Ben Reed, Author at - Page 12 of 86

Author: Ben Reed (page 12 of 86)

11 ways to fight well, from 1 Corinthians 13

image via iStockphoto user contrails

Every couple fights. It’s a reality of living in a fallen world.

But not every couple fights well. Another reality of living in a fallen world.

Couples that learn to grow through their arguments can have some of the strongest marriages on the planet.

I know that 1 Corinthians 13, though often shared at weddings, isn’t a passage just for love in marriage, there are a lot of principles we can learn as they relate to how love acts.

Fighting well, from 1 Corinthians 13

1. Don’t fling old poo.

Stop bringing up past failures. Love keeps no record of wrongs. (1 Corinthians 13:5)

2. Listen when the other person is talking.

Don’t just be preparing your rebuttal. Love is patient. (1 Corinthians 13:4)

3. Think before you speak.

Love is patient and kind. (1 Corinthians 13:4)

4. Always hope.

Assume the best about the other person. Don’t assume their motive was to undermine you. Assume they love you. Because they’ve already told you that. (1 Corinthians 13:4)

5. Don’t threaten to give up.

Constantly threatening with “divorce” and “I’m going to walk away” erodes the health of your marriage. Thankfully, God doesn’t ever threaten us like that. (Deuteronomy 31:6). Love never gives up. (1 Corinthians 13:7)

6. Stop the yelling.

Don’t yell for yelling sake. When you raise your voice and your temper and your emotions, you only escalate things. And you sound a whole lot like a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. (1 Corinthians 13:1)

7. Always rejoice when the truth wins.

~~Even when~~ Especially when the truth doesn’t land in your favor, and you lose the battle. (1 Corinthians 13:6)

8. No name-calling.

Love does not dishonor the other person by reducing them to a demeaning, offensive name. Love is kind. (1 Corinthians 13:4)

9. In kind, affectionate ways, touch each other.

Reach out and hold the other person’s hand. Pat their leg. Put your hand on their shoulder. There’s something disarming about physical affection. And, maybe more importantly, there’s something about physical affection that, in the heat of the moment, you don’t naturally want to do. Choosing loving physical affection helps calm your raging heart. Love does not demand its own way. (1 Corinthians 13:5)

10. Keep the details between the two of you. (and a healthy ‘accountability’ partner, if you have that)

When you fight, don’t run home and share the details with your parents. Don’t share them with your friends. Keep them between the two of you. For health sake, though, you may need to have someone safe, who knows you both, that you can share your heart with. Just make sure this is the same person every time, and that this person loves Jesus and has your best interest at heart. Love keeps no record of wrongs…but outside parties do. (1 Corinthians 13:5)

11. Pray before, after, and during.

Loving someone through an argument is something that can only happen supernaturally. It comes from God. If we’re going to love our spouse well, we must ask the One from whom we received love in the first place.

Keep fighting

March 27, 2013 / Ben Reed / 1 Comment

image credit: iStock Photo user amygdala_imagery

I try not to check my distance too often while I jog, because running is often as much in my head as it is in my feet. I tell my legs what to do…they don’t tell me.

On this particular day, however, I was listening to a podcast, not paying attention at all to how far I’d gone. Turns out I hadn’t even made it out of the neighborhood on my trek to 7 miles.

As I glanced down to see my distance, I realized where I was.

I was at the most depressing part of a jog. The part where I realized I’d just left the house, but I still had a long, long ways to go. I was at the point where you look down to see how far you’ve gone, only to realize that on your ensuing 7 mile jog, you’ve only traveled .5 mile.

The rest of the jog, which took nearly an hour, felt like it took 4 days. Every hill was tougher. Every burst of sun more blinding. Every corner with shade was too chilly. Every puddle deeper.

It was depressing. I felt unproductive. I felt like the journey ahead was too far to go. I felt like I’d never make it.

Which is why it’s never good to measure success on the first half-mile.

Don’t measure the success of your recovery from addiction on the 2nd week, when you feel like you might break.

Don’t measure the success of your small group on the 3rd meeting, when the group still hasn’t gelled.

