Archive for Musings

Reflection Confession

August 27, 2009 at 4:35 pm · Filed under Musings ·Tagged , ,

As we head into one of those “definitive” times for us as a congregation I have this urge to share some things about my heart. I think in part because as you enter the unknown one of the things we hold on to besides faith in the Lord and conviction about what he wants in our lives is the people around us and the leaders he gives us.

So this confession is meant to offer up how I see myself, and who I think I am not. It is offered up to you, but it is more an exercise in soul reflection for me personally.

As a man I look upon the world we are in and I am overwhelmed: economics, militarism, politics, the environment, schooling, culture, race, gender, philosophies, you name it. I reel when I try to get my mind and faith around them. The size, complexity, and number of issues to deal with in our world simply crush me. I look down at the pieces of me that are left and I pick up and hold on to the few fragments that have meaning for me.

First and foremost is the kernel of my faith – Jesus Christ. The grace I first grasped 28 years ago and the person I know from scripture. I’m not sure about all the implications of this revelation, and at times like this I find myself giving up “big ideas” and instead find myself following bread crumbs on a murky, twisting path. I find myself with fewer answers to the big issues and more faith in trying to imitate love for people and be more faithful to obey God in what little I do know.

Chief among these are an overwhelming and growing love for my wife and children. Making my home a place of faith and laughter and growing together to live like Jesus offers and requires. A place of honest struggles, doubts, hopes, and fears that make us real people as we really walk through life together in love with the Savior. 

I think about church and vision and core practices (and other constructs used to describe faith and priority) and it comes down more and more to just wanting to love and be loved by those around me. It’s not anti-doctrine, anti-theology, or any such impossibility. It is just that those categories fade to background, and what comes forward is that I want to love in community and be part of a community that loves. I want to be part of an expression of the love and life of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Not “holy huddle” love, but Jesus-type out in the world, walking about, incarnational, missional, generous, hospitable, forgiving, risk taking love.

I don’t want to be evangelical (though I am), I don’t want to be Reformed (though I am), I don’t want to be a community development person (though I am), I don’t want to be a pastor (though I am). I want to be a humble follower and lover of my Savior whose who life and being are shaped by His love and sharing that love, especially with those who are forgotten or despised by the world around me. And I want to be part of God’s will to help shape others discover and grwo into their own, unique Jesus-shape.

I know that we have to plan and scheme and plot and try and pray and fail and succeed; but none of those are the point. I am not here because I’m a great schemer-planner. I don’t have a menu or blueprint to go by. I know they exist for some forms of church. But I haven’t found a recipe for the one I long for.

So I guess that’s it. I’m sure there will be lots of talk about vision, values, finances, location and the like. They are important discussions and I look forward to them. I just don’t want anyone to be fooled by them or by me. I’m just a man who desperately, DESPERATELY wants everyone (including himself) to know who we are in Christ and to live out His-our love among one another and the world around us.

Leave a Comment

A self-indulgent autobiographical thank you after 8 years of seminary

June 4, 2009 at 2:54 pm · Filed under Musings ·Tagged , ,

There I was, sitting on the toilet, when I received a vision that totally changed my life. I know what you’re thinking: It’s the set up for a punch line. But it’s not. It is embarrassingly true. It’s also somewhat emblematic of my walk with the Lord. More humor than dignity. It’s more about the amazing and startling than the polite and poised. Anyway…

It was December 17th. Heather and I had been to Bosnia just before this to talk with the teams there and start our transition and move to Mostar to work with David. But when we got there the Holy Spirit gave us no peace. It has happened to us before. I was offered a full-ride for a Ph.D. at the University of Kansas, but the Lord said no. In fact, coming to Atlanta in 1996 was a walk of faith, as neither Heather nor I wanted to come. But we knew it was what the Lord wanted. It would be years before we started to “get it”, and even longer before obedience brought the peace and joy you expected when you say “yes” to God. Anyway…

It was fine that we didn’t have peace. The problem is that we didn’t have a plan after this. There were leadership issues at the church and a new senior pastor was going to be brought in. I knew that I would be resigning to let him bring in his own group. I had left my job at the Centers for Disease Control to go into ministry. Now it looked like I didn’t have that, but having been in tough spots before we weren’t panicking. We were just clueless.

Then, one day (Dec 17) I went to the bathroom in the church office. It wasn’t a particularly important or urgent trip. Just a mosey down the hall to take care of business. That’s when the vision just took over. The room disappeared in my mind’s eye and I was standing at the edge of a vast river. There were a vast number of “Pea Pod” boats on the river transporting people down the river, some in the faster current others in slower water; but all making progress down the river. As I was watching something hit me in the shin and I looked down to see that one of the boats had drifted to shore. I looked up to see this wizened old man with very few teeth smile at me. He called me to the back of the boat and handed me the huge steering pole worn smooth with the sweet and strain of countless generations. It was pretty cool.

When I went to hand it back, the old man was gone. I looked around and called out, but he was gone. I paddled around the shallows getting the feel for the precarious balance of the narrow boat. When I stepped out and looked across the river the meaning of it all came crashing in on me.

