Tag Archives: Bible

Unexpected faith

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As I began to unpack in my last post, it’s easy to think that faith thrives when the environment shelters it. However, faith actually suffers when roots don’t need to run deep. There’s something about hostile or dry environments that draws out deep faith.

And when faith springs up and flowers in dark places, it shines even brighter. 

The Bible puts Sidon firmly in the “dark” category. The region became wealthy through the trading done by their sea merchants, and the triumvirate of Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel all predict Sidon’s downfall for her sins against God (Is 23; Jer 25:15-22; Ez 28:20–24). But it turns out that the widow’s faith is not exceptional; it’s actually part of a pattern. 

First, Yahweh’s Temple is built with Sidonian cedar (1 Chron 22:4). How did that happen? While God intended for Joshua to drive out the peoples in modern-day Lebanon (Josh 13:6), the Sidonians were among those who remained as a thorn in Israel’s side (Judg 3:1-4). But when King David sets up a system of tribute and forced labor for many of these tenacious peoples, he instead works out a cooperative relationship with Sidon and Tyre. 1 Kings 5 records that the king of Tyre loves David so much that he willingly contributes huge amounts of cedar and woodworkers to build the Temple. 

Jumping to the New Testament, Jesus shames the Galileans by telling them that if Sidon had seen the miracles he performed among them, they would have repented quickly (Matt 11:21). Clearly he sees them as spiritually open and much more willing to accept his words than his own people are. Indeed Luke 6:17 notes that large numbers of people from Sidon come to hear him preach and be healed. 

Then in Mark 7:24-30 and Matthew 15:21-28, Jesus brings his disciples to the area for a retreat. They’ve been running flat out, and John the Baptist has been martyred. Jesus intends to give them a break in a resort town, but a local woman recognizes Jesus and pesters his disciples relentlessly about her daughter’s demonic possession. Jesus first puts her off by saying his primary mission is to Israel. But her tenacity, her submission and her scrappy logic impress him. Jesus responds, “Woman, you have great faith!” He then rewards this faith by healing her daughter. The receptivity of this audience seems to change Jesus’ priorities in the short term. The next thing Jesus does is head for the Gentile region east of the Sea of Galilee. In fact, Jesus never commends the faith of anyone in Israel, but only among foreigners (for instance, Matthew 8:10). 

So the Sidonian widow is not really an aberration. There are a number of reasons why this woman might find Israel’s God appealing:

  • Power: Baal, her people’s god of harvest, seems powerless to defeat Yahweh’s control over the rain.
  • Compassion: Israel’s God shows himself willing to hear the cry of widows and orphans, even foreign ones. As Exodus 22:21–23 says: “Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt. Do not take advantage of the widow or the fatherless. If you do and they cry out to me, I will certainly hear their cry.” 
  • Grace: She’s encountering grace on a daily basis. In spite of her sin, Elijah and his God are still providing for her rather than judging her.

There’s something about Sidon, this land in such close proximity to God’s people, struggling to hold onto its beliefs and stand against Israel’s religion. Spiritual sensitivity and hungry seekers keep popping up from that region throughout the Bible. Perhaps this is the ultimate answer to Jesus’ provocative question to the Jews: if there were lots of widows in Israel, why did God use a widow in Sidon? (Luke 4:25-26). 

But what if these aren’t one-off examples? What if the roots are connected? What if the widow is open to Yahweh because of David’s kindness to King Hiram? What if the woman with the demon-possessed daughter reaches out to Jesus because the story of that widow was embedded in her culture? A seed had been planted centuries before.

Something similar happened in Ethiopia. My wife Becky and I once had the opportunity to visit an Ethiopian Coptic Church in Israel. The priest we spoke with recalled the Church’s long history, pointing to a tapestry behind him depicting the Queen of Sheba’s visit to King Solomon (1 Ki 9). He then connected her story to a God-fearing Ethiopian who centuries later made his own pilgrimage to Jerusalem (Acts 8:26-40) and was baptized as a Jesus-follower. Both the Coptic Church and the Beta Israel community in that country have ancient roots.

In Wycliffe, we hear about these seeds all the time. Before a missionary sets out for the most distant place she can imagine, she needs to understand that God is there and working before she arrives. As I noted in my last post, there’s a second narrative: the purposes God is pursuing in the lives of the people before the missionary arrives. If you have any doubts, read Don Richardson’s 1981 classic, Eternity in Their Hearts. 

Faith can spring up in surprising contexts, standing out even more because of the darkness it’s set against. And dormant seeds that were sown centuries before can suddenly spring to life.

Do you have one of those stories, where you’ve seen God at work in unexpected places? I’d love to hear examples of God revealing a little spark of faith where we’d never expect it. Leave me a comment with your story.

Elijah series:

Unexpected testing

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In my last post I looked at the remarkable sources of God’s provision for the prophet Elijah: God mobilizes scavengers, multiplies the assets of the poor and enables the marginalized to contribute. In doing so, God challenges the assumptions and mental blocks of the privileged and presumptive sources of provision—people like me. In fact, the story is told in a way I can identify with, because its focus is Elijah.

However, even as God is working his purposes in Elijah’s life, he’s also working in the widow’s life. He yearns for her to know him, and he’s using Elijah to bring about his purposes for her. The widow’s version of this story might read a lot differently, but there’s not much detail on which to build that retelling. So we try to read into the woman’s actions and the small handful of words captured in this story.

For instance, I would like to know if, when she enters the scene, she already has a spark of faith. Did God reveal in some way, prior to her meeting Elijah, his plan and calling to her? Even as she has lived on the edges of Israel’s border, has she been seeking Israel’s God? I also wonder how this widow responds to God’s daily miracle. 