Don’t measure the success of your new idea on the first person you pitch it to, who tells you it’s dumb.

Don’t measure the success of your spiritual goals at week 4, when you’re still struggling with wanting to want God.

Don’t measure the success of your marriage in month 3 during a fight, when you’re tempted to walk away from it all.

Don’t measure the success of the church you’re visiting on the first visit, when you were frustrated.

Don’t measure the success of your career on your first job, which you struggled to find any satisfaction in.

Success isn’t measure .5 mile from the starting line.

Success is measured at the end of the race.

Whatever race you’re running right now, keep fighting. Keep running. Keep clawing. And don’t give up.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race. I have kept the faith. – Paul, 2 Timothy 4:7

RebukEncouragement

March 20, 2013 / Ben Reed / 5 Comments

image via Amber Sprung, CreationSwap, quote mine

Just the other day, someone was trying to give me a compliment. I think.

It’s great you are able to do ministry like this at such a young age, and be able to learn so much. You’re doing a great job for your age in life.

I smiled and cordially thanked him. My mind racing as he walked away. I kept thinking, “Was that an encouragement? A rebuke? A compliment? A slap in the face?”

A backhanded slap feels a little better when it’s couched with something nice, right? Especially if you can somehow mix God, ministry, theology, and “spiritual growth” all together. It’s kinda like being slapped by a sweet old grandma, while she gives you a kiss on the cheek. It’s kinda sweet. And kinda mean. And you don’t know whether to smile, be angry, run and hide, stand and fight, or curl up in the fetal position.

A few weeks ago, I was told, “For the task you’ve got in front of you, you’re doing well.” Again, I smiled and said thanks, but thought, “What does that even mean? If it were easier, would I not be doing well? If it were harder, would I be an abysmal failure?”

This is probably a reflection of my broken, depraved mind.

But I started thinking if there were other ways of encouraging someone…and backhanding them all at the same time. I came up with a few that we use in the Christian world. I call them “RebukEncouragements.” See what I did there? I brought together two biblical words and…well, you get it.

RebukEncouragements

You’re doing a great job for your age.
For the task in front of you, you’re doing well.
I’m glad God isn’t done with you yet.
If God can save you he can save anyone.
To pastors: Most pastors aren’t as normal as you are.
To pastors: It must be nice having a job where you only have to work one day/week.
To pastors: For all of the extra “ministry stuff” you had to do this week, it’s amazing you could have pulled together a sermon at all. I’m glad you at least preached something.
God can love someone even as difficult as you.
It must be exciting for you that you still have so much to learn.
God has used you in my life to teach me patience.
Without you I wouldn’t know how to deal with difficult people.
I can’t even imagine how God’s going to use you when you grow in maturity.

Anything you’ve heard/said before that is a RebukEncouragement?

My pastor

March 19, 2013 / Ben Reed / 4 Comments

My pastor, David Landrith, has just been diagnosed with an incurable cancer. He, and our church, covet your prayers.

PrayForDavid.com

#PrayForDavid

The Mission Ahead from Long Hollow Creative on Vimeo.

13 Reasons Why Small Groups are Vital to your Spiritual Growth

March 11, 2013 / Ben Reed / 6 Comments

I love Sunday morning corporate worship. It energizes me to worship with other believers, and be challenged by good, solid preaching.

But corporate gatherings alone will dry me up, spiritually. I need small group life.

You do, too.

Why Small Groups are Vital to Your Spiritual Growth

1. It’s too easy to hide in a large gathering.

It’s tougher to hide in a small group.

2. It’s too easy to be passive during a sermon.

Wallflowers don’t last long in a small group.

3. There is little to no accountability.

Follow-through is much easier in a small group.

4. We’re prone to think we matter too little.

Small groups remind us that we are loved.

5. We’re prone to think we matter too much.

Small groups remind us that others have problems, too.

6. We’re prone to think, “they need to hear this.”

Small groups challenge us to personally apply Truth.

