Joy of Worship

There was this girl at Elmbrook, about my age, who sometimes led worship when I was there. Her name was Bethany.

I loved when Bethany led worship because she always had a HUGE smile on her face. A lot of times when Christians sing worship songs we look like we're constipated. But not Bethany. She exuded joy in worship. You could tell even from the balcony that she was thrilled to be worshipping the King of the universe.

Bethany's example changed my own attitude and facial expressions when I worship. Now when I sing songs of praise, I smile as big as Bethany did. Because it is an honor to connect with my amazing God in that way. When I sing about his holiness, it fills me with excitement. I get to have a relationship with a holy God!

"Problem" Children

This week I had a Sunday School training with Karl Bastian, the Kidologist. The topic was discipline, and I was eager to learn. That's one of the hardest things for me as a Sunday School teacher.

I walked out with a lot of great tips. Grace based tips. Which I love, because I'm a big fan of grace. All new ideas I'd never thought of, heard of, or tried before. I'm eager to try this out.

But the thing that struck me the most wasn't so much a tip as it was a perspective. Which was pretty much the perspective that framed all the tips.

You know those "good" kids? You know, the ones who bring you Christmas gifts and say please and thank you and never disrupt class? You probably aren't going to make a difference in their life. Why? Because their lives are already on a good trajectory. They usually come from good homes, homes where parents are doing a wonderful job teaching them about faith and how to live like Jesus. If you weren't in their lives, they'd probably still turn out to be wonderful Christians.

You know those "bad" kids? The ones who interrupt your class with fart noises and start chanting "no more rules!" (the latter actually happened to me last week). The ones who make you want to use duct tape as a disciplinary measure or pull your hair out because you can't? This is your greatest opportunity to make a difference in a kid's life. Not by punishing them or yelling at them. Not by striving to change their behavior. By partnering with them and being their friend and helping them understand what it means to be a Christian. By helping shape their heart and showing them that Jesus loves them—when they probably feel like no adult loves them.

Karl accomplished his goal (at least for me): to make us want those kinds of kids more than we want the "good" kids. Because if I want to make a difference in a kid's life, it's not going to be in the angelic kid's life. It's going to be in the life of an unloveable 5th grade boy that I loved anyway.

Dead Samaritan?

This isn't a new struggle for me, but it's one that has come to light again recently: how do you find the balance between personal safety and what Jesus taught about the Good Samaritan?

See, on Saturday I took a self defense class. The first half of the day was lecture, all about awareness and how to avoid situations where you'd have to use the defensive tactics we learned in the second half of the day. We learned that sometimes, even someone just asking you what time it is can be a "verbal bump" to distract or engage you and set you up for bad things.

So this left me confounded. If I can't even do something as simple as tell people what time it is, how am I supposed to be a good neighbor the way Jesus defines it? Or, should I take the risk and assume they are a good person who genuinely needs the time?

But then what about helping people in more blatantly risky situations? Like if I see someone stranded along the side of the road? Today's sermon was, coincidentally, about the good Samaritan. And my pastors talked about how no one stops to help people on the side of the road because there are hundreds of other people driving by and everyone thinks, "well, one of them will help." But someone has to be the one to stop. Am I immune from that just because I'm a woman?

And what element of this comes down to trusting God for protection? I mean I don't think trust means walking down a dark alley alone at night - that's probably more like testing him. But when it comes to helping someone who might actually need help or might be conning us?

But then at self-defense class we also watched a clip from Silence of the Lambs, based on the real way serial killer Ted Bundy got his victims - putting on a fake cast and pretending to move furniture with a broken arm. A woman would come by to help him and she'd end up on the back end of the furniture, getting into the truck. Clearly in that situation, it's a mistake to help the guy. But how do you know if it's a genuine case of someone needing help?

Now, I help people. I volunteer as a victim's advocate. I'm doing a flood clean-up day next Saturday. But those are planned avenues of helping. What about the times when you just see someone in need right then?

Because the fact of the matter is, the Samaritan didn't walk down that road looking for a robbery victim to help. It wasn't in his plans. He just found one and helped. And it was risky. It was a dangerous road, as evidenced by the band of robbers who'd injured the victim in the first place. And for the priest and Levite who passed by, helping the man would've meant becoming ceremoniously unclean and losing the ability to go to the temple until they went through the cleansing period. There was a cost besides the monetary cost of putting the guy up in an inn. There was risk. And yet the Samaritan took it. And Jesus' implication is that the priest and Levite should've, too.

So...what do you think? Where's the balance? How do you know whether to be an alert woman avoiding becoming a victim, or to be a good Samaritan to someone who genuinely has a need? How do you act as a good Samaritan without ending up a dead Samaritan? I'd love your input.

This Is My Offering

The church I grew up in didn't pass offering plates. Instead, we had boxes in the back of the auditorium and you could drop in your money as you came or left.

I liked this because it enabled more anonymity. You could give more secretly, not wondering if the person to your right or left judged you for letting the plate pass you or thought too highly of you because they saw you slip in a large sum. Plus, I felt like it showed more faith on the part of the church. They didn't need to shove a reminder to give in people's faces. They believed God would sustain the church as people freely gave. (At least, that was my perception.)

And when I read about the collection for the Tabernacle (Exodus 35) in college, it seemed familiar. People just brought what they had and gave it. No one passed a plate for people to drop their jewelry and goat hair into. And, in Exodus 36:5-7, we see that Moses had to tell people to STOP giving, because they'd reached their budget. (I wonder if any churches today would turn away funds if their budgets reached 100% before the end of the year? But I digress...) Obviously this non-compulsory giving campaign was successful even among those who'd just been worshipping a golden calf.

I've never been to another church that collected offering that way. Every church I visited in college (which was many), every church since then, has passed a plate. And there's a part of me that misses the boxes in the back of the room. (They did bring them forward for a prayer of dedication each service, so it wasn't totally separate.)

But, someone at work recently said she likes the passing of the plate during the service because it incorporates giving as an act of worship. It's not separate from the service, it's included because giving is one way we worship God. 

At LifeBridge, we pass a plate. But they always talk about how giving is an act of worship. They don't do it in that kind of way where they make you feel like a wicked rotten person if you don't give anything. They present it as another opportunity to worship God. And I do like thinking of it that way. 

I was raised to give 10% of my earnings from the time I got a $1.00 a week allowance. I remember getting my yearly giving statement saying that I gave $5.20 that year and thinking, "wow, that's a lot of money." (For this reason, I now prefer to give in cash and not in any particular assigned envelope, so that I don't develop a sense of pride for how much I gave. If I had that pride when I was giving $5.20 a year...I'm clearly susceptible to pride in this area.) So I never felt like giving was difficult...it's just the only way I know. I wouldn't say I gave because I felt obligated to. But, I also wouldn't say I considered it an act of worship. I just was obeying God.

So, I think there are pros and cons to both ways. And while I'll always have a part of me that misses the boxes in the back, I've come to realize that no matter how it's collected, when I give I can do so with an attitude of worship.