AboutConnect with Michael Archive RSS

Michael Hindes

Kingdom Living in a Post-Modern World
Michael Hindes
One Great Wife!
Three Wonderful Sons!
Passionate about Leadership & Discipleship...
Overwhelmed by GRACE!!!
Learn more about me »

Check out my current church project: The Gathering

Support me

Subscribe to my Blog

Subscribe via RSS

  • February 24, 2012 10:00 am

    Be the Hands and Feet of the Kingdom’s Expansion

    This week’s guest post is written by Matt Snyder - enjoy…

    ________________________________________________________________

    Sometimes I don’t feel like I realize the boldness in what I pray, and then there are other times that I do and I start to sweat because I realize the brunt of what I’m praying.

    When I worked at AIM, nearly every Monday morning I stood in the office with the rest of the staff and we worshipped. After worship we’d stand together and declare truths over our lives, things like, “I will walk in ever-increasing health; I have ideas and divine strategies; I will uproariously laugh when I hear a lie from the devil; etc.”.

    Those are great things to declare – seriously.

    But then we declared other things like, “today I will have divine appointments to heal the sick, raise the dead, prophesy life, to lead people to Christ, and to bless every place that I go.”

    That’s a pretty hefty statement.

    And I have to admit that I hadn’t really given it too much thought until I asked myself if those words were escaping my heart also.

    In praying/declaring something like that, I can’t expect that all of these divine appointments are going to land in my lap, right? I mean, I suppose that they could, but by me declaring these things to be, I’m also “prophesying” that I’m going to get outside of my comfort zone and step into someplace new.

    I don’t always want to do that because I have a routine to my day and I absolutely hate disturbing my routine. I wake up, spend time with Jesus, work, eat lunch, work some more, think about working out, work a little more, eat dinner, hang out, call my girlfriend, and go to bed.

    Excuse me, Jesus, but I don’t see where I can fit others into my schedule conveniently!

    It’s a terrible attitude to have, but I don’t think I’m the only person with it. I see it reflected in the Church at large. We’ve conveniently put up safeguards to protect us from having to truly demonstrate compassion-in-action, from giving the world an encounter with the awesome power of God’s love.

    We surround ourselves with Christians who “have it all together” and talk about the world “out there”. We never truly penetrate it – we just talk about it.

    We’re a bunch of fakes.

    If I’m declaring that I’m going to heal the sick, raise the dead, prophesy life, lead people to Christ, and to bless every place… I might have to go hunt some of that down. I have to reach my hands out and touch people – people I don’t know – and minister to them. I’ve got to be the hands and feet of the Kingdom’s expansion.

    And maybe the reason why I don’t declare those things every day is that I don’t want to get over myself long enough to love outside of myself. Maybe that’s the problem.

    Can we change something? Let’s begin prophesying from the heart. Let’s stop talking about healing the sick and just do it already. Let’s stop thinking about living prophetically and just freakin’ live prophetically NOW! And the next time you’re somewhere uncomfortable, make yourself at home by ushering in the Kingdom of God around you.

     

  • February 16, 2012 12:09 pm

    God’s Inaudible Mumblings

    Today’s guest posting is from Jacob Hoyer.  He and his wife Erin are crowd favorites in our community.  Although we were all sad to see them move away, we are confident that they are following the voice of the Father.

    ________________________________________

              

    It’s been a little over a month since Erin and I moved to Florida.  About five weeks.  I keep telling people, “It’s a whole new adventure”. 

    It’s been a blast.  But that doesn’t mean it’s been fun.  The last people to rent our house owned a cat that smoked.  We had to scrub all the walls, paint them, and put out bowls of vinegar to get rid of the smell.  We saved a good bit of money in anticipation of the transition, but we learned there’s just no way to project the cost of a move.  Despite all that.  Despite the fact we’ve been stretched beyond ourselves in this transition, we lay our heads on the back of our couch at the end of the day with the deep conviction that we are where we’re supposed to be.

    We know that this is the time and this is the place.  We know even though, in the whole decision-making and transition processes, God never said “Florida”.

    I know a lot of folks who are waiting on a word from the Lord to make their next move.  I’m glad I’m a part of a generation that follows the leading of the Spirit.  Where it gets tough for me is that I’ve never seen a bush burn and not be consumed.  I’ve never found a ram in the thicket, and I’ve never been swallowed by a large fish.  God’s just never been that explicit in my life.

    Before we made our move to Florida, God told me I was a leader.  He told me I was called to empower others.  He showed me that my identity is tied up in my inheritance and that I needed to serve someone else’s dream.

    And God told me it was time to get out of where I had been.

    Erin and I are definitely on the same page now, but we first decided to come here because I believed I needed to serve my dad in the church he planted the year before I was born. My dad is the forebear of my inheritance.  My being the man and the minister I am today is directly attributable to his being the man and the minister he’s been all his life.

    In the middle of 2011 I asked my dad, “How can I help make your dreams happen?”.  He told me to come to Florida to work for him.  It fit.

    I’m learning to be a whole new kind of leader (God told me I was a leader).  I’m growing into the opportunity to empower others within my new organization (God told me I would empower others).  I’m serving my dad, the placeholder of my inheritance (God spoke of my inheritance and my need to serve someone else’s dream).

    Hindsight might tell us something different, but I think we rarely hear God clearly.  What we forget is that even God’s inaudible mumblings are the Words of Life.

