While you wait!

What can a church planter do while you wait? 

Do you dislike wasted time? Have you had a delay while waiting to deploy as a church planter? Have you felt there are steps you CAN take even though you aren’t in the new community yet? You might be waiting to relocate to your target city, to sell your house or need time to find employment or wind up a job. There is packing and moving your stuff or getting rid of stuff! Kids need time to settled in school, supermarkets need to be found and bird-dogging a favorite coffee spot to slide into every day or so! All this and more could be a part of your waiting experience.

                    Are there things a planter can do? There sure ARE!

1.     Develop your prayer team. Prayer is, as Jack Hayford puts it, “…is invading the impossible.” Spiritual warfare is the most underestimated part of starting a new church says planting leader Tom Nebel. So start right away gathering and discipling your prayer team. Your need them to be hammering the beachhead with heavy artillery prayer long before your landing party arrives! (p.30-36 First Steps)

2.     Begin your fundraising network very early. It is simple and is an ongoing part of any church plant. The bible says, ‘Where your treasure is there your heart will be also.” Peoples hearts AND funds will be drawn to your new church.  Have you offered your friends, business partners, family members and workmates an opportunity to support you? Your mission is a cool privilege and opportunity for financial partnership.  Think like a missionary! (p. 37-45 First Steps)

3.     Start an in-depth study of your planting community’s history and dynamics. Every city has a reason it was founded and a spiritual culture. There are racial, social, economic, religious and political foundations that define a community make its personality. A key to knowing how share the gospel is knowing what your city connects with and how. Remember the Apostle Paul on Mars Hill? Dig in! And share you findings with your prayer team! (Wikipedia gets you started!)

4.     Get going with networking. Start to call, write and visit the Mayor, Chamber of Commerce, local business’s, schools, police department as well as other churches and NPO’s. Service agencies abound and are always ready to meet new potential partners. As a giver and a servant and you will be received with open arms! First impressions count so make them awesome! Have your business card ready to offer! (p. 46-50 First Steps)

5.     Prayer walk your city or community often. Walk with your eyes open for needs AND assets of the city. Talk with local people asking how you can pray for them or city.  Transformation begins both in you, your team and the city and people you are called to. Ask God to enlighten your heart to what He is already doing!  God is already at work and you are a new part of His plan. (See Guidelines for Prayer Walking)

6.     Dream of what this church will look like. God will start to put people, both pre-Christians and followers in your life. (see Spiritual Journey Guide) Seek God with fasting and prayer for clarity. Write down your impressions and those of your launch team. Gary Rohermeyer (author of First Steps) says, “Gods dreams are always bigger that ours because he loves lost people more than we do.” Read Romans 16 about Paul’s lifelong launch team! (See p.23-26 Church Planting Intensive Manual)

Talk with your pastor. If she or he is mission minded they will help you. Caution, some pastors don't like to release people to planting. In that case look for a mission minded community that will honestly help you process what God is doing with you. This is a picture of Judy and I with Don and Winnie Frazier, our pastors. They were and are honest and encouraging mentors that helped us identify our mission and how to get to it! 

To go deeper on any of these subjects contact me (Ron Steslow) rsteslow@gmail.com and refer to your “First Steps” Manual!  Lets help more people  call Heaven home! Luke 10:2

  

Children Education and Equality (Part 1)

                                       Children, Education and Equality  (Part 1)

  She didn’t seem like she should be on a back street this early in the morning alone...it isn’t safe for a girl. It is 7:27AM and I am approaching my stop. It is located in a defunct shopping area street that’s now a hub for bars and strip clubs. Across the street stretch low-income apartments and government housing projects which are the home to many low income and welfare families.

My big yellow bus rolled farther down the street and I saw in the morning dusky light that the girl is in her 40’s and a streetwalker working her trade, hoping for more of the same sadness that keeps her employed. I meet her eyes as I drove by and saw shame, emptiness and pain. In the weeks to come this would be a routine sight on that hidden street on my route.

As I throw the switch on my stop-signs traffic halts and my kindergarten and elementary kids board the bus, polished up for a day in class and another of the first days of the rest of their lives. They are simply wonderful kids with futures and hopes, just not a lot of privilege…not yet. The eyes of their moms and dads are filled with expectation that their children will benefit from a good school and caring teachers, and even breakfast when they arrive at campus. The kids take their seats and we set off  to school; parents giving final waves blowing kisses from the sidewalk.

  I smile at the parents. I am trying to assure them that their children will get the same care I would give my own children on our ride to school. I promise them with my face.

I lament because most of the inhabitants of my city will never see this street, bus stop or the darker, tougher side of these children’s surroundings. I am a new school bus driver placed here in this job like an unsuspecting audience of one, beholding the opening curtain of a mysterious and partly tragic play. The first scene breaks my heart, calls me to prayer and motivates me to write the story of what I see.  These dear kids face extreme brokenness daily on their street and all around them. I’m guessing that this neighborhood represents one hundred more like it in my city and millions more around the world.

