A friend asked me these questions. This was my quick response... better answers would have been achieved in dialogue!
What characterises Gen Y?
This generation expects everything instantly – email, photos, results. RSVP’s are outmoded because people don’t commit until the very last second. Information is not a scarce commodity or hard to come by. They are overwhelmed with information. The biggest challenge is knowing what information to trust… and so the source becomes more important than the content. In this context, relationships take on a whole new meaning. Relationships, not information, are now the source of power. And relationships themselves are morphing. Facebook, etc. make keeping in touch with hundreds of people regularly so much easier. And some people are substituting real intimacy for electronic interaction – facebook, online gaming, etc. It is a false intimacy because people only reveal what they want to of themselves.
What do they value?
Freedom and authenticity. They feel that it is important to be able to do what they want – no commitments (hence no rsvps), so limits.
But they are also aware that so much of what is presented is managed by the image makers – TV producers, internet websites, even their own facebook pages. Authenticity becomes a rare commodity – and powerful when encountered. Slick is good (almost essential) but real is better.
What are they searching for?
Hope. Materially their lives are better than any previous generation, and they know it. They are also aware that their self-centred consumerism is destroying the planet. But there seems little point in one person stopping, so they all continue. And they refuse to think about the consequences. There is no viable alternative. But if someone presented “hope” for a better future – one that could “top” their present high – then they would be interested.
What are their needs?
They need to learn how to relate authentically. They need to learn the core values of living in a democracy – not just a secular, humanistic society. They need to learn how to live simply. They need to understand how spiritual life underlies the rest of their lives... informing it and shaping it and determining it.
How are they unique from other generations?
They are the most prosperous. They are the most connected. They are the most ignorant of spiritual things.
How can we best reach and address their needs as a mission or church body?
I really believe that a multitude of approaches is needed – broad sowing (to regularly connect with the disconnected), focussed relational (so that Xns are working specifically with their friends) and incarnational (being salt and light).
The problem with the Church is that the trend in Western cultures over the last 30 years has been to higher quality, more professional ministry. The distance between the average pastor and the average layperson is growing. Lay people are not being expected to do as much – and they are walking away from active ministry. Therefore, even the few non-Churched people who have Xns friends are less likely to be effectively engaged by them with the gospel. We need to do better at mobilising (equipping and releasing) the laity.
Mobilising Gen Y Xns means forming them into mission teams who can work flexibly towards a common goal together. Isolated Xns are ineffective.
The Church can use multimedia effectively to conduct broad sowing ministry. It can also be used for certain types of follow up. And it should be used far more for equipping Xns. Online courses are becoming increasingly popular (even on iTunes) but need to be directed more to mobilising laity rather than repeating formal theological training.
Tuesday, 23 December 2008
Wednesday, 17 December 2008
Greatest Australian Challenge
The greatest challenge that faith faces in Australia today is that the dominant metanarrative guiding people's every decision is so pervasively secular that spiritual issues are not seen as being true or false, real or fake, but simply irrelevant.
Tuesday, 9 December 2008
Give 10% of Government's Christmas Bonus to Charity
Give Away 10% of Government's Christmas Bonus to Charity
Over these next two weeks the Australian Federal Government will be giving $1,000 per child to parents on low income, and $1,400 to single and $2,100 to couples with a senior card. These government handouts (costing a total of $10 billion) were totally unexpected a couple of months ago.
The message from the government is that this short term stimulus package is designed to boost the economy, protect jobs and avoid a recession. The Prime Minister, and other senior government officials, have been urging those receiving the handout to spend it - and before Christmas.
Supposedly, consumption is the cure for our current economic ills. Now I recognise that many of the people receiving this bonus are in desperate need. They have suffered under Australia's high interest rates and petrol prices over the last year or two. But I dispute the assumption that material prosperity is the sole (or even main) measure of our performance as a nation. The best way to break a materialistic mindset is to maintain a practice of generosity through a habit of giving.
One discipline, a spiritual discipline, that we could put in place is to give away 10% of this government windfall to a charity or not-for-profit organisation. Giving away $100 or $200 reminds us that we are not just consumers, we are citizens. We are not victims of financial circumstances, we have a choice.
What are some reasons we should give away 10% of this bonus?
Over these next two weeks the Australian Federal Government will be giving $1,000 per child to parents on low income, and $1,400 to single and $2,100 to couples with a senior card. These government handouts (costing a total of $10 billion) were totally unexpected a couple of months ago.
The message from the government is that this short term stimulus package is designed to boost the economy, protect jobs and avoid a recession. The Prime Minister, and other senior government officials, have been urging those receiving the handout to spend it - and before Christmas.
Supposedly, consumption is the cure for our current economic ills. Now I recognise that many of the people receiving this bonus are in desperate need. They have suffered under Australia's high interest rates and petrol prices over the last year or two. But I dispute the assumption that material prosperity is the sole (or even main) measure of our performance as a nation. The best way to break a materialistic mindset is to maintain a practice of generosity through a habit of giving.
One discipline, a spiritual discipline, that we could put in place is to give away 10% of this government windfall to a charity or not-for-profit organisation. Giving away $100 or $200 reminds us that we are not just consumers, we are citizens. We are not victims of financial circumstances, we have a choice.
What are some reasons we should give away 10% of this bonus?
- In times of economic downturn the demands on charities goes up and the donations to charities goes down;
- We commit to being citizens, not just consumers;
- We can involve our children in deciding which charity to support - thus instilling in them the value of generosity;
- We reflect the generosity of God who gave His Son, Jesus to us, which we remember at Christmas;
- At Christmas lunch, you will feel better about helping the Salvos or Wesley Mission or ... rather than having spent that extra $100 on an imported toy which now lies broken on the floor;
- We complain about the greed of corporate executives who get huge bonuses and seem to spend them selfishly. Now is our opportunity to demonstrate generosity with a Christmas bonus.
