Month: August 2015

Not Enough Hours in the Day (And Other Rambling Thoughts)…

/ pastorlynnmalone / 1 Comment

clergy burnoutI belong to a private Facebook group for clergy, and one of my colleagues posted a question about work hours to the group. The person pastors a growing church and was concerned about the number of hours worked in a typical week. The person was asking the members of the group to respond with their own typical hours. It made for some interesting responses, and prompted me to consider (or reconsider) “work” hours for myself and others.

First, a disclaimer: I write as one who went through a period of clergy burnout, so my responses may be colored by that fact. Don’t hold it against me, please. Here’s a helpful list of resources dealing with clergy burnout.

The person made the statement that he/she was working 48 – 60 hours per week, and wanted to know from others in the group is this was normal. My response? Uh…YEAH! Especially if the church you pastor is experiencing any growth. Of course, this raises the question of overwork for pastors (keep the lazy preacher jokes to yourself–and also the jokes about only working one day per week).

Here are my thoughts on pastoral work hours, and only a little rationale underlying why I think what I think. Please be gracious with any responses. Pastors have feelings, too!

I begin each week with the expectation that I’m going to “work” 50 hours per week. I also begin each week knowing the week is unpredictable, and there is no legitimate way to know how many hours I may work. I do anticipate that 50 will be the minimum. If there is a funeral or a wedding (or two, or three funerals…), then that number will stretch to nearer 60. This is my own expectation, not one anyone has placed upon me. Actually, if you look in the United Methodist Book of Discipline at the “job description” of a clergy, it would take closer to 90 hours a week, but that’s another discussion. Dr. Thom Rainer found that if you add up all the hours  for the congregational expectations for the various tasks clergy perform in a week, it would total 110 hours per week.

Here’s my rationale for my 50-hour work week. My average congregational member will work a 40-hour week. Then, I (as a pastor) expect the most committed member to offer ministry and participation to the local congregation, and if that most committed member offers 8 hours per week (including worship attendance, Sunday school, bible study, servant leadership, etc.), then that person has “worked” 48 hours per week. Why in the world would I ask any member to do more than I am willing to do myself? Aren’t we to lead by example? A subsequent question I ask is: Where does my “vocation” as a pastor end, and my calling as a “disciple” begin? There is a fine (very fine), gray line between the two.

Here’s a typical week for me:

  • Office hours 20 hours/week
  • Sermon preparation 12 – 20 hours/week (depending upon whether I’ve preached a particular passage before)
  • Hospital visitation 2 hours/week
  • Committee and Administrative meetings 4 hours/week
  • Denominational meetings and expectations 2 hours/week
  • Worship 4 hours/week (yes, leading worship is work! Try it sometime and see!)
  • Bible Study preparation (seasonal) 4 – 12 hours/week (depending on the resources utilized in prepartion)

Yes, I know the list totals more than 50 hours, but not every week includes everything on the list. There are some weeks when there are no denominational meetings or expectations, but then there are weeks when those expectations demand far more than two hours per week. The same with administrative meetings at the church, and also with hospital visitations. Throw in a single funeral, and we can add 6 – 8 hours of additional preparation time.

Please don’t misunderstand me. None of this is complaining! In one regard, I’m trying to figure out how my colleagues in ministry can possibly work less than 40 hours a week, or even limit ministry to 40 hours a week. They must be better at time management than I am! Of course, I’m the first to admit that I’m no good at time management.clergy chill

The real question for me (and this is a matter of boundaries, I suppose) is this: How much of what I do, do I do because I’m a pastor, and how much do I do because I’m a disciple? Therein lies the struggle for me. How much of what I do as a pastor would I do because I’m a disciple first? Yes, I know. There would be no sermon prep nor office hours, but I would be doing office hours somewhere, and I would be putting together projects or making sales calls, or doing whatever my chosen profession expected of me to be successful, so it would all balance out. I just figure if I haven’t invested 50 hours a week I probably haven’t done as much as my most committed member. I should do as much as my most committed member.

One of the great benefits of being a pastor is flexibility in scheduling work. With the exception of Sunday morning and Wednesday evening, we can flex our schedules relatively easily. That is definitely a benefit. This week might demand 60 hours, but next week might demand only 45, and I can greatly influence how I order those 45. There may even be the odd week that offers me the freedom to work less than 40 (those are rare, but they do happen) hours. God usually sends those at just the right time.

