Sunday, August 9, 2009

The Mountain I Did Not Climb





Location: Dining hall of camp, about 4:00pm on Saturday, the 8th of August.

The last few days have been eventful rather than restful as anticipated. Fortunately, the Lord has provided me with the rest I need in between the adventures.

I do not recall when I last wrote, and at the moment our internet is not working so I cannot check my last post. For now, I will type and save this post until I can upload it.

The few of us remaining at camp during this non-camp week were hoping to catch up on rest, which has not happened as much as we hoped. For example, we ended up hiking and hanging out with friends of the camp several days, and there is always work to do when you are at a camp. Personally, I was able to get caught up on some chores, and I am thankful for the rest God has provided me. I also had the privilege of sharing some wonderful, edifying conversations with friends over the Internet.

But the adventures really began on Thursday evening, when my Finnish friend M. arrived after visiting friends in Southern France.

(Now it is 4pm on Sunday, though I doubt I will have time to finish this because 90 people are in the process of arriving...)

So M. arrived, and I had walked the six- or seven-mile hike to town (by choice) to pick her up at the bus station, planning to catch a bus back up the mountain when she was with me. Though she arrived without mishap, the last bus had already passed. We then tried to share a taxi with a half-frantic lady who was in a similar predicament. After jumping through hoop after hoop, we finally found a taxi, only to learn that we were not going in the same direction as the lady. So we left her the taxi and picked up groceries.

Running out of options, we had decided to see if we could hitch a ride from the grocery. Just as we were beginning to ask folks, the same taxi driver pulled up to get gas! I waved at him and he was available; he even knew our camp! So we rolled into camp in style, thankful for God's provision of a ride!

A quick hike led by my friend (and great cook!), G., and dinner that night whet our appetite for the next day, so we started off early in the morning on a long hike that would even take us to the summit of one of the mountains. We had a later start than planned because of some telephone attempts to confirm M.'s reservations for her next train, but my phone ran out of credit in the middle of the call! With nothing else to do there, we headed out. Beautiful weather and some wildlife greeted us as we made our way, finally stopping for lunch a few hours into the hike. We struggled on as the sun heated up and as the path became more steep. Laughing as we took funny photos, we were having fun goofing around until M. landed funny on a hard spot of ground and hurt her foot!

We were at the furthest point from camp! We were a half-hour from the summit! We had been watching that peak all morning, my mouth was watering as I was looking forward to the satisfaction of the day's effort! But we could not continue, because she was hurt and we knew we still had several hours of hiking to do in order to make it back to camp. Grudgingly, we turned back, and for the next couple of hours hiked down, finally arriving at supper time. We had left at 10:40am, we limped back into camp at nearly 6:00pm. Needless to say, we dined and relaxed and went to bed early.

That is the story of the mountain I did not climb. And here is the story of the barn I did not clean.

(Now it is nearly 6pm on Sunday--I'm hoping to finish this post before I have to report to kitchen duty for dinner!) The day after the hike, our thoughts of hiking or climbing had been left in the past; in exchange, we decided to rest M.'s foot. That turned out to be good, because we received an email from our absent camp director reminding us about some chores that needed to be done before the next camp started. What really hit home was a comment about his "recleaning" of the building (the barn-turned-sleeping-quarters) that my roommate and I were responsible for. We had cleaned part of it, after cleaning the other building we were assigned, but we had left some if it for a third fellow who was sleeping while we were cleaning, guessing that he would not want to be left out!

Some American friends of the camp arrived this week, and G. was helping me clean for camp while M. was resting her foot. Very gently, he reminded me that it does not matter to God who does which task--God cares that we are obedient to Him. We should shy away from the "that is not my job" mentality, or the "I have already done my share" syndrome. In fact, I would have told you that I already knew that, that I was already practicing that! But as the humble words of this wise man wrenched my heart, I knew that I had been ignoring the truth and that my making excuses caused our director to have to "reclean" my part. It hurts so much, but how much I appreciate God humbling and teaching us, that we might be more in line with His will!

So that is the story of the barn I did not clean.

