Part 14 (1/2)

”Yeah,” I said, ”but that just was not cool at all.”

We finished cleaning up, and I headed to my gate to catch my flight.

ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES AFTER DEPARTING BOSTON, I PUT down my magazine and shut my eyes in hopes of taking a short nap. G.o.d had other plans in mind.

”Think this one over, Bill,” he said. ”Any idea why you didn't defend the busboy right away, instead of waiting for so long to step in and help?”

My reflexive response was that I was exercising sober judgment. I mean, if I had rushed onto the scene too quickly, perhaps the other three drunks would have jumped the busboy and me.

I explained all of this to the Holy Spirit, who was unimpressed. ”How about the truth this time?” I sensed him whisper.

In that window-seat at thirty thousand feet, I came face-to-face with the fact that I'd been more concerned about getting punched in the nose than about relieving the plight of someone in need. I can be bold in certain settings, but the strain of cowardice that still lurks within me was tough to deny that day.

Over the coming months and years, G.o.d would continue to whisper encouragement for me to take that airport lesson to heart. ”Prize life,” he seemed to say. ”Defend life, fight for life and help others to live life in all its abundance until you face your dying day.”

I'd be driving down the freeway and would see a car with a b.u.mper sticker that read, ”Abortion stops a beating heart,” and think, ”That makes perfect sense to me. Abortion kills the most innocent of lives, and babies' lives matter to G.o.d. This must stop.”

Similarly, I'd flip to a channel where pundits were embroiled in a debate about capital punishment and think, ”The same life G.o.d treasures in the womb matters all the way to the end.”

I'd visit someone who was incarcerated and drive away thinking, ”He screwed up and now he is serving his time, but I'm someone who has screwed up as well. I'm thankful we both matter to G.o.d.”

I'd flip through the news channels on TV and watch yet another war break out somewhere on our planet. I'd sit back and sigh and think, ”It all starts with the devaluing of life.” Someone said or did something that set someone else off, and then they retaliated, and now look at our sorry state of affairs.

”Love your enemies,” Jesus said on the Sermon on the Mount, ”and pray for those who persecute you.”19 In that same set of instructions, he suggested an even more radical idea: In Matthew 5:21a22, Jesus told his followers to avoid using coa.r.s.e language when speaking to one other, because such words could incite animosity. ”I'm telling you that anyone who is so much as angry with a brother or sister is guilty of murder. Carelessly call a brother 'idiot!' and you just might find yourself hauled into court. Thoughtlessly yell 'stupid!' at a sister and you are on the brink of h.e.l.lfire. The simple moral fact is that words kill” (MSG).

”Sticks and stones may break my bones,” the childhood rhyme says, ”but names will never hurt me.” You and I both know those words couldn't be more untrue. Jesus recognized that when people call each other names, someone is going to get hurt. He might lash back with a few choice words of his own, and then the escalation begins: the war of words can become the war of fists, which can become the war of knives, which can become the war of bombs that divides one nation against another. And violence and bloodshed were never G.o.d's dream for how life on planet Earth would go. His ”plan A” for us was that we would partner with him in valuing life-all life in all its varied and beautiful forms.

G.o.d cares deeply about a litany of things, but in Scripture, certain pa.s.sions rise to the top. In many places in his Word, G.o.d specifically advocates for the poor, the orphaned, the alien, the widow and more. G.o.d defends the underdog and asks us to do the same. ”If you want to align yourself with your Father's heart,” he seems to say, ”then pay close attention to these things I care most about.”

None of the things that matter to G.o.d can be ignored by those who love him, but it has been my observation that sometimes G.o.d will a.s.sign a few of his issues to particular followers in an accentuated way. He'll hand out specific a.s.signments by saying, ”On all of these fronts keep a watchful eye, but in this area I want you to step up!”

I don't know what that specific area might be for you, but I know the One who does. Persist in asking him what a.s.signment he has in mind for you, and then stay wide open to what he says in reply. Granted, it takes a certain level of spiritual maturity to listen for whispers beyond our immediate needs. If our constant plea to G.o.d has centered on asking him to attend to our own injustices-”Fix my husband!” or ”Fix my teenager!” or, ”Please, G.o.d, fix my job!”-it can feel more than a little awkward to suddenly ask, ”What justice issue is unfolding in this world that I might be able to help solve?”

But based on feedback from numerous people I know who have risked praying that exact bold prayer, I a.s.sure you that maintaining a broader vision for the world-taking up a cause for justice that is dear to G.o.d's heart-will yield blessing in your life. I'm taking my own medicine in this regard, as evidenced by the final story I'll share.

FOR YEARS I HAVE BEEN ASKED BY CHURCH LEADERS AND government leaders alike to get involved in reforming this country's immigration policies, but I had not felt G.o.d's nudge in that direction-until recently. Through a series of events, I now sense that G.o.d is once again rocking my world.

