On My Soapbox about the "Dove Commercial"

Yesterday I intended to take my normal short visit to Facebook.  Usually I check my page, answer messages and look at recent items on the newsfeed.  That generally takes me about ten minutes.  People who know me know that if they want to be sure I’ll see something, they have to message or tag me.  I don’t want to spend too much time there.  I’d rather spend real time with real people.

Yesterday on my short visit, I saw a number of people posting a link to the “Dove Commercial,” the one where the artist compares peoples own description of themselves with someone else’s.  I decided to take the time to see it as it was obviously making an impression on some of my friends.  So I watched it and found it troubling, but I couldn’t put my thoughts into words immediately.  I needed time.

My first reaction when I saw it was “Why does it matter?”  Why does it matter what I think I look like?  Why does it matter what other people think I look like?  Does it make any difference to the way I live my life?  Shouldn’t I, as an adult, have gotten beyond the need for an affirmation of beauty?  Isn’t life much more than looks?  Are we, as a society, so self absorbed that our own physical beauty matters that much? 

Secondly, beautiful women are not just the ones with flawless skin, thin faces, and straight noses.  I know women whose radiance makes them stand out in a crowd.  Everyone who knows them tends to talk about how beautiful they are, but they do not fit a narrow standard of beauty.  There is an inner quality that shines through their eyes and demeanor that makes people take notice and call them beautiful.

Two of God's beautiful women

Third, beauty is so much more than physical appearance.  The most beautiful women I know are not those who would win a beauty pageant.  They are the ones who are daring and bold and whose beauty shines through actions more than well-placed makeup.  I would rather see a woman covered in mud helping to rescue victims after a flood than a beautifully dressed woman on a red carpet.  A woman willing to welcome the seventh child into an already busy home is more beautiful to me than a perfectly dressed one who walks out of a lawyer’s office in a power suit. 

When we read about the most amazing women of history, their physical appearance is not generally mentioned.  Was Florence Nightingale pretty?  What about Clara Barton, founder of the Red Cross?  Or Harriet Beecher Stowe or Harriet Tubman, who brought the plight of slaves into the forefront of American thinking?  Do you think Margaret Thatcher sat and worried about her physical appearance while she made decisions on behalf of her nation?  Does it really matter what any of them looked like?


God's beautiful women in Guatemala.



 Would Mary, the mother of Jesus, have been called beautiful by her peers? I have my doubts. What about Abigail, Ruth, Priscilla, or Dorcas? Yet all of these women are highlighted in Scripture, not for their looks, but for who they were.

For those of us who claim to be Christian, it should be very clear that the world’s standard of beauty is not ours.  God created each of us unique.  Since His hand of creativity is on each woman, all of us are beautiful in His eyes.  Would we say to a daisy, “You’re not pretty because you are not a rose!”  Of course not.  We need to be very careful before we lightly criticize the creative hand of God in our lives.  While we know genetics plays a part, it is still amazing the way God puts those genes together to create a uniquely beautiful person.

Are any of us alike?  Yet all of us were created by God.

So instead of celebrating our world’s standard of physical beauty, let’s celebrate the work of God evident in each others’ lives.  Let's clap each other on the back and celebrate obvious acts of kindness.  Let's rejoice when someone returns evil with good.  Let's encourage industry, generosity, joyfulness, and patience.  Let us stop commending each other on how beautiful we look and instead commend each other for how beautiful you ARE.  Let's turn our eyes away from Hollywood's standards and remember God's standards.  After all, He's the One who created beauty.  I think He should be the final judge.

A Small Slice of Latin America

Coming down a long driveway, a blue sign with white letters welcomed us to “Iglesia Bautista Sublime Gracia”.  We drove around the back of a long brick ranch house to where the other cars were parked under the scattered pines and oak trees.

Almost as soon as we’d parked and gotten out of the car, Ric and Beth Hurd arrived.  They are IPM missionaries who live in Georgia and whose ministry is to reach out to ethnic groups here in the U.S.  We waited for them to park and greeted them.  Charlie and Ric went to meet and pray with the pastor before the services began, and Beth and I went into the main building to find seats.  Our light complexions stood out in the sea of darker skin, so we introduced ourselves as we went.  “Buenos dias,” I greeted as we passed.

“Buenos dias,” they returned.

Inside the house, some of the walls had been removed to create an auditorium that could seat about a hundred people.  We’d been told that Sunday School would start at 9:30 and that Charlie would speak during Sunday School. 

Not long after 9:30, the service began.  We sang a few songs and the younger classes were dismissed.  Teenagers stayed with the adults.  Charlie spoke on “The Four Laws of Communication” from Ephesians 4, a lesson he’s taught throughout the world.  Translation was provided for him by another man who is a former missionary to Latin America. 

As Charlie spoke, it was clear to me that some of the young men in the room were fluent in English.  They laughed at Charlie’s jokes before they were translated and were listening for the accuracy of the translation.  So when “the first hour of Sunday School” was over, I spoke with them and said, “You could have been the translator.” 

