by Angela Sanders | Jun 19, 2018
For two years, I had my daughter as a student in my public school classroom. A desired blessing fraught with unforeseen challenge, this rare arrangement taught me much about seeing people like Jesus sees them, giving God room to do what only He can, and loving people even when you don’t particularly like them.
Ready? Time to get vulnerable.
Giving God room to do what only He can.
Until my daughter became my student, I tried to micro-manage her life. Her sense of well-being my subconscious first priority in situations pertaining to her, I tried to keep her calm, happy, safe, and entertained, heading off conflict before it could reach her and working to make her every experience the very best it could possibly be.
Society’s search for the superlative was in full swing by then, and my husband and I, not having the benefit of hindsight yet, had bought in years earlier. Every friend had to be a “bestie,” although the term hadn’t yet been coined—thank goodness! Every gift had to be the biggest or most unique. Every experience had to be the coolest. When she turned three, we put an entire petting zoo in our tiny back yard for her birthday, for crying out loud!
When I became my daughter’s teacher, I saw first-hand what our generosity had cost her, the opportunity to learn how the world really works, how to resolve conflict while preserving relationship, how to be content in every situation, and how to love people in spite of their many faults.
As soon as I saw my mistake, I took my hands off the bike like it was on fire and hung back. That probably wasn’t the right approach either. I’ve since learned there is value in running alongside the bike for as long as you are needed. Fortunately, she welcomed her newfound independence and gladly accepted the responsibility that came with it.
The result? God made significant ground in the work of transformation He’d begun in our sweet girl’s heart when she first put her faith in Jesus. My first priority no longer my daughter’s sense of well-being, but the work of the Gospel, even in situations pertaining to her, I was able to form relationships with people I otherwise wouldn’t have, people with whom she might not have chosen to form a friendship, not because either person had done anything wrong or bore the other ill will, but because some fish just get along better when looking through the glass of separate tanks. (Some more serious situations had to be handled differently, and we’ll talk about that in part 3.) I was finally able to share the Gospel with these new friends in varying degrees through word and deed and fulfill my God-given mission.
My daughter was confused, at times, by my willingness to befriend certain people, but the talks those situations brought about gave me the opportunity to explain the Gospel isn’t just a treasure map to salvation, but a template for our very lives.
Although she never said so or complained, I suspect she still didn’t like it sometimes, and I often wondered whether my choices had damaged our relationship. Now that she’s grown, however, I’ve heard my words come from her mouth, and I’ve watched her choose to love the unlovable in practice while her poor wounded heart catches up, filling my own to the brim.
To be continued…
by Angela Sanders | May 29, 2018
One of the best, but most difficult things I’ve ever done as a parent and as a teacher was to have my daughter as a student in my public school classroom.
“Best” because the unusual arrangement gave me an opportunity to view my daughter through fresh eyes and understand her world a little better. “Most difficult” because I had to learn how to separate being a mother to my daughter from being a missionary and minister to those who inhabited her world. Those who were kind to her and those who weren’t, those she got along with and those she didn’t, they were ALL my district and God-given responsibility.
Over the course of those two precious years, I learned much about seeing people like Jesus sees them, giving God room to do what only He can, and loving people even when you don’t particularly like them.
Ready? It’s confession time.
- Seeing people like Jesus sees them.
Until my daughter became my student, I tended to see those with whom she interacted through her eyes, not God’s. Her sense of well-being my first priority, I accepted her character assessments of people and her side of most stories without question, feeling her hurt and adopting her disappointment as my own. I forgot her perspective was limited. I forgot she could be wrong.
I didn’t realize it at the time, and if you’d confronted me about it, I probably would have argued with you or told you it was just part of being a mom. It is, I guess, but it’s a part moms must learn to control if we want to be effective ambassadors for Christ.
Our children are important, but they are our charges, not our gods. If we claim to be followers of Christ, we have to make His first priority, public recognition of God’s divine perfection (John 17:4), our own. As God’s sending His son to die on the cross for a traitor race so they might be forgiven and adopted as His children is the greatest display of that divine perfection, we must learn to live our lives in a way that highlights that miracle. The first step is to see the spiritual need in those around us and allow ourselves to be viscerally moved by it as Jesus was (Matt. 9:36), wanting for them what we ourselves have received from God. Redemption. New life. Freedom.
