Inside Out

I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to being a minister in a small town. More than being slightly famous and having people talk about what you put in your grocery trolley; when you’re a dorpie dominee it can feel as though everyone’s pretending about who they really are; from the hairdresser to the mechanic, even strangers tend to behave unnaturally in your presence.

Like the other day a guy was telling me about a village enemy who had wronged him again. His emotions grew as he relived the situation. His arms gesticulated, his voice got louder, and then to his surprise… he let the ‘F’ word slip. Realising what he had just said and who he had said it to, he looked mortified. Shamefully jangling keys in his pocket, he blushed and apologised with ‘Agg sorry, excuse my French’. I tried my best to remain composed but it was just too funny, and I burst out laughing. I suppose not the most gracious way to deal with him, but I couldn’t help it. Perhaps because I knew of all the times I’ve came close to saying something I shouldn’t.

Bad words don’t just slip out, do they? They don’t just randomly land in our mouths by accident, they come from somewhere. Jesus would have us believe they are a mirror of what is really going on inside. Think about it, when regrettable words spill you’ve been thinking them all along hiding what you really feel, but then in that unguarded moment you forget to dress up your inner feelings and the true thought comes tumbling out your mouth. A friend of mine calls it ‘Foot in Mouth Disease’, but it’s really more like ‘Heart in Mouth Disease’ because, “Out of the overflow of your heart your mouth speaks” Mt . 15:8.

Our character is what we feel or do without thinking. I may say, ‘I didn’t mean that,’ but something in me did mean it. My true character ‘leaks’ when I’m not trying to impress anyone or when I don’t carefully plot how I should act in order to reflect Christ. When someone cuts me off on the highway my true character is reflected by whether I say “Bless you” or “@!#$% you”.  

So the way we live is actually a spiritual thing. As Dallas Willard points out, if we want to change anything about ourselves we must be changed spiritually. Spiritual formation is key because it is the condition of our heart that determines the people we will be. The way we treat others, what choices we make, the things we value, our moral standards and even our view of God; all spring from our spirituality. We need to cooperate with God and be changed on the inside; there is no other hope.

But here is the amazing thing, if we allow God to change us inwardly we won’t have to pretend to be kind and loving any more. If our inside is transformed we won’t have to try to love, unloving thoughts and actions simply won’t occur to us. Instead of being surprised by the curses that used to come out of our mouths, we’ll be surprised by the blessings we speak and the loving thoughts and actions that spring up before we’re even aware of them. Imagine smiling at an enemy without thinking, giving without counting the cost, sharing without hesitation, loving spontaneously!

If we’re changed from the inside out we won’t even have to worry about what words may slip when next we happen to be speaking to the minister.

Letters of Grace: A second salvation

Part of what I have had to do this year in preparation for ordination is reflect on my call to ministry. Since today marks 100 days till ordination! I thought I would share some of that testimony with you.

I gave my life to Jesus and came to know the love of God in a youth group at Boshoff St Methodist church. We were just a little band of teenage misfits (sorry guys) but it was here that I got my first real sense of being called. I praise God for the people I encountered there, people like Athole Davies and Cathy Bolleart who gave me their trust, friendship, affirmation, and guidance. It was here that the opportunity to teach, and pastor and disciple, stirred a desire to minister and a part of me came to life that I hadn’t been aware of before.

Resisting God’s call at the age of 18 I decided rather to study agriculture. These were definitely my wondering years, to call this an ‘interesting’ time in my life would be a kind description. Having done an unorthodox 8 month Bsc short course at UKZN (if you know what I mean) I graduated up the hill to Cedara ‘the college of knowledge’ where I completed a three year diploma and began working as a dairy manager on a jersey farm in Dundee. Although I really enjoyed farming and still think fondly of those days, even then I felt a call to ministry. Dairying is hard and lonely work and to pass the hours I would often think up sermons. At the risk of sounding like Angus Buchan, on some abandoned Sunday afternoons I would preach to the cows. Sadly none ever converted but they never fell asleep either.

From Dundee I went to the UK. It was my plan to work and travel and really just have fun. Again there was such a paradox in my life because I loved the work I was doing, I enjoyed the adventure I was on and the freedom of not being responsible to anyone or anything; but looking back it was the most lost I have ever been. My life had no meaning, no real reason. I still find it embarrassing to think of the person I was then; yet again God gave me friends like Oliver, Lyle and Wayne who were generous and understanding housemates. They still remind me from time to time about the things I got up to then.

It was during this time that a second salvation played out in my life. As I grew more and more discontented I began praying. I knew what God was calling me to do, but I didn’t really know where to begin and I didn’t feel I was worthy of it anymore. Finally I plucked up the courage and spoke to a close friend, until then it had been years since I last verbalised what I felt God was saying to me. I thought he was going to laugh at me, but I remember a loud beating in my chest and being flooded with hope when he said, “Finally, do you know how long we’ve been waiting for you to stop mucking about!?”He then asked if he could pray for me and prayed a simple prayer, “Lord we can see your call on Collin’s life, he seems ready to listen please show a way for him to honour that. Amen.” I felt a bit let down, there were no singing angels no booming voice or light from above just amen and we had supper.

