Impel Retreat 2007 Photos

from Kit House & Alicia Gunn

Everyone Gets Somewhere In Life…

by Micah Osborne

No one starts a road trip without deciding on a destination. Most of us however live life without ever deciding on a destination. I just finished reading “Visioneering” by Andy Stanley where he states that “Everyone ends up somewhere in life. A few people end up somewhere on purpose.” One of the steps to getting somewhere on purpose is finding where there is. While reading Visioneering I realized I do not have a clear picture of where “there” is in, my relationship with Christ, my marriage, my family, my career and so on. In the book, Andy explains that a “Vision is a clear mental picture of what could be, fueled by the conviction that it should be.” Without that clear picture or destination in mind I am adrift to the whims of today, unable to move directly toward what could and should be in my life.

In “Visioneering: God’s Blueprint for Developing and Maintaining Vision,” Andy Stanley uses the story of Nehemiah and the rebuilding of the wall around Jerusalem to illustrate how a God-given vision is born and then executed to completion.

This book has had a profound impact on my life as I have been thinking and praying through what could and should be in my life.

Financial Demons and Polka Dot Dresses

by Heather Myer

A financial demon lured me into Banana Republic. At least that is what I later told myself. I was quite innocently window shopping at Battlefield Mall, when a polka-dot dress caught my eye. Pushing aside all promises of faithful budgeting, I tiptoed into the store. Soon, I was in a dressing room modeling my prize. The pattern was cut from the sixties and exactly the perfect length for my tall stature. Swirling before the mirror, I grinned to think what my mother would say if she knew my intent to splurge.

“Where exactly would you wear that?” Mum would ask.

“Where wouldn’t I wear it?” I would cheekily retort.

“That is the same cost as your car payment. You’ll have no one to blame but yourself if you have to eat Ramen Noodles for the rest of the month.” Mum would counter.

I faltered. $168 was one third of my rent. Years after graduating college, when shopping at the Dollar Tree was a luxury, I still had not upgraded from Special Kitty to Tidy Cat nor from Purex to Tide. Always Save and Best Choice have been my close companions for many years. We have a tight relationship. This is largely due to my Mother‘s lessons in thrift.

“Yes, but Mum! It is just like Julia Robert’s dress in Pretty Woman!” I pointlessly argued as I kicked my heel back to further admire the full skirt. Pretty Woman, a beloved ninety’s classic, was a story of transformation. Richard Gere’s character fell in love with Julia’s, despite her past as a woman of ill-repute. Edward Lewis taught Vivian Ward that she was a lady of worth and great value.

Sighing, I knew the dress was never meant to be mine. This lesson was one I had already learned, for I am a daughter of the King. I have inherent honor, value, worth, and a responsibility. Frowning, I slipped out of the dress. How could I justify $168 frivolous dollars when I am merely the steward of God’s treasury? God gave and he could easily take away. With the same money, I could tithe more effectively, donate to missions more generously, or anonymously help some of the struggling single mothers at work. Just the day before, a care package fundraiser from the Navy arrived in the mail. It contained a picture of a sailor doubled over, his face screwed up tight, his hands balled into fists, crying in agony. The caption said, “This sailor has not received a care package in a very long time. Won’t you please help?” Though I could not doubt the sailor’s pain, I very much questioned its cause. It was doubtful that a box of Little Debbie Cakes, Mad Libs, and Entertainment Weekly could even begin to comfort his distress. All the same, care packages for our milita in Iraq was a much worthier way to spend my pay check than on the pretty dotted garment that hung forlornly on the clothing rack.

Desperately wishing that giving was not the strongest of my spiritual gifts, I left Banana Republic. Later, at Wal-mart, I slipped a Denise Austin DVD among my Sam’s Choice soup cans and Great Value milk. Every now and again, a girl needs to splurge.

Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms. —1 Peter 4:10

----- Dress photo source Pretty Woman photo source

Baptists, Pentecostals, and Catholics—Oh My!

by Donovan Dobbs

How important are denominations in our lives as Christ-followers? I go to such and such church, so I am fine, right? We recently had Explore LifePoint, and in this session, there were three couples who were very interested in LifePoint. The question was asked "Are you affiliated with any denomination?" Lane aptly and with some brevity (emphasis on some), explained how LifePoint is not connected to a denomination.

