by Angela Sanders | Sep 13, 2018
Bible study, big events, and fellowships.
Good food, big laughs, and photo ops.
Special emphases, small groups, and mission trips.
Vision casting, tearful prayers, and budget sweats.
This is the world of organizational ministry, but what’s it all for? What’s the goal?
Well, it’s not to create the most exciting atmosphere in town, although there’s much to be said for fostering an environment conducive to community and learning. It’s not to draw the largest crowds to your programs and events, although every body present represents a soul who needs Jesus. It’s not to teach the most engaging and culturally relevant lessons, although people need to know that Jesus is still the answer. It’s not even to produce people able to do what you do how you do it, although the Church desperately needs organizational leaders.
No, the ultimate goal of organizational ministry is the advancement of God’s Kingdom for His ultimate glory.
How do you reach a big goal like that? The process is much simpler than we sometimes make it.
Teach your people to SHARE the Gospel. Pick a plan, any plan—Roman Road, FAITH, One Hope (skopos.org)—and teach it to your people. Let them practice on each other regularly, and use it yourself when presenting the Gospel. Hopefully, this is happening every time you meet! If so, your people will pick up the script without even meaning to, just like they can’t help learning the latest ear worm. Then, when the opportunity to tell someone about the single greatest display of God’s grace and mercy in history presents itself, they’ll be ready.
Teach your people to PROVE the Gospel. If you didn’t grow up hearing it, the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection is a lot to take in. Most people need proof before they’ll believe it, much less put their faith in it. The only readily available proof we have that the Gospel is true is the presence of a supernatural Holy Spirit in our lives made possible by our faith in that very Gospel. When we ignore the Holy Spirit and live life by our own rules and/or under our own power, our Gospel message falls flat and people have reason to doubt, but when we let Him shine through us by obeying God’s Word consistently, we prove the Gospel true. Teach your people what the Bible says and urge them to obey it so the skeptics will have no excuse.
Teach your people to ILLUSTRATE the Gospel. Even those who believe the Gospel sometimes have a hard time believing God had them in mind when He sent Jesus to do what He did. When we dole out grace by treating people better than they deserve to be treated and extend mercy by showing compassion restraint in all situations, we give those people reason to believe they are part of the world God loves (John 3:16). When we forgive, believing and acting as if people don’t owe us for their mistakes, we demonstrate the nearness and accessibility of salvation. Love your people and teach them to love others completely, unconditionally, and self-sacrificially, like Jesus did. Together, become beacons that illuminate God’s path to eternal freedom from sin and its consequences.
Want your organizational ministry blood, sweat, and tears to count for something? Don’t just churn out more church mice. Produce, with the Holy Spirit’s help, men, women, teenagers and children equipped, willing, and able to direct the world’s attention to God’s divine perfection, the greatest display of which is the Gospel we’re called preach, prove, and illustrate. The Father will take it from there.
by Angela Sanders | Sep 4, 2018
I’m always on the receiving end of grace—I know this for sure—but lately, I feel it so deeply I’m tempted to wear a sign that reads, “Thank you in advance for your patience.”
In seasons like this, when human limitations suffocate and the ground I’ve gained seems lost, I thank God for the Golden Rule. Truly.
You’ve heard it, right?
“…Whatever you want others to do for you, do also the same for them…” (Matt. 7:12).
Of course, for this verse to bring me any comfort whatsoever, I must assume everyone, like me, makes mistakes, needs forgiveness, and craves second, third, and fourth chances. I must believe they want and need from me what I want and need from them. Otherwise, what’s the point?
What do I need, exactly? Many things, but here is this week’s short list.
I need you to overlook raw presentation. It’s been an irregular, emotional time, and I haven’t had the presence of mind to plan my words and actions like I usually do.
I need you to assume best intentions. I haven’t had the time and energy to finish every conversation, respond to every question, or offer my thanks to those who so richly deserve it.
I need you not to fill in gaps. If you really need to know to move forward—sometimes we do—please ask me what I meant, what that look was for, and why I said or did what I said or did. I may not even be aware that something passed between us or that it affected you.
I need your patience as I reboot parts of my brain that have lain dormant for a while and figure out how to function in this new normal.
I need you to forgive my absence and take up my slack in spots.
In a nutshell, I need you to love me. It’s a vulnerable place to be, for sure, but I’ve discovered the upside to living here in this state of humble need: an increased proclivity to love in return.
Don’t have the strength? Let me help you.
Don’t have the patience? Hang tight with me.
Don’t have the wisdom? I know the One who does. Let’s seek Him together.
I’m here for you. I mean it, and I’m not sure I always have.
Truth? I’m a much better person when I’m sucking grace by the gallon from the collective pool than when I’m floating effectively above it all, so I thank God today for this trial and give Him all the glory for any good that comes from it.