Monday, 1 December 2008
December Craziness
I sat down this morning to write out my "to do" list for the day. Most of us feel the craziness of the weeks leading up to Christmas. I am no different.
In his book, "How To Get Things Done", David Allen talks about some basic principles:
1) If it can be done in less than 2 minutes, do it straight away;
2) If it will take more than two minutes:
a) schedule it for a particular time; or
b) add it to a list of things to do when you have time to work on it.
I seem to have a fair amount of flexible time this week, and lots of things to try to fit in the schedule. I couldn't do any of these at 8am on Monday morning, so here is the list I came up with:
1) A ministry leader/friend (Howard) from the US is visiting this week and staying with another ministry leader/friend (Richard). Call Richard to work out when I will meet with Howard.
2) CM2009 conference needs to have major issues planned this week:
+ check on development of the online registration website;
+ post more flyers to pastors/friends of the ministry (I've already sent out 5,000);
+ call Wesley Mission to work out details for catering, venue specifications re: lighting and sound;
3) U@NU? is the SL summer project I am involved with in January. We have a meeting today. I need to re-write some training in time for the printing deadline;
4) US Green Cards. Liz has a meeting with the US Consulate in Sydney on Thursday morning to begin the process of obtaining Green Cards for Philip, Katrise and me. We need to ensure all the paperwork is completed, all the supporting documentation is gathered and completed and copied.
5) TH501: this week is the last week for my Theology course. I need to:
+ listen to the online lectures;
+ complete the extra reading;
+ contribute to the online forum discussing this week's issue.
6) Prepare for next major study exercise:
+ print John's gospel in Gk for me to write on;
+ buy technical commentary on Gk to further my understanding of John's gospel.
7) Christmas cards:
+ Write Christmas letter (and get it printed);
+ Take Christmas photo (?);
+ Compile Christmas cards
+ Post Christmas Cards
8) Write Ministry Update email & "Missionaries in Focus" blurb for church newsletter
All this has to happen around various appointments, and before I leave for a men's conference on Thursday afternoon.
I am in serious need of God's enabling grace!!
In his book, "How To Get Things Done", David Allen talks about some basic principles:
1) If it can be done in less than 2 minutes, do it straight away;
2) If it will take more than two minutes:
a) schedule it for a particular time; or
b) add it to a list of things to do when you have time to work on it.
I seem to have a fair amount of flexible time this week, and lots of things to try to fit in the schedule. I couldn't do any of these at 8am on Monday morning, so here is the list I came up with:
1) A ministry leader/friend (Howard) from the US is visiting this week and staying with another ministry leader/friend (Richard). Call Richard to work out when I will meet with Howard.
2) CM2009 conference needs to have major issues planned this week:
+ check on development of the online registration website;
+ post more flyers to pastors/friends of the ministry (I've already sent out 5,000);
+ call Wesley Mission to work out details for catering, venue specifications re: lighting and sound;
3) U@NU? is the SL summer project I am involved with in January. We have a meeting today. I need to re-write some training in time for the printing deadline;
4) US Green Cards. Liz has a meeting with the US Consulate in Sydney on Thursday morning to begin the process of obtaining Green Cards for Philip, Katrise and me. We need to ensure all the paperwork is completed, all the supporting documentation is gathered and completed and copied.
5) TH501: this week is the last week for my Theology course. I need to:
+ listen to the online lectures;
+ complete the extra reading;
+ contribute to the online forum discussing this week's issue.
6) Prepare for next major study exercise:
+ print John's gospel in Gk for me to write on;
+ buy technical commentary on Gk to further my understanding of John's gospel.
7) Christmas cards:
+ Write Christmas letter (and get it printed);
+ Take Christmas photo (?);
+ Compile Christmas cards
+ Post Christmas Cards
8) Write Ministry Update email & "Missionaries in Focus" blurb for church newsletter
All this has to happen around various appointments, and before I leave for a men's conference on Thursday afternoon.
I am in serious need of God's enabling grace!!
Tuesday, 25 November 2008
The Greatest Lesson I Ever Learned - Brian Booth
As I entered full-time ministry in 1995 I read a book compiled by Dr Bill Bright entitled, "The Greatest Lesson I Ever Learned". It was a collection of stories from Christian leaders. It inspired me to ask various Christian leaders in Australia that I knew (or, mostly, knew of) for their story. These have been sitting in my computer for 10 years waiting for publication, but I didn't collect enough to warrant publishing them. So, I am now posting them as blogs so the stories can get out there. I trust you enjoy them as much as I do.
Geoff
Brian Booth
Brian Booth is one of Australia’s most successful sportsmen. He represented Australia in the gold winning hockey team in the 1956 Melbourne Olympics and played for Australia in cricket - including the Ashes tour in 1960s.
Brian was a secondary school teacher until his retirement.
He takes an active interest in developing young Christians in their sport and their faith. He also assists with the Christian Businessmen’s meetings in Sydney.
THE CANCELLED DEBT
It was the Olympic Year - 1956.
I had been invited to tour New Zealand with a New South Wales Hockey team. I was keen to go as I had never been outside Australia before. Also the experience would be valuable for the Australian Championships to be held in Melbourne later in the year, when the Australian Olympic Hockey Team was to be selected. This was the first time Australia would be represented at Olympic level in Men’s Hockey. What an honour it would be if selected as a member of the “Original Team”? However, I could not afford to go, as I was committed to monthly re-payments on my first motor car ( a two door Morris Minor), and as a teacher I would be on leave without pay.