Whether denominations are good or bad has been debated for centuries, and I am sure will continue to be debated. There is substantial evidence either way. Why wouldn't you want to go to a church that isn't affiliated with a particular denomination? I do not have the time or space to fully debate that question but I do want to point a few things out that may shed some light on the issue. If you want to compare the many denominations check out the religion comparison charts on ReligionFacts.com.

I cannot find any Scripture where Jesus spoke of denominations or different sub-groups of his followers. He said he was the only way to God (John 14:6). After his death and resurrection, his followers were called the Way (Acts 9:2). The Way was used because Christ was the way to God. This was not a denomination or viewed as a sect of the Jewish faith. It was a term used to identify Christ-followers' beliefs. Followers of Christ were also called Christians from the very beginning of the church. The term is used three times in the Bible (Acts 11:26; 26:28; 1 Peter 4:16), originally meant "of the party of Christ" and was used as derision to Christ-followers. Eventually the term became a term of honor for followers of Christ. Unfortunately in the present time, being labeled a "Christian" has lost its meaning and has to some degree reverted to its roots.

Here at LifePoint, we are called to be Christ-followers. This is not a denotation of denomination but a term defining who and what we are. From my reading of the Bible, I have always thought that is what I was to do. When I first heard Lane use that term, I knew that I was in the right place. Nineteen times Jesus told his disciples (us) to follow him (Matthew 4:19; 8:22; 9:9; 16:24; 19:21; Mark 1:17; 2:14; 8:34; 10:21; Luke 5:27; 9:23; 9:59; 18:22; John 1:43; 10:27; 13:36; 12:26; 21:19; 21:22). If Jesus called us to "follow me" then should we not do that? I am positive that when I stand before God one day, he will not ask me if I was Baptist, Catholic, Pentecostal, or some other denomination. He will ask "Did you follow my son?" I want my answer to be "I followed Jesus Christ, nothing more and nothing less." What will your answer be? Is there anything else?

Defining Our Context

by Jon Goings

Dennis and I recently attended a conference on worship. There were so many things taught and discussed I feel like my brain is about to explode. I may have to sit down with the podcasts, re-listen to everything, and digest what I took in. I will say that God had a lot to say, and now all I can do is pray that God will work a little Isaiah 55:10-11 in my life.

So what do I mean by "Defining our Context"? A lot was made about putting the text into our context. The "text" being the Word of God. Our "context" being where we do life.

For several months I've been wrestling with trying to figure out my context.

This area of the country is often referred to as "The Buckle of the Bible Belt." I disagree. This seems to indicate that we have things together. This seems to indicate we have a good handle on the things of God. This seems to indicate God can rely on us to keep things up.

This seems to be an inaccurate assessment.

I would consider this part of the map "The Kiddie Pool of the Kingdom." The most interesting thing about the kiddie pool is that it is very difficult to make a distinction between the urine and the water. It all looks the same. Everything is so saturated by "Christianity" in this area ( i.e. the chemicals that keep the pool looking pretty) that it's real easy for people to exist without feeling like there is anything wrong.

How do we stop concerning ourselves with looking pretty and start worrying about Revelation 3:15-16?

Changes Coming to What Is the Point?!

As Jon and Kit start focusing more of their time on the WITP? podcast, their other LifePoint activities, and their actual lives, we'll be hearing from them less here on the blog. Instead, we have some new contributors who will be writing feature articles about LPC activities and who will be writing weekly posts. (You'll get full introductions to our new contributors soon.)

We're also starting to use WITP? as a place to post photos of LPC events. In the coming weeks, we'll be posting photography from both recent events and our archives (some of you have never seen the pictures from the building's initial remodel). If you have photos you'd like to share, contact Sarah Austin, the WITP? moderator for sharing instructions.

One last thing...WITP? will be getting a new look in the next few weeks, so if things start to look weird around here, don't fret; they'll return to normal soon.

