The Fragrance of Life

Combining your seminary education with life application, you wind up with the sweet blend of a fragrant aroma…

Last week before Thanksgiving, my church small group gathered food and money for a “pounding.”  I had never heard it termed that, so if you haven’t either, a pounding is where a group of people collect a “pound” of food and give it to another family to fill their pantry.  We weren’t literal with it, but each person gave as they could or felt led, and we put all the food together to give to a local family of four who had fallen on hard times.  They were a part of our faith family, believers who had gone through some extreme circumstances and were struggling to get on their feet, but were obediently praising Christ in their difficulties and willingly relying on the help of their brothers and sisters to share their burdens. 

As we sat in their home, listening to the sharing of their testimonies, I recalled a passage of Scripture we had discussed in class the week before.  2 Corinthians 2:14-16:

“But thanks be to God, who always puts us on display in Christ, and spreads through us in every place the scent of knowing Him. For to God we are the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing. To some we are a scent of death leading to death, but to others, a scent of life leading to life. And who is competent for this?”

Here the application struck me a little differently.  In class we had discussed the evangelical and missional context and implications of this passage.  But in this home, we weren’t spreading the Gospel to unbelievers.  We weren’t concerned over the eternal lives of these people because they are family already.  But [thankfully] God uses us to spread the knowledge of Christ in every place.  And even in the home of our believing friends, we were the fragrance of life leading to life, a beautiful and pleasing aroma to our Lord. 

I’ll let Paul wrap it up with this:

“Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly loved children and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”  Ephesians 5:1-2

City Upon a Hill

Someone said to me today, “You don’t need a degree to be a missionary.” I write this as an encouragement to readers who attend seminary and to those who do not, to those who are missionaries across the world, and to those who are living the Great Commission at our back door.
I have a friend who is a sort of “self-appointed mentor” to a number of Liberian refugee children who live in government housing projects. The household of 3 or 4 male children is being raised by their refugee mother alone who barely speaks English and certainly has a different idea of parenting skills. This past weekend, my friend approached me with some questions (since I have a background in family counseling). The children had told my friend that the mother had been showing them pornographic videos at a very young age in order to prevent them from wanting to watch the videos when they were older. She had been watching the videos with the boys of various ages. He also told me about how he had taken them to church with him and when he dropped them off at their apartment later that evening, the mother was not home and did not return home for several hours. The boys were left outside without a key for several hours into the already dark evening in one of the most unsafe neighborhoods in the city.
While my friend and I discussed the legal implications of this as well as the level of inappropriateness in parenting style, the point that I wish to make here is focused elsewhere… Because my friend has his faith grounded in our Holy Father, he is able to minister to this family in need of a Savior. He offers guidance and hope to these young boys whose mother seemingly unknowingly breaks her children’s hearts and souls by burying them deep in sexual immorality and abandonment. My friend is perhaps the only reflection of Christ they see throughout their week.
Let’s look at it this way: Somewhere in a dark, rent-controlled apartment lives a family who struggles against the world and has no light of hope. Across the city lives a single, 20-something, just out of college with the Light of the World in his heart. They are just another family trying to make it in the dark. He is an ordinary person trying to figure out what’s next. But he serves a God who is not just another god. And he lives with a faith that is not just an ordinary faith. And because of this extraordinary faith, he walks in obedience with the One True God who sheds light in all the dark places.
Whether we are in seminary or working a secular job, whether we are finishing up a doctorate or completing a GED, whether we are preaching to the masses from a pulpit or from behind a counter to an audience of one, if we are children of God we are missionaries. I will let my friend admonish you to remember the extraordinary God whom you serve and to seek Him out where He is working, then join Him regardless of your present circumstances. Somewhere, on the other side of the city, someone is waiting in the dark for a light to come on. Don’t be afraid to go into the dark places because that is precisely where the Light is needed. And only those who have the Light can share it.

Reflecting an image

imago Dei. In His image.




At creation God’s purpose for me is to worship Him and obey Him and, by these means, bring glory to His name. As was recently discussed in my Old Testament class, the nuance of Genesis 1:26-27 is not that God created us to look like Himself, but rather to be His image on Earth — in other words, to reflect characteristics of God to all of creation. This, in turn, will magnify His glory, if done properly. The great tragedy is that at the Fall of mankind, the image of God in man was fractured, shattered like a mirror, no longer able to accurately reflect the image of a Holy God.



I am a shattered mirror. And like a shattered mirror, my splintered, broken reflection often draws more attention to itself than it does the image of the Sovereign Creator. But. The Gospel restores my cracked and fractured image, allowing me to reflect more acceptably the image of my Redeemer.



I can’t take credit for the beauty of this mirror analogy. (Dr. Robinson’s knack for the use of imagery is present in a number of my posts.) So for the second time this semester, I’m about to walk through The Story Training Guide, first in class and again in the upcoming weeks with the young professionals class at my local church. If The Story isn’t familiar to you, I recommend you take a minute now to stop and introduce yourself to it by clicking the website here: TheStoryTraining.com. You won’t regret it.