None of this is to say that overwork can’t be a problem. We should always observe a Sabbath. Sabbath rest is a biblical principle, and as congregational leaders (and disciples) we should lead by example. Since my burnout in 2008 I have pretty much honored my Sabbath. Yes, sometimes, funerals, special events, and unforeseen circumstances prevent it, but that’s where flexibility of scheduling becomes the benefit. We must take our Sabbath rest…must! The greatest problem many of us clergy have is getting past our own need to be needed. Take the Sabbath rest. The work will still be there when we get back. Perhaps we need the Sabbath rest to wrestle with the question, “Why do I need to be needed?” The greatest lesson I’ve learned as a pastor (a little hyperbole, folks) is that if something happens to me, there’ll be another pastor right behind me to take my place (especially in our United Methodist system of appointment). That’s also a humbling lesson. I’m not indispensable.

There’s much more I could write on this subject, but the simple fact is that I’ve already invested too much time this morning writing this blog, and I didn’t include writing this blog in figuring my hourly work load, so I’ve totally messed up my week. But, is this blog work, or is it discipleship, or is it for fun? I wonder? See how gray the line gets?

Until next time, keep looking up…

Story Matters Here…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

amc-logoThe cable network AMC has a wonderful tag line that says “Story Matters Here.” Shows on the network include Mad Men, The Walking Dead, and one I’ve recently begun to watch, Breaking Bad.

Here’s the premise of Breaking Bad:

Walter White’s story begins with Walter standing in the middle of the New Mexico desert without his pants on. It’s quite dramatic, and the viewer is wondering how in the world he got there. The next scene flashes back to three weeks earlier to tell us how Walter made it to that desert. We learn in the first episode of the first season that Walter is a high school chemistry teacher with a wife, a special needs son, and a baby on the way. He’s lived a rather average life. Living on a teacher’s salary is not always easy, so Walter takes a second job at the local car wash to make ends meet. One day, he begins to struggle with a nagging cough, passes out at his car wash job and ends up at the hospital where a battery of tests are run. The discovery is made that he has terminal cancer. Fearing that he’s made no provision for his family, he turns to making drugs to make fast money. I know, not a great story line for a somewhat Christian blog, but AMC does a masterful job telling Walter’s story. Each episode of the series begins at the end of the story, and then goes back to tell the story.BreakingBad

I can’t think of the tag line “Story Matters Here” without thinking about the Bible. The Bible is God’s story, and there is no greater story in the world, nor is there a story that matters more. The Bible tells some amazing stories, too. The bible tells stories of incredibly normal people who do some pretty incredible things.  Makes me think there’s hope for me yet.

One of the great stories is the story of Joseph.  Let me review it briefly. Joseph story begins in Genesis 37, and is the 11th son of Jacob, the great patriarch of the Hebrew nation, but he’s the first son of Jacob’s treasured wife Rachel, and that makes Joseph very special in his father’s eyes. Not so in the eyes of his 10 older brothers. They see him as the spoiled, tattle tale younger brother. Of course, their father hasn’t helped matters much. He did give Joseph a “coat of many colors” to signify their special relationship with each other. It wasn’t necessarily the coat that sealed the deal for his brothers, but the fact that Joseph had a couple of dreams, and he thought it necessary to share the content of the dreams with his brothers. Long story short—both dreams showed his ten brothers and his father bowing down to him.

The rest of the story goes something like this:

  • Older brothers get mad at Joseph and sell him into slavery.
  • Joseph is taken to Egypt and sold again to Potiphar, a captain in Pharaoh’s palace guard.
  • Joseph excels in Potiphar’s house and becomes chief steward.
  • Potiphar’s wife takes a shine (if you know what I mean?) to Joseph.
  • Joseph resists, and is eventually charged with rape.
  • Joseph is thrown in prison. Languishes in prison for two years.
  • Pharaoh has a dream. Only Joseph is able to interpret the dream. Wins his release from prison.
  • Pharaoh elevates Joseph to Prime Minister in Egypt.
  • Famine hits the region.
  • Joseph’s brothers show up hunting food. They don’t recognize Joseph, but he recognizes them.