Things will get better. They always do, even if my circumstances don’t really change, even if they get worse. Sooner or later, I’ll figure out what God’s trying to teach me, and if I respond correctly by letting Him carve away excess and add what I lack, I’ll come away stronger, wiser, more Christ-like. A sharper tool in the Father’s hand, I’ll be ready to move forward, and when I do, I’ll take this short list with me so I don’t forget what I needed from you in this moment, what you will, no doubt, need from me one day.
by Angela Sanders | Aug 8, 2018
Today stinks.
It’s everyone’s fault and no one’s all at the same time. I just know my heart hurts, and when I reached into my bag of fake a few hours ago, there were no smiles left to paste on.
Tears came instead. Ugly tears. The kind you go into the shower to hide from everyone who’s trying to deal around you. They’re hurting, too, so there’s really no one to lean on without adding to their burden.
No one but God.
I try to pray, to pour out my burdens to Him, but all that will come is I need you.
I need you.
His response? My strength is made perfect in weakness. A verse I learned as a child.
I’ll admit I’m not instantly comforted.
My tears do not stop.
I do not feel calm.
In fact, my first instinct is to kick back, to list my disappointments and hurts and fears, explaining to God how much it stinks to be a human being.
Jesus comes to mind unbidden, and the tears slow, not because I am overwhelmed by His love for me or because I am any more grateful for the salvation He made possible than I normally am, but because I realize I have nothing on Him.
If what I’m going through is bad, then what He went through was even worse. I may not be feeling any increased or “perfect” strength at present, but I’m not alone, not even here.
Understanding dawns and dark thoughts scatter, even as my pain stays put. Maybe there’s more to the verse than I thought.
When we’re convinced we couldn’t feel any worse and curl up within ourselves where no one else can follow only to find Jesus there, seeing, understanding, and agreeing with us that being human stinks sometimes because He’s been there, we’re forced to acknowledge that He is enough.
In moments like these, the strength God displayed in sending Jesus not only to die on the cross, but also to live the same hard life we live so He could show us how to persevere and emerge victorious comes full circle, earning for Him the glory, or recognition, He desires and deserves from us for the provision His strength made possible. Serving His ultimate purpose, it’s made perfect in weakness, complete.
Smart God. The kind I’m proud to know and call Father.
No arguments left to fling His way, no more yeah, but’s, I have no choice but to settle into His sufficient grace while He works this present junk together for my good.
I’m still not okay. Not like I want to be. My circumstances haven’t changed, but I know God will see me through. In truth, He already has. Because He is strong, so am I.
by Angela Sanders | Jul 19, 2018
“Angela, would you hand me that gauze?”
Grandmother could have reached it. She sat not three feet away. Yes, she held her deaf and diabetic neighbor’s diseased foot in her lap, but one good stretch and she would have had it on her own.
I, on the other hand, stood all the way across the room, ponytail and sweaty palms pressed flat against a yellow-flocked wall, trying to vanish.
“Angela?”
I hated to disappoint Grandmother. She’d bought me donuts for breakfast. Willing those donuts to stay in place, I crossed the room on gangly legs that didn’t feel like mine and knocked the gauze toward my grandmother with the tip of an untied sneaker.
Patient and a little amused, she smirked in her usual way and nodded at the floor by her neighbor’s foot. She wanted me to sit.
I didn’t know what gangrene looked like and wasn’t anxious to find out, so I took the seat she’d indicated, but faced her instead of the foot.
It was enough. With tenderness, Grandmother continued to dress her neighbor’s foot, handing me scissors and gauze and tape to hold at intervals.
A bony hand rested on my back and I stiffened.
The hand withdrew.
Grandmother didn’t react, but I felt guilty, so I leaned into the deaf woman’s leg. A few seconds later, she began to play with my ponytail just like my grandmother might have, and I relaxed. While Grandmother worked in silence, I took in my surroundings as if I’d just arrived. The walls were mostly bare, and it made me inexplicably sad, so I spent the rest of the morning drawing pictures for my new friend’s living room.
Sickness doesn’t have to be scary, and a little discomfort isn’t always a bad thing. You know your child best, but in many cases, allowing your child to help care for and encourage those who aren’t quite themselves will end up blessing both the patient and the child if you do it the right way.
Here are a few tips:
Be honest. Kids know when you’re hiding something, and it scares them more when you do so. Speak in euphemisms and generalities if necessary, but tell kids the truth about what they’re walking into before they get there so they can process it and make their own plan for coping.
Express confidence. In yourself, in them, and in God’s ability to work all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Rom. 8:28). Choose your words carefully and watch your body language closely.
Invite them to participate. Don’t force participation, but let them know they are not only welcome, but wanted, allowing them to choose where they will sit or stand and for how long. When they speak, acknowledge their words with enthusiasm, but don’t put them on the spot.