How did I come around to this perspective? Easy. People surprised me. As my daughter’s teacher, I had the chance to interact with people I’d only heard of or watched from afar. Supposedly cold, prideful, and mean people did kind things in my presence, and supposedly kind people did cold, prideful, and mean things.
Humanity became a lukewarm mess before my very eyes, and I was able to zoom out far enough to see for myself what the Bible says is true. Although we ALL have admirable qualities, being made in the image of God (Gen. 1:27), we have also ALL fallen short of His glory, or divine perfection (Rom. 3:23). We are ALL harassed by our sin, helpless to save or change ourselves. We are ALL in desperate need of a Savior.
Once I not only knew, but saw this for myself, I began to process people’s words, attitudes, and actions differently. They seemed less personal, somehow. I realized just as victims of whooping cough can’t help coughing, people infected by sin can’t help sinning. It’s as simple as that. Instead of blaming and judging, I started to feel sorry for people when the symptoms of their condition showed, even when those symptoms made life more difficult for me and/or my daughter, and I tried to help her adopt the same perspective while allowing her to have her own feelings, offering comfort, and stepping in when needed (more on that in Part 3).
The result? My heart opened toward those I didn’t even realize I’d locked out, and my evangelistic efforts became more wide-spread and intentional.
Once I quit subconsciously reinforcing her fears, misconceptions, and survivalist behavior, my daughter began to take the words and actions of others a little less personally and to forgive much more quickly, even if she did remain—understandably so—a little skeptical of others.
To be continued…
by Angela Sanders | May 15, 2018
“I want to go deeper.”
Chances are, if you’ve ever been in a position of responsibility for the spiritual health and growth of others, you’ve heard these words. A plea, really, for your help in an active pursuit, this statement is loaded.
What, exactly, does “deeper” mean? Do they really want to be challenged, or do they simply want to know more?
For many, “deeper” simply means “harder to understand.” Once they know something well enough to correctly categorize its application, pass it along to others, and offer a passable explanation to those who might question them about it, they consider the concept mastered and want to move on to new or more abstract information.
There’s nothing at all wrong with this, of course.
We should always strive to build on what we know, for our sake and others’, but we must be careful not to confuse knowledge with wisdom or basic retention with mastery.
Until a person applies the biblical knowledge they’ve acquired, experiences the consequences, good or bad, of that application, and makes necessary changes in heart, mind, and behavior with the Holy Spirit’s help, they’ve not actually mastered that knowledge. It’s not really theirs.
They’ve not matured. They’ve not gone “deeper” in that they’ve neither identified with Christ in the struggle to love God through submission and obedience in that particular—and the suffering that often follows—nor experienced the kind of intimacy with God that comes from making the right choice.
Craving that intimacy—and rightly so—but misunderstanding the process that fosters it, they move on to the next truth, the next concept, mistaking academic struggle for spiritual growth, ever and always looking and asking for more when what they are looking for—what they need—is close at hand, just on the other side of a choice to apply what they already know.
Those of us who mentor—we all do whether we realize it or not—do well when we encourage anyone wanting to absorb new biblical truth to do so, but we err when we fail to challenge them in the practical. We must urge them to consider how the knowledge they’ve acquired has changed their heart, mind, and behavior and to identify what they’ve learned about the Father through that change.
“Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up (1 Cor. 8:1),” and love is obedience to God’s commands (1 John 5:2-3).
Want to grow spiritually? Want to go deeper?
Keep learning new things. Hard things.
DO apply your mind to the truth found in God’s Word, but DON’T forget to put feet to what you learn, for only by living out practically the truth we accept theoretically will we ever fully understand and find satisfaction in what’s ours through faith in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
by Angela Sanders | Apr 26, 2018
“If you can’t say anything nice, come sit by me.”
Not funny.
We’ve all been hurt by the careless words of others, yet we continue to throw our own into the ring like stray dogs trained to fight.
Why? Because it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there and they’ll get us if we don’t get them first? That’s not an acceptable reason to wound. Rather, it’s a compelling reason to become an agent of change so those who come after us don’t have to suffer as we have.
Those of us who claim to belong to God have an even more compelling reason to wage war on careless speech. God is rescuing sinners from the consequences of sin through the Gospel message that’s been entrusted to us. If they’re too wounded to hear it, our mission is compromised. If we are the ones doing the wounding, then we’ve lost our credibility as messengers of love and hope and are finished before we even start.