In the previous act of this story (1 Ki 17:8-16), this widow took a leap of faith to trust the man of God. In this final act (1 Ki 17:17-24), she faces a crisis of faith. Just as things are starting to look hopeful, her son dies, and this setback seems to confirm her worst fears: that this God is just like all the others.9 For most people in her situation, there is no rags to riches outcome. She may even have been bracing for bad news because it figures, after the series of misfortunes she has experienced. Her words reveal her resentments and core beliefs: she asks Elijah what he has against her, but she’s really asking what God has against her. This loss might not be as painful if her heart hadn’t opened a bit.

It’s interesting that she raises the issue of sin (v18). Romans 5:13 tells us that “sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law” (see also Rom 5:15); therefore, she’s not under the Hebrew Law. However, she understands in some way that she has missed the mark; she’s not in right standing with God. 

In that comment, she reveals that she understands sin has a price. But she also reveals that she was expecting grace, the primary characteristic of Yahweh she has personally experienced so far. In her pain and anger, she reveals a level of conviction and a fragile faith. 

Digging further, history tells us that worship of Baal sometimes required child sacrifice. Now the God of Israel seems to have taken her son. So again, is this God any different? It’s an enormous test of her faith, beyond what many fledgling believers could withstand. 

In fact, this is where Western believers sometimes get tripped up in their faith. Why would God allow this kind of trial when the woman’s faith is so fragile? It’s appalling to read stories like Jesus confronting the rich, young ruler and then watching him walk away (Matt 19:16-22) or offending his followers and chasing away those who weren’t serious (John 6:60-66). Why wouldn’t the God who doesn’t snuff out a smouldering wick or break a bent reed (Is 42:3) shelter this widow’s simple expression of faith until it’s strong enough to withstand a storm? What if her faith breaks? 

Elijah’s response suggests he has the same mindset; he even seems to be having his own crisis of faith. He doesn’t speak to the woman at all: no compassion expressed for her loss, but instead, a brusque, “Give me your son” and a march up the stairs to his room. His prayer reads to me as rather accusatory: God, did you bring tragedy on her? Did you kill the boy? Perhaps he expected his presence in her home to have brought her some kind of covering rather than make her life worse.

The passage says God listens—even to sullen, angry prayers like Elijah’s. Yet, for Elijah, the son’s resurrection was probably more of a relief than a moment of great joy. Maybe the woman’s faith will survive this crisis now.

Don’t miss the amazing faith in Elijah’s prayer; he asks God for something no one had ever dared to dream of before. Up until this moment, death was always the end. We get used to the New Testament stories, but this was the first recorded resurrection in the Bible.

Take a minute to read one of them: Luke 7:11-17. Jesus is traveling in Galilee when he encounters a funeral procession. The only son of a widow has passed away. Jesus raises the young man to life, then gives him to his mother. In this parallel story I see two insights into the Zarephath story.

First, Jesus responds with compassion and cares for the widow before addressing death. The contrast to Elijah’s bedside manner exposes where his response was lacking. Perhaps the difference is simply one of character and personality: Elijah was full of faith, but he was also a flawed individual who was prone to emotional ups and downs. But it also reveals power and knowledge: Jesus knew how the story would end, because even then he had authority over death, while Elijah was pleading for the impossible.

Second, we see the response of the witnesses: fear seizes them and they glorify God. They conclude two things: Jesus is a great prophet, and God has visited his people. The Sidonian widow concludes the same thing about Elijah and God:

  • She says, “Now I know.” She has experienced it herself.
  • She recognizes Elijah as a prophet—his words are truth, and in his mouth are the words of Yahweh.
  • When she identifies Elijah as a man of God, she refers to God as Elohim—the supreme God, the God of gods, the God over Baal.
  • The deeper message is a profession of her belief in God. She no longer refers to Yahweh as Elijah’s God, as she had in v12. God has visited her.

In God’s miraculous resurrection of her son, she encounters even greater power and even greater grace than she has been experiencing on a daily basis.

So why does God give her such an extreme test? I believe he knows that her faith can’t stay in its current condition. Elijah will soon be leaving, and she needs to be able to stand on her own feet. It is time for her to reach a decision about whether she and her household will believe, and serve the Lord (Josh 24:15).

I started this series researching to see how non-Westerners read this chapter. The North American approach would likely be to coddle such fragile faith by protecting the seedling, growing it carefully and guarding it from any real test in the early years. Many in the East and the South would say that’s unrealistic and point out that too much water or protection of a plant leads to shallow roots. Years later, when the plant is growing and should be mature, it is actually still fragile because of its roots. They would expect sacrifice, suffering and danger to come for a new believer, and rapid root growth is necessary for resilience.

We don’t know what happens with this woman after this. But her story can’t be looked at in isolation. Her line will now continue, and when seeds of faith are planted, you never know when they might pop back up again. We’ll look at that in our final post in the series.

References (intentionally seeking non-Western views)

9. Tse, Justin. “Elijah.” (Hong Kong) A Sermon for Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Proper 5. Patheos. 27 July 2016. https://www.patheos.com/blogs/ecperson/2013/06/10/preaching-elijah/

Elijah series:

Unexpected provision

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In my previous post, I looked at Elijah’s preparation for this moment when God will bring three people together to provide for each others’ needs. Read along in 1 Kings 17:7-16.

Now we meet a Sidonian mother who is the very picture of dependency. This woman might be described as “house poor”: living in a 2-storey house4 in a resort town suggests she may once have had a better life.5 She lives in a paternalistic society, where widows lack legal rights outside of bearing a son.3 The book of Ruth gives us a glimpse of the life of a couple of widows, and the bitterness Naomi felt from the way her life turned out (Ruth 1). On top of that, the way she sees the world is likely framed by a narrative like this one: her people have been marginalized for centuries; Joshua, David and Solomon were not able to dislodge them from their land,5 and they have a long history of worshiping a god who angers Yahweh. So she’s stigmatized and oppressed by Elijah’s people, and she’s caught downstream from a political and religious battle between those in power.

