Request from Kris Smith

I have a special request for you and need as much help as I can get.

Back in the Fall, Ed Wharton came to talk to Pat and I and let us know that this would be his last AIM class to teach. He said that he is having to wind things down because of just having less energy than when he was younger. For me, this is the end of an era as far as AIM goes. Ed has been one of those teachers for AIM since almost the beginning in the early 70’s (over 35 yrs). Hundreds and hundreds of past AIM students have been blessed by his classes and have probably used what they learned in his class for years afterward.

With that in mind we want to do something special to honor Ed at this upcoming AIM graduation in March (during Camp Adventure). We want to put together a book filled with quotes from previous AIMers with comments about what he and his classes have meant to them.

I would also like to fill it with pictures of Ed through the years with AIMers so if you have ANY pictures of you with Ed or Ed with your class, etc. please send them to the AIM office email at: aim@sibi.cc and try to make them as high resolution as you can.

Because I will have to get this book made and printed, we will need these things as soon as possible, hopefully within the next week so please, please look and see if you have pictures as well as send in a few comments that we can fill this book with for Ed to have in his home and be encouraged by the results of all of those years of teaching AIM students!!

The next challenge is to keep this quiet so Ed doesn’t know and is surprised at Graduation when we present this to him so please don’t put anything on facebook, etc. about it.

So, if your life has been blessed by Ed and his classes, please send us your encouragement for him to include in this book.

-Kris Smith

The Audacity of Hope-lessness

Audacity— n 1. recklessly bold or daring; fearless 2. impudent or presumptuous

I like the word audacity. It’s one of those brutal words. When applied to other people’s behavior, just saying it makes you feel a little outraged. Try it sometime. After you hear something that someone has done that you wouldn’t have done, add “The audacity”. It is linguistic outrage; pure complainers bliss.

Anyway, I have recently encountered a lot of people that will make statements like, “this church will never get it” or “my life is going nowhere”. Maybe you’ve heard yourself say this one: “things will never be as good as they were in Mexico or Ecuador or Scotland or…”. I think we all have had these types of thoughts. It occurred to me recently that when I say this I mean it to be a declaration of my helplessness to do anything about it, but that is really not what I’m saying. What I’m really saying is this, “In my superior wisdom, that comes from all my combined experiences and perceptions, and with my ability to know all things about the future, I declare that ___________________ will never improve. Therefore I am hopeless about it and will stop trying, praying or believing.” When you really think about it, that is truly audacious. It is the audacity of hopelessness.

The thing I believe we often miss when reading the stories of our spiritual ancestors, like Moses or Deborah, is that they were constantly led into situations that seemed hopeless. We, of course, often have God’s bird’s eye view so we don’t perceive it in this way, but from their vantage point it was hopeless. The problem with hopelessness is that once you declare something you stop hoping. I know that is obvious, but hope is the God-given promise that whatever it is that you are focusing on will improve. By declaring hopelessness you dis-invite God from using you to affect that situation. God will still do what He wants, but you cut yourself out of the loop and therefore miss out on the blessing. This is not to say that you have to stay in every bad situation. God sometimes uses bad situations to move us in new directions, but we still need to have hope towards that situation.

Our goal, despite any frustrations we have or circumstances we may find ourselves in, is to anchor ourselves in God’s hope. My prayer for all of us is this: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

- Jason Thornton

By His Wounds We Are Healed

I think that we all carry with us certain wounds that just don't seem to heal. Some wounds are created quickly by people we love, who hurt us in a momentary lapse of judgment. Other wounds are the result of great time and effort, as pain gradually and deeply scars us to our very core. Some wounds we move past and forget. Other wounds we never really get over. However, there is one thing that all wounds have in common. All wounds result in some level of pain.




What if there was someone to heal our wounds? Someone to re-lance them and force them to heal properly. Someone able to remove the infection, restore good feeling, and bring back life again. What would you call such a physician? "Great."

Today we come to him, asking for healing. Today we cast him our burdens and cares. We show him our wounds and we remember. By his wounds, we are healed.

- Chris Johnson

A plea from the heart of a lady back home

So, maybe you’ve been back home from the mission field for a long time. Maybe you just stepped off of the plane a few days ago. Or maybe, you’ve already moved on to a different field or town or country.

Whatever your current residency status, at some point or another, you certainly have visited your home congregation. And it certainly was difficult, at least to some degree.