My father came to the rescue. He dipped deep into his meager savings and loaned me the money needed for air-fares. I resolved to pay him back when my finances improved. I made the tour, played in the Australian Championships and was selected in Australia's first Olympic Men's Hockey Team. I was a member of the “Originals”.
Months passed. The debt to my father was still unpaid. It nagged at me. I always seemed to have other financial priorities. A year went by. I knew that Mum and Dad were struggling financially. My father was a farmer - and a good one. He knew how to make things grow - especially cauliflowers, but market prices for vegetables were very low and fluctuated week by week. I made the re-payment of the debt a priority.
It was with a sense of relief that I drove to my parents' home at Perthville, near Bathurst, for the Christmas school vacation. In my wallet was the cheque for my father. The amount was a little more than he had loaned me, but I was glad that at long last the outstanding debt would be paid.
I arrived home and immediately handed my father the cheque.
“What's this?” he asked.
“It's a cheque” I replied.
“Yes. I know it's a cheque, but what's it for?” said my father.
“It's for the money you loaned me a year ago for the New Zealand trip”, I answered.
My father paused for a moment and then tore the cheque in half. I stared open mouthed in disbelief. Not being a “financial genius” my immediate thought was that he had literally destroyed the amount on the cheque. Seeing my uneasiness, my father looked me in the eye, smiled and handed me the pieces of paper.
I thought long and hard about this incident. As a trained teacher and through my experience of the “ups and downs” of cricket and hockey, I had learned to ask such questions as “What happened?”, “Why did it happen?” but more importantly, “What could I learn from the situation?”
As a boy I had spent considerable time with my father. He taught me many valuable lessons. Sometimes he had to get to the “seat of the problem” to make sure the lesson was understood. I had often scored a “hundred in the back yard at Mums” under his experienced observation. He had taught me much about respect for the hard work that went into earning it. But why had my father torn up that cheque? He was not a wealthy man. Relative poverty was the pattern of my parents' living, as it was for most of the people living around the village of Perthville at the time. What lesson did he want me to learn this time?
As I reflected on what my father had done, I realised that his practical action of tearing up the cheque finalised the matter. He had cancelled my debt. That money was now a free gift. I sensed his motivation was that I was his son and that he loved me. Yes, my father was a farmer and he knew how to make things grow, but he also knew how to make people grow, especially his own son! It was from his action that I learned the important lesson that “people matter more than things”. Yes, even more than money!
However, that was not the only lesson I learned from my father's action. At the time I was young and inexperienced in the Christian faith. In a far deeper sense it made me realise that when Jesus died on the Cross He cancelled my debt of sin. In the Bible, sin is not so much doing wrong as being wrong. In cricket terms it means being short of the crease, batting down the wrong line or falling short of a standard. God’s standard is Jesus Christ. I knew I fell far short of that standard. It was a debt I could never re-pay. Jesus tore up my debt of sin just as my father had torn up my financial debt. As the hymn writer says, “He (Jesus) paid the debt and made me free”, and in return offered me the free gift of forgiveness and eternal life
The most important lesson I learned, however, from my father tearing up the cheque was that eternal life is not a matter of money, luck or chance. It is a matter of choice - of taking God at His Word and resting in utter confidence on his promises.
When Jesus said, “God did not send His Son into the world to make its people guilty but He sent Him to rescue them”, He meant it. He meant that Jesus cancelled our debt for all time, not because we deserve it or because of what we had done, but because of His love and what He had done. That's God's grace to you and me.
Geoff
Brian Booth
Brian Booth is one of Australia’s most successful sportsmen. He represented Australia in the gold winning hockey team in the 1956 Melbourne Olympics and played for Australia in cricket - including the Ashes tour in 1960s.
Brian was a secondary school teacher until his retirement.
He takes an active interest in developing young Christians in their sport and their faith. He also assists with the Christian Businessmen’s meetings in Sydney.
THE CANCELLED DEBT
It was the Olympic Year - 1956.
I had been invited to tour New Zealand with a New South Wales Hockey team. I was keen to go as I had never been outside Australia before. Also the experience would be valuable for the Australian Championships to be held in Melbourne later in the year, when the Australian Olympic Hockey Team was to be selected. This was the first time Australia would be represented at Olympic level in Men’s Hockey. What an honour it would be if selected as a member of the “Original Team”? However, I could not afford to go, as I was committed to monthly re-payments on my first motor car ( a two door Morris Minor), and as a teacher I would be on leave without pay.
My father came to the rescue. He dipped deep into his meager savings and loaned me the money needed for air-fares. I resolved to pay him back when my finances improved. I made the tour, played in the Australian Championships and was selected in Australia's first Olympic Men's Hockey Team. I was a member of the “Originals”.
Months passed. The debt to my father was still unpaid. It nagged at me. I always seemed to have other financial priorities. A year went by. I knew that Mum and Dad were struggling financially. My father was a farmer - and a good one. He knew how to make things grow - especially cauliflowers, but market prices for vegetables were very low and fluctuated week by week. I made the re-payment of the debt a priority.
It was with a sense of relief that I drove to my parents' home at Perthville, near Bathurst, for the Christmas school vacation. In my wallet was the cheque for my father. The amount was a little more than he had loaned me, but I was glad that at long last the outstanding debt would be paid.
I arrived home and immediately handed my father the cheque.
“What's this?” he asked.
“It's a cheque” I replied.
“Yes. I know it's a cheque, but what's it for?” said my father.
“It's for the money you loaned me a year ago for the New Zealand trip”, I answered.
My father paused for a moment and then tore the cheque in half. I stared open mouthed in disbelief. Not being a “financial genius” my immediate thought was that he had literally destroyed the amount on the cheque. Seeing my uneasiness, my father looked me in the eye, smiled and handed me the pieces of paper.