Since 2004, Willow has hosted a Spanish-speaking ministry called Casa de Luz (”House of Light”) that meets each weekend on our campus. Their teaching pastor is one of a handful of leaders who convene in my office each week, where together we craft new and inventive ways for continuing to support and strengthen various ministries within the church. For some time now, he has been lifting up the need to come alongside members of Casa's congregation who face deportation and the certain tearing apart of family units-families that are every bit as much a part of Willow as my family is. G.o.d started stirring my soul through the simple stories this pastor would tell.

Now, throughout my adult life-and increasingly in recent years as the immigration debate has heated up in our country-I'd certainly been aware of the complexity of this issue. I'd even bought into some a.s.sumptions I had never really taken the time to explore: ”Illegal immigrants should follow the rules, stand in line and enter the country legally.” ”Illegal immigrants don't pay taxes.” ”Illegal immigrants take jobs away from legal Americans.”

I had figured my a.s.sumptions were correct, end of story.

Then, about three months ago, I was given a book t.i.tled Welcoming the Stranger: Justice, Compa.s.sion and Truth in the Immigration Debate,20 and when I got to the chapter called ”Thinking Biblically about Immigration,” something in my conscience snapped. I read verse after verse about how G.o.d desired his followers to treat foreigners in their midst. How had I not noticed all these pa.s.sages before? The single thought that kept swirling in my mind was, ”Immigrants matter to G.o.d.”

For the last three Elder meetings, we invited immigration experts to come educate us on the size and complexity of the problem, as well as the role that the local church could be filling to help solve it. Those meetings have proven invaluable as I seek to come up to speed on a situation that is imperiling the lives of so many within Willow's flock-and around our country. Last week, I met with seven pastors from the Chicago area who are serious about seeing our city changed by G.o.d's grace. The issue of immigration reform happened to come up, and one of the pastors informed us that he and his wife had just taken in two young girls whose parents were deported that week. ”They didn't have anywhere to go,” he explained, ”so until further notice, they're as much a part of our family as my biological children are.”

I stared at him from across the table and thought, ”This pastor is describing one of the most Christlike actions I have heard about in recent days.” I drove away from that meeting asking myself if I'd be willing to disrupt my life like that. This guy has already raised a family of his own and is nearing the empty-nest years with his wife. Yeah, I know immigrants matter to G.o.d and everything-but starting over with two new kids? That's a world-rocker to beat them all!

But isn't this how G.o.d often works? He knows that if he can radically rock enough individual worlds, the whole world one day will change. And I can't help but picture him smiling broadly at the magnificent prospect of a day such as that.

From what I've observed of G.o.d's ways thus far, he has no plans for changing his world-rocking approach anytime soon. What's more, my bet is that he has a world-rocking whisper that bears your name. Is there a book he has been prompting you to read? A question he has been prompting you to ask? A doc.u.mentary you need to watch or a trip you need to take? Maybe it is a prompting simply to ”linger”-over a verse in the Bible, on a given website, with a particular person, in a specific moment. Whatever his whisper sounds like, I hope you'll heed the instruction it brings. To care deeply about the crown of G.o.d's creation-humanity in all its colors, shapes and sizes-and to make sacrifices on its behalf...there is no greater satisfaction in all the earth.

CHAPTER 10.

JUST SAY THE WORD.

IMET A MAN MANY YEARS AGO WHO REDEFINED MY UNDERstanding of what it means to say yes to the whispered words of G.o.d. Gerry Couchman's path and mine crossed shortly before he surrendered his life to Christ. Although he was a businessman working in Cape Town, South Africa, he happened to be in Chicago, exploring a joint venture with a local company. The CEO of that firm, a man who has long been part of our church, invited Gerry to attend a Sat.u.r.day night service at Willow.

Gerry had grown up in a mainline denomination and had attended church from ages four to twenty-one. But at no time during that entire tenure had anyone challenged him with the possibility of a personal relations.h.i.+p with Jesus Christ. Without that necessary anchor in place, he didn't see much use in being part of a church. He married and moved on with life. As you'd imagine, he was less than thrilled when the CEO of that company asked him to go to church. Gerry later told me that in his country, only ”strange sects” do church on Sat.u.r.day nights, but because his host had promised the service would be short, and he would foot the bill for pizza and beer afterward, Gerry decided to go.

What he didn't know was that while he was begrudgingly making his way to Willow, his wife, Janine, and the church she belonged to back in South Africa were praying for Gerry to make some kind of spiritual progress while on his trip. They had been praying for Gerry for two straight years, and just before his trek to the States, they had gathered covertly to pray that someone whom Gerry would meet might serve as the catalyst for him to surrender his life to Christ.

As Gerry tells it, if the church of his youth had been anything like what he experienced that Sat.u.r.day night at Willow, he never would have left. He watched excited kids rus.h.i.+ng to get to their children's ministry cla.s.ses and contrasted that to how his mom had needed to yank him out of the car and drag him to Sunday school. He watched teens from student ministry cleaning various parts of the church (and seemingly enjoying it!). In his own teenage years, hanging out at church was considered anything but fun. As he sat in the service and the offering plates were pa.s.sed, Gerry was blown away by being asked, as a guest, not to give-but rather to just let the service be G.o.d's gift to him. On the heels of these and other observations, he received what he now knows to be his very first whisper from G.o.d: ”The church can be like this in South Africa, Gerry, and I think that you can help.”

