Yesterday (Great Grape Or Second Banana) I wrote about using our unique gifts. I’d like to expand a bit.

The more I think about it the more I’m convinced that the notion of “special needs” isn’t biblically sound.

My friend Tim pastors a church in Denver, and he talks a lot about the “Y’all Come In” mentality. In that view, if the church opens the door and puts down a welcome mat, that’s enough.

Except that it’s not enough.

At Tim’s church they send people to homeless shelters and by-the-week motels. They sit with people one-on-one, talk with them, assure them they’re valued and needed.

Those aren’t the comfortable church people. Often they’re dirty and smelly. Sometimes they’re manipulative or mistrustful. They’re certainly the most materially needy, and they’re also the least likely to respond to “Y’all Come In.”

In Tim’s eyes this isn’t a special ministry to special people who need the church. It’s a biblical ministry seeking folks with essential gifts the church needs.

I think it’s a lot like that with people who face physical, emotional, or mental challenges. I suppose it would be ideal if everyone felt equally welcome and accepted. They don’t. We don’t.

Suppose it’s not about meeting “special needs.” What if it’s about really believing that every person brings unique gifts to the table and that every excluded person means an incomplete body?

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work. Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many. 1 Corinthians 12:4-6, 12-14

I don’t know how to make this happen. Well, actually, I do—we all do. What I really don’t know is how to make it comfortable.

It’s uncomfortable to be around those who are different. It’s just easier to worship in familiar surroundings with familiar people and familiar ideas. Folks with disabilities, folks who don’t “fit in” in some way—they make us uncomfortable. There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that.

What’s wrong is letting that discomfort control us. Folks who look or act differently, who evoke feeling of discomfort—we can’t just open the door and say “Y’all Come In.” And we can’t shuffle them off to the side into “special” sections or “special” programs that that serve our needs much more than theirs.

We need to go get them. We need to include them. We need to equip them to use their unique gifts in ministry.

Just like everyone else.

Please leave a comment.

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I’ve been invited to speak at a church in Boulder, Colorado this weekend. The topic is Rich’s Ride and how it relates to people with special needs in the church.

I’ll write a bit more about my actual message tomorrow. Today I simply want to express my gratitude.

This picture shows perhaps the most difficult hill we encountered on the entire ride. It’s at the very southeastern tip of Iowa in the town of Keokuk, and it was one of the few times I was unsure whether I’d reach the top without assistance.

I cranked up that hill by myself. But I never would have reached the bottom without a great deal of help, support, and encouragement.

It would have been so easy for folks to push me into a corner and ignore me. People at school didn’t have to provide the technology that allowed me to teach and mentor young teachers for twenty-four years. People at church didn’t have to make the building accessible or provide ministry opportunities. There were easier, cheaper, more convenient alternatives.

I’m grateful for people who took seriously the biblical principle to focus on ability rather than disability.

Now if the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body…The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable … 1 Corinthians 12:15-16, 21-22

According to the RPV (Rich Paraphrased Version), a grape can spend its life struggling to be a banana, but it’ll always be a second-rate banana. The grape would do better to devote its energy to being the best possible grape. I’m grateful for those who’ve supported me in my effort to use my unique gifts.

I’m not sure I’m a great grape, but I’m glad I get to try. But I’m grateful that people don’t insist on making me into a second-rate banana.

Please leave a comment.

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Yesterday (Maybe I Just Can’t See) I told you the wonderful story of my friend Kelli and her long-term recovery from cancer. I wondered if perhaps Kelli’s ability to not only survive but thrive was a one-degree miracle.

A reader sent a great question: Why did you include “perhaps”? Of course this was a miraculous answer to prayer!

Why “perhaps”? Because I don’t know.

I absolutely believe God answers prayers and always keeps His promises. I know He listens and responds when I share my heart. I believe He causes good to arise from even the most horrific circumstances.

But I don’t claim to know how that works. I’m not certain I can draw a clear cause-effect line from my desires to God’s actions. And I surely can’t categorize when God says YES or NO.

I’ve told this story before.