The river was time. The boats filled with people were the church. The steersmen were pastors who were given a boat to steer a certain portion of the river. When it was time they hand off their boat to the next pilot of God’s choosing who gets the next stretch of time.

As I “came to” (it’s not that I ever forgot I was in a bathroom) I knew that the Lord was calling me to the pastorate and that I needed to go to seminary. The next day I applied to the Atlanta Seminary for Ministry and Theology, which eventually folded. Reformed Theological Seminary took the ASMT students and applied our credits to a degree.

I graduate this Sunday, June 6, 2009. My first class was January, 2001. Eight years.

But not an empty eight. The year I started seminary was the year that Caedmon was born. I learned Hebrew in the waiting room of the Georgia Cancer Specialist as Heather had ITP (not enough platelets) with the pregnancy. Fisher came one surgery and sixteen months later in my last semester of Greek. Greek was also learned in waiting rooms, but it seemed like more of those were in the hospital. Heather had a LOT of transfusions with Fisher. One of the worst nights of my life was a Saturday after spending most of that Friday sitting with Heather as she got another transfusion. That Saturday night she started to get a nosebleed (very bad). She went into the kitchen and coughed, and blood when everywhere. I felt everything inside me go numb. We called a neighbor, Rae, to stay with Caedmon and headed off to the hospital again. We got home about 5 am. I took Caedmon to church to let Heather sleep. I still remember how tired I was that day. That semester was the worse grade I made in seminary. But I have a wife and two amazing sons, and would pay any price for these.

Two under two in seminary also coincided with being asked to be the senior pastor at the church later in 2003. In spring of 2004 I got antsy and ambitious and tried to take multiple courses. It was a big mistake for my family. It was also the most difficult class I took in seminary, Gospels with Dr. Mawhinney.

We moved the church in 2005, and I took the year off from school. I can be an idiot, but fortunately I have a wife and elders who are smarter than me.

The kidney stone years of 2006-2007 involved four debilitating episodes, two lithotripsies, and one cystoscopy sprinkled into Systematic Theology III, Apologetics, a magnificent class on grace, and a class on ethics that was a personal water-shed for me.

Spring 2008 was one of my favorite classes, Isaiah to Malachi with Dr. Yeo as we sold our house and moved into temporary housing until we could find a house in the neighborhood the Lord has called us into. I could sit in classes with Dr. Futato and Dr. Yeo and never get bored or disinterested. Anyway…

Here we are.

I loved seminary. I love learning. I love being stretched and challenged. I love how big God is. How amazing his revelation, how stunning his grace. I love tackling big questions like Just War, pacifism, and privilege (thanks Dr. Davis). My ministry would be infinitely more anemic without the richness of seminary. I will miss it, and I will always use the tools it gave me. It was one of many grace-gifts of the Lord. And it all started on a toilet a life-time ago. God is so amazing.

I never imagined this journey. If I had I would have run screaming from the room with my pants around my ankles. But he did leave me some dignity. I can’t wait to see what’s around the bend of this next stretch of the river. It certainly gives going to the bathroom a bit of an adrenalin jolt. Anyway…

Thank you Heather, Caedmon, and Fisher – you are more precious to me than life, truly. Thank you Isaacsons, Lees, Mootys, Pradarellis, and Sommers. Thank you elders over the past 8 years who believe that the church must equip the called not just call the equipped: Hassan Ari, Dan Burton, Ray Dillon, Jim Eaton, Bill Fields, Tim Habeck, Dale Huff, Aaron Masih, Jerry McHan, Greg Pratt, Frank Rigdon, and Jim Siwy. Thank you Jim and Jolyn for a thousand gifts of friendship over the years. Thank you John Rowell for being the Lord’s instrument to open this door. Thank you Heather Thomas and Mary Hinkle for doing so much to keep this boat balanced these past years. Thank you Open Table Community/Northside Community Church for all your love and support over these very significant years.

Thank you RTS & ASMT:  Jonathan Stuckert, Dr. John Sowell, Dr. Dominic Aquila, Dr. Steve Brown, Dr. Robert Burns, Dr. Allen Curry, Dr. Bill Davis, Dr. Paul Fowler, Dr. Mark Futato, Dr. Sam Larson, Dr. Frank Ferrell, Dr. Sinclair Ferguson, Dr. J.V. Fesko, Joel Harlow, Justin Holcomb (before he was Dr. Holcomb),  Dr. Al Mawhinney, Dr. Daniel Steere, Dr. Neil Skjoldal, and Dr. John Yeo.

Above all else, thank you Lord, blessed Trinity, Almighty God. I am so amazed that you brought me to life, gave me a vision for that life that is nothing I could have ever imagined, and been so faithful to bring it to pass even in my immaturity and sin. Your love is both fierce and astonishing. I am humbled.

Amen

Comments (1)

Some Thoughts on Death

April 24, 2009 at 5:29 pm · Filed under Discipleship, Musings ·Tagged , , ,

I haven’t blogged in quite a while. With all the loss and stress and demands of the past few weeks I have had other priorities.

