The Salty Peanut Gallery

As a worship pastor I’m constantly on the look out for raw talent that needs a little encouragement, those diamonds in the rough that just need a little coaxing in the right direction to bring out that natural ability yet unrealized. Looking back over the years it’s been a pleasure to see the various individuals who’ve started out timid, inexperienced and self-effacing, but with a nudge in the right direction blossomed into truly gifted musicians. Of course the down side is there’s always the danger of creating a monster. A little encouragement goes a long way. Too much and you may have created a prima donna.

It’s hard sometimes for people who minister through the performing arts to find a happy medium between stage fright and narcissism. For some people the basis for their self-worth can become dependent on how well they’re received by an audience. I’ve found this particularly true even among many professional musicians. Pastors can even find themselves getting sucked into this trap.

When I was younger I used to go through a sort of mental gymnastics before getting up to perform. A battle would ensue inside my head over pride. It was as if I had a little angel perched on one shoulder whispering in one ear, “All for Jesus! All for God’s glory!” and a devil perched on the other shoulder whispering, “This is gonna be good! Boy are people gonna love this!” Sometimes I could hardly sing for being so distracted.

Then in college I heard a statement once that helped me lay all that to rest. I remember going to see the movie “Chariots of Fire”, a 1981 British film that tells the true story of two athletes in the 1924 Olympics. Eric Liddell was a devout Scottish Christian who ran track for the glory of God. Harold Abrahams was an English Jew who ran track to overcome racial prejudice. In the film there was a quote I’ll never forget. Eric Liddell was asked the question, “Why do you run?” His answer was profound. “I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.” Wow! I thought to myself, “That’s it! That’s why I sing.” From that moment on I realized that I don’t ever have to be ashamed of wanting people to enjoy my performance or being proud of the way I sing. God made me for a purpose, but He also made me with a voice. And when I sing I feel His pleasure! What could be better than that? It was such a blessing to be able to put that battle to rest once and for all.

Thirty years later I find myself struggling with another battle. Ever see the movie “City Slickers”? Billy Crystal plays a middle aged man going through a midlife crisis on his birthday. He pretty much sums it up this way:

Have you ever had that feeling that this is the best I’m ever gonna do, this is the best I’m ever gonna feel… and it ain’t that great?

You know I really truly believe that so many of the foolish things that pastors do in their ministries is because of this reality right here, this feeling of desperation, this sense of being trapped with no way out. Some men respond by leaving their churches for greener pastures. Others get all caught up in the hottest new church growth fads or gimmicks. You wake up one morning and look around and you say to yourself, “Is this all there is? Is this as good as it gets?”

I know this because I’ve spent a lot of time asking myself the same question. Then one day it dawned on me. All that any of us really has to offer is loaves and fishes. No matter how good we think we are, no matter how insignificant, all anyone really has to offer in this life is loaves and fishes.

You remember the Sunday school lesson about the boy who gave his lunch away? We sometimes refer to it as “The Feeding of the Five Thousand”. It’s recorded in all four of the gospels, but John’s account makes mention of a lad who was willing to give what little he had.

A large crowd of people had followed Jesus and the disciples to the top of a mountain and had begun to gather all around. As the crowd approached a discussion arose over how they might feed such a host of people. Peter’s brother, Andrew, spoke up. “There’s a young boy here with five barley loaves and two fishes. But what good is that with this huge crowd?”

And you know the rest. Jesus took the little boy’s lunch broke it, blessed it, gave to the disciples and they distributed it. When the people had eaten their fill they gathered up the leftovers and there were twelve baskets full, just enough for the disciples.

That’s what I think of whenever I get up to lead worship or teach a Sunday school class or direct a concert. I think of a little boy who has nothing to give but five barley biscuits and two small fish. Did the little boy feed the five thousand? Certainly not! And neither can we. Did Jesus need the little boy in order to accomplish His Kingdom work? Of course not. And by the way he doesn’t need you or me either. But wasn’t it nice of Jesus to let a seemingly insignificant child participate in some small way in accomplishing something miraculous? And isn’t it nice of Jesus to do the same for you and me.