I thought long and hard about this incident. As a trained teacher and through my experience of the “ups and downs” of cricket and hockey, I had learned to ask such questions as “What happened?”, “Why did it happen?” but more importantly, “What could I learn from the situation?”
As a boy I had spent considerable time with my father. He taught me many valuable lessons. Sometimes he had to get to the “seat of the problem” to make sure the lesson was understood. I had often scored a “hundred in the back yard at Mums” under his experienced observation. He had taught me much about respect for the hard work that went into earning it. But why had my father torn up that cheque? He was not a wealthy man. Relative poverty was the pattern of my parents' living, as it was for most of the people living around the village of Perthville at the time. What lesson did he want me to learn this time?
As I reflected on what my father had done, I realised that his practical action of tearing up the cheque finalised the matter. He had cancelled my debt. That money was now a free gift. I sensed his motivation was that I was his son and that he loved me. Yes, my father was a farmer and he knew how to make things grow, but he also knew how to make people grow, especially his own son! It was from his action that I learned the important lesson that “people matter more than things”. Yes, even more than money!
However, that was not the only lesson I learned from my father's action. At the time I was young and inexperienced in the Christian faith. In a far deeper sense it made me realise that when Jesus died on the Cross He cancelled my debt of sin. In the Bible, sin is not so much doing wrong as being wrong. In cricket terms it means being short of the crease, batting down the wrong line or falling short of a standard. God’s standard is Jesus Christ. I knew I fell far short of that standard. It was a debt I could never re-pay. Jesus tore up my debt of sin just as my father had torn up my financial debt. As the hymn writer says, “He (Jesus) paid the debt and made me free”, and in return offered me the free gift of forgiveness and eternal life
The most important lesson I learned, however, from my father tearing up the cheque was that eternal life is not a matter of money, luck or chance. It is a matter of choice - of taking God at His Word and resting in utter confidence on his promises.
When Jesus said, “God did not send His Son into the world to make its people guilty but He sent Him to rescue them”, He meant it. He meant that Jesus cancelled our debt for all time, not because we deserve it or because of what we had done, but because of His love and what He had done. That's God's grace to you and me.
The Greatest Lesson I Ever Learned - Liz Hentschel
As I entered full-time ministry in 1995 I read a book compiled by Dr Bill Bright entitled, "The Greatest Lesson I Ever Learned". It was a collection of stories from Christian leaders. It inspired me to ask various Christian leaders in Australia that I knew (or, mostly, knew of) for their story. These have been sitting in my computer for 10 years waiting for publication, but I didn't collect enough to warrant publishing them. So, I am now posting them as blogs so the stories can get out there. I trust you enjoy them as much as I do.
Geoff
Liz Hentschel
Liz Hentschel could be described as fun-loving, and passionate about bush walking, climbing trees, vegemite on toast, an intimate relationship with the Lord, God's heart for unreached people groups, and prayer.
Having grown up in country New South Wales she moved to Sydney in 1970 for nurses training. It was here that she met some Christian nurses and soon became a Christian herself. After further training in midwifery, and at WEC International’s Missionary Training College in Tasmania, she moved to Spain at the beginning of 1979 to engage in a church planting ministry with WEC (Worldwide Evangelisation for Christ - an interdenominational missionary society with approximately 1,600 members working in over 50 nations).
Liz describes church planting as going to an area where there is no evangelical church and "hanging around with people talking to them about Jesus". The "hanging around" meant going where the people were - to the parks, the sidewalk cafes, and so forth. Heroin addicts were often the ones most open to listen to the Gospel. Converts were then formed into little study groups/churches for teaching.
In 1989 Liz moved to the Netherlands to be part of the rounding faculty of WEC's European Missionary Training College. She is currently teaching "Missions" and "Old Testament Survey", (While working at the college Liz has completed a Masters degree in Missiology.) Liz is not one to not be involved in the lives of non-Christians and forms part of an outreach team to prostitutes. Furthermore, she has "adopted" the Kazakh people group (a Muslim ethnic group living in part of the former Soviet Union) and regularly prays for them. Her heart is very much involved in the Central Asian/Middle East region of the world, a predominantly Muslim area. Her longing is to see Islam crumble, and for the Gospel to penetrate the lives of those held for so long in deception. Her contention is not against Muslims, but against the evil powers that keep Muslims from seeing that Jesus is the Son of God and the Saviour of the world.
LEARNING TO FORGIVE
November 1982 is indelibly etched in my memory. The damp, dark winter sky hung low enveloping Kent, England. Having grown up in sunny country Australia, and recently lived in central Spain renown for its sunshine, this was indeed miserable weather.
Some friends had taken me into their home for a few days of rest and recuperation. What bliss. Walks by the sea, despite the windy and chilly weather. Piping hot cups of strong English tea. Love expressed. Warm fuzzies. This was like Heaven on earth. Peace. Enjoyment.
Four years before I had landed on Spanish soil as a young, enthusiastic, new missionary. With a Bible school diploma in hand, and following a commissioning service in my home church I had set off to make an impact on Spain for God. I'd studied all the appropriate subjects, and had experience in a number of different ministries. Ahead of me lay my missionary career. What exploits I would do for God! After all, I had obeyed the Lord. I had understood His heart for taking the Gospel to the unreached. Hundreds of towns, even larger ones, had no evangelical witness to speak of. My job brief was to evangelise and disciple with the aim of planting churches. Yes indeed, my work was going to make a difference to this country of bullfighters, flamenco and sangria!
