Tag: Encouragement

a letter to a grieving friend questioning his faith

 

My friend J____,

Your words leave me grasping for words that don’t smack of buttoned-up pietism or following predictable lines. As I mentioned earlier, I believe the Lord has kept me on an essential fast from offering you words that might lose their impact as soon as they touched your device! It’s now the middle of the night and I feel I’m awakened by God with a direction in response to a repeated cry to him for such.

A couple weeks ago I was in the Poconos of Pennsylvania with Sandy where I served as the guest speaker for an audience of disabled folk at their annual July Camp. I try to only preach what the Father burns into my heart (I wish I always succeeded at this, but it is my fervent intent), and, for reasons known only to him, I was given the task of preaching through the book of Ecclesiastes.

I know. 

It could *only* be his prompting.

Long story short, it was a marvelous dive that was wonderfully received (praise God!) and His gospel came through each session through the book and I believe he got what he was after through it. That became clearly evident as I counseled many in between the chapel services.

During one of the sessions I went off script and shared my story (which you’ve heard) and was asked afterward by a woman who was there as a volunteer if I’d ever been bitter about the whole ‘satan-meant-it-for-evil-God-intended-it-for-good’ drama of my life. Never hesitating, I said “never, not even once.”

It’s been asked of me dozens or more times in these 38 years, and my response has never wavered. It’s always, “Never, Ever.” I usually  go on to explain (as I did that morning with C____) that I prayed for it to happen; that my heart lifted up the offering of my legs to God in an anguished moment of surrender. He took me at face value and, voilà!, I’m a paraplegic. I am often quick to add the disclaimer: in my fevered, youthful zeal, I only meant I was willing to forfeit the ability to walk….and that only temporarily. I had no idea catheters, and pressure sores, and UTI’s, and atrophy, and bowel programs, and a hundred other debilitating, embarrassing, painful, pitiful things would be added into the deal. And for a lifetime. These, my friend – these – I have been known to rail against God about, often with choice words. And these I repent of, for reasons we’ll come to in a bit.

My son, my only child, departed this hard sod in a mean, cruel way. We (Sandy and I) did not fake a Job reaction, we lived it. “The Lord has given, the Lord has taken, blessed be the name of the Lord.” Both of us were wont to expect this would be how the story played out (because of Graham’s addiction roulette), had been waiting for the ‘phone call’ for years, not to mention prepared for it with grieving grace. The controversy with God came when we asked if he couldn’t have intervened and overwritten the genetic code with which our Graham came pre-packaged. Why, God? We accepted his death as a mercy to pull him from the self-cannibalism of addiction but wondered often why he couldn’t have been fixed.

I’m less argumentative today with the rabbi who lost a child, was eventually brought to the conclusion that God cannot be both all loving and all powerful at the same time, and wrote a bestseller about it. The rabbi waved a white flag as an acceptance mechanism that God didn’t head the tragedy off at the pass because he couldn’t, not wouldn’t. He and I part ways at his dreadful conclusion, but I do understand the pain that brought him to it.

God is all-loving, all-suffering, all-powerful, all-in, all-active, all-supportive. These truths keep me from falling away. Suffering on the scale that I have known has made me a mixture of both Arminian and Calvinist. I hold tightly to the theological rung of God‘s sovereignty; but my other hand is equally holding on to the rung of prevenient grace, that God is trusting me to hold to him for all he’s worth even when reason tells me to flee.

I had the opportunity to preach at a black church a week ago (pastored by a beloved friend I’m mentoring) and shared with the congregants the prosperity gospel of Paul. It is found in 2 Corinthians 12 and summed up in the word “weakness.” In the message I declared that my paralysis and all that comes with it, and my daily grieving for our son, has been used of God to heal the deeper afflictions of my soul: my self-godship.

When I take up a “self-pity cross” and rage against God and question his love, each and every time – whether immediately or after a season of soulish pouting – I am lovingly brought to repentance by the kindness of God. He implores me in these mercies to lay that one down and take up the cross of his design, the one for which he gives me grace to carry. I know full well when I am carrying the wrong cross, for those are the times I strive to expose him for the despot I think him to be, and all is vanity and meaninglessness.

I think I have a better grasp on why the Preacher of Ecclesiastes said going to the house of mourning is better than going to the house of feasting. Death – and mourning – have to do with resurrection (life to come), while feasting, as good and wonderful as these times can be, does not teach us we are created for something more but rather occupies us with this world.

My body would prefer my legs, and my soul would prefer my son and having some grandkids, but these fit into the category of “temporal“ things (2 Cor 4:18). Ah, but let’s not put too exact a period there – perhaps an ellipsis would do better – for an all-loving God has grace for temporal things too. It’s just that he has his eyes set on what’s after the temporary blessings of life. And so my heart prefers his plan, trusts his ways, and leans hard into his love. His love conquers all (Rom 8:31-39).

