Hungary for More

Last week, I was in the country of Hungary with a contingency of Reformed Church in America pastors. We are partnering together to launch congregations on the campuses of the University of Debrecen. We strategically chose this country because it already has the largest reformed presence in all of Europe. There are actually more reform congregations in Hungary than in North America. The planting team of pastors in Hungary are highly gifted and relational in their approach. They have a gathering of approximately 160 students on the main campus, 30 students on a second campus, and 20 students on a third campus. Our hope is to start these groups out as Bible studies and then morph them towards weekly worship. Our visit with the church planters was very encouraging for them as well as for us, but there is so much to do in order to reach the nations. People in Hungary generally think of a building when they think of a church. They think building, and the buildings are very old and dilapidated, except for the ones that are historic landmarks in which the government has helped sustain the structures. We have a 6-year commitment to this project.

On the last day of our adventure, we went to the historic city of Budapest, home of some 2 million people and much larger than any other city in the country. We saw some of the historic sites and were joined by an RCA missionary in Budapest who was able to serve as our tour guide and we were able to encourage him in his work there.

Gang, I'm really fired up for this Sunday's message. I have so enjoyed preaching on the book of Nehemiah and we will again ask the question, "What is your wall?" Join us and bring a friend!

Blessings, 

JP

Prayer Retreat

This past Monday and Tuesday, I spent time at SpringHill Camp with staff members from Centerpoint, Vanguard North, and Vanguard South. We experienced a prayer retreat that was second to none. One of the greatest joys in ministry is having such a positive, mutually encouraging relationship with our granddaughter congregations. The Vanguard family of churches is well versed in the power of prayer. Often when I pray with such heavy weights in prayer I feel like I'm just getting my learner’s permit, but the only way you get better at any enterprise is practice. I believe that God is stirring a renewed passion for prayer amongst our staff, and in our congregation, which gives me great hope for the advancement of the mission God has called us to.

I'm excited about being able to teach again this Sunday. I hope the message is useful in enabling us to be more aware of the opposition against the great work God has called us to, along with all of the provision that He promises. Hope to see many of you on Sunday.

On Tuesday, I'm getting on a plane with five other RCA pastors whose congregations are partnering together to plant a series of churches on university campuses in Hungary. I will have my eyes, ears, and heart open to expecting God to speak to me during this interesting trip.

Blessings!

Jeff Porte

GLS, Multiplication, and House of Cards

Yesterday was interesting. I was encouraged by the response of the staff toward the Summit challenge I presented them with. We have committed toward each bringing 10 people to the Summit. If we are able to achieve this goal, the staff themselves will have brought 150 people. I believe that is within reach. I also made three weeks of To The Point videos promoting the Global Leadership Summit. I really want to see the worship center with over 600 people this year!

The monthly meeting that I have the Multiplication Team of our classis was very encouraging as we strategized with our four current plants on goals for this coming year. We certainly have some top talent planters in our region within the RCA.

 Last night, my oldest son Michael and I watched another episode of "House of Cards". I like political drama. This is one about the president and watching how he interfaces with his cabinet and other powerbrokers on the Hill. There are great leadership lessons to be learned - even from fictitious dramas.

I've listen to nine different messages this week, including my own from Sunday. I've made it a discipline -  as arduous and painful as it is -  to listen to myself after every message.  One of the messages I listened to gave me some clarity about heaven.  I've always been a little fussy about how the new heaven and new earth coincide with the current earth and current heaven.  It has been interesting.

Today, I have to write the second half of the message for Sunday. I am hopeful that the words that are shared will be a catalyst toward more intentional prayer on behalf of CP.


Blessings!


Jp


Jeff Porte is the Senior Pastor of Centerpoint Church in Kalamazoo, MI.  He keeps it classy by proudly sporting his Global Leadership Summit shirts. 

Teaching elder Tom Wolthuis exchanged his earthly tent for a building made by God. Our hearts go out to his wife Mary and their sons Michael and Steve. Tom has been a great source of encouragement to me having served shoulder to shoulder as a teaching elder for six out of the last 10 years.

This tremendous loss to our church family is a great reminder that death has lost its sting because it is temporary. I have lost many things...but make no mistake....Tom is not lost...we know exactly where he is.

Devil beware, I'm bringing the gospel guns a blazing come Sunday.

Jp

The Wall

I woke up at 3:30 this morning praying and thinking about one of our currently serving elders, Tom Wolthuis. He is coming under the care of hospice as, medically speaking, there is not more that can be done for his battle against cancer.

Earlier this fall, I performed the funeral services for two of our elders who were also actively serving. It has been a difficult year in the life of our congregation. As I think about Tom, I don't have good answers for what to say to this dear family who has been a part of this congregation for several generations. I am grateful that they are involved in serving the church. I am very grateful that they are in a small group, so I know that fantastic care is being extended to them. There are many things to be grateful for in the middle of this challenge.

But I must admit that whatever attack our enemy has been extending against our congregation and her leaders has only served to make me more urgent to share the gospel and call the church to prayer.

I would advise Centerpointers to be prepared and continue to invite people in your circle of influence to our new series called The Wall. In preparing for Sunday, I sense the Holy Spirit wants to say some strong, convicting words into the life of His church. This series will challenge us to consider "What's your wall?"

What wrecks you?

What issue causes a "holy unrest" within?

What ignites your passion to DO SOMETHING?

It might be sex trafficking, abortion, racism...

It might be children who need a mentor, creating a culture in your company of compassion, or coaching young moms how to raise Godly kids.

You do not want to go to your grave leaving undone what God is tapping you to do.

