Poured out and Filled up

            I just got back from a church-planting conference, put on by Always Forward, the church planting initiative of the Anglican Church in North America.  This was my second time attending this conference, and I was in a much different place of my life. 

One year ago I was there, still trying to figure out if I really was being called by God to be a church planter, and if so, where?      A lot happened in the intervening year:  I retired from the U.S. Navy after 30 years of service.  The change from military culture to civilian culture could take up many blog posts, but suffice to say it is a significant change.  My wife and I had suddenly figured out that now no one would be telling us where we could live – it was up to us!  Of course, we wanted it to be up to God, not just us.  After a lot of discernment, prayer, anxiety, faith, worry, more faith, etc we were called to Billings, MT.  There, I would serve as rector to a small but faithful group of Anglicans, and continue my medical work part time.  There was much that we looked forward to – less traffic, great outdoors, wonderful people, the thrill of doing Kingdom work.  There was also much that we did not look forward to – leaving our daughter, son-in-law and grandson behind in Southern California, being further away from my parents, winter, and the challenges of doing Kingdom work.

When I attended this year’s conference, we had been in Billings for a little over 2 months.  We had settled in pretty well.  Everything was out of boxes and in “a place” in our house, if not necessarily the “right place”.  We had made wonderful friends.  The church was very committed to doing the “hard work” of planting.  When asked “How are you doing?” by my friends, colleagues, leaders, and family I would honestly reply “Great!” and describe some of the progress we had been making.  Nevertheless, I had been feeling tired – civilian medicine, with Medicaid and lack of other insurance was a new thing for me after the military.  The hard work of leading the church, pastoring those with hurts, finding family time, finding “me” time, etc was beginning to take its toll and I was starting to feel like I was being drained.

This brings me to Wednesday night and a Eucharist and “commissioning” at the church planter’s conference.  After the Eucharist they invited us forward for prayer – they encouraged “those of you who are tired, or feeling shame, or anxiety” to come forward.  As I went forward, I still had that mindset of “I’m doing okay”….until I got there.  Suddenly I found myself weeping uncontrollably as the realization of the stresses I had undergone in the past 2 months hit me.  I felt inadequate – a “make believe” priest ordained for only 1 ½ years, trying to plant a church!  I felt small.  I felt the anxiety of “what if this doesn’t work? What if I screw it up and it all comes tumbling down like a house of cards?”  I felt the drain on me spiritually as I struggled to meet these new (self-set) expectations and as I tried to “do” Kingdom work.  And I cried out to God that I was feeling like I was being emptied – poured out.

At that moment, two things happened.  First, I remembered that others had spoken of being “poured out” – that language is used of both Paul and Jesus in Philippians.  Second, I had a vision of a cruet with water, like we have at the altar.  The water level was getting lower and lower.  And in my mind, God spoke to me and with a chuckle (I confess I have never heard God chuckle before). He said

“Silly child.  Of course I want you to empty yourself.  I want you to pour out everything.  Empty yourself, so I can fill you.  For you, yourself, will run out – but I never will.  You will be filled with living water – that you will never run dry.  Let me fill you to overflowing.  It is then that you can minister to others and still be full yourself. (At that point the priest said “God is an inexhaustible reservoir of joy”)  Not only does my living water nourish and satisfy, it also cleanses.  It washes away your shame, your doubt, your fears, your anxieties.  Let me fill you.  Do not hold the water in – let it flow, and as it flows it will make and mold you, wearing away the rough spots.”

So why am I sharing this with you?  First, to give God glory.  God does not often meet me like he did that night (probably because I don’t seek to meet Him in that way as often as I should).  But when He does meet me, it is the most joyful, peaceful, powerful, wonderful experience.  I share this so that you may know that you can meet God in that way.  I also share it because I am pretty sure there are others out there who feel the same way I did.  Inadequate.  Fearful.  Anxious.  Poured out.  I am here to tell you that the message God gave me that night is the same message He is giving to you.  Let him fill you.  Overflowing.  Cleansing.  Another way to put it…

Be still, and know that He is God.

I lift my eyes to the hills.

Today I went for a bicycle ride out into the country.  It was a nice long time to spend talking to God.  We spent time with me going over my shortcomings (a.k.a. sins).  We spent some time with Him reminding me that I’m forgiven.  We spent a lot of time taking delight in God’s creation.  In particular, I enjoy God’s hills when I’m riding.  There were quite a few hills on this ride, and it was hot.  So I started doing what I always do in a difficult hill-climb – I recite Psalm 121.

     I lift up my eyes to the hills-- where does my help come from

     My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.

     He will not let your foot slip-- he who watches over you will not slumber;

     indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

     The LORD watches over you-- the LORD is your shade at your right hand;

     the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

     The LORD will keep you from all harm-- he will watch over your life;

     the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

As I literally lift my eyes up to the top of the hill that I am bicycling, these words give me strength.  They remind me that God is with me.  That whenever I am struggling (and even when I’m not) God is my helper.  I was also reminded that God is my shade.  It was hot out and the sun just seemed to beat down relentlessly.  Just like shade provides sweet, cool relief, God refreshes and renews when things just seem to be beating me down.