Think of all the minoritized demographics all wrapped up in this one woman! Take a minute to absorb the context and put yourself in her shoes. Feel her hunger pangs and her concern for her son. And consider why she’s outside the gate of the city gathering sticks. 

It’s remarkable to think about the sources God summons to meet Elijah’s needs. So often we form our own idea of how God will provide, or we even strategize as if God needs our suggestions. But the God described as owning the cattle on a thousand hills (Ps 50:10) shows here that he can mobilize that provision through the most unexpected conduits. As Jesus asks rhetorically (Luke 4:25-26), why would God choose this woman of all possible providers for Elijah? If it had to be a widow, there were Jewish widows and even wealthy widows. Everything is upside down from our expectations.

How would this widow in a Baal-worshipping region respond to God’s command? We know the birds will obey their Creator, but will she? Funny enough, the text doesn’t tell us whether God briefed her on her role. It’s difficult to interpret in the brief clips of conversation whether she was sarcastic or resentful or open. I’ve tried reading them with different tones of voice.

Her provision starts with hospitality for the weary prophet. When Elijah comes to her, she welcomes him… to some degree. To western ears, his requests seem rude.4 For instance, his first request for water is basic, but note that he’s asking for the very resource that he’s responsible for making rare and overpriced! To eastern ears, her response is rude. She skips a number of steps of hospitality expected in that culture—such as inviting him to rest or giving him water to wash his feet after his journey—some of which were affordable even to one living at her level of poverty.5

Elijah’s requests come with a promise (v14), but they’re a big leap of faith for this woman: a third of her last meal, and he must have the first portion. Why should she believe the promise of the God of Israel, a foreign deity? Perhaps it’s desperation that forces her to place her trust in the word of “Yahweh-is-God.” Joseph Bayode observes about this decision point6:

She had every reason to say no. She was desperate. She had a child to protect. She had only enough for one last supper and a slow, sorrowful death. But instead of resisting, she obeyed. She gave out of her lack, not her abundance. And in that moment, her faith triggered divine provision.

The Sidonian widow has to make two leaps: Elijah’s God can be her provider, but he also intends for her to be a provider.7 What mental and cultural barriers does the Sidonian widow overcome to say yes? 

Perhaps more relevant to us, what mental and cultural barriers does Elijah have to overcome to receive God’s provision from this woman? What does this man of power, access and comparative wealth have to learn in order to receive help?

I’m struck by the empathy required in God’s solution. First, Elijah becomes equal with the woman and her son. The Old Testament regularly lumps foreigners, the fatherless and widows as similar vulnerable populations under legal protection4 (see examples such as Dt 10:18-19 and 24:17-21). For all the power, influence and relative wealth Elijah possesses, he is no different from her.

Second, the next weeks and years ahead are a matter of daily faith and struggle, because God doesn’t provide all at once. Oil and flour that never run dry are not a source of wealth building, but a means of daily subsistence requiring continued faith. 

The three have to negotiate a co-existence. In order for Elijah’s needs to be met, God forces him to wade into the woman’s world of poverty—not aloof or indifferent, but showing concern about her daily need.8 Digging out of a poverty cycle is not a quick or easy thing. He has to walk with her as she wrestles free of the multiple levels of material, mental, emotional and spiritual poverty. He is an expression of Immanuel—God with us—to this woman.

It leaves me wondering: What mental blocks do we need to challenge as we think about sources of provision? What if God wants to move his Church away from an unhealthy dependence on Western funding? And what if he wants to challenge our view of wealth as a prerequisite for provision. It’s counter-intuitive, but God has all the resources, and sometimes he directs them through surprising conduits.

This story shows that everyone can participate in his mission. There’s a great example in 2 Corinthians 8:1-5, when the first-generation Macedonian churches, in their poverty and youthful passion, begged for the privilege of contributing to God’s work. God has a very different view of assets than we do. He often starts with what’s in our hands, as he did with Moses and his staff (Ex 4:2). And as he does here with the flour and oil. He’s the originator of the asset-based-development strategy. 

For that matter, what about sources of truth and sources of authority? We’re living in a day when the center of Christianity has moved outside the West. The centers of influence for the global Church are now in places with a much younger Church. Are we willing to receive calls to Biblical orthodoxy from places like Rwanda and Ghana? Are we willing to be challenged by the development of Indigenous theology coming out of Brazil and Indonesia?

As leaders, it’s a good time to re-orient our posture toward this new era for the Church. Ask yourself: what mental barriers you need to break in order to be ready for what God wants to do?

Reference (intentionally seeking non-Western views)
3. Seifert, Marlon. (Brazil)
4. van der Walt, J.S. (South Africa)
5. Gafney, Wil. (U.S., African American) “Hermeneutics of Reversal: Widow of Zarephath.” Womanists Wading in the Word. 18 March 2022. https://www.wilgafney.com/2022/03/18/hermeneutics-of-reversal-widow-of-zarephath/
6. Bayode, Joseph. (Nigeria) “The Widow of Zarephath.” Medium. 4 May 2025  https://medium.com/@JosephBayode/the-widow-of-zarephath-38c8957dc5a2
7. Claassens, Juliana. (South Africa) “Commentary on 1 Kings 17:8-16.” Working Preacher. 8 Nov 2009. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-32-2/commentary-on-1-kings-178-16-3
8. Hunter, Max. (U.S., African American) “Racial Reconciliation in the New Creation: 1 Kings 17.”The Center for Biblical and Theological Education, Seattle Pacific University. August 2014. https://spu.edu/lectio/racial-reconciliation-in-the-new-creation/

Elijah series:

Unexpected preparation

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I’ve been studying how God provides for his mission—sometimes surprising the recipient and the provider of that resource. There are few more surprising examples than one that Jesus comments on when trying to make a point to the Jewish leaders of his day:

There were many widows in Israel in Elijah’s time, when the sky was shut for three and a half years and there was a severe famine throughout the land. Yet Elijah was not sent to any of them, but to a widow in Zarephath in the region of Sidon (Luke 4:25-26).

