Archives For Gospel

Loving When It Hurts

February 6, 2017 — 2 Comments

Have you ever purchased furniture that comes in a box? Our office is full of IKEA desks and bookshelves from the Swedish furniture titan.  As I begin each assembly, I open the manual, look at the simple pictures, and review the short list of required tools. Filled with unbridled but unfounded optimism, I naively dive into the assembly.

However, as each project unfolds, my frustration inevitably grows.  The simple pictures are never simple to follow. In fact, I’ve never reached the end of a project and thought, “That was easy!”  Each piece takes far more time to assemble than anticipated, eroding my patience to pitiful levels and causing me to mutter Swedish words.

This doesn’t just apply to furniture assembly. For many of us, when we first stepped out into the work of loving and serving others, we had a simplistic (and perhaps naïve) vision of just how easy it was going to be. Turns out, loving others is far more complicated and difficult than we originally imagined.

Several years ago, my wife and I attended a summit designed for families walking through adoption and foster care. I imagine that most of the attendees found themselves in the same place that I did: armed with the ardent conviction of our call to love and care for orphans, widows, and vulnerable children. God has been unmistakably clear in His charge to the Church to care for them. To Laurel and I, our next step seemed obvious: Kids in crisis were in need of a safe place to live, and we had room in our hearts and our home. The math was simple, and love rooted in the Gospel compelled us to respond.

But cheerful brochures with smiling children hide the reality that between those moments of giggles are a lot of tears.

Our family took a deep breath, and plunged head-first into a world of addiction, hurt, and pain. We opened up our home to provide respite care, knowing that loving people is an inherently dangerous thing to do. We genuinely believed that we were ready.

Nothing could have prepared us for what was coming.

Our experience in welcoming a child turned into the single most painful season of our lives. I experienced fear like I’ve never felt it before. Pain and resentment became constant companions—and the most wrenching pain that I experienced was watching the people that I love the most become deeply wounded.

Here is what I’ve come to believe: There are no simple ways to love others. Love is costly. Indeed, as people invited to incarnate Christ in a broken world, if our love looks anything like Jesus’ love, it could cost us everything that we’ve got. Faithfully loving others like Jesus loves them inevitably means that you will experience hurt.

Stepping out to welcome the foreigner, protect the widow, defend the fatherless, and love our brothers and sisters living on the fringes of society isn’t comfortable or safe. Empowered by the Holy Spirit and motivated by the same wild, scandalous love that once rescued us, we are called to step into the good works that God has prepared in advance for us. If you have embarked on a journey to love the vulnerable and found it to be more difficult than you imagined, do not lose heart!

How are we to respond to the pain that accompanies living lives marked by costly love?

 1. Expect that loving others is going to be hard.

Don’t believe the IKEA manual claim that the task ahead of you will be simple, or that trite explanations and simple solutions are going to fix all the problems. Real life rarely presents itself in a sanitized, comfortable way.

Instead, lean into the truth that the world is broken. We know that Jesus has won the war—but the battle rages on. We shouldn’t be surprised when life is painful. We shouldn’t be surprised when relationships are difficult. We shouldn’t be surprised when hurt people hurt us.

We are to go into our service with our eyes wide open that “in this world you will have troubles” (John 16:33).

What’s the benefit of expecting it? It helps us to more fully enter into the beautiful moments of life—the hugs, the smiles, the “I love you’s.” Enjoy these moments. Savor them. But don’t be surprised when they’re intertwined with heartbreak.

When we expect challenges, we increase our ability to savor the moments of joy and cling firmly to the second part of the verse from John’s gospel: “Take heart, for I have overcome the world.”

 2. Call for help.

IKEA manuals always have the same last picture: Call someone.

Pierre, a friend of mine, told me that in rural Rwanda, it’s common knowledge that you always need at least four close friends, people you can call at any time, day or night. It’s four, because that’s the number of people it takes to carry a stretcher.

Strong lifelong friendships don’t just happen; they take intentionality and commitment. Invest in the relationships that matter, and they will sustain you in all seasons of life.

When we reached out to a friend in the midst of the pain of adoption, she responded, “We are going to walk this together, and while we don’t know God’s big picture or the end result, I believe many lives will be changed and hearts will be saturated with the reality of true Kingdom loving. Don’t look ahead. Just do the next thing. Trust and obey. One loving act at a time.” In that moment, it was exactly what we needed to hear.

3. Look up. Constantly.

In moments of incredible trial, where do we fix our eyes?

  • We might look back and obsess over our past. Previous failures and “if-only” scenarios can crush us, if we let them.
  • We might look forward and fret over our future. This is especially easy when we still have questions about what is going to come in the next moment, let alone the next month or next year.
  • We might look inward and become paralyzed by our hurt.
  • We might look side-to-side and ask why other people seem to have it infinitely easier than we do.

