In my previous post, I told the story of a rainy head-on collision between a bicycle and a car – and I was on the bicycle. Here are some lessons I have learned or been reminded of since.
The Christian life isn’t a joyride in the rain, but a war. If that analogy offends you, or if you’ve never experienced life on the battlefield, chances are you have never taken your relationship with Christ very seriously. This war we are engaged in is one we’re destined to win. The Lord Jesus has conquered sin, death, and the devil, and those of us who belong to Him are heirs of that purchased victory. But until He comes again, you face the realities of spiritual warfare on a daily basis. In your struggle against the forces of the world, the flesh, and the devil, you will find no peace talks, no negotiations, no cease-fire orders. You’re in it for the duration.
Kinetic Church was robbed. I don’t mean by the refs in the church league basketball tournament. I mean a thief (or thieves) stole a trailer containing 75% of the Charlotte area congregation’s equipment in early March, leaving the portable church with virtually nothing.
What would you do? How would you respond? How would you define your life if you discovered that three-fourths of your tangible assets – to say nothing of the hundreds of man-hours invested in labor – were instantly gone?
Can’t relate? How about the time somebody stole your dreams or your hope? Or your reputation? Or your innocence? Or your marriage?
You won’t believe what these guys did.
They went on the offensive. They started a billboard campaign with five different messages, as well as a YouTube video aimed directly at the thief. Check out the video below.
Kinetic Church’s response illustrates some powerful lessons in transforming painful experiences into remarkable opportunities:
Lisa Collins is a friend, a ministry partner, an extraordinary worship leader, and a bride-to-be. In response to my request for love stories, she wrote to me about how her father modeled God’s grace. I think you’ll like it! Here goes….
The casual observer might glance at my Dad and not notice anything that distinguishes him from any other man. He is average in height and build. His hair is showing some gray-which is expected of a man in his sixties who survived raising two daughters. His home is modest and under a mortgage. His job is nothing that will bring him acclaim, wealth or notoriety – he is a plumber. He is a husband. He is a father. He is a “B-Poppa”-short for “Big Poppa” in case you don’t speak his granddaughter, Daphnee’s, language.
In my previous post, I told the story of a rainy head-on collision between a bicycle and a car – and I was on the bicycle. Here are some lessons I have learned or been reminded of since.
