Hello hello!
In case you hadn’t heard, in addition to running his financial planning business, my husband Trevor is a youth pastor. Together with our team of twelve volunteers, we get to spend time with the fifty-ish students of Temple Baptist Church in East Fort Worth. I could not love it more.
I love youth ministry. That’s a weird thing to put in writing, because when I read those words I’m not the person that pops into my own head. I’m not loud or especially extroverted. I do not know what the kids are into these days. I am not, as generations before me would say, hip to the jive. My answer to all night lock ins has been a hard no since I was young enough to attend them and youth pastors were still dumb enough to approve them. I am up for anything that is over by 10pm.
Old fogy that I am, teenagers fascinate me. Please never ask me to have any sort of spiritually meaningful conversation with your elementary student, but should you need someone to share a canoe with your seventeen-year-old for a week-long paddle down the river, sign me up. I don't even like rivers.
I was involved in some sort of youth ministry all the way through high school and college, and Trevor and I continued the streak as soon as we got married. I’ve worked with enough folks now to tell you with confidence and joy that our team of volunteers at Temple Student Ministries is second to none. They are humble, authentic, loving adults who take great pains and go to great lengths to give our teens a glimpse of the life-changing love of Jesus. And they aren’t martyrs about it! They show up week after week, they go to games and concerts and quinceañeras, they answer obscenely long, rambling texts, they learn the ENTIRELY FOREIGN dialects of Gen Z and Gen Alpha, all with joy and good humor.
I take all these paragraphs to brag on them because they deserve it, but also because they could use your help. If you’ve left your house recently you’ve noticed that normal life has gotten expensive. The bulk of our volunteers are teachers and small business owners with young families (hi!), or college students. Keeping the fridge stocked and the kids clothed is getting tricky. Add to that the annual cost to attend special student ministry events—things like kayaking, go karts, and summer camp—and you’ve got a shoestring budget on your hands.
Our church family provides generously so that no student ever misses an event due to cost. To protect those funds for the students who need them, each of our volunteers (us too!) is sending fundraising letters to family and friends outside our church family. The problem (and gift) is that most of our volunteers grew up locally. They are casting their nets with enthusiasm, they’re just working with pretty small nets.
That’s where you come in.
We are thrilled (like thank-God-every-time-I-turn-into-the-neighborhood thrilled) to have planted our roots in Texas soil, but we tumbleweeded our way across several states before landing here. We’ve met folks who loved us well in every one of those states. We both grew up in ministry families. Those roots have had decades to grow deep and fan out. We can cast a big net.
We want our volunteers to be free to enjoy their ministry without financial strain. If you’re able, I’m asking you to consider supporting them. They really are the best. Details like event dates, total cost, and how to give can all be found in the letter linked below. Thank you for caring.
If this is your first time reading The Paradox Paper, I don’t often begin by asking for money. The usual opener is a short blurb about life, followed by a fun GIF and we get right into the recs. Thanks for sticking it out through this part. Your readership is dear to me.
Welcome to The Paradox Paper, a monthly newsletter that honors the everyday paradox of a life with Jesus. If a friend forwarded you this email, click here to subscribe:
In this edition:
A book so good I hated it AND bought it for a friend
The Ted Lasso of reality TV
A short story about about prayer anxiety
A prayer borrowed from Jesus’ disciples
It Was An Ugly Couch Anyway by Elizabeth Passarella
I was thrilled to discover that, while a different story and overall feel, I loved this book just as much as the author’s first. Elizabeth Passarella has somehow figured out how to write essays about normal life that include her devout faith without sounding like the “walk the aisle” moment at the end of an old Baptist sermon. This new collection of essays covers grief, waiting, and fear with honesty and humor. There’s even a whole chapter on mothers-in-law. If you’ve ever felt so much as a tinge of awkwardness with your in-laws, that chapter alone is worth the price of the book. God help us all if we can’t laugh at ourselves.
Jury Duty
Imagine if you could get a behind-the-scenes look at a juror’s perspective of the United States judicial process without having to serve jury duty. Fascinating, yeah? That’s what Ronald Gladden thought when he signed up to be part of a documentary set to explore just that. He consented to be filmed and interviewed throughout the process of serving his time as juror for the benefit of future viewers. Just one small problem. It’s not a real documentary. Everyone besides Ronald—judge, fellow jurors, bailiffs, defendant, attorneys, security officers, EVERYONE—is a paid actor. This show was heartfelt and fascinating. We blew through it in a week, which was easy because the episodes are but a glorious 30 minutes. It’s free to watch on Freevee.
