Calling for Help

The girls are at it again; tempers rise and wining begins. Taking a bath at the end of the day results in comments like, “I can’t do it! Why can’t we just take one tomorrow? I wanna go home!” Going to the undesired activity produces responses such as, “Why do we have to do this? We never get to do anything fun. It’s not fair!!!”

While the Adventurer girls fuss and whine, I find myself sending up a desperate prayer:

“God help me!”

Perhaps they are the most common and, above that, the most important words a counselor can utter.

As a counselor, one learns that there are some things that can be “handled” by yourself but even more that are out of your control. You may decide that the day is going to be great fun out on the lake but…then it starts raining and your campers begin complaining about staying inside. Or you want to have a special worship one evening but…it takes you forever to arrive back at the cabin after campfire and by the time everyone is showered and ready for worship, 11:00 pm has come and gone. And in that madding rush, don’t forget to set your alarm for 5:30 am!

It’s during those times when nothing seems to be going your way and the campers are revealing their true colors that you realize anew that you’re really not cut out for this job. Your credentials may have looked nice but nothing could have prepared you for camp. Pretty fast you figure out that there is no way you will get through this summer by your own strength. And that is when we send up the prayers for help, when all hell seems ready to break loose.

But why?

Why do we wait until the storm has hit and the waves are rolling to call for Jesus’ help?

Maybe it’s because we are just like the disciples on Lake Galilee. The moment that storm began to form, they could have wakened Jesus and said, “Lord, we think we’re pretty experienced fishermen and have battled many a storm, but we need your help anyways.” But no, they decided to battle the winds and the rains until just before the boat was about to sink and then cry, “Lord, we’ve tried to battle this storm by ourselves for quite some time but now we’re going to die so help us now, okay?!”

Calling on God for help before things become chaotic is something that I know I need to work on. I’m the type that hates to ask anyone for a favor unless I know there is no way I can do something without them. Even then whenever I ask I feel horrible about asking. Although I know asking God for help is never a bother to Him, it’s still in my nature to go through the day trying to rely on my strength and power.

The thing is, God shouldn’t just be God of the storms and trials but also the God of the peace and the calm. Jesus should be Lord of our lives when our world seems to be coming apart but also when we have a world of wonderful possibility in front of us. He’s our help in time of trouble but He is just as powerful and essential in time of joy.

During one of those times of trouble here at camp, I send out a text message to friends asking for prayer and one of my friends Christine reminded me of a verse I had learned in Sabbath School many years before. “Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit says the Lord of Host.”

This is easy to believe when it’s obvious that there was no way we could have done something by ourselves but do we believe this even when it seems like everything is all going according to our plans and wishes? Do we really believe that it’s only by the power of God that we can do any true good in this world?

Opportunity Knocks

The Christmas lights have been turned out. Even the girl’s flashlight have been put away and all is peace and quiet. The camper’s bags have been packed and on top of their beds sit their clothes for tomorrow, the day when they finally get to see their parents or guardians again! “12:17 am”, my clock tells me as I lay down to sleep. It’s been a late night with the special “girl’s party” we had to close out the week and then story telling as they fell into exhausted sleep. But I’m not quite ready for bed.

Silently, I walk to each girl’s bed. Gently, I place my hands on their shoulder and softly whisper a prayer for each of these girls, my girls for the week. They’re so tiny, the youngest being only 7 and the oldest not quite 10. So much of life they have seen yet how much more they have yet to face. As I pray, I wonder what battles each one may someday face. There’s no telling so although I pray for some things specifically, the rest of my words paint broad strokes over their future lives.

I walk back to my bed and sit down on the edge. I know I need to go to sleep but these girls are still on my mind, and one questions keeps ringing in the back of my mind.

“Have I done enough?”

I try to push it aside as I feel tears gathering in my eyes but now that I’ve begun to wonder, there’s no getting rid of the questions.

“Was I always Jesus to them? Did I always reveal His love to them?”

“Were all their questions answered and were the answers I gave easy enough to understand and take to heart?”

“What opportunities did I miss because I was too tired or busy? Was one of my girls ready to accept Jesus when a mistake of my own distracted her from that choice?”

“Did I give it my all? Did I do all that I could?”

At times I know I could have done more. Perhaps someone with more Biblical knowledge could have given better answers and someone more in tuned to the Holy Spirit could have seen opportunities I might have missed.

Yet it’s not the opportunities missed that we focus on. Yes, they’re important to acknowledge and avoid in the future, but the opportunities capitalized on are what have the most value and prepare us for further work.

It’s the deep talks about the God’s gift of freewill as we walked back from the night time meetings that the girls would continue to ask questions about and eventually begin repeating it back to me and the other campers as similar questions came up throughout the week.

It’s the canoeing trips for fun turned into conversation about the purpose of baptism and how salvation and baptism fit together.

It’s the simple questions, such as what did a picture of a snake and a piece of fruit have to do with the Bible that turned into a retelling of the plan of salvation for a girl who didn’t know that story very well.

Now as another week rolls along, I pray that God will show me similar opportunities to reach my girls this week. Will I miss the mark sometimes? Probably, but I trust that God is a big enough God to cover my mistakes and reveal Himself to each camper this week.

Worthless Gold

Gold was everywhere! Splendor and beauty (and a bit of creepiness, too) dazzled the eyes. Every corner seemed to vie for your attention.

Yet all I saw was complete emptiness.

All completely worthless.

For our day off on Thursday, our group traveled to the city of Salvador to sightsee in one of the oldest cities in Brazil. Walking the streets of historic Salvador was in a way, stepping into a different time. Many of the building and streets could have been located in Spain and besides the clothing of the people around you, one felt like they were on a movie set. And the people milling about certainly were interesting to watch (from a human statue getting his paint on to a cross-dressing man.) Yet these interesting people were not what struck me that day.