Give them a job. Kids feel empowered when they are allowed to help. Assign them an age-appropriate, measurable task that you can thank them for later, such as making sure the blankets stay straight, the room stays quiet and calm, the gift you brought gets delivered and/or displayed, or the cat gets enough attention. Avoid assigning self-management tasks that imply pre-existing mistrust, such as keeping their mouth shut, staying out of the way, or being good.
Provide escape or distraction if needed. Anticipate your child’s needs. If you think the visit may prove too much or last too long for them, pack quiet activities they will enjoy, but only offer them when they show significant signs of distress or are causing a disruption. If they need to be excused, tell them exactly where to wait for you or exit gracefully with them. Make sure, though, that you give your kids time to self-soothe and problem-solve before you step in or you might rob them of an opportunity to overcome mild discomfort on their own and so mature.
Affirm them. Thank your children for whatever contributions they are able to make, even if they are small, from simply obeying to participating directly and/or creatively during your visit. Tell them how their just being present is a blessing to people who are sick and to those who love those sick people. Let them know you would like them to come with you again sometime and, when possible, allow them to help plan the next visit.
Sickbed visits aren’t really comfortable for anyone, but when we view them as opportunities to model and encourage service and empathy, we help our children become the comforters we’re all called to be (2 Cor. 1:3-4).
by Angela Sanders | Jul 10, 2018
Having my child as a student in my public school classroom wasn’t easy, but I learned how to see people like Jesus sees them, give God room to do what only He can, and love people even when I don’t particularly like them. This last lesson was probably the hardest to learn, so let me save you the trouble.
Loving people when you don’t particularly like them
Until my daughter became my student, I played favorites among those with whom she interacted. Her sense of well-being my subconscious first priority in any situation that involved her, I doled out love in direct proportion to the love she received, heaping grace on those who heaped grace on her and withholding mercy from those who withheld it from her. I claimed to love everyone the same in Jesus’ name and truly believed that I did, but then proved myself a liar by my actions sometimes.
Is it natural for moms to feel and act this way? Yes, but that’s the problem. Those of us who claim the presence of a supernatural Holy Spirit in our lives as a result of our faith in the Gospel shouldn’t exhibit natural patterns of behavior. We have a God to glorify, and He doesn’t play favorites. When He sent Jesus to die on the cross, He extended grace and mercy to everyone, making a way for ALL of us to be forgiven. As His children, we must too, regardless of how they treat us and/or the ones we love.
It wasn’t until I saw a spiritual need in a child who had been mean to my daughter that I realized the counterproductive nature of my biased actions. I had the answers this little girl needed, but had burned the bridge of relationship between us that could have born the burden of the truth I had to share. I did my best to share God’s truth with her anyway, but saw distrust and doubt in her eyes. When I realized what my actions could cost her, my heart sank, and I vowed to keep the most important thing the most important thing from then on.
Oh, my mother’s heart kept screaming, “Do unto others as she thinks they do unto her,” but the Holy Spirit was faithful to whisper, “Love her enemies,” so I focused on treating people better than even they thought they deserved to be treated, showing compassionate restraint, and giving everyone a clean slate daily, hourly, even momentarily. It did help to remember that while a person’s perception is their reality, we all operate from a skewed perception of God’s omniscient truth. The only way to be in the right for sure is to love like He tells us to and leave the results up to Him.
Now, let me be clear, there were times when appropriate channels of authority and influence had to be brought in. We still forgave. That is, we believed and behaved as if individuals who had wronged her no longer owed us anything, but justice had to be carried out in those instances, not only for her good, but also for the good of those who acted inappropriately and those whom they might have hurt later. Remember, the cross wasn’t just about grace and mercy poured out; it was also about justice met.
What was the result of working to love those I didn’t particularly like? I can’t say for sure. I wish we could. I hope it led them closer to Jesus; I know it led me closer. I guess we’ll all find out in Heaven. One thing I do know is that it left room for some fences to be mended between my daughter and her friends that might not otherwise have been. We mommas tend to hold on to things longer than our children do, a tendency that can prevent the development of true and beneficial friendships in our children’s lives if we aren’t careful.
In the end, I learned trying to keep the roles you play in life separate from one another is as futile as trying to prevent roots from getting tangled once you’ve planted your garden, but that’s okay. Sometimes the tangle becomes a platform for the Gospel you preach, proving the sincerity of your faith and giving others hope.
If my daughter hadn’t been my student—if I hadn’t had “skin in the game,” so to speak—the people in her world might not have had the same chance to test and ultimately receive the unconditional love I promised them. My daughter, knowing the depth of my love for her, might not have had the chance to watch her mother learn to put personal feelings aside in pursuit of her calling to represent Jesus well.
To be honest, I still don’t have it all figured out. In fact, I wince when I think of all the times I’ve had to apologize and/or work to make up lost ground when the mama bear in me got riled, but I’m trusting God to use those failures, too. After all, if God can forgive and use an empathetic, over-protective, compulsively verbal mom/teacher like me to love on others, there’s hope for everyone else!