Sunday afternoon relaxing meant sitting in the sun on the couch in our 8x10 room reading a book. I was basking in the sun coming in the open door and the lazy schedule that meant I didn’t have to cook for the community of 20 missionaries. Suddenly I froze as I noticed out of the corner of my eye a black shape sliding into the open door and slithering behind the book shelf that divided our tiny home into living room and office. In that split second I realized two things. One, that black shape was a spitting cobra. Two, it was sliding towards Randy who was enjoying his quiet Sunday on the other side of that book shelf. In the next second I screamed and leaped out the open door onto the small veranda. My scream communicated the urgency and Randy raced out to join me.
It wasn’t long before other members of our team joined us as we awaited the departure of our unwelcome Sunday visitor. More than an hour later the cobra casually slithered outside the door, but at the sight of a waiting crowd it raced to shelter under the nearby container, conveniently out of the reach of the men armed with stones and grass slashers. We continued to rehash all the details of this event and swaggered on with more snake stories until the supper bell rang.
Remembering that event more than 16 years ago, I can only laugh. What an odd form of entertainment we had in those early days of missions. We had snake visits and obnoxious monkeys stealing our crops and intimidating our dogs. We fought raging bush fires that threatened the borders of our campsite during dry season, and during the rainy season we dealt with the floods that covered the bridges that we used to visit our neighbors. We had spontaneous and community oriented entertainment in those days. There was little privacy so every event gathered the troops. And every event ended with more stories and laughter and natural camaraderie. Those were difficult days, but I miss those days.
As a mission community we didn’t have much. We lived in small camp-site rooms and had cold water showers. In response to frequent power outages we often cooked and ate by candlelight, resorted to using the pit toilets we had dug, and hauled our water with buckets from the river. But we were a team who shared the challenges and adventures together.
One thing I learned during those days was that I could adjust to almost anything. Outside ablutions, cleaning dishes with cold water, and even pit toilets became “normal” after time and I could almost not imagine another life! And I learned that I could do it with joy. In these days when my husband and I are in major transition and strained by tight living quarters in my mother-in-law’s house, I am reminded of those early days. And I know that I will be victorious and will one day look back and see the stamp of God’s grace and joy on this season of our lives also.
Picture from http://www.freesnake.com/spittingcobra2.html.
Writing is a mirror to the soul. When I’m writing you’ll see what I choose to show you and you may catch glimpses of attitudes that I actually don’t intend you to see. Sometimes I’m perturbed by my own attitudes. I don’t want you to see my internal wrestling to be more kind, positive, or self-controlled or to be less jealous, critical or caustic. I’m more inclined to let you see my insights on living a walk of faith and my bragging about Jesus.
There’s something scary about coming out into the open wearing the day’s grime in my attitudes. In the privacy of my thoughts I can ignore nasty stubbornness or quick judgments. But I’m called to come into the light, filthy rags and all. In the light I see truth, and therein lies the power of light. Ugliness is seen as ugly. I cry out for mercy. I catch a glimpse of God’s grace and the flash of His ready forgiveness sets me on a path of repentance. The power of light.
In the safety of God’s presence, facing ugly truth about my shameful attitudes is tolerable. But being truthful about myself to others can be frightening, especially when I don’t know how others will respond. We’ve all experienced a variety of reactions to our attempts at openness: appreciation, kind understanding, criticism, preaching, gentle chiding, shock, disappointment, concern, or wariness. Reactions are filed away and we’ve made value judgments on openness. We may have vowed to never be transparent again, or we may have warm memories of the appreciation others showed towards our humble attempts to being transparent.
Regardless of how other people might react, coming into the light has an amazing power, and that power is what can drive me to openness regardless of my past experiences or my fears. Speaking the truth sets me free. I’m free from trying to escape your discovery! I’m free from dodging the light. I’m free from the effort of dressing up to present a perfect picture of a person called of God. I’m free from the enemy’s threats to expose me! I’m free to let in more light. And I’m free to pursue the path of God’s amazing grace.
Writing the truth also has the power to help others who are scrambling to evade discovery of their miserable failures to be like Christ. Speaking the truth about my own battles with my sin nature can free others to come into the light and experience the exhilaration of truth in God’s warm embrace of love and forgiveness.