But I thought it was important at this juncture in our lives together to talk about death. It is important because of how confusing it can be for so many. The different perspectives and often conflicting messages we get in the world around us, and how huge the feelings and emotions are that we experience in the face of such loss.

Before moving forward in developing our theology of death, it must be stated again that theology is meant to explain (whether well or partially) what we find in scripture. It is not meant to dismiss or make irrelevant or alienate a person from their feelings and experiences of loosing loved ones in death. Theology is meant to guide and encourage, not bludgeon and condemn us when our grief and love have at us at odds with our theology. We are human beings who are growing and who struggle. We are not perfectionists who always believe right and act right. If you are going through grief and struggling with loss and death, my prayer is that these thoughts will help not hurt. If it does hurt, put it aside until such a time as you are ready.

So here are some important pieces of information about death that we find scripture:
1. Death is not natural. It is something that comes after the fall (Gen 3:22) and serves God’s purposes for redemption (John 11)
2. Jesus resurrection has broken the power of death (1 Tim 1:10) and the power of the one who uses death to deceive and destroy – the devil (Heb 2:14)
3. Death is called the last enemy. (1 Co 15:26) Believers are promised that one day they will celebrate the complete victory over death (1 Co 15:54)
4. Death itself will be destroyed (Rev 20:14, 21:4) even as Jesus has already overcome it.

What is important to remember is that the scriptures say far more about life and living in faithful relationship to the Lord than they ever do about death “per se” or the after-life. Jesus famously declared in Mark 12:27, “[Our God] is not the God of the dead, but of the living.”

With these things in mind, what is that we can say about death? How do we think about it, explain it, hold some of the tensions we feel about the future hope and the present reality?

We can say that physical death is the separation of the soul from the body. It is never a cessation of existence. Its purpose is to “humble the proud, mortify carnality, check worldliness, and foster spiritual-mindedness”. (Louis Berkhof, I think) Or, to update the language a little, to remind us of our fragility and limitations in the light of our immense egos, to let us know that there really is more than just this life, to keep us from living in whatever way we please without accountability, and to have an ever-present reminder that things are not just as they appear.

I look at death as a reality that checks my (all of humanity’s) prodigious rebelliousness. It is a tool in the hands of God that is part of the judgment for sin, one that will be discarded at the proper time. For those who belong to Christ the fear of death is replaced with a very real hope.

The real wisdom is how do we live in light of the (temporary) reality of death? We live in faith and obedience, waiting for the promised resurrection, focused on adoring God and cherishing others. (BTW, the resurrection is physical just like Jesus at the end of the gospels. No floating on clouds like fat little cherubim with harps.)

I know this barely scratches the surface of the questions and issues. What happens to the soul? In both the Old and New Testaments the immortality of the soul is affirmed: Job 19:25-27, Ps 16:9-11, Ps 17.15; Ps 73.23,24,26; Mt 10:28; Lk 23.43; Jn 11.24; 2 Co 5.1. What about other ideas like “soul sleep”, “annihilationism”, or “conditional immortality”? (I don’t hold to any of these, though some do) What about “hell”, “Sheol”, “the grave”?  What happens to people between their death and Jesus’ return? 

If people want to talk more about these kinds of question, I’m happy to continue. But for now, please know that the scriptures give us a picture and an explanation for understanding some aspects of death and other questions that are closely tied to it (suffering, the problem of evil, etc). It is important to know what our orthodoxy teaches us if we are to maintain hope and faith in light of competing ideas about death and eternity that come at us from so many different sources (other religions, popular books and movies, personal hopes, etc.).

Above all else we need to remind ourselves that all things, even death, have placed under the Lordship of Jesus Christ (2 Co 5:6-8, Phil 1.21). In the fullness of time, at just the right time, he says that he will return to complete the work that he started. A big part of the work is doing away with death itself.

Comments (2)

Brokenness – the soundtrack

March 11, 2009 at 2:48 pm · Filed under Discipleship, Musings ·Tagged , , , , , ,

I’m finishing my first ever freelance article for a magazine.  It was amazing and fun to do something new.  I think I have a new hero in the editor who made my ramblings succinct and coherent (which anyone reading this blog knows is not part of my style!). 

The assignment was an interview with  a man who wrestled for almost 20 years in ministry with pornography.  His story was so much more compelling and interesting than I could do justice to.  

The heart of his story is one of brokenness.  He lived all of his Christian life trying to control his behavior.  He never learned to trust God’s grace and who he is in Christ to the extent that he can trust others with the deep shame and insecurity that was at the center of his being.  It’s not that he hid his troubles.  He was in accountability and did all the things we are taught to do fight temptation and sin.  It’s that his focus was behavior not his fundamental identity about himself. 

It took an exhausting 18 years of trying to control to finally give up and admit he was ashamed and scared.  At the center of his being he felt like a fraud.   Something the pornography both masked and exacerbated. 