Everything would change from there.

Two months after that Sat.u.r.day night service, Gerry was on a business trip in Saudi Arabia. Late one night in the quiet of his hotel room, he surrendered his life to Christ. A year following that major decision, he nearly drained his pension fund so that he and Janine could attend a conference Willow was hosting, a conference on building prevailing churches. Partway through the third session on day two, G.o.d whispered again. ”Be my hands and feet to the local church,” Gerry sensed him saying.

Gerry eyed his wife, who was eyeing him right back. She had received the same whisper and at the very same moment. They were intrigued, but clueless. What did it look like to be the ”hands and feet” of Christ? They flew back to Cape Town restless and unsure, but with a sense of antic.i.p.ation.

GERRY AND HIS WIFE CONDINUED TO FOLLOW THE FIRST whisper he had received-to help their church in Cape Town prevail as it never had before. But all the while, they continued to wonder about the ”hands and feet” request.

Months after they received that enigmatic whisper, Gerry's wife felt led to contact the Willow Creek a.s.sociation in South Africa, to see how she and Gerry might a.s.sist other local churches looking for new levels of effectiveness. After a string of phone calls, in-person interviews and heartfelt prayers, the Couchmans packed up their belongings, left their beloved home in Cape Town and moved eight hundred miles away to the city of Pretoria, where they joined the WCA full-time. They have served there in stellar fas.h.i.+on for the past seven years. And it all traces back to a whisper-one that Gerry was still trying to decode.

What does it look like for me to be the hands and feet of Christ? he wondered. The very fact that Gerry was investing so much time and energy answering that question would have amused anyone who knew Gerry well. He came from a no-nonsense family, and his parents, despite encouraging their children to faithfully partic.i.p.ate in church activities, had themselves not surrendered their lives to Christ. His dad ran a construction company, and his mom was a hard-nosed accountant. Gerry himself had devoted much of his early life to studying chemistry, so for him, anything that couldn't be proven by scientific facts and figures was hardly worth a second look. Yet here he was, redirecting his entire life based solely on a cryptic prompting from G.o.d. It must have pegged his loved ones' weird-meters big time.

It would take nearly four years for Gerry to gain insight into the hand-and-feet whisper that had been mystifying him for so long.

In his role in Pretoria, Gerry served local church pastors as they worked to improve in their ministry leaders.h.i.+p. One of those pastors was Tim Hawkridge, minister of Somerset West United Church. The more Gerry got to know Tim, the more impressed he was by the man's strong faith.

As a young man of twenty-six, Tim had been diagnosed with polycystic kidney disease, but because the disease can be slow-progressing in nature, his health wasn't adversely affected until nearly twenty years had pa.s.sed. At age forty-five, Tim's renal function began to deteriorate, and a month after he turned forty-six, he was diagnosed with end-stage renal failure. The only solution was a kidney transplant, and if a kidney wasn't immediately available, he would need to start dialysis treatments right away.

Tim had known for many years that his condition would someday lead to renal failure unless G.o.d chose to intervene. But the reality that ”someday” was here still hit him like a ton of bricks. It wasn't death that concerned him; he had committed his life to Christ and knew he would spend eternity with G.o.d. It was the potential loss of his quality of life and ministry to others that upset him, the thought of hanging on by a thread in a hospital bed for the balance of his years on earth.

Over the course of several months, many people offered to donate a kidney to Tim. But well-intentioned members of his family and congregation, one by one, were ruled out. Some had health issues, some had blood issues, and for some the medical risk was too high.

Tim began receiving dialysis a few times a week. During this grueling, three-hour procedure, Tim sat hooked up to a machine that filtered and cleaned his blood, removing impurities and toxins that had built up-a job usually performed by healthy, functioning kidneys. During those agonizing treatments, Tim had plenty of time to hear G.o.d's whispers. One particular day, he recalls consciously resolving to trust G.o.d with his situation and to quit stewing about what ”might be.” A verse he had memorized years earlier came to mind: ”If we live, we live to the Lord,” Romans 14:8 says. ”And if we die, we die to the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.”

Resigned to a rhythm of dialysis as a part of his life, Tim engaged the medical staff wholeheartedly and even led several of them to faith in Christ. He focused on his ever-expanding gift of compa.s.sion for those who suffer long-term illness, a compa.s.sion fueled by his own painful, physical plight.

Despite his sense of resignation about ever finding a kidney donor, Tim still believed G.o.d had something important for him to do. ”Dying from the lack of a kidney transplant,” he sensed, ”just isn't my fate in life.” G.o.d whispered words from Isaiah 43:2, saying, ”When you pa.s.s through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pa.s.s through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.”

The physical firestorm he was enduring would not burn him up.