The rest of the story is that we had a quiet afternoon of French lawn bowling ("boules"), conversation, and a grocery run. (A friend of mine volunteered me to drive the camp mini-bus into town, but we survived without mishap!) This morning, I took M. to the bus-station, picked up the daily fresh French bread (yes, I am rubbing it in!), and picked up a few more groceries for the camp. Then we had a wonderful intimate worship and prayer service with about eight of us at camp before we spent several hours finishing all the preparation for the camp, with a short staff meeting slipped in. I also managed to do my laundry, but it has been washed several times out on the clothes line because of the suddent thunderstorms this afternoon. I figure it will begin to dry again when the rain stops!

So now our quiet paradise is transformed into a French-family vacation haven, with jubilant kids running past nonchalant parents enjoying their time off. These two weeks promise to be full and busy; I hope to make use of our repaired internet connection to post this later this evening, but do not expect to hear from me too often over the next days!

Thanks for your prayers; God is teaching me a lot. I have not yet understood all He wants to teach me about the mountain I did not climb, but I think I learned a lot from the barn I did not clean. Maybe you, too, have a mountain you did not climb. What does that mean? Does that mean you failed? Does that mean you should go back and try again? Does that mean that was the wrong mountain? Was there maybe something more important, but less obvious, at stake? The Bible talks about a tiny bit of faith moving mountains, rather than climbing mountains. Also, in the Bible, I notice that there is a mountain of God, but often the Bible speaks of God coming down to us rather than us climbing up to reach God... In fact, in thinking of the story of the Tower of Babel, I am not sure God wants us to try to reach Him. I think He may want us to welcome Him when He comes to reach out to us. In fact, because I could not climb high enough on the "mountain" of righteousness, so Jesus came to show me that He is the Way. Yet again, a "mountain" that I did not climb. Hmm...that is an interesting thought! These are some of the questions I have been asking myself, and some of the ideas I have been mullling over. And I will have plenty of time to think of it while I wash mountains of dishes!

Happy climbing!
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A Rose From Home

A Rose From Home

My Story (As prepared for my church congregation this spring--2009)


I have a story to tell you. I am the main character, but the story is not about me. I have traveled several parts of the world, but my adventure has been closer to home. I am twenty-six years old. My story begins like many of yours…

I grew up going to church. I had been born into a family who labeled themselves “Christian,” in a country that labels itself “Christian.” Every Sunday found me attending a worship service and Sunday school in a mainline denomination church. I served as an acolyte, attended Vacation Bible School, helped my dad count and record the offering money, sang in the youth choir, was a leader in the youth group, and occasionally served as liturgist. Baptized as an infant, I was confirmed at the age of twelve, thus becoming an “official” member of the church. Then, hurt by the church, my family left to find another.

Have you ever been hurt by the Church?

After months of searching, we settled into a very large independent church. Things were different there, and I was quickly welcomed and at home among new friends that truly had a passion for Jesus. The Word of God was taught boldly from the pulpit, and I was introduced to a missions-aware lifestyle. So it was with regret that I said goodbye only a couple of years later to move with my family to another church. I purposely remained aloof, not wanting to make new friendships before I left for college a year later. Besides, I was loosing my faith—or so I thought—and I didn’t want anyone to know. I was asking scary questions like “Is there really a God?” and, if so, “Is He the Christian God?” and “Would I be Christian if I had been born in another part of the world?”

Have you ever asked yourself unsettling questions about what you believe?

So I headed into college under a cloud of confusion that only worsened for the next two years. Though I didn’t know what I believed anymore, I continued to go to church every Sunday, and to help lead worship in chapel. Most importantly, even during this questioning, I continued my morning habit of daily study of the Bible. I had begun at age twelve, reading at first a chapter per day, then ten minutes each morning, then an half-hour, and so on. So, only by the grace of the very God I doubted, I remained anchored in His Word and in His community, though I felt like a fake most of the time. Since then I have learned that “fake” is the worst insult the world can give us; that is why the label of “hypocrite” is so offensive.

Have you ever felt like a fake?