So, Joseph decides to have a little fun at their expense.

“You’re a bunch of spies!” he exclaims.

“No, way, my Lord. We’re brothers and honest men (ha! Ha! Ha! Joseph thinks). We just came to buy food.

“No, you’re spies!” he persists.

“No,” his brothers respond. “There are twelve of us. Our youngest brother remains at home with our father, and one brother is no more among us.”

Joseph says, “Prove it to me. One of you go get your younger brother and bring him here. I’ll keep nine of you in prison here (probably the same prison he was imprisoned in—oh, the irony!), while one of you goes back to Canaan to fetch the youngest.”

Joseph has them all put in prison for three days to let them think it over. They lament this is all happening because of what they did to Joseph about 17 years earlier.  A guilty conscience hangs around for a long time. The brothers hadn’t dealt with the guilt of what they had done to Joseph. That’s what guilt does to us. It eats at us until we deal with it in a healthy way. Edgar Allan Poe’s epic short story The Tell-tale Heart reflects the depths to which unresolved guilt can lead us. Poe’s narrator has murdered an old man and hidden his body under the floor boards of his home. The police come, and all the narrator can hear is the beating of the old man’s heart. Louder and louder it grows, ringing only in his ears, until he breaks down and confesses to the police. That’s where Joseph’s brothers find themselves.

The brothers eventually bring not only their younger brother, but their father and all their families to settle in the Egyptian area of Goshen. Joseph reveals himself to them all. They have a grand family reunion, and Jacob and all his progeny flourish under Joseph’s watchful care. Then, Jacob dies.

Returning from the funeral, the brothers fear that Joseph will now take his revenge. Though they’ve been living in Egypt for 17 years, and Joseph has cared for them, the brothers believe the bad blood still exists. Joseph had forgiven them. Seventeen years earlier, the brothers stood before him and he revealed who he was and said, “Don’t worry. God sent me here to save you and many others. Don’t be mad at yourselves for selling me into slavery. It’s all good. It’s a God thing” (Genesis 45 paraphrase). The problem was they couldn’t forgive themselves. Their guilt kept them from receiving the very thing that would reconcile them to Joseph. Guilt kept them from accepting their own forgiveness. Guilt kept them from experiencing grace, and grace is the only thing that can break bad blood.

Forgiveness is a gift that must be both extended and received. Joseph’s story foreshadows the story of Jesus Christ, who came to extend God’s forgiveness to us. Forgiveness is grace, and as such, can never be earned. It is a gift from the heart of God, and it must be a gift from us to others. The situation doesn’t demand it, the world doesn’t expect it, and the guilty don’t deserve it, but we do it anyway. Because that’s what Christ has done for us. But, there is also the matter of receiving the gift of forgiveness. We have to believe we’re really forgiven. Until we come to the point that we accept forgiveness, we’ll run away from that which will give us peace—and that’s our reconciliation to Christ. Rick McCarley tells the story of an attorney, who after studying on several scriptures, decided to cancel the debts of all his clients that owed him money for more than six months. He drafted a letter explaining his decision and its biblical basis and sent 17 debt-canceling letters by certified mail. Sixteen of the seventeen letters were returned, unsigned and undelivered. Why? Because the clients refused to sign for them and open the envelopes. They were afraid the attorney was suing them for their debts. In their fear, they ended up running away from his forgiveness.

May I offer two challenges to consider: First, we need to check our list. What list, you ask? The list we keep with the names of those we have yet to forgive. We all keep one, right? There’s bad blood, and the only thing that will break the bad blood is forgiveness. Joseph didn’t keep a list. He let it go because he saw God working even in the bad parts of life, and that takes grace. What list needs offering to the Lord? Who do we need to go to and offer our forgiveness?

Second, we need to accept forgiveness. Some of us need to accept the fact that God has forgiven us in Jesus Christ, and others need to accept the forgiveness that someone else has attempted to extend, but for whatever reason, whether we can’t forgive ourselves, or we can’t get past the pain, we’ve not accepted the gift that’s been offered. So, the bad blood festers, and it will eventually destroy us. Is it so hard to believe that God loves us unconditionally? For 17 years, Joseph’s brothers couldn’t believe they’d been forgiven. How long have you been holding out accepting your own acceptance?

