Yesterday my children had their last day of school for the 2012-2013 school year. That has me reflecting on the school year and all of their events and learning experiences. It amazes me how much they grow, learn and change in just 9 months.
This also has me thinking about Jesus. In Luke 2:52 we see Jesus at the age of 12 going home with his parents and growing in “wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men.” I usually take this verse to be a complete description of how a child needs to develop. First they grow in wisdom. That is mental growth. They learn and add to their knowledge of the world. Second, they grow in stature. That is physical growth. My kids seem to grow and grow and grow. My job is to help them develop their body through sports and exercise Third is in favor with God. That is spiritual growth. Every year a child needs to be growing in knowledge and obedience to God. I firmly believe they need to learn what God’s word says and then how to apply it to their lives – and then they are to live it out daily. Finally, they are to grow in favor with man. That is social growth. I tell my children over and over that I estimate better than half of the problems in their adult life will be in relationship to others. Children need to learn how to relate to other children, to members of the opposite sex, to adults and to the elderly.
My wife and I have committed ourselves to helping our children develop as complete individuals as God designed them.
Honestly, I often see people neglect one or more of these areas. For example, they have smart kids who are socially awkward. Maybe they are very athletic and social but they have terrible grades. Maybe, just maybe, they are growing in their walk with God and have no social skills. And so on and so on…
I believe Jesus was the perfect man and he developed in a way that is a pattern for all children. My question is very simple, “I am helping my children to develop completely as adults?” What about you?

Minister and Church planter named Dan Kimball wrote a book called, “They like Jesus but not the Church.” Dan is a leader in the area of “Missional Churches.” “Missional Churches” are Churches that see their role in society, no matter where they are in the world, as missionaries of the gospel of Christ.
Chapter 2 is entitled “Why I escaped the Church office” and has a section he calls “The transformation from excited missionary into citizen of the bubble.” He describes how he views the steps most Christians take in their life of faith. Phase 1 is simply “We become Christians.” Phase 2 is “We become part of Church life.” Next he describes phase 3 as “We become part of the Christian bubble.” Now, I typed in this section and hope you understand and enjoy.

“Things really start changing in phase 3. As we slowly withdrawal from ongoing relationships with those outside the Church and focus on relationships with those inside the Church, something happens. Once, it was more natural and even exciting to share life with people at work or at school, with relatives, or with neighbors. But slowly we begin to see evangelism as something the Church does, primarily through events. We get more excited about going overseas to the mission field on summer trips than about the mission field we live in every day. We start to see evangelism as inviting people to go to a Church, where the pastor will do the evangelizing and explain Christianity, instead of spending time with people and talking with them and being the Church to them.
During this phase, we stop praying daily for those who don’t know Jesus and instead pray for our Church’s latest building project or latest program. Other than maybe at an office Christmas party that we have to go to, we rarely ever hang out with non-Christian friends or go to the movies with them. For the most part, only Christians are in our circle of peers. We begin buying little Christian stickers or put metal fish symbols on our cars, and we even have a few Christian T-shirts. We set our radios only to our favorite Christian radio shows, and most of the music we listen to is Christian. We make a trip to the amusement park that has the special Christian day each year featuring Christian bands. We find ourselves regularly using Christian words and phrases and clichés, such as backsliding, prayer warrior, fellowship, quiet time, traveling mercies, ‘I have a check in my spirit.’ The transformation is complete. We have become citizens of the bubble.”

—Page 44 of “They like Jesus but not the Church: insights from emerging generations” by Dan Kimball

Dan Kimball’s fear (and mine) is that too many Christians have taken up residence inside the “Christian Bubble.” We no longer have contact with people outside of Christianity. He ends this section of the book by saying that at Phase 4 “We become Jonah.” Not only do we no longer have contact with people outside of God, we really don’t care about them anymore. My question is, “Does any of this sound like my life?”

I heard another quote last night that went something like this: “We believe that everything will work out in the end. So, if everything is not working out, then it is simply not the end.”

I think that could be a quote that applies very well to my sermon last week. I talked about things “Not working out like I planned.” In that sermon I explained that God has a plan for our lives, but that plan may not always be easy to achieve or even understand. We may have to go through pain to get to God’s desired location.

Either way you express it – if life is hard then you are not where God wants you yet. That’s okay, it will work out in the end.

I ran across this quote yesterday –

“Fight Apathy!… Or don’t, I couldn’t care less.”

It ranks right up there with:

“I might be the very best and most completely humble person I know.”

or

“I would serve more selflessly, but I am afraid that no one will notice it”

This past Sunday I preached a sermon entitled “Not Quite What I Was Planning.” In the sermon I threw in a quick, spur of the moment line from the movie “Dan in Real Life.” I wanted to give the full quote today. at the end of the movie Dan’s weekly article has gone into syndication and here is his first national piece.