A pastor in a rural North Dakota church sought God’s help. The farms surrounding his church were struggling through a prolonged dry period. If rain didn’t come soon, an entire year’s crops would be lost.

So the pastor prayed for rain. A few days later it rained. And for the rest of the summer, rain was frequent and plentiful. The farmers harvested record crops, and the pastor thanked God for answering his prayers.

God had been good.

One day as winter approached one of his parishioners appeared in the pastor’s office in great distress. His business was on the brink of failure.

The man ran a large road paving company. The season for this work in North Dakota is relatively short, and excessive rain had prevented him from completing contracted obligations.

Long-time employees who depended on his company for income and benefits were in danger of losing their jobs. Roads would deteriorate over the winter from lack of maintenance, leading to increased taxes for everyone in the county.

As he scrambled for a way to keep his business afloat until the following summer, he asked the pastor to pray for good weather. To avoid disaster, he needed an exceptionally productive season.

One man’s blessing was the other’s disaster. Good … isn’t always as clear as I think.

I’m called to know and become like Jesus. A significant aspect of that journey involves understanding and accepting that God’s thoughts aren’t my thoughts. Same for desires, plans, and perspectives. He’s God. I’m not. I’m glad.

So I find that my conclusions about the short-term circumstances of my life include a lot of “maybe’s.” I know what I know.

I’m okay with what I can’t know.

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Please leave a comment here.

I’m fascinated by nativity scenes.

I know they’re mostly historically inaccurate. I know they romanticize and condense and even fictionalize a very messy episode. I know Jesus’ birth was nothing like the shiny porcelain portrayal on the mantle.

But I’m still drawn to it as I think about Christmas. I guess, for all its idealized imagery, it’s still a visual, real, tangible likeness of a moment I can’t quite get my head around.

This morning I found myself thinking about some of the characters and wondering how I’d have responded. What if I was an ordinary resident—perhaps a businessman, maybe even an innkeeper on that once-in-eternity night?

The innkeeper isn’t immortalized in my nativity, though he’s a minor player in every Christmas pageant. I grew up picturing him as the mean guy who relegated God’s son to a stable. A pregnant young woman showed up at his door on the verge of delivering her child, and this heartless man slammed his door in her face.

Maybe. Or perhaps he did the best he could in a difficult situation.

The small town was packed with visitors. I’ll bet tempers flared as people demanded service he just couldn’t deliver. It wasn’t his fault they showed up late with no reservation.

He might have left them in the streets. Their lack of planning wasn’t his fault, right? But instead he found them a relatively safe spot inside, out of the weather and away from the noisy crowds.

Most likely there wasn’t a single “innkeeper” character. Perhaps it was a family or a number of folks who saw a young couple in need and helped as best they could. Details aren’t important.

But as I stare at the baby in the ceramic manger, I’m forced to wonder how I’d have responded.

The crowded town represented an unprecedented business opportunity. Would I have been too focused on my paying customers to see someone who needed a bit of help?

Or would crowds roaming the streets at night have driven me inside to the safety of my own home? Would I have locked my door and turned up the television? Would I have even noticed the lost young couple who’d have been happy to spend the night in my garage?

I’m reminded of something Jesus said a few years later:

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ (Matthew 25:40)

It’s not about what happens to the characters in my nativity scene. It’s about how you and I deal with those we encounter in the everyday circumstances of our everyday lives.

Please leave a comment here.

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Relentless Grace

If you’re still looking for that last-minute gift, please take advantage of our 2-for-1 deal.

Click this button and give the gift of Relentless Grace this Christmas.

And thanks for helping spread the word.

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Everybody’s got a story, and we heard many amazing personal experiences on Rich’s Ride.

One of the inspiring people we met was a pastor in a wheelchair. He fell from a ladder while painting a house. His injury left him totally paralyzed below his neck with absolutely no use of arms or hands. But his physical limitations didn’t paralyze his heart or his spirit, and he’s served as senior pastor of his church for several years.

It’s an awesome testament to God’s faithfulness, but one particular aspect of our meeting impacted me. We met at a pastors’ retreat, but this inspirational man couldn’t have addressed the conference. Why?