Greeting the Dawn

by Heather Myer

Physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come. --1 Timothy 4:8

Sound, comfortable sleep was broken by the unceasing cry of three alarm clocks. Groaning, I rolled over and slapped at the various squawking contraptions. I must not be late. Slipping into my shoes, I carelessly tossed my hair up and grabbed a glass of water before leaving my comfortable home. It was only 5:40 in the morning. The sun had not yet graced the horizon and I was preparing for a 7 mile jog through Springfield. Most sane citizens remained asleep in their beds. Fighting the tempting thought, I pulled away in my car towards the Green Way Trails.

Arriving at Sequiota Park, I joined sleepy joggers as they ambled around, trying to their shake heads free of lingering dreams. Three familiar figures waved me over. Sarah, Linden, and Alison greeted me cheerfully as they stretched at a large rock. Murmuring greetings, we fell in with the group of runners and awaited our instructions. Not paying close attention, I tightened my shoe laces and pocketed a power gel. The twists and turns of the course were hard for me to comprehend before a decent cup of coffee. Two months of early morning runs had taught me this. Sarah and Linden would accurately remember the details down to the last tenth of a mile. Alison and I would follow. We gathered with the half marathoners and began our trek.

The sun was now peaking in the sky. The landscape, once cloaked in black and gray, was at last clarified by color. A cool breeze encouraged us up the sloped course. I cherished the wind. It would not last for long. Birds began to sing in the glen. Nature was arising and so were we. The lane was covered by a canopy of trees, marked by ivy, marigolds, queen anne’s lace, morning glories, and bordered by a tall meadow. Mist clung to the tops of sun flowers and the tall grass. Concentrating on the meadow, I daydreamed of climbing through the grassy maze to an adventure of epic proportion. Leaving behind my routine job and daily duties in trade for a new kingdom and a mission. Before I could brandish my sword and clasp on my cloak, Sarah called to me, “Come on, Heather! We’re almost to the water stop!“ My reverie was broken. I concentrated on the task at hand.

We wove through the course as an accordion. The four of us ran side by side when possible, and in single file line when bicyclists or speedier runners threatened our peaceful morning with a collision. My muscles groaned in protest and my breath became rhythmic to match our pace. It would take around three miles before the pain in my side would pass. Sarah and Linden led the way. Alison and I followed. Alison bounded in place beside me with more energy than I could muster, her paced slowed to accommodate mine. We spoke of the Lord’s provision for our families. We shared of how God had revealed himself to us over the previous week. Linden had been blessed by an opportunity to teach English in Germany and was preparing to move. Alison was pursuing medical mission opportunities abroad. Sarah and Linden had recently finished graduate school and were working on thesis projects. Sarah had been blessed by a new position at work, as Assistant to the Elders. Listening to my companions share their hopes and dreams, I praised God for the blessings he had provided. On our long runs, we analyzed the deeper theological meanings of Harry Potter, Bodies’ exhibits, and space monkey polls, and six degrees of separation with Kevin Bacon. We motivated each other with thoughts of cinnamon toast and watermelon soup as rewards. Our feet fell into a rhythm as we shared our hopes, dreams, and blessings with each other.

As the miles wore on, the four of us shouted encouragements at one another and by-passers. “Come on, Linden!” Sarah would cry. “Way to book it, Alison!” Linden called out. “Good morning!” Alison greeted a lady walking her dogs. “Just a little further…just 3 more miles!” I cried, adding to the excitement. Knowing that 4 miles were tucked under the proverbial hydration belt, allowed a certain understanding that the last 3 could easily come in stride.

As the run progressed, our pace slowed and our speech ceased. Talking wasted too much energy. Alison’s bounding was subdued, her energy ebbed by the distance of our run. The sun had risen to its full glory and beat mercilessly upon our brows. The breeze that once welcomed our journey now opposed us and slowed our pace. The very hills that we had sped down earlier now rose against us. My feet dragged, and my muscles protested further movement. “Just one more mile!” Alison chimed. One more mile. What was that when 6 were behind us? Suddenly, we all began speaking encouragements to each other, prodding ourselves forward. The speech that had robbed our energy earlier were now all that kept us going. “Come on ladies!” Half a mile was all that was left. Shouting encouragements over our shoulders, we broke into a full run and sprinted as quickly as we could to the finish line.

