New Hope

Our prayer for our children has always been that God would draw them to Him at an early age. That said, we also didn’t want to coerce them into adopting our beliefs. When it comes to kids proclaiming their faith in Christ, sometimes it’s a real faith...and sometimes it’s a sweet, impressionable little one trying to say what she thinks an adult wants her to say. Lee and I don’t want our kids to ride on the coattails of our faith; that’s not how it works, anyway. Our desire has always been and continues to be that Jocelyn and Robbie know God intimately, understanding Christ as their Lord, Savior, and Treasure.

A few weeks ago, we had communion at our church. Jocelyn didn’t understand at first why she couldn’t take it. I explained that you have to believe that Jesus died for your sins, let Him be in charge of your life, and treasure Him as the best and greatest. She said, “But I do believe that.” And I said, “Well then, if all that’s true, then you can pray and tell Jesus that you accept Him as Savior and Lord and Treasure in your life.” Her response? “No, I don’t want to do that right now.”

Since then, we’ve had several conversations in which she asked lots of questions about sin, Jesus’ death, sovereignty (without using that word, mind you), and treasuring Christ. We had even more of those this week as we talked about our friends’ baby, Hope, who died (miscarriage) sometime in the last two weeks. Our friends found out she had died on Monday. (Though it was too early to know if the baby was a girl or boy, they chose the name Hope. You can read more about that here at their blog.)

Jocelyn knew “Aunt” Jenelle was pregnant, and she knew what that meant. When I told her that the baby had died, her eyes filled with tears and she cried, “But I really miss Aunt Jenelle’s baby!” I told her that the baby’s name is Hope and that she was in heaven now. Then, after a couple moments, Jocelyn smiled and said, “I think Baby New Hope is petting Shango and Heckler right now.” (Those are our cats who passed away earlier this year, and we live near a place called “New Hope” so that’s how she refers to our friends’ baby.) She added, “And she might be playing with Max too, but she might be scared of him because he’s kind of big.” (Max is the German shepherd that Lee’s sister Laurie and her husband Jay used to have.)

(Side note: She also offered to “be Uncle Derek’s girl for a while because he might be sad because his girl New Hope died.” She said she wanted to come home to us after that, because she would miss us, but that she could sleep on the top bunk of Baby Leiana’s bed until then. She also declared that Baby New Hope was in Jesus’ belly now because she hadn’t been born yet and was in Aunt Jenelle’s belly before she went to heaven. I asked her if boys have babies in their bellies, and she said, “No, but Jesus is special so if any boy could, He could.” It breaks. my. heart. to hear her take on it all. Pure preciousness.)

She continued to ask about heaven and Jesus and all that. On the way home from the church playground Friday, the song Jesus Loves the Little Children played from our Veggie Tales CD. One verse goes, “Jesus came to save the children, all the children of the world.” Jocelyn asked, “Why does Jesus have to save us if we’re not in trouble?”

Great question.

I explained that the requirement for heaven is perfection and asked her if she was perfect. She said, “No, I sin sometimes.” So, I explained, you can’t go to heaven because of your sin; but what did Jesus do? And we talked about Christ living a perfect life and dying on the cross for our sins, that because of Him we can go to heaven even when we deserve to go to hell. “What is hell?” she asked. I explained that everyone goes to heaven or hell when they die, and God isn’t in hell. She said, “I don’t want to go to hell.” I told her that she didn’t have to and that she can be with God in heaven forever after she dies if she believes that Jesus died for her sins, lets Him be in charge of her life, and treasures Him as the best and greatest. She once again said that she believed all that, just as she had during communion a few weeks ago. And this time she asked if we could talk to God about that in prayer. So we did. (Yes, in the car as we drove along – that’s not exactly where I imagined we would have that conversation, but neither Jocelyn nor God act according to my plans!)

For another kid, I might have wondered if her declaration of faith was coming from her heart or from her desire to say what I wanted. But since she’s my kid, I know the difference. (And anyone who knows Jocelyn knows that she does her own thing without concerning herself much with what anyone else wants her to do! That, of course, can be a good or bad thing, depending on the scenario.)

