I tend to be very protective of my time. The kids are involved in limited outside activities, we eat dinner together at home, and we plan days where we have no plans. 

I want to keep things simple. I want to enjoy the time I have with my children and my husband. 

But mostly...

 I want to be able to say YES.

When it really matters.

When does it matter for me? When the kiddos need a little extra love.

When Husband needs help with a tough decision.

When a friend needs an ear or a shoulder. When a neighbor needs a hand.

When God chooses me. When He tells me GO.

Man oh man do I still grumble about it a lot from time to time. Even when I have made time, the selfish, ugly bits make all kinds of excuses for why I shouldn’t then have to give it away. IT’S MINE! I scream it so loudly the inside of my brain is throbbing with the reverberation.

But at the end of it all, when the two year old temper tantrum is finished, I am left standing with a choice. I can focus inward or outward. My choice changes frequently. There are many times when I truly need to focus inward, take care of my own soul, in order to have the strength to care for others’. And then there are the times when I know what needs to be done. No amount of whining will change it.

So I put on my big girl pants and wrap my time in a cute package with a frilly ribbon, and I give it away.

And that, friends, is my treasure. A blessing beyond description. Never to be stolen. Stored in heaven, with no regrets. Not a single one.

Good morning Surgeons!

We're beginning our series called, Blue Collar, today is God, the Roto-Rooter.  Our special is Florence and the Machine, Kiss with a Fist.

About a year ago, our lives began a change. A big one. God was calling us to be actively involved, to be used as catalysts in this change. I wasn’t ready, and I ignored it for a very long time.




















Eventually, though, I understood that I was meant to say





YES.

HERE I AM.

I WILL GO.

Guess what? The same thing happened to my husband. We didn’t talk about it until one day, months and months later, I told him I needed to talk to him about something. And he said, “I know what it’s about.” Turns out he had been ignoring the same thing for a long time as well.

Freaky, right?

It was clear in the next several moments that we needed to say yes.

To what?  To opening our homes, hearts, and lives to give a family to a boy who has none. To show him a love he has never had before, and to teach him the source of that love.

Soon, likely in the next six months, we will once again become parents. To a 13 year old boy who currently lives in Beijing, China.

We have very few answers, other than an overwhelming peace with the decision. We trust in God, our Creator and Protector. We have the resources and the time to make this happen.


Our lives will never be the same. And we can’t wait.

This doesn't make us awesome, just willing. In the moment that we were called to be used, we were given the courage to say yes. Even after all the denials, the ignoring, and the running away, God was patient. And persistent. And He still wanted to use us, even in our brokenness. So now, we are blessed to be a part of His unending love for His children. 

All of them.

Good morning Surgeons!  Here are our announcements for July 22nd:

- Finishing Catalyst Series: God the Change Agent
- Our Special today is the Beatles - Revolution
- Extra Thanks the host families for our CIY group, they are doing great work
- We had a lovely SAW event last night - Tom Dews and Rachel Cross were outstanding
- Next week we're starting our Blue Collar Series, beginning with God, the Roto-Rooter - don't miss it!

That's it - thanks all!
~The Surge

Writing Lot was a challenge on two primary levels.  First, he's more of a role player making an occasional appearance around the story of Abraham.  Second, his story is a sad one.  He doesn't (at least not in the biblical account) make a triumphant rebound like Joseph, or Gideon.  Lot's story is one of loss, betrayal by his family and is an also ran in many ways.  We know his name because of the things that happened around him.  His story is a stark counterpoint to the larger than life steps of Abraham... and nations did not come from Lot.

And yet, by all appearances, he remained faithful, in spite of his suffering and less than magnificent circumstance.  I'm a sucker for the happy ending and it wasn't until I really got into his shoes that I realized he had one.  It wasn't in this life... but God puts his finger on the scales in the end and I believe in my heart that Lot will stand in a place of honor with God forever.

As endings go, that one will work.

       Here's Lot:

Some stories don't have a beautiful ending.