As I studied the story he’s referring to, in 1 Kings 17, I had to set aside my Sunday School understanding of the story. Reading it through a traditional Western lens wasn’t much better, so I intentionally sought other perspectives—especially sources in Africa and Asia, as you can see in my reference list. Many are not from my denominational segment, and I admit I’m not entirely comfortable with all that these authors write. But their perspective helped challenge my assumptions and fill in what I might be missing from my cultural lens.

Let me start with a leadership principle: Leaders sometimes fail to think of those who live downstream from their decisions or actions. 1 Kings 17 is set in a larger context, as the end of chapter 16 begins to explain. Queen Jezebel and King Ahab are leading the people of Israel to worship a god from the nearby land of Sidon, the god of rain and harvest: Baal. God’s intent to expose Baal’s actual powerlessness leads to a political and religious battle between representatives of God and Baal. But rather than focusing on those in power, this passage zooms in on the story of two people caught downstream from that battle: Elijah, the unwitting victim of his own action, and a widow and mother caught in the crossfire. So the story selection itself lifts up the weak and marginalized, which was part of Jesus’ point as well.

If you are familiar with the prophet Elijah, you likely picture characteristics like moodiness, fears, inspiring faith, living in the moment, and a sense of theatre. But all the character development in this story takes place along the way; he gets no introduction. So I want to encourage you to look at the chapter with fresh eyes. The reason we know Elijah is a prophet is because of his name and his first words. For a Jewish reader, the story starts this way:

Now Yahweh-is-God… said to Ahab, “As the Lord, the God of Israel, lives, whom I serve, there will be neither dew nor rain in the next few years except at my word.” 

Yes, Elijah’s name gives away his purpose. God intends to show that he is above all other gods by attacking the source of Baal’s power and identity; he will withhold rain. 

Immediately after this proclamation, God tells his man to run and hide, and then offers a series of provisions to get him through the next 42 months. God has an intentional season of preparation in mind. First, he offers the prophet a hiding spot by a brook (v5). There Elijah discovers a ready supply of food Jews were expressly forbidden to eat. The means of delivery, a raven, will make him unclean1 (Lev. 11:15), and the food any scavenger delivers would have unknown origins or preparation methods. So the first thing to consider: What did it take for a kosher Israelite to receive food from a scavenger?

For that matter, why would the God who gave the Law intentionally ask Elijah to defy the Law? He does the same with the apostle Peter in Acts 10, and that gives us a clue: God prepares both men ahead of time to minister in a foreign environment. They could never engage cross-culturally if they were sticklers who couldn’t even set foot in a Gentile house or eat their food.2 

There’s another lesson for Elijah during this period. He can’t look too far ahead, because relying on a brook during a drought is a losing proposition. He has put all of his trust in God, and God seems to have only anticipated some months of provision.3 Elijah watches the water level drop day by day, not knowing how God will meet his needs in the future. 

Having learned the life of a fugitive and daily dependence on God4, Elijah is now ready for the mission God is sending him on. That’s right: God’s goal isn’t just to meet Elijah’s needs while he waits for Jezebel and Ahab to soften; God intends to use him as a cross-cultural missionary, to meet the needs of someone else hurt by the drought and famine.

Only after the brook dries up does God reveal phase 2 of his plan. God’s solution for his prophet’s needs means sending Elijah:

  • Over 75 miles away, on the opposite fringe of Ahab’s kingdom, a journey either through a hostile kingdom or around it. No doubt fraught with danger.
  • Into the heart of Baal-worshiping Sidon, the land ruled by Jezebel’s father (16:31, 17:9). This location was no less safe for Elijah than staying in Israel.
  • To a widow preparing her last meal before giving up.

Can you feel the objections and questions rising in Elijah? Before experiencing and receiving God’s provision, he has to overcome his own mental blocks. 

Have you ever gone through a season that in retrospect, seems designed to break your previous patterns of understanding? God can use failure to do that. Or a cross-cultural clash. Or a crisis. It’s painful in the moment, but God’s plan for your next phase wouldn’t be possible without it. For Elijah, it’s going to get even more challenging.

References (intentionally seeking non-Western views)
1. Ruolngul, James R. (India) “The Wisdom of God in His Providence.” Independent Church of India. 11 November 2022. https://www.ici.net.in/the-wisdom-of-god-in-his-providence/
2. Compare the centurions in Mathew 8:8 and Acts 10:24-26, for example.
3. Seifert, Marlon. (Brazil) “Elijah and The Widow.” Sermon. 2 Oct 2025. https://prmarlon.com/blog-2/elijah-and-the-widow
4. van der Walt, J.S. (South Africa) “The recipient becoming a participant and the participant becoming a recipient: A strange encounter in 1 Kings 17 with a not so strange outcome.” Acta Theologica, University of the Free State. 10 December 2021. https://scielo.org.za/pdf/at/v41s32/13.pdf. 
Quoting Wyatt, Stephanie. (South Africa) “Jezebel, Elijah, and the Widow of Zarephath: A Ménage à Trois that Estranges the Holy and Makes the Holy the Strange.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament. SAGE Publications. 15 May 2012. https://doi.org/10.1177/0309089212438020

Elijah series:

Countercultural Integrity

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New Years is the point in the year when recency bias culminates. Journalists love to reflect back on the year, and top-10 and top-100 lists proliferate. It’s easy to fall into this fallacy that puts too much stock in recent experiences or current-day successes over historical comparisons. Any conversation about the “Greatest of All Time” is likely going to give too much consideration to modern-day athletes, actors and statesmen as we forget some of the amazing feats of early-day practitioners, especially when evaluated against their context and antagonists.

