There is no shadow of turning with Thee
Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not
As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be
Great is Thy faithfulness, great is Thy faithfulness
Morning by morning new mercies I see
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided,
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.
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I really like mandolins. I spent a few weeks researching in my off-time, finding which ones are worth the money and which aren’t, what kind of set-up costs would a new mando incur, where and when to buy, etc. Joel, the father in the awesome family with whom I currently reside, researched with me. In end, the knowledge that I did not need a mando, and the lingering suspicion and guilt accompanying spending money(1), resulted in me NOT buying a mandolin. Man, I had high aspirations. We’d play it that thing in RUF, in the House, on Table Rock, at a contra dance. But in the end, I didn’t need it, and I felt the guilt, however unreasonable, coming. So I didn’t buy. I figure, if I’m supposed to have a mandolin, I’m gonna find one dirt cheap, or one’s gonna drop in my lap.
Joel bought one (he’s way more fun than me), so I did get to play his a bit.
I’ve struggled SO much with wanting to accomplish things this summer. The fact is, you don’t really accomplish much church planting, by man’s measurements. Attendance didn’t explode. Offerings didn’t triple. I haven’t seen any miraculous healings while walking downtown (yet). I’ve really struggled with wanting to minister to strangers, and having no idea how to start. Church planting’s hard.
I’ve wrestled with the conflict between resting in God and pursuing God. How do I seek His face, yet trust that He is the one doing the moving? When I chase Him, I naturally think me finding Him depends on me. It doesn’t, and so I become frustrated (hence last post). The reality is, it’s all up to Him, on His time.
I have fought with a perceived lack of compassion within me own heart. So much of my ‘love’ is done out of either a sense of duty or a self-gratification- it makes all the discussion of repenting even of our best days makes sense. I want to really love people, I want to see deep down that the Father desires them more than anything. Like a farmer, who finds a treasure in a field, and sells everything to get the field for his own. Or a collector who finds that one pearl worth it all else. I want to run to the next person I see with any injury, compelled to pray because I am struck by the sheer greatness of the Father’s love towards them. I want gut-wrenching compassion. (Be careful what you wish for, right?).
These struggles have been with me since the beginning. Even as I headed to camp.
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I decided to give doubt no quarter at camp, to trust God’s faithfulness, and to persevere for a few more weeks, at least.
After camp, I had the afternoon and evening of that first Monday off.
I went to a coffee shop and wrote the first draft of the last post, somewhat frustrated, somewhat grumpy.
As I wrote, the guy next to me kept commenting on the fluctuation of the internet connection. So we had a conversation, discussed Wesley vs. Calvin (like I’m really that well versed in the Institutes), and he talked a little about his wife that left him. Hm. Odd listening to a stranger talk about hard stuff. Kinda like ministry.
I went for a walk downtown. I had a couple conversations with assorted strangers about my camera as I tried to capture the moon. Actually, a guy I met a few weeks ago, my age, who happens to have just studied abroad in South Africa (like me), was down by the water, and we chatted with his girlfriend about lunar photography (a passion of his) and soccer (hers). A connection I fully expected to die was rekindled. Hm. Odd. This felt like relational ministry. With strangers.
I kept shooting (camera, not gun) as they went along. An older fellow walked up and started chatting about the history of the place. We talked for, eh, two hours or so (2). He told me about his late wife, how she hid things from him, but how he still loved her. He teared up several times. He spoke of change, of times gone and time going, of medicine and disease, of bootlegging and flounder-gigging, of family and friends, cancer, death and dying. And so we talked the evening away, as the moon rose out of focus. I listened mainly. In the end, I prayed with him, and we went our separate ways. Here’s to you, Bert.
But don’t miss something. Ministry to strangers, all over the place, and I had nothing to do with it.
I got an email pretty soon after that. Maybe Wednesday. A gal I met briefly the weekend before wrote to say that she felt God wanted me to know some things (something I’m always glad to know).
She told me that I had a heart to rest in God. A peace-carrier, she called me. She said that this abiding would lead to empowerment for ministry.
She told me that my compassion was genuine, that I really loved well. That God thought I loved well, her words.
Then she told me to have a great day, and added a little emoticon (3). And that was that.
God is faithful. Very, very faithful. He knows my heart. He knows the silly things over which I wrestle. And, sometimes, His love and faithfulness are very obvious- particularly when they are unexpected.
One last example. Joel walked in last week while I was a-pickin’ on his beautiful mando. He tells me that, when he bought it, he felt God immediately tell him that its purpose was to be given away. And, it seemed apparent to Joel, seeing as how I’d taken to it, that he was supposed to give it…to me.
I have a beautiful mandolin.
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Faithfulness with predictability yields boredom and robotics.
Adventure without faithfulness yields fear and disaster.
In God, we have faithfulness and adventure, for He changeth not, yet we see new mercies each day.
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Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me. And that’s that. Yea and Amen.
I’ll be home on Sunday.
-drew
ps- pray for me. I’m preachin’ this week.
Footnotes:
(1) No lie, the camera I bought last summer was a point of conflict in my heart and in my head for months. NOTE: Wealth is not a problem. Jesus commanding the rich young ruler to sell his house and giving the money to the poor was not a universal declaration of the Christian life. It was a particular challenge to a particular idolatry- that of wealth, and of finding one’s hope and security in money. On the other hand, the man who stores up great wealth for tomorrow’s security is called a fool by God in Luke 12. That challenges my savings account- something I will continue to wrestle with. But King David was ballin’ rich. AND he was a man after God’s own heart. So wealth, in and of itself, is not a problem. Maybe a post on that later.
(2) yup. TWO HOURS.
(3) :)