“Oh, no,” they said.  “He did a much better job.”  I am hopeful, though, that at some point in the future one of them will take up that challenge when those skills are needed again.

We took a half-hour break out under a large tent where children and adults lined up for a snack.  Two young women were pouring “Atole de Avena” into Styrofoam cups.  Atole de Avena is a Mexican hot oatmeal drink, sweetened with honey and seasoned with cinnamon – a healthy way to keep everyone satisfied until they could eat lunch.

A half hour later, we were back in the auditorium for “the second hour of Sunday School”.  During this hour, the classes that were dismissed included teenagers, a singles class, and a new believers class in addition to the younger classes.  About forty people remained in the room, among them children and teens who could have gone to one of the other classes but chose to stay for “The Pastor’s Class”.  Attendance was taken by calling out a name and that person responded by getting up to say the day’s memory verse or by admitting that they hadn’t learned it.  Of course, this took quite a bit of time.  There were also those who were turning in their worksheets from their daily quiet times as the pastor was trying to encourage them to develop new habits.  The pastor then taught a lesson for the next half hour.

At 1:00 in the afternoon, all of the classes returned to the main auditorium where they sang “Happy birthday” to those who’d had birthdays during the week.  Among them was the pastor’s wife.  The people were reminded of Communion Service that night at 5:00 with the qualifier that it was only for baptized members of the church.  The day’s worship service would be at 6:00 p.m.  Then the Sunday school teachers led in a “Goodbye Song”. 

While we were gathering up our things, one of the women came and asked if we would join them for lunch.  Unknown to the pastor’s wife, the ladies of the church had planned for “dinner on the grounds” to celebrate her birthday.  We agreed to stay.

Another woman came and put her hand in mine.

“Juanita,” she said (in Spanish).  “My sister was named Juanita.  She died a few years ago, and I miss her.  I don’t know if she’s in heaven or not, so I’m so thankful to meet you.  Thank you for learning Spanish.  It’s been so hard for me to be here where no one understands me.  English is so hard to learn.”

My heart went out to her.  I know what it’s like to be in a foreign country where no one speaks your language.  I imagine that church is like a little slice of home to her.

We went outside, fully expecting to stand in line with the rest of the people, when we were told that our plates were waiting for us.  At the head table, next to the pastor’s family, were plates of steaming food: rice, beans, salad and carne guisado (stewed pork, in this case).  Delicious! 

During lunch, I found out that the pastor had five children and that their arrival in the US was “a long story.”  I listened to the shortened version, and then watched as the pastor’s wife teased the children that the very large cake was hers, and she was going to take it home.  But a few minutes later, she began to cut it up and divide it out among the guests.  A child brought me a plate, and it reminded me of the moist birthday cakes I’d had in Guatemala, many years ago.

The children waiting for a piece of cake.

One of the children asked the pastor’s wife if there was going to be a piñata.  Since she wasn’t in charge of the plans, she didn’t know.  But sure enough, a few minutes later one appeared.

With full stomachs and hearts full of praise for the work that God was doing there in Douglasville, GA, we took our leave.  The party was far from over, but we had an evening service to get to in another town.  As we left, excited children were gathering around a piñata, waiting for their turn to try to break it open.

As our car drove down the driveway, I sighed.  For a few hours, I could have believed I was in Latin America again.  Everyone spoke Spanish.  The food was deliciously Latino, and the people were delightfully Hispanic.  I could get used to this, I thought.  It was sort of like biting into a piece of cake and finding hidden flavor.  You were expecting a vanilla sponge cake and found ribbons of chocolate and coffee syrup thrown in.  I could definitely get used to this.  Here in the middle of Georgia I had found a little slice of Latin America.

God’s Sweet Voice

I love it when God speaks clearly.  It’s scary if it’s been too long since I’ve heard that clear voice of His.  Whether His voice speaks comfort, conviction, direction, or wisdom, I need to know He’s speaking clearly.  I want to know it’s His voice and not my own selfish desires directing the choices I’m making.

We went to Mississippi to participate in a missions conference.  There was wonderful fellowship with other missionaries and pastors.  The music and the speakers were tremendous.  But the best part of those three days was God’s clear voice speaking to my heart.

His Sweet Voice in Scripture

On Tuesday morning, I took Charlie to the conference and returned to the hotel room to read and pray.  I prayed about our deputation.  I prayed for Charlie and the contacts he was making.  I prayed about my ministry.  I asked, “Lord, what exactly is my role in this whole deputation process?”   I heard Him speak to my heart and say, “Read Ephesians 4:1.”

I opened my Bible and read,

I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called.

Wow!  Walk worthy of the vocation wherewith I am called.  That’s a tall order.  I have been called to be a wife to my dear husband, a missionary with IPM, a representative of the King of Kings, and a fellow traveller on my way to heaven with many other fellow travellers. 

