Extending Grace: The Ministry of Bearing

I can't remember when this idea first crept into my mind. We've been going through an excellent sermon series at church this fall about the facets of the Kingdom of God, things like fellowship, witness, simplicity, covenant, and persecution. It could have been in one of these sermons. Or the idea could have poked up its head in one of my conversations with a mentor or friend. I've also been leading a book study at church on Dietrich Bonhoeffer's pithy volume Life Together. I'm sure the idea partly came about through this book. Simply put, the big idea that's been on my mind and in my heart is the call that we have to extend grace to our fellow human beings.

Bonhoeffer gave me the words to express what this ministry is called in Scripture: the ministry of bearing. Paul writes: "Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindess, humility, meekness and patience, bearing with one another..." (Col. 3:12-13a). As I've thought more about it, my experiences in life recently have given body and shape to this idea of bearing with or extending grace to others. Or, more accurately, life has tested my limited ability to extend grace.

In church a couple weeks ago, my pastor introduced new members to the congregation. He said something like: "We have a divine call to welcome these new members into our congregation and to love them, to delight in their gifts, passions, idiosyncracies and oddities." The congregation laughed, but the truth is plain as day. We're all a bunch of idiosyncratic weirdos. Need any evidence? Spend 10 minutes with another person. Or, better yet, spend two minutes with yourself!

In my book study yesterday, we discussed the ministry of bearing with others as Bonhoeffer describes it. I was still trying to understand what this ministry was, so I asked three questions: 1) What is the ministry of bearing? 2) Have you ever thought of this as a ministry? 3) How do we practice the ministry of bearing? One person very thoughtfully said, "Well, it kinda sounds like putting up with others." We all laughed and agreed. I didn't expect to have my questions answered in one fell swoop, but there it was, clear as day. Bonhoeffer further describes the ministry of bearing:

"The freedom of the other person includes all that we mean by a person's nature, individuality, endowment. It also includes his weaknesses and oddities, which are such a trial to our patience, everything that produces frictions, conflicts, and collisions among us. To bear the burden of the other person means involvement with the created reality of the other, to accept and affirm it, and, in bearing with it, to break through to the point where we take joy in it."    

Notice he says that we "break through" to the point of joy. We don't usually get there right away. It takes struggle to bear this ministry faithfully. Perhaps this concept has been so striking to me recently because life has been so ordinary and this is a ministry of ordinariness. What could be more day-to-day than colliding with the created reality of our brothers and sisters? I could count out the examples from today alone in a few short minutes, but I do have two stories I want to share particularly.

The first story is from this summer when I took a day trip with my family to the Oregon Coast. For my family, family vacations are full of laughter and fun, but also memories of personalities colliding and expectations being thwarted. At the very beginning of the day, my dad insisted that he needed to deposit his check in the bank before we did anything else. Somehow, this started us off on a brilliant way of handling each other's "weaknesses and oddities." Whenever someone's oddities poked through and caused friction, we would gleefully shout: "Quirk! Quirk!" Instead of causing more tension, this simple statement released the tension, like the cap being opened on a soda. The tension fizzled away, and we would inevitably burst into laughter. But beyond just releasing the tension, acknowledging each other's quirks gave us insight into each other's needs and wants and gave us an avenue for communication. It opened up the possibility of extending grace to each other, and I learned a valuable lesson.

Bearing with each other isn't always so easy. It doesn't always have a good outcome. But this doesn't change our calling to bear with each other. In fact, I believe that God will, as he always does, extend grace to us as we extend grace to others.

Several weeks ago, my friend and I were cooking pancakes for breakfast. I had made a delightfully fluffy sour cream pancake batter, and my friend was in charge of flipping. As she poured on batter, flipped the pancakes, and slid the cooked hotcakes onto a platter, she told me about the tough time at work she'd had the day before. As she talked, I noticed that she was pressing all the air out of the pancakes with her spatula, thus ruining the airy fluffiness that had so excited me. The words were almost out of my mouth when a thought popped into my mind. She is upset, and she's taking her frustration out on these pancakes. It was a totally mindless act because she was focused on telling me her story. And what was I doing? Worrying about culinary perfection. Then came the three redemptive words: "Extend her grace." And I did. I shut my mouth and listened and ate flat pancakes with a new appreciation.

The Week in Review

Last week, I bought something really cool at Costco:

We had a June birthday celebration at work this week, so I made this (Peanut Butter Ice Cream with Peanut Butter Cups):

 

With these:

The verdict? Delicious! I can't wait to make more batches of ice cream throughout the summer. It will be my go-to dessert. It was fun to share my first-ever batch with my co-workers, as they all have a hearty appreciation of food. This was the first fun thing of the week that I'm going to share with you.