But God had one other lesson for me, too.  When I got to the top of the hill, I turned around to go back home.  Suddenly I was facing a headwind (and I hate headwinds as much as I love hills!).  But it occurred to me that while going up the hill, I had a tailwind – a helper when I didn’t even know it.  In the Bible, the word for Spirit is pneuma (which is also the word for wind).  As we travel in the way of Christ, we encounter difficult hills.  But the Holy Spirit has our back!  With his help, we can make it up the mountain.  Likewise, when we turn back, the Holy Spirit can get in our face!  In my experience, going with the Spirit is always better than going against him.

So, during those hills that never end or when the sun is beating down on you, just remember Psalm 121.

God bless,

Fr. John

Advice to the Young Men in My Life: Physical Labor is Good!

When I was in high school, we lived in a very small town just outside of Reno, called Verdi.  I spent some of the best years there – exploring the outdoors, fishing, riding my mini-bike, shooting my bb gun.  But one of the best memories I have of that time is splitting wood.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  At first, I hated it.  It was just one more chore I had to do.  But over time, it became something I enjoyed doing (well, maybe not all the time!).  Splitting wood taught me some valuable lessons when it comes to physical labor.  Those lessons can apply whether using an ax, or digging in a garden, or hauling sand-bags, or repairing a fence.

1. God created us to work.  This does not mean that working in an office is not Godly.  But it does mean that we can experience God through our physical labor as well – in fact, sometimes it actually seems easier!
2. Physical labor improves your coordination.  You don’t need to miss the log with the axe too many times before you get a lot better at your hand-eye coordination.
3. Physical labor pays off in the fitness area.  You don’t build too many muscles playing X-box!  On the other hand, hauling around logs or bags of sand is great for the biceps.  Not to mention the heart, weight loss, etc.
4. Physical labor gives you a sense of accomplishment.  It seems there is always more paperwork to do, more calls to make, more bills to pay.  But physical labor usually has a definitive end.  There’s nothing quite as satisfying as finishing that last log and stacking it on the pile.
5. Physical labor reminds you that many people make their living this way.  I’m not just talking about manual laborers in the United States.  Think about all the men and women in underdeveloped countries that not only “make a living” with physical labor, but simply “live” through physical labor.  Hand-washing clothes.  Fetching water from a well.  Taking care of livestock.  This does two things for me.  It makes me realize how blessed I am, and it gives me a tremendous respect for those who labor daily.
6. Physical labor is great for “working through things”.  Break up with your girlfriend?  Split some wood.  Mad at your parents?  Split some wood.  Fail that exam?  Split some wood.  Feel like life has become waaay too complex and that you’ll never be good at “adulting”?  You guessed it – split some wood.  Manual labor both focuses your mind on a task, and allows you to work through things mentally and emotionally.  It’s also a great way to “let off steam” without damaging your knuckles on a wall!
7. Physical labor teaches responsibility.  There’s an easy connection when the labor is a chore, or part of your job.  You have a responsibility to do something, and there are consequences if you don’t and rewards if you do.  But even if the labor is a personal project there is still a feeling of satisfaction when the job is done and done well.
8. Physical labor teaches valuable skills.  So, maybe there will never be a zombie apocalypse.  However,  what if the power goes out?  It’d be nice to have a fire on a cold night.  What if your car breaks down?  It’d be nice to be able to haul your groceries home.  What if your power tools get left out in the rain?  It’d be nice to know how to use a hammer, saw, and post-hole digger.  What if the plumber can’t get there until tomorrow?  It’d be nice to know how to fix a leaky pipe.
9. Physical labor gives you a sense of ownership.  When you are the one who split that cord of wood, or put those sandbags in place, or built that fence, then you can rightfully claim “I did that”.  Of course, that also goes back to responsibility.  If you did that, then you are the one responsible for the quality of the work.  Ownership and responsibility go hand in hand, and often lead to improvements.
10. Physical labor is sometimes best when done alone – it gives time to sort things out.  But physical labor is also sometimes best when done together.  The only thing that was better than splitting wood by myself was when my dad was teaching me.  Working together to labor creates bonds that the office can’t match.

 So, go out and find some manual labor (if you need help, there’s still some logs in my backyard that need splitting….)

The Dance

               Every so often God and I get into some deep talks at around 2 am.  I’d like to share today’s discussion with you.

I can remember watching my daughter dance “just because” when she was a toddler.  I can remember watching in ballet class when she was around 4 or 5 years old.  But my favorite memories are teaching her dance.  It would start with her (literally) standing on my feet as I danced.  Later, she managed her own steps.  We danced at her wedding.  And I also taught others how to dance with her. (No, I did not let the young men stand on my feet!).  So last night, as I was praising God at 2 am, I started thinking about David “dancing before the Lord” (2 Sam 6:14), and God and I had a talk about it (He talked, I listened.  After all, that’s part of being still).