So the next time you’re feeling too big for your britches or the next time you’re feeling inadequate or insignificant just think of the little boy. Whether you’re a mega church pastor or a children’s Sunday school teacher, all any of us really has to offer the Lord is loaves and fishes. But offer them anyway. He likes for you to become involved with Him in the things that He’s doing.

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” – Matthew 5:43

NFL referee Bill Leavy is asking the Seattle Seahawks and their fans for forgiveness. Speaking candidly after four and a half years to Seattle reporters about his officiating performance during the bitter Super Bowl XL loss to the Pittsburgh Steelers, he acknowledged the mistakes he made during the game. “I kicked two calls in the fourth quarter and I impacted the game,” Leavy told Seattle-area media Friday. “I will go to my grave wishing I’d been better.” He went on to say, “I know that I did my best at that time, but it wasn’t good enough.”

“I think all of the officials we have in the NFL are stand-up guys, and Leavy is no different,” Seahawks quarterback Matt Hasselbeck said. “It’s a game. It’s not a perfect science. There’s a lot of human involvement there.

“I played some games that I remember because I felt like I did a good job and I played some games where I had some regrets. That goes for any sport, any player. I’m sure coaching is no different, and in that same way I’m sure officiating is the same thing.”

When asked if he’d be willing to accept Leavy’s apology, Hasselbeck, a devout Christian, told reporters, “I’m still a little upset about losing my high school state championship game. There are just some games you’re never going to forget. Put it on the list.”

It’s hard sometimes even for believers to forgive and forget. I recently came across a list that I had made some fifteen years ago of hurts, resentments or grudges in which I needed to find freedom. There were twenty-four names on that list of people who for one reason or another had caused me pain. Twenty-four people who I was struggling to forgive. I remembered at the time having sort of a “come to Jesus” moment in which I prayed and gave every one of those names to the Lord and asked God to help me love those people. And the funny thing is fifteen years later I find myself struggling to even remember who many of those people were and what they had done to hurt me. God had answered my prayers.

I say, “many of those people,” but unfortunately not all. Looking back on that list I still see one name that continues to haunt me. One name that fifteen years later is now joined by other new names of different people from which I’ve suffered hurt. And I find myself once again needing God’s grace to be able to forgive.

Forgiveness is not an easy thing to do. Oh it’s one thing to forgive someone for one indiscretion or injustice, for harsh words said in the heat of a moment or a careless action that brings you pain. But what about those people that continue to hurt you year after painful year with no signs of remorse and no willingness to acknowledge their offenses? What are we to do with them?

Oh, we could fight back. We could practice hurling zingers at them, waiting for just the right occasion. We could give them a piece of our mind, though it’s been my experience that most of us can’t spare a bit. We could confront them and demand an apology. We could shun them. We could put up a wall so that they’ll never be able to hurt us again. But none of that ever really takes away the hurt, does it?

Or we can learn to love them.

“But Lord, I don’t want to love them! I want them to get what’s coming to them! I want them to pay for what they’ve done to me! I want the heavens to open up and fire and brimstone to fall out of the sky! I want justice to be served!”

No, I need God’s grace to be able to love them. See, it’s real easy to love the nice people in this world. We don’t need to be told how to do that. It just sort of comes naturally. But Jesus said, “Love your enemies.” That requires a lot more effort, doesn’t it?

“But how, Lord? How do I get past this? How can I just overlook what they’ve done?”

Jesus said, “Pray for those who persecute you.” We generally think of persecution coming from nonbelievers. But Christians can very often times be the source of great trouble in our lives. And the first step toward finding healing in those relationships and freedom from resentment is prayer. As we begin to pray for those individuals who have hurt us, the Lord forms a bond between us. As we pray, our hearts become united with God’s heart as He opens our spiritual eyes to their needs. When the needs of others begin to burden our hearts the way they burden God’s heart, we begin to love.

“Dear Lord, I need so desperately to be freed from these bitter resentments that I continue to carry. I ask your blessing on my persecutors. Would you meet them where they are right now and pour out your mercy? Please, burden my heart with their needs and help me learn to love them. Amen.”