THE WALL....a 7 week series based on Nehemiah 1-6.

Jp
Jeff Porte is the Senior Pastor of Centerpoint Church in Kalamazoo, MI.  He is also a proud Dad of four pretty cool kids.

Final 4

Gang,

It is hard to put into words how much fun it was to be at the final game in Indianapolis. I scored free parking and free hotel for five nights so I feel that my Dutch soul was ministered to in very specific and beautiful ways. It was a wonderful memory to be able to bring Terri and David.  I spent most of the day writing the message for Sunday and I am eager to be able to share with our congregation, even as difficult as it is to hear, that we have become "comfortably numb".

I listened to three Willow Creek messages last night and found myself convicted, challenged, and comforted from God's Word through Bill Hybels and Steve Carter.

I want to encourage each of you to utilize the advantage of social media to engage people in this blog and I promise to keep information updated and hopefully, not boring.

 One of the highlights of our time in Indy was talking with David about  businesses where we experienced both great customer service and poor service. It is so refreshing to be around a student of companies and hearing his reflections on why one company succeeds and another fails. I have no question that he will succeed in business. And I trust he will retain his commitment toward creating a for-profit company that provides needed goods and services in developing countries. The only thing better than such conversations was the Chick-fil-A  sandwich and chocolate chip cookie they make which absolutely must be part of the menu in heaven.

 Invite your friends to worship on Sunday and be prepared to have your comfortable lifestyle blown up by the unchanging Word of God.

Jp

Jeff Porte is the Senior Pastor at Centerpoint Church and recently told his team that mowing his lawn was "fun".  Hear more from Jeff by downloading the Centerpoint Kalamazoo app in your iOs or Android app store.

Easter Reflections

As I sit out on my back deck I'm reflecting on how I saw God at work in my life over these last few days with the help of my huddle, and in particular, Brad Baker. I'm trying to become more alert at seeing God in everything. So here are some of the ways in which I experienced God in these last few days.

• I felt His love, warmth, and encouragement as Brad Landrum washed my feet with not only water, but tears, and with a hug that followed expressing our mutual love and locked shields as we continue in this great fight.
• I experienced Him in having a private communion with my wife where we not only shared bread but prayers of confession and gratitude for what God is doing in the life of our family.
• I experienced God on Saturday, playing Frisbee in the parking lot of Lucas Oil Stadium, as we became friends with everyone from every school.
• I experienced God again as I had to admit that the Michigan State Spartans needed a miracle and it never came.
• It's hard for me to put into words the deep joy of being able to preach the Gospel to a full church at both services and to watch the Spirit touching the lives of young and old as they came forward to be baptized.
• I was able to baptize with Jason Zimmer, a number of people from Northpoint.
• I am grateful for the extreme joy of seeing the fruits of God moving His church towards planting churches who plant churches or the joy of baptizing with Pat and Brad a gal who has found a turning point to be her church.
• I experienced God in the Easter Egg Hunt with all of my great nieces and nephews and knowing that next year Brielle will be out there opening eggs.
• I experienced God again having my immediate family hanging out, laughing, and eating Chinese food and I experienced Him again when we watched Son of God on Netflix.
• This morning I experienced God while riding hard on my training bike; going nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
• My discipleship huddle has helped open my eyes to see Jesus more clearly. So as Terri, David, and I go back down to Indy for the final tonight I'm actually going to wear red and cheer for Wisconsin.
  I trust that you will see God this week as well, as we continue to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus.

JP

Jeff Porte is the Senior Pastor of Centerpoint Church and a diehard college hoops fan...even if it wasn't Michigan in the Final Four.

Winter Thief

For those of us from Michigan, Summer was an odd blip on the radar.  Don't get me wrong.  After a winter of digging out of 6 foot drifts and sub zero temps, people busted out their shorts at a tropical 50 degrees.  With only one or two days breaking into the 90's, it was simply odd.  Only 1 trip to the lake, sweaters at night, rain the entire weekend.


What winter did, was rob of us our right to complain.  Winter sprawled into our spring like a destructive vine that choked us of our time.  The result was a vacation diaspora, where we all just went anywhere this summer to find enough sun to suck the cold from our bones.  Yet we all said so little.  Who wants to be the guy who complains about only having a few hot days when you're surfing Amazon to find industrial strength adult snowpants for the coming winter?


Isn't that just like pain?  In the wide spread of personal trouble, we feel everything from sad to hopeless.  Frustrated to furious.  We want to scream - we want people to know that what we are feeling is hard, that it is real, and that we are in pain.


That is, until we hear someone else's story.


Like last year's creeping cold, nothing stalls us like hearing another's tale of misery.  Then the comparisons start.


"Well, at least I still have my marriage."


"I shouldn't complain - my kids still call me at least."


"I miss my job.  But, at least I didn't lose my job AND home."


At least, at least, at least.  And so we don't allow ourselves the comfort, nurture, or expression we need because, "at least."


I shake hands with people every Sunday morning who have probably had one "at least" that week.  What is scarier is that I shake hands with people who may have had 5 or 10.  Pinpoints of pain or fear that they can't talk about because they've compared it to the grand horror of someone else's situation.  They've been robbed of their chance to experience authenticity (and authentic healing) because it's simply just not "as bad as" what has happened to someone else.


There are two truths.  Five or ten little things can often feel like one big thing.  And any one of those things may feel heavy to you regardless of how it pales to another person.  Best yet, the second truth is quite simply this - the Christ that died for us wants to heal us of "big" and "little" things.  He is not measuring them to scale.  Because Christ cares about our things...all of our things.