So it’s quite remarkable to weigh these words from God in Ezekiel 14:13-14:

…if a country sins against me by being unfaithful and I stretch out my hand against it… even if these three men—Noah, Daniel and Job—were in it, they could save only themselves by their righteousness, declares the Sovereign Lord.

That’s an interesting grouping of Bible characters that’s easy to gloss over when read 2,600 years after it was written. In Ezekiel’s day, Noah and Job would have been legendary. But Daniel was still alive at the time this passage was written—likely in the time between Daniel 2 and 4. A lot of what we know about this young man hadn’t taken place yet.

I’m trying to think of a parallel. It’s not on the same level as comparing LeBron James to Wilt Chamberlain, or a current-day activist reformer to Mahatma Gandhi. It’s an entirely different scale, like rounding out the following groupings with someone who is alive today:

  • Plato, Aristotle and _______
  • Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and _______

How would you even begin to put someone else in that elite company?

It would be much less dangerous to include a third historical figure, where the record is largely complete. Were there no other ancient figures to list among those two legends? Perhaps Abraham, who asked God for mercy, interceding on behalf of two cities that were known for wickedness (Gen 18:22-23)? Caleb, who wholeheartedly followed the Lord in contrast with many of his contemporaries (Num 14:24)? Kings Hezekiah or Josiah, who were both described as exceptional followers of the Lord, who wholeheartedly turned to Him and and unceasingly obeyed (2 Kings 18:5-6, 23:25)?

What trait is celebrated by grouping these three? Personal righteousness, specifically a righteousness that stands against pressure to conform. Let’s call it courageous righteousness and countercultural integrity. The thing about righteousness is that, until the record is closed, it can be gone in an instant. Declaring that a contemporary figure is righteous comes with considerable risk. Ask any company who has had to disentangle themselves from a celebrity endorsement contract. And we can certainly point to many recent church leaders who were exemplary until their secrets were unearthed.

What does the record say about these three figures?

Noah

Noah is a mythic figure, the subject of legends and known to everyone as the man who saved civilization in the world’s only true historical global catastrophe. Before he began building the ark, Genesis 6:9 introduces him as a righteous man, blameless in his generation—in contrast with a perverse culture described in verses 1-7. The apostle Peter later says not only that God preserved him because of his personal righteousness, but that he was a preacher of righteousness (2 Pet 2:5). And Hebrews 11:7 says he inherited righteousness through his faith and in building the ark, he condemned the world.

Job

This ancient figure was commended by God for being blameless, fearing God and turning away from evil—like no one else on earth (Job 1:8 and 2:3). He searched for sin in his own heart and his civic and business activities (ch 31), and held onto his integrity even against his wife’s advice (2:9). He made sacrifices on behalf of his adult children in case any had sinned (1:5) and interceded for his friends. After chapters of false accusations against him, God himself endorsed Job for speaking rightly about God; his prayers alone were acceptable to God (42:7-9). Job is a model of someone who was “purified… in the furnace of affliction” (Isaiah 48:10).

Daniel

This Jewish captive—who would go on to serve as an advisor for decades to a succession of powerful pagan kings, and gain a reputation by preaching righteousness to King Nebuchadnezzar (Daniel 4:27), praying in spite of religious laws, and for surviving a death sentence in a lion’s den (ch 6)—had done very little when his name was dropped in Ezekiel 14.

As of this writing, this young captive had paired his looks and his brain with the courage of his convictions, refusing to defile himself in spite of high stakes (ch 1). He was then noticed by the Babylonian king as a standout wise man in whom was the spirit of the gods and the ability to communicate with the “revealer of mysteries” (ch 2). Ezekiel’s prophecy is evidence that, even early in Daniel’s career, his reputation had spread to the exiles—like Ezekiel. It likely soared after such a strong endorsement from God himself!

Most of us are too jaded after a series of scandals to count on any modern day figure seeing their integrity survive their lives intact. Of course, God alone knows that Daniel will burnish that early reputation even further, and is not in danger of failing.

What’s my point?

Who could stand today in that righteousness hall of fame? Like Noah, does your integrity stand out against the backdrop of our culture? Like Job and Daniel, can your righteousness stand against pressures to conform?

How many of our contemporaries have started out strong, developed a reputation for integrity and courage, only to fail before the end? It’s a reminder that leaders need constant vigilance against entitlement and compromise. Maintaining our character is hard work. 

As Bobby Clinton says in his Leadership Emergence Theory, very few attain the status he calls “Afterglow”—“the fruit of a lifetime of ministry and growth [that] culminates in an era of recognition and indirect influence,” a time in which “Others will seek them out because of their consistent record in following God” (The Making of a Leader, p47). As a leader, I long to get to that point, with few regrets and a consistency worth celebrating.

Fellow leaders, what disciplines are you putting in place to ensure that when you step down from leadership you will maintain the good name you’ve spent a lifetime building? As new years begin, we love inventories, reflection and examens (If you’re unfamiliar, here’s an example), and the one in Job 31 is a great starting place—covering a breadth of areas like sexual sin, deceit, greed, injustice, stinginess, jealousy and people pleasing.

Dazzled

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Once someone has a personal encounter with God, there’s no return to his or her mundane prior existence. One of the most memorable groups from the Christmas story is the first witnesses to his birth, the shepherds. In Luke 2:8-20, we see their transformation from calm night watchers to eager seekers to passionate witnesses.

But in his poem, “The Shepherds,” Mario Luzi points out the sheep were also eyewitnesses deeply impacted by that experience:

            And where would
                  those dazzled sheep graze now?
      Where were the rams pushing them?
                                      There was
      no grass at that height.
                        There was some
      Much further down
              But they didn’t want it, that grass
                                was crushed
                                and bitter,
                                      Now
                                      they craved something else.
(excerpt, translated by Luigi Bonaffini and taken from Biola University’s 2024 Advent Project)

An experience of the divine is life-redirecting. Our desires and values have changed, and the ordinary is now ruined. We see it in the admission from the Jewish authorities in Acts 4:13 that the disciples were hardly recognizable because “they had been with Jesus.” We see it in the radical transformation of fire-breathing Saul into the great apostle Paul through an encounter with the Jesus he had been persecuting. (Acts 9) And we see it all over the world as people groups meet Jesus through the translated Word of God. 