The next morning I got the strangest letter in the post. During my stay in the UK I had moved twice, first from Hereford to Falkirk, then from Falkirk to London. This letter had been sent to Hereford, forwarded to Falkirk, and then forwarded again to London. It was from Alan Wright the minister at Wesley Methodist Church in Maritzburg. It said that they were looking for a youth pastor. He explained that he knew I had only spent a year overseas and might have other plans but that my name kept coming up for this position. He had decided to take a chance and see if I would be interested.

Now I don’t know how my life would have played out had I continued down the path I was on or had I never received that letter. I like to think that God would have got through to me some other way, but that letter is a deep grace moment for me, a crucial turning point. Because from there I began working as a youth pastor, met my wife Claire, candidated and now stand 100 days away from ordination. As I reflect I am in awe and I am humbled at the depth of God’s grace and grateful that that grace has never failed to find me.

Stop

Have you ever had one of those days when everything goes wrong? Where you feel the universe is out to get you and whatever you touch is going to break. A while ago I woke up to such a day. Even my morning coffee wasn’t safe because when I sat down to drink it, the mug handle broke clean off and sent home brew and bits of mug all over the lounge floor. When Grace (my four year old daughter) came walking through she got a sharp piece of coffee mug stuck in her foot. Her screams woke up Emily and the day began with wailing and gnashing of teeth.

When a day starts like this it’s best to call in sick. Don’t attempt anything complicated, stay away from heavy machinery; don’t leave the house if you can help it, just hide because trouble is looking for you!

I wish I’d followed my own advice, because a bit later I went out to the SPAR. Surely nothing serious could happen between home and the SPAR!! It turns out a traffic cop happened. Jumping out unexpectedly he pulled me over, apparently for not stopping at the stop street. You know the one I’m talking about, every village, town and city has one; that ridiculous stop sign that no one ever stops at.

 I still can’t help laughing when I think about how I had absolutely no idea what the policeman wanted with me. I thought he must have the wrong person, didn’t he know how good a driver I was? The truth is I don’t think I’ve ever stopped at that stop street, it doesn’t even seem like a stop street to me anymore.

Being caught I decided to take the high ground and thought, “Ok Collin you’re a minister in a small town, be an example, you have done wrong, now take your punishment like a good upstanding Christian citizen.” So I apologised as best I could, I cooperated with the officer and promised to stop at every stop sign I ever came to for the rest of my driving life.

As he wrote up the fine I self-righteously thought of how essential traffic law was and thanked God for making me so open to correction. I thought of how the world would be a better place if some taxi drivers accepted their wrong with the same attitude. That is until I discovered the cost of my transgression. “Sir,” he said in an official voice, “You have committed a criminal offence by failing to stop at the stop sign, you have contravened the laws of the road and endangered the lives of innocent people,” he clearly took his job seriously, “you are fined R1500.”

With a sudden loss of control I gasped, “R1500! What do you mean R1500!!?” then muttered a few more exclamations under my breath. All thoughts of being a model citizen flew out the window and the weaselling began.

Phase 1: Deny the offence.          

“Officer are you sure I didn’t stop? I’m pretty sure I came to a complete stop? I’m a good driver I would never have just driven through a stop sign like that, I respect you and your work but this time you must be mistaken!”

Phase 2: Point out the foolishness and injustice of the rule.

“You know this is really a stupid place to have a stop sign, it’s ridiculous, I mean what does it help to have a stop sign here? It shouldn’t be more than a yield. This is just a money making scheme, you put a stop sign where there shouldn’t be one and then you wait to prey in innocent people like me!”

Phase3: Point out others breaking the same law.

“Why are you picking on me, while we’ve been sitting here I’ve seen at least ten people go through that stop street, but you didn’t pull them over.”

Phase 4: Indirectly hint about being a minister, in the hope religious position will buy some favour

“This is so embarrassing, what are my congregation going to say when they find out their minister got a fine?”

In the end none of the phases worked because he just smiled, placed the fine in my hand and said, “Have a nice day Pastor.”

The law is ruthless, and the consequence for sin painful, but do you think this episode taught me anything? Well apparently not because I recently, while driving, got a smack from Claire. Confused, I turned to her as she said, “Don’t you stop at that stop street?”

In fact, I don't understand why I act the way I do. I don't do what I know is right. I do the things I hate. Although I don't do what I know is right, I agree that the Law is good.  So I am not the one doing these evil things. The sin that lives in me is what does them.

Locked In

A few weeks ago, I was helping Claire and our daughters get ready for School. Other than being a bit cold and wet, it was a normal Tuesday morning and all was going according to our usual routine. Running slightly late, I was busy with the painful, nearly futile task of trying to hurry two toddlers to the car, while Claire packed the last of their bags. Eventually after some frustration Emily and Grace were strapped in and ready to go. We said our goodbyes, Claire jumped in the car and the three of them raced off to Pennington. I was impressed because it looked as though they would get to school on time. Still in my pyjamas, standing in the drizzle, I waved them goodbye and watched the electric gate close behind them.