Joseph’s is a compelling story…and…story matters here. Mine matters…and…your’s matters. May both our stories be a story of forgiveness…both receiving and extending.

Until next time, keep looking up…

The Value in Growing Smaller…

/ pastorlynnmalone / 2 Comments

A phrase kept going through my mind: Reduction is a strategic endeavor. Like a song gets stuck in your head, I simply could not put those words out of my mind. I finally got up at 3:30 a.m., and wrote them down.

tape measureAt first, the phrase didn’t make sense to me, especially in light of the fact that I’m supposed to be “growing” a church. That was my first connection to the phrase, but for some reason, that left too much undefined. So, what did I do? I went to Facebook (isn’t that what we always do these days?). I posted the phrase with two companion sentences: Reduction is a strategic endeavor. Some things must grow smaller before growing larger. Some things get better by being smaller. I asked for comments. Yes, I got quite a few (and no, there were no snide comments about reducing my waistline), but they all helped bring some clarity to the idea that “reduction is a strategic endeavor.”

Here’s what I’m thinking:

It’s a personal statement about de-cluttering one’s life. We must be strategic in eliminating the right things from our life to make margin for those endeavors that are fruitful and beneficial to helping us live healthy lives. There are a lot of things with which we can occupy our time. Most of them are good things, but not all of them are the best ways for us to grow as healthy persons and disciples. We must be strategic in eliminating the distractions, and focus on the things that matter most.

Okay, so it’s also personal, and can refer to my waistline. If we want to lose weight (and I can’t think of many people who don’t want to lose weight), we must develop a healthy strategy of exercise and diet. Without a strategy (and subsequent implementation) we’ll never take the first step in doing the necessary things to accomplish the goal. I might add, this is purely self-referential. I’m not casting a dispersion on anyone else and their waistline. Developing a strategy for healthy weight loss allows us to plan our work and then work our plan.

As I reflect, I understand that “reduction is a strategic endeavor” is also an intensely spiritual statement. I am reminded of John the Baptist’s words in John 3:30, “He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less.” It is a statement about humility. We must be strategic in living lives of humility so that our mind becomes the mind of Christ. What are those things that keep me from humbling myself before Him? Is it my pride? How do I deal with that issue? Is it my arrogance? How do I deal with that? Is it my self-centeredness? How must I deal this that? Is it my laziness? Is it the fact that I rather enjoy having my own way? There are so many questions I ask myself that I’ve only begun to scratch the surface of what it means to become less and less that He might become greater and greater. More than identifying them, how do I develop a strategy for dealing with them. Come Holy Spirit!

I discover the statement is also a professional statement. As I ponder this aspect of “reduction is a strategic endeavor,” I consider the “busy-ness” of many churches. We are busy with activity, but is the activity fruitful. Activities become the “end” for many churches rather than the “means.” We end up doing activity for activities sake, and that only serves to make the church more insular and stifles involvement in the community (where the people who need Jesus hang out). Thom Rainer did a great podcast on the subject recently, and made some very salient points:

  1. Activity is not biblical purpose.
  2. Busyness can take us away from connecting with other believers and non-believers.
  3. An activity-driven church often is not strategic in its ministries.
  4. A congregation that is too busy can hurt families.
  5. An activity-driven church often has no presence in the community.
  6. Activity-driven churches tend to have “siloed” ministries.
  7. Churches that focus on activities tend to practice poor stewardship.

As the body of Christ, we must be strategic in eliminating every activity that does not specifically address the mission of reaching others with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We will probably get into some touchy areas, but without a strategy, we will continue to be busy, but not rather effective. What a shame!

I also reflected on “reduction is a strategic endeavor” for the church as a whole. It sounds counter-intuitive to us as we see “mega-churches” (and now, “giga-churches”) growing by leaps and bounds, and we know that growth is good, especially when others accept Christ as Lord and Savior. But, I was given pause as I considered the words of John 6:66, “At this point, many of his disciples turned away and deserted him.” Sometimes, discipleship is simply too hard. It’s easier to turn away from the challenges of being a disciple, and one reason the western church may be (and I’m only speculating here) in the state of decline is because we’ve had a lot of “cultural Christians”–those who were part of the body of Christ for the benefits that came from a religious affiliation. Perhaps (and again, I’m speculating) persecution is the Lord’s strategy for winnowing out His church.