Those who have been dazzled are no longer hungry for what used to satisfy, but crave something higher. 

I sometimes wonder what happened to others who had an encounter with the divine, but the camera moves on, and there are no further updates. For instance:

  • Where does Lazarus show up in the book of Acts? How does a man who once was dead (John 11,12), who can empathize with Jesus’s experience like no one else, engage in the early movement Jesus started? I can’t imagine him fading quietly into the background.
  • What happened to the seventy Jesus sent out as witnesses and miracle workers? (Luke 10:1) They saw Jesus’ power coursing through their own words and in their own hands, and they had big stories to tell! (Luke 10:17) Some suggest that Andronicus and Junia (Romans 16:7) might have been two of these early ones sent out in pairs by Jesus, because Paul refers to them as “outstanding among the apostles,” and says they “were in Christ before I was.”
  • How did carrying Jesus’ cross change Simon, a bystander from northern Africa, who was forced into the spotlight for a brief moment? (Mark 15:21) While he never shows up again, his transformation is evident in his family: his sons are well known to the early Roman church, and Paul thinks of Simon’s wife as his adopted mother. (Romans 16:13)
  • What happened to the thousands in the streets of Acts 2, who heard the empowered apostles speaking in their languages? How did they lay the foundation throughout Rome and modern-day Turkey for Paul’s and Peter’s ministries? (Acts 13:13; 16:6; 18:2,23; 1 Peter 1:1)

And whatever happened to those shepherds? In the moment, they excitedly told everyone about meeting Jesus. Were they ever able to go back to their fields? Did any of them show up in the margins of the events described throughout the gospels? No doubt they were watching, anticipating a seismic shift. 

But the baby had to grow up before he could begin his earth-shaking ministry. The payoff would be well beyond their lifetimes. It was those who heard and responded to their message who would experience Jesus’ three years of ministry, his death and his resurrection. Sometimes the transformation comes well downstream from the original encounter. That’s where Scripture becomes an enduring witness for the generations that follow.

Maybe you have one of those transformation stories, or you are the downstream result of a transformative encounter. In what way were you dazzled, unable to return to the ordinary food that used to sustain you? Take some time to reflect on your own story, and your family’s story. If you have the time this Christmas, I’d love to hear your transformation story.

I’m going to sleep

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You’ve likely heard the line: “The Lord grants sleep to those he loves.” So what does my brain conclude when I’m awake in the early hours, trying to get my mind to shut down so my body can get back to sleep? Insomnia already lends itself to negative spirals, so you don’t want to let the thought in that God’s love is measured by the quality or quantity of our sleep.

One morning last month when I finally gave up trying to sleep, I looked up that verse in two versions to capture the nuances. It’s even more confusing, because what does that last line have to do with everything that precedes it?

Unless the Lord builds the house,
    those who build it labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
    the watchman stays awake in vain.
It is in vain that you rise up early
    and go late to rest,
eating the bread of anxious toil;
    for he gives to his beloved sleep. (ESV)

Unless the Lord builds the house,
    the builders labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
    the guards stand watch in vain.
In vain you rise early
    and stay up late,
toiling for food to eat—
    for he grants sleep to those he loves. (NIV)

Let’s dig in and try to put the thoughts together. If only I was working from a bit more sleep…

Notice a few phrases: “Labor in vain.” “Stay awake in vain.” “Rise early in vain.” “Stay up late in vain.” And “anxious toil.” Ultimately all of these situations boil down to a person believing he is indispensable – that everything depends on him.

Or her. Remember that the celebrated wife in Proverbs 31 rises while it is still night to provide food for her household (v15), and her lamp does not go out at night (v18). Lack of sleep is no respecter of gender.

Sleepless nights are particularly a problem for leaders, who are builders, who are watchmen, who are providers and protectors. These roles are not trivial. People’s livelihoods, and even their lives, could be at stake. Knowing the author is Solomon also tells us another piece of context: this house he’s building is the Temple in Jerusalem (1 Kings 5-8). It adds a spiritual element to our roles: as spiritual shepherds and watchmen, we must rely on God to keep watch over the souls of those we lead (Heb 13:17).

The first point of the psalm is that we need to cooperate with God’s work. Unless God is working, the fact we’re staying up late or rising early won’t get us ahead. Better to give it to God and let him carry the burden for us. When we do that, whether it’s at night, during vacations or even during work hours, we are able to release the pressure of holding everything ourselves.

But let’s go deeper. Why does the author—Solomon himself—bring up the fact that we’re beloved? This gets at the heart of why the work doesn’t really depend on us. 

We know God chose Solomon to be king even before he was born. He would be a man of rest, and God himself would call him his son (1 Chronicles 22:9-10). The Lord loved Solomon and even gave him a special name: “God’s beloved” (2 Samuel 12:24-25). When God appeared to him in a dream and he chose wisdom over health and long life (1 Kings 3:10-12), he was not trying to prove his worth because he already had it.

Worthiness is not part of a father’s equation; if a son didn’t earn that status, he can’t lose it or gain more of it through his decisions and actions. That knowledge leads you to a place of deep rest.

Finally, notice that three of the things we do “in vain” take place at night. When I lose sleep at night, it’s because I’m turning things over in my head. As soon as something wakes me, my brain immediately begins racing 100 miles an hour. So at 3am, I’m moving from problem to problem, turning them around and trying to solve them. But I’m not writing anything down. I’m not capturing thoughts. I’m not getting up and working the problem. It’s all in vain.