Joyful that we had completed our exertion, we served each other water and Gatorade. After, we returned to the stretching rock for a cool down. Our bodies were strengthened by the run and our fellowship was strengthened by our encouragements. Raising my face towards the sun, I silently praised God for providing me with the chance to greet the dawn.

-----
Photo by Sarah Austin

The Ride (Finale or Finally)

Act III: Aww yeah...that's it.

Jon lifted his bike onto the rack attached to Fritz's trunk.

"That was a great ride," he thought.

The End

I was thinking about Matthew 14. Whether I'm enjoying the feast, or I'm frightened by the storm...JESUS IS MIRACULOUS! Time and time again God has shown me that regardless of my circumstance he never changes. I think this is why we see David dancing before him in a joyous celebration, and why we find Paul singing praises and preaching the word in prison. He is worthy because of who he is...not because of what's happening on the hills of Springzark. How can we praise him during the good and bad times? Because as Romans 8:28 infers...

It is a great ride.

Now if you will all join me and Mister Neil Diamond:

God of my want, want, want
Lord of my need, need, need
Leading me on, on, on
God of my day, day, day
Lord of my night, night, night
Seek for the way, way, way
Taking me home

Warning: Egos of Kit & Jon May Soon Blow Through the Roof

The word is out about What Is the Point?! This week the Christian County Headliner published a profile of our own Kit and Jon and their What Is the Point? podcast.

Here's a bit to get you started:

It seems like everything these days is going high tech from music to lunch menus, and now even churches. Two members of the Life Point Church in Ozark have helped take their church to the next tech savvy level by producing a podcast each week.

Church members Jonathan Goings and Kit House star in and produce the weekly variety podcast from Goings' home.

A podcast is similar to a radio broadcast, but with one catch--it's never broadcast. Musicians, talk show hosts or anyone can record a segment and then upload it to the iTunes Web site on the Internet where anyone worldwide can download it, much like any song.

Full Article

Too Busy to Serve?

If you’ve ever had a to-do list show up on your refrigerator, you probably thought one of two things: “I wonder how my spouse/parent/roommate lost his/her to-do list and how it ended up on the refrigerator?” (This is what you thought if you were unwittingly on the verge of apartment hunting) or “I’d better chose one of these to work on before someone chooses for me.”

Last weekend, our church published its servant guide again. It’s a brief document that outlines all the fun ways to get involved with the church, like explaining the book of Job to college students or cleaning Saran Wrap and lip gloss off your car. The servant guide is a little subtler, while I am a little more honest. I’m on church service like ants on Pixie Stix (I’m also on Pixie Stix like ants on Pixie Stix). Teaching? Sounds fun! Leading a community group? I’ll help! Writing and recording? I’ll try it! In fact, I’m the worst at overextending myself. But this isn’t about me – it’s about you.

People are busy. At least, American people are. If I ask you what your daily commute to work is and you say “15 or 30 minutes,” you’re probably not that busy. If you say “21 minutes with lights, traffic, cops, and God willing,” you’re a busy person. Most people I know fall into the latter category. And in such a busy culture, a church that actually prints a guide for committing time to service must have some big brass bells in its steeple.

I’ve struggled with the amount of time I give in service to my church, and here’s what I’ve decided. If I don’t want to do it, I’m not going to do it. If I sign up to wrangle preteens for 3 hours a week and I hate it (which I don’t, but we’re speaking hypothetically here), what I’m really doing is contributing to hypocrisy in the church. I’m really building a Kingdom of Kit, not a Kingdom of Heaven. I’m really wasting my time. I think of Jesus saying “Anyone who puts his hand to the plow and still looks back isn’t fit for service in God’s Kingdom.” (Luke 9:62)

But if I agree to teach VBS for four straight nights and I find joy in that, even though I have to inhale dinner and essentially work 12-hour days for 8-hour pay, then I feel like the Kingdom of Heaven is close at hand. I have a picture from VBS by my work computer right now: Five students, one teacher, and me. In the picture, I’m tired, I’m soaking wet from a water fight, and I’m happy. My life is meaningful in that picture.

If you’re thinking about serving at you’re church, whether that church is LifePoint or First Methodist Kalamazoo, I encourage you to check out Lane’s sermon from August 26 on LifePoint’s website. Consider the cost, consider the value, and act accordingly.

--Kit