Finally, there is another consideration on the phrase “reduction is a strategic endeavor” that I’ve pondered. It stems from my time as a District Superintendent in the United Methodist Church. It’s painful, but it’s true, and I hesitate to even mention it here, but I feel compelled. There are many congregations in the UM Church that lack effectiveness (for a number of reasons). Those small congregations draw resources, energy and attention away from the mission of “making disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world.” Is it a matter of stewardship to develop a strategy for dealing with those congregations, for developing a strategy for reducing the number of congregations that are not achieving the mission? That’s a challenging thought, and one for which I will receive much push back, but shouldn’t someone be asking the question?

There are probably many other considerations I should make, but that’s about where I am this morning. And, now, you know what I’m thinking (as though you even cared!).

Until next time, keep looking up…

Unpacking Crazy Faith…

/ pastorlynnmalone / 2 Comments

What is “crazy faith”? For me, it means many things. One, it means trusting God in the midst of the craziness that can sometimes be my life. For another, it means believing the crazy idea that God would be born in human flesh,  be born as a baby, grow up as a man, be crucified for the sins of the world, and three days later rise up from the grave. For yet another, it means believing that Jesus would forgive me, and offer me the opportunity to be reconciled to my heavenly Father. And, for yet another, it means believing that God could, would and desires to use me in the building of His Kingdom. Now, that’s crazy, I tell you. Pure crazy!crazy faith

I hope I have a crazy faith. I want desperately to believe that He can use me, that He does use me, even when I can’t (or don’t) see it. In my last blog, I listed five characteristics of “crazy faith.” There is nothing scientific about the characteristics. They’re just things I’ve discovered in my own life as I’ve attempted to live the life of faith.

1. Crazy faith doesn’t have God in a box.

If I’ve learned nothing else in my life, I’ve learned that just about the time I have God figured out, I don’t. Think back to the Garden of Eden. The first temptation the serpent offered to Adam and Eve was the temptation to “be like God, knowing everything.” Guess what? That temptation is still with us today. We like to nail everything down, put everything into neat little boxes. That way we can control every situation. The quest for knowledge is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. After all, it was God who gave humanity the directive to till the soil, and to name the animals. God was laying the foundation for the scientific enterprise, and the exploration of His creation helps us to fulfill the task appointed to us by God Himself.

But the great mistake we make is to make God a part of His creation. God is not a part of the creation. God is wholly other, and therefore, God can never be the subject of scientific investigation. God is not some riddle or mind puzzle that can be solved with enough thought and reflection. God is a mystery, and mystery that is solved ceases to be a mystery. God is a mystery to be adored rather than a riddle to be explained. All we can ever know about God is what God chooses to reveal to us. Beyond that, God will always remain a mystery. As long as God is in our box, we’ll not see the miracles He does on a daily basis. We’ll also not see His power revealed in our lives. With God in a box, we’ll never have “crazy faith.”

2. Crazy faith doesn’t always follow the rules.

If you’re like me, you grew up thinking following Christ was about keeping rules. Don’t do this…do that! You know, like go to church every Sunday, read my Bible every day, pray, don’t work on Sunday (or in those days, play ball on Sunday, or go fishing on Sunday, or…). I knew others who thought being a disciple meant wearing your hair a certain way, or not wearing a certain type of clothing. For still others, it meant no smoking, no drinking, or no (well, you fill in the blank). And, no, I’m not advocating for drinking or smoking. I’m just saying I came to see discipleship as a list of rules to keep, as though I could check them off my list (both do’s and don’ts) and everything would be okay.

I’ve discovered that Jesus came to change the rules. As a matter of fact, he spent three years in ministry to do just that. We know Jesus healed on the Sabbath (see Mark 3:1-6), and we know it was Jesus who criticized the scribes and Pharisees for their being so rule-bound they were actually keeping people from discovering the Kingdom (see Luke 11:37-54). I also remember Jesus telling a bunch of Pharisees that it’s not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth (i.e., blessings and cursings–see Matthew 15:1-20).

Okay, so I don’t know so much that Jesus changed the rules, but he sure offered some clarity in interpreting them. The greatest rule…the most important rule…is the rule of love. Love God and love others. Oh, and another thing I’ve discovered: Love doesn’t always look like or act like I think it should. All I have to do is look at the cross to prove that point. Any questions? Refer back to characteristic number one!