"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father's care.  And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows" (Matthew 10:29-31).


That is the promise of God.  Jesus says of his and OUR Father that we are worth more than a bird that receives the Father's care.  I'm going to guess that even your "little" things feel bigger than a half-penny bird.  It's been said that, "comparison is the thief of joy".  True.  And it's also the thief of healing.  So don't get robbed.  Take your things to the thing-healer.

The Awful Resilience of Snow

Chapter 25 - The Story

As I'm watching the ice pile up on the branches that are just now starting to bud outside my colleague's window, I feel sick.  I am so over the cold.  I mean, really over.  I don't even hate snow, but it's April, and my bare toes are getting stir crazy.  Please, Jesus...sandal weather NOW!

But after a week of above freezing temps, both day and night, times of sunshine, and people just hacking away at what's left, there are still significant snow piles in random neighborhoods that I've driven through.  And now, because of the quasi-warm weather, they're dingy, exhaust-fume crusted craggy domes.  But they are still there.  What in the world?!  How's THAT for resilience?

Here we are in the winding story of Jesus and he's facing people who don't get it.  Any of it.  He's healing.  He's teaching.  He's setting people free.  He's fulfilling prophecy.  He's being who He said he was.  And in the quasi-clearing of the truth of the law being fulfilled, the pharisees are hanging on, diminished and covered in the fumes of their doubt and unbelief.  Resilient.

It's easy to look at the Pharisees during the time of Jesus and say, "How could you not see Him for who He is?!  I wouldn't miss Him if He was here.  There's no way I would have killed Him if I would have been there!"  They're the hateful bad guys, right?  They're the ones that didn't believe!

But if I peek under the rug of my spiritual life, I see small left over snow piles too - little mounds of unbelief that are dirty and gross that stubbornly hang on even though I know Jesus.  I am no exception.

Doubt and unbelief have a way of resiliency.  There's a stubbornness in how it waits out everything else.  It will cling to every other thought in the hopes of living a bit longer - staying around just a tad more time.  And the truth is, it gets ugly.

This Spring, this Easter, pull back your own rugs a little bit.  Put all your little mounds, all your things right out into the awesomely warm light of the truth of who Jesus is.  Let that melt down to nothing your fears, worries, and wondering if he's really going to come through.  Because as long as that junk stays out of the light, it will stick around a lot longer than you want or need it to.

Eliza Cortés Bast

Chapter 19

Chapter 19 - The Story

I had to wrestle with this a bit.  It's not that I felt like this chapter didn't belong or didn't matter.  It did, for a variety of reasons.

But I've had one of those days that had sweetness and awfulness to it.  And I think I needed this day to prepare me for writing.  Because I have to remember that God is good.  He's very good.

Today we went through Chapter 19 from Haggai's writing.  A frustrating text that highlights God's grief at the temple being so diminished when the people returned.  He was hurting for his home to be rebuilt, in the middle of their rebuilding.

Yes, I think it had to do with their priorities.  It's a great case for tithing and giving to the local body.  It's important.  It is important to becoming devoted, mature followers of Jesus.

I think, though, that the target is more defined and more direct.  In the Old Testament, it was God's only place to dwell with his people.  They built their own homes without providing a place for their God to be near them.

I want God near me.  Better yet, I need God with me.  Because he's good.  Because he's mine.  Because he knows me and loves me in a way that is so unbelievable and so unending, that it defies logic.  Nobody loves me the way he does.  Not my mom.  Not my husband.  Not my son.  I can't wrap my mind, let alone my heart, around that very simple fact.  The totality of love wants to live with me.

In my newest testament life, that is the difference.  I can't have an existence that works without God.  I need him here.  It's the only way I'll make it through the insane roller coaster of the people who I need to love and the people who disappoint me the most, and when those people are the same people.  It's the only way I can look myself in the mirror when I have days that are reckless and I don't deserve someone loving me.

 It is God, expressed through the loving sacrifice of his son Jesus - the high priest who sits next to his father, interceding on my behalf when I need it, and when I don't deserve it.  It's the Holy Spirit who checks me into the boards when I think awful thoughts; who counsels me when I don't understand why dumb things happen.

So yes.  Giving out of my first-fruits is maturity.  Making a place for God so he can be here with me is necessity.  Critical importance.  I need him so close that I can run into his arms.

Eliza Cortes Bast

Extra Credit

Chapter 18 - The Story

For those who know me, you know I'm taking master's classes right now.  Which has been fun.  For those who knew me in my bachelor-degree days, you'll remember I thought those classes were fun too.

Except Statistics.

Who came up with that class?  I mean, really?  I get the importance of data, and I LOVE data.  But I hate designing it, and then using things like >0.6.  Which I know is important.  I just don't know what that means.  So hats off to my extra cool statisticians who know.  You complete me.

Needless to say, I worked my backside off, hoping to never come to stats land ever again (amen).  And then I went to grad school.

Under a cool, catchy new name, I signed up for my required class of "organizational analysis".  It was code for stats.  Once again, I'm back to feeling 19 and clueless as I figure out what >0.6 means, again.  But now the stakes are higher, and more expensive, and require tri-weekly 15 page research paper on how to interpret >0.6.  It was a stone cold bummer.  I didn't just pass that class.  I survived that class.

Thank God for extra credit.  That sweet bit of extra work that helps your instructor understand that you're not lazy, just a tad (or a whole lotta) lost.  Papers.  News journals.  Organizational mags.  Please let me prove that I actually can read.  And maybe even write.  Just one pinch of extra credit!

