Is a divine activity. It’s what Jesus did. It’s what he sent the Spirit to do. It’s what disciples do.

Giving testimony is simply telling the truth. The truth of what you saw, what you heard, what you tasted, touched and smelled. The honest, unembellished description of your experience.

Sometimes, no matter what you do, no matter how impeccable your character is, no matter how much goodness you bring into the world, no matter how kind you are, no matter how much love you extend, no matter how much of your own being you selflessly give for the sake of others, someone may still hate you.

Maybe hate is too hyperbolic of a word. They’ll dislike you. Disregard you. Dismiss you. Overlook you. Ignore you. Miss you completely. Push you aside. Give you the cold shoulder. Give you the finger. Give you a piece of their mind. Or something other than the warm acceptance you had hoped for and maybe even deserved.

Heck, you could be Jesus Christ himself walking among them and get the same response. In fact, it’s the response he did receive, to a horribly violent end.

“A servant is not greater than his master.”

-Jesus

Which is to say, “You should expect people to treat you like they treated me.” Like Jesus, like disciple. As he goes on to explain, this can go one of two ways.

First, others may treat you poorly. They may persecute you, dismiss you, ignore you, cause trouble for you, or—as some of his disciples later found out the hard way—they may even kill you. We would do well to be aware of any inclination within ourselves to think that we are above suffering and looking like losers. Much of church leadership training, books, events, etc. tends to smack of an inevitable winner mentality? If God is for us, who can be against us, right? Wrong. There are likely to be many against you. So don’t be surprised or overly concerned.

Is foundational to human flourishing. According to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, “belonging and love” come in only right above “safety” and “physiological”. In short, we first must have our physical needs met (food, water, clothing, health and well-being). Then we must be safe (physically, emotionally, psychologically). And then—in order to support others like self-esteem, cognitive needs, aesthetic needs, and so on—we must have a firm sense of love and belonging.

Loved by someone. Belonging to someone. Loved by people. Belonging to a people.

Is a powerful word for most of us. We like to have our options as wide open as possible. We like to have autonomy in making decisions, in directing our path, in setting our own goals. If there’s one thing we can’t abide, it’s someone else making all of our choices for us.

On one hand, choice is indeed a gift from God. Yet another way in which we humans are created in the image of God, the one whose choices no one can veto. Free will is a family trait of those in the lineage of the Creator who willed all things into being.

On the other hand, Jesus looked at his disciples and said, “You did not choose me, but I chose you.”

Is really rather straight-forward, according to Jesus:

1. He lived by example, laying down his life for others. Friend and foe alike. Even before he went to the cross.
2. He instructed his followers verbally to do the same out of love for others. “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
3. He then related to his followers not as servants, but as friends. Not because they passed some litmus test, but because they truly opened their hearts to kingdom friendship.

Learning by mimicry is key to learning to do something well. Before you can get creative, you must master the basics by first observing someone else do them.

The child learns how to tie her shoes by watching her father tie his. The drummer learns how to do a fill by watching the veteran drummer. The newbie dancer learns steps by awkwardly shadowing his instructor. The student learns how to do math by watching the formula the teacher goes through on the whiteboard. The aspiring chef learns to cook by tasting the meals of masters. The non-native speaker learns a new language by listening and echoing native speakers.

When I think about obedience to commands. I suppose that betrays my gut assumption about what sort of person gives commands: Someone difficult to please, who is just setting up hoops to jump through, who is carefully screening my every move for every misstep that warrants correcting.

I fear failing. And there is no joy in fear. It’s rather miserable, honestly. And no teeth-gritting obedience will force the joy to bubble up to the surface. As long as the fear is there, it will stay bottled up.

I remember the orange trees in our neighbor’s yard. Up the hill from our house, too high to reach and too steep to climb. For most of the year I didn’t notice the trees. As a child, I wasn’t very impressed with simple green leaves. But then, when the season arrived, those bright orange globes would catch my eye from a block away. I can recall standing at the bottom of the hill, dreaming of how I might reach them. Somehow their unreachable height made them that much more desirous.

The amazing thing was that our neighbor with the orange trees was crippled. If I recall, he had fallen a far distance down while serving on a Navy ship, damaging his spine, and losing most of the use of his legs. He walked with two crutches with arm braces. I remember being dumbfounded that he could drive. And that he could tend his orange trees. He accomplished things and created beauty in ways beyond my understanding.

Is that a plant that is not bearing fruit is a waste of resources. Whether it’s literal fruit, or a berry, or a vegetable, or the simple beauty of a flower, if a plant is not fully doing what it was created to do, if it’s not living up to its full “plantness,” then what’s it all for?

It’s taking up space in the bed, it’s absorbing nutrients, it’s potentially blocking other plants from the sun, it’s taking up time and attention and energy from the gardener—and producing nothing in return. Take. Take. Take. Take. Take. No give.