So how do we kill this weed that threatens the harvest, this cancer that weakens the Body?
First, we define it. Its name is gossip.
You may have heard that gossip is anything that isn’t true, kind, and/or necessary, but I’ve found those criteria too easy to skirt when I really, really want to say something to someone. It’s very possible to say a true thing in a kind way because you think it’s necessary and still do a lot of damage because you weren’t the right person to speak, spoke to the wrong person, or did it all with impure motives, hiding behind a checked-off list of criteria rather than listening to the still, small voice inside that told you to keep your mouth shut.
Let me offer a new definition:
Gossip is any discussion of others and/or circumstances that fails to move everyone involved or impacted forward into God’s best.
The more you understand God’s will for our lives (Christ-likeness) and ultimate purpose (His glory), the more hesitant you’ll be to speak when operating by this definition. In my case, it’s the very muzzle that’s needed.
The second step in killing the cancer-weed that is gossip? Find it.
Like other weeds, gossip can be found in and among the beautiful and beneficial, disguised by flowery words and soft smiles and couched in muddied motives. Pleasing to the ear, it takes root, then takes over, choking the beautiful and beneficial until people who used to be good for each other find themselves in a ruinous pattern of speech from which they can’t break free.
Trust is eroded.
Dissention is stirred.
Suspicion hijacks perspective, and love is suppressed by a perceived need to survive.
We bring it on ourselves, you know, this paranoia. If we didn’t gossip, we wouldn’t suspect others of it. We wouldn’t waste time wondering, and we wouldn’t spend so much energy preventing, protecting, and perpetuating.
The third step in eradicating this cancer-weed? Cut it out.
The Bible says if we confess our sins (things that don’t line up with God’s will and character) and turn away from them, God will forgive and forget (1 John 1:9, Isaiah 43:25). Of course, doing so will probably cost you externally—friends, position, power—but it will ease the burden gossip has laid on your heart and mind, make it easier for you to communicate with your Heavenly Father (Psalm 66:18-19), and free you up to be the people-loving, God-honoring, Gospel-proving Jesus-follower He designed you to be.
Others may or may not follow your lead, but that’s not your concern. You neither answer to nor for them. Regardless of their response, continue to love God by obeying Him (1 John 5:3) and to represent Him well by resisting the temptation to lapse into old patterns of behavior.
Change the topic.
Say positive, complimentary, and encouraging things.
Walk away if you have to, but don’t play games with God’s reputation. There’s too much at stake.
Gossip isn’t just harmful; it’s murderous.
by Angela Sanders | Mar 28, 2018
Gotta admit, folks, I’m not feeling very Easter-y right now, and it’s frustrating because I was in a really good place just a few hours ago. At least by my estimation.
Not anymore! Someone got my goat.
Now, not only do I feel less than encouraged, but I’m having trouble even reading my Bible or praying. I need to forgive, and, truth be told, I don’t want to. Honestly? I feel justified in my anger, and self-righteousness has settled itself in the pit of my stomach like a serpent’s nest.
Of course, when I was younger, I would ride a good mad like this one until it was played out, but experience has taught me this: Anything I might gain by holding a grudge pales in comparison to what the Kingdom will gain if I submit to God and let Him do what only He can, thereby proving the Gospel true and His Holy Spirit, only present in my life as a result of my faith in Jesus’ death and resurrection, powerful to transform.
So what do I do?
I suck it up and, earbuds in, let the beauty created by my brothers and sisters in their more spiritual moments calm my heart as the Holy Spirit works on me. Sort of meaning it and trusting Him to meet me more than halfway because He’s good like that, I ask God to soften my heart and change my perspective. Ever faithful, He does.
Three chords into my favorite song, He turns my attention to the cross. Freedom. Jesus died for this. Mine and theirs.
Two songs later, He indicates the empty tomb, and my defenses begin to crumble. Life. God raised Jesus for this, not only so we could enjoy eternal life in Heaven someday, but also so we could live empowered, victorious lives now.
With authority, the Master speaks my name, and I am undone. It’s time to obey.
Like Lazarus, I put one fleshy foot in front of the other and rely on His power to do what must be done, release the debt. Far smaller than the sum of my own, the slight thing bobs and dips on the swells of His grace before slipping from sight all together.
Relief.
Long moments later, I’m still not feeling particularly Easter-y, but that’s okay. I don’t need to feel redeemed, just prove to those watching I am.