And so I toiled. First came the learning of the Spanish language. Easier said than done I discovered. And I toiled. Why were relationships with some missionaries so strained? And I toiled. Young people that we met on the street, in the plazas, and at sidewalk cafes during the hot summer months came to our church coffee bar. A good number of them became Christians. What gregarious people these Spaniards were. We enjoyed the plain simple fun of "paella" cooked on an open fire in the bush, with everyone eating from a common dish. It wasn't exactly your typical Aussie BBQ. For a start, the blowfly population of Spain is nowhere nearly as high. Deep down, however, there was a niggling unease. Why were some missionaries such pains in the neck? Life would have been so much easier if it weren't for them!
And so to Kent ...
Over a bedtime drink my friends looked at me with smiles that reflected wisdom. "Why not take some time to be quiet with the Lord, Liz? Stay in your room tomorrow. Ask Him if He has anything to say to you. Reflect on your time in Spain. Let Him do the talking. You be quiet." Now, this was something new for me, your compulsive activist whose prayer life consisted of long lists and much talking. But this idea of listening to God... well, "I'll give it a go", I gingerly replied.
A new day dawned. Another day of dark clouds and fog. This was my day to listen to God. Still feeling rather proud of myself for having learned Spanish and discipled new converts, that is, the picture of success, crawled out of bed to start my listening.
Blow me down if I wasn't surprised by the first thing God said!
"Why do you call me Lord, Lord and do not do what I say?" Surely He didn't mean ME. After all, I had obeyed His missionary call and gone to Spain. That was at some sacrifice I'll hasten to add. "Why do you call me Lord, Lord and do not do what I say?" Oh that plaguing question! Now where was I? Oh yes. I had given up a good nursing career. I had left family,
friends and country. I had even survived without Vegemite! I had introduced some Spaniards to Jesus. I had... "Why do you call me Lord, Lord and do not do what I say?" I had driven through large areas of the country and given out hundreds of Gospel tracts. I had even visited door to door and suffered rebuff for the sake of the Gospel. Then there were the times when in pouring rain and skillfully jumping puddles I had stuffed tracts in hundreds of letter boxes. "Why do you call me Lord, Lord and do not do what I say?" I had... I had... I had not forgiven when hurt. I had blamed others for making my life miserable. I had harboured resentment in my heart. I had kindled that resentment until it became a root of bitterness. I had layed in bed at night unable to sleep and churned the resentment around in my stomach inventing conversations in which I rebuked, and condemned others. But did I confront them face to face? Never! These were not dirty rotten sinners I was hitting out at - these were my missionary co-workers! I had called Him "Lord, Lord" and not done what He told me to do.
Unforgiveness had become like a big ball of barbed wire inside my stomach. The slightest movement caused the barbs to jab. Ouch! Unforgiveness had found expression in barbed comments about others. It ate away at me, agitating, thrashing. I had held onto reactions which in turn bed bound me up inside.
Turning to Luke 6 I pondered verses 37 and 46. "Do not Judge. Forgive, and you will be forgiven." My heart was exposed. It was stony, cold, hard. I had judged others. I had failed to forgive. But, they had hurt me. Why was I the one that ended up with the problem? In the midst of trying to justify my position, my defences crumbled. I had failed to be open. I had failed to support those whom the Lord had sent to be my co-workers.
Slowly, deliberately I expressed forgiveness to the Lord. "Now pray for them," He said. What? Hurts from the past threatened to bind me up again. "How can I pray for them when they have done this to me?" Fortunately I recognised the subtle tactics of the enemy who so quickly was trying to rob me of inner freedom. I began to pray. "Now get on your knees as a sign of submission to me", the Lord challenged. Down I went and poured out my heart on behalf of my co-workers whom I now saw as dear not only to the Lord but to me.
Forgiveness means to release another from judgement. I had indeed stood in judgement of others. That day I was confronted with a choice. Feeling somewhat painted into a corner by the Lord I made my decision. Yes, I would forgive. It slowly dawned on me that it was in fact I who had caused many of my own problems, simply by clamming up and being too selfprotective to talk openly with my colleagues. To release someone from judgement brought tremendous freedom. No longer would that resentment rule my life.
A couple of weeks later I found myself back in Australia, shut away for the day to continue the forgiveness process. (I was prepared to stay longer if that's what it took.) Out came a big sheet of paper. "Lord, who else do I need to forgive?" Down went the names, one after the other. Tears coursed down my face as I remembered the pain that some of these people had inflicted upon me. That day I chose to forgive, and told the Lord so.
Two of the names stared hack at me as I peered at my list. These ones were impossible to forgive. The pain was too great. The damage too deep. A number of days later an older Christian friend who had become somewhat of a mentor to me sat beside me on the river bank. The smell of gum trees. Pink and white galahs chattered with white cockatoos in the branches overhead. My friend... and me. "I cannot forgive," I blurted out. My wise friend drew breath and quietly admonished, "The word is not CANNOT. It is WILL NOT." My heart raced. The adrenaline pumped. "I have my rights! They hurt me! I was the innocent party!" "Do you choose to forgive?" came her gentle yet firm reply. Here was a choice that would mean release from bitterness, or perpetual inner turmoil and a missionary life that would be continually hampered by the fact that I was refusing to do what God had told me to do. A battle raged in my heart. My friend said no more. Time ticked slowly by. Yes, I would choose to forgive. I did not feel like it, but I made a deliberate choice with my will. One of those that I struggled to forgive to this day knows nothing of that battle at the river bank. Others have remarked that this man took on a sudden spurt of growth as a Christian from that time on. A coincidence? I don't think so. He was released from judgement and therefore was free to grow.