Let me tell you about a conversation I had with a lady from my home congregation recently. The church I grew up attending is somewhat of an AIMer factory, and lots of ex-AIMers, even those who aren’t originally from my hometown, find themselves planted there. And yet, lots of ex-AIMers have found themselves back home, but are not planted there at all. The lady I was talking with expressed her pain over this. “I’m not saying I expect everyone to call our church home again – I’m not expecting anything from them at all, actually. I just want them to come and say hi at least. I want them to let me love them and hug their necks again, even if they’ve moved on to different things. I think we deserve that at least.”

This was really enlightening to me and got me thinking. I know not everyone has such an understanding home church, but I can bet you that there is at least someone back home who wants to try to understand, who wants to just hug you and remind you that you are loved. Maybe they won’t connect with every story you have to share. Maybe you won’t ever feel at home in such a big (or small) congregation, who sings so differently or is set up so differently or “isn’t as intimate” or “isn’t as involved.”

But you know what? If it weren’t for those people that we can be so quick to judge in our self-righteous "missionary" attitudes, we wouldn’t have had the chance to be a missionary in the first place. Really, we may not have even known Christ at all if it weren’t for those preachers, those youth ministers, those elders, those peers, those parents, those little old ladies that raised us and participated in our early Christian days.

It isn't wrong to move on to something different, whether that be a different city or even a house church or another congregation in your own hometown. But please, as this lady from my church said, at least give them the chance to love you. Give them the chance to hear how you appreciate them (and if you don’t appreciate them, maybe pray about that first). They’re not perfect, but I know you know, neither are we. And it shouldn’t be “us and them” in the first place because we're all one body. So please, let us stop giving missionaries a bad name and be humble enough to remember our roots and love one another.

“Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor.” – Romans 12:10

Love,

Brettin White

Would you attend AIMAPALOOZA MALIBU?

Every year we hear Alumni tell us, "You should do an AIMAPALOOZA" at the Pepperdine Lectureships in May. Well, we've started listening to what you are saying.

We want to know, would you attend a West Coast Aimapalooza if it were Thursday evening during the Pepperdine Lectures? If so, let us know. We'd love to put one together! We could use your help!

Contact Chris Johnson, Jason Thornton, or Joe Tipps on Facebook if you'd like to be involved with Aimapalooza Malibu.

Go do!

I remember the first few days of AIM. I was astonished at the lack of sinful people around me. I considered leaving because I didn’t think I would ever be like them. I thought they would find me out for who I was, and soon. But when I thought of actually going home to explain why I quit to my supporters, that seemed even worse than staying. I mean, what was I going to say? Mr. Elder, it was terrible. I decided to quit because they were all so “holy.”

For the first few weeks, I only focused on not doing anything wrong. It was hard at first, but that AIM bubble helped me make it though some tough spots. After a few weeks I got better at it, and after a few months I was doing great - not the greatest AIMer ever at this point, but light years from where I was on that first day. Then I got to the field, and things were wonderful: I was teaching, preaching, getting involved in people’s lives, and I was even lucky enough to dunk a few. By the way, I’m the greatest baptizer in the world. Years of having a swimming pool in the back yard and 2 younger brothers will do wonders for your dunking arm.

Then I came home. Wow. Things were different. I was no longer the missionary. Once the dust settled, I had few responsibilities at church. People didn’t seem to be interested in what I had to say like they did in South Africa just because I was an American, go figure. I started to get bored with going to church. I started making excuses to myself about why I didn’t have time to evangelize, or study my bible, or even be kind to someone who needed it. I remembered what things were like before I left, and I tried to fit back into that routine because it felt safe. Before long reverse culture shock set in and I was just trying to make it through the day, just trying to make it through life, and hoping to make it through to eternity. It was terrible.

It didn’t hit me at the time, but, spiritually, I was moving backward. I was back to just trying to not do anything wrong again, and I had buried my talent. My reverse culture shock didn’t come from missing South Africa, like I thought at the time; it was from missing the lifestyle of sold out service for the Lord.

In the book If Only, Dr. Neal Roese describes the 2 kinds of regret. First is the regret of action, or the sins of commission. Second is the regret of inaction, or the sin of omission. I think we all struggle with this regret of inaction.

I don’t know what’s in your life exactly, but I’ve never done those terrible sins that you hear about. I’ve never committed murder, I’ve never committed adultery, and I’ve never stolen someone’s life savings. Yes, I have done things that I wish I hadn't done. But for me, my biggest regrets aren’t what I have done, but the things that I was too big of a coward to do. There would be something that I knew I needed to do, something the Lord had placed on my heart to get accomplished, but I wouldn’t do anything.

