A Saturday of Dissonance

It’s the Saturday after Good Friday that caught my attention this year... the hour after gut-wrenching hour between Friday evening and Sunday morning where the disciples must have sat in a confused stupor.  These followers had just witnessed their hopes seemingly crushed on the cross the day before.  And now what?  With so many questions, so many creeping doubts, such heavy hearts, their victorious song of “Hosanna!” only days before ended in seeming dissonance.  And darkness.

I can only begin to imagine the painful line of questioning as their minds badgered their hearts:  

“What in the world?!  Wasn’t he supposed to lead us to victory?  This sure doesn’t look victorious to me.  What if I really am the idiot that my family thought I was for following this guy??….  No… no.  That can’t be.  I remember when he fed those thousands.  And when he brought Lazarus back from the dead?!  I mean, how can I deny what my eyes saw that day?  But those same eyes just saw him wrapped and taken to the grave.  Dead!  The tomb seems an odd throne for the Messiah.  And what was that he said about “This is my body; do this in remembrance of me.”?  Oh, how my head hurts.  I must have missed something, but what? What did I miss??   “Miss”???  I MISS him!  If he were here, he’d find a way with his stories to bring clarity to this confusion.  I used to love watching the teachers of the law squirm when they knew they’d been beat by his simple stories.  He sure did have a way with words… Words.  Words I won’t ever hear again.  This ache is gonna kill me.  I’m stuck forever between his Words and today’s reality!”

Can’t you just see it?  Practically despair!  

Have you experienced a “Saturday” like that?  One where you’ve contrasted His promises with your reality?  The battleground of your heart finds a war waged between His banner of Truth and the whispered lies of a deceiver who jumps on these Saturdays like a lion pouncing on prey,  ever ready to infiltrate our defenses with words dripping with doubt, fear, and disillusionment. Our enemy lives for Saturdays.  

But… Sunday.  

As the sun came up and the morning light revealed an EMPTY tomb and a Resurrected Savior, there came the much-anticipated consonance, the beauty of hope and victory as notes blending in a harmony that stretches across generations.  A song that can reach into our Saturdays and remind us of Sunday.  Let it’s hope-filled refrain echo, even when the darkness seems to absorb every bit of light.  Because “Hosanna” in both of its interpretations (a: “Save now,” or b: a shout of praise) will be a Song worth repeating until your eyes SEE the Sunday that your heart can only hear the day before.  

“So, hold on to what you believed in the light,

when the darkness has robbed you of all your sight.”

-Mumford and Sons

"Operation Hagar"

It seemed like a good idea at the time.  I mean, Sarah knew that God had made a promise to take Abraham’s seed and make it into a great nation.  But being a 70+ year old barren woman, Sarah squinted into the future and came up with the “perfect” solution to help God out in His great promise to her husband.  “Here Abraham, sleep with my maid servant, Hagar.  Produce an heir with her.”  Problem solved.  Right?

Wrong.  Most definitely wrong.  Even well intentioned, Sarah was short-circuiting the epic, divine story that God was weaving.  A miracle was coming in the form of the faintest of heartbeats in her aged womb.  God was going to keep His Word.  Fully.  Completely.  And without any “help” that would dilute the miraculous keeping of a covenantal promise into a watered-down, man-made “miracle.”  His Glory would be made evident to her, to Abraham, and to ALL who ever heard that the impossible- a son, Isaac- would be born by Abraham through her very own not-so-barren-after-all womb.  

And as I sit awake here at 1:30 a.m., I shake my head at how quickly I find myself in Sarah’s shoes... considering the short-cuts to “assist” in what appears to be God’s plan.  The end justifies the means, surely?  

But what does that say about my understanding of His character?  Is God so incapable without MY help?  Are His Mighty Hands not quite so strong?  Are the Arms that stretch the expanse of the universe unable to accomplish the workings of the Triune God without a little nudge from my own fingertips?  Would He fall short without my going before Him?  

I shudder at the arrogance- and the ignorance- of such thought.  What is my purpose?  Paul lays it out pretty plainly in his second letter to the church of Corinth:

“For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.  But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” (4:6,7)

A jar of clay.  Plain.  Dull.  Simple.  But formed by the Potter’s Hands, filled to the brim with the light of His very Glory through His Son, Jesus Christ.  Why?  Why have such a plain ol’ pot hold such indescribable greatness?  To reveal MORE of HIM.  To bring His Great Name the Glory due it.  And so that this lost world in desperate search for the light of Truth will see JESUS CHRIST in us, these little clay vessels who are only worthy simply because He made us worthy through the redemptive work of His Son.  

