An Open Letter to Those Who Feel Unqualified to Offer Counsel

"Dear believer,

The body of Christ needs you. It needs your words and deeds. That is simply part of the deal when you follow Jesus. The apostle Paul wrote, “encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing” (1 Thessalonians 5:11). You are already speaking encouraging words and building people up. Now keep doing it, more intentionally, more skillfully, more prayerfully—when a child scuffs her knee, when a friend is separated from a spouse, when depression strikes a person you know, or when someone has been diagnosed with cancer.

The Lord specializes in using people who feel weak in themselves.

If you feel inadequate to help others in need, especially those with more complicated problems, that is a perfect qualification. The Lord specializes in using people who feel weak in themselves, and your sense of inadequacy will probably protect you from saying something unhelpful. We are usually unhelpful when we are confident that we know what another person needs to hear.

You already know the basics of help and encouragement. First, you have to move toward the other person, which is sometimes the hardest thing to do. You have to talk together and hear what is important to the person. Next, let the person know that you have them on your heart—you are with them and are moved by what they are going through. That might be enough for one day. You have built up the body of Christ.

If there are awkward silences or if you are inclined to go further, you can ask, “Could you suggest ways that I could pray for you?” If you are concerned that such a question could sound like a spiritual platitude, remember that it is only trite if you are not really interested or are not actually going to pray. If the person is on your heart and you are praying for them, you have given them a great gift.

Christian Marriage- "A Wonderful Grace of Life"

Andrea and I have known the Jungles family for 10+ years now.  They are as faithful of a family as you will find (Eph 5-6).  They are the kind of sheep that making shepherding a joy- and not grievous to the soul (per Heb. 13:17).  Even though we now live in Wisconsin they remain good friends.  We are blessed to know them.

It was my wife and I's great joy to do biblical, pre-marital counseling with Anna Jungles (who we've known for a decade) and with her husband to be- Justin Hauck (who we now know better). 

By the time you finish premarital counseling you want to feel confident that the "couple to be" understands why God invented marriage, what their respective roles are, etc.  We are excited to celebrate with them next Saturday.  Christian marriage is surely one of the wonderful "graces of life." 

We believe the Lord has brought them together to "have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do they part!"

Come With Me to an African Funeral

My D. Min, pastor/missionary friend Paul sent me this compelling article this week.  One doesn't need to buy into critical race theory in order to effectively reach people for Jesus.  The gospel and the Christian faith transcends cultures, "races," and everything in between.  See for yourself.  Come With Me to An African Funeral-  "A couple weeks ago, a 14-year-old in a nearby village died suddenly of a brain aneurism. The family members were not churchgoers so they asked me to do the funeral.  If you are unfamiliar with the African view of funerals and the history of white-black relations in South Africa, it’s difficult to fully appreciate the significance of this family’s decision.  If African social gatherings were trees, funerals would be a forest of Sequoias shooting straight from the center of village life. In funerals, Tsongas live, and move, and have their being. They invest extreme amounts of time, money, and planning into the deceased. Week-long gatherings often culminate with a 6am to noon Saturday burial service.

To attend the internment of their dead is one thing. To preach and officiate is another. Whites in South Africa don’t live in rural black villages. Ever. Not farmers, not missionaries, not teachers. Combined with the fumes of decades old apartheid, the idea of a white man conducting a funeral in the local dialect is absurd.

Yet here I was, a half-dozen funerals conducted since ’06, and a participant in a hundred more. How did this happen?

THE LONG ROAD TO GET HERE

It took years of humbling. In the early days of village ministry I ministered with my shoelaces tied together—tripping over language, customs and a host of other cultural obstacles.  I didn’t understand why such pomp and circumstance was wasted on a funeral. I knew cynically that some of those wailing and writhing in the dirt hadn’t visited the now deceased in half a decade. “Just a show, this is.” My language wasn’t very good either. I didn’t know when to say “died” and when to say “passed”, when to use humor and when not, when to use my vehicle and when to walk, what passages of Scripture breezed by their minds and which verses grabbed them by the lapels. This takes years, something short-term missionaries can’t attain.

I began to view the funeral through a gospel lens. I learned to shoulder the plow of cultural expectations. To succeed as a missionary, I had to button up my chinstrap and get in the game. The people began to see I was staying here for keeps.