And they all lived happily ever after? Don't you believe it! Unforgiveness/resentment is my area of weakness. The potential is there for me to be bound up by it again, and to bind others up in the process. Reconciliation is the message that threads its way through the whole Bible. Matthew 5:23,24 and Matthew 18:15 both speak on the issue. Whether I know someone has something against me, or I have something against someone else, the responsibility is on ME, not on the other person, to go and talk openly - not attackingly, not defensively, but humbly. From time to time seemingly small issues become a big deal and I am hurt. What I do with that hurt is my responsibility. I am the one who can turn the situation into one which is sweet through forgiving, or I can keep it sour.
Geoff
Liz Hentschel
Liz Hentschel could be described as fun-loving, and passionate about bush walking, climbing trees, vegemite on toast, an intimate relationship with the Lord, God's heart for unreached people groups, and prayer.
Having grown up in country New South Wales she moved to Sydney in 1970 for nurses training. It was here that she met some Christian nurses and soon became a Christian herself. After further training in midwifery, and at WEC International’s Missionary Training College in Tasmania, she moved to Spain at the beginning of 1979 to engage in a church planting ministry with WEC (Worldwide Evangelisation for Christ - an interdenominational missionary society with approximately 1,600 members working in over 50 nations).
Liz describes church planting as going to an area where there is no evangelical church and "hanging around with people talking to them about Jesus". The "hanging around" meant going where the people were - to the parks, the sidewalk cafes, and so forth. Heroin addicts were often the ones most open to listen to the Gospel. Converts were then formed into little study groups/churches for teaching.
In 1989 Liz moved to the Netherlands to be part of the rounding faculty of WEC's European Missionary Training College. She is currently teaching "Missions" and "Old Testament Survey", (While working at the college Liz has completed a Masters degree in Missiology.) Liz is not one to not be involved in the lives of non-Christians and forms part of an outreach team to prostitutes. Furthermore, she has "adopted" the Kazakh people group (a Muslim ethnic group living in part of the former Soviet Union) and regularly prays for them. Her heart is very much involved in the Central Asian/Middle East region of the world, a predominantly Muslim area. Her longing is to see Islam crumble, and for the Gospel to penetrate the lives of those held for so long in deception. Her contention is not against Muslims, but against the evil powers that keep Muslims from seeing that Jesus is the Son of God and the Saviour of the world.
LEARNING TO FORGIVE
November 1982 is indelibly etched in my memory. The damp, dark winter sky hung low enveloping Kent, England. Having grown up in sunny country Australia, and recently lived in central Spain renown for its sunshine, this was indeed miserable weather.
Some friends had taken me into their home for a few days of rest and recuperation. What bliss. Walks by the sea, despite the windy and chilly weather. Piping hot cups of strong English tea. Love expressed. Warm fuzzies. This was like Heaven on earth. Peace. Enjoyment.
Four years before I had landed on Spanish soil as a young, enthusiastic, new missionary. With a Bible school diploma in hand, and following a commissioning service in my home church I had set off to make an impact on Spain for God. I'd studied all the appropriate subjects, and had experience in a number of different ministries. Ahead of me lay my missionary career. What exploits I would do for God! After all, I had obeyed the Lord. I had understood His heart for taking the Gospel to the unreached. Hundreds of towns, even larger ones, had no evangelical witness to speak of. My job brief was to evangelise and disciple with the aim of planting churches. Yes indeed, my work was going to make a difference to this country of bullfighters, flamenco and sangria!
And so I toiled. First came the learning of the Spanish language. Easier said than done I discovered. And I toiled. Why were relationships with some missionaries so strained? And I toiled. Young people that we met on the street, in the plazas, and at sidewalk cafes during the hot summer months came to our church coffee bar. A good number of them became Christians. What gregarious people these Spaniards were. We enjoyed the plain simple fun of "paella" cooked on an open fire in the bush, with everyone eating from a common dish. It wasn't exactly your typical Aussie BBQ. For a start, the blowfly population of Spain is nowhere nearly as high. Deep down, however, there was a niggling unease. Why were some missionaries such pains in the neck? Life would have been so much easier if it weren't for them!
And so to Kent ...
Over a bedtime drink my friends looked at me with smiles that reflected wisdom. "Why not take some time to be quiet with the Lord, Liz? Stay in your room tomorrow. Ask Him if He has anything to say to you. Reflect on your time in Spain. Let Him do the talking. You be quiet." Now, this was something new for me, your compulsive activist whose prayer life consisted of long lists and much talking. But this idea of listening to God... well, "I'll give it a go", I gingerly replied.
A new day dawned. Another day of dark clouds and fog. This was my day to listen to God. Still feeling rather proud of myself for having learned Spanish and discipled new converts, that is, the picture of success, crawled out of bed to start my listening.
Blow me down if I wasn't surprised by the first thing God said!
"Why do you call me Lord, Lord and do not do what I say?" Surely He didn't mean ME. After all, I had obeyed His missionary call and gone to Spain. That was at some sacrifice I'll hasten to add. "Why do you call me Lord, Lord and do not do what I say?" Oh that plaguing question! Now where was I? Oh yes. I had given up a good nursing career. I had left family,
friends and country. I had even survived without Vegemite! I had introduced some Spaniards to Jesus. I had... "Why do you call me Lord, Lord and do not do what I say?" I had driven through large areas of the country and given out hundreds of Gospel tracts. I had even visited door to door and suffered rebuff for the sake of the Gospel. Then there were the times when in pouring rain and skillfully jumping puddles I had stuffed tracts in hundreds of letter boxes. "Why do you call me Lord, Lord and do not do what I say?" I had... I had... I had not forgiven when hurt. I had blamed others for making my life miserable. I had harboured resentment in my heart. I had kindled that resentment until it became a root of bitterness. I had layed in bed at night unable to sleep and churned the resentment around in my stomach inventing conversations in which I rebuked, and condemned others. But did I confront them face to face? Never! These were not dirty rotten sinners I was hitting out at - these were my missionary co-workers! I had called Him "Lord, Lord" and not done what He told me to do.
