Hands up if you have dimples

I'm a creature of habit which means I like my routines. My Sunday morning usually consists of a bit of a lie in while watching three shows on telly. I know...telly in the bedroom is BAD and no self-respecting Christian should have one within 7 metres of the bed but it was Beloved's idea and I've grown accustomed to sharing my lie in with Chris Nichol on a Sunday morning. First up is "Tagata Pacifica", most of the news is local so it keeps me in the loop. Next it's Chris with his warm smile, horrendous shirt and rollicking old hymns. I sure do miss singing hymns in church so I get my fix on a Sunday morning (therefore, making it okay for a Christian to have a telly in the bedroom). Finally there's "Attitude", an inspiring show about New Zealanders overcoming disabilities.  Today we were visiting a different church for Beloved's grandson's Dedication service. Instead of the more respectable time of 10am, the service was to start at 9 O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING!! That's a bit of a shock to the system of a habitual keeper of routines.

So I missed the hymns and inspiring kiwis but I just managed to catch an interesting item on Tagata Pacifica about a Bikie Gang that goes around the place spreading good news. The guys on this thing looked really mean and TOUGH!

You're scared. I can tell!

Seriously, I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of any of these people. I nearly broke with tradition and thought about turning the telly off but the urge to keep to routine won out. The heavily tattooed guy who started the gang was being interviewed and his story wasn't a pretty one. He'd previously been a head honcho in some outfit called "Headhunters" - that didn't sound too friendly. He and his wife were well acquainted with Her Majesty's Hotel. When the interviewer asked him what turned his life around, he said that his six year old daughter had started to go to a church. I guess some nice kid in her class was probably taking her along to Sunday School. So this hulk of a man told his wife that he didn't want his kid going to some kind of cult and wanted to see what was going on. He went. He liked what he saw and heard. He allowed his life to be changed...and now he's rounded up others to go about the place spreading the news of hope and redemption.

A few blokes were interviewed and I found their stories exciting and moving. I was starting to get "Ministry Envy". How cool to be traveling around the countryside on noisy Harleys and changing lives. I thought about my puny little effort in going to the Sunday School room a couple of times each month. I've been doing it for years and I haven't felt that I've done anything spectacular. I'm certainly not especially brilliant at what I do during the class. Some days I probably just fumble through it, albeit with good intentions.

Here's the thing. *I* don't necessarily do anything spectacular, but maybe by being available the Holy Spirit can. In the case of the rough biker guy, there must have been someone going to the Sunday School room and teaching his little girl a few things about Jesus. It might not have felt like much was going on at the time for the teacher, and they may never have even known that her mum and dad had visited church one day to sort them out if they were teaching something they didn't like, but it looks to me like they made a heck of a difference in the big scheme of things.

Nobody ever said that ministry was without risk.

I've said it before, I think Slimy Legs hates it when children make friends with Jesus. He hates that he can't get his hooks into them and drag them down that slippery slope that sends so many young people into a muddy pit at the bottom. To be found by Jesus early in life - that's special. And what a difference it can make to the overall tapestry of God's picture.

One little girl went to Sunday School. And now the whole country is hearing about what Jesus did for her dad and all his mates.

So I reckon, no matter how puny anyone's effort might seem, our Majestical Bestie can pick it up and run with it. He can turn our measly "widow's mite" into magnificent things for His Kingdom. It might not be a healing ministry or preaching at a gargantuan revival, but just being you and doing what you do - baking a cake or just sharing your dimpled smile with someone who needed it - has value which we should never underestimate. Your offering is a piece of gold to God and He will use it to make something beautiful - even if you don't ever find out about it this side of Heaven.

I'm Armed and Dangerous

I'm not terribly efficient at putting on my Ephesians 6 Armour each day. Some mornings it's all I can do to wear matching shoes. Mind you, I always manage to put on my makeup, right through to the essential blue eyeliner (reminiscent of Princess Di). But I suppose that while I'm applying my wrinkle-busting foundation it probably wouldn't hurt to throw on a bit of chainmail every now and then.

This week in Church our Pastor, MK, was talking about the Holy Spirit. I don't get to be in church very often as I hang out with the kids in Sunday School most weeks, which tends to suit someone who refuses to grow up and be mature. So it was a rare treat to be sitting in Church actually listening to a sermon. Well...I was trying to listen. It's hard not to let my mind wander and start asking God why Pastors look about 12 years old these days. Since when did Pastors start getting younger than me? Anyway, I was actually paying attention to MK's talk and found it pretty interesting. He was talking about Pentecost, Baptism of the Holy Spirit, Spiritual Gifts and all that profoundly theological stuff. At the end of the Message he gave a subtle altar call for those wanting to be better equipped for God's work. Normally I lay low for these altar calls but this time I found myself sprinting up to the front of the church before I'd even realized that my bum was off the pew.

I'd been thinking about how it is in Sunday School. Occasionally great things can happen with our youngsters down in that room (check out God hears little voices), yet other times things can just fall into a slightly organized chaos. Last week I'd had to have some pretty stern words with a couple of little lambs and I didn't like it one bit. So I figured, the Holy Spirit is the best back up I can have. So up to the front I went. I don't really remember even getting there but I was determined not to fall down in a heap on the floor like those folk on the telly evangelist shows. God ignored that part. Oh well, I did want to "lay low". Thank goodness for black leggings, that's what I say.

