The Seed of Hope

...being a Disciple.

Okay, I’m gonna share a couple of things with you that I learned as I was preparing to write this post. Since I was a child I’ve heard about apostles and disciples. I always associated both with Jesus’ “inner circle”, as in the twelve that he hand-picked to serve him. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why you would need two different terms to describe the same people. Was there a difference?   

To begin with, just what is an apostle? The term apostle comes from the Greek word apostollos, which means “one sent forth.” Quite simply put, and as it applies to faith, an apostle was someone appointed by Jesus to spread and teach the gospel.

When morning came, he called his disciples to him, and chose twelve of them, whom he also designated apostles: Luke 6:13 NIV

Here’s a bit of apostle trivia: There were actually fourteen men that were appointed to be apostles. Matthias was chosen to be an apostle to replace Judas Iscariot, and Paul was appointed by God to be an apostle to the Gentiles.

What’s a disciple? The term disciple has its origins in the Greek word mathetes, which means a “learner or pupil.” Loosely defined, a disciple is one who subscribes to a certain belief or doctrine. In today’s society, and especially as it applies to this post, the term disciple is used to describe a follower of Christ. I feel that it’s worth mentioning here that in a military analogy, a disciple is a “foot soldier.” Disciples aren’t appointed; they enlist. They choose to be soldiers. (I’ll explain the significance of this as it pertains to me in a bit.)

So Jesus’ twelve were actually both disciples and apostles, in that order. Initially, they chose to be followers of Christ while he was here. After his death and resurrection, they were sent forth to spread and teach the message of Jesus.

“Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” Matthew 28:19-20

Oregon

A few years ago I flew out to Portland, Oregon to attend a three day spiritual retreat that I’d heard about from a friend. This came not long after my spiritual awakening, and I’ll be honest with you in saying that my life had undergone such a change that I was reeling from the experience. Going through a complete transformation of who I was, what I was, what I did, and most importantly discovering a new relationship with God, had shifted my world slightly off of its axis. I wasn’t afraid as much as I was, quite simply, confused.

Be that as it may, the main reason for attending the retreat was that I was hungry for more of God. I was going to church every Sunday, spending time in The Word every morning, praying, and sharing my heart for God with anyone who’d listen.

But that wasn’t enough! Something was missing; something that I was supposed to know that would give me some clarity and some peace. For whatever reason, I believed that I’d find that something in Oregon.

I came away from the retreat with a few revelations, but the first one, and perhaps the most important one, occurred on the second day I was there…

What I saw…

Having arrived at the retreat center the previous afternoon, and absolutely filled with anticipation, I rolled out of bed at 5:00 A.M. and headed for the chapel and small fellowship hall. Upon entering the still dark hall, I quickly realized that I was the first to arrive.

Off to the left of the room, twenty-five or so chairs had been arranged in a circle facing one another. In the center of the circle was a small table upon which sat a single white candle that was burning. Softly playing in the background was a recording of monks chanting to music, which is something that I’d heard when visiting a monastery many years ago as a child.   

I was immediately drawn to one of the chairs. Taking a seat, I closed my eyes and began praying, and as is so often the case, my prayers eventually gave way to a deep state of concentration, or meditation.

At some point during this meditation I saw myself walking alongside a man in a forest. The forest wasn’t overgrown to the point that walking through it was a challenge. In fact, the floor was blanketed with pine needles, so much so that there was no vegetation other than the trees through which we were walking.

As we were rounding a huge boulder that was in the middle of this forest, I became aware of the fact that the man I was walking with was Jesus. We were walking side by side, in step with one another, and we were dressed in long, flowing robes. I never saw his face, but I didn’t have to; I knew it was him. I don’t know how long we had been together. It seemed as if it was only a matter of seconds, but it was long enough for me to hear him say one thing: “You’re on the right path. Go and do this.”   