After being taken to a crisis point of realizing that he might lose everything – wife, family, ministry, reputation – he realized that all he really had was Christ.  From here grace could start to penetrate deeper.  He could start to accept what the scriptures say about who he is in Christ, why he is in Christ, what discipleship and life are truly all about.  They’re not about our looking good and being good, but God’s glory and grace in light of our reality.  Not thinking of ourselves more highly than we should lets us respond with genuineness to Christ and invite others to see this amazing Savior who loves even the likes of us.  A Savior that truly means what he says and makes us adopted, loved, valued heirs. 

This man’s story was one that really blessed my heart and called forth echoes of my own (on-going) journey through shame, insecurity, failure, and fear. 

What was weird is that after the interview I found myself remembering a particular song.  I wish I could embed the soundtrack into the article if/when it’s published.  But then again, I’m not sure a religious magazine would feel comfortable embedding emo-angst songs in their publication.  While I’m pretty sure the artists weren’t talking about the battle in a soul confronting God and the self, this is what I hear when I listen to it. 

I hear in the song the dark moments of real fear, confusion, hate, disappointment and longing that I have shared with the Lord.  One that raises a fist in rage at what life has become only to be broken by his love and the reality of my own inadequacy.  Yet in that place of brokenness and burial comes resurrection.  The great, awful, horrible, and wonderful fact is that God wants all of our heart and won’t settle for us hiding the bruised or ugly parts.  Christ’s love wants these too. 

The soundtrack was “The Kill” by 30 Seconds to Mars (you can listen at www.Pandora.com  or some other internet radio station if you’d like to).  The lyrics are:

“What if I wanted to break?  To laugh it all off in your face.  What would you do?  What if I fell to the floor?  Couldn’t take this anymore? What would you do? 

Come, break me down.  Bury me, bury me.  I am finished with you.

What if I want to fight?  Beg for the rest of my life?  What would you do?

You say you wanted more.  What I’m waiting for.  I’m not running from you. 

Come, break me down.  Bury me, bury me.  I am finished with you. Look at my eyes.  You’re killing me, killing me.  All I wanted was you.

I tried to be someone else.  But nothing seem to change.  I know now this is who I really am inside.  Pardon me for myself.  Fighting for a chance I know now this is who I really am. 

Come break me down.  Bury me, bury me.  I am finished with you.  Look in my eyes.  You’re killing me, killing me.  All I wanted was you.  Come break me down.  Break me down.   Break me down.

This man said, “Brokenness is a severe gift from God.”  If you are one who is trying to live a schizophrenic existence of a polished outside and a screaming inside, please know that there is freedom and life.  If we are to truly be a community we have to be a place where we don’t have to compromise some aspects of the truth (our failure and inadequacy) for others (who we are in Christ and how we are called to live). 

One of the things I appreciate most about the elders and others the Lord has brought together here is that almost all have a story of bitter loss – dreams, churches, spouses, reputations.  They – for the most part – lead from these places. 

So here is what I’m asking – ask to hear one of their stories.  I would never ask someone struggling with disclosure to take a step they can’t take.  So appeal to our egos and ask us about who we are and our struggles.  My prayer is that the telling of our hopes, failures, and victories will present the space and the opportunity for you to take a risk, drop your guard, and be real.  In the brokenness we find Christ.  In brokenness he gives us strength.  Through brokenness we are made whole. 

Sacred paradoxes.  But true. 

More weirdness – my play list just played “Save Me” by Shinedown.  Don’t worry.  I won’t transcribe it.  :-)

Leave a Comment

Dissolving a False Distinction

February 6, 2009 at 3:27 pm · Filed under Discipleship, Musings ·Tagged , , ,

One of the things that I hope is dissolving in the western church’s return to the primacy of mission is the false line that separates “international” missionaries from “local” missionaries (i.e. you and I) . Mission is about demonstrating and sharing God’s love in Christ. Unfortunately for many in the US, we have fallen into the trap of professionalism. That is, life is best handled and explained by people with college degrees who specialize in whatever niche issue we are facing (McKnight’s book The Care-less Society is a great explanation if you want to explore the idea more). This idea of specialization and professionalization has even found its way into the local church where we have special people with special callings (i.e. professional missionaries) who live special (different) lives.

Now, before delivering the punch line let me say that I think we need specially prepared people for some tasks. There are callings and specific needs for Christians in other parts of the world – doctors, translators, cultural experts, engineers, etc. What I am about to say isn’t really a knock against those we call “missionaries” , but against an OVEREMPHASIS on an idea. That is, making the communication of the love of Christ strictly the realm of “professional” Christians.

So here’s the punch-line. There should be no difference in how a missionary makes choices and decisions and how we make choices and decisions. A missionary bases all of her decisions on reaching people with the love of Christ. Where they live, how live, what they wear and why – EVERY decision — is about putting his love on display in a way that can be seen and appreciated by the people she is called to.