7. We’re prone to think, “this is only for me…”

Small groups keep us from cycling into destructive self-pity and loathing.

8. When we cry, there’s nobody to ask us, “What’s going on?”

Small groups don’t let tears go unchecked.

9. No food is allowed in most worship gatherings. #Lame.

We eat well in our small group.

10. “Be quiet while the pastor is preaching!”

Small group gives you time to have deep, life-stirring conversations with people.

11. Convictions go unchecked.

When the Spirit moves in small group, you’ve got time to slow down.

12. Specific needs go un-prayed for.

Small groups pray for the specific needs of their group members.

13. There’s no time for questions.

Small groups ask hard questions and allow for discovery.

Are you in a small group? Has it helped you grow spiritually?

Don’t waste your fail

March 7, 2013 / Ben Reed / 2 Comments

image credit: vmvt.it

When I was in college, working on my undergraduate degree, I had a class in swine production.

I know, I know…sounds just like what you’d expect a guy who would end up as a pastor would study, right?

My path to full-time vocational ministry was not the one of least resistance.

A few times that semester, we got to visit a pig farm, and see the whole production. We’d help with the newborn pigs, watch a feeding time, see how research was conducted (on the research farm on campus), and meet with various workers. It was fascinating.

And made your clothes smell horrible.

There was no faking that you’d been to the pig farm. You had to change clothes and shower before your next class…every time.

One thing that stuck with me from that class was the way that nothing was wasted on the farm. Not even the pigs’ poop.

The poop was piled in a barn, and over the course of a year, the poop would compost, leaving a rich fertilizer that the farmers would use to fertilize the fields that other animals would graze. It was an incredible additive and boost to those fields, giving yields that greatly surpassed the non-fertilized fields. In other words, the poop made the crops grow faster.

Pig poop, though foul-smelling to us humans, contains nutrients that help crops grow really well. After it was harvested and composted (by which time it didn’t stink anymore), it was simply spread across the field in the spring, just before a rain, its nutrients used by the budding crops.

The poop from your past

You’ve got poop in your life. Things you’ve done that you’re not proud of. Things that have been done to you that you wish hadn’t happened. Dreams that you lost, relationships that crumbled. Jobs lost. Marriages destroyed. Addictions that you’re ashamed of. You’ve messed up in a way that you’d hope and pray nobody would ever mess up. You’ve done things…or not done thing…that you never want to repeat.

We typically do one of two things with that pain and suffering:

Ignore it and act like it never happened.
Wallow in it.

Neither is healthy.

Option 1 leaves us judgmental of others who have real pain, ignorant of our own Pharisaical stench. We’re left with a shallow understanding of our sin and pain…and thus a shallow understanding of God’s goodness and grace. Acting like “poop” never happened wastes our pain.

Option 2 leaves us in a crying, heaping, depressed, self-depracating mess. All of the time. We get stuck in what “could’ve been,” what “should’ve been,” and “who I wish I was,” constantly making ourselves pay for our past mistakes over and over again. OR making others pay for our past mistakes by disengaging from those who love us, and who would love to help. Wallowing in our “poop” wastes our pain.

I’ve got a 3rd option, and I take my cue from the pig poop.

Allow your failures to help someone else.

The way God brought you through the junk can help someone else who, right now, can’t see the light. They’re stuck. They’re in the middle of an addiction or the throes of suffering.

Live a life full of grace because you’ve been graced so much by the King. Live a life of love because you were loved first. Live a life of forgiveness because of the heaping amounts of forgiveness you’ve been given that you can never repay. Live a life of generosity because you’ve been given so much.

Your valleys can become great pastures that others can graze from as they see you living life to the full. (John 10:10)

No need to ignore the past. It’s purpose isn’t to hold you back. No need to wallow in it, either.

Let someone else graze from it.

If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort. – 2 Corinthians 1:6-7

Pain hurts: a reflection on our miscarriage

March 6, 2013 / Ben Reed / 6 Comments

I originally posted this 2 years ago. My wife and I are coming up on the 2-year mark for this portion of our stories, but with the massive changes in our lives recently (I’m now on staff at Long Hollow), I wanted to share this again. Just so you know, this was, and is, a painful part of our story.

