HOSPITALITY

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you. By this all men will know you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” John 13:34,35 NASB

Just listened on-line to a pastor who’s guest preaching for us next Sunday. His subject was the nature of the church, the mandate to fellowship, to communion, to hospitality. All true for all of us. But each of us is given different talents, different personalities, different pathways and opportunities to express and exercise that mandate.

I’m thinking that preacher is going to be pretty disappointed in me.

The basic difference in extroverts and introverts is in how they re-energize and refresh themselves. Extroverts draw energy from social interaction, introverts from quality solitude. Especially, for the believer, solitude with God.

Every one of us finite beings has a bucket of social energy, different sizes, different shapes. Every bucket loses energy through evaporation. An extrovert’s bucket may be wide or not so wide, but it’s deep and strong and tight. Even if a major kick should make a dent and slosh some energy out, the bucket seems to have an inner pump that only fails in times of too much aloneness.

Introverts' buckets, on the other hand, are of a more delicate material. While all are wide for maximum evaporation, they vary in depth according to how severe the “disability”* is. All have pinholes, few or many, that accelerate the energy loss.

Normal—and doable.

But if someone comes along and kicks a hole in that fragile bucket, especially if the kick lands low, all the energy floods out and is gone. It can take a long time to let Jesus repair and refill it.

I’m a strong introvert with a peculiar assignment: to touch individuals with hands, heart, voice, pen. I like people, care about them, enjoy them very much in small doses. But too many people at once, or just one or two for too long, especially if they’re gathered in my only place of solitude (no escape), or if they’re pressuring me to spend myself in ways they see fit, then I’m flat out empty. The first thing to go (faster these days) is my priceless creative energy. Too long without that and I’m sucked down a whirlpool and spat out of my own bucket. Nothing left to give to anyone.

I’m a one-on-one person. When I hear stories of hunger or abuse or persecution far or near it touches me—but it doesn’t touch me. I can’t relate to faceless masses on an emotional level. But when it’s one face, one heart, I go to a level so deep that many people would drown.

My spiritual gift is mercy. My personality type is INFJ. My focus is my God—but when I’ve permitted people to drain me, when I’ve failed to allow for my own legitimate needs, when I’ve had no time or space or energy to think and process whatever life has handed me (or thrown at me), I’m not good company even for Jesus.

Hospitality wide and general, or hospitality more keenly focused? Which is more important?

Trick question. It’s neither.

Avi, toda. Thanks. Seems like my vocabulary is pretty limited here, but since that’s one of Your bestest, most favorite words, I’m thinking You’re OK with it. Thank You for the way You’ve made me and gifted me with so much to share, too much for me to carry. Thank You for carrying it for me, for doing the work I cannot do (Psalm 138:8), and for pointing out people who need Your touch through me.

In Your Holy Name, Amen                                                  

* Myself, I consider this “disability” an amazing major strength, an advantage that has drawn me into a deeper dependence on and closer relationship with Jesus.

THE SONG IS WRONG

Because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into our hearts crying, “Abba! Father!” Galatians 4:6 NASB

Listening to an old Rusty Goodman song, “Who Am I?” * Two questions in there. Who? And why? Who am I to deserve what my God did for me? Why would He go to the cross for me? The song reaches a conclusion: “The answer I may never know.”

The song is wrong.

The answers to both questions are so simple that even the youngest child knows them instinctively. The second question first. How could he ever love undeserving me so?  

How could He not love me? It isn’t about me; it’s about Him. He is love and love finds its only true substance in Him. He can’t not love. He cannot be untrue to Himself. (II Timothy 2:13)    

The harder question is, “Why me?” Again, the answer slaps me upside the face. I’m His kid.

I can hear my argumentative nephew now: “Well, tell me this then. When He died, you hadn’t even been thought of. Your great, great, great grandpappy hadn’t even been born. And after you were born, you weren’t His yet because you hadn’t accepted Him…”

But I had been thought of. I was already known. He knows my heart, all the way through. He made that heart, especially and on purpose, and with a custom-made purpose. He gave it to me, taught me to feel and know it. He knew me before He made me, and He knew how much I’d want and need a Father. He knew that in this world I wouldn’t find father or mother or friend able to satisfy my deepest need. Way before I had any name for that hunger, I longed for Him—and He’s always been looking for me, lost lamb, lost child. I’ve always been his child. Now I’m his forever child all the way through—and He knew all that before He even made me.

Yes, the answer is too simple for the wise. But the understanding? That will take all of eternity--even for the simple.

Avi, it’s so good to be known by You, and to know that in Heaven no one will ever again feel misunderstood. No one will ever again feel invisible and written off. I’m looking forward to learning who my brothers and sisters really are, to see their hearts. But most of all, I look forward to spending eternity making new discoveries about You. I can hardly wait to start. Show me more of You here.

In Your Holy Name, Amen. 

* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFilnKaA8a4

WHOSE?

  The LORD said to him, “What is that in your hand?” “A staff,” he replied.           The LORD said, “Throw it on the ground.” Moses threw it on the ground and it became a snake, and he ran from it. Then the LORD said, “Reach out your hand and take it by the tail.”  So, Moses reached out and took hold of the snake, and it turned back into a staff in his hand.”                                 Exodus 4:2-4 NIV

I’ve been struggling with discouragement lately. Hard to balance people and responsibilities in my life and have any creative energy left over for these books that just keep growing. Counting down the days left to me, counting up all I have left to write. Trying to come up with an answer that equals productivity.

“Oh, LORD,” I ask with Moses, “do You have anyone else for this task? The older I get, the harder the writing gets (and the bending over it long enough) and the less I can handle distractions, and the more distractions there are. I want to run from it. Think I could catch Moses?”

His answer to Moses: “What is that in your hand?”

His answer to me: “What’s that in your hand?”

“This old hand?”

“Well, duh.”

“A pen—but, uhhh, I think it’s empty.”

“Throw it on the ground.” Fertile ground. Holy ground. His ground. I stand there barefooted.

“Listen! Quit trying to do it in your own strength. “Throw – It - Down. Rest under My wings while I give new strength to your wings. Then pick it up by the tail, right where you left off.”

Thank You for scratching that cowardly prayer, Avi. I’d way rather You give me the RoundToIt and the UpToIt to finish my job myself, and to finish well. So here it goes. “Down, Pen!”

Think my snaky book can sneak up behind the enemy and bite his heel? No—but Your book through me can. Thank You for not giving up on me, Avi, and for not letting me give up.

In Your Holy Name, Amen.