God delights in watching us dance.  Even when we don’t think He’s watching, or aren’t even aware He’s watching, He is.  And he delights.  God delights in our joy (I’m talking here of joy, not necessarily “happiness”.  There are many things we think make us happy, that God isn’t too excited about.  But joy comes from the spirit.)  What may start out for us as joy in a “thing” or “event” becomes magnified into a joy for the dance itself.

God is a gentleman – He wants more than to watch, but He’s not going to just cut in.  He yearns to be invited:  “Dance with me, Daddy!” and He wants us to let Him lead.  Even more than watching us dance with joy, God loves to dance with us in joy.  This is shared love and trust.  This is no longer just a joy of dancing.  It is a joy that comes from dancing with the Lord of the dance.  And when we dance with the Lord we become grace-full, for God is patient and loving in that dance.  He gives us grace when we lose the beat, or make a mis-step, or trip on our own feet, or step on His.  He takes even our mis-steps and somehow incorporates them into the dance and creates something beautiful and timeless that we are a part of.  Something that is overflowing with love and joy.

But God doesn’t stop there.  It is that love and joy that others standing on the sidelines see.  And they hunger for it.  They yearn for it.  And God tells us to invite them in.  God is big enough that the dance is personal, but not individual.  Whatever comes to you mind at this point – line dancing, mosh pit or ballet – God knows the steps.  And He takes them all and somehow combines them through love and grace and power to make a beautiful choreography.  This is love between us and God, and between us and others (Matthew 22:37-40). 

There is a $25 seminary word that describes the Trinity – perichoresis.  It is the idea of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit dancing together.  The cool thing is, you’re invited to the dance!

Advice to the young men in my life: (Learn to) Write a Letter!

 Dear young man:

           When I think about letters in my life, three major sets of correspondence come to mind.  First, I remember as a young man, getting letters from my grandmother.  They were always addressed to “Master Johnny King” – which, of course, I thought was VERY cool.  She would tell me about small things in her life. Of course, I would “have” to write back (I saw it as a chore back then).  My letters inevitably started “Dear Grandma:  How are you?  I am fine.”  Trying to find things to say about a young boy’s life that would interest my grandmother seemed difficult.  It was not until many years later that I understood it wasn’t so much the content of the letter that mattered, it was the contact itself.  As I grew older, Grandma continued to write, even when I didn’t.  She would send clippings of Bloom County, knowing it was my favorite comic strip.  I remember her letters were always so much fun to read – they provided a sense of home and connectedness.

            The second correspondence I remember is between me and my girlfriend/fiancée.  I was in San Diego and she was in Reno.  Back then there were these things called “long distance phone calls” and they cost money!  We talked by phone no more than once a week.  But we wrote each other often.  Those letters were easy to write, though I confess often repetitive in nature as I talked about how much I missed her and how much I loved her.  Those letters also provided a sense of connectedness as well as hope and love.  There was also a sense of expectation – of eagerly checking the mailbox each day and the joy of finding a letter there. 

            The final set of letters in my life are the letters I receive from the children I sponsor through Compassion International.  These letters are handwritten (sometimes by teachers, for the children too young to write).  They sometimes sound like the letters I wrote my grandmother, but they are full of love!

            I still have the letter my grandmother wrote to me when I graduated medical school.  I still have the letters I received from Marji (and she still has the ones from me).  And literally have 3 binders full of the letters from our compassion kids. Re-reading all these letters bring back precious memories and deepen relationships.

            E-mails are convenient, certainly.  I remember being on deployment and being able to e-mail daily. And yet I would still write longer “letters” sent by email to family and friends every month.  Yet despite the convenience – or maybe because of it – e-mails have their down-side.  Let’s start with the “art” of writing.  It was bad enough that I would write “Dear Grandma:  How are you?  I am fine?”  But e-mail (and texting) encourage even worse:  “How r u?”  “IDK”  “lol” and so on.  There is something about taking the time to write out a sentence fully – artfully – that makes letters personal.  You invest a part of your life in letters.

            Now, being an old-fashioned guy who still prefers holding a book in his hands to reading something on my iPad, it should come as no surprise that I also find something “tangible” in holding a letter that has a person’s handwriting on it.  How many e-mails a day to we delete?  (How much junk mail do we throw away each day?)  I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t have any e-mails that are 30+ years old.

            A few final thoughts:  Second to a nice long letter is a hand-written note.  A thank-you note, a get-well card, a note of encouragement.  These hand-written “moments in time” still contain a piece of the person who wrote them.  They speak of consideration given in time and thought.  Lastly, good letter writing skills will prove themselves when it comes to finding a job.  Sending a letter of intent (even if attached electronically), a letter of thanks for an interview, etc can make a tremendous difference.

            The one time I can still anticipate a letter is with Christmas cards.  Even so, it is not quite the same.  They are personal, but not individual.  They do increase connectedness and relationship, but sometimes it seems more like a Christmas ritual than a true correspondence.

            So here is my challenge to you:  write a letter.  In fact, make it a habit to write a letter – shoot for once a month.  And send it by regular mail – I guarantee it will brighten someone’s day (maybe even your own).

With much love,

Pastor JC