“Operation Hagar,” not tonight.  But barely.  Oh God, may I see You more and more as YOU ARE... 

Strong, Mighty, Moving.

And let me simply...

obey, reflect, follow...

YOU.  The only I AM.

May Your all-surpassing power be what’s poured out over my rough, blemished rim.  And may YOU receive the Glory in the miracles.

Tips and Quips: My Venture into Cloth Diapering

First off, I am by no means an expert in this arena.  Not by any stretch of the imagination... or the elastic waistband of Caleb’s bumGeniuses.  (Case in point, I accidentally sprayed myself in the face with the diaper sprayer the first time I used it.  Guess my sub-conscience knew that this sleep-deprived mama was in sore need of a shower...)  But I have had a few of my mama friends ask me how I was fairing in the world of cloth diaperhood.  So let me detail a few of the specifics and why we chose what we did.

Reasons We Crossed Over to the Cloth Side:

My primary reason for looking at cloth diapers was from the vantage point of our family wallet.  Disposables kicked bums and took names with regards to our budget!  At $40 a box every 2-4 weeks, three years in disposables is quite the investment.  I’ve read a bit of research that suggests that just 2 years in disposables costs a family $1600... and that’s not including the wipes.  And since our boys took a little longer to potty train, I was looking at over $2000 per kiddo!  And on a side note, I shuddered at the thought of all those disposables piled high in some landfill nearby.  It’s estimated that these diapers take anywhere from 250 to 500 years to decompose.  That’s one gnarly carbon butt-print.  ;)   (Check here for more info.)

Breaking It Down: Which Cloth Diaper To Choose?

A friend of mine (the one that got me interested in cloth diapering to begin with!) had several types of cloth diapers.  And after giving me the pros and cons of each, I started doing some research on my own.  After HOURS of reading, we landed on the bumGenius 4.0 One-Size Cloth Diaper (found here).  It is an insert diaper that is adjustable from 8 to 35+ pounds.  And from all I could tell, this was the cloth diaper with the most positive reviews.  We started using them with Caleb at about 5 weeks old (we used disposables up until then due to his circumcision healing,  umbilical cord falling off, and since we got several boxes as gifts).  It comes in either snaps or hook and loop (velcro); we chose snaps after reading that the velcro can tend to lose its grip after a while.  And if you buy in bulk from this website, you’ll get a discount as well as free shipping!  We ended up purchasing 24 cloth diapers, and I wash them every three days.  

Then What About Wipes?

Well, in my mind, it was either “Go big or go home.”  I mean, if I am already gonna wash the diapers, why use disposable wipes?  And where exactly am I gonna put disposable wipes after they’ve done the dirty work, anyway?  So my mind was made.  We went with flannel wipes, too.  And it’s really no big deal.  I bought 3 packs of bumGenius flannel wipes (36 total), and that has been MORE than enough.  (find 'em here)  To use these flannel wipes, you can either store them moist or have a water spray bottle handy.  Or you can go glam and spray that baby bum with THIS.  Bum Cleaner.  I bought two, one for home and one for the diaper bag.  I may eventually switch to a little spray bottle of water, but for now I like the scent of this all-natural spray. 

Where Do I Store The Used Diapers?  

Not in the diaper pail that your mama used!  :)  We have a Planet Wise Wet/Dry Hanging Bag that we purchased on Amazon.  (find 'em here)  It can hold 20+ cloth diapers and can be thrown into the wash along with the diapers!  (Side note: I bought two smaller versions of this same wet/dry bag to use in my diaper bag when we’re out and about.)  And there’s NO STINK.  Seriously.  I use a 3M hook and hang the bag right beside the boys’ bathroom toilet... the same toilet I have rigged with THIS...

The Ultimate Cloth Diapering Tool

The bumGenius Diaper Sprayer.  Get it.  It will be your cloth diapering best friend.  No more dunking and scrubbing with your bare hands, old school style.  I think this was the deal-maker for my hubs, who ironically, works in a hospital and has to wash his hands every two seconds anyway.  But I get it.  Minimizing physical contact with yesterday’s pureed baby food is appealing to me, too.

And When It’s Time for Suds?