So going up the front and asking to be prepared and equipped for battle was quite a cool experience. But be careful what you ask for. If you're getting ready to do battle fore the Kingdom, you can pretty much guarantee that there's someone wanting to pick a fight. I had a bit of a low day on Monday. I was also getting some vivid dreams and broken sleep. The first two dreams definitely felt like God wanted to tell me something and they had a similar theme. The third night the dream was different but was so vivid and uncomfortable that I told Beloved about it. I knew what it was and wanted to know what he thought of it. He interrupted my description: "You're being spiritually attacked!" COOOOOOL!!! Beloved actually prayed for me there and then.

Meanwhile, I feel just a little bit special to be considered enough of a threat to the enemy. What's so important about little me that would get Hairy Legs concerned enough to give me a couple of rough days and a threatening dream? I'm only a Sunday School teacher for goodness sake. Maybe Hairy Legs doesn't like that "Little Box" song that I get the kids to sing that ends with the devil being put in a little black box before we BUST HIM UP (picture a room full of kids stomping and smashing the devil at the same time).

I enjoy hanging with the kids in Sunday School and have never really understood why more people don't take up the offer to help out. What hadn't occurred to me before is that Hairy Legs is really SCARED when Jesus reaches the hearts of children. I think Hairy Legs likes "playing" with kids. I think he wants to hang around them nice and early so that he can do all he can to mess up their lives before they start to enjoy themselves too much. He doesn't want them to know about God's abundant life and the Joy they can have in knowing Jesus. He'd much prefer to tempt our youngsters into a few of his unsavoury schemes that might cause them a little - or a lot - of harm.

Oooh yeah! I'm dangerous! Tomorrow morning when I apply my lippy, I might just remember to come over all Joan of Arc (with blue eyeliner) and pick up my sword of the Spirit before I head out the door.

God hears little voices

You know what? God likes kids. Maybe that's one of the reasons why I never want to grow up. That, and being able to lick ice cream out of the bottom of my bowl with my tongue. I was rostered on for Sunday School this morning and sadly my partner Z and I were just slightly lacking in preparation and practice. Kids pick up on that pretty quickly. I managed to blunder through the Welcome, the roll and the singing while Z hyped the kids up with some games. I also made it a priority to review the RULES with the kids about how to behave and not behave during their time with us. Actually, some of the kids have made up their own rules: No idioticity, No Retardedness (I find that one slightly non-PC), No Violence...they've come a long way from the "I answer hands not voices" rule.  Come to think of it, I'd much prefer to think of the rules as "Behaviour Guidelines". It sounds so much more child-friendly, don't you think?

One of the most terrifying "guidelines" is that after one official WARNING, if a child continues to misbehave, he or she "might be" unceremoniously marched up to the church and sat with their parents in front of the entire congregation so that the rest of the kids can enjoy the morning. Oh the embarrassment! If this were to happen twice in a term (and thankfully it never has) then the child might find that they need to bring a parent or caregiver with them to the lesson. This could get awkward for one or two of the kids, since their dad is the Pastor. That could be interesting. If the Pastor had to escort his child to Sunday School, then the entire congregation would need to escort the Pastor so that they can listen to the sermon. I'm not sure how we'd go with finding enough room on the mat for them all and I doubt very much that my 84 year old Mum would be able to get back up off the mat. Come to think of it, we DO need a few more adults in our Sunday School programme...

Today wasn't going too badly considering Z and I were just stumbling our way through the lesson. We had one little terror in there this morning and I'm afraid I was pushed to the point of issuing an actual WARNING. It didn't seem to me that today's lesson was having much of an impact on our kids and in the back of my mind I was blaming the lack of preparation. The irony is that the lesson was about being prepared to do God's work. But wait...all was not lost. I HAD prepared! Before the lesson I'd asked Z to pray with me and we gave the morning over to our Majestical Bestie. When the kids arrived and started bouncing on the mat, I got them to fold their arms and close their eyes, and ask Jesus to come and visit with us. So maybe something special was about to happen after all.

It did.

We wrapped the lesson up far too early and, trying to fill in the gap, I decided to sit the kids down in a circle and talk with them about the devastating earthquake in Christchurch. Suddenly it seemed that gates were opening as kids talked about their family and friends and how thankful they were that they weren't hurt, how scared they were for them, how sad they were for the people who have died. They wanted...needed to talk. I suggested we talk to God about it, which we did. Then of all people, my little friend who had given me so much trouble earlier in the morning, asked if we could please have a two-minute silence for the people who had been affected by this major tragedy. I was gob-smacked. Our entire country is doing just this on Tuesday - one week after the event - but he was adamant that he wanted to do it there and then. All the kids agreed. Part of me was skeptical about expecting 7 - 11 year olds to sit in complete silence for so long but we did it. They did it. During that time they prayed quietly. They thought about their families. They thought about people who had lost homes, jobs and even their lives. They did it, not because their Sunday School teacher asked them to, but because they wanted to quietly tell God what they were feeling.

It was a special moment and a privilege to be part of it. God can teach us a lot through his little ones - even the slightly naughty ones :-)