Most of us make decisions of expedience because for some reason we don’t think we have the same responsibility or calling in putting Christ’s love on display. Or – what is more likely – we figure out where we want to live, how much we want to make (which is usually as much as we can get so we can have more and more), what schools we want our kids to go to (not THOSE schools), and THEN look around to see who we can reach out to. I honestly wouldn’t have that much of a problem with this if it weren’t for the fact that most of the previous decisions are based on fear and privilege that segregate us from others so that – by default – we look around and only see people just like us who made decisions just like us. I think this is a dangerous compromise and the state of the church in the US is ample proof.

Now before everyone gets defensive or thinks I’m being a judgmental pig let me get back to my main point. I’m talking about HOW we make decisions more than the specifics of our life-styles. It could very well be that it is God’s good and perfect will that you live in a good suburb with good schools and have a ministry to those around you in your neighborhood who truly, desperately need Christ. We need to be wherever God sends us and in whatever capacity he calls us to. The question we have to ask ourselves — to be sure we are not delusional or blinded by our culture – is whether in our heart of hearts he is Lord and has the right and freedom to send us ANYWHERE to do his will. If we can say “yes” or even “I want to say yes, but I’m scared witless” then I think we’re doing OK (just be sure you aren’t asking and answering the question alone – it practically guarantees delusion).

The one thing we have to do is ask the missional question, or we will lead an unreflective, compromised, non-biblical life. If we just assume our right to pursue and attain the American dream without a conscious understanding of the consequences and dangers of that dream, we will inevitably compromise the gospel and twist it into a religion that serves our cultural, personal, and national interests and not the interests of Christ.

So as we begin a mission emphasis Sunday please come in having thought and prayed about the fact that Christ has chosen you to be a vessel and a communicator of unimagined love and grace. He is sending us all around the world, in all different capacities, to all different people to bring his story of love so that whosoever believes can know him and have life with him.

Based on this grand vision of Him, where does he want you? Our church is called to Chamblee and Doraville and the international and immigrant community. We have a long way to go and much to do to truly be his presence. Do you need to relocate? Maybe, maybe not. It’s not the answer that matters right now as much as approaching the question as one desiring to imitate Christ’s mission, going where you are sent to those whom God pleases to send you. If we can start making decisions like missionaries about money, time, housing, job, school, family, etc then we will all be walking with him wherever that may be. And – as we are learning in our own relocation – since we know him, his love, and his grace then we can be assured that wherever he sends us and to whomever he sends us to, it is for our blessing and fullness of life not just to share with others.

So you see you can’t really lose if we start living life his way (though, notice I didn’t say it would be easy). But first we have to start remembering who he is (LORD) and start to do things his way.

Leave a Comment

An interesting thing happened on the way from the Forum…

January 15, 2009 at 4:16 pm · Filed under Musings

Yesterday began the after-school program for this next semester of school at the ministry center. It started typically: snacks, refereeing, no touching, be respectful, focus, we’ll draw later…the normal combo of exasperation and fun. The middle schoolers came in but with little homework because of testing. Then a new thing happened. A new set of 2nd and 3rd graders came really late. Kid’s I’d never met. We got started.

We started chatting. They were shocked that my son attended their school. That set me back. They were also excited and looked at me different. This was good. We waded through reading and math. Then started drawing. I got them to laugh. One of them started crying, but I wasn’t sure why. She stopped and didn’t want to talk about it. Kids were building with wooden Tinker Toys, yelling, laughing. It was time for me to go.

Here’s the interesting thing. It was my first time walking the .4 mile home. I cut through a parking lot. Past a dumpster and small mom & pop restaurant. Waited a LONG time to cross the highway (I know now why it is the most dangerous street in all of Atlanta). Headed home.

During the walk home some of my disconnectedness vanished (I talked about this in the last blog). It wasn’t that I belonged or anything. I think it was simply being out of the car. Walking the well-worn dirt paths that get you to the bus stop and corner to find work. It was hearing and smelling and being in the space and place. I wasn’t cut off and passing through.

It may not sound like much, but it was. It was a profoundly deep and satisfying sense of…rightness. I wish I had more words than that, but it’s all I got. This sense of a beginning in a place that is a little scary, getting more familiar, and to which I am profoundly and significantly attached to.

This morning was awards day for the elementary school kids. We went to watch our son (and all the other sons and daughters) be recognized for their hard work. Into the auditorium walked the four new kids from the night before. The enthusiastic hand waving and attention getting warmed my heart. Our lives are connected and becoming more connected. We recognize each other in our worlds. It’s not quite seeing. But at least it’s knowing faces in a crowd, and liking them.

Leave a Comment

Being there but not being there – dislocated relocation

January 8, 2009 at 3:18 pm · Filed under Adventures, Musings ·Tagged ,

We moved into the new house in the new neighborhood in the heart of the place the Lord has sent us.  The journey for me started 4-5 years ago.  And now I’m here…but I’m not.  It’s weird. 

 

In 2004 the dream of a better way of living the Jesus-life came crashing in on me.  Tired of the numbness and the glass house I’d constructed from the tools of my particular brand of Christianity and middle-class expectations, I started to look for a better way, the real way I read about but didn’t live.  I found lots of help from friends and writers and fellow dreamers. 