Six weeks with missionaries in South Africa followed by a year in France began to teach me what life with God is all about. I began rebuilding my faith, this time it belonged to me, in contrast to me borrowing the faith of my parents, church, or anyone else. In my parent’s basement in 2003, on either Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve, I invited Jesus to live in me; perhaps I had done so before, but I didn’t recall—but since 2003, I have never forgotten that moment. Unfortunately, nothing changed. I continued to do my best to act like a Christian, as I had done for so long.

Have you ever found yourself “doing your best” to be a good person, or to act like a Christian?

Though I did not realize it at the time, I was quenching the Spirit, even though I had welcomed Him into my life. During the next few years, the LORD continued to nurture me, and slowly things began to change. Several tough months in Idaho birthed my prayer-life. I spent three years being humbled in a job that was my informal seminary training. In 2007, a short stint in Mexico helped me to see things as they were, and not long afterward, I was baptized by immersion. No baptism of any kind can save a lost soul—only Jesus can do that. However, this baptism was an important covenant between me and God, symbolizing not only my death and resurrection with Jesus and my public profession of faith, but it also my life change, the beginning of my bearing fruit. “For each tree is known by its own fruit…”according to Luke 6:44. During the past year and a half, the LORD has provided me with an informal pastoral internship in my church, teaching me every aspect of discipleship. Simultaneously, I have been studying unceasing prayer and worship. I am now very different than I was five years ago.

In the Book of Acts (which tells the story of the earliest years of the Church) every time a person decided to follow Christ, two things took place—though not always in the same order. Each person experienced a life change, which I call the “baptism of repentance,” as well as the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, which I call the “baptism of the Spirit.” Looking back, I realize that the Holy Spirit was living in me in 2003, but it wasn’t until I surrendered everything to God, as represented by my immersion, that I allowed the Spirit to have His way in me and transform my life. “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now life in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me. (Galatians 2:20)”

Have you invited Jesus to live in you? Have you allowed the Spirit to transform your life?

I tell you this story for two reasons. First, I tell this story in order to boast in the LORD! May God our Father get all praise and glory forever! Second, I tell this story because it is relevant to you. Likely you have heard that I am leaving the country: I have let my light shine before you; please let your light shine within the Church, too! This congregation is in revival, and as each of you allows the Spirit to revive you, the entire Church will be revived and utterly transformed, to the glory of the Most High God. And for His glory is the reason He created us; the reason He sent His only Son to reveal Himself to us; the reason He became Sin for us and died for us on the cross—while we were still sinners; and the reason that He conquered death and offered us eternal life with Him.

It will cost you a lot—in fact, it will cost you everything, your very life. But if you have never surrendered your life to Christ Jesus, if you have never invited Him to send His Spirit into you and to transform your life, then do it right now. Just let go of everything to which you are desperately clinging; stop trying to do it yourself! This is the very reason you are still breathing in this physical life—God has been delaying His judgment of this sinful world because He is waiting for you—2 Peter 3:9 says He wants none to perish!

If you have already invited the Spirit into your life, then live like it! Bear fruit! Anyone and everyone who meets you or knows you or sees you or hears you should know immediately and clearly that Jesus the Christ lives in you and loves them! That is how stark the contrast should be between your life and the world around you!

Have you immersed yourself in God’s Word and in prayer in the last twenty-four hours?

If you call yourself a follower of Christ, then there is no excuse for not communing with Him daily! Anchor yourself in the Word! God has revealed Himself to us through His Son, Jesus Christ, and the Bible is a complete and accurate record of that revelation. And prayer is humbly letting Him love us. Let Him love you! God doesn’t need us, but He wants us! God doesn’t need us to live for Him—He wants to live in and through us! Let us love and fellowship with one another, even when you disagree! Pray for each other—the names in the church directory are a great place to start! Church, we are not only the Body of Christ, but we are the Bride of Christ. We have allowed ourselves to get bedraggled and stained—now let us stand to the glory of God! Let’s let Him purify us, restore us, and love us!

My dear Brothers and Sisters, if you have ever once been blessed by God our Father at work in me, then I urge you, please, take seriously His desire to love and work in you, beyond anything you can ask or imagine! I have told you the beginning of my story—may it end in glory to the Father, in the Name of Jesus, by way of His Spirit.

Now, what is your story?