Unforgiveness had become like a big ball of barbed wire inside my stomach. The slightest movement caused the barbs to jab. Ouch! Unforgiveness had found expression in barbed comments about others. It ate away at me, agitating, thrashing. I had held onto reactions which in turn bed bound me up inside.
Turning to Luke 6 I pondered verses 37 and 46. "Do not Judge. Forgive, and you will be forgiven." My heart was exposed. It was stony, cold, hard. I had judged others. I had failed to forgive. But, they had hurt me. Why was I the one that ended up with the problem? In the midst of trying to justify my position, my defences crumbled. I had failed to be open. I had failed to support those whom the Lord had sent to be my co-workers.
Slowly, deliberately I expressed forgiveness to the Lord. "Now pray for them," He said. What? Hurts from the past threatened to bind me up again. "How can I pray for them when they have done this to me?" Fortunately I recognised the subtle tactics of the enemy who so quickly was trying to rob me of inner freedom. I began to pray. "Now get on your knees as a sign of submission to me", the Lord challenged. Down I went and poured out my heart on behalf of my co-workers whom I now saw as dear not only to the Lord but to me.
Forgiveness means to release another from judgement. I had indeed stood in judgement of others. That day I was confronted with a choice. Feeling somewhat painted into a corner by the Lord I made my decision. Yes, I would forgive. It slowly dawned on me that it was in fact I who had caused many of my own problems, simply by clamming up and being too selfprotective to talk openly with my colleagues. To release someone from judgement brought tremendous freedom. No longer would that resentment rule my life.
A couple of weeks later I found myself back in Australia, shut away for the day to continue the forgiveness process. (I was prepared to stay longer if that's what it took.) Out came a big sheet of paper. "Lord, who else do I need to forgive?" Down went the names, one after the other. Tears coursed down my face as I remembered the pain that some of these people had inflicted upon me. That day I chose to forgive, and told the Lord so.
Two of the names stared hack at me as I peered at my list. These ones were impossible to forgive. The pain was too great. The damage too deep. A number of days later an older Christian friend who had become somewhat of a mentor to me sat beside me on the river bank. The smell of gum trees. Pink and white galahs chattered with white cockatoos in the branches overhead. My friend... and me. "I cannot forgive," I blurted out. My wise friend drew breath and quietly admonished, "The word is not CANNOT. It is WILL NOT." My heart raced. The adrenaline pumped. "I have my rights! They hurt me! I was the innocent party!" "Do you choose to forgive?" came her gentle yet firm reply. Here was a choice that would mean release from bitterness, or perpetual inner turmoil and a missionary life that would be continually hampered by the fact that I was refusing to do what God had told me to do. A battle raged in my heart. My friend said no more. Time ticked slowly by. Yes, I would choose to forgive. I did not feel like it, but I made a deliberate choice with my will. One of those that I struggled to forgive to this day knows nothing of that battle at the river bank. Others have remarked that this man took on a sudden spurt of growth as a Christian from that time on. A coincidence? I don't think so. He was released from judgement and therefore was free to grow.
And they all lived happily ever after? Don't you believe it! Unforgiveness/resentment is my area of weakness. The potential is there for me to be bound up by it again, and to bind others up in the process. Reconciliation is the message that threads its way through the whole Bible. Matthew 5:23,24 and Matthew 18:15 both speak on the issue. Whether I know someone has something against me, or I have something against someone else, the responsibility is on ME, not on the other person, to go and talk openly - not attackingly, not defensively, but humbly. From time to time seemingly small issues become a big deal and I am hurt. What I do with that hurt is my responsibility. I am the one who can turn the situation into one which is sweet through forgiving, or I can keep it sour.
The Greatest Lesson I Ever Learned - Rev. Geoffrey Fletcher
Geoffrey Fletcher
After war service as a flying instructor in the R.A.A.F. Geoffrey Fletcher was ordained, served in several parishes, and was for ten years the Secretary of the Church Missionary Society.
He set up the Department of Evangelism of the Anglican Church in Sydney and launched Life Ministries in Australia (now called Campus Crusade for Christ Australia) through a Church-based lay training evangelism programme.
He was a foundation member of both the Australian and International Boards of World Vision and was for a number of years the Chairman of the Australian Board.
He is Chairman of the Council of the Mount Tamborine Christian Convention and has travelled extensively for over thirty years as both a speaker and international conference member.
He enjoys living at Maleny on the hinterland of the Sunshine Coast of Queensland, Australia.
BUCKSHEESH
I learnt a great lesson from two Africans - one a simple village mother- the other one of the first East Africans to be made a bishop in the Anglican Church.
There had been a very moving grand service in the Anglican Cathedral of Kampala in Uganda. After the service which had seen the consecration of Erica Sabiti as bishop many of the Africans had walked some miles out of town to the home of old Mondo who was a leading light among the revival brethren. There the brethren together with a number of missionaries and other locals rejoiced that one of their number was so honoured. In response the new bishop told a story about a woman shopping in India who encountered for the first time the custom of "bucksheesh" - the giving of a little gift by the shopkeeper. She had bought some expensive cloth and had received a specially prepared box of matches by which to remember the occasion. She was so taken by this custom that she departed excited about the box of matches and forgot to pick up the expensive cloth. The bishop applied this by remarking" that God had given us his only Son - a priceless gift - for me" said the bishop, "he has thrown in a box of matches 'bucksheesh' and made me a bishop." This really tickled the fancy of the lay brothers and sisters who, one by one, made light of things by agreeing that being a bishop was just a "box of matches". It almost got to the point of what the Scripture refers to as "making light of dignitaries". Then one dear old lady in very simple village garb and needing to be interpreted before many of the Africans understood her, and of course twice so I knew what she was saying, stunned us all! She said "Our dear brother has been made a bishop and we are all thrilled with that - he says it is only a box of matches - but I am asking God that with this box of matches he will light fires of love for the Lord Jesus all over our country of Uganda."