Anyway, my self-assigned task for at least a couple of days during the next few weeks, as I re-examine the narrative of the Gospel with Dr. Reid and other young pros, is to find a small, portable mirror somewhere in my seminary apartment and take it around with me, not just in my bag or purse, but on my person. My little mirror is going to serve as just one reminder on those days of 1) my role in accurately reflecting Christ to the world 2) how fragile my witness can be if I am not mindful of it and 3) that, by God’s love and sacrifice, I am a restored image of a Holy Creator.



This idea has the potential to be a creative reminder… or possibly a painful experience. I’ll let you know how it works out for me, and whether or not I end up with a shattered mirror in my back pocket.

The importance of one

I am currently 1/3 of the way through my first semester mid-terms and while my brain feels like it has hit maximum capacity, I know there’s much more to learn. So let me take a break from studying to share with you my latest perspective.




For three years preceding my move to Southeastern, I led a weekly Bible study for high school girls. When I signed on to volunteer, my intentions were to become more involved in my church and serve the Lord consistently in this new capacity. I had little idea what this ministry would become for me over the course of the next 3 years as I watched a group of 7 high school freshmen turn from teenagers into beautiful young women of faith. By the time the Lord called me to move from Tennessee to North Carolina, my younger sisters in Christ were entering their senior year in high school, and I was grieved at the thought of leaving them at such a crucial time in their lives. Knowing that the Lord didn’t need me to complete any work in their lives, I tearfully left our small group trusting that God would provide for “my girls” (as I endearingly term them) and hoping for the continued privilege of playing a small part in their lives.



God has indeed answered my prayers in allowing me to maintain communication with these girls and hear some of their recent stories. With social media being the primary means of communication for their generation, I receive numerous text messages from week to week highlighting how the Lord is working out His plan for each of them. I’ve been so blessed and extremely encouraged to read messages such as, “Pray for my friend at work, she keeps asking me about church.” Another message reported, “I bought my friend a Bible and we’ve been talking about God. She got saved during tonight’s church service!” And still another text informs me that at 18, an honorable young lady is excited about her first boyfriend (who has recently talked to her parents and asked for permission to date her). Just this weekend, I received a picture text of one of the girls wearing a crown after winning the homecoming title at her Christian school. Her classmates voted for her under the theme “Faithfulness.” That same weekend I catch word that she led an acoustic worship set for her high school youth group on Sunday night.



I am both encouraged and humbled beyond words to acknowledge that over the past 3 years God assigned to me the task of discipling these 7 young ladies as they grow into faithful, young women who love and serve Christ. The significance of pouring my life and service into these girls is not lost on me as I read and learn of the model of discipleship Christ provided in His written plan of evangelism. Appropriately, this is a recurring topic as I speak to professors and sit in classes here at SEBTS — this idea of placing the emphasis on quality versus quantity, discipleship to the few versus preaching to the multitudes (without, of course, de-emphasizing the importance of mass communication of the Gospel). Something to think about: “When discipleship is the means of growth, the result is greater orthodoxy.”

Waves of mercy, Waves of grace

It was just a few Saturday afternoons ago that I stood knee deep in foaming saltwater watching monstrosity after monstrosity of Atlantic waves swell up to crash mercilessly over the top of my head.  Fear welled up in my stomach as plans of escape flew through my mind like rapid-fire at the coming of each new wave.  I'm pretty sure Clark noted the look of terror on my face when he doubtfully asked me how much fun I was having.  Then he dove in head-first as I cowered backwards into yet another mini-tsunami.  Sometimes I wish I had the faith he does. 

***
Professor Robinson has quickly won my heart with his passion and pursuit of the Great Commission which he relates whole-heartedly to us students every Thursday for 3 hours in our Evangelism class.
His latest analogy was that of a wave crashing down, bearing God's wrath on its belly and consuming sinners (kinda like the waters of Wrightsville Beach attempted to consume me that weekend!)  On the backside of God's waves, shallow, foaming waters of mercy swirl around to calm and comfort us.  You can see why this analogy was easy for me to relate to!
As we continued on in class last week engaged in the portion of Dr. Robinson's lecture on the bilingual tongue of our Lord's wrath and mercy, I was all but overwhelmed by feelings of conviction, fear, conviction again... mercy, grace, more conviction... raw emotion, aaand probably a little more conviction.  You can never have enough of that anyway, right?
Coming from a secular university, this is all too new to me, and I'm enraptured by the fact that I am privileged and blessed to be chosen by my Lord to sit in these classrooms and be filled up by the Truth of the Gospel so that I can pour out the Word of hope, mercy, and grace to a lost world in need of Jesus! 