Washing the diapers is no biggie.  Especially with the Planet Wise Wet/Dry Bag!  I just dump the bag into the wash, throw the bag in, and wash it all on hot (setting the cycle for a pre-soak and extra rinse).  You do have to be careful what kind of laundry detergent you use.  I am using bumGenius’s specially made detergent for now, but other folks use any type that is free of fragrances, softeners, and fillers.  To dry, we hang the diaper on a drying rack and throw the inserts and wipes into the dryer without dry sheets.  

Bottom line: So far, I don’t mind cloth diapering!  It is a little more work, but we’ll save upwards of $2000 over the next 3 years while keeping mad amounts of disposable diapers out of nearby landfills.  And I can live with that.  :)  And if you’re interested in joining the journey with me, we can learn together as we go!! 

Truth, sans whipped cream...

What makes something “relevant”?  I hear this word thrown around in Christian circles like a Nerf ball at youth group in the early 90’s... “We MUST be relevant in order to reach the lost!”

But somewhere along the way, I believe that “relevance” became about making the Truth of God’s Word step out in skinny jeans while slurping up a grande mocha frappuccino.  (No offense to either.  I wish I could wear the former and it’s because of the latter that I can’t!)  What makes His Word relevant?  Is it what we wrap it in, or is it the very fact that it is TRUTH PERSONIFIED in the Person of Jesus Christ?  

Yes.  I have an opinion about this.  But the reality is... SO DOES GOD.  Check this out:

“As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house[a] to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.  For in Scripture it says:

“See, I lay a stone in Zion,
    a chosen and precious cornerstone,
and the one who trusts in him
    will never be put to shame.”

Now to you who believe, this stone is precious. But to those who do not believe,

“The stone the builders rejected
    has become the cornerstone,”

and,

“A stone that causes people to stumble
    and a rock that makes them fall.”

They stumble because they disobey the message—which is also what they were destined for.

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.” -1 Peter 2:4-10

In an effort to make the Truth of the Gospel palatable for the world’s appetite, we’ve had a tendency to water it down, muddle it up, and sadly, rob it of its POWER to transform.  Jesus was not just some do-good hippie.  He had a message that, quite frankly, polarized folks.  And it still does.

Now, this is not to say that we should blindly spew the message with complete disregard for the circumstances of the hearer.  We read Paul saying just the opposite in his first letter to the Church in Corinth:

“...I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings.” -9:22b-23

But it was Paul’s deep-seated conviction of the power of the Gospel to transform that motivated him to “become all things to all people.”  Remember, this was the same guy who was plotting the demise of Christians everywhere as he travelled along the road to Damascus.  The book of Acts actually states that Saul (later, Paul) was “breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples.”  He was one that had most definitely stumbled all over the message of Jesus, the Messiah.  But as he walked that road, intent to destroy His Bride, Jesus met him with a flash of light.  And in the presence of the Lamb that had been slain, Saul experienced it.  The TRUTH.  And he was transformed.  Renamed Paul, this man went from chasing down and imprisoning believers to encouraging them to “fight the good fight” to expand this Kingdom that he had once tried so desperately to destroy.  And just listen to the list of what Paul endured because of his boldness in proclaiming the Truth of Christ:

“...I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again. Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was pelted with stones, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea,  I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my fellow Jews, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false believers.  I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked.” -2 Corinthians 11:23-27

He was not ashamed of the Gospel, as evidenced by the intense persecution he endured because of it.  Paul knew that what made the Gospel relevant was simply that it was the only Truth that had the power to make an old heart new.  It was the only Message wrapped up in Emanuel... God with us.  It was the only Story where death had been conquered once and for all... for ALL who believe.  The undiluted, dynamically life-changing,  Good News of Jesus Christ was relevant for all.  And it still is today... with or without a latte in hand.

More Lessons from the Pot of Curry: Painful Popping

*A follow-up to Lessons from a Pot of Curry*

I mentioned last week how I have recently learned from my mother-in-law how to make some of the most savory curry that you’ve ever put in your mouth!  And this process included something so bizarre to me-popping mustard seeds.

I’d honestly never even heard of this before.  And although my ignorance in the matter most certainly indicates my very limited knowledge of the world of Indian curries, I got such a kick out of popping something completely out of the “corn” family.  I had watched Mrs. Abraham once before, but it wasn’t until I clumsily tried the recipe on my own that I looked at my “popping” pan a little differently.  I almost felt sorry for the little mustard seeds… throwing those tee-tiny little guys into hot oil, only to hear them surrender to the heat and POP.  It looked like a painful process, and one with which I could identify…

I don’t think that I’m all that unique in how I’ve often imagined God’s “discipline.”  We screw up, only to look up and see God’s big frown of disappointment as He straps the dunce cap on our heads and points His finger toward the “time-out” corner.  This is not at all what my parents taught or how they disciplined.   I think it had to do with my “baby faith,” with its inability to more fully grasp the true heart and nature of the Father.  It wasn’t until college that my perception of God’s instruction and patient love for His kids took a beautiful turn. 