When I opened my eyes, which were full of tears, I immediately knew what I had flown to Oregon to discover:

I am a disciple of Jesus. I choose to be a follower, and I go out and spread the news of him and his teachings. I don’t quote scripture that often, not only because I don’t know the Bible from front to back, but because I walk it out every day. I once read something that said Your life may be the only Bible a person ever reads. How true. I was not appointed and sent out. I volunteered.

Since then…

I told Jackie about my experience as soon as I returned to Birmingham. In the years that have passed since then, I’ve only shared it with a handful of people. I mean, you can’t just walk up to a group of people and say “Hey, I was walkin’ with Jesus in Oregon a couple of years ago!” But then again, I guess that’s what I’m doing right now, isn’t it? J

One of the people that I did share my experience with was a minister here in Birmingham. As I recounted my experience to her, she sat up straight in her chair and her eyes grew wide with excitement as she proclaimed, “Oh my! You were walking with Jesus dressed in white robes! That’s a sign of purity, and an anointing, and”

“Wait!” I countered, attempting to cut her off mid-sentence. “Wait!” I said again, this time a little more forcefully, as she continued rattling off her list of what my white robe signified. As she abruptly stopped talking and shot me a puzzled look, I continued. “I’m sorry, but I never said that I was wearing a white robe. It was red. And it wasn’t vibrant in color, but on the contrary, a bit faded, and very ordinary.”

“Oh, I see” she replied as she settled back down in her chair, looking as if I’d just let the air out of her balloon.

Sensing her disappointment, and reaching for something, anything, to make her feel better, I continued, “But couldn’t an ordinary, faded, red robe signify that the most common of men are worthy of being Disciples of Christ?”

The smile returned with a look of enlightenment as she replied, “Well, yes. Yes it could mean that every man, any man, is worthy of being a disciple!”

How about you?

Are you a follower of Christ? Do you feel as if you could do more for, or should do more to tell people about Jesus, but don’t because you don’t feel that you’re worthy enough, or smart enough, or special enough, or because of what people may think of you?

I challenge you to do something about it, to get beyond yourself and the self-imposed limitations that you’ve taken on because of the reasons that I just mentioned. I challenge you to step up and be, not just a follower of Christ, but one of his disciples. Step up to the challenge of making disciples of all nations, and begin with the next person that you encounter. I promise you that you won’t regret it.

One final thought…

I recall the day in August of 2006 when I had a tattoo of a self-designed cross put on my shoulder. Later that evening, I didn’t declare myself to be a follower, or warrior, or messenger of Christ. I vowed to be a soldier of Christ, to do his bidding, and to share his message with any that would listen. Perhaps that was the day that I became one of his disciples.   

...just for the asking.

What if I told you that love, patience, self-control, wisdom, and knowledge were not only available, but easily attainable for you, just for the asking?

Seriously, all you have to do is ask. It’s not a gimmick, or something taken from one of the hundreds of self-improvement books that line the shelves of bookstores or offered on the Internet.

The key is found in one book; the world’s best-selling book of all time. One book…the book of all books. The Bible.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Galatians 5:22-23 NIV

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but the same God works all of them in all men.

Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. To one there is given through the Spirit the message of wisdom, to another the message of knowledge by the means of the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by that one Spirit, to another miraculous powers, to another prophecy, to another distinguishing between spirits, to another speaking in different kinds of tongues, and to still another the interpretation of tongues. All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he gives them to each one, just as he determines. 1 Corinthians 12:4-11 NIV

As is often the case, I want to tell you a story; a God Story. And as per usual, it’s one of my stories, based on first-hand experience. This story is about “religion”, fear, shame, divorce, marriage, and the Holy Spirit…

The fall of 1989

I was thirty-seven years old, the father of two sons from a previous marriage that ended in divorce, and six months into being married to my second (and current) wife, Jackie. I was excited about our future and grateful for her presence in my life. I felt as if I’d been given a second chance at love and happiness.

Curiously enough, in the midst of this happiness, I felt alone. God was missing. Oh we were still going to church most every Sunday, but it certainly wasn’t the church that I used to attend. In fact, it wasn’t even the same denomination of church; there was just too much shame and guilt on my heart from my divorce to do that.  Still, I felt estranged from God. Why?