 

But I still had to do something. 

 

I was stuck “in between.”  Discontent with what is, but not there.  It was maddening at times.  It was depressing, confusing, disgusting.  Four years later…FOUR YEARS…and we’re here.  It’s not buyers regret or anything; it is just one of those strange places where the Lord answers your prayer and now what? 

 

We’re in the new house, but it’s not our home yet.  We’re in the neighborhood, but don’t know the neighbors.  We have made the biggest step to date, but it’s only the first step.  To paraphrase my friend Josh Feit, “Relocation isn’t about changing the location of your stuff, but the location of your soul.” 

 

Ironically, my wife is way ahead of me here.  Four years ago, when I told her about my desires to relocate, she said; “Let me get this straight.  You want us to move into a place where the boys and I will be stuck 24/7 having to live and cope and get along doing the ACTUAL work of ministry, while you and your friends leave every morning for coffee shops to talk about changing the world and patting yourselves on the back?  Do I have this right?”   Two weeks ago (and two years after she caught the vision in 2006) she said, “It doesn’t feel like I’m doing community development anymore.  It feels like I’m living a life I really enjoy.  The school, the people, driving around, shopping in the stores – this is where I want to be and these are the people I want to live with.  It’s just life with people without a big cause attached to it.”  She is just so much more involved in life here than I am.  She is so focused, as opposed to my driving in and out except to do after-school program.  Hopefully, this will change for me since the in-and-out is changing.  I guess we’re back to the “changing the location of your soul” thing. 

 

I don’t really have a punch-line to this blog.  I guess I’m just blurting and sharing from a place of strange dislocation in my relocation.  Being “there” but not being there.  Honestly excited, but oddly timid.  It’s like when I went sky-diving for the first and only time.  I sat through all the preparation and was psyched to go up.   But when I had to grab the strut of the plane and hang in space it was very different.  And that was nothing compared to actually letting go.  I still remember the instructor shouting in my ear right before I stepped out, “When you get out I will give a command.  When you do it, and only IF you do it will I give you permission to jump.  Do you understand? “ I shook my head “yes”.  When I was hanging out in the middle of nowhere, holding on at 70 m.p.h. (or whatever the speed of the plane of was) she said one word.  She yelled, “Smile!” I started laughing and she “jump!”  And then all of life went wild. 

 

So maybe this is one of those moments where the book learning is over and the plane is slowly circling up and I know the Lord is about to call “smile.”  I know he will and I know I will, but…  Wait a minute.  I’ve already jumped! 

Leave a Comment

Rescued by the mundane

April 17, 2008 at 5:40 pm · Filed under Musings

I had the strangest sensation this week.  I was sitting in a coffee shop on Monday, and my mind started drifting over the conversation of the past few days and hours.  There had been so much pain and confusion by people I love and cherish.  Disease, loss, death of vision, the inevitable gravity of mortality…  For the first time in my life I felt the physical sensation of numbness spread from the emptiness I felt inside out into my limbs. It was physical and it wasn’t.  It was like my soul was disconnecting from its moorings and sliding away.  It was a weird kind of melting, drifting, lethargy. 

 

So I took a deep breath.  I closed my eyes and felt the sadness.  Tears weld up.  The day became more gray. 

 

In the cocoon of despair I prayed.  Well, it was more like I pointed my mind to heaven and opened up my soul in pleading eyes to a God who I always tell people is always Present.  I didn’t feel anything.  I just hoped.  And God gave the grace (the dignity) to just be there.   No revelation.  No rescue.  It was like going on a walk with a friend where neither of you ever talks, but you know by proximity alone that they understand.  Volumes of words are spoken by silence. Steady love.  The commitment of being there is enough. 

 

So I went home.  The kids were having a hard day and there was a lot of parenting to do.  My wife had had a really good day of encouragement from the Lord. 

 

The next day we were doing pre-marriage counseling for a young couple.  They’re excited.  We’re excited.  We’re all learning and exploring their relationship and building in healthy perspectives and skills for a successful future.  Focusing on them for a few hours this week was good medicine. 

 

I received a phone call from someone who had visited the church for the first time.  I had overheard a conversation on Sunday where they were sharing that they had some kind of tooth problem, but no money to fix it.  So, lead by the Holy Spirit, we took up an offering and then started looking for a dentist to do the work for the money we had.  The man called during the week to ask if he could say “thank you” to everyone.  He was very thankful, and said that he had never seen anything like that before in a church in his life.  If was great to put God’s generosity on display, and to be a vessel of blessing. 

 

Yesterday I was leading the community prayer time.  In checking in with each other there were several people in the midst of struggle.  My first thought was “not more, Lord.” But in the small group, sharing honestly and openly, I didn’t find the despair pilling on with the other burdens.  I felt compassion and hope for these people I love.  As we prayed for them and interceded I felt my own burdens ease. 

 

Today, I stopped thinking for a while and just let the sunshine and the full-bloom of spring do it’s ministry to my soul.  It was good. 

 

People are still sick.  Visions are still dying.  Death is still present.  Injustice and oppression and violence still seem the rule of the day. 