I had this class with a professor by the name of Dr. Wetmore.  And I remember the day he rocked my world when he boldly proclaimed “True love is always painful!”  I hurried out of the classroom fuming, racking my brain for proof to the contrary.  I got back to my dorm, my mind a jumbled mess.  “Love is beautiful!  Peaceful!  Tender!  There’s NO WAY it could be painful!!!”   That’s when God revealed to me something entirely better.  Verse after verse from the book of 1 John came flooding back… 

“This is how we know what love is; Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.”

“This is how God showed His love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.”

“This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.”

“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!”

“Love” was demonstrated on the cross.  “Love” showed itself in that while we were still enemies of God, He chose to send His Son as the sacrifice for those same sins that had separated us from Him.  “Love” was in that patience, that suffering, that pain!  And because of that agonizing love, I could be called a child of God!   Wow.  In the most excruciating of acts, Jesus loved us to death.  His death.   And right then and there, the paradigm shifted.  I got my first true glimpse of the Lord’s discipline through the lens of that kind of love...  I envisioned a surgeon intently at work, focused as he performs heart surgery on a sickly patient.  Those surgeon’s hands, though they be breaking bones and slicing through muscle to reach the hurting heart, are hands bringing abouthealing, not destruction!  In the end, the benefit of the surgeon’s intervention FAR outweighs the immediate pain caused in surgery.  It ultimately produces LIFE!

The writer of the book of Hebrews puts it this way, as he quoted Proverbs 4:

“’My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those He loves, and he punishes everyone He accepts as a son.’  Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons… But God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in His holiness.  No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful.  Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”

And so I looked down at my mustard seeds, popping under the intense heat and yet somehow ending up better for it. Or so the recipe said.  So out of curiosity, I “googled” a more detailed description of the whole mustard-seed-popping-process.  And I found the following, written by the self-proclaimed “Flavourguy,” Nicholas Robinson:

“Black mustard seeds can also be ground into a powder but the flavour is bitterer, less mustardy. Most people who taste it for the first time don’t like it… And that might be the only way that we would eat black mustard seeds if their flavour didn't change so impressively when roasted or fried. Try them this way and cooking becomes a complete sensory experience.”

Some call it the crucible; some call it the refining fire.  But the bottom line is this: we, God’s children, are always better for experiencing His discipline.  And although there are many times when pain is a part of that fiery process, to the point that we feel like we might “pop,” there is a beauty on the other side that can only be achieved through the flames.  Without the heat of instruction, I’m a lot like that black mustard seed, bitter and hardly useful.  But there is a transforming that can happen when I submit myself to the loving discipline, the refining fire, of my Father… whose desire is that I, His child, be all the better and more “flavorful” for the pain in that frying pan.

Lessons From a Pot of Curry

*An oldie but a goodie inspired by some time cooking with my Mother-in-law back in '10*

My Mother-in-law was here last week.  And she makes some of the best South Indian food on the planet.  I have had no other Indian cuisine that could even hold a candle to her cooking!  Biriyani, chickpea curry, valleyapam… all simply incredible.  But my favorite by far is her chicken curry.

Now, let me back up a little here… I have not always liked curry.  As a matter of fact, my stance on hot foods up until my 20s was that those who “liked” them really just liked the bragging rights attained by being able to swallow such hotness and not cry like a little baby.  Being a child of the South, I had always tended towards the bland, creamy textures of chicken pot pie, biscuits and gravy, and chicken and dumplin’s.  Until the summer of 2004…

Yep.  That was the summer of goat, samosas, and other entrees that I’m still not sure from where they derived.  And the SPICES!  My goodness… I thought my mouth would quite literally be seared from the heavy heat packed into each bite.  And looking back, I’m so incredibly thankful to those sweet refugee mamas for sharing their cooking, and their LIVES with me.  Because it got me ready for step two of the flavorful journey… CURRY.