Chapter 18 of The Story loses no steam on a guy who has to prove himself.  Again.  And again.  Poor Daniel!  You get carted off into exile, you and your buddies get promoted, then you are supposed to be executed, and then you and your buddies get promoted again.  Awesome!  Nope.  Your buddies get thrown into a fire.  Then they are rescued.  Then God has to write on a wall and the new king ends his party with a bang.  Now a new guy, and his buddies hate you.  And you get thrown into a lion's den.  Along with all this, you get angels called down to help fight for you and have visions of the future.

Daniel's got a lot going on.  Daniel's a BOSS.

But on page 252, Daniel goes to Nebuchadnezzar to tell him he knows the meaning of his dream.  He says, "No wise man...can explain to the king the mystery has asked about, but there is a God...".  He continues on page 253 and says, "As for me, this mystery has been revealed to me, not because I have greater wisdom than anyone else alive, but so that Your majesty may know the interpretation and that you may understand what went through your mind."

Here's a guy who we would think needs a self-marketing campaign.  Yet he doesn't take the credit.  Not for his wisdom, his insight, his ability to interpret dreams.  Same with his buddies.

ALL of the extra credit went to God.  Daniel didn't need it.  Didn't want it.  He knew God had it.  He didn't have to prove anything.  With an eery calm, Daniel responds to each crisis knowing that the God in heaven CAN respond and is the God who saves - the "revealer of mysteries".

In a day and age of measuring and assessing and trying to move ahead, we miss no opportunity to do the "extra credit" it takes to be the best and make sure people know it.  Here's a guy who was phenomenal, and didn't take the chance to put himself first.  He squarely position God at the helm and the spotlight.  God gets the credit.  No extra papers, no extra medals, no "plus" after the A.  Just God.

Eliza Cortés Bast

3 Easy Taunts

Chapter 16 - The Story

Sennacherib is just fun to say.  Even as I'm typing this, I'm saying it in my head: "Sennacherib".  Son of Sargon II (fun, but not as fun as his son), Sennacherib was the powerful king of Assyria around 705 BC.  He wasn't so much a military strategist as he was a builder, renovator, and all-around expansionist.  There was some bad blood between Father and Son, and it seems he wanted to be remembered differently from his dad.

But he wasn't a slouch.  He didn't take too kindly to a young king of Judah named Hezekiah.  Hezekiah wasn't interested in Assyria, their god Nisroch, or paying tribute anymore.  He wanted to worship the Lord - and he systematically went about destroying any of the idol worshiping in Judah to do that.  The Lord was with Hezekiah, and things were about to go down.

Nothing says, "Release the Kraken" like one tiny province thumbing their nose at you.  Sennacherib sends his generals on a vicious military campaign that decimated some of the fortified cities on their way to Jerusalem.  Hezekiah closed in the town, readied for what's to come.

Here is where things get weird.  Instead of just fighting the city, 185,000 Assyrian soldiers set up camp, and the field commander called out for Hezekiah.  The palace administrator comes out with the scribe, and the field commander begins to make some suggestions.  "Listen...no one is coming to help you.  I'll even give you some horses if you have enough soldiers to ride them.  You are on your own.  Let's just cut a deal and I won't completely destroy you."  No response.

Then he calls out in Hebrew: "Look - your king is lying!  He won't save you!  He's telling you the Lord will deliver you, and he won't.  I'll even take you to a land that's just like this, but better! Give in!"

Sennacherib gets a message that Hezekiah's not budging.  So they send the final salvo - "We are coming for you.  No one has survived us.  We're taking you down.  Love, Sennacherib."

Hezekiah prays.  He lays it all out before God.  And God listened.  An angel of the Lord shows up, and smites 185,000 soldiers in the night.  185,000 dead bodies at the dawn's early light.

Isn't that like our enemy?  He rages and thrashes, and then stands outside making fun of us when we are at the end of our rope.  He'll even use our own language.  He shoots at us 3 easy taunts when crisis hits:
1. You are all alone in this.
2. God is lying.  He's not that good.  Your life can be just as good without following Him.
3. You're not going to survive this.

The truth is, the Lord hears.  And he doesn't take too kindly to be taunted with lies.  The direct quote was, "Who is it you have ridiculed and blasphemed?  Because your insolence has reached my ears, I will put my hook in your nose and my bit in your mouth."  Ouch.  Total domination.

Again - Jehova Shaw Mah'.  The Lord who hears.  He is motivated on our behalf!  Not just the Lord who hears.  He is the Lord who responds.  Amen!

Eliza Cortés Bast

Cutter

Chapter 15 - The Story

I was sitting in a service at another church once, when one of the speakers stepped off of the stage, and exited the worship center.  Another speaker got up to begin speaking, and we realized there was an entirely different conversation happening that we all could hear, but no one could see.  As the voices wafted through the worship center and the church giggles started to spread, the current speaker stood awkwardly until an usher exited the worship center, and you could hear an audible "oh...OH NO!" over the sound system.

The poor speaker had walked out and never turned his headset mic off.  We heard him warmly greet people, ask the senior pastor how he was doing, and how the kids were.  We assumed he was shaking hands and waving.  The sound guys had assumed he would know what to do.  He had assumed he was ok.  What was awesome about the whole thing, is that we realized the speaker was awesome off stage as he was on stage.  He was a really warm friendly guy.

But we were all glad he was stopped before he made it to the bathroom.  No doubt.  God bless that usher.

That story struck me reading chapter 15.  I'm awed by the fire coming down and consuming the water and sacrifice.  I'm thunderstruck by the courageousness of Elijah.  And, because of my temperament, I'm GREATLY amused by his taunting of the Baal prophets..."maybe your god is asleep?  maybe in the restroom???"