Instead, it was a church.

The São Francisco Church was unlike anything I had seen before. Nearly every inch of this cathedral was overlaid with gold. From every corner was statues of angels and men staring down at you and watching your every move. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows as our group marveled at such an interesting place.

As I took pictures something kept ringing in my mind. Year after year people had come to this place, magnificent yet cold and dark, trying to win the favor of God. The reason for all the gold was again to earn the good will of their God. Did those who worshiped there feel unimportant and completely out of place in this cathedral, causing them to believe that they were barely on the mind of God and that He could never accept them? How many people decided to give up their faith because they realized that this kind of God isn’t worth serving or believing in? How many people went to their graves, giving all their money to the church and still wondering if they had earned the grace of God?

Yet all the gold in the world could never win His favor. No place of worship we build can ever earn us an honored place in heaven. You see, God is not like the cathedral we found in Salvador. You don’t have to whisper when you approach His throne. Every burden on your heart can be poured out to Him even if it includes tears and questioning. While God is magnificent, He revealed Himself to us as a poor, humble man. God doesn’t wait for us to come to Him through our own good works because He has already come down to us. Even though He has more majesty and glory than any earthly mind can imagine, He tells us that we can come boldly before His throne and that despite our shortcomings He still wants us to be a part of His kingdom.

So Tell Me about Brazil...

            “How many baptisms did you have?” Oh, how I dread this question. As people tell me of double digit numbers ready to take the steps towards baptism, I think back to my church. About the number I have to “show.” None. Nada. Not a single one. So tell me, does this make me a failure? Have I completely failed at the work God had for me to do in increasing the number of Adventists in Brazil?

            Originally I wasn’t assigned to the Caseb church. In the confusion of the first night, Christine and I were mixed up and sent to the “wrong” churches. I didn’t realize this mistake until I arrived back and Christine informed me of the fact. Both of us were uncertain of how we should proceed and prayed that evening and morning that God would show us what we should do (either switch back to our original churches or stay in the church we had arrived at.) In the end, we decided to stay in our churches, knowing that God could work though this "mistake."

            My church didn’t have any extra ordinary experiences while I was there. We never had people weeping over their sins or people walking up at the end of the meeting proclaiming that they were going to completely turn their lives around. No, the people whose lives were impacted were not those who had never heard the Gospel. It was the lives of young children, 20-year-members, and also me.

            When I first walked into my church on Friday night, I quickly looked around to see if there were any children. Studying to be an Elementary teacher, I was hoping to interact with children of that age. While there was a group of high school aged young people, I didn’t see a single child in the audience. As the other preachers reunited with stories of all the adorable children in their church, I wondered why God had put me in a church with so few children. Even after meeting more children in my church on Sabbath morning, I felt as though there was not an easy way to communicate with them, knowing very little Portuguese. Yet though drawing, giving of gifts, talking through my translator, and simply giving hugs after every meeting, we became friends and when I had to leave, they were some of the people that I hated to leave the most. Even though they were young, they would pay attention during the meeting. One night as I was giving an altar call for those to come forward who wanted to accept Jesus, Camille, a 12 year old girl, was the first to come up.

            It wasn’t just the young who seemed impacted by the meetings. People who had been going to church for years were touched by God’s Spirit. After preaching the final sermon about Heaven, my translator told me that a man who had been going to church for 20 years had come up to him afterwards and said that he had heard this sermon in a completely new way and that it had moved him to tears. While talking about the reunion we will experience when Jesus comes back, both with those who have died in Jesus and those who are now separated by oceans, tears were shed by many, including myself, as we all found ourselves looking forward to that glorious day.

            You see, I was changed as well. I have a whole different understanding of what ministry is all about, and I’m not talking about the preaching aspect of ministry. Yes, I learned a lot about how sermons should be preached through trial and error, and I certainly gained insight from my local church as I participated in visitations. However, what I realized how ministry cannot be defined simply as the act of preaching or visiting people’s homes. Ministry is a lifestyle that is constantly happening and cannot be stopped even for an instant. I also learned that ministry is exhausting. It’s one of the most rewarding things you can ever do and there is a special energy I believe God gives, but ministry also can completely drain you if you don’t take time to rest and recharge your relationship with God. You can be so involved with God’s work that you actually feel as though you don’t have time to spend in communion with Him.

            I leave Brazil with a heavy heart but a heart filled with love for the people in Brazil. Having left brothers and sisters in Christ at the Caseb church, I praise God that He put me in the “wrong” church. There is not a doubt in my mind that the mix-up that took place was actually God's original plan.

But, have I failed in my ministry because I did not baptize any new members? First off, isn't this question flawed? It is never “I” who has success in ministry. Secondly, when has success for God only been measured by baptisms? Yes, the purpose of mission campaigns may be to baptize people into the Adventist church, yet success cannot be measured by such small standards. Echoed during multiple morning meetings with our group was the fact that we won’t necessarily see the results of our labor. So even with “nothing to show,” nothing has changed the passion in my heart for ministry. This has confirmed more than ever that I want my career to be my ministry, that there is no other way I could ever be happy with anything else. Mission work isn’t just for “heathens” but is also for the church as well. Those of us in the church can be touched and changed no matter how many times we hear the Gospel story.

            And that my friends is the power of the Gospel! It never grows old or runs dry. No matter how many times we speak of Christ’s love, we can still be amazed at the depth that it reaches and the width that it stretches. So even though every night for the past two weeks I’ve talked about this amazing God and His ever reaching love, my mouth still wants to speak of His love and my hands want to reveal His character to every person I meet.