An experienced voice familiar with this barrio told me that there are few parents in these homes and that these children are “raising themselves in a lot of situations.”

I can go home to a comfortable safe house in the evening. They live where crime and unrest are the norm. There is stress on their faces a lot of times. Some kids ask if they can just ride the bus all day! I think it might the best spot that they can hope for…kind of a rolling oasis of sorts like a trip on their own yellow motorhome. I just tell them, “You are going to do great things in school today because you are AWESOME!” They ARE awesome!

When the students disembark at school each child receives a positive word from Mr. Ron. It sounds like this:

                                    You have great talent!

                                    It’s going to be a good day for you! 

                                    

                                    Show love and respect today!

                                    

                                    You have all you need to succeed!

                                    

                                     __________  Elementary kids are the best ever!

                                   

                                    Nice smile!

In short, I try to find whatever positive thing to bring a little more hope to these kids. Anything to make them feel that they are SOMEBODY! They ARE somebody!

A few months ago I was driving through a very affluent area of my city. I saw a school in that neighborhood specially designed to give advanced education to the children there. The students wore uniforms and the campus looked very exclusive. The children are obviously privileged. No doubt they are offspring of professionals and business people who want the very best for their kids.

 These children and their parents might have never seen the barrio streets where I pick up their fellow students 20 miles away. Don’t the affluent live in a closed world too? But isn’t it a safe, sanitary and a more protected community? Their school is available to children privelegded birth. I find myself hopeing they will come to know their rare opportunity and the status they haveand that  they will someday help with the suffering of these born with less.

                  I am left with questions by this contrast in opportunity and situation.

So where does equality in life, education and privilege enter the scenes of this play that is unfolding before me? How in our blessed country can a child from privilege and a child from the ghetto experience the same opportunity to succeed in life? It seems like one child has it all and the other has so little it smarts. If  “all men are created equal” why are things so out of balance. I hear the words of Dr. King echoing in my mind, “I have a dream…” My empirical experience on the early morning streets driving the bus shows my city is still in search of Dr. King’s dream.

When I replay these strikingly different scenes-the barrio kids boarding the bus and the Academy kids tucked safely into their pristine campus I hunger to see justice done for the sake of the children. They need a chance to be together. Could they trade places for a day? Could they share their names, some meals, teachers and classrooms…for a day and then perhaps more?

These children are equal in talent and potential regardless of the social situation they are born into and I wonder for the kids sakes: if there is not a better way to give broken and poor kids a chance for equality in education and to educate kids isolated in privileged to the plight of their less fortunate peers. Can the dream of equality in education become reality somewhere?

         I would love to hear your thoughts about children, education and equality.

a space of grace

A space of grace

(This is written to describe what I felt was happening when God inspired an unstructured space for people to be cared for supernaturally and in a miraculous way during a recent Christian worship time.)

It takes a confident leader to let this kind of thing happen in a Sunday morning church service. She or he allows the clock to sleep and the carefully written order of service to be burned like a piece of flash paper in a hot burst…for something far better…unplanned and much like sunshine breaking through the blackness of a storm filled sky…a divine space of grace (and hope) opens in time.

Sometimes in a Christian gathering there is a spontaneous and touching phenomenon that occurs usually during focused worship to God. Older God fearers call it an altar call; like an invitation by God himself to enter his embrace. Some say it is a manifesting of heavenly presence called the Shekinah glory; as in the days of ancient Israel when the people were enveloped in a cloud of holiness and were undone, overwhelmed and stupefied by the presence of God.

Time closes its eyes, sleeping in hushed glorious mystery while sensitive, searching and open hearted people call out, responding to the unspoken allure of some perfect loves beckon. They come hands and faces raised, parched and famished like deer who have long wandered in lonely dry hills; into the springs and gardens of God for refreshment transformation, sustenance and peace.

Yes, it is a space of grace. An opening in the heavens where the soul finds satisfaction and there is no more curse provoking mind or body or spirit. Grace Himself strokes every affliction with a healing salve.

A smile appeared where pain had racked an aged face. Sleep slow dances the mind where torment used to enflame subconscious and conscious emotions. Bones are knit, organs balance chemically and mend, while schizophrenic voices and images are stanched by one song of solace, you are free my child be free, you are loved my child be loved, you are home my child be home…with Me.

Right now in the space of grace is up-close and personal time with God. This isn’t church playtime with rehearsed prayers, religious toys or clever media trappings.

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God almighty

Leaders who are arrogant bullies or spiritual know it all’s can miss a space of grace easily. They want to control access to God with their schedule, word, agenda or domineering ego. Control the access and you control the people.  No sermon they preach can match or minister like God the Spirit set free in a space of grace opened in vulnerability and humility by a good shepherd sensing that God longs to give His love in a special heartfelt way.