What grieves me is that the Baal prophets didn't know if their god even heard them.  Wails and pleading turned into cutting and begging.  It struck me that this frantic wonderment forced them to injure themselves just in the hope that their god would pay any attention to them.

I think of the epidemic today of many young people who feel that they have no voice for their pain and cut themselves to relieve that horrible tension.  They too cut to be heard.

What I'm grateful for is the God who Hears.  Jehovah Shaw Mah'.

And he's not just the God who Hears.  Psalm 69:33 (AMP) says, "For the Lord hears the poor and needy and despises not His prisoners (His miserable and wounded ones)."

Jehovah Shaw Mah', especially to the wounded and miserable.

Much like the mic'd speaker, God hears everything.  EVERYTHING.  The thoughts of your heart before you speak them.  The angry words.  The frustrated words.  The broken words.  The happy words.

Let me say it again.  He hears EVERYTHING.

Without us begging.  Without us cutting.  Without us imploding over the great burden we bear in our souls.  He's already heard that.  With the effortlessness of a sound system that never gets turned off, he hears us.

He heard Elijah.  He heard the Psalmist.  He hears the prisoners.  He hears the wounded and miserable ones.  Jehovah Shaw Mah'.  He hears you.

Got Wisdom?

Chapter 14 - The Story

I would consider myself a renaissance woman.  Good ol' Merriam-Webster describes that simply as a person who "has wide interests and is an expert in a variety of areas".  I'm no expert, but I know enough to get me reasonably far on a game of couch Jeopardy.

Unfortunately, it's pretty hard when you have enough interests and possible skill levels that they could maybe take up the Grand Canyon.  Everybody, and their mom, and well-meaning uncles, and good friends have seemingly GREAT ideas about what you should be when you grow up.  I have had advocates in the rare book restorer category, all the way to the politician category.  The degree I'm pursuing now is the third Master's program I've been accepted to.  Everyone has a healthy opinion of what I should do next, with the greatest of intentions.  What am I going to be when I grow up?  But do any of these well-intentioned people really know the real me?

Enter into Chapter 14.  Solomon has since went the way of the great kings, after biting it hard by marrying all sorts of women who didn't know God and didn't care to follow God.  His son Rehoboam comes up in his place, not asking God for, or receiving the wisdom his father had.  He was an inexperienced kid with a massive kingdom on his hands.

No great kingdom is free.  Solomon taxed his people big time, because ivory thrones overlain with gold are not free either.  So delegates made their way to Rehoboam to ask for the taxes to be reduced.

Rehoboam starts smart.  He asks his Dad's advisors what he should do.  "Cut the taxes and they'll love you for life."  GREAT wisdom from some seasoned vets.   And 1 Kings 12 said he ignored them and asked his buddies that he grew up with what they thought.  Their advice?  "Show them who's boss.  Increase the taxes so they know you're bigger than your Dad."  Bad move.  Well, horribly catastrophic move.

Not only does Rehoboam, at one point in the story, have to escape a rock party (the mob did manage to kill his Chief of Forced Labor in the midst of the storm of thrown stones), but the writer says that Israel - THE NATION - got up and said, "Go to your own house and look after yourself.  The throne of David is done."  Only the tribe of Judah remained loyal.  A man who had inherited the universe lost it in one bad decision made in the thick of "friends" who had no expertise and no wisdom (and arguably, no common sense). They were people who didn't know how to run a kingdom.  They were friends of Rehoboam the friend, who just happened to be a prince.  Not Rehoboam the King.

When we grow into what God has for us, we inherit so much from him.  I would argue it's a bigger inheritance than Rehoboam's because we get the Holy Spirit.  And even though our past is part of how He has designed us, our future may not make sense to the people we thought knew us best.  They can't always see the things God has shown us.  They don't get to hear the things God has told us.  And sometimes their advice can corrupt what God is asking us to do because they are speaking to who we were - not to who God is asking us to become.

So here I am.  I'm in ministry.  A place I swore I'd never go.  I couldn't take some of those old folks with me simply because they couldn't understand or support a "me, in ministry".  They either didn't know enough or love me enough to say, "Do whatever God is telling you to do, and nothing else."  They're not bad people, but they are also not the people I can have speaking into me as I move closer to the epicenter of the great adventure God has me on.  In some small painful places, they are people that didn't want me to do that because it meant our relationship had to change.  I couldn't take everyone with me.  But the inheritance of the kingdom of God and playing a part in that is worth it all.

Rehoboam's dad once said this, "Get wisdom.  It may cost you everything you have.  The one who gets wisdom loves life" (Proverbs 4:7, 19:8).  If you are unsure of where God is taking you next, call on wise people who will give you good wisdom and will point your right back to God.  Get wisdom.

Eliza Cortes Bast

Forgotten Ramp, or Why I Almost Died Today

Advent - Week 4

I am amazed, after living almost my whole life in the Great Lakes, how surprised we still are by winter.  It's as if we were unsure that it was coming, and when it hits, we're not prepared for its awesome intensity.  I've had many years now, white knuckle car-skiing to work.  I step out of my little car, my teeth ground down to the size of corn niblets, trying to unclench my jaw.  And yet, our house is here.

What makes it so treacherous is that the one exit ramp I take to get off the highway is routinely forgotten.  If I were to go east, salt.  Going west?  Well, it's a crap shoot.  It leads to the largest artery west out of town, and yet...good luck to me.  I don't understand it.  I pray my way through it every winter.  My son gleefully yells from the back, "Weee!"  And when I'm in the car by myself...I pray for forgiveness.