Looking back on it now, I realize that there were two factors pulling me in opposite directions.

·         Because of the church that I was raised in, I was ashamed for having gotten a divorce, regardless of the circumstances. In my heart, I didn’t feel as if I was worthy of being in “God’s House.”

·         Because of what was instilled in me (obligation and fear, but curiously not love for God) in that same church, I wouldn’t let myself not attend church. I was gonna be in church, even if it was different than the one I was accustomed to.

Consequently, I began to seek God, not in church on Sundays, but in the privacy of our home or in my office every day. Sometimes, seeking God came in the form of prayer.  At other times, I would spend several minutes, and sometimes hours in deep reflection and meditation.

Wow…

One morning I was in the office in our salon. The door was closed, the lights were off, and I was just sitting there thinking about the state of my life and my relationship with God. I was also reflecting on a book that a friend had given me about improving my mental state of being. One chapter in the book described an exercise in which you think of good things while inhaling through your nose. After holding your breath for a few seconds you slowly exhale through your mouth, while simultaneously dispelling any negative thoughts and emotions from your mind. It was in essence an “in with the good, and out with the bad” kind of thing.

Apparently, and unbeknownst to me, what I’d read in the book worked its way into my prayers and meditation. As I prayed I began inhaling those things that were most absent in my mind: peace, strength, wisdom, and clarity. Conversely, I exhaled chaos, weakness, ignorance, and indecision.

The results were impactful and almost immediate! I was being filled with everything that I was seeking. I couldn’t wait to find a window of time during the day, regardless of how small it was, to sit in the dark and breathe in the goodness. It was changing who I was, what I was, and the manner in which I approached life. Curiously enough, I never shared what was going on with anyone; not even Jackie. I didn’t know why I chose not to, but I just didn’t.

This went on for weeks. I was growing stronger and more confident. To borrow a popular phrase from the younger people in my church, “I had my swag on!” What was going on in me was, well, it was beyond my comprehension. I had a hard time believing that it was as simple as breathing in and out.

And then I stopped…

I didn’t do the breathing exercise any more. I just went back to praying. And I lost my swag. Oh, I wanted to sit in that dark room and close my eyes and breathe in all that good stuff, but I didn’t, because I was ridden with guilt and fear.

You see, at the time I didn’t realize that what I was doing was asking for and receiving the breath of God, the Holy Spirit. Oh, I had been taught about the Holy Spirit in the fourth or fifth grade, and I’d actually been a participant in a religious ritual that would allow me to receive Him. (See The Gift of The Holy Spirit 4/19/2009) But as that young boy, I didn’t feel as though I had received anything , because, I don’t know, because my mind wasn’t open enough, or because it just wasn’t my time. Perhaps it was part of God’s plan for me to receive the Holy Spirit as an adult, not as a child.

Fast forward twenty-eight years to a thirty-seven year old man, stumbling upon the Holy Spirit and being filled with His gifts, only to turn and run out of misplaced fear. I didn’t know that it was the Holy Spirit; didn’t know that He was that strong, that His mere presence could change a man. To make matters worse, I didn’t know that His presence is always there, just for the asking.

Fast forward yet another twenty years, when in March of 2009, at a men’s retreat, I said a prayer asking to receive the Holy Spirit. I invited Him in, and just as a young boy when I had said a prayer, I didn’t feel anything immediately. That was then, but…

this is now.

Today, just like that period of time when I was thirty-seven, I find that quiet place and perform that breathing exercise. This time, I know that it’s the Holy Spirit. This time, I’m not afraid. This time, I not only invite Him in, but turn Him loose to work in and through me to serve the kingdom; God’s Kingdom. You know what? He always shows up. Always.

Try it.

