Across Church Street
When Christians don’t hold the line
If you interact with humans, plan to give them a margin of grace. They’ll need it sometimes.
I run most mornings. It's usually dark outside and, even though I wear a bright reflective vest, there's always someone who nearly runs me over. I assume they're still asleep.
Today I waited to run until the sun was up. Along the way, a teenager passed within inches of me on a bike. I know she saw me; she looked right at me. She held a perfectly straight line and I did too—so we didn't crash.
But there have been mornings when I've tripped, even fallen down. I'd have felt better if the biker had given me a little more margin.
It's something I need to remember in my relationships with others. Sometimes they may be asleep—not focusing at the moment on Christ and his kingdom. Others may have too much confidence in their ability—and mine—to hold a straight line. If one of us swerves, we're going to crash.
It's better to anticipate error and provide a bigger margin of grace.
A big step across a small stream
The deepest part of a valley often comes with a stream. Be refreshed there, then step across and you’ll be moving out of that valley.
I learn so much about God through others' stories. All the time I know of several people navigating valleys. Deep dark gorges really. The way down is blind. No way to know where bottom is—or even what the next step will bring. Just an unfamiliar wilderness. "Will I stumble? What was that noise?"
Eventually they come to a small stream.
They step across.
And everything changes.
Still just as deep in the valley, the way forward is up and out. There's a hint of light at the rim that draws them. Fear and exhaustion give way to hope.
Lord, when I face my next valley, let me remember that there is a bottom—that you are the Stream found there just as you are the Light at the rim. And let me be an encouragement to others when they face their own valleys. You've been through each one before and you're there now. I know because I've been through some valleys too.
Teach my sheep
Feeding the sheep should be more about care than academic instruction.
“Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.””
People will say: "Your job is to feed the sheep." Or, "I'm not being fed here." Knowing what they mean, an image forms in my mind—hundreds of woolly creatures, sitting in rows or circles, being taught by a shepherd about eschatology. Baa.
The Greek word translated 'feed' means tend, keep, and pasture. Jesus' request of Peter has more to do with care than it does instruction. Yes, to live well, sheep—and people—do need to learn a few things: mainly to trust the Shepherd, to know His voice, and not to stray. But the Christian's life is much more about relationship than academic knowledge. We need to be tended. Cared for.
People's criticism may be valid—just often not in the way they mean it.
- friendship
- beauty
- thankful
- attunement
- communion
- discipline
- video
- hope
- hania rani
- holiness
- serving
- seth godin
- dean sherman
- across
- covenant
- music
- eternal life
- justice
- embodiment
- wonder
- gracious
- hesed
- welcome
- poetry
- rest
- image
- brokenness
- disruption
- invitation
- companion mode
- resonance
- steadfast
- observer mode
- framework
- pastoral
- oneness
- caritas
- difference
- shalom
- john stott
- worship
- status
- care
- love
I practice the spiritual discipline of rescuing earthworms on paved surfaces. It's a reminder to me that I can pause what I'm doing, get a little dirty, and help. Also, that I've been given the responsibility to care.