It was so moving that after swallowing a lump in your throat either tears or laughter would seem to be equally appropriate. However a quiet reverent silence prevailed and one of the number led all in prayer to that end.
For me the lesson was clear. But it is further clarified by a letter from another African bishop - Yohana Omari. He was invited to six months deputation in Australia and New Zealand with Festo Kivengere. As he planned he wrote to me as the Secretary of the Church Missionary Society. "Geoffrey" he said, “I come to your country only as a donkey praying that my precious Lord Jesus will ride through the streets of your city on my back." And that is precisely what happened!
I can remember a very grand occasion in Albury when a liturgical Episcopal welcome had been organized. Midst all the grandeur and ceremony the bishop shared a simple testimony as to how as a lad he was nurtured in a faith that denied the deity of Christ. The fact that the Bible was forbidden aroused his interest and he read of Jesus' claim to be the Way, the Truth and the Life. He related how he had responded and then challenged all at that service to personally consider their own response to Christ's claim. After the service, in a large group gathered around the bishop, the wife of a church leader, with tears coursing down her cheeks, asked that he consider sending missionaries to Australia. "Oh," said the bishop, "you don't need missionaries from us, we heard the gospel from you." "True," said the weeping woman, "but we have become so confused with ceremony and tradition that we have forgotten the simplicity we have in Jesus."
From the woman in Uganda and the bishop in Albury I learnt that when the focus is on Jesus himself the messenger is not as important as the message. In fact when I thought that the message from God was conveyed to the great prophet Balaam by a donkey I felt at home in the ministry so long as I allowed the Spirit of God to keep me focussed on the Lord Jesus.
After war service as a flying instructor in the R.A.A.F. Geoffrey Fletcher was ordained, served in several parishes, and was for ten years the Secretary of the Church Missionary Society.
He set up the Department of Evangelism of the Anglican Church in Sydney and launched Life Ministries in Australia (now called Campus Crusade for Christ Australia) through a Church-based lay training evangelism programme.
He was a foundation member of both the Australian and International Boards of World Vision and was for a number of years the Chairman of the Australian Board.
He is Chairman of the Council of the Mount Tamborine Christian Convention and has travelled extensively for over thirty years as both a speaker and international conference member.
He enjoys living at Maleny on the hinterland of the Sunshine Coast of Queensland, Australia.
BUCKSHEESH
I learnt a great lesson from two Africans - one a simple village mother- the other one of the first East Africans to be made a bishop in the Anglican Church.
There had been a very moving grand service in the Anglican Cathedral of Kampala in Uganda. After the service which had seen the consecration of Erica Sabiti as bishop many of the Africans had walked some miles out of town to the home of old Mondo who was a leading light among the revival brethren. There the brethren together with a number of missionaries and other locals rejoiced that one of their number was so honoured. In response the new bishop told a story about a woman shopping in India who encountered for the first time the custom of "bucksheesh" - the giving of a little gift by the shopkeeper. She had bought some expensive cloth and had received a specially prepared box of matches by which to remember the occasion. She was so taken by this custom that she departed excited about the box of matches and forgot to pick up the expensive cloth. The bishop applied this by remarking" that God had given us his only Son - a priceless gift - for me" said the bishop, "he has thrown in a box of matches 'bucksheesh' and made me a bishop." This really tickled the fancy of the lay brothers and sisters who, one by one, made light of things by agreeing that being a bishop was just a "box of matches". It almost got to the point of what the Scripture refers to as "making light of dignitaries". Then one dear old lady in very simple village garb and needing to be interpreted before many of the Africans understood her, and of course twice so I knew what she was saying, stunned us all! She said "Our dear brother has been made a bishop and we are all thrilled with that - he says it is only a box of matches - but I am asking God that with this box of matches he will light fires of love for the Lord Jesus all over our country of Uganda."
It was so moving that after swallowing a lump in your throat either tears or laughter would seem to be equally appropriate. However a quiet reverent silence prevailed and one of the number led all in prayer to that end.
For me the lesson was clear. But it is further clarified by a letter from another African bishop - Yohana Omari. He was invited to six months deputation in Australia and New Zealand with Festo Kivengere. As he planned he wrote to me as the Secretary of the Church Missionary Society. "Geoffrey" he said, “I come to your country only as a donkey praying that my precious Lord Jesus will ride through the streets of your city on my back." And that is precisely what happened!
I can remember a very grand occasion in Albury when a liturgical Episcopal welcome had been organized. Midst all the grandeur and ceremony the bishop shared a simple testimony as to how as a lad he was nurtured in a faith that denied the deity of Christ. The fact that the Bible was forbidden aroused his interest and he read of Jesus' claim to be the Way, the Truth and the Life. He related how he had responded and then challenged all at that service to personally consider their own response to Christ's claim. After the service, in a large group gathered around the bishop, the wife of a church leader, with tears coursing down her cheeks, asked that he consider sending missionaries to Australia. "Oh," said the bishop, "you don't need missionaries from us, we heard the gospel from you." "True," said the weeping woman, "but we have become so confused with ceremony and tradition that we have forgotten the simplicity we have in Jesus."
From the woman in Uganda and the bishop in Albury I learnt that when the focus is on Jesus himself the messenger is not as important as the message. In fact when I thought that the message from God was conveyed to the great prophet Balaam by a donkey I felt at home in the ministry so long as I allowed the Spirit of God to keep me focussed on the Lord Jesus.
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