If you’re not seeking the Holy Spirit daily, would you do me a favor? For the next twenty-one days would you please try it? Clear your mind of any preconceived notions or fears that you may have because of what you’ve been told or what you may have learned in church. Lose any negative conclusions that you’ve come to on your own. Think about it this way: If you believe in the Trinity, as in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, then what you’re actually doing is inviting GOD in. Get it? Don’t be afraid.

For starters, take another look at Galatians 5:22-23 at the top of this post. The fruit of the Holy Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. You gonna tell me that you don’t need an extra dose of all of the above? Really?

Some of you may have a hard time wrapping your minds around the gifts of the Holy Spirit, as written in 1 Corinthians, and that’s okay. Really. Again, all I’m asking you to do is invite Him in.

Breathe in the Holy Spirit and all that He has to offer you…love, joy, peace, etc. As you inhale, believe that you’re being filled by them. Then exhale slowly, mentally releasing the opposite of those fruits.

Twenty-one straight days. Without fail. You’ll be amazed by His presence and by the way that you feel because of it. And you’ll shake your head in disbelief as you realize that He was there all along and available to you, and that a new way of life was there for you, just for the asking.

Coming Full Circle

A few weeks ago, in a post titled A Natural Fit, I made mention of the things that I get to do in the realm of serving God and serving people. During the past few years God has opened doors for me to “get to” reach out to people through this site, our church, our business, and most recently, on the radio.

I have been, and remain, so grateful for all of those opportunities, and humbled that God would choose to use me to serve Him, in spite of who I was and what I may have done in the past. But I have to tell you that it took me a long time wrap my mind around the fact that, for whatever reason, God had decided to use me in any way to further His Kingdom.

It’s “fess-up” time.

Looking back on that period of time during late 2006 and most of 2007, I can see that I was afraid that God might wake up and realize that He had made a mistake, that He’d meant to tap Sam Smith on the shoulder, and not Sam Maniscalco! Seriously, I believed that it was something that wasn’t gonna last. In my mind, I was gonna be like a shooting star; brightly shining for a brief time, and then gone. Poof!

My fears lead me to do two things…

The first thing, and in my opinion the worst thing, was the fact that back then when I said “I get to do”, a small part of it was a prideful thing, more like a child saying “Hey guys, look at what I get to do! I’m somebody! I count!”

Kind of prideful, wouldn’t you say? Ego driven? Yes, to some degree. Oh, my intentions to help others and to share the news of what God had done in my life were sincere, but there was definitely a “me” thing going on too.

Not to defend my actions, but there was a reason behind them. You see, for years, in my mind, no one had ever listened. Not as a child, whose parents were always working. Not as a confused teenager, who was searching for direction. Not as a twenty-six year old father of two, in debt and in a very volatile relationship. Not as a thirty-seven year old man, recently remarried to an amazing lady and not-so-proud owner of a business that he neither wanted to own nor knew anything about. It seemed to me that no one had listened, that no one was listening, and that no one was going to listen; not even God.

When I had my spiritual awakening in August of 2006 I quickly recognized that God had been listening to me all along. The problem was that I’d never listened to Him. Hmm…

Not long after that I had this inexplicable feeling, almost a knowing, if you will, that God was gonna use me in some way. I didn’t have the foggiest notion of why, or better yet how, He was going to do it. I just believed that He would.

Almost immediately, I wrote a petition for humility and taped it on our bathroom mirror, right next to The Prayer of Jabez 1 Chronicles 4:10, which I had been saying every morning for several weeks. I believe that I’ve shared this petition with you before, but I’m going to do it once more. (I believe that we can never be too humble.)

                God grant me the ability to be all that I desire to be.

                God give me the humility to remain the man I am today.

Again, I began offering this petition to God every day. I guess it took a while for my petition to be answered; today, humility is my constant companion. Still, I recite it every morning because I know that pride has a way of sneaking in the back door.

Secondly, I went on a mission to do everything that I could before God woke up to His mistake!

