Category Archives: May 2021 Chips

My Kids Are Training ME

My Kids Are Training ME

When my kids fight, we often know the ‘instigator’ – the one kid who started it, is at fault, and needs to apologize. Once we know who is at fault, they have to say “I’m sorry.” But this is the hard part—they have to say it like they mean it. Not in a short tone. Not in a have-to type voice. Sometimes, we ask them to ask their siblings for forgiveness. “Will you forgive me?” is a hard line to swallow.

I can’t say this process often goes well, but it’s a constant rehearsal for so many things in life coming their way.

What amazes me is that the other sibling 99% of the time is quick to express forgiveness with an, “I forgive you,” response. Sometimes they aren’t ready, but almost always the conflict is over as soon as it began and everyone moves on.

I wish adult conflicts were just as easy. I suspect they are, but our hard-headed minds and hearts don’t have a lingering parent on the scene to intervene and stop a spat before it goes too far.

One of the hardest things I’m learning to do as a parent is to ask my kids for forgiveness.  When we’re running late for school (again) and I lose my cool (again), I inevitably have to humble down in my position as mom and ask my kids for forgiveness. For not being the type of parent I desire to be, for getting too frustrated with them and letting it out by yelling waaaay too much. THIS IS HARD. I don’t want to humble myself either. But I’m telling you—this is one of the coolest and safest places to practice walking in forgiveness.   I’m learning the quicker I can jump to asking for it, the easier it is.

If asking for forgiveness is a foreign concept, practice it with those nearest to you. Kids are a great training zone. I’m hoping in modeling my need for a Savior, they too will learn to run quickly to the other side of anger and pride and be bearers of forgiveness well into their later years

Leah Carolan
Director of Worship & Media


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    I like to wear a mask. (Not the pandemic kind but the kind I hide behind.) I do this to protect myself. If people really knew me, I’m afraid that they will not like what they saw. I have a hunch that I am not the only one with this fear.

    Donald Miller wrote about this in the book Through Painted Deserts: “Relationships aren’t the best thing, if you ask me. People can be quite untrustworthy, and the more you get to know them – by that I mean the more you let somebody know who you really are – the more it feels as though something is at stake. And that makes me nervous. It takes me a million years to get to know anybody pretty well, and even then the slightest thing will set me off. I feel it in my chest, this desire to disassociate. I don’t mean to be a jerk about it but this is how I am wired. If I coil, I’d probably have formula friends because that would be safe.”

    Real, authentic community is not safe. We take risks when we disclose who we really are. We risk exposing our mess. We risk entering into another person’s mess. We risk taking off our masks. We are the kind of people who leave the safety of the cover-up. We do life together.

    Romans 12:15 invites us to “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” We can only live like this if we all take our masks off and live in authentic community. Will we be real? Or live like imposters?

    Authenticity Requires Grace

    It seems like every day I hear more outrage. We live in a polarized world where opinions fall on opposite ends of every issue and many of us take delight in proclaiming our differences. Over time these disagreements turn to anger and outrage. How can “they” be so wrong?

    Outrage creates fear and breaks down relationships. When it is not safe to say what we really think, we stop talking. Outrage kills authenticity. To know each other and be known by each other does not require agreement, but it does require safety in disagreeing. Authenticity requires grace.

    James 1:19-20 says, “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry

    Kent Landhuis
    Pastor of Teaching & Leadership

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      Gospel-Centered Authenticity

      Gospel-Centered Authenticity

      It seems that no matter how much the world celebrates authenticity, it doesn’t know how to find the real thing. Often the more authentic people appear, the less authentic they are. Think of the Instagrammer who spends forever on her “no makeup” selfie, the guy who bares his soul as a pick-up technique, or the marketer who sells shabby chic as a brand.

      Likewise, modern Christianity is trying hard to purge itself of a polished veneer that has smacked of hypocrisy. There’s something good in our desire for “authenticity.” We’re tired of masks, and we want to get real. But what if “authenticity” has become just another mask—one more covering for our sins?

      The felt need to not “put on a face” betrays the real issue: people don’t want authenticity, they want solidarity. They want to feel they aren’t alone in falling short, so they desire openness and vulnerability from others, but by focusing on brokenness as proof our “realness” and “authenticity,” have Christians turned “being screwed up” into a badge of honor, its own sort of works righteousness?

      This mindset represents a skewed understanding of sin. It’s almost as if our sins have become a currency of solidarity – something we pat each other on the back about as fellow authentic, broken people, but sin should always be grieved rather than celebrated. We’ve become too comfortable with our sin, to the point that it’s how we identify ourselves and relate to others.

      Has this type of authenticity become a higher calling than, say, holiness? Shouldn’t we find connection over Christ, rather than over our depravity? Yes, sin is part of our story as redeemed people. We shouldn’t ignore or make light of it, but we also shouldn’t wallow in it or take it lightly for the sake of earning authenticity points.

      In Romans 6:1-14, Paul says the abounding grace of God is never grounds for living in and under the reign of sin. Those saved by grace through faith in Jesus experience a profound union with Him, so that His death and resurrection become our death and resurrection. Though Jesus died for our sins, we’re to die to our sins. That is, we’re to consider ourselves dead to sin, so that sin doesn’t reign over us.

      The power of death and sin are broken in the death of Jesus, and we’re called to live out this reality. When we embrace our brokenness, our “old self” (Romans 6:6), allowing sin to reign over and in our lives, we distort God’s grace. Just as the end goal of Jesus’s death was His resurrection to life, so the end goal of our death to sin is a life of righteousness (Romans 6:15-18).

      True authenticity comes when we love and pursue God and the truth that He reveals in His Word and collectively encourage each other, by grace, in the direction of Christ-likeness. We should move in that direction, by grace and through the power of the Holy Spirit. You may seem a broken mess, but by the grace of God, your old self is crucified with Christ. You can walk in newness of life, because God’s divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3).