Within the space of grace are often defining moments of dedication, milestone pillars of faith and personal discovery of calling to service. These moments become the catalyst for new beginnings and bold courses of living that set seekers on a course for adventure into Gods great unknown.

Pennies From Heaven!

Pennies from Heaven!

There were 6322 pennies all totaled that went into the machine. Yes, I finally made it to Coinstar to exchange them for cash. For 15 years I have saved these little copper beauties thinking I will sort them by date and start this penny collection. Nope, I never did and at about 100 pounds in weight I decided I had grunted out loud (GOL) moving them for the last time. I heaved them from my car to the shopping cart and into the waiting hungry coin gobbler in Wal-Mart’s lobby! I never expected to receive a life lesson and a fun illustration of life from them.

6322 pennies went into the machine…and six came out in the scupper below. Yes, six rejected little copper coins lying naked and unwanted in a lonely dark pile. They were a curious lot. I picked them up and cradled them tenderly and curiously. Why? I can’t say but there was a simple charm about them and their lonely state of isolation and rejection.  I turned each one over to see just what they might teach me.

The first one was bent a little. I had to look hard but sure enough it was subtly off so that the sensor in the machine said, nope you are not straight enough to make the cut. It’s boink and out you go! This little guy had seen some pressure. It had to be way too much for his strength to stand. It must have hurt and he didn’t spring back to flat. Bent and free and different in separation from the flatties.

Next, was one that was only 2/3 thirds left of his original penny-ness. He is kind of an “nny” with the “pe” gone. A part of him is just MIA. Abraham Lincoln’s hair was part missing! It was either burnt off, corroded or ground down; I can’t say which. It just made me think, that’s wrong bro! You saw some serious warfare to take a shot like that. Like a warhorse ready for a green pasture with a quiet stream, it’s coming soon my little fragmented friend. Soon.

Another penny, really two pennies were powerfully glued, boned, welded or stuck together with something strong. Too thick, too close for the machine was their sin…and bounced to the scupper was their fate. I tried to pry them apart with no success. I decided they were supposed to be together? Continued curious prying was no match for their adhesion. They are joined together for all time. Kind of like the Romeo and Juliet of coppers…a numismatic tragedy in one act shoved out of the window down to the waiting scupper. Here for art thou!

This one that I named greenie must have been at the bottom of some pond or buried in earth somewhere for a really long time. Poor little buddy just wasn’t shiny any more. His entire copper gleam faded so very long ago, forever. Ever had a day like that…or a week or year? Fate had dealt him a discoloring blow, forever green and funky, a colorful curiosity to admire and ponder. Somehow the machine could detect green. How it did is unknown but greenie was bounced and just slid on down to the company of the marginalized bent and completely unique.

Interestingly there was an Amusement Park token in my penny bucket. Different size, color, thickness and material from the others, it might be brass. There was no way the machine was going to let this rowdy rascal in. No face value and from out of town! A citizen of another fiduciary culture and economic reality. No cash value is stamped right on his face. Imagine going through life stamped, NO FACE VALUE! Not cool, oh no. Somehow this round shiny friend seemed to be at home in the scupper. He fit right in and cozied up to bent and greenie just fine. They looked good together. Go figure. Circumstance puts interesting personalities together.

Last was the brightest, most lustrous, lovely penny ever. What were you doing in the scupper? You are the poster child for pennies that are accepted I thought. There is nothing wrong with you in fact you are a 2015 mint condition smarty! You are…too good? The machine doesn’t want too good to believe beauty? What is happening here? I understand all the others with their non-typical peculiarities, bends, stuck-ness and peccadillos…but not you. You are a victim of your goodness. You are the genuine article but the machine must see so few of your kind that well it just can’t accept you. Dang! The pure in heart really are blessed and in a funny way. Hmmm!

So, there you have it. An hour in Wal-Mart pushing coins into the gobbler and an interesting phenomenon, (at least to me) a little story of life, perhaps yours, for sure feels like mine sometimes.  A story of six pennies and their special recognition for being different and for service above and beyond the call of duty!

The six are in my pocket right now all together having fun I think. I get them out and look again at their unique nature and special talents. No, there are no two alike in this group.

They don’t know it yet but they have a treat coming. I just happen to have one ounce of the purest gold shaped into a flat rectangle just sitting alone, lonely. It is truly lustrous! I’m guessing that it would like some company. I’m going to join these six in fellowship with the gold bar together kind of like a little street of gold to dance on and accent their unique personalities, characteristics and charm. I think they will find and affinity for each other.

They are kind of like a sacred seven. Isn’t that a good number seven?  They say it is God’s number.  Seven days in a week and one coin for each day as a reminder of how there are special and unique people we will meet along the way…never by chance but by design. I promise to appreciate them. If I don’t get along with them, I will still love them. They have been through more than I have. Their shape and shine are a clue to their story.

Every day I will remember to celebrate the very unique nature of the non-typical special ones that will populate heaven and call it home with me.

Hey, the gold bar would never pass through the machine anyway, eh?