The church has been fixated on the sins of commission. We have these long lists of don’ts. Our attitude has been of spiritual maturity by subtraction. In other words, if I don’t do this list of sins for 20, 30, 40, 50 years then I will become spiritually mature.

Mark Batterson writes in his book, In a Pit With a Lion On a Snowy Day, that when you think about it, spiritual maturity should be by multiplication. Goodness is not the absence of badness. We can’t do enough nothings, we can’t subtract enough, and we certainly can’t just run away from sin in order to become spiritually mature. Our calling is much higher than to simply step away from what’s wrong. Yes, keeping sin at bay is part of it, but not all. You can do nothing wrong, and still do nothing right. Trying to live a life without sin while neglecting works of service is deadly to your soul.

The reason that ruler in Matthew 25 was so upset with the wicked servant for burying the talent is because that was the only sure fire way to accomplish absolutely nothing. When we bury our talent it’s no wonder Christianity is boring to us, and this lifestyle is not attractive to people watching us, because it’s just a list of things not to do. It doesn’t get the blood pumping.

To one extent or another we all know this to be true, maybe we just haven’t put it in words yet. Think about it. If you were at work and at the end of the day your boss came in and asked what you got done that day, if you said, "Nothing, not a thing. But I didn’t hurt the company either, so we’re good," what would he say? James says, "Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by what I do."

We fill our days with things that in the grand scheme of life and eternity mean very little, and then we make excuses and say that we don’t have time to serve the Lord. But when we make the realization that acts of service to the Lord is one of the few things in the cosmos that does actually matter, we free ourselves from the lie that doing nothing wrong is enough. So the next time you think to yourself, I really should go talk to my brother about the gospel, or the next time God puts someone in your path to show kindness to, when you feel that blood pumping in your veins, GO DO IT. Look for those God-ordained opportunities in your life, and dig up your talent. Start changing your lifestyle back into that sold-out service for the Lord. That’s when the Lord will say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

Jeremy “Tigger” Vass

Who will go first?

"We tell lies when we are afraid... afraid of what we don't know, afraid of what others will think, afraid of what will be found out about us. But every time we tell a lie, the thing that we fear grows stronger." - Tad Williams

I’m in a missions program. I have people paying me to be on the field. I am working with a church and working for God daily. Shouldn’t I be immune to mistakes? Shouldn’t I be stronger than this? Shouldn’t I have more integrity?

These are just a few of the thoughts I remember thinking when I was on the field. Somehow the label “AIMer” was supposed to make me perfect. Imagine my surprise when I started messing up. I couldn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t ask for help. I couldn’t admit that I was losing control.

The word integrity runs through my head. What I do when no one will ever know or see - that’s who I really am. Paul, even when in prison, rejoiced. He didn’t curse God. He didn’t blame God. He didn’t use his circumstance as an excuse to sin. He had integrity. Yet here I sit in a foreign land, a beautiful place, not a prison, and I want to run from God in embarrassment. I want to find comfort wherever I can.

When asked how I’m doing or asked what’s wrong, I lie. I lie because I’m afraid. I lie because I don’t know how others will react or what they will think. Every time I lie, the fear grows stronger. The chance of me talking about this becomes smaller and smaller.

Someone has to go first. Someone has to be willing to admit the struggle.

I worship at a place where we try to be real - no Sunday School answers, just reality. I see it over and over. Once someone goes beyond the surface and admits something tough, hands begin to go up, and one by one people say, "Me too… I’ve done that… I thought I was the only one."

Someone has to go first. Someone has to be willing to admit the struggle.

About 5 or 6 years after I returned from the field I began to actually be honest. I began to go beyond the surface and talk about my experience and my mistakes. I reached a point where I was no longer afraid of the reactions. The reactions couldn’t hurt as bad as the secrets. It was worth taking a chance. Once I told someone, once I went first, I found out what I should have known all along: I was never alone. I was never the only one.

I thank God for lessons learned. I thank God that He keeps growing something in me that is bigger than the fears that keep me down. Something bigger than depression, addiction, divorce, fear, insecurity, doubt. Whatever the struggle, whatever the fear, He is bigger.

"This is how we know that we belong to the truth and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence: If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. Dear friends, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God and receive from him anything we ask, because we keep his commands and do what pleases him. And this is his command: to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commanded us. The one who keeps God’s commands lives in him, and he in them. And this is how we know that he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us." - 1 John 3:19-24

Take confidence in this thought. It is true!

And please, find someone to talk to. Be willing to go first.

-Paige Foreman