Hubris (n):

Rod Blagojevich.

Christmas project

A friend of mine is going for another chemo treatment today, Christmas Eve. Down the street, my neighbor is dealing with the news that the cancer was not just in the tumor, but in the bladder wall, too. A dear friend is in Iowa, post-funeral for her mother. Another is in Pittsburgh—same situation.

The Christmas cards I received this year are filled with personal notes: "My mother is fighting lymphoma; I'm spending time in Nebraska with her." "My father died this year and my mother is spiraling downward. Still, we are blessed." "November: chemo starts for my brain tumor."

Some friends have taken in family members who are in trouble when no one else would. They're doing the right thing but feeling the strain. A friend at church continues to be her husband's caregiver; his diabetes has led to multiple hospitalizations in the last year. Some women at church are regular visitors to a friend who has been in and out of hospitals and rehab facilities for several years. They haven't forgotten her.

There are a lot of hurting people out there—people we know and interact with every day. Sometimes they're dealing with illness or death, sometimes with financial problems. Sometimes they are weighed down with caregiving or heavy responsibilities.

When the lawyer asked Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?" in Luke 10, he was not prepared for the answer. Everyone is our neighbor.

My challenge to myself, and to you, is to reach out to people you know are hurting in this Christmas season. Send them an email. Give them a call. Stop by for a visit. Do something nice to show you care.

In Galatians 6:2, Paul writes that when we share one another's burdens, we are fulfilling the law of Christ. What is that law? That we love one another. You can look through the whole Bible and the theme is consistent. Love one another. Let's get out there and do it. It's part of the big picture of what Christmas is all about.

Behind the scenes work

Today someone told me that one of the things they like about our church—a thing that attracted them to us— is that we seem to have more than our share of people with problems.

That's a compliment.

They said they thought it shows our church really does extend grace to people who are different, who have issues, who have difficult lives. That we're not pretending we love messy people, but secretly don't want them around. They like that when they come to our church they don't see a lot of people who are pretending to be perfect.

I hear comments like that, and I think, "Well, what do you know? It seems like we have made some progress as part of the body of Christ."

One of the watchwords in our congregation is "real." We want to be real Christians who are authentically attempting to live our lives as Jesus would have us live. Over the years, taking this seriously began to create an atmosphere where people actually try pretty hard. I tell visitors that one of the best things about our church is that we have a good heart. It's true, and it's something of which I am glad to be a part.

What most people don't know, however, is that there is a cost to being this kind of a church. We have more than our share of behind-the-scenes work to do with the "messy" people we attract. There's a lot of counseling going on, bad behavior to confront, and a lot more. I don't know that I've ever been in a church where the leadership has had to deal with this frequency of personal crisis situations, year in and year out.

It's the work of transformation. People come in messy, and as the opportunities present themselves, we do what we can to speak God's truth into their lives. Sometimes we see growth. Other times the people turn away, leave the church, or wallow in their difficulties. It takes a lot of time and energy on our part, and it doesn't always work.

Still, the impression I'm always left with is that when the leaders of our church meet up with Jesus, each in our own time, this is the kind of work he will mention to us as the most important for the Kingdom. The messy people matter to Jesus. And anything we can do on their behalf, even if it does not seem successful to us, somehow matters in the Kingdom.

Fragility

Today I was part of a team talking to one of our more fragile parishioners who's gotten into a bad place because they believed God was calling them to dream big dreams. It's largely self-inflicted, and we had to tell them that.

This is not a task I enjoy. Situations like this are some of the most difficult things about ministry.

What saddens me is how often the church itself has a share of the blame in how people get themselves into these messes. So often fragile people seek out churches because they're looking for something to hold on to, and the idea that all they have to do is believe strongly enough in Jesus for prosperity to come to them, or for God to use them in a big way is very appealing.

Often these folks believe God is calling them to take big risks and step out in faith with no safety net.

It's easy to wag the finger at "prosperity Gospel" churches that seem to specialize in such messages. But how many times can you recall hearing this kind of thing from guest speakers brought into your local church? We listen to countless stories of daring: missionary miracles; businesses that no one believed in but themselves and God; the person who quit their job, gathered up all their savings, and headed out like Abraham for parts unknown.

These modern-day stories of faith rewarded are standard fare. And there are biblical examples that seem to support this kind of theology. Even though the biblical characters were in extraordinary circumstances, we often use their examples as what we can normally expect God to ask of us.

What even our best-intentioned churches don't seem to follow up on, though, is how to make sure you are hearing God clearly enough. You need to be able to discern whether what you think you're hearing is what you're hearing.

Absent this kind of safeguarding, I've noticed that some of our most fragile folks think they're hearing from God when they're not. And when they take reckless action in response, disaster often results: financial, spiritual, and relational.

I've come to the conclusion we should never present a Bible study, a guest speaker or a sermon about an extraordinary step of faith without also including information on discernment. Whenever we do otherwise, I believe there's the potential to "cause one of our little ones to stumble."

Sometimes, I'm proud of our church folks

When you work in ministry, you often get complaints.

Something wasn't done well, or right. People didn't help enough. Someone got saddled with all the work. Your theology is off. The music's too loud. We did things better back at my old church. We visited your church and you let us down.

This last one has always stumped me, mostly because I personally would never have the guts to write a pastor I didn't know and tell them their church is no good.

But such is life.

We got one of these the other week, and it was a stumper. The writer claimed they visited but had been ignored. The email was shared with church leadership, and as the week progressed, it became apparent that not only was this not the case, but that the person's family had been emailed, called on the phone, and even had coffee with folks from our church. What's more, each of these acts of friendship came from a different church person. And in addition, while some of the acts were by leaders, others came from our rank and file members.

What started out as a complaint turned into an affirmation of the many ways we are trying to reach out to our visitors.

We still haven't figured out why our actions seemingly have not been enough for this family, but at least we know our community is trying. I say, "Good for us."

Sometimes, we do get it right.

Similarities

The members of one of my small groups recently challenged themselves to adopt members of the military who are serving in Iraq or Afghanistan and do not receive regular mail. Some friends of ours whose son just returned from his second tour of duty in Iraq provided the names.

When we were trying to figure out what to send, we found numerous lists of items on—of course—the Internet. The items looked reasonable, but basic: toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant, hand sanitizer, hard candies, old magazines and paperbacks, and so forth.

At the same time, our church is doing a Christmas mission project for a homeless shelter. We are providing "gift bags" to men in the shelter. We were given a list of items we could provide. It was extremely similar to the list I was using to purchase items for the soldier.

This got me to thinking.

In the past I've participated in mission projects for nursing home residents. It's essentially the same list of items. Soldiers, homeless people, nursing home residents. People who are easily forgotten until it's a designated time to remember them.

Are these really the items they need? Or are they items that must be provided by someone as a matter of course?

Does my soldier appreciate cast-off paperbacks and magazines? Or does he look at them as someone just cleaning out their recycling pile? I've often wondered this about used clothing donations. Is cleaning out my closet really an act of charity that helps others, or is it a way to unclutter my house and feel good about myself?

Do these items actually make the recipients feel happy and loved? Or are there more creative, time-consuming, thoughtful—dare I say it—expensive things we could be doing instead? Things that would take a chunk, instead of a token, out of us?

I don't have the answers. But I do have a lot of questions.