I love my children, they are wonderful but I declare, with a degree of shame, that this is my favourite time of the morning; that half an hour at home by myself before going to work. In these thirty precious minutes I indulge in a highly treasured, desperately selfish ritual of quiet and relaxed coffee drinking.

But on this terrible Tuesday when I got to the front door and turned the handle, my heart sank. The door wouldn’t open, it was locked and the keys were on their way to school with Claire and the girls. “Oh bother!”, is an edited version of what came out my mouth, but Like Pooh Bear I was stuck, no getting out, no getting in, no phone, no way of squeezing through the electric fence, no caffeine either, my chin began to quiver.

When the self pity finally passed I realised I couldn’t sit there all day in the rain in my pyjamas, I had to do something, I had to get out of this trap. Suddenly a number of options came to mind, the kitchen window was ajar, there was still a key on the hook behind the door, and I had access to my tools because the garage was open. In no time I was humming ‘Mission Impossible’ while hatching my escape, “da da dada da da dada,”. Now I can’t share any details about what happened next, but suffice to say MacGyver would have been proud and without any damage to church property I got into the house and reclaimed my coffee. You may take my keys but you will never take my freedom!

I wonder if it’s a problem that I got the same ‘locked in feeling’ last week as I stood before synod and got accepted for ordination? I was a bit anxious but the oral exam went without any real drama. Tinges of claustrophobia only set in when I had to make public promises in commitment to God and the church.  I was reminded that when you commit to something or someone you wilfully restrict yourself, you in effect say, “I choose this and by choosing this I eliminate the other options. Whatever happens I lock myself in, if everything goes well I’m in, if things go badly I’m in.”

Perhaps it’s because freedom, choice, and options are so much a part of how we think. I’ve grown up in an era that teaches to never be tied down, never get trapped, because that’s bad strategy. Ironically, real freedom, true liberty, is found in becoming a slave. Or as Jesus put it, it is only in giving up your life that you really find it. Because a life that only ever partially commits, that forever holds back and hedges its bet, thinks it will be free but instead turns restless and fearful and absent and never actually lives.

So yes committing to Christ means dying to so many things and forgoing certain choices, but there really is nothing better than the life God offers. I’m learning to love the occasions that come along that require I be locked in, left with only one path to follow. They give me the opportunity to discover, like Peter, that there is nothing more free than being able to say, “I have nowhere else but you Lord.”

The end and the beginning

In May our district holds its synod in Escort, which is particularly important for me this year as it marked the final step I must take before getting ordained in September. I will have the opportunity of sharing my testimony, but will also have to field questions given by the bishop and the synod delegates. Apparently these are not to trap us but rather to ‘showcase our developed theology’. Either way, it is an anxious moment and I, along with the other ordinands, will be sweating bullets as we try to respond without making fools of ourselves.

While I’m quite nervous I’m also looking forward to it because, I will be appearing before the same synod that accepted my candidature for ministry in 2006. Some of the faces have changed but there will be those who remember me and hopefully see the growth that has happen over these years.

In 2006 I was twenty-eight years old and Claire and I had only been married a few months. Synod that year was in Uvongo and I nearly arrived late, not realising how far Uvongo was from Pietermaritzburg. I can still remember the certainty, almost arrogance, with which I slipped into Synod just as they were calling candidates forward. We all gave our testimonies and then were told to go wait outside (it didn’t seem to matter that it was raining).

While the superintendants gave their reports and synod made their decision, I stood outside with my fellow candidates and was surprised at their level of stress. Until then I hadn’t really felt any cause for concern, but my fears quickly grew.

I can remember the feeling of achievement that came over me when the Bishop announced I was accepted to train as a minister. I felt as though I had arrived, like I had accomplished my goal, but in reality there was still so much I had to go through and learn (if only I had know!). That moment presented itself as an end but it was really a beginning. The seven years that have passed since then have been a full mix of learning, joy, hardship, disappointment and achievement all beyond what I could ever have thought up or dreamed of myself. I can truly say I am not the same person I was then. Too much has happened, too much changed.

Life is full of so many instances that look like ends but are actually beginnings. Not just the apparently good things like graduations, passed exams or new careers; but also the seemingly bad things like illness, retrenchment and funerals. Easter has reminded me that God can use even the most devastating things like death and betrayal as a new beginning. 

Now as September and my ordination approach with agonising slowness, I move towards it with more reverence than I did my candidature. I am reminded that although this will be a landmark in my life it must not be an end but a beginning. The learning and growing cannot stop. God always has more to show and teach and there is always something about me that will need to grow or change in some way.

As I look back on all that has happened in this time I am filled with a mixture of excitement and fear about the next seven years. What will be the new achievements, joys and successes? What will be the new disappointments, hardships and sadness’s.

A comfort is that although there are the things I plan on making happen in my future, and although there are the things that life will just make happen in my future, God remains in control, God has a plan, and God will always be working a new beginning even when it looks like the end.

“The end is the beginning is the end”

-Smashing Pumpkins-