IF:EQUIP

Jennie Allen, you stole my heart when you said "let's crave God and run our guts out… let's get real…let's get literal" ok maybe she didn't say all of those things, but it's what I heard between the lines. 

Every week day morning I join hundreds of other girls to talk about a few scriptures on Jennie Allen's website. 

IF:EQUIP

Currently we are reading through Acts. Of the New Testament, Acts has always been my favorite book. I believe it's the OCD in me that is drawn to all the clear lines. The order. The very paired down commission given in this book. It answers questions:

What should the church do?

How should the church help?

Who the heck is the church anyway?

Where did Jesus go?

Who in the world is going to help me through this nut house?

Will there be food involved?

What do I do while I wait for Jesus to come back?

The answers are simple and so easy to read, but impossible to do on my own. Outside of God. Outside of community. And I never do them well really even when I get close to living them out at all. 

God's doing something weird in me. I'm getting the church less and less and craving the company of the hurting more. 

Yah. I'm confused, too. 

I've spent more time studying the word and with Jesus than ever before. Family crisis does that to a lot of people. But instead of gaining clarity of how much I love church, I am only recognizing how much we are doing it wrong. More wronger says Larry the Cucumber. 

Today's passage in Acts 4 says the people in the church sold everything including their lands and their houses and brought that money and laid it at the disciples' feet. They gave everything they owned. Sold what they could. Used the money for outreach. For inreach. To help anyone as they had need. 

Anyone. 

As they had need. 

Sold their houses. 

Gave it all away. 

These passages are literal. They didn't metaphorically sell their houses. If you sell your house literally, you have no house. And they didn't use some of the money to buy a smaller house. They didn't have a house. It doesn't clearly say where they lived, but we know they dedicated themselves to the apostles teachings about Jesus and who God is, to worship, to prayer, to food! 

That's it. They sold everything and lived their lives doing four things. 

Listening to God's word

Prayer

Worship

Food

This is my kind of party. This is my kind of church. This is how I like to picture Gatsby's parties. It's what I want in my everyday. 

I run a preschool. It's full of broken people, starting with me. All the way down to broken parents and this broken little clown. 

Well he is pretty great, but one day he will know he is broken. I pray already that he craves God and runs his guts out. 

And this is my mission field. I am only now beginning to grasp the weight of my role. I thought it was just preschool. Educators have this snobbery about preschool, as if it's fake school. But I'm seeing how vital it is. And the academics have little to do with it. 

This morning one of our two year olds is appearing in court. His mom makes bad choices. She showed up yesterday reeking of pot. They both wept when she left in separate cars. Today the courts get to decide if he gets to go back to mom's house. 

Last week, a mom cut me off when I tried to tell her how beautiful her daughter is. I was recapping how well she is doing. This mom does not love being a mom. I don't think she likes it at all really. Mom stopped me mid-sentences and said she needed to get to work. She was offended by my words. 

Two weeks ago a little girl told me her mom hits her. 

Yesterday a little girl wouldn't stop holding my hand. 

A few months ago, a little boy told me he never sees his mom. He goes to school only and he wants to see his mom. Then he got angry and hit me in my face and started kicking me. He was supposed to be napping. I held his feet away from me and told him he was handsome and great. He told me to leave and pushed me. I told him I wasn't going anywhere. I loved him and rubbed his back between kicks. After 45 minutes of this, he sat up and abruptly hugged me and said, "I love you". It was his first day at school. He needed someone in his life that wasn't going to quit. Who didn't have a line he could cross that made him lose their love. He bear hugs me every time he sees me. 

A few weeks ago, we had a mom complain (not quietly) about our hours. She fumed. She cussed. She stormed. She threatened to withdraw. I called her as soon as I got to work. She wept. She confessed that she is at her limit with working and just can't decide if it's worth the money to be away from her kids. The answer for me is an unequivocal "no". Not if this is where her heart is. I encouraged her to take a look at her cost to work, financial and otherwise, and decide from there. 

I want to sell my house and give it to her. Only I don't own a house. I want to bring my money to be her money, so she can stay home with her girls. I want to take that mom and her two year old to lunch and remind her of her amazing qualities. She has them for days. I want to hold that little boy and teach him that even when he feels alone, he has God. I want him to know that the Holy Spirit isn't figurative. 