“Okay,” I responded to the Lord.  “I get it.  I’m to walk in a way that is worthy of the calling on my life.  But HOW?  How am I supposed to fulfill such a tall order?

So I read on,

With all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love; endeavouring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. 

So it’s not so much WHAT I do as HOW I do it.  My role is to have an attitude of humility, meekness, patience, forgiveness and unity.  In my calling as a wife, those are necessary.  In my calling as a fellow missionary, those are necessary.  In my calling as a fellow Christian, those are necessary.  Whether I’m alone with Charlie or out in the public eye, I need these qualities.  When I relate to others, I need these.  When I’m tempted to get discouraged or complain, I need these.  I have been so focused on the WHAT, that I’d forgotten that God looks at the heart and sees everything based on that.  I need to develop His attitudes in me.

His Sweet Voice during Preaching

On Wednesday morning, I sat listening to the preacher talk about the need of the world to hear the gospel.  I cannot give you his three points because the Holy Spirit was using that time to speak deeply to my heart.  When the altar call came, I knew I needed to respond.  Yes, I could have responded in my seat, but it was important that I publicly acknowledge that God was working on me.  I went to the altar with deep sorrow and repentance. He convicted me of sin and reminded me once again of things that I had forgotten.  He helped me regain my focus on Him and on the need to stay focused on eternity. God is far more patient with me than I usually am with others.

His Sweet Voice in Consensus

When the conference was over, we loaded up our display and headed to the car.  Travelling down the road, I told Charlie of the Holy Spirit’s conviction and why I had gone forward.  He then told me that the Lord had addressed an area of need in his life too – the same one for which I had come under conviction.  We realized it was the Lord’s way of directing us as a couple  .It was like a light went on right in front of us directing us in the choice of a home base.

By speaking to us individually about the same thing, we walked away from the conference saying, “We really need to be part of a church that has soul winning as a major part of its makeup.”  It was suddenly so clear to me that I needed a church like that, and then I found out Charlie came to the same conclusion.  We knew God had spoken clear direction into our lives to help us find a home church.

I Need His Voice

We know God can use circumstances to guide as well, but it is the clear sweet voice of the Holy Spirit that I crave.  I need to hear HIm speak clearly in every aspect of my life.  As Moses said to the Lord,

“If thy presence go not with me, carry us not up hence.  For wherein shall it be known here that I and thy people have found grace in thy sight?  Is it not in that thou goest with us?”   

I agree.

Missions Conference Notes

Over the past few days, we have been participating in a missions conference.  The speakers were great.  Here are a few quotes that I was able to get written down.

From Dr. Joe Arthur I heard, "Little is much if God is in it, and God will get in it if you give Him what you’ve got."

I wrote down several quotes from Dr. Tommy Ashcraft, a missionary in Mexico.  Here are some of his:

Teens in Guatemala singing about taking the gospel to the world. 

The only dream a Christian has a right to dream is to take the gospel to a hidden corner of the mission field. 

The average church member only gives $2.00 a week to missions.  That won’t even buy a Happy Meal at McDonalds!  

You have not given sacrificially until you give something you will not be able to replace. 

We complain about waste in government, but if we use any dollar except to further the gospel, it is wasted. 

What right do we have to ask a missionary to change his lifestyle in order to go to the mission field if we are not willing to change our lifestyle to send them? 

Dr. Mark Smith said,

The person sitting in your seat is the one who needs to surrender. 

Our city is not unreachable. It is just unreached.  

I came away challenged, eager to share the gospel more and excited to be part of the work that God has left His people to do.  I am both humbled and amazed that I get to be part of something that actually changes people's lives!

Do not confuse obscure preaching with deep preaching

The basic thought expressed above has been percolating in my mind on and off for months. Today I read an opinion piece in the Bangor Daily News by Stephen M. Walt. He is a Harvard professor and has been writing for decades. His article on poor academic writing included the phrase "many academics tend to confuse incomprehensibility with profundity". Aha! He is right, in academic circles and in religious circles. I believe I have benefited by this principle. I have preached a sermon that poorly presented a theological truth and been praised as "deep".

As I transitioned from a preaching ministry into a teaching ministry I considered what lessons learned from my own failings could be communicated to my future students. This is one of them. Do not confuse obscure preaching with deep preaching. Our job as preachers is to make clear the truths of the Scriptures, not obscure them. I know there are times when emergencies preclude us preparing as well as we want to. I know there are times when the passage we have chosen does not yield its fruit in due season. I know there will be a broad spectrum of doctrinal understanding in our congregations. My point is do not let this become a routine event!

“So they read in the book in the law of God distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to understand the reading. And Nehemiah, which is the Tirshatha, and Ezra the priest the scribe, and the Levites that taught the people, said unto all the people, This day is holy unto the LORD your God; mourn not, nor weep. For all the people wept, when they heard the words of the law.” (Ne 8:8-9 AV)

Our job is to cause the people to understand the passage. Not always an easy task, but a needful one.