Afterward, I told her she was different, that God made her a new creation! And she just smiled and smiled (and I just wished I had my camera with me, which I didn't). And she announced that when she goes to heaven, she’s going to play with Heckler and Baby New Hope.

Will we continue to pray with her and teach her and point her to Him? Of course! There is still plenty of discipling to be done, and that would be true if she were 14 instead of 4. Do I question, though, whether or not her faith is genuine? No. Take, for example, the conversation she and I had in the car on the way home from church today: After we talked about heaven and Jesus some more, she looked sad. I asked her what was wrong. She stuck her bottom lip out and said, “I don’t want to sin, and I’m trying not to sin, but I just can’t do it.” It wasn't just a passing statement; I could tell that she was heartbroken about her own sin. That wouldn’t be possible if God hadn’t changed her heart.

Do I think she has a complete understanding of who Christ is and what He did for her? No. Do I have a full understanding of that, though? Certainly not. He is so vast that we’ll spend eternity getting to know Him without ever coming to an end of the wonder and glory and majesty and mystery of God.
And what now? Well, right after we prayed on Friday, she declared, “So now I need to get baptized, right?” That caught me by surprise, to be honest. Baptism doesn’t save people; it is a public display of salvation that has already occurred and an act of obedience to what God has instructed us to do in the Word. At our church, the person being baptized stands in front of the church and shares what her understanding of the Gospel is and how Christ drew her to Him and changed her. Because she’s only four, Lee and I weren’t planning to start discussing baptism in much detail until she was ready to stand before the church and do that. She says she’s ready now and that she wants to talk to Pastor Steve about that when we go to his house for dinner this week.

And she said she wants to ask him about how he’s going to make sure she doesn’t drown up there – that’s what she’s concerned about right now, not about talking in front of everyone.

I’m thankful for new hope in Christ and for sweet Baby New Hope, though I still wish we could have gotten to hold her before heaven held her.

(And thank you, Jenelle, for helping me write this post and encouraging me to share it here. We love y'all so much!)

Confidentiality: Why it matters

We all live in a fallen world. As such, it isn't pessimistic to state that everyone has challenges and unexpected circumstances. But I wouldn't want to wear my challenges as a placard around my neck, presenting them as if they define me.

How about you? What were your challenges this week? How would you feel about wearing them around your neck for all to see at church next Sunday?

Yeah, I didn't think you would. But that's exactly what we do when we present a disability as the defining aspect of a person.

You'll never see the real name of anyone with special needs on this blog nor any easily identifiable characteristics. The only pictures you'll see are ones that I have permission to post, and I don't add names to those either.

I could use names, because some of our parents would be comfortable with that. I don't, though, because I don't want someone to meet one of these individuals and know his label before his personality. If it were my child, I would want you to know my son or daughter as a kid first and foremost.

For that reason, all of our volunteers sign a confidentiality form. It's nothing fancy, just a statement like this:

I, __________________, serve Christ as a volunteer in special needs ministry at [insert church name]. In that role, I understand that I will learn about the special needs of the individual(s) with whom I serve. Out of respect and love, I will not disclose that information to anyone outside of this ministry.

Some people with disabilities don't mind everyone in the church knowing about their special needs. (And for those with physically apparent conditions, they might not have a choice about it.) However, it's not up to us to decide when, how or with whom the information ought to be shared.

It's not our story to share or not share; it's theirs.

"But what if we don't want to add another program to our church?"

It's easy nowadays for churches to become all about programs. In the words of Jason Stellman in Dual Citizens: Worship and Life between the Already and the Not Yet,

The first questions pastors often hear from visitors to their churches concern programs: “Do you have a young married couples ministry? How about an alcoholics’ recovery program? What activities does your youth ministry offer? And do you have anything for my green-eyed, left-handed pre-teen daughter who loves ferrets and plays the oboe?” The assumption seems to be that since the church is primarily a means for social interaction, it should provide “Christian” versions of whatever club or subculture we feel drawn to, no matter how narrow or age-specific.