I believe these are the things the Father has awakened me to share with you, and I will trust that they might be an encouragement. Bless you, my brother. I have grieved with you … and all affected by this suffocating tragedy, and have done so nonstop.

I pray to God that none of these words sound Christian-ese, but because God woke me up, I believe they are what is on his heart for you. I remain, as ever, available to listen, to wait, and to understand throughout this process of venting and grieving. Believe me, Sandy and I know this familiar place.

All for Jesus,

Scott

ministers, not messiahs.

St Augustine Beach ©️Pasturescott

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said.

No prayer fully expresses our faith.

No confession brings perfection.

No pastoral visit brings wholeness.

No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.

No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.

We plant the seeds that one day will grow.

We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.

We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.

This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.

It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an
opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.

We are prophets of a future not our own.

~ Bishop Kenner Untener, October 25, 1979

Dear Church, Your Problem Isn’t With Caitlyn

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1 Corinthians 5:12,13
For what have I to do with judging outsiders? Is it not those inside the church whom you are to judge? God judges those outside…

                                        *       *       *

Acts 17:30-31
“God…has set a day when the entire human race will be judged and everything set right. And he has already appointed the judge, confirming him before everyone by raising him from the dead.”

Once upon a time I fancied myself on the order of ‘tell ’em like it is’ Isaiah or a hair-pulling Nehemiah or Day-of-the-Lord-Joel. There’s certainly nothing wrong with these approaches – if that’s what God has called you to do. Dare I even say, having an anointing for it.

For a large portion of my traveling ministry I bristled at the term ‘evangelist’, informing pastors straightaway my calling is to the church, not the lost and outside. I cozied up much better to ‘revival speaker’ as I believed my purpose was best utilized for lighting a fire under the church.

God certainly has His evangelists and prophets, but how quickly had I forgotten His mission for me, spelled out in a thought-conversation between us as I lay broken-back paralyzed on a hospital bed in 1981? In a flow of revelation, I heard the kindness of God speak to my wondering mind:

Scott (we’re on a first-name basis), My Church is filled with broken people and I want you to share My message of hope and grace to My hurting remnant.”

But what title goes with that? What office of the Church is this? How do pastors introduce me? Encourager? Healer?

(I dunno, how about – just spitballin’ here – “Scott”; I mean, that’s what my Father calls me…)

All that to say this: I get it. Perhaps 20 or 30 years later, but I understand. I’m an encourager. That’s how God uses me. It can sometimes cross over into exhorter, but always in a spirit of encouragement. God has His prophets, but that’s not really my gig.

So when I write posts like this, I know I’m taking a risk. I realize I’m playing with Ezekiel’s fire, so I’ll do so ever so cautiously, and, trust me, by the end you’ll see more of my encouragement resurface.

Still, I feel compelled. Not by Scott Mitchell but by the Spirit of Christ who called me to preach the Good News of liberation (God used Isaiah 61:1,2 to bring me to my teen-aged senses). Inherent in my calling to encourage the Body is my own hope to see the church set free.

So first, if you haven’t already, go back to the top and read those lead-in scriptures. I’ll wait for you back here.

(Pause)

Wait. Don’t jump on the bandwagon of “Christians shouldn’t judge” and fly this flag as its emblem. Nossir. That’s not what Paul is saying.

Of course we’re supposed to judge! Only, we must never judge in the sense of writing somebody off or sending them to their doom with ‘wiping hands clean’ hearts. Matthew 7:1 has to be balanced against Matthew 7:16 and John 7:24. Our judging must be filtered through the lens of humility and tempered by the love of Christ.

And…according to these and many other scriptures, Christians are supposed to judge.

Other Christians.

God has given the church the mandate to judge itself – albeit righteously and mercifully (see Gal 6:1-ff).

And that’s what I’m doing here. I’m posting this blog to say ‘brethren, we’re in sad shape and may God heal us of all our diseases.‘

Frankly, we’re so sick we shouldn’t have a lot of extra time snorting and harrumphing on Facebook, demeaning the sins of others; others, of course, being those outside the faith.

I’m choosing not to join the fray on these matters and others that appear to be blowing up my timelines on Twitter and Facebook. The fact I’m not joining in isn’t out of cowardice (I know where I stand, I just don’t have weapons in my hands while doing it) but because I’m waiting for the church to be just as angry about its own sin instead of focusing on those glaring offenses blitzing our social mediums.

Those matters are ‘Adam behaving like Adam’. It’s what unredeemed Adam does. (Okay, understand I’m not talking about violence and criminal activity in this post – there are necessary repercussions for these)

I could talk all day about the many offenses of the church in our time but I’m choosing to only name three. Only three. Three biggies, mind you, but just these three…for starters.

If the church could repent of just these three, I believe the world would be in a much different place. Oh, the unbelieving world that chooses to remain in its unbelief will still be well on its way to hell, but if these three things could be dealt with, my my my, what a difference there could be.