While I’m convinced that openness has power, I’m also considering some parameters that might be important for channeling this power in a public place such as a blog.
1. As a believer, my openness should include the truth about my struggles with my fallen human nature as well as the truth of God’s abounding mercy and grace for victory. If I only whine about my ongoing struggles with fear, I can leave my listeners with a sense of hopelessness, bondage, or even disappointment. But if I also share the secret power of God’s rhema word to strip away the chains of fear, then I have shared truth that can help to set the captive free as Jesus intended.
2. I only have the right to be open about my own humanness. I do not have the right to expose another person’s sin or failure. Therefore my own openness about responding to slander should not be worded in such a way as to throw glaring light on the source of that slander. If my own openness risks harming another I need to reconsider my motives and my words. Can I reword what I am saying so I speak the truth about my own battle in a powerful way that can set readers free without stripping another of his reputation?
3. My truth-speaking should always be guided by the Father. Even Jesus, the perfect source of truth did not speak on his own. The Father directed the where, when, how, why, and what of truth! There are times when God asks me to be open about my own struggles in order to help others. And there are other times when I run ahead of God and for the sake of openness or my own agenda speak about my past failures or my present skirmishes. I’ve seen those times of truth fail in achieving anything of benefit for God, myself, or others.
Openness directed by God has the potential of a flashing bolt of lightening - light, truth, and power in one stroke. Humble open writing can be powerful in the hands of God. Am I ready?
Picture from Comstock Photos
You’ve seen it. Word circulates that Jean was seen at a cozy table for two with the boss. She’s been your friend. Now you avoid her at break time. When her name comes up in conversation all the office mates sling slurs at her reputation and bring up previous whispers of marriage trouble. Others dig up old grievances with the boss. And you are the only Christian at your office.
It’s so easy to quickly judge a person’s actions and come up with what they should have done, but the truth is that another person’s sin bounces the ball into your court and puts you to the test. How will you respond to the person’s sin or failure? Now it’s up to you to choose how you will respond: understanding, criticism, gossiping, shunning, confronting, forgiving, showing grace, ignoring, or extending mercy. And how you respond will determine where the ball goes and if the ball will be returned to you!
I’ve become aware of some uncomfortable truths. Anyone (me included) can make a judgment; not everyone can make a well informed, just, or godly judgment. Everyone can criticize; not everyone can listen for understanding. Everyone can gossip; not everyone can demonstrate loving support in the face of critical attitudes. Anyone can shun someone; not all of us are adept at godly confrontation. Anyone of us can condemn; not all of us can forgive.
Judging is easy; grace is challenging. It takes grace to lovingly confront someone after a personal offence or when you’ve observed an indiscretion. The much more difficult task is to continue to demonstrate love when someone has obviously failed. And that is where Christians have the opportunity to demonstrate the character of Jesus.
Jesus set aside judgment in order to demonstrate love. He could extend mercy because he was clear that it wasn’t his job to judge! He did not go out of his way to avoid sinners. Neither did he shun those who criticized and slandered him. He moved towards them with love and gentle truth. He never participated in petty gossip parties. He was always ready with grace for any sinner who came across his path. He was sought out by obvious sinners because of this love and grace.
And that is the challenge in this age. Anyone can judge. We can all do it well. And if we can’t, we can all learn by listening to our neighbors, watching t.v. or reading our current newspapers and magazines. Judging and criticism abound. But where are the grace extenders? Who can we learn that from? As a parent, are you teaching your children to be grace-extenders? As a workmate, are you demonstrating grace, kindness, and mercy? As a neighbor are you gossiping grace or judgment? As Christians we have abundant opportunity to be grace-extenders and grace teachers in our generation. Judging abounds. What about grace?
Sunday afternoon relaxing meant sitting in the sun on the couch in our 8x10 room reading a book. I was basking in the sun coming in the open door and the lazy schedule that meant I didn’t have to cook for the community of 20 missionaries. Suddenly I froze as I noticed out of the corner of my eye a black shape sliding into the open door and slithering behind the book shelf that divided our tiny home into living room and office. In that split second I realized two things. One, that black shape was a spitting cobra. Two, it was sliding towards Randy who was enjoying his quiet Sunday on the other side of that book shelf. In the next second I screamed and leaped out the open door onto the small veranda. My scream communicated the urgency and Randy raced out to join me. 
