Playing the Waiting Game (AKA, Waiting is the Hardest Part)

Jess: I'm stressed out. There, I said it, and the first step to recovery is admitting the problem, right? Wes and I are moving three months from today and we know nothing. Nothing about what area we'll be in, nothing about what churches we'll be serving, nothing about whether one of us will have an available parsonage, nothing about whether we'll be close enough to one another to share a car, nothing about how much either one of us will or won't get paid.

Okay, I take that back. We know a few things. We know that Wes is going to have a job, and I know that's more than a lot of people in this country. We know that, one way or another, I'll have an internship. It may not be paid, and it may not be the perfect fit, but it will (most) definitely happen. We know that we'll be in Texas, the place we've been longing to return to since about 5 seconds after we left. And we know that we're going to be together as a family, doing the ministry we have been called to do.

Leaving things in God's hands has never been my strong suit. I spent years running away from a call to ministry because it was NOT WHAT I WANTED TO DO! Thank goodness I listened to the call before getting swallowed up by a big fish or tossed into the sea or some other traumatic event. But throughout this process, I have continued to struggle with "letting go and letting God." I've always been a planner--I like to know what is going to happen and when. I write my entire semester's worth of homework in my calendar the day I get my syllabus, and I already know that the first two weeks of March are going to be challenging as far as assignments go. Yet here I am, entering a vocation in which I am supposed to hand over the authority to God.

It's not as if it would technically be any different if I had been called to be a teacher, a singer, a writer, etc. Everything is God's and we are called to hand over our lives to God. We say so in the Lord's Prayer: "YOUR will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." That means, "help me to give my life over into your hands just like you have control of all that goes on in the heavens and the earth." It's a tough thing to do, though. Most of the time when we hand our lives over to God, we're doing so in the guise of humans. Although I have surrendered myself completely to God's will, I will see this play out in the choices my candidacy committee, professors, bishops, and congregations respond to me. That's tough.

In the middle of all this craziness, I realized on my way to school today that I have this unspeakable joy going on. Despite the stress, despite the nerves, despite the schoolwork piling up, I am joyful. I have confidence in the promises of God and I have faith that God will open the doors that are supposed to be opened for us. Right now, in this place of fears and uncertainty, I am finding it easy (for once) to say, "It's all up to you God. Not my will, but yours." Letting go of the control is bringing me to a deeper understanding of faith, and certainly bringing me closer to God. Trust is required to be able to hand over your life to someone--even the Ultimate Someone.

My prayer for all of us is that we may find the strength to give over our lives to God's will. My hope is that we will find unspeakable joy and peace that passes all understanding in letting go of our own desires for God's sake. For it is in the moments of uncertainty, in the scariest times of our lives, when we see God face-to-face, when we recognize God's true power and great love. 

Wes: So, I have a confession to make to y’all. I am not a patient person. I am a terrible waiter, and I’m not talking about the kind that serves food (although I’m probably not very good at that either). I can’t stand anticipation, and when I want something or am ready for something to happen, I want it to happen now. Not later. Now. This really is not a good thing, seeing as how patience is one of the fruits of the Spirit that Paul tells us about in Galatians 5. I even know I need to work on it, but the truth of it is that I simply don’t have the patience to make myself a more patient person.

Right now, though, I have found myself in a season of impatience. I have so much happening soon that I just want to get to it and move on to what the future holds! I want to have it all figured out where we are going to be living when we move down to Texas. I want to already know the church at which I will be working. My impatience has kicked into overdrive. I want these things to happen now. Can’t God just speed things up for me now that we’re so close?

Waiting is hard. I don’t like it.

Which, by the way, is why I am so glad that I am not an Israelite alive during the Exile. I don’t think I could do very well with that whole waiting all the time for the Messiah.

It’s not even that I’m worried about it. I’m not stressed out about what we don’t know and the fear of the unknown. I’m just very, very ready for it to happen.

I’ve found solace in the fact that I’m not alone. In fact, the early Apostles were pretty impatient as well. After Jesus’ Ascension, they were under the impression that He was coming back within a few days—no longer than a couple weeks at most. They quickly had to learn patience; patience far surpassing that which I would need to get over my waiting problems. I mean, they were waiting on God to come back! In 1 Thessalonians, Paul talks about the “day of the Lord” coming “like a thief in the night.” He didn’t know when, but he knew it was soon. So he cautioned the people of Thessalonica to be ready, for it would happen without even a moment’s notice. In the four Gospels, however, which were written decades after Paul’s letter, we hear of a different understanding of the coming of Christ and of God’s Kingdom on earth. It will come, but we must have patience and cling by faith to the peace of God.