3. Crazy faith isn’t shackled by the fear of failure.

The greatest failure in life is the failure to try. I’ve told my congregations many times that I’m not afraid the fail, I’m afraid not to try. We hosted the Global Leadership Summit from Willow Creek Community Church, and the most compelling thing I heard was from Craig Groeschel, who said, “If we want to reach people no one else is reaching, we have to do things no one else is doing.” We have to risk failure to see God do miracles in our midst. We have to risk getting out of our comfort zone to reach others with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We must risk rejection. We must risk resources. We must risk failure. If we’re unwilling to risk it all, we really don’t have “crazy faith.”

4. Crazy faith believes it’s easier to ask forgiveness than it is to ask permission.

See #3 above.

5. Crazy faith is driven by passion, not success.

Crazy faith is passionate about following Jesus. Crazy faith is also about wanting to see others come to experience the depth of love and abundant grace that only comes in a relationship with Jesus Christ. What is passion? Someone once said that passionate is just one step short of crazy. I say, maybe it’s all the way! Passion is what drives us. Passion means we do what we do because we love doing it, not because there’s a monetary reward waiting at the other end. I’m passionate about preaching. I love to preach. It’s why I get out of bed every morning. It’s why I do what I do. It’s why I endure the challenges of vocational ministry. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t preach. I’m crazy about preaching. I’ve always believed there are two types of preachers in the world: Those who can’t do ANYTHING else, and those who CAN’T do anything else. I hope I’m in the second category (think about it a minute–you’ll get it!).

In the same way, to have crazy faith means we have to be passionate about being Christ-like. We simply CAN’T do anything else–we can’t find meaning, we can’t find purpose, we can’t find rest–but pursue Him in ways that transform us, and ultimately transform the world. Yes, it makes us a bit crazy!

So, there you have my understanding of what it means to possess a “crazy faith.” They may not mean much to you, and if so, you can simply call me crazy. It’s a label I’ll gladly wear.

Until next time, keep looking up…

 

This “Crazy” Life (Or, 5 Characteristics of Crazy Faith)…

/ pastorlynnmalone / 1 Comment

What do you do when life gets crazy? When you are worn out, tired, discouraged, when things have not gone well, when you are, if not at the end of your rope, pretty close to the end – what do you do? What do I do? I eat! I am a stress eater. Sometimes it is somethings sweet. Other times it is a salty, full of comforting carbs snack – but when I’m at the edge or walking into the house at the end of long day I want food – whether I am hungry or not. I just want to eat, to fill myself up with something that will keep me from having to deal with the emptiness stress often causes. Yes, I walk into the house and say to Vanessa, “Let’s go get something to eat!”crazy faith

I confess to you my way of dealing with stress, not so you will tell me, “You don’t have to worry about your weight, Pastor,” but so you will think about what you do. Some people smoke, others drink or even take drugs, people zone out in front of a computer, or stay so busy they don’t have to think about it or go into denial mode, pretending it is okay when it really isn’t! Life gets crazy for all of us, and when we experience emptiness, or feel drained or overwhelmed, the temptation is to fill ourselves up with things that we think will bring us comfort. Many times they do, but often it is only a temporary fix or escape. May I offer an invitation to fill ourselves up with what truly comforts, not just as a temporary fix, but in a way that brings us a new lease on life. It is an invitation to fill ourselves up with God because it is the Lord who answers us and delivers us from all our fears, who hears us and saves us when life gets crazy.

