Evangelism and the Single Girl

I stink at evangelism. Really. I can't remember the last time I shared the Gospel, or even had a spiritual conversation, with an unbeliever who wasn't a) related to me and under age ten or b) my student. No, I can, it was probably with one of my neighbors in the apartment complex I lived in two and a half years ago. The only reason I knew my downstairs neighbor, Jasmine, is because she liked to listen to hip-hop while studying at 1 a.m., and the only reason I knew my across-the-hall neighbor is because he was completely insane, not unlike several of the other people who lived there. I don't think I ever told you about the time that one of the downstairs residents kidnapped (catnapped?) my next-door neighbor's cat and refused to return it.

Anyway, I digress.

I live by myself in my condo, which I totally love about 75% of the time, particularly when I don't feel like cleaning. The other 25% of the time, I feel either like a cloistered nun (who, uh, is on Facebook) or a weird recluse. Good thing I don't have any cats. I've met a few of my neighbors, and they're nice people, but I haven't felt comfortable going door-to-door and introducing myself or trying to form relationships with them. And herein lies my problem.

I totally believe that God has put me in this place for this time. It's not an accident that I live here, or that I have the neighbors I have. But what's a single girl to do? This is a pretty good-size metropolitan area I live in, and while it's quite a safe neighborhood, you just never know. I honestly don't feel right about going out by myself to knock on doors -- apart from the safety issues, what do you do with the propriety issues that arise, like finding yourself on the front steps of a house full of college-age boys? But how else besides meeting my neighbors am I supposed to even be in contact with adult non-Christians?

It's a very angsty issue for me, really. I want to be wise and safe, but I must be obedient.

I don't have any concluding thoughts, because I haven't concluded my thinking on this subject. If anyone has any suggestions, insights, or practical considerations, I'm all ears. Or whatever the online equivalent of ears is.

The Best Sermon I've Ever Heard Driscoll Preach

Some of you might know about the latest sermon series at Mars Hill Church, nine sermons in response to the top nine questions on Mark's "Ask Anything" website. Timmy Brister, who is a blog acquaintance, asked a question about the Regulative Principle of Worship, and, through his constant efforts at defending the importance of the question, it rose to number one at the last minute! This week was the last sermon in the series, and so addressed the number one question.

I watched two of the other sermons, and found them to be outstanding (especially the dating one, which I would seriously like my pastor to require for every single man at Sojourn), but this one was exceptional, not just because of the content of the sermon (though that was great!). The last fifteen minutes, I think, are a turning point in Mark's ministry. This past week, during the Acts 29 pastor's conference, both John Piper and C.J. Mahaney sat down with Driscoll, separately, and gave him encouragement and rebuke about some issues with his ministry and his character. Driscoll repented and asked for forgiveness from the pulpit for some of those very issues.

I strongly encourage you to check it out here, and then let me know what you thought.

...even though for a time it may appear very small, as though it were snuffed out...

We believe and confess one universal church— a holy congregation and gathering of true Christian believers, awaiting their entire salvation in Jesus Christ, being washed by his blood and sanctified and sealed by the Holy Spirit. This church has existed from the beginning of the world and will last until the end, as appears from the fact that Christ is eternal King who cannot be without subjects. And this holy church is preserved by God against the rage of the whole world, even though for a time it may appear very small, as though it were snuffed out. For example, during the very dangerous time of Ahab the Lord preserved for himself seven thousand men who did not bend their knees to Baal. And so this holy church is not confined, bound, or limited to a certain place or certain persons. But it is spread and dispersed throughout the entire world, though still joined and united in heart and will, in one and the same Spirit, by the power of faith.

—from Belgic Confession, Art. 27

The Chief of Sinners

Dave Harvey, author of the acclaimed book, When Sinners Say "I DO," gives this beautiful perspective on the sinfulness of our hearts, in a July 2007 interview with Discerning Reader.

I actually borrowed [this phrase] from the apostle Paul in his words to Timothy (1 Timothy 1:15). But it applies to all of us. Yes, really.

Paul didn’t say ‘I was.’ He said ‘I am’—the ‘present-tense’ apostle Paul saw himself as the chief of sinners. [...] And I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that he knew he was capable—given the right circumstances—of the worst of sins and the vilest of motives. Paul was a realist. He wanted to see God and himself truly. No hiding behind a facade of pleasantness or religiosity for him. It’s almost as if Paul is saying, “Look, I know my sin. And what I’ve seen in my own heart is darker and more awful; it’s more proud, selfish, and self-exalting; and it’s more consistently and regularly in rebellion against You than anything I have glimpsed in the heart of anyone else. As far as I can see, the biggest sinner I know is me.”

But in the very next verse Paul says, “But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life.”

With the passing of each day, two things grew larger for Paul: his sinfulness in light of the holiness of God, and God’s mercy in the face of it. Knowing both God and himself accurately was not at all discouraging or depressing. Rather, it deepened his gratitude for the vastness of God’s mercy in redeeming him, and the patience of Christ in continuing to love and identify with him in his daily struggle against sin.

