An Invitation--A Snippet from Skillman's Newsletter

Last spring, our church board was reading Rob Bell’s book, Velvet Elvis. In the fourth chapter, Rob shares this advice, “Your job is the relentless pursuit of who God has made you to be. And anything else you do is sin and you need to repent of it.” When I read that, I had to book the book down and consider the truth in those words for a while. I had been excited about working in a church for years, but had been paying the bills by teaching at a high school in Plano. It was good, and I enjoyed it, most days, but it wasn’t what God made me to do, and for me to keep doing it for bad reasons was sin.

My life, and all our lives I’d bet, are filled with good things. Things that sometimes prevent us from doing the best things. For me, I read those words and decided that nothing should stop me from pursuing what I believe God created me to do: work with his church to make his name shine in our communities, nation, and the world.

Since then, I’ve stepped out in faith (think Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade) to work at Skillman. I’m focusing on three aspects: community partnerships, leadership development, and mission involvement. So, if you’re interested in serving our neighborhood by cooking food, tutoring, or hanging out with some needy kids, let me know. If you are excited about the possibility of teaching or preaching God’s truth, let’s talk. Maybe you’ve felt pulled to cross some boundaries and live with people who aren’t like you so they can see Jesus, too.

We need to chat. Let’s find out what God made you for.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

As Kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves--goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying What I do is me: for that I came.
I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is--
Christ. For Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men's faces.

Silence, Shame

We always

Smile

Never

Cry

Laugh as we die

No one

Needs

To know our business

We sustain

Silence

From generation to generation

We

Say

How this pains me so

But no one can know

I’ll never forget

Dad says

“Never let them see you sweat”

Oh, but whispered

History

Is a rag soaking this in

A 16 year-old labors

To bear her uncle’s child

Sisters fragmented

Reveal shame-stories through

Poisoned intention

Until

All that is heard

Are the

Scrape slide

Scrape slide

Of forks on

Bad china and

Rice and peas gliding

Gummy down regretful throats

I’ll never forget

Dad says

“Never let them see you sweat”

Until

Brother’s gone mad

Sister’s gone missing

Auntie’s obsessed with

Which man we’re kissing

Until

Grandmother dies

Didn’t know her real name

One girl’s not by the casket

The daughter of shame

But

That’s okay

We always

Smile

Never

Cry

Laugh as we die

No one

Needs

To know our business

But don’t we?

Family?

We sustain

Silence

But

No one

Ever

Forgets

We smile

And we laugh

We scrape

And we glide

Through

Birth and

Through

Death

We

Worship

Our

Pride

Grown Folks' Safety

When I was a kid, safety looked like the approval in my mom’s eye as she looked over my homework. It tasted like the crust-less peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches lovingly prepared by my grandma’s hands. Calm and comfort sounded like Daddy’s chatter-whistles as he called squirrels over for us to feed in the park. Safety felt like the heft and softness of my down comforter, right after my parents tucked me in, kissed my on the forehead, and turned my nightlight on.

And yes, safety was believing. Knowing, simply and truly, that yes, Jesusloves me, for the Bible – and my parents – told me so.

I long for the safety of my childhood. At the same time, it eludes me. Especially now, as my husband and I redefin(anc)e terms like ‘necessity’ and ‘luxury’, I understand better how the cares of this world can choke the life out of a person. I mean, ‘safety’ becomes car insurance, health insurance, life insurance; a steady job, a house, and at least one car. Safety gets bigger than a PB&J and feeding squirrels, and balloons to needing consistent proof of our spouse’s love, approval and upward mobility at work, popularity at school, living in a good neighborhood, and driving a Volvo.

I long for the unwavering certainty of wellbeing I used to have in these very uncertain circumstances. But I’m thinking that God made it so that safety cannot exist without the presence of danger. I’m sure Daniel felt that way in the lions’ den (Daniel 6). And Moses, right before the whole Red-Sea-on-one-side-and-pursuing-Egyptians-on-the-other episode (Exodus 14:5-29). And Esther in the king’s court (Esther 4:9-17, 7:1-10).

And Jesus, in the tomb, on the 2nd day.

The irony is, I can trace God’s protection and care after the trial is over. After the car that swerved into my lane somehow misses me. After the car repairs are paid for when we thought we couldn’t swing it. After he broke my heart, and I survived. It’s the trial that has heightened my awareness of God’s presence. And when I remember God’s presence in the last test, I am able to face the next one with more hope.

I’m not yet at that place where I’m thankful for the trial. And the endings don’t always seem happy, either. I have scars left where my heart was broken. The joy for me is in the fact that the Lord is there, a confidante, to listen, to witness my wounds, and to lift me up. My gratitude comes from knowing that Jesus is no foreigner to scars, and the Father has known loss and disappointment. What unfathomable mercy, that the Holy Spirit would intercede for me, even communicating and knowing my groanings.

I think safety does not come from the prevention of trouble, but in the presence of people who love you and have your back, whether that means taking the crust off of your sandwich or praying for you and with you, through the struggle. Grown folk’s safety (which I aspire to consistently believe) is confidence in being kept in the hand of God Himself; in spite of circumstances that make the media panic.

I know that these are hurting times for many people. I also can’t help but think of how our Father can use these circumstances to grow us up in our dependence on Him, and build a testimony that glorifies Him.

Yes, Jesus loves us. The Bible – and the trial we just got through – tells us so.