This week, as part of our Meet The Deacons mini-series, we're talking with Vanessa.

--

How long have you been part of Redeemer, and how long have you been serving as a deacon?

Vanessa: 7 years at Redeemer. I’ve been a deacon for about 5 years. 

What was your understanding of the office before you starting serving in the capacity you are? Has that changed over time? If so, how?

V: My understanding of the office of a deacon has not changed much at all. Deacons are called to serve the practical needs of the church and the community. I’ve learned that the specific role of a deacon does look different from church to church. 

What do you like about being a deacon? Is there anything you find particularly rewarding or challenging?

V: I like being able to help where there is a need. I may not be passionate about everything that I do for the church but I am passionate about serving Jesus and the local church.

It’s challenging coordinating volunteers and the rewarding part is seeing how God does provide for a way to accomplish our goal even if we don’t have all the volunteers we need.

It’s also really rewarding to hear stories of evidences of grace from people at Redeemer. 

What’s the most common question you are asked about being a deacon, and how do you respond?

V: So you don’t work for the church? No, it’s all volunteer, though I did get paid to cover for a few staff over the summer.

This week's post by Brandon Adent, a deacon at Redeemer Church. He loves words, music, and words about music.

Before I became a deacon, I had no idea what one even was. The few places in the bible I saw them addressed had more to do with how one qualified for office than what they actually did, a question I still struggle with at times, if I’m honest.

The office of Deacon has service at it’s core, and tends to the tangible needs of the church they serve. Those needs differ from church to church, so the office of Deacon can be - and is - expressed differently between churches.

At Redeemer, the deacons all have their areas of gifting and service, but really, we all make ourselves available, wherever the need is. We want to serve Jesus well, to care for His people, and to help people serve in ways that are consistent with their gifting.

So, over the course of the next couple months, we’ll be peppering our normal blog with short a little bit of question and answer with some current deacons at Redeemer. This will hopefully give us all a chance to at least know who our deacons are, what they do, and why they do it.

Stay tuned to hear from Vanessa later this week!

This week’s post is by Becca Wellan. 

I don’t really understand grace. I simply don’t get it. I never have and honestly, I probably never will. 

But I mean that differently than you might think. 

I grew up on Kraft mac n’ cheese, Veggie Tales and Sunday morning floral dresses. I grew up on Sunday night Awana and Wednesday night Youth Group. I grew up on animal crackers, Christian radio and I’m-Obviously-Homeschooled outfits. I was a prime example of Girl-in-Christian-Bubble. I knew what to do and say, what to avoid, to be “Christian enough.” I knew the words to Amazing Grace, a hymn I will always carry close to me. I just didn’t understand it.

Grace: A Christian catchphrase tossed around, but never explained. Actually, it was likely explained, but I know me. I know I felt like I didn’t need it. Though not consciously, in my heart I thought, I’m a good girl right? I don’t smoke, drink or sleep around. I don’t swear. I don’t listen to certain bands. I don’t wear certain clothes. I don’t watch certain TV shows or movies. I read my bible and go to church. I’m golden.

I let God’s grace, love and forgiveness take up only a small place in my soul because they simply didn’t resonate with me.

Though I knew I wasn’t sinless, I fit the “good Christian girl” mold. In my blindness, I didn’t see my need for Jesus. 

It’s funny how Sin deceives you like that. No, not funny. It’s scary how sin deceives you like that. His grimy, sweaty hands hold half your heart and fight to win you over completely, while whispering sweetly in your ear that you’re too good for grace. Or, that you’re simply too wretched.  And you believe him, because your heart is deceitful. Sin stalks your deceitful heart, He knows it well. He plays on your weaknesses. 

He played on mine. He stood by my side as I, with a dull knife, broke the mold. 

It’s scary how sin deceives you to the point that you’re suddenly drowning in guilt and gasping for grace, all while hurting the people you care deeply about. It’s scary how you suddenly find yourself in uncharted territory and you’re left alone, dazed, and wondering “how did I end up here?” 

You can avoid all the wrong things and still be capable of causing yourself and others serious damage. That’s just what it is to be human. No one is immune to a fallen humanity. Except for Jesus. He wore our skin and bones. With a love for sinners that was downright scandalous to religious leaders of the time, He lived a life we could never live. To give us forgiveness we never could earn. To promise us heaven, which we could never get into left to our own clumsy shots at morality. Heaven is for the clumsy moral, for the criminals and fools. Just look at Peter and Paul, David and Rahab. 