The relatively modern church building hosting the conference provided no wheelchair access to the platform. Four steps provided an impossible obstacle for his heavy mechanical chair.

Am I the only one who perceives a problem?

Every church has a mission that includes calling people to faith in Jesus, helping them discover their unique gifts, and supporting them in the use of those gifts.

I don’t make accessibility my personal mission. (As I explained on Monday (Anniversary) I’m writing about my injury more than usual this week. This is the last in a series that includes What Would You Change?, Who Belongs?, and An Able Bodied World?)

But when someone solicits my perspective, I ask if they believe God can use folks with physical limitations as teachers, preachers, leaders, or musicians.

A church building is a “facility.” Its purpose is to “facilitate” the central mission. What message is conveyed by an inaccessible platform? I’d argue—if anyone asked—that those steps block the church’s ability to fulfill its central purpose.

Whenever this discussion arises, the response involves funding. “We can’t afford it.”

I get that. Resources are limited. But if an issue prevents progress toward your primary mission, how can you afford NOT to address it?

Please leave a comment here.

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Relentless Grace

I hope you’ll take advantage of our 2-for-1 deal.

Click this button and give the gift of Relentless Grace this Christmas.

And thanks for helping spread the word.

# # # # #

(Note: I’m posting this on both blogs. Sorry if you received it twice.)

So … did you get out into the madness of Black Friday?

I’m never quite sure what to do with the day after Thanksgiving. After an overdose of turkey and being stuffed with stuffing, after football and naps and pumpkin pie, after pausing to be intentionally thankful, here’s this day sort of stuck in before the weekend. It’s not a normal day, but not really a holiday either.

Unless you’re a shopper. Then it’s THE DAY.

“Black Friday” sounds ominous, like a day to stay inside and hide. And that’s precisely my approach. I have a tough time getting excited about the notion of camping out, standing in line, getting up early, and battling crowds.

I hope the season brings huge success to retailers and small businesses who’ve struggled through recent economic hard times. But today I’ll do more football and some leftovers.

However, today kicks off a string of unofficial shopping holidays—Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and Cyber Monday. And since I’m the smallest of small businesses, I want to get in the spirit.

Seriously, my real goal is to get the story of Relentless Grace into the hands of readers who need hope, encouragement, and faith in new beginnings. I believe in the power of this story. But the words don’t make a difference when they’re sitting in boxes.

Shopping Season just wouldn’t be the same without a special offer, so here’s mine. Until December 15, 2011, I’ll make a 2-for-1 deal. If you order a copy of the book at the already-discounted price, I’ll toss in a second copy for free.

• We all know folks who’d enjoy an inspirational story with a subtle romantic twist. (Guys—think about those ladies!)
• We all know people who wonder where God went in the midst of a crisis.
• We all live near a detention center, shelter, or nursing home where people seek hope and meaning.

Books pass through many hands, especially those donated to jails and shelters. You may never know who was touched by the story, but I’m confident God will get your gift to someone who’s ready to listen to Him. I’m just asking for your help in reaching out to those who need to know about God’s Relentless Grace.

Here’s a comment from a young lady who wrote to me after I spoke at a jail (shared at her request).

I read your book the first day I was locked up. Someone gave it to me, and it totally changed my outlook. I’ve made a lot of really bad choices, but after reading your story I knew I could start over. I’m using my time here to learn to know God again. When I get out in a few weeks, I’m not looking back. They need more books like that in here. Thank you.

In addition to your purchase, you can help a lot by recommending this book to friends and linking to this post on Facebook and Twitter. Your word-of-mouth is the best word of all.

Have a great weekend. Thanks for your comments, notes, and support. You encourage me, and I don’t say “thanks” quite enough.

This post originally appeared in January, 2010. It’s one of my all-time favorites.

* * * * *

I encourage you to grab a cup of coffee, sit back, and be inspired by a 20-minute video:

If you can’t see the video, click here.

I invite you to leave a comment concerning your reaction to the guy in the top hat.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland. [Isaiah 43:18-19]

Please leave a comment here.

Occasionally someone asks how I know I’m making a difference.