I can still feel the angels' hands pulling us urgently out of the city. They told us to never look back. They told us!

In a moment, the shape of my life twisted. I no longer had a loving wife to grow old with me. I wouldn't get to lay her to rest in a cave, adorned by flowers and incense and song. She was pulled from my side on the day of His judgment, without honor and without appeal. The salt from my tears is a stinging reminder of her turning away from God to look back. She turned away from us as well, from my daughters and me. That horrible moment is burned in my memory forever.

Even then, the divine hands of the supernatural gripped me tightly, strengthening me beyond my ability to bear it. It was firm but loving in an understanding kindness that swept us along, step upon step to safety. But she was still lost to me.

We didn't have the child of promise. My daughters are far from God and drifting. I don't know if that will ever change. They were widowed that day, too. My sorrow is like the stars in the sky and the sand beside the sea, thoughts of sadness without number.

My story is not one of success or greatness or legacy. My children are not the stuff God will use to build the nations. My story is the sad tale of an average man who is steadfast and wholly committed to God. In spite of faith, my days here will end in heartbreak and sorrow. I would give almost anything to have Abraham's story, to have the tragedy averted in the last moment as God brings provision and blessing.  To have the circumstances reversed and the one who loses everything finds God's blessing and provision and power.

For me, that isn't how it was written.

My men have left me for better work. My flocks have dwindled. My wife is gone. My daughters executed an evil scheme to get what they wanted, though I don't remember it.

My palace is a forgotten cave, secluded and alone and here is where I die. I have been faithful to God, but my story is one of the hardest lessons of all.

I grieve my loss and my family, but you must know that I don't grieve as one who has no hope. I trust Him. And I will continue to trust Him. Do you understand why?

Abraham told me of the conversation he had with God over Sodom and Gomorrah, after it was all over.

What if there are 50 righteous people?

What if there are 10 righteous people? 

And if He didn't say it, I still think God's heart was clear enough.

What if there is one righteous person?

That person was me.

God sent angels to rescue my family and me. In the Day of Judgment and destruction, He sent us help from heaven itself. It wasn't just for Abraham; God came because of His love for me.

He loves me.

He loves me as much as He loves Abraham. When I lie with my fathers and these eyes close for good, I will stand on the shores of eternity with my uncle at my side... and I will glorify God and enjoy Him forever. That doesn't make it easy, but it does give me hope.

Some stories don't have a beautiful ending.

Don't lose heart. Some stories are finally beautiful, but their beauty lies beyond the chapter of what we know, told in His words, beyond what we can see.

"So when God destroyed the cities of the plain, he remembered Abraham, and he brought Lot out of the catastrophe ..." (Genesis 19:29a).

Good morning Surgeons!

- Continuing our Catalyst Series, today is "God the Equipment Manager"
- Tim "the Crusher" Jones is in the house!
- And... Special thanks to Tim for joining us today...
- Next SAW concert is this coming Saturday July 21st, cheesecake, coffee, music and a great event - bring a friend, 7pm at the Barn (corner of Kirby and Westmoreland)
- Thank for you generosity, we care more about you than about your money... but we do have expenses and investing in the kingdom of God is an investment that gives great returns forever
- Next week we're continuing our Catalyst series, talking about God, the Change Agent

Thanks - we'll see you soon!
~The Surge

Restored for God's people

Joseph and Nicodemus had buried Jesus. So when Mary came and told us what she had seen and heard, John and I raced to see for ourselves.

Was it possible? Would even death bow before my friend?

When we finally saw Him with our eyes, you've never seen a room ignite with more joy or hope.  Emotionally it was a tempest, from the betrayal of my denials and guilt to the hope that He could somehow be alive again, to sadness and confusion as to where I stood. There was a lot I still didn't understand. Still, it was so good to see Him again. Everything would be ok, as long as He was with us.

Days turned into weeks and our hope grew into a sense of building expectation. Something was coming, we could feel it in our bones, but it wasn't clear what or when. I was restless and I wanted to fish. I wanted to clear my head and lose myself in the rhythm of the familiar. John and a few others decided to join me.