In the mess I made, you know what shocked me more than my sin? Grace. Grace is completely unreasonable. It’s God’s consistent, gentle determination to show us kindness and favor even when we wreck our lives … as Christians. Grace doesn’t stop at conversion. Grace doesn’t stop. Period. 

When that truth begins to sink in, it will change you. You don’t have to earn God’s love by avoiding sin, you don’t need to pay Him back for saving you by being obedient. 

My perspective on being a Christian changed when I finally realized I can just lay down and cry and be the broken one, knowing that God’s got me and He’s not going anywhere. Even in the mess. Even in the hurt. Even though sin still clings to me. Through it all, He still looks at us with adoration and, with kindness, leads us home.

I don’t really understand grace. I simply don’t get it. I never have and honestly, I probably never will. Here’s why: 

I have only begun to understand the comfort, the overwhelming joy, the laughter and freedom found in experiencing His totally unreserved, infinite, makes-no-sense-at-all, Amazing Grace towards wretched people like me. Like you. 

We have the rest of our lives, and the rest of forever, to deepen our understanding of the grace that is ours through Jesus. We may think we don’t need Him, we may think we don’t deserve His love, and while we’re trying to piece our lives together He holds us in loving arms and says:

“Come now, let’s settle this … though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them white as snow.” // Isaiah 1:18.  

“Through many dangers, toils and snares I have already come. Tis grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.”

This week’s post is by Ashley Bowie, a dramatic sort of person who needs dramatic reminders about things.

I hauled my sack of bones to the beach last weekend. It really felt that way too. I was weary, confused, sad, and angry. I went to the Olympic coast where the waves are unimpeded by the islands, and I let the crashing of the waves fill my heart and still my soul. Does that sound dramatic? Maybe it was a little bit, but the world is a mess and getting messier, and no one has any solutions.

I was sitting there in my tent, watching the waves, listening to their penetrating roar, and praying that God would just help my heart, and suddenly the peace that passes all understanding found me.

Revelation 1:14-15 “The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters.”

I don’t know how recently you have sat on the beach or near a rushing river, but let me delight you with a little drama. You park your car at the end of a long line of cars facing a thick wall of trees you can’t see more than a few feet into. “Great” you think, “the beach will be crowded and I won’t get any peace and quiet.” But you haul your stuff out of the car anyway and head into the woods. The trees are quiet, the soft forest floor muffles your steps and that smell, what is it? It’s wood and salt, green ferns and ageless evergreen. Things start slipping away and you don’t notice. The careless words spoken to you, the careless words you’ve spoken, fade. Life might be sad, but it’s also beautiful. You breathe deep and exhale in a staggered sigh. Then you see it, as the trees thin and you begin a descent to the shore, there it is, the wide open sea. You catch your breath and practically run to get there faster. Pitch a tent, kick off your shoes, run for the tide and return their stares with smiles. Families, couples, children and photographers dot the shore line and they all seem to be talking, but you can’t hear them. The crashing of the waves is consuming, overwhelming and deeply comfortable. It’s undeniable, those rushing roaring waves produce an exhilarating calm.

So much of life is what you choose. The parade of endless anger, prejudice and hate will always be there because we live among fallen men. The struggle between your flesh and spirit is not going to end until we reach heaven. There will always be a battle in the making or a battle we are fighting. But there will also always be the voice of God. His consuming, overwhelming, comforting roar will always be there to hear if you will listen.

I’m not suggesting that we tune out the world, or ignore the problems of our generation. I am saying that the voice of God is louder, stronger and all together pure. Nothing will calm your heart like He can. The problems of the world will come, and we can offer solutions, and fight for social justice and do our best to make the world better. But if we aren’t careful, the world can be overwhelming.

Romans 8:5-6 “For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.”

I really needed the reminder that God’s voice is like the roar of many waters; consuming all other noise, and drowning out the superfluous demands for attention. It was a call for me to set my mind on the Spirit, to keep His voice near to me and let Him be the one who sorts my thoughts and gives weight to the priorities in my life.

You don’t need the open ocean or a mighty river to feel that overwhelming peace. You just need the Spirit of God. I want to remember the next time I’m feeling overwhelmed by life, that the Spirit of God is in me, that His voice will consume the noise and give me peace.