The short answer … mostly I don’t. I receive significant feedback that encourages me, but often I can’t really know the ultimate impact of my words.

As a teacher I learned to accept that uncertainty. You do your best and then you have to let it go and move on.

But once in a while something happens that makes it all worthwhile. One such event occurred earlier this week. Please read about it here.

I believe God uses my words to help change lives. How many people do you have to touch to justify the effort?

Here’s my answer:

The Master’s Hand

’Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To spend much time with the old violin
But he held it up with a smile.

“How much am I bid, good folks?” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?
A dollar? A dollar! Now who’ll make it two?
Two dollars! Now who’ll make it three?

“Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
Going for three?” But no!
From the back of the room a gray haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow. 

Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the worn old strings,
He played a tune as sweet and pure
As a caroling angel sings. 

The music ceased, and the auctioneer
In a voice that was quiet and low, said,
“Now what am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.

“A thousand dollars? Now who’ll make it two?
Two thousand! Now who’ll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going, and gone,” said he.

The people cheered, and some of them cried,
“We really do not understand.
What changed its worth?” Swift came the reply,
“The touch of a master’s hand.”

“There’s many a man, with his life out of tune,
Battered and scarred by sin.
He’s auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.

“A look, a touch, a glass of wine,
A game, and they travel on.
They’re going once, they’re going twice,
They’re going, and almost gone.

“Then the master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul, and the change that is wrought
By the touch of The Master’s hand.”

- – Myra Brooks Welch

Please leave a comment here.

Have you ever been angry with God?

Last week I spoke to an amazing group of kids. Reality Youth Center serves young people from tough environments. Poverty, abuse, neglect, absent parents—nearly every member of the audience has experienced a challenging childhood.

After I told them about my injury, I confessed that I spent a lot of time being angry at the world, at my friends, and at God. Then I asked, “Do you guys think it’s okay to be mad at God?”

Almost universally, they shook their heads or quietly said, “No.”

Their response surprised me. How about you?

I stopped for a moment. In a different setting I would have asked for some discussion to understand their thinking, but with 100 kids in a worship time that didn’t seem practical.

What would you have done at that point?

I chose honesty. I repeated that I felt anger toward God and that I thought it was okay. Since that wasn’t the main point of my message, I moved forward.

I wondered, though, where they got the message that it’s wrong to be mad at God.

I’ve always figured that God wants authenticity. After all, what’s the point of pretending when He knows what I’m thinking anyway? So when I talk to Him, I try to be as honest as possible.

I think God’s okay with me expressing my true feelings. I think He understands, because He’s been there.

I’m not claiming that being angry with God is a good thing or that it accomplishes anything worthwhile. Like most anger, it’s wasted energy aimed in the wrong direction.

But when I do feel angry, I think He wants me to talk to Him about it.

What do you think?

Please leave a comment here.

 “I’m not sure what I can do to help. All I can do it pray.”

I’ve heard that dozens of times in conversations about Rich’s Ride. I’ve said it myself—I’ll bet you have as well.

The implication is that we’d like to do something real, something that would actually help. But if we can’t think of anything that will make a real difference, at least we can pray.

I have two thoughts, and you may disagree with both. That’s okay.

Backward

First, when we think like that I believe we get it exactly backward. Prayer is the first, most important thing we can do in any circumstance.

Prayer connects us to God. When we pray for each other, we’re somehow interconnected as well. I don’t know how that works, but I believe it does and I believe it matters.

Dozens of people pray faithfully about this project. Becky and I sense that connection and support. It’s supernatural and powerful and it expands the circle around this ride in a real and significant way.

I sincerely hope that nobody thinks “all they can do is pray.”

Change

I absolutely believe God can, and does, intervene in specific circumstances. I also know that while I pray for sunshine a farmer prays for rain.

So I’m more inclined to ask God for a continued sense of His presence. I tell Him my specific needs, not so much because I expect results in accord with my desires but as a way of being open and vulnerable. To me, it’s the conversation that matters.

I believe God answers every single prayer. I believe He always says, “I’m here.”

That’s all I want.

Well, that and a nice warm tailwind.