Life was crazy for David…literally! Psalm 34 is a tangible testimony to David’s crazy life. Here’s the context of the psalm: David was running from King Saul. As a young man, he had been pulled from his father’s pastures and anointed as King of Israel. The only problem with that scenario was Saul was still king. David, through his great gift of music, and the ingenuity he employed to defeat the giant Goliath, eventually made it into King Saul’s court, and the Bible says that when David played music, it soothed the soul of King Saul, who battled his own mental instability. Long story short. Saul became jealous of David, and in a couple of fits of jealousy, tried to kill David. David had to run for his life. The first stop on his journey was in Philistia, which is the home of the Philistines. You remember the Philistines? Yeah, Goliath was a Philistine. These are David’s archenemies. David’s crazy life just got crazier. David arrives in Gath and encounters King Achish. Some of the king’s servants tell Achish, “Hey, this is David from Israel. Haven’t you heard they wrote a song about him? Goes like this: ‘Saul has killed his thousands, but David his ten thousands’.” So, David, on the run from one crazy king, and in the presence of his enemy, gets afraid. Makes sense to me. What does David do? Decides to mimic the behavior he’s seen in Saul. 1 Samuel 21:13 says David changed his behavior and “pretended to be insane.” Achish said, “Don’t I have enough of my own madmen? I don’t need one from Israel. Get him out of here.” And, David was sent packing, delivered from the hand of his enemies. Pretty crazy, huh?

It would be real easy for me to say the lesson for us is “When life gets crazy, get crazy with it,” but I don’t think that’s what David experienced. After all, he only pretended to be insane. Instead, I think the lesson is “Though people think we’re crazy, we’re still going to praise God!” That’s the message of David’s song. To the world, the life of faith can seem pretty crazy.

 

Crazy faith actually speaks and acts in a way that reflects the freedom God gives us, that reflects our trust in God so that we can actually become people who do good rather than evil—so that we can actually survive the craziness of this life. We don’t break the bad habits in our lives by simply sitting down and wishing them away. We break the bad habits by changing our behavior, by reaching for a carrot instead of catfish, by walking out of the store without buying the latest fashion and instead tithing to help do good, by turning off the television or computer and reading Scripture and then talking to God in prayer, or actually being quiet to hear God speak back. Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?

Perhaps if we trusted the Lord to fill us up when we were tired, exhausted, discouraged, we would discover the energy and power of God’s spirit, and actually be able to do more – not just to keep busy, but to change the world so that others could rejoice in God because they have experienced being rescued, they have experienced being heard, they have experienced being fed.

We live in a world where we are bombarded with advertisements and invitations to fill ourselves, to fill our lives with all kinds of stuff, believing these things, this “whatever” will make me truly happy. But we also live in a world which depletes us, making us wonder if we are successful or valuable. It takes crazy faith to sing praise when we can’t make sense of our lives. It takes crazy faith to trust when the world is caving in on us. It takes crazy faith to believe that God will provide all we need when it feels like we need it all. It takes crazy faith to hear the voice of God in the midst of all things that clamor for our attention and that drain us of our energy. David had crazy faith. He believed God even when his life was crazy.

Don’t think because your life is crazy that God can’t use you. Look at how he used David’s crazy life. God’s been using crazy for a long time. God uses crazy when crazy is all he’s got. It’s crazy that God used a murderer named Moses to deliver his people from Egyptian bondage. It’s crazy that God used a donkey to speak to Balaam. It’s crazy that God would use a Pharisee named Paul to change the world. It’s crazy that God would take a man named Peter, who denied Jesus not once, not twice, but three times, and use him as the first leader of his church.

It takes crazy faith to believe that God would put on human flesh, be born as a baby, grow up as a man, be crucified for the sins of the world, and three days later rise up from the grave. The world says that’s crazy! What’s even crazier is that God offers through His Son, Jesus, the opportunity for us to be reconciled to Him, simply by believing. I don’t have to jump through a bunch of hoops. I don’t have to do so many sacrifices. I don’t even have to pray a prayer in a particular way. All I have to do is accept and believe, and that’s crazy. It’s crazy, but it’s true. I know this sounds crazy, but God wants to use you…you with your life going crazy…you with your brokenness…you with your doubt…you with your confusion…you with your hunger. He wants to use you. He wants to use me, and I can tell you, that’s crazy, but when crazy is all he’s got, that’s what he’ll use.

Let me leave with five characteristics of “crazy faith”:

  1. Crazy faith doesn’t have God in a box.
  2. Crazy faith doesn’t always follow the “rules.”
  3. Crazy faith isn’t shackled by the fear of failure.
  4. Crazy faith believes it’s easier to ask forgiveness than it is to ask permission.
  5. Crazy faith is driven by passion, not success.

Perhaps I’ll unpack those in my next blog.