 

But, at the same time, there is God, the Lord, the Only.  There is his presence and his promises regardless of my experiences or mood.  Sometimes these seem irrelevant.  Other days they are the very breath of life itself.  For a week like this one they are simply enough. 

 

I’m telling you all of this because I don’t know what else to do with moments like this except to share them in the hope that when your time comes you’ll know that you are walking well-worn paths.  That what matters is the walk, the moment, the truth of our mortality and humiliation in the face of the wild swells of the not-in-our-control-mortality that we navigate.  The victory is not in the escape, but in the splinter of faith it takes to turn your eyes to heaven.  

 

At some point we are all taken off the tourist map into the back-alley that happy-happy Christian pop-culture never talks about.  Back alleys where we are reminded of our inability, our insignificance, and our mortality.  It’s not all celebration and victory and joy.  But it’s real.  It’s true.  It’s the un-medicated life of loving in a fallen world and the small, everyday, unspectacular things which anchor us and rescue us.

Comments (1)

A slice of the absurd

March 13, 2008 at 7:32 pm · Filed under Current Events, Musings ·Tagged ,

With the dedication of the Communitas Building coming up I have been thinking back over the past 3 years and laughing.  When I think of what got us started in our transition back then, and where we are now all I can do is laugh at the absurdity and rightness of it all.   When we transitioned from the big building in Dunwoody with million dollar homes across the street to the industrial warehouse and immigrant groups we have been called to serve I marvel at the Lord. 

I never imagined that this whole journey could be summed up with the words spoken to the very first disciples, “Follow me.”  Nothing else describes what the Lord has done over this time than that simple, faith-filled, blissfully ignorant phrase.   

“Follow me.”  The Lord doesn’t have a recipe or a one-size-fits-all vision for all people, all cultures, all time.  Sure, the message of his love is timeless and moves across all cultures and people.  But not how he puts his Kingdom on display and gets his message of hope and reconciliation across.   

“Follow me.”  Not follow the latest and greatest fads.  Not get a guru or a consultant or method or technique.  I think that if people were to simple try and recreate what he has done through us (i.e. adopt a school, find an apartment complex, partner with ministries that distribute furniture, repair bicycles, teach about great Christian thinkers, and start conversations in coffee houses, etc) that it would fall apart.  I am glad that we have some experience to share with others whom the Lord is calling into similar ministry.  I’m just saying that copying another ministry uncritically isn’t just lazy, but dangerous if it is an attempt to short-circuit any aspect of following him alone.     

“Follow me.”  I am convinced in my little mind that the Lord calls us to himself and wants us to pray, believe, and respond to his leadings in what he wants to do with a community of faith.  It really isn’t up to us.  He is the Savior and Lord, and as such we love, obey, and respond to him whether it always makes sense to us or not.   

“Follow me.”  I shared in the last blog how the Lord has guided us through the contributions of other people in our community that are not necessarily in leadership roles.  They are normal, everyday people who he has spoken to in dreams, interests, and passions (and, yes, I do believe that people in church leadership are abnormal in both the funny and the sad meaning of that word).   

I look back at the actual expression of what the Lord is doing here and, I have to confess, I don’t get it.  I don’t know how he is going to change the world through talking, bikes, and furniture; but I believe that he is.  I don’t understand how getting smaller, less comfortable, less safe will translate into bringing him praise and glory, but I believe that it will.  The only word that seems to fit right now is absurd.  It’s all outrageously, hilariously, wonderfully absurd.  I love that about our Lord.  He always uses the foolish things, the small, the insignificant, the bizarre to do his will.   You need to know that when I use words like insignificant and bizarre that those aren’t bragging words for me.  Some people take great pride in being different.  When I use words like these it means counter-intuitive, risky-with-an-edge-of-foolishness (as opposed to a calculated risk), and confusing.  But, there it is.  “Follow me.”   

So we have tried to follow.  I’m sure we’ve missed some steps.  But even so I trust more in his ability to do his will and use us in that service than I trust our ability to follow well.  And I hope that we always will.  I pray that we will continue to believe in the body of Christ.  That this belief will be expressed in the time, attention, and energy needed to listen and to believe in people.  I pray that our plans will always focus on building disciples who know and practice listening so that we always have a healthy dose of the absurd to keep us from co-opting the idea of faith and re-defining it to mean him following us and our plans.

So as we dedicate this building and this vision this Saturday, I hope it will be with a clear commitment to following.  He is Lord.  He is good.  It is our privilege to put him on display however he chooses to be displayed – even if it means rusty bicycles and old furniture. 