We didn't catch anything that night and in a private joke of fate, a figure in the distance asked if we had caught any fish. We told him we hadn't as he suggested we put our nets to the other side of the boat. It wasn't lost on any of us. We had been here before. 

When the fish struck, John voiced what we were all thinking. It was Him and I was through waiting. I was all done with uncertainty and hesitation. I leapt into the cool water and swam to shore as the weight of the moment continued to build. Eating fish and bread in silence, we simply enjoyed the warmth of the morning.

When we had finished eating, He spoke to me.

"Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these?"

The word for love He used was agapeo, the divine love that knows no bounds. If He had asked me, even a few days ago, I would have boldly said yes to that one. But I had stumbled, and I knew that I didn't love Him like that. My voice wavered and tears came unbidden to my eyes. Lord, you know that I love you. But it was phileo, the deep and authentic and cautious love of a friend.

"Feed my lambs."

Again He said, "Simon son of John, do you truly agapeo me?"

Agapeo. I couldn't bring myself to say it back to Him. I love You as a dearest friend. I love You more than anything. But I don't love You divinely; my denial of You is proof enough.  I love You, but I am painfully aware that I'm not the man You want me to be.

Jesus' response came again, "Take care of my sheep."

He asked a third time, "Simon son of John, do you phileo me?"

He used the word phileo, and it broke my heart. I don't know if it was because I wanted so badly to participate in that divine love, or if it was just the nature of affirming Him three times to unmake my threefold denial. Either way, it was the faithful wounding of a friend and not the cruel jab of revenge.  God meets us where we are, to lead us where He wants us to go. So be it.

Lord, You know all things. You know that I phileo You.

He smiled and touched my arm, "Feed my sheep." And He went on to speak of things to come. His love brought me back to myself. I could feel His forgiveness and restoration. I could feel the calling of His purpose. I felt the focus of being exactly where I needed to be finally settle into my heart and mind, even my very soul.

God has called me to speak His words to this generation. I know He is with me, that He knows me better than I know myself, that He has prepared me for this time. I will speak where I was silent. I will move with Him, instead of acting impetuously on my own. I am His completely, no longer a fisherman ... but a shepherd for His people and His presence.

It wasn't the death of a dream. It was just the beginning.

"Therefore let all Israel be assured of this: God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Christ." When the people heard this, they were cut to the heart and said to Peter and the other apostles, "Brothers, what shall we do?"  

Peter replied, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call." With many other words he warned them; and he pleaded with them, "Save yourselves from this corrupt generation." 

Those who accepted his message were baptized, and about 3,000 were added to their number that day" (Acts 2:36-41).

Good morning Surgeons!  Here are our announcements for July 8th, 2012:

- We are continuing our Catalyst Series, this week is "God the Matchmaker" and we'll talk about how He brings people together in interesting ways...
- If you're visiting, please fill out a connection card and drop it in the offering boxes in the back.

- CIY kids are in town this week!  Thanks for the families who are hosting and keep them in your prayers.
- Good to have power back... if we ever have questions about whether or not we're meeting, or any kind of emergency update, check online or on Facebook if you can, we'll post any updates there.
- Selma Nunes was commissioned last weekend as our new Pastor of Youth and Outreach... we're looking forward to great things from her!  If you're interested in being an adult sponsor, contact her and she'll get you connected.
- Next SAW Event is Saturday, July 21st, beginning at 7pm, featuring Tom Dews and Rachel Cross.
- Don't forget that offering boxes are in the back, if we don't pay our electric bill, Dominion will shut down all of Northern Virginia again.
- Continuing our Catalyst Series next week with "God the Equipment Manager"... and Tim Jones will be with us!

Thanks,
The Surge

Second installment of the Stories of Sifted, Peter part II... enjoy! ~E

Broken by Shame

This dream was finally over.  We were about to wake up. 