This week's post by Brandon Adent, a deacon at Redeemer Church. He likes words and music, and as soon as he hits publish will pour himself another cup of coffee and listen to an old Switchfoot album.

Fine. 

Given the question “How are you doing?”, a response meant to communicate a mental state somewhere between “decent” and “I can’t complain”.

But “fine” is lazier, somehow; I find it to be an effective substitute for “I don’t want to get into it”.

“Fine”. What a terrible word.

And yet it is the word I choose most often.

Perhaps I go with this awful word due to a lack of time or energy. Or maybe I’m trying to be considerate; I know someone else is going through a much tougher time, and it doesn’t make sense to talk about how I’m bored at work or school.

For me, though, the main reason is not that I’m doing well or poorly, it’s that I haven’t stopped think about it. I get so caught up in finding and making distractions that I lose sight of what I’m avoiding.

I don’t want to stop the hamster wheel of distraction, either. (They’ve gotta know that all that work is getting them nowhere, right?). I’m scared of which adjective is true. Actually. I’m scared of saying which adjective is true, of admitting to myself and others how I truly am.

But, as Christians, the Gospel frees us up to be honest with ourselves and others. We know that God sees behind every facade we create, every little lie we tell ourselves, every flaw or weakness we try to cover:

“O God, you know my folly,” the Psalmist says, “the wrongs I have done are not hidden from you.” (Psalm 69:5)

Because the only Person who does not have opinions knows us for who we really are - and died for us knowing our worst - we can be honest with ourselves and others. We don’t have to resort to “fine”.

Like any word, “fine” does have it’s place in life and conversation. But don’t let it take the place of honesty.

Given the question “How are you doing?”, maybe pick a different response than “fine”.

This blog is by Ashley Bowie, who pairs well with coffee and a good story.

Life is really hard. I’m sure you have noticed that. Sometimes in life you have to deal with people who don’t like you, or with people you don’t like. You have to work during times you would rather be with your family. People say mean things or do terrible things, loved ones die or we have to stand by as they face trials we don’t know how to help with. Life is really hard.

It does not become perfectly easy as a Christ follower. I’m sure you’ve noticed that too. People still hurt you, bosses still exist, tragedies happen to us or the people we love and you can still get weary and depressed. In our own community right now there are people facing loss and hardship that seems unfair, and more than most of us know what to do with.

The world will offer a few solutions to your problems, they come in little inspirational slogans on a backdrop of a sunset or waterfall. ‘Pull yourself up’ is the general idea in most of them. If you can’t manage that, then try to keep your sorrows to yourself and not weigh down the rest of the world. You’ll get better, give it time.

The people of God have another option. We have one another. The New Testament has 55 “One Another” statements. These verses call out how we are to treat one another. We are called the body of Christ; we are one body. The hand does not despise the foot, the eye does not despise the heart, we are all in this together. When one member suffers, all suffer, when one rejoices, all rejoice. That means we don’t abandon people when they are sad because it makes us too sad. We don’t grow envious of one another’s victories because we didn’t get a victory. We share in these things with one another. You are no freer to walk away from a member of the body of Christ than you are to cut off your own hand. Sure you could, but only at a great detriment to yourself.

A few weeks ago, the women of Redeemer gathered together for breakfast, prayer and good conversation. Usually there is a teaching during these quarterly gatherings but not this week. We gathered intentionally, to bear one another’s burdens.

Galatians 6:2 “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”

There is no instruction on how to do this. But as the body of Christ, that has the spirit of Christ, you don’t have to know. Sometimes the thing to do is just be there, sometimes it’s offering prayer, or to take a task off their hands. The thing is, Christ knows what is needed, and we as His body, simply act in love. Language does not contain the right words in times of sorrow, and it is hard to know what do or say when your friend loses someone, or faces a tragedy. But still we are called to bear with one another.

I think in the simplest of terms, this means just not walking away, not cutting off your hand. For us, on that sunny Saturday morning, this meant we spent time just talking with one another, listening to one another’s stories, and sharing our own. This meant that when we prayed for a friend we all wept together for the struggle she is facing. This means we remember one another’s trials and we continue to pray. You don’t have to know what to do because God does know, and He will see to it. Bearing with one another means hand to hand praying, one foot after the other, brain communicating with heart, lungs handling the rhythm of breath while the tear ducts empty.

No one is in this alone. The world has nothing to offer because the world is “every man for himself.” Among the body of Christ it is, “every man is myself.”