Insert Prasad Abraham.  Those of you that know him, know the kind of person he is.  And I was SO EXCITED to get to know him and then, his FAMILY!  Mr. and Mrs. Abraham now live in Houston, TX, but they are originally from Kerala, India.  (Southern tip of India, on the west side).   My first visit with them was September of ’05.  And that was my first true exposure to… the curries.  Now, let me give you a little insight into the world of curries. Those that enjoy them can be found eating them for lunch, dinner…. And BREAKFAST.  Yes, that’s right.  Curry for breakfast.  And as much as those refugee families had stretched my ability to try just about anything deemed “edible,” I had only done so for one meal at a time.  But three days of flames o’ fire in my mouth was a whole other story.   There was curry, curry, and more curry!  I do believe I ended up texting my mom from the “facilities” at one point, letting her know that my insides had already “thrown in the towel” and needed rescuing! 

But then something happened…with each exposure, I began to find myself drawn in to a flavor, or even a combination of flavors.  Upon coming home, there were nights where I’d actually CRAVE some of that flavorful goodness.  And although there is no restaurant in Atlanta (or Houston, for that matter!) that has yet to come close to Mrs. Abraham’s curries, even their versions were becoming “good” to me!  Now keep in mind, I was the BLAND GRAVY girl!  This was unprecedented ground I was treading on, culinarily speaking (like that?  “culinarily”?? I’m pretty sure it’s not even a word… at least Microsoft Word is telling me it isn’t…).  And on our last trip to Houston this summer, as we were sitting at the breakfast table at the end of an INCREDIBLE week with the Abrahams… I was grieving that this was going to be the last of her mouth-watering curry. 

Which brings me back to this last week.  I was DETERMINED to learn how to make some of this deliciousness, most especially, the CHICKEN CURRY.  And THAT is when I learned some valuable lessons, both about cooking and about life…

Curries take time.  This is not one of Rachael Ray’s 30 minute meals.  I think the chopping of ingredients alone takes twice that!  And, oh, the list of ingredients.  Who would have thought (oh Southern American that I am) that cinnamon would be used in something other than dessert or breakfast?!  And fresh ginger.  AND coriander.  But don’t forget the mustard seeds, garlic cloves, chili powder, onions (my least favorite… chopping always induces tears like I have just watched the movie, Simon Birch), fresh cilantro, coconut milk… and of course, the chicken.  But, let’s not stop there.  This is a PROCESS.  You don’t just dump everything in the pot at once, set it on simmer, and check it in two hours.  No.  You start with sautéing the onions for several minutes.  Then add ginger and garlic, sautéing for five minutes more…  And somewhere along the way, you actually POP mustard seeds.  Did you know that you could pop seeds other than corn?  And a MUSTARD seed, at that!  Those suckers are TINY!  Anyway, you catch my drift.  The delicacy and time required stretches over 2 to 2 ½ hours.   But in the end, after painstakingly standing over your stove for an amount of time that seems almost ungodly, a smell hits your nose.  And your mouth starts watering.  And you grin, knowing that in a few short minutes more, you’ll be feasting on a sea of flavors, beautifully coming together in a way that brings you back to your kitchen to sign up for this two hour process again.  And again.  And again.

And THAT’S when it hit me.  (Took a while, didn’t it?!)  Take a big bite of corriander powder all by itself.  Or garlic.  YUMMO.  ;)  Not really.  That would be absolutely disgusting.  Or try impatiently dumping everything in at once and hoping for the best.  Good luck with that!  Your “curry” will be shootin’ towards the garbage disposal in no time.  This process, these ingredients, only come together when you take the time, have the patience, and keep the end goal in mind.  And THAT is kind of like how God uses us!  So many times, we look at our individual life like it’s the only thing going on.  We’re selfish, immature, and simple minded.  We get so caught up in our own “flavor,” that we fail to see what God could be orchestrating in that big pot on the stove.  I can hear myself saying “Seriously?  You’re gonna throw me in with GINGER?  You know we don’t get along.  She comes on WAY too strong.  Not too useful at all, if you ask me…”  Or “Okay…this whole waiting thing is getting old.  Either throw me in, or I’m out.”  And this one’s painful to admit, but “C’mon, what’s the deal with your gentle hands with Onion?  He’s abrasive anyway, just beat that flavor out of him and move on to something better….ME, for instance!” 