It wasn’t just a miscarriage. It didn’t feel like we were “losing a pregnancy.” It felt like we were losing a baby.

Those are the words I’ve uttered countless times to countless people. As the news eked in through little spurts of information from multiple ultrasounds and blood tests, what we feared became a reality. “It’s not a viable pregnancy” didn’t make the pain or reality disappear. It didn’t make the baby growing inside my wife any less of a human.

Earlier this year, my wife experienced the most pain we’ve experienced in our marriage. My wife processed it out loud on my blog HERE.

Though the pain wasn’t as visceral for me, it was no less real. Through the process, I learned some valuable lessons.

Lessons I learned through a miscarriage

Every life is a gift.

I value my own life, and especially the life of my won, so much more now. It’s so much more valuable.

Every life is miracle.

Seeing that this whole pregnancy/birthing process doesn’t just happen automatically has really helped me see how each and every birth is a great miracle.

Experiencing a miscarriage is a real loss.

Not that I didn’t understand this from a theological, academic standpoint. But going through it myself, experiencing that loss, has given me a greater understanding of how to minister to people who are experiencing this. We had talked about the difficulty of miscarriages in seminary. But it was all theory. And I know that someone doesn’t have to go through every difficulty before they can help someone else. But there’s a different weight, a different level of help, that you give once you’ve experienced the exact pain that another person is experiencing.

There’s no “getting over” this.

I dont’ think it’s possible to really “get over” this loss. You can move on. You can grow. But to think that you can “get over” this as if it never really happened is foolish. Anytime you experience significant pain, the answer in coping is learning how to deal with life differently, because life has been altered.

My wife and I are doing well. We’ve grown because of this. Grown in ways we probably wouldn’t have otherwise.

We’ve still not had the joy of getting pregnant again. Maybe God will see fit for us to head back down that path. But maybe not.

Regardless, we’re trusting Him.

*photo credit Creation Swap user: Joe Cavazos

Thoughts on love and loss

March 5, 2013 / Ben Reed / 10 Comments

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This is a guest post from my wife, Laura. We had a miscarriage earlier this year, and here are her thoughts moving forward. You can follow her on Facebook HERE, and the company she (and my wife and sister-in-law) created HERE.

image by Reggie Tiongco

I still remember the first time I saw our baby- all curled up on the monitor screen- the sweet profile of the head, nubs of arms and legs not quite developed. It was love at first sight. That was our baby. The one we has waited so long for. The one that made our Rex a big brother.

Looking back, the night we found out we were pregnant was such a bad time to take a pregnancy test. It was humorous really, Superbowl Sunday, people expected at our house any minute. I’m not really sure what I was thinking. With all of the negative test we had taken over those months, I knew whichever way the test went I would find it hard to be a good hostess. Maybe not knowing would have been just as hard.

I surely didn’t expect it to be positive. Oh, and the events following that night and it’s announcement. I have often tried to make sense of the purpose of that short life growing inside of me. It’s true, that through announcing our joy we were able have a heart-to-heart with loved ones- clear the air about where our relationship had been and where we all wanted it to be. And while I wouldn’t trade that sweet moment in their living room for anything, our baby was alive then.

Where is the meaning in the death?

My mother-in-law once told me that what she remembers most about that day was me. She said I looked so small and vulnerable on the bed in that big ultrasound room. I tried to be strong in that moment- maybe just optimistic. I’ve noticed that about myself- I’m always looking for a way to make things happen, even when I’m told they can’t. I just kept trying to tell myself that maybe the ultrasound tech was wrong. That once I saw my doctor she would be able to see whatever the tech couldn’t. If I were honest though, I think I knew that the life was gone. I had that sinking feeling since the beginning of the pregnancy. I prayed about it a lot, begging God to protect the life growing inside me. I pushed down the worries, thinking that buying maternity clothes and picking out names would magically change what I suspected might happen. As if we can DO anything to change what God has already written. That is, anything but pray.