So even though we are in the midst of all of this waiting, I guess it could be worse. I guess we could have no idea when we were taking the plunge, or where, or anything, for that matter. But we know a lot. We know that we are going to Texas, and that we will be within driving distance of all of the friends and family who we have dearly missed. We know that I will be guaranteed a full-time job as a United Methodist pastor (which is way more than most can count on, and I am very blessed by this), and we know that I will be commissioned in June and will be one step closer to ordination. We know that somehow, Jess will have an internship, even if it is unpaid and even if one or both of us has to commute. We know that all three of us will be together, and above all else, we know that God has a wonderful plan for us and for our ministry together.

I guess we can live with waiting for the rest of it.

Well, that’s it for us. Thanks for reading. Next time, we’ll talk about something crazy like Martin Luther’s understanding of the third use of the law or the imputed righteousness of Christ or teething rings.

For now, though, you stay classy, World Wide Web.

-jess and wes

Lent!

Jess: Well, it's that time of year again. It seems like it got here a lot faster than last year. LENT. That wonderful season in the Christian liturgical calendar that has many meanings and many purposes and many biblical precedents. It's 40 days of thinking about how bad we are...40 days of giving something up so we'll lose weight, save money, or some other great benefit...40 days of being sad and not saying Hallelujah (at least for Lutherans)...40 days of what? I don't think any of the above ideas are really that fantastic, but Lent is a hard thing to pin down. My personal favorite way of looking at it (this year, at least) is as a season of contemplation. It's a time to reflect on ourselves, the world, sin, etc. It's the dark night before the dawn, when we recognize our own faults, so that we can rejoice in Jesus' coming and his saving work. It is, like the whole year, a time to think about what God has done and continues to do for us.

Many people give things up for Lent. I myself have, in the past, given up sweets, TV, talking for an hour each day, and much more. I think that the purpose of giving something else has to be carefully discerned. Many people use this as a time to kind of test out a New Year's Resolution that didn't go so well. To give something up for 40 days seems doable. It's something you can count down. But that's not the point of giving something up for Lent. I'm not sure where the practice started, but I know it's not about giving something up so that you will be forced to eat healthier, thereby allowing you to lose weight. In fact, I stopped giving up sweets after the year that I lost 5 pounds over Lent. I knew that my motivations from then on would not be the right ones.
We had a professor in college who ranted against giving something up for Lent, but I wasn't really listening then. Now I realize he has some good points. If eating sweets is bad for you and you want to be healthier, just don't eat sweets. Don't try to do it out of some sort of religious obligation. If you want to learn how to watch less TV, just stop watching as much TV, don't try to make it seem like you're giving it up for Jesus. So giving something up for Lent is pretty tricky. Ever since we got married, Wes and I have been trying to do a Lenten discipline, which we see as a horse of a different color. Perhaps it's still a little cheesy or lame or not quite the point of Lent, but I'd like to think we're at least making a step in the right direction...
Two years ago, we each took on a prayerful devotion time. I read through the Gospel of Mark in Greek and reflected on it throughout the season. Wes did a prayer time while I did that. Last year, we added a Sabbath to our week--from 2 p.m. on each Saturday, we would do no homework, church work, etc. Our goal wasn't to just sit around and watch TV, either. We cooked dinner together, went on walks, spent time talking, and more. I wish we had added some sort of prayer component to it, but it was really a time of refreshment. It reminded us to slow down, that getting everything done is much easier when you include rest.
This year, we're doing something a little different. We're going to model our discipline off a book I read a couple of years ago called Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping. I would encourage everyone to read this, or one of the many blogs about being more frugal that you can find by searching "The year without spending." We're not going to be buying anything new, going out to eat, or otherwise spending money for the season of Lent. That means no random stops for ice cream, no extra purchases when we're out grocery shopping--just the basics. The woman in this book definitely takes it to the extreme, even to the point of only buying the cheapest version of everything when she gets food. To make sure that we don't use this as a way to just save money for ourselves, we're going to donate the money that is normally allocated in our budget to this kind of stuff. I'll let Wes talk some more about our plans, because I've been going on too long already!