      When we tell the truth about our design, brokenness, redeemed status in Christ, and the end goal toward which believers are moving, we can have life-transformative, gospel-centered authenticity.

      Gary Sager
      Ambassador of Care

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        Bad Things Stink

        Bad Things Stink

        Recently in the Bible Recap we read Joshua 7 and the story of Achan.  Here’s a brief synopsis to remind you about Achan:  When the Israelites conquered Jericho, Achan disobeyed God by keeping some of the gold and silver from Jericho for himself.  Achan hid what he had stolen and tried to cover up his sin.  God dealt with Achan severely because God hates dishonesty.  Even though God hates lying and stealing He will forgive you when you are seeking repentance.

        As I listened to the story, I started to giggle as I recalled a story I’ve heard many times about dishonesty and hiding.  My high school English teacher, Mrs. Nett, loved to tell this story.  Now, as a parent, it makes more sense and is quite simple:  bad things stink! One day at school as a young child, Mrs. Nett had to use the restroom.  Actually, a #2 to be specific.  However, she knew the teacher would not let her go during the middle of the lesson.  A few minutes later she made herself comfortable.  Then, she carefully waddled to the Kleenex box, grabbed a couple tissues, and tiptoed back to her desk.  Using the Kleenex she wrapped herself a nice #2 present and carefully hid it inside her desk, just like Achan hid his gold and silver.  Later, the teacher walked by and asked if she needed to use the restroom.  This was followed with an honest reply “Nope!”  In the afternoon the teacher took her aside privately and asked what she was smelling.  Mrs. Nett told the teacher the truth about her #2 present.  Her stink was found, just as God perceived Achan’s sin.

        As a high schooler I remember laughing uncontrollably as Mrs. Nett would tell the detail laden story.  As an adult, I’ve watched my two littles hide in the corner to make their #2 presents in their diapers.  Oh, do they smell!  As a potty-training parent, I’ve found a present in the corner of a bedroom because of an atrocious stink!  It makes me ponder:  Our sin stinks!  It will be found!  Parents, teach your children to be free from the stink of dishonesty!  Parents, remind your children that God will forgive their sin if they say sorry.

        Cathy Poole
        Children’s Ministry


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          An Unexpected Renewed Friendship

          An Unexpected Renewed Friendship

          Of the three members of the Trinity, whom are you least familiar with? Of the three, to whom do you have the most trouble relating?

          A very good friend challenged me with this question recently.  And to be honest, it was a great question and the start of a beautiful and unexpected journey to renew a friendship that I had largely ignored most of my life.

          I know God the Father. I get Him.  I get what He does.  I like His sovereignty.  His gentle hand. His interactions with His people.  I picture Him with a nice fatherly face.  And because I have an awesome earthly human father, I find it super easy to relate to God the Father and talk to him.  Because I know his actions in sending Jesus to earth, I know His love for me.  He gave up His son for me.  I can understand all of that.  And so when I talk to Him, I can see Him and thank Him and dialogue with Him.

          I know Jesus! I can picture Him.  When I pray, I know where He’s at and can picture Him sitting on His throne, just to the right of God the Father. He has a body.  He has brown hair.  He has scars in His hands and feet, but also a white robe.  He’s a carpenter. He’s coming back on a white horse.  His eyes are like flaming fire.   His actions on the cross showed me exactly how much He loves me. He is my brother, and also my King. And so when I talk to Him, I can see Him and love Him.

          But the Holy Spirit?  This one was harder.    In my head, He was a concept or a thing, but not a HE.  He was an IT or a THE.  It’s like His name leads to strange concepts.  And where is He?  I wasn’t even sure.  I couldn’t picture Him in the throne room.  Does He even sit down? Does He have a chair with the others?  In my mind, He doesn’t have a body like Jesus and Father.   He doesn’t bare scars. He’s not a King with a robe and a horse.  So what does He look like?

          So, taking my wise mentor’s advice, I sat down and started to talk to Him as a person and ask questions.  She challenged me to bring my journal along and write down what I hear.

          Amazing process! The first thing I did was drop the ‘the’ from my vocabulary.  The Holy Spirit’s name is Holy Spirit.  He is a He, not a ‘the’ –a person that I can talk to directly.  He has roles – He is a counselor, a guide, a friend.  He helps us search our hearts to reveal brokenness, heartaches, sin – and then, as the best and most gentle counselor, helps us process them and break the chains of all these things.

          Once I started the process, I had so many questions! What do You look like? Where do you reside? Do you have a throne chair?  How can I find You?

          Together, this great friend and counselor walked me through memory after memory of events that had created little fractures in my childhood heart, offered me healing and wholeness, and showed me how to release them back to Him and walk in greater degrees of forgiveness.

          He showed me where He was in the most challenging moments of my life, how His presence was there to guide and counsel me even when I was unaware of Him and did not yet know Him as friend.

          And those journals I had been pouring my heart into over the last 20 years? I was writing to Him.  That time spent crying in agony, reading the Psalms out loud while lying in my bed? I was crying out to Him.  That inspiration to stop in the middle of giant snow storm and buy my wedding dress at that very moment–Him–delighting in my love for a good deal.

          One of the biggest things I’ve learned in this newly renewed friendship is how to connect with Him.  He stands at the door and knocks, I merely respond, “I invite You in.”  Simple.

          He does not condemn. He does not shame.  He is so gentle! And even though the pain of reliving old memories was hard, letting Him show me where He was in the process was so completely healing – my trust in Him and love for Him only increased.

          In terms of being authentic with our friends, this is one where I am completely me and completely accepted and completely loved.

          Leah Carolan
          Director of Worship & Media


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