Ouch.  And those tears aren’t from the chili powder.  God is using each of us, like spices, to be BLENDED TOGETHER to make something that is so indescribably better than if we stood out on our own.  As He gently stirs, patiently walking through each step, He smiles, knowing what’s at the end of His labor.  So, me, little ol’ mustard seed, needs to step back, be patient, and trust that the Chef who’s perfect in His preparation of this flavorful banquet will pull it all together on HIS timetable.  And like Mrs. Abraham’s hands over her delicious pot of curry, God knows EXACTLY what He’s doing.  And my delight should be that He’s reaching out and grabbing me to have a part in this masterpiece He’s been working on for a while now… and He knows JUST how to use me.

Check out “One Body, Many Parts” in 1 Corinthians 12:12-31  But here’s a little “taste” to “whet your appetite” for more…

“The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you!’  And the head cannot say to the feet, ‘I don’t need you!’…But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other.  If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.   Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.”

Buffet or Boot Camp?

Buffets. Now you’re picturing it, aren’t you?  Mounds of mediocrity under heat lamps which we compensate for by “getting our money’s worth” in consuming five times the amount normally eaten at any given meal.   And as we loosen our belts to make room for our over-indulgent (but economic!) caloric intake, we convince ourselves that quantity made up for quality.  Well, almost.  (That is, until we lose a bit of our appetite in observing sticky little fingers belonging to bodies that can barely see over the counter to the oatmeal raisin cookie that they just grabbed, tried... and then returned to the tray.  It DID look deceivingly like a chocolate chip cookie, after all.) 

Yeah, so I’m not a fan of buffets.  (Which may change as my three little men hit growth spurts and start eating me out of house and home!)  But the Sunday afternoon lunch buffet at Ryan’s is not the only place where this concept proves to come up short.  As the body of Christ in America, we tend to view our weekly gatherings/services as yet another opportunity to peruse the spiritual smorgasbord, picking and choosing what we want for our personal consumption.  Our focus becomes us, what we want to “get out of it.”  I’ll be the first to admit that there have been several times in the past where I’ve evaluated a church service with thoughts like “Yeah, that worship style really worked for me.  And I love what they offer for kids.  And that pastor’s teaching?  Pretty edgy!”  And like a saturated sponge that begins to mold on the edge of my sink, my stagnation sets in as I settle in on viewing the Church as a buffet, with the purpose being my consumption.

But what if we viewed our assemblies as a boot camp instead of a buffet table?  I’ve seen the positive impact that fitness boot camps have had on folks.  With tough workouts, intense coaching, and diet regimens directed by nutritionists, people’s physiques have been transformed as they put their bodies under strict physical discipline.  Physical bodies able to operate at their optimal level, like well oiled machines. 

Could it be that this is more the purpose of our meeting together as believers?  I would wager, according to Scripture, that the answer is a resounding “YES!” 

“It was He (Christ) who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ. Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming. Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into Him who is the Head, that is, Christ. From Him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.”  Ephesians 4:11-16

 “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.  Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”  Hebrews 10:24-25

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.  Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air.  No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.” 1 Corinthians 9:24-27

What if edification, admonition, and encouragement of fellow believers really became the purpose of our coming together?  Would we be so prone to programs and popular topical teachings if our focus was on spiritual discipline, spurring one another on in love and good deeds as we see the Day approaching?  What would that translate into being for our ministries within the body?  I think they would end up looking a lot less like crowd-pleasing performances, as the focus could be on establishing intentional, deliberate training grounds for spiritual growth and maturity... whether or not that included fog machines or tight media compilations.

Not that having “attractive” ministries is bad.  But the heart behind making them attractive is what’s key.  If the attractiveness is to aid in the learning process, that’s one thing.  After all, Church “growth” should be measured in the spiritual maturity of our congregation, not simply in how many bodies line our pews.  (‘Cause let’s keep it real; many a cult have been on the fast track for “growth”... but “drinking the koolaid” proved a false message after all.)  Yes.  Our function as believers living in (but not of) this world should most definitely be the “Great Commission,” sharing the Good News of Jesus with a lost and hopeless world.  But it’s that message of Christ that should be attractive, and not because I put the right background music and dim lighting behind it. It’s my life, filled with the Spirit and reflecting the love and heart of our Father, that should be what I try to make “attractive.”  Embodying radical love, forgiveness, and grace will go way further in captivating the lost than any cover of a U2 song by our church band.  And with a mindset of our weekly gatherings being more of a spiritual boot camp, we, through the Spirit, can be personal trainers for each other...equipping one another to run this race with perseverance!  Because in coming alongside our brothers and sisters to promote spiritual growth, our organic body of Christ (whether gathered together or as individuals living our faith out in the world) will be Truly attractive... because it will be CHRIST IN US that will do all of the attracting.