How can that circular piece of important winter driving chicanery get passed over so often?  Unbelievable!

Today, as I was trying not to curse on my way to work, I was convicted.

That yawning, punched by Jesus in the gut convicted.  I sat in the church parking lot feeling a bit like a phony.

You see - there's only one ramp to understanding the big deal about Jesus.  It's the lavish love of the Father.  Jesus becomes not only a big deal, but THE deal, when we understand how much God loves us in such an insane way.

It's the forgotten ramp to the Father.

I would rather believe in a God that is impressed by my good works, angry at my horrible thoughts, and possibly slightly indifferent to the times when I'm lost.  How is that even possible?

Paul tells the church of the Colossians and those in Laodicea that he is contending hard for them.  He reminds them that God, when they were in the middle of their ultimate corruption and sin, made us alive in Christ.  "He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it ALL away, nailing it to the cross" (Colossians 2:13 - 14).  That is insane love, lavish.

So why do I trade that away for a cheap replica of Jesus?  Why would I think that God, as my Father and redeemer of my soul, would now tell me to get it together - shape up or ship out.  Earn it.  Do more.  Get it together.  I am driving at some ridiculous pace of self-management that I completely miss THE on-ramp to understanding the loving grace of my good God.  It's what separates us from every other religion.

We don't get to earn it.  We just don't.  Because that would mean God is not enough. That Jesus didn't cover everything on the cross.  It makes God cruel - to send his only son to kinda cover all my errant ways, but maybe not, through a horrific death.

So there I sat in the parking lot, in the dawn's early light.

Merriam-Webster has this for the definition of lavish: "bestowing profusely", "produced in abundance", "marked by profusion or excess" - see PRODIGAL.

The love of God is bestowed - given, not earned.  It is produced in abundance - made over and above what is necessary.  It is profuse, excessive.  It is prodigal.

That is why Jesus is such a big deal.  That is love.  That's the only ramp - the only way to get out of the behavior management we've dumbed down Christianity to.  Let's get out of it together.  Let's experience love.  Let's experience Jesus.

"But God demonstrated his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." - Romans 5:8

Merry Christmas.

Eliza Cortes Bast

2, Maybe 3 Awkward Gifts

As I anxiously opened the festive wrapping, my fifteen year old heart could barely keep it together.  We were crowded at Grandma's who had spent extra time this year making sure she got us "cool" gifts.  I was optimistic.

I was also baffled.  Cool is so relative.  And fickle.  And fleeting.

"Thanks G-ma."  I couldn't believe my eyes as I sat holding a crimper.  My late 80's counterparts - I can hear you crying foul on me right now.  But ladies and gents, you have to understand.  You see, I'm Puerto Rican.

I mean, tan skinned, brown eyed, wild haired Latina.  If there is one drop of moisture in the atmosphere, my hair immediately looks like broccoli or Dora the Explorer.  There's no in-between.  It is the epitome of curled frenzy.

A crimper for ANYONE else would have been a cool gift.  As I looked at the hot pink handle and my Grandma's beaming face, it was just...well...awkward.

We've all been there.  In the face of a beloved person who has bestowed on us the very best of what they offered, only to be shocked at the complete randomness of it all.  I've seen t-shirts with the taco bell dog given to grown women, living room throws with kittens, and a sweatshirt (yes) with an attached hand-sewn Christmas tree made out of some sort of rag material.  Well meaning gifts.  Heartfelt gifts.  But believe me when I say the names are left out to protect both the guilty and their victims.

When the writer of the Gospel account of Matthew starts into the second chapter, we see wise men visiting the baby Jesus with gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  We sing about it every year.  And just this morning I was stopped cold.  What kind of gifts are those?  Gold, sure.  No one is going to say no to gold.

Frankincense and myrrh?  Sounds like a crimper to me.

Both are derived from particular trees found in Northern Africa, the Arabian Peninsula, and possibly China.  Used in ancient rituals, both were used for medicinal purposes and were highly sought after.  Frankincense was believed to cure almost everything from a toothache to leprosy.  Myrrh, on the other hand, was also used for embalming.  At the time of Jesus's birth, it is believed that these were more expensive and valuable then the gold.

A cure-all and a balm for the dead.  Was Joseph thinking he could sell this stuff if times were tight?  Was Mary wondering if there was sickness in the air?  Did Melchior turn to the other wise men and say, "Seriously, guys?"

Yet who knows if this is the gold that helped them survive their exile in Egypt while they fled the hateful Herod to protect their infant son.  Who knows if this frankincense was a sign that this little baby would become the great Physician to heal those wounded in body and broken in heart?  And who can say that the myrrh didn't sit on a shelf in the house, where a growing Jesus would look at it and be reminded that he would die one day for his mom, his dad, those wise men, and the rest of the world?

Two, maybe three awkward gifts - precious.  Purposeful.  Prophetic.

So perhaps Joseph saw the gold and realized they would need to run.  Mary saw the frankincense and realized there would be no hometown physician to help her and her infant son - they would need healing on the go.  And maybe both looked at the myrrh and felt their heart ache as they realize every dream, every visitation would be true.  They gave birth to one who would pay the ultimate price.  Life for lives.  Until death.

Eliza Cortes Bast

The Thick of Foes

This may not seem much like an advent post.  It may seem completely incongruous with the Spirit of Christmas.  The "thick of foes" feels way more epic, like a Lord of the Rings chapter or something from the Game of Thrones.

And here we are.  It's Christmas.  And I'm reading Bonhoeffer.