Until next time, keep looking up…

When Fast is Fast Enough (or, Eight Lessons from a Facebook Fast)…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

There will be a bit of irony in this post. I can’t help that (well, I guess I could help it, but then I wouldn’t write this post and you wouldn’t have this post to read–not that you’re going to read it, but…). It’s ironic that I’m using social media to share lessons learned while on a social media fast, but this is the 21st Century, so what’ s a guy to do?

facebookfast2I did a twenty-six day Facebook fast in July. Why twenty-six days, you ask? I originally planned for the entire month of July, but then I realized that my wife was going on the youth mission trip and would be posting photos and updates on the trip and I wanted to keep up with the group and with her, so I broke the fast on the 26th of July. There are a few lessons I learned about social media, Facebook and myself during those twenty-six days. I thought I would share those this morning. The lessons I learned are:

  1. I missed Facebook for, oh, about one day. I learned I didn’t really miss it at all. The longer I got into the fast the less I thought about logging on to check my newsfeed, or other people’s status updates.
  2. I learned that Facebook was limiting my creativity. My productivity soared during those twenty-six days. I wasn’t constantly checking updates.
  3. I learned that Facebook was hindering my spirituality. I spent more time in the Bible early in the morning instead of scrolling through the newsfeed to see what I missed overnight–like why would I even care what happened?
  4. I learned that people are not nearly as interested in my life as I think they are. A Facebook fast can be very humbling! Not once in the twenty-six days did anyone ask me about my latest status.
  5. I learned that I don’t need to share with the world every thought that comes into my head. I had a tendency to share random thoughts posted as status updates on my “wall.” Most of those random thoughts are probably more suited to Twitter, but I just don’t use Twitter that much. Actually, I discovered that I didn’t really miss other people’s random thoughts. It dawned on me–why would other people miss my random thoughts (outside my mother and my wife, perhaps).
  6. I learned I wasn’t as angry all the time. A huge percentage of what people post is negative and divisive. It’s impossible to filter everything, and as I scrolled I couldn’t help but catch a headline denouncing “conservative” Christians, or “progressive” Christians, or the President, or the “Republicans,” or whom or whatever. Scrolling my Facebook newsfeed, I was always angry, that’s just not very Christ-like, and for as much as I fall short, I sincerely want to be more Christ-like. Oh, my…and the comments! People can be down-right mean. I didn’t miss many of the comments, at all!
  7. I learned I wasn’t offended all the time. In tandem with number six, there are a lot of offensive posts on Facebook. The most offensive thing is stupidity, and there is much that is stupid posted on Facebook (confession: I’ve even posted stupid things before).
  8. I learned that “real” life is in the real world. I was much more deeply engaged with the people around me instead of the people in the device in my hand or on my desk. I now wonder how much “real” life I actually missed by being logged on so much previously. After all, we know people post on Facebook mostly those things that make them look good (excluding, of course the occasional drama king or queen who insists on posting the latest sad tale of their life–yes, Facebook can become very narcissistic!), so what I was seeing wasn’t “real” life, at all.

Here are a few tips that I am employing as I re-engage with Facebook and other social media (though, I’m not greatly connected outside Facebook). Maybe they’ll help you if you’re feeling the need to be a little less connected.

  • Remove the Facebook app (or Twitter, or Instagram, or Pinterest, or Vine, or…whatever your social media of choice is) from your smartphone. And, log out from your social media accounts when you’re done. If you must access social media, access it through your browser app. I discovered the longer it takes to log in to something, the less I’m likely to do it.
  • Do not stay logged in to Facebook while you’re working. It’ll be a distraction from the work in front of you.
  • Turn off your push notifications. You don’t need to know every time someone tags you in a photo, or mentions your name in a status update.
  • Calendar your time to be on social media. I’ve discovered if I put something on my calendar, I generally abide by the calendar. Social media isn’t a bad thing, so it’s not to be avoided at all costs. Simply be intentional about the time spent on social media. If you want 30 minutes a day, okay. Calendar 30 minutes a day. Then, stick to it.

Let me encourage you to un-plug, even if it’s only for a day or two. Seriously, it will deepen your spiritual life if the first thing you pick up in the morning is a Bible instead of a smartphone or tablet. Maybe this post was helpful. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, you can check it out on Facebook or Twitter, and that’s quite ironic, isn’t it?

Until next time, keep looking up…