I want to be New Testament bold. I can't even figure out how except to dedicate myself to these kids and their parents and my staff. None of us is exempt. 

Anything? That Seems Like a Lot

I awoke just now to rain on my window pane. I don't live in Seattle, so it's easy for me to say I love it. It is 3 in the morning, and I have been listening to this Nevada downpour for an hour. That's a big deal here in the desert.

I want to just lie here and soak it in like a sponge, but my mind wanders in a million directions. Some prayers. Some unsettled business. Some reminders of what needs to happen from my to-do list. Some mulling over of the books I just finished.

I want to, but I can't turn of all the thoughts. I am thirsty for water. I am thirsty for more. Of everything.

My husband is not home and I miss my big kids. Two are on a mission trip and one is living life in Southern California with some friends. They will all be home by Friday, but that seems far.

Ten caterpillars are morphing into butterflies in my classroom. Right now. I am worried they will turn before my students can come back to see it.

Teenagers flash through my mind intermittently. I pray for them. You pass through my mind, my friend and reader. I pray a blessing on you. It's ok if we haven't met. It's best if we have, but I pray either way. Be blessed.

I can't find my cards. Over a year ago, I outlined my entire book on twenty index cards. They are my secondary most important resource to writing this book. And I cannot find them. Please say a prayer on that one for me. It's giving me a belly ache.

All of these thoughts, but really I keep circling back to one.

I pray about my future. I think it's changing. There is a need that warrants filling. And God is unsubtly dropping hints. Smooth. Normally, I would say this isn't for me, but the fact that I am so vehemently doubting my ability for God to use me in this space says otherwise. Like Moses.

"You've got the wrong guy. Teenagers?" I say.

"Yes. They like you. You are weird, but relatable." He says.

"But, I am an adult. Aren't I supposed to be scared of teenagers? They can be weird. Oh. Er. I see. But they come with face piercings. Uh. Hmm. I see. But I want to be liked. If I boss them they won't think I am funny anymore." I stammer.

"They don't need a peer. You are WAY too old to be their peer.," he says with a smirk.

"Thanks Lord. That's nice. I feel good now."

I can almost feel his shoulders shake to hide His laughter. He adds, "they need someone who isn't afraid to love them as they are, where they are, and who won't be afraid to tell it to them straight. They don't need bossing. They need Me. They need a leader to sympathize with their problems but hold them accountable to love others more than themselves. Their focus is all wrong. They need someone to give them a little shove because right now they feel like they can't make a difference. But you know better, and I want you to tell them."

"Lord, I don't want to be Moses. I don't want to say 'you have the wrong guy'."

"Then don't," he says simply.

"Ok. Protect my relationship with my own teens. I don't want them to feel like I am butting in. I don't want them to feel like I am invading their space. They are my priority over other kids."

"Just tell them that. Be Frank. He's great."

"Funny. Ok. Use me. I'll do it. Show me what it looks like. Show me how. When. Because I think it's going to start small. As do so many good things. I feel myself jumping the gun heading to the end of rather than the starting point."

"Pray. Just ask. And, hey. Ask each day. Not just once. There's a lot to talk about. If this is the only time we discuss it, you'll miss things. I will show you along the way. In my timing. For I know the plans I have for you. Did you catch that? I KNOW. those are the important words of that sentence. You are saying it wrong. Your emphasis is on the plans instead of me. Be willing. Be here. Everyday. Look for it. Be the part of Moses who did it afraid, but he did it still. Are you willing?"

I should pause and see if it's true, but I just say it, " Anything. Lord, I will do anything. You loved me first. You love me still. You love me when I am a total spaz. I will do it afraid. Anything."

Beginning the first Saturday in May I will be leading a book study on Jennie Allen's book "Anything". We will read a couple chapters each week, and meet back here to discuss what we get out of it.

If you are local, we are meeting at Starbucks on Saturdays at 8:30 each morning. Books are available at your local Christian bookstore or through Amazon.com.

Begin now by asking yourself, "What are you willing to do for God? How big? How scary? How self-sacrificing?" Bring your answer May 4th.
Contact me for further details.