Dear Readers, for most of you, this is my first column in your paper. In the future, I will be answering your questions, but today I want to break from my usual format and talk to you about the subject of plans. Not so much my plan for this column, but life plans, and how we all make them. And how we hope that our kids make good, smart, safe plans of their own. But if we’re really honest with ourselves, our plans usually don’t work out as we had hoped. So instead of asking our young people “What are you plans? What do you plan to do with your life?” maybe we should tell them this: Plan to be surprised.

I spent a summer in Sawbridgeworth England as a missions intern in 1993. A new Church had started there a year before I arrived and I was going to help it get going. I ended up spending most of my summer going door to door and sticking flyers into the mail slots on doors. This is completely legal in England. It was my job to hit every house in town and when I finished Sawbridgeworth, I then rode the bus to nearby towns to distribute flyers as well.
What did the advertisements say you ask? Well, one was a sheet of paper that gave all the information about our “Holiday Bible Club.” In the US we call it “Vacation Bible School” and it is an event for kids 6th grade and under. By the way, it ended up being a huge success. We had over 100 different kids come and averaged in the 70’s each night. It was probably the biggest Christian children’s event in the entire United Kingdom that year.
The ad for the Holiday Bible Club was placed inside of an orange little pamphlet that said on the outside; “Ten Reasons I Never Wash.” As you can imagine, many people flipped the brochure open to read:
1. I was made to wash as a child.
2. People who wash are hypocrites they reckon they are cleaner than other people.
3. There are so many different kinds of soap, I could never decide which one was right.
4. I used to wash, but it got boring so I stopped.
5. I still wash on special occasions like Christmas and Easter.
6. None of my friends wash.
7. I’m still young. When I’m older and have got a bit dirtier I might start washing.
8. I really don’t have the time.
9. The bathroom’s never warm enough.
10. People who make soap are only after your money.
Finally, on the back of the brochure it had a little explanation about Church being like washing. It apparently was effective. By the end of the summer we had 40 people attending Church (up from the original 10 people).
Maybe people enjoyed it. Maybe people were offended. Maybe they felt convicted. Maybe it was just British Humor.

It seems a man in Topeka, Kansas, decided to write a book about churches around the country. He started by flying to New York, and started working west from there. He went to a very large church and began taking photographs and talking to people. There he spots a golden telephone on a wall and is intrigued with a sign which reads “$100,000 a minute.”
Seeking out the pastor he asks about the phone and the sign. The pastor answers that this golden phone is, in fact, a direct line to Heaven and if he pays the price he can talk directly to God. He thanks the pastor and continues on his way. As he continues to visit churches in Chicago, Minneapolis, Denver, Los Angeles and Seattle and all around the United States, he finds more phones, with the same sign, and the same answer from each pastor.
Finally, he arrives in Alaska. Upon entering a church in Homer, lo and behold, he sees the usual golden telephone. But THIS time, the sign reads “Calls $1”
Fascinated, he requests to talk to the pastor. “Reverend, I have been in cities all across the country and in each church I found this golden telephone, and have been told it is a direct line to Heaven and that I could talk to God, but, in the other churches the cost was $100,000 a minute. Your sign reads $1 a call. Why?”
The pastor, smiling benignly, replies, “Oh, my son, that’s very easy to explain. You see, you’re now in Alaska and, of course, it’s a local call from here.”

It is funny where you can get material from. Michelle and I were watching the movie Coach Carter this past Friday and there is a quote in the movie that is unmistakable. I did a Google search this morning and learned that it was a variation from a quote made by poet Marianne Williamson. Here is the full version:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.’ We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

In honor of this weekend I wanted to share a story I ran across several years ago. I do not know the source, but it is very well written and I thought I would share it for this weekend. I hope you are touched and blessed.

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family.” “We’re taking a survey,” she says, half-joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?”
“It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
“I know,” she says, “no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations….”
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child-bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, “What if that had been MY child?” That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.
That an urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment’s hesitation.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right. I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five-year old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at McDonald’s will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years-not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children’s future.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.
My daughter’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.
“You’ll never regret it,” I finally say.
Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter’s hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God…that of being a Mother.

Mother’s day is this Sunday and I have been thinking about being a parent. For some reason my mind went back to a scene in a movie (maybe that is because I watch too many movies). In the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Brad Pitt’s character writes a letter to his daughter. It is pretty good advice from any parent and I thought I would remind you of what it says 0 or share it anew.

For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.