A foundational interpretation skill in reading is using the full scope of the text you’re dealing with to clarify the smaller details. When you come to the part in Harry Potter where he flies on a broomstick for the first time, you don’t say to yourself, “Now wait a minute, this contradicts the law of gravity as expounded by Isaac Newton in 1665.” Isaac Newton’s work is world-changing, but it’s useless if the world of Harry Potter is what you’re trying to understand. Instead you remind yourself of what you read at the beginning of the book—this is a fictional story set in a magical world where the normal rules of gravity don’t apply.
The same principle applies when we interpret Scripture. When we run across a detail that doesn’t make sense with the world as we experience it, we use the whole scope of Scripture to help us make sense of that detail. When two authors seem to be in conflict, God wins. The direct words of Yahweh don’t have to fit with Moses or David or Paul. Moses and David and Paul must fit with the words of Yahweh.
The great privilege of having a Bible professor for a dad means I’ve been taught these principles of interpretation for as long as I remember. Despite that, I’ve realized in the last few years that I’ve had a subtle but growing aversion to reading the Gospels—the accounts of Jesus’ ministry written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. I’ve avoided them because Jesus says some tricky things. The Apostle Paul might get flack for being too direct or bombastic, but at least most of the time you’re not left wondering what he thinks. It’s easy to find black and white do’s and don’ts in Paul’s writing.
Jesus, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to fit a mold. Just when you think you know how he feels about a certain behavior or belief or type of person, He turns around and does what seems like the very opposite. I’d gotten where I avoided reading His words because I couldn’t make them fit with the cut and dry style of Paul’s letters. Finally I realized I was getting it backwards. Jesus doesn’t have to fit with Paul. Paul has to fit with Jesus. He’s the beginning, the end, and the through line of the grand story of Scripture.
So for the past few years I’ve been reading the Gospels, going more slowly and asking more questions than I have before. Earlier this month I came across Jesus’ words to his disciples on prayer:
You can ask for anything in My name, and I will do it, so that the Son can bring glory to the Father. Yes, ask Me for anything in My name and I will do it.
— John 14:13, NLT
Objectively, that seems like the best of news! Yet whenever I come across that verse I only feel confusion and unease. So this time when I read it, I stopped to ask my questions.
I don’t really know what it means to ask for something (not something, anything) in Jesus’ name. I was taught that it meant “Ask for anything that Jesus would ask for,” or “Pray like Jesus would pray.” As if that clarifies it! Just make sure my prayers are perfect and divine, huh? Sounds simple.
It makes sense if I’m praying for something spiritual. “Help me be patient with my kids.” Obviously Jesus wants me to be patient with my kids because commands for parents to be patient with children are all over Scripture.
But most of my prayers aren’t like that. They’re about the nitty gritty of my real life. How can I know if what I’m asking for is “in Jesus’ name” when it’s something specific? How can I pray boldly and faithfully “in Jesus name” for a friend’s suffering to end or a baby to be born healthy or the children to please for the love of summer not catch Strep again, when I don’t know what Jesus is working toward? I know He always has a purpose in our suffering, and I never know what that purpose is, so how can I ask for the suffering to end with any confidence?
I am often afraid to pray for what I really want. I’m afraid what seems good to me is actually not good. In fairness, that has often been true. I can think of a few prayers that I thank God a minimum of once a week for NOT answering. But somewhere along the way the true knowledge that I don’t always know what’s best for me has twisted itself into a fear that I won’t pray “right.”
And what then?
Do I believe (really, do I?) that God will be mad if I pray a flawed prayer? Honestly, have any of my prayers ever been without flaw? Do I think God will get confused and accidentally do the wrong thing if my prayer isn’t just right? Do I think He’s that big of a dummy?
No, not really.
Maybe I just don’t trust Him to be good to me. Maybe I’ve forgotten how delighted He is when I share my heart. What if I stopped trying to pre-categorize my prayers and let Jesus worry about whether they’re “in His name,” or not. Maybe I could just ask for what I want in humility and faith, trusting Him to correct and shape those desires as needed. “For the glory of God, ask me for anything and I’ll give it to you,” are not the words of a bully.
Maybe “in Jesus name” is less about asking for what Jesus would ask for, and more about asking how Jesus would ask. Honestly. Humbly. Immediately. Repeatedly.
Hold the paradox. Don’t panic. See you next month!
-Steph
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