Wes: So everyone knows that Lent is that special time of year when you give up something you love as a sacrifice to Easter Bunny so that he brings you delicious chocolates and eggs containing a small amount of pocket change. In the olden days, Lent was first observed by entire communities sacrificing all of the young men and women who had reached the coveted age of maturity. Adolescents of both genders joyously threw themselves into smoldering volcanic pits while the elderly and the young cheered from a safe distance away. When whole civilizations were wiped out due to illness and the fact that no one was procreating, neighboring aborigine societies decided that it might be within their best interests to instead give up chocolate and Facebook for a forty-day span. The dreaded Rabbit of Resurrection accepted this paradigm shift, and the ritual has remained unchanged for millennia. 

So, with the weight of thousands of years of tradition bearing me down, here is a list of items that I have given up for Lent in the past:

• Soda.
• Chocolate and other forms of candy.
• Facebook. 
• Pizza.
• Gum. (This one was particularly hard because at the time I was utterly addicted to rubber)
• Ice Cream. 
• All forms of dessert. 
• Video Games.
• School. (This one was vetoed almost immediately by the powers that be--my parents)
• TV
• Multiple combinations of some/all of the above.

During my senior year of high school, I decided to try something different. A friend of mine covenanted with me to spend each Wednesday lunch period in one of the band practice rooms. We would fast during the lunch hour and pray for every student, faculty member, and staff member of the school. After having to pass a background check and go before the school board to promise that I did not want the names for any maligned purpose, we set out on our mission. My friend didn't last the entire time, and to be honest there were certain days when I would sneak a bite of a granola bar before dinner, but we tried our best, and I can personally attest that every person in the school was prayed for by name at least once during that 40-day span. 

It was a wonderful experience for me, and it led to a shift in how I understood and approached Lent. From that point on, I've tried to either add something new and exciting like this prayer experiment or at least tried to make sure that when I do take away something for Lent, I replace it with something awesome, like intentional prayer time anytime I feel the itch to update my status.

This year will be challenging. There are times when I just really want a Starbucks drink or a fountain soda. But I'm going to try my hardest to live as simply as possible--not just to cut out the extra fluff from my life, but because I'm hoping that it helps me see just how much I have and how blessed I am. I know that I take much in my life for granted, and that I rely on the extravagance of my middle-class situation much more than I rely on the extravagance of my God. I want to change that. 

I hope that this will end up being a wonderful experience for Jess and I, and I hope that in some way it continues even after Lent, that we might live simply in our extravagance, and give God all of the glory for the things we so often and so readily take for granted. 

So whatever you do for Lent, I pray that it is a meaningful experience for you. I pray that you'll be able to see it for what it is--a discipline--and I pray that God will be blessed by you through it while God blessed you through it. 

Also, Happy Ash Wednesday!

You stay classy, World Wide Web!

-jess and wes

Tipping: It's Not Just a City in China

Jess: So Wes and I have been discussing this "pastor" who refused to tip his waitress http://consumerist.com/2013/01/29/diner-thinks-that-saying-hes-a-pastor-allows-him-to-stiff-waiter-on-tip/. Apparently this guy doesn't need to tip his server because he gives God 10%, and no one else deserves more than that.

Geez, this is so wrong on so many levels. I'm so beyond frustrated to see something so ridiculous cruising the internet and giving people yet another reason to hate Christians. We really suck sometimes, right?

First of all, this guy is saying that a tip is somehow equal to tithing. Wrong. Tithing (for you non-churchy people, that's the fancy word for giving 10% of your income to the church) is something we do out of gratitude to God. There are a few biblical justifications for the giving to be 10%, but the general idea is that we give back to God. But, with the exception of the sacrifices of the firstborn animal, grain, etc. from the Old Testament, this tithe wasn't ever really given TO God, precisely. Even most of the sacrifices were presented in some way before God and then actually used by the priests. The priests received their food from the offerings of the people. God has no need for food or drink, but the priests certainly did.

