This was one of the best books I read all last year, and it just so happens to be free for the month of April at Christian Audio.
I love posts like this. Thankful for Matt sharing it.
Pastors are a motley bunch of souls. We represent different personalities and tribes, different methodologies and styles, not to mention denominations, traditions, and theologies. But I’ve learned over the years that there is something many of us all have in common—a profound sense of insecurity for which the only antidote is the gospel.
It’s easy to succumb to the temptation to compare one’s ministry to that of another pastor, or give in to the need to impress others and be liked.
The person who has true faith in Jesus is promised that she will do greater things than Jesus’s works. But what does “greater” mean? Shall Christians perform more sensational acts? It’s difficult to imagine miracles more sensational than those of Jesus; “greater” surely doesn’t mean that.
Sarah Eekhoff Zylstra:
At 87 years old, John Perkins is ready for his eighth career.
After being a janitor, welder, equipment designer, Bible teacher, civil-rights activist, community developer, and author, Perkins wants to “devote the rest of my life to biblical reconciliation.”
It would be hard to find someone better qualified.
Diane Dokko Kim:
Well-intended friends must have shared the same uninformed understanding because they attempted to encourage with, “It takes a special person to raise a special needs child.” Only I didn’t volunteer for this—I had been drafted. The likes of me would never sign up for such a gig, much less qualify. Perhaps that was the point. God was surely playing some cosmic joke with this epic mismatch of child to parent. It seemed a cruel irony to pair a vulnerable, delicate child with a reckless mother like me. I wasn’t comfortable around disabled people. I avoided making eye contact. I’m irresponsible and lack empathy. I’m shallow, self-centered, and lazy. “You’ve got the wrong person,” I thought. “Lord, please pick someone else.”
A favorite from the archives:
There are few moments I love more than coming home after work and having my son rush at me, leap into the air and give me a giant hug. Or when my middle daughter surprises me with kisses on the cheek. Or when my oldest looks at me quizzically and says, “Grown-ups… are strange.” (More correctly, her dad is.) Or when Emily and I sit on the couch, doing our own thing or chatting, and she touches me with her feet just so there’s a physical connection.