The second fun thing was "cooking" a meal for 25 people on Friday night. My co-worker Emily has been involved in the start of a new college ministry in town that's being spearheaded by several current Whitworth students. Every Friday night, Thrive (the name of the ministry) meets in a church building downtown for dinner, worship, a message, and small group discussion. Because Thrive is just getting off the ground, they don't have the funds to provide dinner every week, so they've been soliciting help from friends and members of local churches. I had extra tithe money from housesitting in May, so I volunteered to make dinner for this week's Thrive gathering.

The catch is that the church building, which used to be an art gallery, has no sink, stove, or oven, so the meals prepared for Thrive need to be creative. Fortunately, God has provided me with many opportunities to coordinate food for bigger groups, so it didn't take me long to come up with a menu: cold, sliced ham from Egger's Meats, bread from Costco (multigrain and rosemary olive oil), and carrots and sliced cucumbers with Sabra hummus. No dinner would be complete without dessert, so I made vegan/gluten free cookies (made with bananas, peanut butter, and oats for substance) and a chocolate sheet cake with peanut butter frosting. Every day this week, I've been preparing some part of the meal, so packing up and transporting the meal downtown on Friday was a breeze. Here it is all packed up and ready to go:

 

I was nervous about the evening and how it would all come together, so I asked my parents and several friends to pray about it. The biggest thing was that the two people I knew weren't going to be there. Providentially, Emily connected me with her friend Anneliese, who was going to be leading Thrive that evening. When I was driving downtown looking for parking, I passed the building the first time and when I came back around, a car was leaving the spot right in front of the building. Praise the Lord! The other miraculous thing was that I didn't get a parking ticket, as I only had enough change for an hour of my time. :)

 

It was a piece of cake (hehe) to set up the meal. Anneliese, her friend Amanda, and I had time to pray for the evening before it started. People trickled in steadily until 6:15, and I enjoyed talking with handful of people. The meal came off splendidly. There was enough for all and a manageable amount of leftovers. Actually, I had almost the whole cake left which was disappointing until I tried it when I was back home. I'm telling you, it is delicious!

 



You might be surprised to know that the vegan/gluten free cookies were also good. The leftovers are in my freezer, ready to emerge at some fortuitous occasion.

Speaking of fortuitous occasions, the third thing I want to share with you about the week is that I finally saw a LIVE MOOSE!

 

My family has been to all the prime moose spots in the United States--Yellowstone, Vermont, Maine, Yosemite--and we never saw a live moose. My church hosted a bike ride on the Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes today through the beautiful lakes of northern Idaho. As my housemate Pam and I were riding along, we saw the moose chowing down across the lake. It was awesome! The ride itself was also lovely. Here are some pictures from the trail that entirely fail to capture the beauty we witnessed:

 



And that's a wrap! Have a blessed Father's Day tomorrow!

January's Getting to Me

I heard radio announcers say earlier this week that Monday was supposed to be the lowest emotional day of the winter. Christmas is over, credit card bills are arriving in mailboxes, the days are short, the sky is gray, and spring is still months away. I don't usually suffer from the winter blues given my rather obsessive appreciation of the seasons, but January caught up to me this week.

In weeks previous, I've had plenty to keep me occupied, friends from college visiting, Owl City songs, and discovering a delicious pumpkin chocolate chip muffin recipe being the chief pleasures. However, reality started to catch up to me this week. Two of my housemates are moving out in the next couple weeks and we don't have new housemates lined up (partly due to my neglient procrastination). This certainly brings an increased financial burden; however, it's the lack of companionship I'm particularly mourning this week. One housemate especially has been a good friend for over five years and made my transition to Whitworth as a freshman infinitely easier and more fun. I pondered this reality--the soon-to-be lack of companionship reality--as I walked to my car after work this week under a steel-gray sky.

On Thursday night, I came home from work feeling noticeably tired. The rest of the week, I had been taking walks in the evenings around the neighborhood, but I simply didn't want to walk on Thursday evening. Instead, I ate my leftover Caramelized Red Onion, Prosiutto, and Goat Cheese pizza and watched Northanger Abbey. On Friday, I was home by 3:30 PM and knew I needed to take a walk to take advantage of the daylight. I hadn't had anything planned outside of work this week, which was refreshing for the introvert in me, but I was getting to be a little too introspective for my own good. I needed a fresh perspective on life and walking seems to be good for that.