The point of the tithe is not that I'm giving 10% TO God, but that I'm giving 10% of the gifts with which God has blessed me so that they may be a blessing to others. In modern times, this still frequently means supporting the pastor with their salary, housing allowance, etc. But this money also goes to the other work of the church-- serving God's people. A tithe is not something we give to God because God needs it. Giving the tithe is an acknowledgement that everything we have is already God's. It's a way to say thank you. But like I said before, God doesn't need our money, food, time, whatever--those are already God's to begin with. God calls us to share these things with others, to care for the rest of creation because God loved and cared for us first.

The second (and final, because I'm ranting) point I will make is about how this guy treated the poor server. We are reminded repeatedly throughout the Bible of how God has taken care of us--from the Israelites that God rescued from slavery in Egypt, to our salvation through Jesus' death on the cross. And God calls us to care for others because he first cared for us. 1 John 4:19 says, "We love because he first loved us." This is one of my biggest problems with Christianity as an institution today. We hear so much about how cruelly Christians treat one another and especially those that they consider to be "outside" the faith. And almost none of it is good. Good deeds seem to always come from outside of Christianity, while Christians, the ones who are called to spread the message of love, are best known for our hypocrisy. Ouch. This guy is a great example of that.

Our tithing is supposed to be a way to thank God. So I can almost see how he can equate the tip with the tithe. We are thanking our server for good work. But, as I said about a million times above, God doesn't NEED our money. Someone who is working at or below minimum wage (because of whatever crazy system they have worked out for servers) NEEDS that money! Even if they're having a bad night--we should give them the benefit of the doubt. THAT'S the kind of message Christians are called to share. I'm sure we wouldn't have heard much about it, but what if this "pastor" had instead tipped above and beyond the 18%, writing a note about how he remembers being a server, and how he hopes that the server has a great day. But no, he's too busy complaining about a perfectly legitimate tip being automatically added to his tab when he brought a large party. What a jerk. So now the country is in an uproar about this "pastor's" actions. And once again the Gospel message is lost in someone's inability to see Christ in the other.

Wes: “And this is how the world will know that you are my disciples: if you love one another.”

Jesus said this to his disciples. It is recorded in John 13:35.

Earlier, when asked what the greatest commandment was, Jesus answered by saying, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind. The second one is like it: love your neighbor as yourself.”

Something is wrong when our relationship with and faith in God can be used a bludgeon to others. It goes against everything that Jesus stood for, and completely misses the point of the Christian life. Now, Jess did a wonderful job speaking of tithing and of how the call of the Christian is so much more than simply writing a check to God for 10% of our annual income. I’ll let her words stand alone in this aspect. But something else from this really caught me off guard, and really disappointed me: there was no love in this. Even if that 18% gratuity was high (which I absolutely do not believe to be true), this pastor acted out of anger and self-righteousness instead of out of love, and this is just sad. I feel so bad for this waitress, who did not see Jesus in this pastor that night and who ended up losing her job because of the “embarrassment” she caused this clergy person.

I also feel bad for the pastor, who has completely missed the point of what it means to give to God. If I ever heard a parishioner say that they gave 10% to God and that was enough, I’d probably try to use the occasion as a teaching experience, a chance to show them that the call on our lives is not to give God 10% of our income but to give God 100% of ourselves. Tithing (and the many other ways in which the Ancient Israelites were called to give to God, which actually totals to about 33% of one’s income) was a way to allow each person and family to take part in the work that God’s people were doing in the world. It fed and clothed the priests who served as mediators between Creator and created. It built the Tabernacle and later the Temple, both of which served as focal points of worship for the people. It was not a clear-cut tax that would be weighed and measured by authorities, but was a way to include all in the work of the Lord. This pastor obviously missed that, and I feel bad for her and for those who are not hearing this vital truth of Scripture at her church.

I hope that my friends outside of the church do not judge all of us by such acts like this. I wish I could say that they are few and far between, but that’s not exactly true, is it? The body of Christ needs to step up and do a better job of loving. Right now (and I admit that I speak only from my perspective), we are missing out on chance after chance to love others, and I sincerely doubt that the world would say that they know us first and foremost by our love.

Let’s step it up, friends. Jesus set out a pretty steep challenge. Let’s rise to meet it.

And come on. Tip your servers. They’re earning every penny, and even if they’re not, they probably need it just as much as—if not more than—you do.

Stay classy, World Wide Web.

-jess and wes