Reflections

On Singing Men:

I love songs in which men lead out and women echo. Unfortunately, our church has had a dearth of musically inclined men, so we’ve had to make do with having the men sing with a female lead singer and then have the rest of the women echo. Not only does this not sound quite as nice as having a solely male lead, it also tends to confuse the guys.

In the last couple of years, we’ve added two men to our worship team. Neither are really comfortable with leading out in singing–but this week they did so anyway on one of those songs with a male lead and a female echo. Beautiful.

On me singing loudly:

I sing loudly. It’s just a matter of fact. I love to sing and I can’t seem to hear how loud I am. I’ve been told that I’m audible all around the sanctuary–but I’ve never paid much attention to it.

Today, I suddenly realized that I am indeed rather the loudest singer in the congregation. Except for maybe my dad. It was during one song in particular where I was just singing my heart out, when it was like a stopper had been released from my ears and I suddenly heard myself as the congregation might hear me. It sounded like me and my dad (we sit on opposite sides of the sanctuary–me in the front row on the middle of the right side, he on the fourth row at the far left side) were trying to out-sing one another.

Interesting. Not sure what I should do about that–or if I should do something about that. But it is interesting.

On the sermon:

LCF’s pastor had a total thyroidectomy a couple of weeks ago. He had nodules that sure looked like cancer. A needle biopsy was inconclusive. They wanted the thyroid out. He got the pathology report back at the beginning of this week. The nodules were completely benign. (Another member of our church had the same surgery the day after Pastor Jason–for the same reason. Her pathology report came back…negative too. Praise the Lord!)

Anyway, long story short, Pastor Jason’s voice is still recovering from his surgery, so we had a “guest” preacher–a man from our congregation. Brian shared powerfully about the sovereignty and goodness of God in the midst of suffering. He closed with Hebrews 12:1-3, particularly verses 2 and 3:

“…looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls.”

It was a wonderful reminder to fix our eyes on Christ rather than on our circumstances, recognizing that God is sovereign over and works good through our circumstances.

On the guys who serve:

Looking at the bulletin today, I realized that one of either my two little brothers or my pseudo-brother Steve are the leaders in Children’s Church almost every week.

John and Steve lead at “Rock Solid”, our midweek kids ministry. John teaches a children’s Sunday School class. Timothy babysits for small groups every week. All three serve as ushers (taking up offering, doing greeting, opening up and locking down the church building). All three serve on the sound ministry.

Which means they pretty much make their rounds between three Sunday morning ministries and a handful of midweek ones. These young men are to be highly commended–but I also worry that 1) they will get burned out rather quickly and 2) this will cause mass disaster when my brothers leave for boot camp in the fall and spring.

It would do us well to recognize the great service these young men do for our body–and to come alongside them and learn how we can fill the holes they will leave in their wakes.

Thanks, guys.

On the Sustaining Grace of God:

In the Sunday School I’m in, we’re going through II Peter.

In my personal quiet times, I’m reading through the Bible following a plan from The Standard Publishing Company.

I was struck by a theme in this morning’s II Peter passage and a couple of days ago’s reading from the Psalms.

“For this they willfully forget: that by the word of God the heavens were of old, and the earth standing out of water and in the water, by which the world that then existed perished, being flooded with water. But the heavens and the earth which are now preserved by the same word, are reserved for fire until the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men.”
II Peter 3:5-7

“You who laid the foundations of the earth…
You covered it with the deep as with a garment…
He sends the springs into the valleys…
He waters the hills from His upper chambers;
The earth is satisfied with the fruit of Your works.
He causes the grass to grow for the cattle,
And vegetation for the service of man…
You make darkness and it is night…
You open Your hand, they are filled with good.
You hide Your face, they are troubled;
You take away their breath,
they die and return to their dust.
You send forth Your Spirit, they are created;
And You renew the face of the earth.”
Psalm 104:5-6, 10, 13-14, 20, 28-30

The truth is that God is sovereign in creating, ordering, and sustaining all that is.

Even now, as I type these words, God is actively sustaining the activities of the universe. By His hand the rain falls to the ground, the stars shine, the planets continue their orbits. By His hand I draw these breaths, my sister works on her homework, and my roommate sleeps. By His hand babies are being born, sinners are being reborn, and saints are being welcomed into everlasting joy. By His hand an alcoholic stays alive to continue drinking, an atheist to write a book “disproving” God, a pornographer to produce pornography.