Anxious toil was Martha’s problem, too. While her sister Mary sat at Jesus’ feet, listening to him, Martha was working hard, “worried and upset about many things” (Luke 10:38-42). I used to think I didn’t have a problem with anxiety, especially compared to others… until I named my sleepless hours for what they are: anxious toil.

So over the past week or two, I’ve been trying something. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I remind myself that I don’t need to do anything to earn or improve my status with God. I hand my anxieties and the sources of those anxieties back to God to hold for the night. I let him be the watchman. Then I try to dwell on what God says about me as his beloved. I picture myself sitting at Jesus feet.

I don’t often quote popes. But sometimes at 3am, I also quote John XXIII’s great line: “This is your church, Lord. I’m going to bed.”

Good enough

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When you need to make a decision, what percent of information would you say you need to move ahead? Is it closer to 100% or 60%? Err one way, and you fall into the ditch of analysis paralysis. The other side of the road can spill you into rash action. 

In Blink, Malcolm Gladwell argues that in many situations, people know instantaneously what they need to do, and the problem with waiting is that you can talk yourself out of the right answer. That was my experience in every high school exam. If I knew the answer, great. If I had an inkling but wasn’t sure, I’d then try to logic out the answer, and I’d choose a different answer than my immediate sense. Gladwell suggests you may have enough information in a split second to know what to do, and time could be your enemy. 

In The Contrarian’s Guide to Leadership, Dr. Steven Sample goes the other way. He urges leaders to ask, “How much time do I have?” If you have another week to make a decision, some additional information might come to light that would lead to a better decision. Of course, if the decision is needed today, you have to make the best decision you can with whatever information is available now, knowing that to not make a decision is a decision. The reality is that some problems resolve themselves, or solutions emerge as other leaders step up. In other words, the more lead time, the better your decision success rate should be. Think of it as strategic procrastination: put off until tomorrow what doesn’t have to be decided today. When time is up, whatever knowledge you have is “good enough.” 

There are ditches on both sides of the road.

Back to my original question: For you, what percentage of the information you wish you had is sufficient to make a decision? It’s a question of risk tolerance. If it helps, ask it this way, “Compared to others, for a particular type of decision, am I more or less risk averse?” 

For me, I can certainly be decisive, but when asked to make a decision, I find it helpful to dig deeper. The amount of information needed depends on the scope, gravity and reversibility of the decision. Most leadership decisions are not life and death, but some have far-reaching implications. Here are some of my approaches:

  1. Filtering. The amount of information available to us is unprecedented, so it’s obviously not the quantity of information we need. One of Gladwell’s solutions is the idea of filtering the factors that matter, so it’s less about how much information than what types of information to pay attention to. I remember a very helpful acronym from my university calculus classes: TBU. Some information is True But Useless. 
  1. Breaking it down. Many decisions are actually a series of decisions, and you proceed to the next stage if the answer is “not no.” In these cases, you have time to see how the first “yes” develops before proceeding or adjusting course. 
  1. Prototyping. I have seen that many decisions allow for a ready-aim-fire, aim-and-fire again approach. In my work with innovators, I’ve learned the value of a minimal viable product (MVP) to start moving, and to test and learn from earlier attempts while working on a more effective version 2.0.
  1. Holding. I tend toward Sample’s advice, determining what kind of decision is needed and how long I need. In his dissertation on “Leading with Limited Knowledge,” Rob Hay describes “holding” as carrying, pondering, and wrestling with an issue, turning it around in your hand to consider its many facets. In the middle of a situation—when thinking, praying, reflecting and discerning are most critical—time and space are costly. But those are key parts of a leader’s job description. 
  1. Testing. For significant decisions, I often utilize Ruth Haley Barton’s spiritual discernment process laid out in Pursuing God’s Will Together. There are a lot of great practices there, but let me highlight one. Barton recommends deciding in your mind one way and letting it sit for a while before doing the same with the other choice. The implications of the decision emerge in ways you might not have noticed if you stayed in neutral.

In Acts 15, the early Church demonstrated a form of discernment in the way they approached a critical decision. The question they faced touched on deep-seated biases and had very significant implications that could tear the Church apart: Should the Church remain exclusive to Jews, or should it expand to include Gentiles? After hearing the facts and listening to debate, James, the leader of the Church in Jerusalem, held up their arguments against his own study of Scripture and then made a judgment call. Three times after that, the Church carried out implementation steps that “seemed good”—to various parties, “to the Holy Spirit and to us” (Acts 15:22, 25, 28). 

There’s a humility in those words. Even when it’s an earth-shaking decision that will decide the future of the Church, the best James and the elders could do was conclude that it seemed good.  It’s an acknowledgement that our best efforts to hear the arguments and logic out the implications are limited and flawed, because we are human. Even if God clearly speaks, we can get it wrong because of our interpretations or the lens we use. The most we can do is conclude that it seems right, and accept that God has given those who lead in this moment the responsibility to make the decision.

We will never get it right 100% of the time, but we have to move forward.

I’ve taken to calling my approach “good enough.” I talk about it in terms of 90%—an arbitrary number that simply represents imperfection. 

  • If I can get 90% of the information that’s available at the point the decision is required, move ahead. 
  • If I can get most of the value out of a 90% MVP approach, move ahead.1
  • If I can get 90% in the room in favor of a direction, move ahead.2
  • And if I’m 90% sure that God is pointing in a certain direction, test that decision, sit with it, share it humbly, and then move ahead. 

Rob Hay promotes the idea of “tentative certainty.” Rather than try to make the whole decision, tentative certainty means being certain enough, with the amount of knowledge available, to take the next step. As you begin to act, pay attention in order to respond to the unexpected and be able to change direction.

