Tag: Life

Feeling the Cut

Posted on by Tim Mossholder

I’m just coming through a season I’d describe as “pruning”. I had been pursuing a particular objective — stretching my branches in a direction I assumed would be incredibly fruitful. But at the very moment I’d hoped this new growth might begin to bear fruit, it was cut off. Quickly. Painfully.

I wish I could say I immediately saw God’s purposes in all this. But the reality has been that I’ve needed both time to heal and the help of others to gain perspective.

During this season I’ve reflected on Jesus’ words, captured in the first part of John 15.

I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. … No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.

Jesus’ words have reminded me of several truths:

  • God is a gardener — so I shouldn’t be surprised when pruning happens!
  • Every branch will be cut — either because it’s fruitless or because it should be more fruitful.
  • I can’t produce fruit on my own — I must remain connected to Jesus.

The goal of my life is fruitfulness. I don’t want to be a dead branch. And I especially don’t want to be a leafy branch that looks healthy but doesn’t produce anything that’s truly life-giving.

That’s not just my goal — it’s Jesus’ purpose for my life as well. When you keep reading in John 15, Jesus states: “This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.”

There are questions, however, I must wrestle with while the pruning is taking place:

  • Can I trust Jesus to get me where I need to go?
  • Do I really believe he has a better perspective on my life than I do?
  • Will I stay connected to Jesus, even when his pruning blade is cutting in to my life plans?
  • Is my faith secure in him, even when I’m in pain?

But if the “wounds of a friend” can be considered faithful, how much more the wounds that come from the ever-loving, nail-scarred hands of the Gardener? His job isn’t to coddle me — it’s to cut back everything that’s not producing fruit.

While it’s true that all pruning is painful, pain isn’t an indicator of God’s absence or his anger. It might just be a pointed reminder that he’s at work, shaping me for greater fruitfulness.

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NOTE: Not all pain is evidence of God’s work! Sometimes it’s a result of our own poor choices — and other times it’s a result of the sin of others spilling over onto us. But in his grace, God can redeem every situation, no matter the origin of the pain.

A Hydrated Life

Posted on by Tim Mossholder

Dehydration isn’t a mystery. We know exactly how it happens: moisture leaves our bodies more quickly than we replenish it. This can happen slowly over time, or because of exertion and environmental extremes, we can dry out to dangerous levels rather quickly.

My son, Brennon, who recently ran the Honolulu Marathon, attests to the dehydrating effects of running in the heat: debilitating cramps, nausea, dizziness, and extreme fatigue.

While most of us aren’t running marathons in the tropics, much of what we experience in day-to-day life can leave us with soul-dehydration. We are dried out through:

  • busyness — extended seasons without rest sap us to the core
  • relational struggles — even brief tensions can wear us out, but prolonged relational strain can take a serious toll
  • carrying others’ burdens — even positive care for people can eventually leave us depleted
  • sickness — when our bodies are broken we are taxed in ways that are much more than just “physical”
  • loss — grieving what we’ve actually lost or even the hope of “what could have been”
  • pressures at work or school — when we don’t meet others’ expectations, frustrations soar and life can feel empty
  • acting on addictive impulses — every negative choice reinforces the drying effects.

Any one of these can sap our energy, our creative juices, emotional stamina, or spiritual reserves. Cumulatively, they leave us cracked and dry, in desperate need of soul-hydration.

Into our parched reality, God spoke through his prophet, Isaiah…

Tell fearful souls, “Courage! Take heart! God is here, right here, on his way to put things right
And redress all wrongs. He’s on his way! He’ll save you!”
Blind eyes will be opened, deaf ears unstopped,
Lame men and women will leap like deer, the voiceless break into song.
Springs of water will burst out in the wilderness, streams flow in the desert.
Hot sands will become a cool oasis, thirsty ground a splashing fountain.
Even lowly jackals will have water to drink, and barren grasslands flourish richly.
Isaiah 35:4-7

I need God’s soul-hydration today — his steams flowing through the desert of my life. How about you?

How do you access God’s thirst-quenching streams when you feel at your driest? Post your thoughts below.

Wrestling with Continuity

Posted on by Tim Mossholder

I previously wrote a blog on the “Beauty of Discontinuity“, and since then this topic has been swirling around my imagination. I’m convinced that God is intent on interrupting our lives to capture our attention, to bless us, and to redirect us onto new paths — and that he calls his followers to live discontinuously with the values and priorities so often seen in the brokenness of the world.

If that’s the case, then should “continuity” play a role in our lives? Absolutely. Continuity is essential to life and has its own kind of beauty. We see healthy continuity…

  • Daily — waking, eating, working, relating, resting
  • Weekly — school, work, projects, worship, weekends
  • Annually — seasons, holidays, vacations.

Without any continuity we’d be lost. Life would be a like a box of random events, constantly being shaken about (like a never-ending episode of “24”).