The rest of March came and went in a blur of emotions. In some ways I feel like it flew by, in other ways it drug on and on. For the most part I guess I knew I was okay, but I wondered if I had really come to terms with my situation or if I was running from dealing with it. I guess both may be true.

It’s a funny thing about love and loss. There is hardly a day that goes by that I don’t think about the baby on that monitor screen. Not so much grieving the loss any more, these days I am mostly filled with questions:

Will I continue to have miscarriages or even be able to get pregnant again? Will I ever meet my little one? Know if I had a he or a she? Will I ever feel that baby in my arms, the way I now do with my sweet niece?

I’m sure that asking ten different professionals would yield ten different answers. And in a way, maybe the answers don’t really matter.

What matters is the journey through this time.

I surely cannot say that I am on the other end- but, I can say that the Lord is walking me through it.

And, while I don’t know all the ways He is working on me as a result of this experience, I know He is working. There is unbelievable comfort in that. He promises never to leave us or forsake us. He promises to work good for those who love him- making us more like Himself with ever step. Whatever the storm, whatever the situation, He is there and He is working.

There is no question in that.

Helping our children learn obedience

February 27, 2013 / Ben Reed / 7 Comments

When I was a kid, my parents gave me an allowance. A huge, mind-blowing amount of money that left me spoiled rotten.

$2.50.

image credit: CreationSwap user Flip Ologenau

Even when I was a kid, that wasn’t much money. I remember my friends getting $5 per week. And other friends getting $10 or $20 for every ‘A’ they got on their report card. That made my $2.50 look puny.

But I loved getting it, nonetheless. I’d have my eye on a new video game, or a Reds cap, or a GI Joe, and I’d stash my money away in my top drawer and watch it grow. Ever. So. Slowly.

Every week, my dad would give me two $1 bills and 2 quarters. “Son, do what you want with this. But this (he’d say, holding up a quarter) is to give back to God.”

See, tithing is difficult enough. So my parents made it a bit easier by giving me money in denominations that were easily broken into percentages.

10% of $2.50 is $.25. Boom.

I’d take my $.25 and stuff it in the offering envelope, seal that thing up, and away we’d go. It became a habit, a regular part of my life. I grew to have a healthy understanding of money, and living generously. It was easier to give because:

The money didn’t feel like it was “mine” that I’d earned or deserved…it had come straight from my dad’s hands.
It went straight from my hand to the offering envelope.

Because giving became a part of my life from such an early age, even when I was older, and making money “of my own,” giving to my church was an expectation I had of myself. It wasn’t, and isn’t, easy (in fact, I’ve found in my life that making more money doesn’t guarantee that generosity is easier). But it’s much easier than if it hadn’t been built into my life from an early age.

I’m convinced that one of the major roles of parenting is teaching our children to learn to obey God. Not in an overbearing, exasperating, constantly hard-nosed kind of way. But in a way that is full of grace, mercy, and truth.

Obedience is hard you too, right? Whether it comes to obeying God in your finances, in your marriage, in your job, with the amount of food you eat or the kind of media you consume, obedience at nearly every level is difficult. We’ve got an enemy that prowls around like a lion, ready to devour us. (1 Peter 5:8) The same is true for our children. So let’s make it as easy as we possibly can for our children to obey us (and, by proxy, God).

Obedience isn’t easy, so don’t make it harder than it has to be. When it comes to tithing, our greed and proclivity to covet makes obedience especially difficult. Let your children see how easy it can be to give, helping them develop good, God-honoring habits early on in their life.

It is true:

Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. – Ephesians 6:1

But parents, let’s do our part to make that as easy as possible. Don’t stop with financial obedience! Remove barriers, crack strongholds, and clear pathways in more and more areas of their lives.

Our children will thank us later.

Coffee

February 26, 2013 / Ben Reed / 0 Comments

If this video doesn’t make you want a steaming cup of coffee, I don’t know what will.

Ever had coffee brewed in a Chemex? It may just be the best way to drink coffee. Some might even say that’s how God intended it. 🙂