Only a short time before, we had taken a short retreat to Caesarea Philippi. It's such a peaceful place, with the springs of water feeding into the Jordan and the sense of life in the land all around. We walked past the niches, with Pan and Echo singing songs over the shepherds and flocks. It was good to get away, and we took some much needed time to rest and recharge.

Wandering among the caves and stories in relief, I wondered if men would ever carve His likeness into stone and places of worship. Would we be with Him in those images? Would my song be immortalized in art and rock, bringing glory to God for thousands of years to come? Would I be carved into the place of honor at His right Hand? It seemed within our grasp.

At one point He asked us, "Who do men say that I am?"

The answers came in a staccato beat: Elijah, John the Baptist returned, one of the prophets come back to speak over Israel again. Looking at me, He asked us directly, "Who do you say that I am?" And suddenly I knew. It was like a fire in my mind. Everything we had seen, everything we had heard came together in the thunderclap of realization. The very Word of God burning in me caused my voice to surge like a river.

You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.

Jesus was right. It wasn't cleverness, or the available evidence that led me to believe He was the One.  God Himself spoke it over all of us in an instant. There was no possibility of doubting the truth of it.  And He named me. And His words were amazing.

I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church and the gates of hell will not stand against it.

He was Messiah and that truth would be the foundation of the new thing He was doing. The way He said it led me to believe that I, as Peter, would also be foundational to His work. I've never felt more honored or more excited to be a part of what God was doing.

It was why I was so confused when He told us of His coming death and execution. I pulled Him aside and passionately expressed what we were all feeling; that we would never allow that to happen. He immediately chastised me, angrily calling me an enemy and stumbling block.

I was crushed by His words, wondering what all of this could mean.

There are so many things I don't understand. When we saw Him Transfigured, I knew how it was going to end.

The Son of Man would move aside the veil of the ordinary and people would see Him for Who He really was. He would stand before the officials and with the weight of His voice he would lower them to their knees. The high priests would understand that Messiah had come and the entire region would rise up with one voice to support Him. The nation of Israel would stand to its feet and gather around God walking among us. The pieces would fall into place quickly after that.

Fully in power, the very awe of His presence would sweep aside the Roman legions come to contain Him, and we would go in force to the capital city. Satan had tempted Him with the nations earlier on, but then the time wasn't right. God works in mysterious ways and His timing is all His own.

We were going to Rome. It was inevitable. Nothing else made any sense.

He would stand before the Senate and their money and position and power and speeches would genuflect in utter baseness before the glory of the One True King. He would be revealed to everyone as He was revealed to us, and it would be undeniable. They would name Him and appoint Him to rule over all the earth. A thousand years of history had paved this road to a King and Kingdom that would know no end. The Pax Romana was the very handiwork of God, preparing the world as a farmer prepares a field. It was so close; I could feel the earth holding its breath in anticipation. The seeds of Messiah we had planted were about to bear fruit as the world had never seen.

Jesus would be Caesar.

And He would rule the earth with justice and wisdom and the love we had come to know. The little play emperors would tremble to speak His name aloud. The Counsels would proclaim that the Lord, He is God and would offer sacrifices. The nations would cease to be and we would all become one people under Him. He would be divine, not just in title or idea, but in sheer, utter reality and God's chosen people would be restored to the place He had prepared for us.

The Day of the Lord the prophets had spoken of was finally here. Your kingdom come, Your will be done indeed! We would be by His side to rule and reign with Him. I would sit at His right hand, surrounded by my brothers and friends. We would share this new day with Him. We were born for this moment in time.

As you enter the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow Him to the house that He enters, and say to the owner of the house, "The Teacher asks: Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?" He will show you a large upper room, all furnished. Make preparations there.

We found the room exactly like He said we would. But something was wrong. Not with the preparations for Passover, but with Jesus. He wasn't acting like the time for triumph had finally come; it was more like He was about to say goodbye.

We tasted bread from His Hands and drank wine from His cup. Jesus spoke of so many things, most of them we didn't understand. He spoke of suffering and death, of kingdoms and God's perfect plan, even of our place in the coming Kingdom. He spoke of betrayal and loss and hope, and then He spoke to me.

Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.

I boldly responded that I would never leave Him. Prison or death, come what will, I was His and would never turn away. He didn't take any pleasure in telling me that I would deny Him before the next morning came. The weight of His words made me believe Him, but in spite of that, I couldn't accept it. How could I betray Him?

I resolved to do anything but that.

We only had two swords, and I claimed one of them for myself.  When they came to arrest Him, I found myself looking at the moment as if it were from the outside. Time slowed down. It was time to act. 

This must not be allowed to happen. Drawing the sword I stepped in front of the Teacher and struck.  I could feel my heartbeat in my ears, a pounding rhythm that felt immediately wrong. I just couldn't see any other way forward.

Jesus immediately stopped me. The sharp crack of His voice froze all of us and immediately I was ashamed. He healed the man I had struck and let Himself be arrested and taken away. I was confused, and my heart was disoriented completely. Had we misunderstood? Things couldn't end this way. The dream of our movement seemed powerless and there was a sense of dread in the air.

I followed them at a distance.

When they took Him into the house of the high priest and the men started to gather, a murmuring crowd accumulated around the fires of the courtyard. I quietly moved in among them and sat, trying to listen for anything I could gather. I could see Him, but their voices were just far enough away to be indistinct.

A servant girl tilted her head at me and motioned to her friends saying, "This one was with Him." I told them she was mistaken, I didn't know the one they called Jesus. I held my breath and prepared to run if the others didn't believe me. They looked at me without understanding and the moment passed. People came and went, whispering rumors in the chilled night air. I shifted in my cloak and made myself as small as possible, watching and listening again.

A little later someone else recognized me as well. He pointed in my direction, "You are also one of them." I replied too loudly and too forcefully that I was not. Again, others turned in interest and I felt a cold wash of fear come over me as people moved away. They didn't want to be caught up in any trouble, and it was a dark night of fear and accusation.

The proceedings continued and the Sanhedrin was deliberating, arguing back and forth, though I still couldn't hear what they said. The people around me were speculating about Him. Most seemed to think He would be imprisoned for the heresy of His teachings, perhaps He would be beaten or fined.  Some time passed among the whispers before a newcomer entered our circle and with a short cynical laugh said, "Certainly this fellow was with Him, for he is a Galilean."

I vehemently denied knowing Him again and the sound that pierced my soul followed immediately after. Breathing heavily I looked past the people and their suspicious stares, meeting the eyes of Jesus Himself. He was looking right at me. I'll never forget the sadness written in the lines of His face, half in shadow, eyes dark and hurting. He turned back to the high priest, and I ran.

Pushing past the people gathered, I ran until I couldn't run anymore, breathing, shaking and in agony.  Seeking a place to hide, I sank into a shadowed corner. It wasn't supposed to end like this. A rapid flash of multiple scenes of memory surged through my mind, made poignant and vivid in my distress.

The nets that were suddenly, inexplicably full. The look on Andrew's face that communicated hope beyond measure. I saw again the blind man weeping at seeing the world for the first time. I felt the crowd gratefully taking fish and bread from my hands and buzzing about the miracle of His prayer and provision. I was surrounded again by the brightness of His glory as He spoke with Moses and Elijah. 

I heard His words that pierced to my heart.  I saw Him take on the Pharisees as they cowed before the weight and truth of His love.  I saw Him with the children. I walked out to Him on the water. I heard His words to me earlier that evening and felt my soul tear itself into pieces, sifting like wheat, separating in ways that I couldn't possibly survive. 

In my mind's eye, I denied Him again.  And again.  And again. 

The thing that hurt the most was the cold realization that my words around the fire were true.  The tears that had begun now turned into a wracking, shaking flood I couldn't hold back or stop.  My denials of my Lord and my God were true.  All of them were true...

I didn't know Him at all. 

It was the death of a dream.
 

"Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: "Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times." And he went outside and wept bitterly" (Luke 22:61b-62).