    I’ve spent the last three years honing in on a clearer picture of who I am in Christ.  He’s shown me the wholeness of my identity and begun to reveal the expanses of how I’m called to minister.  When it was time to move, I found a path that allowed me to be that to the full.  From there on out it was up to me to make it happen.  And the Lord’s been blessing it every step of the way.

  • February 3, 2012 9:03 am

    Mature for My Age

    Today my oldest son, Nicholas, is guest posting. Real as always, Nicholas shares openly about his struggle to reach acceptance, maturation, and sonship.


    I’ve shared my story. Or really, a few chapters of my story. The quest for sonship/adoption from the Father was a fight. It was a struggle to move past individuals who, at various intervals, succeeded in impeding my attempts to achieve adoption. It sounds harsh. Well, it was harsh. I cannot apologize for the tone used here. This is my story. I am sticking to it.


    This quest for sonship and adoption caused me to grow up. That is such a generality. I have felt so often that I was robbed of my youth. I lost my innocence. I lost all hope at being average, of this sense of normalcy. It crumbled into dust at my feet. At twelve, I had an effervescent spotlight cast upon me highlighting every single movement and action I took. I stood out on the front stage, alone and watched by the glistening eyes of the masses.

    I became a pastor’s son. Stamped and labeled. Wearing the “Hello, my name is…” nametag perpetually. Their vigilant eyes were always watching. Always waiting. Never blinking.

    I now had to fit someone’s expectations.

    I wanted to be normal. Average. Regular. Plain. I wanted out from the limelight. I felt bombarded with questions. Why did I have to be held to higher standards? Why couldn’t I hangout with this group of friends? Why did I have to be active in serving the church? Why did I have to be the first to participate? Why couldn’t I say these phrases? Why couldn’t I talk about these books I read, or movies I’ve watched? Why was everyone so uptight when I was around? Did I do something wrong? Why was there a look of disgust when I made a mistake? Was I a failure? Did I screw up so badly? Was I beyond forgiveness?

    It always intrigued me how grace was extended to every other person and yet I seemed to be without. I would curse, get into a scuffle, or worse, I had my ears pierced. One single step out of line and everyone knew. I was a poor example. Worse, my parents were seen as terrible role models. All because I had my ears pierced. What a joke! Or the time I obtained a Blink 182 album (I believe it was Enema of the State). Such uproar of disgust and horror was never heard before. By their standards, it was appalling. I was subsequently labeled, a bad seed. Whatever that means. Words.

    I didn’t fit the model. I was different. I never seemed to fulfill any of their expectations. I just seemed to fail. Came up short. Time and time again. Cyclical. You get the picture?

    I tried to measure up, but always came up short. Why was I different? I always wanted to know why.

    The answers are never what you expect and subsequently, never what you want to hear. God has a knack for those sorts of answers. Simply stated, I was set apart. Beyond simplicity, I was being trained to pastor. I was being taught through situation and circumstance, how to extend grace to people who would much rather see me punished, than to be let off the hook. I learned how to love people despite their overbearing opinions and criticisms of what they thought about me. I learned how to be Christ in the midst of seekers.

    I didn’t fit the model. Neither did he. I failed people’s expectation. So did he. His story and mine intersect quite a lot.

    Being a pastor’s son, taught me how to be more like Him than I would have ever believed.

    Who would have thought? I know I didn’t.

  • February 1, 2012 1:32 pm

    Sitting on the Porch

    Sitting in the family room of Rusty and Ericka Jackson’s home in Alabama. I’m watching it rain, not just rain, actually pour. It looks like it will be one of those all day rains. You can smell it in the air and see it in the sky.

    Last night Rusty and I sat on the deck and talked about the past 4 years of our friendship - the good, the bad, the ugly, and the ridiculous. But it doesn’t look like that’ll happen today - too bad, I love being outside on a porch.

    That brings me to today’s blog. I know it’s been a few weeks since I’ve posted - we moved, I’m old, so give me a break.

    Back to the the porch…

    I woke up this morning thinking about all the houses I’ve lived in over my life. And without exception, my favorite spot in each of those houses has been the porches, decks, or patios just outside the backdoor. In fact the last two houses we had in Michigan had almost as much outside square footage as inside footage.

    To me, there’s just something about being home, but not being inside. Sitting close enough to see all the activity, but being able to see it from an outside perspective.

    If someone slides open a glass door and invites me in, my first response is normally to invite them out. See its not that I don’t enjoy being around people, I’d just rather be with them outside…

    And that’s the source of most major tensions in my life - I like being involved, I like feeling at home, I like the familiar relationships, but I also really like being outside.

    I have great friends and I adore my family, but for some strange reason, I think differently than they do about most things. And if I don’t naturally think differently, I’ll move on purpose to the porch to get a different perspective.

    I think I’ve always been concerned about having too much of an “inside the house” perspective. You know what I mean, right? I don’t want to draw the same conclusions that everyone has just because it’s easier. I want to look at things from the outside perspective where the air is fresh and the boundaries are fewer.

    This attitude and way of thinking has gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years. Friends, family, and even employers have often believed me to be a contrarian or considered me to be just obstinate.

    But I swear, that’s not my heart. I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m aware that I am, but I’m not trying to be. I really just prefer the porch, that’s all.

    I’m sure I’m not that unique, there have to be a bunch of us outsiders out there…