Though a certain level of continuity is crucial for a healthy life, it seems that our human tendency is to eventually succumb to these patterns so that they take over much of our existence. We can become so entrenched within these “normal” patterns of life that continuity eventually turns into bondage. The rhythms of my life begin to take on a treadmill-like reality, so while I’m going through the motions, no progress is being made. I’m no longer getting anywhere I haven’t already been — no new discoveries, no more breakthroughs, no new beauty.

It’s been said that a rut is nothing more than a grave with its ends kicked out. And that’s a good picture of a life of continuity that isn’t punctuated by moments of significant discontinuity.

Kind of Like Marriage

My hunch is that many marriages end due to the drudgery of continuity. We enter the “long slog” of doing what we’ve always done, to the point where even natural rhythms take on a nerve-racking drip…drip…drip. Even something “bad” might be welcomed to break up the monotony of life. So affairs happen. Addictions begin.

To keep healthy, vibrant relationships, a good mix of discontinuity is needed in the pattern of our lives.

What could that look like in marriage? Occasional flowers would be nice. Weekends away once in a while would be amazing. Even a surprise love note can add a beautifully discontinuous moment to an otherwise way-too-continuous season. Anything that reawakens us to what is real, true, and beautiful about life and relationship can provide the stimulation of discontinuity.

My Comfortable Life

So do I welcome discontinuity, or do I hate interruptions? When God wants my attention, does he have to rattle my cage, or do I lean into his whisper? How about when it’s my wife, my kids, or others who want my attention? When life shifts gears do I look for new opportunities and insights, or am I too busy whining about the change to notice what’s now possible? Do I cling so tightly to the past that I can’t embrace the hope of a new future that is unfolding around me?

If I don’t keep wrestling with continuity, it’s power of persuasion will eventually wear me down and float me gently down the river of comfortable predictability — then over the waterfalls of boredom and lifelessness. We have to fight it!

And for those of us who get somewhat rattled by the thought of change and discontinuity, God has given us the promise that “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8). God himself is our constant. And when our feet are firmly planted on him, the Rock, it’s a lot easier to stand strong, enjoy the winds of change, ready for the next adventure.

Disqualified…

Posted on by Tim Mossholder

What could disqualify someone from ministry leadership? Permanently?

Maybe a better question would be: are there people so broken that they can not be restored?

My hope — and I believe God’s heart — is that no matter what the offense, restoration is not only possible, but should be the ultimate goal. But things get tricky and sticky when it comes to how we do “church life”, and often people are permanently sidelined after failure. Why is this the case?

  • There’s hard work involved. Restoration is often a messy, lengthy process, and leaders dread wading into these challenging waters.
  • Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice…and so on. We are fearful that people will be repeat offenders, and we don’t want the backwash of their continued failure to splash polluted water on to our “clean” reputations.
  • We just don’t want to be associated with the brokenness of others. If I embrace you, offense and all, people may assume that I tolerate your sin (gasp!) and this would be a negative reflection on me (double gasp!).
  • The church often reflects a shame-based culture. When someone blows it, there must be something inherently wrong with them (as if there isn’t something inherently wrong with me). We label those people as failures, as shameful examples of what “not to be”.

A friend has experienced something like this over the past year. A qualified and skilled ministry leader, he went through a dark season, during which he made a bad decision that snowballed a bit before he “woke up” and put an end to it. I had the privilege of walking with him during that time and since. I was so proud of him for going back to each person involved and making it right, choosing to swallow his pride and walk in repentance. The whole episode lasted no longer than two weeks, and he came out of it stronger and more humble than before.

But over a year later, my friend’s pastor won’t even consider him for a ministry role. There’s just no place for him. He’s disqualified. Worse yet, there’s no pathway of restoration being made available to him. In his pastor’s mind, he’s permanently disqualified.

Can’t we just admit that we’re all broken people in need of grace? We all need the hope of restoration. And discarding those who fail is plain stupid (oops…did I just say that?!).

Part of the problem of maintaining a shame-based, rather than a grace-based culture is that people will go to great lengths to hide their issues. Oh, they still have them. They just fear the permanent shame they believe will be brought about by exposure. My fear of marginalization usually exceeds my desire to walk in honesty.

Are there times when someone’s habitual failure should sideline them for a season? Yes, I believe so. Leaders have the responsibility to protect the community — both the one who is currently weak as well as those who could be negatively impacted by his or her failings. But even then, restoration should be the goal of a season on the sidelines.

I’ve recently been reminded of the need for a grace-based church culture in a profound book, Love, Acceptance and Forgiveness. I’m not sure how this book, authored by pastor Jerry Cook, had escaped my reading for so long. But I’m really glad I picked it up…and I’ve bought and passed out dozens of other copies. Pick up your own copy and get ready to live differently. There is a world of broken people who are waiting for us.

(Photo credit: Ramzi Hashisho)