We all, regardless of anything that we have done, are recipients of the sustaining grace of God.

That truth should cause us to rejoice with exceeding joy and shake in absolute terror. His grace is abundant, but should He at any time withdraw it, the devastation would be total.

May I ever be thankful that God has poured out His full wrath on Christ Jesus, who stood in my place–so that only His sustaining grace remains for me.

Nothing gets me going like a good argument. I just love to argue. Let’s find something we disagree about–no matter how minute–and let’s duke it out.

I imagine my family tired of it on occasion–but they accepted that I enjoyed verbal sparring and they engaged me on that level.

Daniel used to needle me by taking a masochistic stance–which I would return with a feminist point of view. (Don’t freak out here–my feminism is of quite a different breed than this world’s.)

Timmy’ll suggest that Marx had a point and we’ll argue over economics and politics and the running of nations.

Dad and I will find some way to argue our two sides of the predestination/free will debate (I’m a hair more Calvinist than he.)

In early high school, I was part of an online community of homeschoolers. Some people frequented the just-for-fun type message boards, but I hung out almost exclusively in the debate board. We argued free will and predestination, creation and evolution, age of the earth, contraceptive use (there were quiverfulls among us), politics, abortion, and whether Christians should celebrate Christmas. I was in my element.

In my senior year of high school, I did a one year Bible program because I’d already finished my high school requirements. One of my classmates liked arguing as much as I so we’d argue with each other or play tag-team as we argued with a teacher. Eschatology, election, the role of the church–these were some of our favorite topics. And we argued them with vigor.

Arguing invigorates me. It makes me feel alive. My mind is active, my mouth (or keyboard) is active. I’m engaging the topic. I’m thinking as I’m speaking. There’s nothing that can put a spring in my step like a good argument.

But somewhere along the way, I learned that many people aren’t like me. They don’t like to argue. They don’t like to disagree. They don’t see arguing as a mental game, an exercise for the brain. They see it as a battle, an attack on who they are and what they believe.

Or sometimes they like to argue–but not for arguments sake. They are convinced that their view is the only correct view and nothing will change their mind. What’s more–they’re awfully bent on changing my mind. Which often means that they won’t actually engage my ideas–they just fire off with their own.

I’ve learned this of other people and it has pushed me underground as an arguer. I don’t want to attack people. I don’t want them to think I’m a bad person because I disagree with them either. So I keep quiet about certain controversial subjects. I try not to provoke too many arguments.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t still love to argue. I still love a good argument–especially one with Scripture references and proof-texts flying back and forth.

But since I’ve realized that others’ attitudes towards arguments differ from my own, I’ve tried to be really selective as to who I argue with. I try to only argue with people who see it as a mental workout, as I do–people who recognize the inner Irenic (peacemaker) amidst the outer Polemic (fighter).

But then, every so often, I’ll start arguing with someone, and when I’m done, I’ll wonder “Did that get taken the right way?”

Did I read that person wrong when I thought they liked this as much as I?

Did I misestimate the depth of their feeling or attachment to this topic, such that my challenge might be seen as an attack?

Did I misjudge this person when I figured they would understand that I agree with them even as I’m disagreeing?

Because I only argue with people I respect. I only disagree with people I agree with. I only argue with people I care about and admire.

But what if they don’t know that and misinterpret my argumentation?

What if, in doing what I so enjoy, I hurt a dear brother or sister? What then?

And what am I to do with Paul’s admonition to Titus?

“But avoid foolish disputes, genealogies, contentions, and strivings about the law; for they are unprofitable and useless. Reject a divisive man after the first and second admonition, knowing that such a person is warped and sinning, being self-condemned.”
Titus 3:9-11

Is that what I do, who I am when I argue? Do I argue in an unprofitable and useless way? Am I divisive, warped, and sinning in loving argument?

Do I major on minors and let petty things become points of contention?

I don’t know. I don’t know.

But I so love it when someone challenges me and we can mentally and verbally spar. I just want to be sure that in doing so, I am encouraging them (as arguing so often encourages me) rather than tearing them down. I want to be sure that I’m bringing them life (as I feel more alive in the midst of a good argument) rather than bringing them death. I want to be sure that I’m demonstrating my respect for them (as I feel respected when someone engages my mind) instead of making them feel disrespected. I just wish I could be sure.

But I can’t. And that’s what worries me.