He opens with, "Jesus Christ lived in the midst of his enemies."  As the staff prayed together for Sunday's sermon, I'm struck by the Jesus who not only lived in the midst of his enemies, but was born in the midst of the enemy Herod and died in the company of a mocker.  The gospel accounts are no less expressive with stories pock-marked by people who wanted to throw him off of cliffs, friends who deserted him, family who questioned him, people who talked about his "shameful" conception, and those that just plain hated him.  The thick of foes.

We think of places around the world that are still hostile to the life-giving, life-breathing message of Jesus.  Foreign places with foreign names that we may never see but we pray for or send money to.  Enemies of the gospel, enemies of the message of hope.  But Jesus would be there.

And in familiar places, like Michigan, Kalamazoo, Portage, Dowagiac, Grand Rapids...places I drive to on the weekends, shop in, eat at.  They are full of enemies too.  Friends of Jesus that deserted him.  Family members who are now hurling hateful questions.  People that talk about him shamefully.  People that hate Jesus.  Yet he would be there too.

So where am I this Christmas season?  I can say I've been to the far off countries.  But where am I here, with my familiar foes?  Worse yet, what are those things that sit quietly in the corners of my heart that turn it from fertile soil to enemy territory?

James 4:4 warns us about friendship with the world making us enemies of God.  When I buy into the worldly way of doing business, desiring revenge, bypassing grace, putting myself first, I embrace the fast friendship the world has to offer.  When I worry more about buying the right gifts, giving with regret, having things my way, I introduce to the Christmas table a new friend and a new enemy.

I am so grateful for a Jesus who did not shy away from his enemies.  I can't sanitize my corrupted Christmas heart and make excuses.  There are days when I have to ask the prince of peace to be reborn anew in the unfriendly fire of my weary holiday heart.  And he doesn't shrink or shake.  He comes and corrects and cleans.  He cares.

I'm not going to nail it everyday.  I'm grateful for the grace that says that that is ok.  But I DO know that I want to be more friend than foe.  And I want to bring that friend to everyone I know, right here, right now.  Paul sums up this epic struggle to live everyday in that grace to the church in Galatia, and tells them how it's possible - the great mystery and love of our King Jesus: I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. - Galatians 2:20

Eliza Cortés Bast

Adventus Again

As we break from The Story as a church to focus on the upcoming Christmas season, I've been attracted to reflecting on Advent.

Advent - what has now become known as a mad dash from Black Friday to Christmas Day is a long-historied tradition of penance and waiting, much like Lent.

Advent, from the Latin "Adventus".  Adventus.  Adventus means "a coming".

First appearing in the 3rd and 4th century Catholic texts, this "coming" was a time of preparation and fasting.  Early church fathers compelled the church to remember the feast of Christmas Day and Epiphany, signifying when the three wise men brought gifts to the baby Jesus.  It was 40 days of concentrated remembrance of the God who came to earth as a little baby.  The promise fulfilled.  Not just "a" coming, but THE coming.

Catholic church members would fast Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, balancing the preparation of their heart with the wonder of this great mystery of Emmanuel - God with us.  The catechism states, "when the Church celebrates the liturgy of Advent each year, she makes present this ancient expectancy of the Messiah, for by sharing in the long preparation for the Savior's first coming, the faithful renew their ardent desire for His second coming."

Adventus again.  A second coming.

I'm making my lists for things I need to make.  Things I need to give - to my neighbors, to my co-workers, to my friends, my families.  Schedules of Christmas parties, Christmas giving, travel and cooking.  Each revolves around my going.  And running.  And moving.  And doing.

But around the candlelight and Christmas lights this year, am I being still and remembering to celebrate the coming of Jesus.  His first coming - the marvel of Jesus laying down his crown for a plan to redeem the hearts of an entire planet for the chance we would receive him into our open arms.  His second coming - like a champion with hair like snow and feet like bronze, with the word coming from his mouth like fire, the King of heaven and earth.  That one day sadness and sickness will die in the precious, cleansing flood of a completed work.  Am I pondering that when I sit in my glowing front room, diligently wrapping color-coordinated gifts?

Equally important, am I remembering his coming every day?  How he waits at the door of my anxious heart for an invitation for him to still my fears and frustrations.  How he comes to put his arms around my grief when I hear another story of illness and disease.  How he sits next to me when I remember the empty places that will be at our family's table this year and sadness starts to drown my inner thoughts.  How he laughs with me when my 2 year old son is old enough to be excited this year for lights and boxes covered with foil and ribbon.  How he delights in the quiet nights that my husband and I will spend with the tree brightly lit, and our living room dimmed, and reflect on the past year.

Jesus came.  He is coming again.  And he comes every day.  Adventus.  It is the greatest of all mysteries, and envelopes us every day.  The great King Jesus, baby, friend, God, savior, prince, faithful friend, redeemer.

Adventus!  Come, Lord Jesus!

Twelve Pieces

The Story - Chapter 8

A man is walking through town, eager to return home with his concubine, servant, and donkeys.  He is a Levite from the hill country, who is returning from claiming his concubine who had ran away to her father's house.  He has passed through Jerusalem, he is resting at Gibeah, in the heart of Benjamin country.  It's growing dark, and he's unsure of why no one is extending hospitality to him and his small entourage.

Another man walks through the square - asking why the Levite is there.  After an explanation, he pleads with him to not stay in the square overnight but to come to his house.  All are relieved.  They feed the donkeys.  They sit to eat.  They break bread.