Yet we are to be a people of hope who look up. This is not a cliché. These are true words. When life feels impossibly hard, we remember that we have nowhere else to go. As we read in Psalms 121, “I lift my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, Maker of Heaven and earth.” Look to Jesus, the One who perfectly shows us what wild, scandalous, costly, fearless love looks like in practice.

Friends, as you step out in the significant work of loving others, do it empowered by the Spirit and saturated in grace. Do it surrounded by a community of people cheering you on and supporting you. Do it knowing that God has promised to use all things, both the moments of great success and moments of heart-wrenching pain, for our good and His glory.

My hope is that we will be known as people who run to the suffering and the hurting, instead of running away. That we will stop to make time to respond to the needs all around us—even though doing so will bring both beauty and pain. That we would be prepared to live fearlessly and love boldly. And that we will continue to press into the dangerous work of loving like Jesus.

For many living under the Roman Empire at the time of Jesus’ birth, there was only one ruler, and that was Caesar. Following years of war, infighting, chaos, and uncertainty, Augustus Caesar’s reign brought historic peace and unity to the empire. His military triumphs and political successes caused Roman citizens to view him not just as their leader but a god, a “messiah.” He was so revered that in 27 BCE, the Roman Senate changed his name to Augustus, meaning “worthy of veneration and worship.” And whenever Augustus’ feats were announced, they were described using the term euangelion, the Greek word for “gospel” or “good news.”

But Caesar wasn’t the Promised One. Built on the backs of slaves and conquered peoples, his rule elevated the powerful while oppressing the vulnerable, relied on peace begotten by violence, and, ultimately, was centered around himself. Despite his conquests, Augustus wasn’t the savior. He wasn’t the one worthy of worship.

In the surprising story of God’s faithfulness, Israel’s rescue—and our own—didn’t come through an emperor but through a child, born to a teenage girl in a smelly stable. Hardly a place fit for the King. But this is the mystery of our faith. This baby is the only one who is, in Isaiah’s words, our Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. He is the one who rescues and redeems. He is our Messiah, the only one worthy of our worship.

This Christmas, let’s turn from lesser rescuers to adore the Christ Child about whom Isaiah prophesied—the King who has come and who will come again, just as He promised.


For more on the cultural and political context of the Roman Empire during the time of Christ’s birth, read “Behind Luke’s Gospel” by Kurt Willems.

I recently had two great opportunities to talk about HOPE’s work on NPR member stations, WHYY Radio, based in Philadelphia, and witf, based in Harrisburg.

NPR is not my regular venue, and I was thrilled with the opportunity to talk about HOPE in this setting. I am used to speaking at churches, Christian business conferences, and mission seminars–where people want to hear about our work to combat spiritual poverty just as much as our work to address physical poverty.

At HOPE, our core commitment is addressing physical and spiritual poverty. When we share HOPE’s story, it’s never enough just to talk about job creation and economic development – a part of our core message has to talk about the hope that is found through Jesus Christ.

Even in a secular setting, we always want to succinctly and clearly convey the Gospel and why this is an essential part of our mission. It would be easy to selectively leave out this aspect of our identity, but to do so would not only falsely represent HOPE, but also miss an opportunity to talk about the most amazing story the world has ever heard.

 

 

 

From the first time that I picked up a lacrosse stick, played soccer, or watched the New England Patriots, I have always loved competition.  But I’ve started to question the impact my competitive attitude has on the way I view other organizations.

Because of charity watchdogs like Charity Navigator, following nonprofit trends is like following sports statistics.  Nonprofit ratings are out in the open—you can track revenue growth, organizational efficiency—whether nonprofits are winning big or in stages of decline.

A few days ago, a friend sent me a summary of HOPE’s key statistics compared to our “competition.”  But then it hit me—the Gospel of Jesus calls us to a different way of measuring success. It should be about using what we’ve been given—other organizations should not be the measuring stick.

I believe there are two simple questions that serve as a gut check on whether or not you see other organizations as partners or competitors:

  1. Do you celebrate their success? When you hear that another organization just landed a major grant from a foundation that recently denied your proposal, can you still celebrate?
  2. Do you openly share information that would give another organization an advantage? If you’ve just discovered a new piece of information that would positively impact another organization in the same sector, do you pass it on or keep it to yourself?

I believe in competition—it strengthens and sharpens. But I also believe that between ministry organizations, the pervasive attitude should be one of collaboration and partnership. When we see partner organizations primarily as competition, we all lose.

[Note - we will have the opportunity to live this out during the Microenterprise Development Summit in Baltimore on November 16-17. Info at http://accordnetwork.org/forum/microenterprise/]