But I’m warning you, they’re big. I mean mountainous. No, mountain range-ous. I’m talking Swiss Alps here.

Here they are:

1. SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS

It seems fairly obvious to me we like to point out the big foibles of others’ lives so we don’t have to look at our own damning issues.

When I see hateful, hurtful posts spewing venom at the unredeemed by professing believers, I’m wont to ask, so how’s that lying problem of yours? Jesus said liars and hypocrites won’t inherit the Kingdom of heaven. Are you loving your wife as Christ loves His Bride, or thinking it’s just a suggestion? Have you lusted on the internet recently? Any person for whom you’re harboring unforgiveness?

Hear me: I’m not leaving myself out of the mix. I’m well aware of the thoughts I can think and the emotions as judge, jury, and executioner I can call up in a heartbeat. I’m simply making a plea for self-examination, for falling on the mercy of Jesus once we’ve each had a long, hard look at the man in the mirror. If we’ve been forgiven much, we’ll love much, Jesus said.

2. DIVISIVENESS

How silly is it that we feel we have any authority at all to morally legislate the behaviors of those outside the faith, when we can’t even get along inside the household of faith? Are you kidding me?

38 THOUSAND denominations in Christianity today? 38 maybe, but 3-8-comma-and-3-zeros? That’s 38,000 times a group has splintered off another group – often (not always, I realize) out of unyieldedness, stubbornness, selfish ambition, heavy-handedness, unfixable divides, and bearing grudges instead of bearing with one another.

I’m not even going to go into all the splinterings and splits within churches of the same denomination!

Jesus prayed that His people would be one (John 17:23,24). My spiritual father calls this “the most evangelistic prayer ever prayed” because Jesus said its answer would result in the world seeing Christ on earth, in full display, and “believe” (v21).

Maybe, just maybe, there would be less Caitlyns if only they would see more of the beautifulness (it’s possibly a word) of Jesus and His life on display among His followers.

Please, let us dream.

3. LUKEWARMNESS

This speaks to lukewarm love; yes, for Christ, certainly, but a tepid love for others, both the fallen & lost, and the wayward & scandalized. Jesus forecasted a cooling of love in the last days (Matthew 24:12), moving into cold-heartedness. I think He knew it would also be so among His so-called followers, regretfully.

Where is the love for the lost? Where is gracious compassion for the impenitent? Why the vitriol for sinners? Why the hatred and Pharisaic disgust for the unclean?  Have we forgotten how once we were so far off, despising God and His reign, shaking our fist at heaven … and yet … and yet … “God [showed] His love for us while we were yet sinners…”???

We can’t blame the gays on any of these sins of the church. We can’t point a finger at Hollywood or the Democratic Party or Obama or Hillary Clinton or the Supreme Court for our slide and failures. 

Merciful Jesus, in G.K. Chesterton style, I say in answer to the query of “what’s wrong with the world?” a resounding, “I am.”

I am…

Dear Church, no finger-pointing here.

I’m a self-righteous Pharisee at times. I snort at the sinner and glad-hand myself for my straight-arrow walk. Foolish am I.

I can be divisive – perhaps not openly so, but in my heart I can grumble about another who has better gifts than I minister with, and I can gossip in the name of Jesus – even if it’s *only* to my spouse, thus coloring her opinion thence onward. Ragamuffin am I.

I have a flagging love for others. I can choose to walk around a dirty street person every once in awhile so as not to be bothered whilst on my alternative mission, or sigh when I see “that person” calling or texting me again, and what can they possibly need now … or … why can’t they just get over their stuff??? 

Jerk am I.

I’m not immune any more than you are, but I know this: the same Jesus that loved me in spite of my hatred of Him before I mercifully saw the Light, loves me still, in spite of these confessions, and He’s not writing me off.

I’m making it my heart’s pledge to never do that to anybody, either. I’m going to believe that Caitlyn Jenner is loved by God and the broken places that no surgery can fix can be mercifully touched and transformed (not transgendered) by His love. Snarkiness never won nobody to Jesus. I’m believing Tony Campolo is my brother and I can see past our disagreements to a man (like me) still on his way to fullness and find the Jesus in him. (To hear some tell it, he’s already been ascribed to hell.) Same with the Duggars or Rob Bell. Or the pope. And the LGBT community. And ____________ (insert politician’s name here). 

Is it easy? Was it “easy” for God to love me in my darkest rebellion? Remember: He still came looking for Adam when He knew what the rascal’d done. That’s my mandate. Never give up, never let go, never write off, never condemn, never stop loving. Tears, backstabs, betrayals, sleepless nights, anger, good news, bad news, relapses (give me grace, God), roller coasters, merry-go-rounds…

But hey, sounds a lot like my résumé, past and present. Thank God He didn’t – and doesn’t – hate me all over social media. I guess I’m saying, He, the Founder of the Church, treats people a lot better than the church does. We can do better. By the mercy of Christ Who fills His Church…we can do better. So let’s.