I don't want to fall under any pretense and say that I'm good at this by any means. And I certainly don't want to allow the presumption that I immediately leave the classroom and begin evangelizing.  Unfortunately, I'm still a flawed sinner.  But I'm here to learn and grow in my walk with Christ, and this Evangelism class is certainly being used by God to stretch me out of the parameters of my comfort zone. It has become my petition to the Lord to break down the walls in my heart and teach me to dive head-first in bold service to my King with the assurance that I will resurface on the backside of his bubbling eddies of compassion and favor.

2+what?

Yesterday marked a pretty significant event in my early time here at Southeastern.  I know what you're thinking, and it's not the beach, even though that was a pretty awesome trip!
The 2012 Deployment Brunch for 2+2 students.  You read me correctly, 2+2.  Under wise counsel, I made the decision to begin my studies under the degree category otherwise known as M.Div for International Church Planting while remaining in a state of indecision between that and the MA Intercultural Studies.  Soooo now you're caught up, back to brunch.  This was a meeting to inform us of the requirements and details of the program, let me summarize it for some of you: 60 hours of credit on campus in 2 years, the remainder of credit hours in a 2 year deployment overseas (essentially the Journeyman program).

After the meeting, not only was I undecided, I was overcome with fear... and questions... primarily how?
How can I obtain a 60 credit hour degree in 2 years? How can I afford to do so financially? How can I go overseas alone? ...Just a few, but the most unsettling, to say the least.  And you get the idea.

As I stood in the church service this morning repeating the worship lyrics, "I trust in You; I trust in You," I had to question, do I really believe, Lord, that you are my portion? Do I really believe Jesus is more than enough for me? And all that I need?
I had to bow my head and repent from this fear that grips my heart when I think of the road upon which God has placed my feet.  In my spirit of fear, I did not trust my Sovereign King, and I needed to be reminded that He has not given me a spirit of fear, but one of power, of love, and a sound mind. 

Will I fear again? Absolutely.  It's my nature to sin.  I hate it.  Jesus hates it more than I do.  But His grace and mercy are so incredibly overwhelming and His Spirit is ever-empowering as I learn my sin and practice walking with Him. 

God's provision has been endless as I've made my steps onto the campus at Southeastern.  God has allowed me to make this physical journey with a friend, a continual blessing and comfort.  He has permitted me a job working in childcare, humbling that He will select me to show love to His little ones.  And He has connected Clark and I with a couple of friends with whom we can continue the search for a church home, which I'm certain is not far in the future.

I'm looking forward to visiting home in the next week to share encouragement and love with my Knoxville family.  Your consistent prayers are evident both in sight and in spirit in my life and you cannot begin to imagine my gratitude to you for continuing walking in ministry with me even 300+ miles away :-)



And yes I'm 2 and a half hours away from the beach ;-)

I Survived Da Imu!*

Well I survived one week of seminary!!!  Let's have a recap :-)
So far this week I have managed to.....
Discover Wake Forest, Raleigh, Durham, AND Chapel Hill.  Complete student orientation.  Register for classes.  Re-register and change almost my entire schedule the following day.  Go for a bike ride alone while talking on the phone (love you Kari :) ).  Attend one day of classes.  Bash myself in the back of the head with my books while exiting a bathroom stall.  Lose at CatchPhrase on game night.  Cook one dinner.  Eat numerous bologna sandwiches.  Find a park for bike riding.  Meet all male friends and one female.  Get invited to a stranger's birthday party.  Discover Clark's roommate is the male version of my good friend Rachel (love you too ;) ).  Grow accustomed to a new roommate.  Stay up late every night and sleep in every day (I had good intentions).  Have a run-in with the maintenance man (few are privy to details).  Job hunt endlessly online and to no avail.  Lock myself out of my apartment with no shoes, make-up, cell phone or any other personal belonging.  Party at open mic night on a Sonic patio.  And lastly almost attend a "teen night" function at a shady building akin to a church. 


All in all, I think I'm adjusting pretty well... wouldn't you say? I mean, up to all the familiar antics and whatnot.  If you want to hear details, you'll just have to ask me.  Full versions of stories (mine anyways) are far too long for blogging. 
While I can always have lots of good laughs at myself (if you can't laugh at you, who can ya laugh at?), I have to admit I've moved rather unwillingly into that quiet stage that I do when I first begin anything.  For those of you who've never seen this side of me and wonder to what I'm referring, you can ask Meggan or maybe even Rachel.  There's this side of me that thinks she has to observe and soak in everything in this stifling state of quietude, and I really hate it about myself.  But I know I'll get comfortable enough eventually to open up and then I'll feel like "me" again.  Don't worry Wake Forest, I'll bring out the cheese soon enough!!


And positively, I've been on time to everything so far!! (I'd tell you the truth and say I've actually been early to things, but I know you won't believe me).  And I'm teaching myself (and trying really hard) to maintain some sort of organized chaos with my books and notes and endless checklists!


*in case you were wondering, or for those who just want to get culturally stretched, an imu is an underground oven used to roast pigs at Hawaiian luaus.  Basically, a hot pit of coals.  Yeah, you may have seen those guys in grass skirts walk across them.  Get the reference? :)