And then they hear men's voices surrounding the house.  There is terror - and fists began pounding on the door..."Give us your guest!  We want to know him personally!"  Much like Sodom and Gomorrah, the host of the house offers his virgin daughter and the man's concubine.  They refuse - they want the man.  And in an act of hostility I still don't understand to this day, they take the woman and abuse her throughout the night.  The abuse is so horrific, she crawls back to her host's doorstep, only to die there.The Levite opens the door to see her there, and tells her to get up.  He realizes what has happened, and carries her dead body onto his donkey and makes the rest of his journey home.

I wonder about that last leg of his journey.  Did he feel regret?  Revenge?  Sadness?  How could he have treated her so carelessly!?  Clearly he cared enough for this woman that he went and sought her out, at least a two day journey, to have her back.  And there she was, her silent, lifeless body, riding into the hill country.

We know one thing.  He faced anger.  Outrage.  He takes her body and carves into 12 pieces.  I wonder if there were tears.  I wonder if he remembers the arms that held him, as he wrapped them so carefully.  Each piece, each memory, is carefully parceled and sent out to each tribe - "This is what Benjamin has done.  This is how they treated her.  This is what they took from me."

Benjamin is later confronted and refuses to give up the "perverted men" of the city.  In the remaining eleven tribes, there is anger at Benjamin for protecting those wicked men. There is war.  And the tribes make an oath to not give any of their daughters to the men of Benjamin because of their horrid wickedness to the concubine and the Levite.  Benjamin is almost wiped out as God grants the rest of Israel victory over their brothers.  And 12 pieces are exchanged for the lives of 25,000 men.

There are many who suffer horrendous things and wonder if God ever sees, or ever cares.  The pieces of our lives can feel scattered - reminders to others that we are damaged, that wicked people have pursued us, that ugliness has found us and had its way.  We wonder where God is.  We wonder if people will ever be brought to justice.  We wonder if God cares.

The answer is He does.  We serve a God that does not rest easy when we're overtaken by the fallen state of humanity.  He doesn't slumber when even one of us suffers at the hand of another.

The story ends with Israel weeping because almost an entire tribe has been annihilated - they had to bring justice, and were willing to count the cost.  Benjamin, once strong and sure, is reduced to 600 survivors.  And in here we see the heart of a God who is not only holy, but wants to redeem.  He provides wives for the survivors, and in turn, raises champions and leaders from a wreckage of a situation - Saul, Mordecai, and more.

I struggle with this story.  And I know so much has changed.  That's why I love Jesus - he elevated my status into "two or more" instead of a safe-guarded investment, property to be handled.  I don't understand the Levite's mixed love for this woman.  I don't know if he anticipated what would happen.  I don't know if he struck down Benjamites on the field of war in anger because of the deep pit of regret he went to bed with every night.

But what I do know is this...in the hands of a sovereign God, as a woman, I am deeply loved and he doesn't take my treatment lightly.  I am His and He is mine.

Eliza Cortés Bast

I am a Rock.

Chapter 7 - The Story

Joshua!  How rich and full for one brief biography in the expanse of the Bible.  And the feelings his story evoke!  He is as memorable as he is quotable.

And yet, nestled in, is another theme engaging the entire nation of Israel.  Before committing him and his house, before outwitting and outlasting kings, before the terrible defeat at Ai, and before the mighty victory at Jericho, was another water-crossing.  A distant memory for the young nation whose previous descendants crossed the mighty Red Sea under Moses, this new generation would get to experience the storied miracle anew.  Yet there was no staff and bearded shepherd - this water crossing would follow the ark of the covenant, the ark of testimony of the wilderness.  They would be following the Spirit of God across the river.

They pick up their belongings.  The waters ebb away as the priests carrying the ark step into the clear water.  Dry land, dry ground.  A reminder that their miraculous God is still moving, still committed to the precious promise of a land dedicated for them.  "Follow me, I've got this, I still remember you and my word to you."  I wonder if Joshua felt gripped in his heart watching God perform the same miracle that He had performed for Joshua's mentor, Moses.  A reminder to Joshua too - "Be strong, be courageous, I'm with you too."  And they cross the river Jordan together, never to go back.

In my house, and on my desk, I keep little stones.  The one in my bathroom says, "I am not my own, I was bought with a price."  The one in my keepsake box from college is a reminder of God's peace.  If you enter my office, the stone there says, "Passion" - a reminder for ministry and direction.  Joshua asks each tribe to carry a large stone across the Jordan and set it up as a reminder.  Joshua 4 says, "In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”

We all cross a Jordan in our life.  We can even cross multiple rivers.  Places where God asks us to trust Him deeply and not ever go back to our old ways of living or believing.  The temptation is so strong to cross back over, be safe, figure out a different route.  What stops us cold in our tracks can be the simple reminder of God's amazing goodness and the call to not go back.  A pile of rocks.

What's even more astounding, is Peter's reference to stones in 1 Peter 2.  We are invited to know the "living Stone" - Jesus - the rejected cornerstone.  And even better, Peter calls us living stones also, being built into a spiritual house.  We look to Jesus, our reminder that God's got this, he's with us.  When my children ask me about the Living Stone, I can tell them too how Jesus found me in my own Egypt, enslaved to sin.  I crossed over and He's my rock.

And to a watching world?  Well, I'm glad I can be a living stone too.  For a world that is wondering where is a God who loves and cares, a God who is real, I stand next to that great river on the side of promise saying, "Cross here too".  Why?  Because the cross lives there too.  I've crossed there through the power of a resurrected Jesus.  Simon and Garfunkle said it best...I am a rock.  I am a reminder of Jesus.

Eliza Cortés Bast