Leave a Comment

Movement is life

October 25, 2007 at 3:24 pm · Filed under Musings

I can still remember in vivid clarity the “live fire” course in basic training.  This happens at the end of basic training and simulates the overwhelming sounds and sights of a battlefield at night.  You walk down a long trail and stand silently in single file.  Boredom, the great constant in the Army, starts to set in.  Then, without warning, a flare goes up.  You are told to move and the explosions start.  You are hearded into a trench.  In groups of about eight you go to the front edge of the trench and at the command you go up and over.  It’s then that the surreal flashes and explosions – like a concert of chaos - envelope you.  You are moving through the obstacles.  It’s hard to think.  There is so much going on all around you that you have to force yourself to stay on your line.  Move, go to cover, move over, move under, move around, move…until you get the last twenty-five yards or so where you fix bannets, charge, strike the target, and step off the field confused, exhausted, overwhelmed, and hoping that you never have to do that for real. 

What I remember most clearly is the Drill Sergent going down the line reminding us of the dangers of actually getting hurt or killed if we get disoriented and panic.  I remember him saying over and over, “Movement is life, soldiers.  If you stop, you die.  Shoot, move, and communicate!  Find cover but don’t stay there.  Get to your objective.  Keep formation, keep your heads, and MOVE!”  When the wall of explosions and sound hit you out of the trench, you stop thinking.  All I remembered was, “Move!” 

I’ve been thinking about movement a lot these days.  Lungs filling with air and exhaling…movement.  Heart contracting and expanding…movement.  Blood flowing….movement.  Impulses traveling along neurons and across synapsi…movement.  Kidney stones leaving the body…movement. 

I thought, especially while I was sitting around healing and eventually getting grumpy and irritable and how much I rely on exercise to deal with stress and keep equalibrium and a sense of peace – healthy movement. 

I look at the life of the church and think about it.  Jesus was baptized and the Holy Spirit immediately sends him to wilderness - movement.  Jesus final command in Matthew is “Go and make disciples…” – movement. The Holy Spirit coming like a mighty rushing wind – movement.  I think about growing in maturity – movement.  I think about struggling with sin and short-comings – movement.  I think about getting closer to people in community – movement. I think about actually getting to know people in the community as individuals and friends – movement. 

I can hear the “wait a minute” in my own head – movement is only part of the story.  You have to rest and recover or you break down. 

This is true. If you have only rest (being sedentary) you break down.  If you have only movement you break down.  But order is important here.  Rest is recovery, repair, strength and endurance only after exertion.  You must have both.  But the strength and growth are dependent upon the movement. 

It makes me examine my life.  Am I moving, growing, maturing, struggling with the right things, expending physical energy (not just mental or “spiritual” energy), being involved?  If I am moving am I running around like a chicken with my head cut off (unfocused, questing without a goal or purpose), or am I deliberately doing the things that I know bring growth (Word, prayer, community)?  Is it all internal (study, prayer, church ministry), or is it external (mercy, forgiveness, hospitality, generosity, outside the church)? 

If the “live fire course” is an applicable metaphor for our spiritual warfare, then I have to ask am I rightly related to those I moving over the field with?  Am I actually achieving an objective or just hanging back in confusion?  Are we working together?  Do I know real “cover and concealment” from a simple shield that the “fiery darts of the evil one” can easily pass through?  When the time comes to break into the open field and charge with one of two options - life or death – am I willing? 

For my part, many of these questions can’t be answered in the positive.  I want them to be.  I want my Christian life to be the same as a controlled “live fire” course and not an actual battle.  I don’t want to get actually injured or actually suffer or actually die (physically or figuratively in my “death to self”) in the cause of Christ.   

Movement in the life with Christ is tricky.  It isn’t just activity, although that can be good.  It’s exertion in obedience.  It’s strain and pain and endurance that then comes with rest which actually heals and brings strength.  This means the struggle with character.  It means the pain of recognizing and owning short-comings, compromises, preferences, self and selfishness.  It isn’t just suddenly and with relative ease being “like Jesus.”  Why?  Because movement is life.  Growing, being actually in transformation (communally and personally) is what the Lord is doing. 

A sedentary spiritual life is complacency.  It is when we spend more time getting irritated by issues of style and preference than sin, compromising love of God and others in the name of peace or ease, having excuses for not doing the things the Lord puts before us. 

Grumbling, complaining, avoiding, and hiding from others feels like movement because our hearts beat fast and we get out of breath in our irritation.  But it’s not real movement.  It’s more like angina or asthma or something where the symptoms feel similar to exercise, but the cause is radically different. 

Am I moving?  Am I part of a movement?  Am I actually doing the right movements for the right reasons?  Am I resting to grow stronger or resting a lot and shuffling around to break up periods of resting (a spiritual couch potato)? 

Gracious, heavenly Father;

Speak to us.  Guide us into faith, hope, and love.  Keep us from delusions, the lies of culture, and the compromises of the deceiver.  We would be healthy athletes in the cause of Christ.  Good soldiers in the cause of love and peace.  Committed warriors against injustice, oppression, neglect, and racism – especially our own. 

Keep us from the busyness that we substitute for real movement, and from the self-serving shuffling about that is merely a minor interruption in our routine and that actually fuels our ability to more greatly endure our narcissistic obsessions. 

Keep us moving within the movement of the Holy Spirit and the mighty things you are doing in this time, in this generation.  Faithful, dedicated, and determined to love you and others.

Amen

Comments (2)

Older Posts »