Feeling very déjà vu. I'm in Dulles airport heading back to Honduras. I started this blog with my first adventure to Honduras and now I am continuing with a second albeit vastly shorter trip. This time I'm bringing a friend... And am ready for the sultry hot air that is going to hit me in the face as I get off that final flight and step into Latin America! Well here goes!!

A bunch of us hiked to the Balanced Rock last week!

Spring is finally here again!!!

Why do people leave the church?

I've moved on to the ecclesiology section of my doctrinal statement - the end is now in sight!!!! - and in the middle of some research, I came across an interesting quote:
"I would therefore suggest that the main reason people leave a church is because they have an entitlement mentality rather than a servant mentality."  
(Here's a link to the full article: http://thomrainer.com/2013/01/21/the-main-reason-people-leave-a-church/ *Please note that though I have cited the source, I cannot at this time give an endorsement of the gentleman that wrote it, since this is the first article of his that I have read.)

I agree with Mr. Rainer on this one; the church has been pervaded by the mentality of entitlement. Quite an accurate description, really. We have mastered the art of self-centeredness, thinking we deserve everything exactly as we'd like it, and not considering what is best for all involved. And when things don't go our way, we feel no shame in moving right along to the next thing, or in this case, church.

I'm not here to condemn but to challenge both you, my reader, and myself. I'm vested in my church; I want it to keep growing. But I know that can only happen if the people that enter its doors have a desire to give and serve and be changed more like Christ. So I ask you, what kind of mentality do you have towards your church? Do you come to church seeking to serve others, to give of your talents and gifts so that other believers can be edified and encouraged? Or do you come to church every Sunday expecting only to get, and criticizing all the imperfections you see? Can I encourage you that you will receive a much greater blessing if you enter the church doors ready and willing to invest and be a blessing to others?

A Weighty Subject

I've been working full steam these last few weeks on my doctrinal statement, the final step of my application. It has been exciting to dig deep and flesh out on paper exactly what I believe, and I am very thankful to have kept notebooks from my college doctrine classes, as well as having the world wide web for resources!

Tonight, however, was quite sobering. I just completed the section on what I believe about hell. Talk about weighty. I didn't write or learn anything new (other than which verses I'm basing my beliefs on), but to sit here and read what I just wrote is powerful. Scary. Because I believe with my whole heart that hell is literal, it's physical, and it's unending torment in a lake of fire. And people I know and have contact with every single day are headed there, unless they know and believe on my Savior.

I can't help but ask. Do you know Jesus? Know the One who chose to die for you, so you could stand forgiven in front of the throne of the Almighty God?

And for you, believer, I have a quote I came across today that reflects both my thoughts and ongoing conversations with a kindred spirit, and convicts after studying what the Bible says about hell. Here it is:

"Perhaps if there were more of that intense distress for souls that leads to tears, we should more frequently see the results we desire. Sometimes it may be that while we are complaining of the hardness of the hearts of those we are seeking to benefit, the hardness of our own hearts and our feeble apprehension of the solemn reality of eternal things may be the true cause of our want of success."      ~Hudson Taylor

The fragility of life

It seems like I'm sharing a lot of poetry right now, but sometimes poetry just has a way of speaking to the depths of one's soul, of gripping one's heart with truth. Tonight I share a poem from Stanislaw Baranczak.

"If china, then only the kind
you wouldn't miss under the mover's shoes 
        or the treads of a tank;
if a chair, then one that's not too comfortable, or
you'll regret getting up and leaving;
if clothes, then only what will fit in one suitcase;
if books, then those you know by heart;
if plans, then the ones you can give up 
when it comes time for the next move
to another street, another continent or epoch
or world,
Who told you to settle in?
Who told you this or that would last forever?
Didn't anyone ever tell you that you'll never 
in the world
feel at home here?"

Life is temporary and fragile. Sometimes we forget that our lives our a vapor that could pass away in an instant. I'm not promised the next year, day, or even the next breath. I don't usually stop to ponder the fact that this could be my last night on this earth. But on another level, as a Christian, the question haunts: "Who told you to settle in? Who told you this or that would last forever?"

Prayer from a little seed

I read this tonight and saw myself. And so I pray these words heartfelt, knowing that God is calling me out of my little controlled "pot" to grow and bear fruit somewhere past my little horizons, to the place where He is leading me. 

A grain of seed, Lord.
Tiny. Inert.
The tight-turned, curled embryo
held hard within.
Straightjacketed by winter waiting.
Yet in your purposes
destined for life and growth.
Ready to reach for light,
expand, spread branches.
Leaf, bud, and fruit.

The kingdom of heaven,
like a grain of seed.
The kingdom of heaven, in me.
Its seed tight-packed.
Restricted in the shell of my inertia.
The warmth of your Spirit
prompts it to life.
But when it stirs,
sets root, and starts to grow,
I hold it back.
I feel its movement apprehensively.
I can’t see your purposes.
My horizon is too small and limited
because I keep my head too low,
look down too much.
I prune and chop
and starve your kingdom’s tree,
hoping to hold it,
controlled and tidy,
in a little pot of my own choosing.

But still it grows.
Pushing its gentle way irresistibly
between the hard stones of my life.

Lord, help me to sweep away
the sand of fear
blown, hard and persistently,
heaping unbelief in drifts across my life.
Help me to feel
in the prompting of new growth,
the excitement, the hope and tension,
of your Spirit’s purposes.
And when I don’t understand
just where it's leading to,
help me to welcome it.

Eddie Askew (Facing the Storm)