Paul’s confession to Timothy presents us with a stunning example of moral honesty and theological maturity: Paul’s acute, even painful awareness of his own sinfulness caused him to magnify the glory of the Savior!

As I’ve studied Paul’s example, I’ve found it to be true in my own life as well.

(ht: Pure Church)

Solitude (Or, "Wow, I'm really being honest to the point of over-sharing today.")

I read a beautiful article on the art of solitude yesterday, and was reminded of the sweet hours I once spent sitting on the porch of the conference center of the camp I attended, tea steaming, swallows dancing on the dawn-gray air, Bible open on my lap. Mornings in a cabin full of girls were not peaceful, nor conducive to my patience or joy as their cabin leader, so I would rise in the dark, get ready quietly, and wake the most responsible girl in the cabin before I headed out the door and over the hill. The woods were just waking up as I walked to the conference center, the light changing to pink as I sipped my tea and looked out over the field and the pond and the distant mountains.

The mornings are cold in the Rockies, even in midsummer. Many days, I could see my breath coming in short puffs as I hiked up the steep hill from Cabin 5, the crunch of my shoes on the gravel road the only sound to be heard. The dew that fell occasionally when the temperature dropped into the 40s encouraged the mule deer out into the thickets of tall grass and brambles that marked the edge of the hill down to the pond. Early summer meant fawns, still spotted and tenuous, staying close to their serene, unhurried mothers; the adults were used to seeing us, and only ran if we hurried close to them.

Those mornings, I practiced solitude out of necessity, and loved each quiet moment with the Lord in the chill morning air. Now, too often, I fear it. I fear the silence of my room. I fear my upcoming 26th birthday -- an acute reminder of just how many evenings I have spent alone, and how many more I fear will be spent alone. I have failed to differentiate between solitude and loneliness. Pray for me, friends, as I work out what it means to be still in the presence of God, to think His thoughts after Him in the quiet of the end of the day.

Sorry, sorry...

It's been such a long time since I posted anything of substance. I could cite work-busyness, dad being in town this week, community group and gospel classes starting back up but it's really all an excuse.

I have been pondering the (infant vs. believer's) baptism issue for a week or so, ever since several of us (including the thoughtful and brilliant Jamie Barnes, my favorite musician of all time) debated it this past Sunday, but I don't know if I'll write anything about it NOW. NOW it'll just look like I'm trying to ride Craig's coattails, dagnabbit!

While I make up my mind, head over to Mike's blog and pray for people to be generous in their support of his ministry. Or better yet, send him some money!

A Long Road to Recovery: the Wounds of a Friend

Two of my friends were recently in a car accident. They both lived to tell about it, but the car is totaled, and they both will have to spend quite a while getting better. One friend, especially, is now looking forward to weeks, maybe even months, of physical therapy to get her spine back in alignment. It's going to hurt. A lot. And, since it's her spine that was most affected, there are a lot of things she won't be able to do until she's completely healed -- things that wouldn't be a problem ordinarily.

That got me thinking.

I'm a sinner, "wrecked" by sin, if you'll pardon the bad pun, "lost and ruined by the Fall," as the song goes. I know from experience that if my back goes out, or I sleep the wrong way on my neck, or get too tense, my whole body feels it -- not just the parts that are directly involved, but everywhere, and the longer it goes on unaddressed, the worse it gets. The same is true of our sin: even something that seems small and insignificant can start to take over our lives.

A couple of months ago, two of my dear community group sisters saw one of those kinds of sin in me. As I stood in front of them crying, they lovingly and gently called the sins of my heart to my attention. They showed me where I was deceived, where I was sinning, where I had erected idols, and they pointed me to the truth. They humbly admitted their own similar failings and told me of the Lord's work in their lives as they had submitted to His correction.

It hurt.

But, thanks only to the grace of God in restraining me, I kept my big mouth shut. What I wanted when I poured my heart out to these wonderful, compassionate women was a band-aid. I wanted them to say, "Oh, there there, it's all right, you're just so sweet and we can't understand why something like this would be happening! Shame on those other people!" I wanted them to pat my shoulder and give me comfort, not point out my sin! But Proverbs 27:6 says, "Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but deceitful are the kisses of an enemy."

My friend's physical therapy is going to take a long time. But wouldn't it be foolish of her not to go through with it simply because she knows it's going to be unpleasant? The fact is, she's already injured, and she'll take the only wise course of action over the next few months as she recovers -- she'll obey the instructions of her doctors and keep working at it, no matter how difficult or interminable it seems.

And that's true for us as well. We've already lived with the grave and deadly injury of sin, but God by His grace has placed us in a community founded on the Healer, Christ, and imbued with the Holy Spirit, that great diagnostician. And when a believing friend loves us enough to obey God's command that we "exhort one another every day, as long as it is still called today, that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin" (Hebrews 3:13), shouldn't we humbly listen to their exhortation, before it's too late -- before our hearts are hardened?