  1. That extra 10% will likely take a lot more resources without adding much value anyway. ↩︎
  2. In most cases, people need to know their voice was heard, but consensus isn’t required. ↩︎

An overlapping circle model for mission

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In my previous post, I introduced a way of seeing Acts 1:8 as a call to global Church partnership through the idea of overlapping circles. Like intersecting ripples that radiate across a pond from a rain storm, the location of one church’s “ends of the earth” might be another church’s “Judea,” and one church’s “Samaria” might be another’s “Jerusalem.”

Jesus’ plan for mission could be summarized by four concurrent strategies:

1. Local, indigenous evangelism. Local people have real advantages to being missional in their own context. Instinctively, they know the community and the language. Travel costs are reduced and they don’t need cross-cultural training. The problem is that they lack the ability to step back and notice things that would be obvious to an outsider. In other words, they have blind spots about their own language and culture. To expose those blind spots, it takes a visitor from another ring with fresh eyes showing up and asking dumb questions or breaking the culture and language down through analysis.

2. National outreach. Likewise, everyone has a pretty good grasp of the surrounding and near culture, and some of the same savings in travel and training apply here as well. Certainly local citizens need less help to understand and relate to their culture than a foreigner would. However, there are some problems. They are vulnerable to absorbing the surrounding culture without question or noticing how it’s changing them, perhaps developing nearsightedness or even nationalistic tendencies. One specific trap is that they might gloss over differences like regional biases and flavours. Missions within their own country might still require cross-cultural skills to bridge gaps to their neighbors.

3. Marginalized reconciliation. To my mind, Samaria refers to the groups anyone marginalizes or has trouble getting along with. These are the places where regional biases cross the line into prejudices, and generations of pain and even hatred may need to be unraveled. Ministry in these contexts therefore begins with truth-telling reconciliation. Only after addressing woundedness can individuals or churches be effective witnesses. The good news is that other nations and cultures can act as a neutral third party to set the table. In fact, others’ experiences can help churches with their tensions and struggles if they can learn from and honestly apply the others’ lessons to their own failures and successes.

4. Expatriate missions. In order to reach every nation, some will need to leave their home country to go overseas. This is the costliest approach to missions, but we shouldn’t underestimate the way the gospel has spread and brought transformation around the world because of the faith and risks taken by foreign missionaries. To do it well requires a great deal of understanding in order to fully contextualize the gospel and Scriptures across cultural borders without adding our own cultural ideals and historical assumptions. We go in as servants to the local community or local Church. It also requires making long-term commitments and taking the long view in expectations and metrics.

Bottom line: mission is most effective when the global Church comes together and works together—in local evangelism, national outreach, reconciliation and cross-cultural mission, but also mixing roles like prayer, funding, and other forms of resourcing—to participate together in God’s purposes to draw all people to himself.

Acts 1:8 Series

Overlapping Circles

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After considering how the disciples understood Jesus’ words in Acts 1:8, and how a global, current day Church understands those words, let me get to my point. It starts with two statements:

1. I believe Jesus was speaking to all believers, and he was laying out a pattern for mission that could be applied worldwide: You, the Church, will be my witnesses in concentric circles: wherever you consider your Jerusalem, your Judea, your Samaria and your ends of the earth. 

2. Each circle must be engaged with the humble realization that your “Jerusalem” or “Judea” is someone else’s “ends of the earth,” someone else’s “Samaria.” Our circles overlap. 

This is how I believe Jesus pictured the Church in Acts 1:8:

There are numerous implications of this metaphor.

First, the overlap. Each part of the Church has an epicenter for its missional activity but has responsibility to engage in other rings as God leads them and opens doors. In that way, every part of the world is covered, double covered and triple covered, each location or category the responsibility of multiple branches of the Church.

Second, the ripples crash into each other. These overlapping circles interact with each other and even interdepend on each other. But, as with ripples in a pond, there are secondary impacts as the ripples affect each other. Such overlap is unpredictable, bound to create additional opportunities, consequences and disruptions.

Here are a few implications that come to mind for me:

  • Jesus intended expatriates and local citizens to minister together in mission. An expat Kenyan who wants to do ministry in Canada should certainly work together with local Canadians who are trying to reach their Jerusalem. Any ministry to a marginalized group should incorporate the nearby Church who loves and understands that demographic. As some have said, “Nothing about them without them.”
  • If there’s no local Church among a people group, then the overlapping circles create opportunity for partnership to cover the gap until a church is birthed who can focus on their “Jerusalem.”
  • We’d be fools to try to do mission without local and indigenous insight and partnership. When we go overseas, we must take the role of servants, putting ourselves in second place to those who understand language and culture to a degree we never will.  
  • Conversely, we would be negligent in fulfilling our part in Jesus’ mission if we took a “take-care-of-your-own” approach and simply delegated mission in every country to local people. This image forces us to consider the crash of ripples coming together in the interplay between those who provide funds or staff and those who spend the budget.
  • We would be missing Jesus’ intent if we didn’t see the value that immigrant missionaries in our country could bring to help us reach our nation.
  • If you think of the conceptual meaning of “Samaria,” which might be a group with historical tensions with our own, it’s worthwhile asking who considers us their “Samaria.” Other parts of the Church might be able to help break down those barriers and even help heal the rifts.

Ultimately, this metaphor asks who we should partner with to accomplish the mission for any location we feel drawn to or called to. Rather than working alone to impact our city, who else has a passion to reach our neighbourhood, city or province? Could we be the catalyst that makes their ministry effective?

For instance, can you imagine the power of the overlapping circles working together to reach Canada? What if the Church in Montreal or in Eeyou Istchee (a First Nations community in northern Quebec) partnered with a local Ottawa church to reach our nation’s capital? What would have to happen to enable that kind of remarkable inter-circle ministry? Who or what would stand in the way of such a partnership?

I know I’m only beginning to scratch the surface of the implications for this way of thinking. What other applications do you see?

Acts 1:8 Series