Not long after my awakening, I began making business presentations for Redken (the hair care company) in various cities around the country. I never turned down an invitation to speak. I can’t tell you how many weekends I gave up spending time with Jackie (my wife) at our lake house to share what was on my heart with people everywhere else. When I received a call or an e-mail to be in Atlanta, or Chicago, or Los Angeles, or New Orleans, or wherever, I was gone. Anything else could wait until I got back. God might wake up.

The same could be said for my actions in our salon. Whenever I had the opportunity to share our story with one of our guests, or listen to what was on their heart, for the next fifteen or twenty minutes they became the focal point of my life. Our business was momentarily put on the back burner. God might wake up.

When Jackie and I began attending Church of The Highlands in 2009, we dove in head- first. Within the first eighteen months we had hosted a small bible study/fellowship in our home, had volunteered to host two ministry students in our home, and had become a part of a small team that was launching a new church campus nearby. I volunteered for pretty much any and everything. I even got baptized again. God might wake up.

When The Seed of Hope was launched in November of 2008, I made a commitment to send a post out every week. Not just every week, but by 7:00 every Monday morning. The first time that I missed a deadline, not through any fault of my own, but computer issues, I broke out in a cold sweat! It was two years before I actually missed a week, and that was because I was spiritually depleted from spending a lot of time listening to the hearts of people in the prayer room in our salon. I had to have time to heal my own heart, and I took a week to do so. No more than that; God might wake up.

This trend, of pushing and pushing and pushing continued until one evening just a couple of months ago. Brooke, a second year ministry student from Minneapolis, had been living in our home since last August. Brooke would push herself as a leader, as a minister to others, and as an example of God’s shining light. Her desire is to be the hands and feet of Jesus here on earth. I love that girl and her heart for Jesus.

I was constantly encouraging Brooke to slow down, to take time to rest, and to take what seemed to be the weight of the world off of her shoulders. I urged her that she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, and especially not to God. He knew what was in her heart.    

It was during one of those admonishments to Brooke that it hit me like a lead balloon; I was as bad as Brooke, if not worse. I realized, for the first time in several years, that I don’t have to prove anything to anyone, and especially not to God. He knows what’s in my heart; that I love Him above all else, that I dedicate my life to Him daily, and that I live to serve Him. And I don’t have to worry that He’s gonna wake up because He never went to sleep.

I didn’t write a post for three weeks; not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because I didn’t have to say it.

Full circle

God presence in my heart has changed me so much in the last couple years. Now, when I say that I “get to” do something, it is born, not from ego or the pride of what I get to do, but from an overwhelming humility that God allows me to do it.

I “get to” write about Him. I “get to” serve in our church. I “get to” lead small groups, and I “get to” listen to hearts of others, and I “get to” pray for people. I “get to” be a servant of an amazing God. I “get to.” At times, it’s still hard for me to believe.

I’m going to offer you a brief excerpt from A Natural Fit…

I’m reminded of a message that was given by Joshua Canizaro, yet another pastor at Church of Highlands. The gist of his message was this:

There are things in life that we’ve got to do. We’ve got to have a job. We’ve got to pay the bills. We’ve got to pay taxes, and buy groceries, and pay tuition. You get the message, right? These are things that we’ve got to do.

Then there are those things that we get to do. They’re things that we volunteer to do, because they’re in our hearts, and because doing them brings us joy.

This is where, in an odd twist, everything comes full circle…

Those things I mentioned that I “get to do” for God and for people, because I choose to? Well, when you get right down to it, there’s really no choice at all.

I’ve got to do them. All those things…writing, listening, sharing, praying, leading, and mentoring, fill me with God’s presence. They complete the circle of my life that includes my wife, my family, my business, and my church.

One morning a couple of weeks ago, just before Brooke went back home for the summer, she, Jackie, and I were having a conversation about this very subject.

Why do we feel as though we’ve “got to do” the things that we “get to do”?

After several futile attempts by Brooke and me to come up with an answer that felt “right”, Jackie looked at both of and said, “That’s easy. It’s in your DNA!”

Enough said.