I called my parents, to whom I often speak when on walks, but they were about to go out for a walk themselves. I wavered briefly in my resolve, but shook off my hesitation, jammed my feet into my boots and set off. In the daylight, I love walking in the large, hilly, open space behind Whitworth known as the Back 40. I trudged through the snow at the beginning of the walk, disgruntled and sulky. But the more I walked and breathed in the vibrant fresh air, the more relaxed I became. The open space of the Back 40, uncluttered by houses and trees, the nippy air, the crunching snow all did something to untangle my thoughts and soothe my rumpled spirit.

The funny thing about walking by myself is that I seldom think about anything profound. I don't usually have epiphanies about personal problems or take advantage of the time to pray for friends and family as they come to mind. Walking is a way to just be. In fact, the only epiphanies I usually have involve God.

I walked farther yesterday than I have in a while. I walked up the hill to Whitworth, through the campus, and came back down the other side of the Back 40, a distance of two miles. On my way across the upper Back 40 to start my descent into the neighborhood, I was suddenly struck by the difference in perspective from the top of the hill. The slushy mess of snow on the streets below faded, and I could even see a hint of blue sky. At the time, I didn't connect my walk to any spiritual revelation, but as I think back on it now, it seems that the change in perspective from the top of the hill was most striking because I could see more clearly where I had been before on my walk.

In the midst of the grayness of January and the unsettled roommate situation, my walk gave me a gift. It gave me the perspective to see that I have the choice to trust that at some point in the future, I will be able to see from the mountaintop what I couldn't see in the valley. This perspective, while it doesn't make me particularly happy or change the reality of my situation, does give me hope. And hope is a wonderful thing to have in the slushy cold of January.

Reflections on "Even Better"

Again, it's been a while since I wrote on my blog. That's mostly because I wasn't sure how to write about the tumult of the last three weeks. As most of you probably already know, I recently lost my job at Partners International in a series of cuts due to the struggling economy. As you can imagine, this was a blow. I loved the work I was doing, the people I worked with, the sense of purpose and pleasure at having a real job out of college and being able to provide for myself.

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The day I found out, I was able to respond in faith and trust that God was in charge. I continue to believe that, but over the following several days, I experienced the gamut of emotions. Experience has taught me that I needed to honestly feel each feeling, even if it was anger or discouragement. When the storm of emotions passed as I finished my last day at Partners on August 24, two emotions remained: sorrow and confusion. I was sad because I had delighted in the relationships I was building at work, seeing the same set of people every day. I was confused because I had started to plan the coming years of my life around this job. Now the future was again as it was in the spring: unknown. I was also confused because my job had seemed so good, such a perfect blend of my organizational, verbal, and relational skills. After giving it some thought, I can only conclude one thing: God takes away what is good to give us what is even better.

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Not that I know what the "even better" might be. I'm not sure that God cares whether we know what the "even better" is, as long as we trust in God's goodness through both good and bad. Sometimes we may only know the "even better" with hindsight. On the scale of hardships suffered, I know this turn of events ranks pretty low. Nevertheless, it was a real struggle for me to process what had happened and in some ways I'm still struggling. But, as God is wont to do, good has blossomed from the bad.

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As I began to tell people about my circumstances, the community of support that I enjoy by God's grace jumped into action. I received e-mails, cards, phone calls, a prayer shawl, and a bevy of listening ears and earnest prayers. My peers, family, church families, mentors, professors, and former co-workers rallied around me with loving care and kindness. The Body of Christ jumped into action in a way that I had never needed before, but am thankful for now. Ironically, a number of you told me that God must have even better things in mind for me than working at Partners. In my rush of emotions, I expected the "even better" to look like another perfect job delivered to me on a silver platter. In my somewhat wiser state since then, I know that the "even better" may not be an immediate delivery, but a slow process of bringing about God's plan in my life, his plan to make me more and more like Christ.

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A dear former co-worker who has experienced the hardship of cancer in the past couple years, told me that when I look back on this time, I will be amazed at the ways God cared for me in the smallest of details. I do invite you, urge you, even, to spend time in reflection today on the ways God provided for you in the past in the smallest of details. It's a good spiritual exercise to be thankful.

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Where am I now on the job search? This week, I'm meeting with two families to talk about smaller, childcare/nannying jobs that were brought to my attention by several Spokane friends. Pray that these two things will work out if it is God's will. It's my plan to piecemeal these smaller jobs together while I keep my eyes open for more regular part-time or full-time work. God has given me a great network of relationships in Spokane with many connections in the community. I'm confident that I'll be able to find another job. In the meantime, God has confirmed my desire and sense of calling to remain in Spokane.

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And now, I'll take each day as it comes. Really, the future is always unknown, except for the fact that God is the commander of it. With this in mind, I'll rest easy.