Often churches are hesitant to cater to every sub-group in their congregation, lest the parts of the body of Christ be segregated and the Gospel get buried under all the programs. And while this is certainly a valid concern, special needs ministry simply can't be likened to a program for green-eyed, left-handed pre-teen girls who love ferrets and play the oboe.

Why not? Well, for one, those green-eyed, left-handed pre-teen girls can

• participate in other programs, 
• worship with others (you know, the right handers with brown and blue eyes),
• understand the Gospel as it is shared to anyone else and share it with others, and
• serve within the church.

Can individuals with special needs do those things at your church? Some can, depending on the extent to which their disabilities affect them, but many cannot at most churches.

My role as special needs ministry coordinator at our church isn't to create new programs. It's to identify barriers to ministry for these families and to remove those obstacles.

Special needs ministry isn't a new silo of ministry in your church. It's about making sure that every part of your church is accessible and welcoming.

What disability ministry is (insights from the Accessibility Summit)

One of the workshops I attended at the Accessibility Summit last week was titled Built to Last – Sustaining a Disability Ministry. It was a panel discussion featuring four directors for special needs ministry at different churches. While I gained several great takeaways from it, these points from Connie Hutchinson from First Evangelical Free Church of Fullerton, CA must be shared. (The points, bolded and italicized, are hers; the commentary on each comes from me.)

Disability ministry is...

1. ...not a numbers-driven ministry. She pointed out that it's not about how many families with special needs come to your church. It's about being a welcoming place, reaching out to your community, and serving those who come. Another way of wording this is found in my church's core beliefs, the emphasis on faithfulness over fruitfulness. We're called to be faithful; God is the one who brings forth the fruit.
2. ...not cost-effective. We're not just talking about money here. The human cost in terms of volunteers needed is higher in special needs ministry than in other ministries.
3. ...long-lasting. It's a lifetime commitment. A lot of churches only have special needs ministry programs for children, maybe even youth. But you know what? Those children and youth grow up. The adult special needs ministry at our church began at the result of one of our kids growing up and her family stepping forward to create a meaningful and welcoming place in our church for her and others. (And you don't need to wait until the children with special needs at your church grow up; there are adults with disabilities in your community already!)
4. ...a mission field. I've seen estimates that as many as 90% of people with disabilities are unchurched. I've never been able to find good sources for these numbers, so I'm not sure if that figure is fully accurate, but it is well-documented that church involvement of individuals with special needs is not high. If you want to share the good news of Christ with all people, then this is a good place to start!
5. ...relationship-driven rather than program-driven. This is true of any ministry. However, special needs ministry requires it more so than others, at least in my experience. When I was a youth ministry leader, it was possible to run all our weekly programming without getting to know students well. That wouldn't be effective ministry, but I've seen it happen before. In special needs ministry, though, it's about the individual not the disability or the program.

 And, finally, I would add one more: It's worth it.

mulletified

Once upon a time, a little four-year-old girl who had brown hair past her shoulders found scissors. And cut that brown hair shorter than her brother's hair. Short enough that she was regularly mistaken for a boy and that her momma had to scotch tape bows to her scalp.

{I can't find the pictures right now, but I will post 'em once I dig them up.}

Well, that little girl grew up and had a little blond girl. Who today, at age four, found scissors. And gave herself a mullet.

Yesterday, she looked like this at the AWANA Wacky Olympics. (Thanks, Heather, for posting this on Facebook!)

And here are a couple shots of her being silly last night before she left.

And here she is now.

The long strand in the middle shows you how long the rest of the front had been.

Heather, remember when we were talking about having you take some family pictures of us?

Um, I think we might wait on those.

She tried to pin the blame on Napoleon, suggesting that he cut her hair.

She finally 'fessed up.

Evidently, her bangs were getting in her eyes, and she didn't like that.

I don't think that's going to be a problem again for a long time.