As I write, I realise it is Sunday morning, the time most Christians are puttering off to church. Needless to say I won't be going. Many ask me why. I find very few can really understand. It actually seems kind of sad when I try to explain, and the people can't see past what they think is the truth to see a bigger picture.
So I try to use analogies, but usually they don't go real far. People just can't see. They can't see that 'going' to church isn't even a biblical concept. They can't see that 'going' to a building has very little to do with being the church, yet it serves very well to inoculate people from seeing God and relationship with Him in a bigger picture. It puts boundaries on a limitless God.
Usually all I get is questions outwardly, and criticism inwardly. They usually won't say it, but the question in their mind is whether I am a real Christian or not. In their mind I show the obvious signs of back sliding and definitely think in a heretical way. The narrow mindedness is uncanny. And the judgment! I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It has been the Christian way for centuries.
Yet how do I share with them the freedom I have found? How do I explain how much bigger God looks out here and how much more alive my faith is? How do I show them a freedom and vibrancy they don't want to see because it isn't packaged in a way that is familiar to them? What's funny is that many would rather I 'went to church' - and are far more concerned about my big box attendance than they are about the 'vividly alive faith' I have found. They would quickly sacrifice my joy for more obedience to a false religious behavior (Christians HAVE to go to church).
I love it out here. Worship isn't boxed up to 20 minutes of 'praise' music on Sunday morning. Spending time with God isn't packaged into a 15 minute devotion time. My learning about God isn't limited to whatever offering some guy behind a pulpit might make. There isn't anything between me and Papa. It is about our relationship. And the barriers that brought structure to my earlier faith aren't prison walls to my growth now. Leaving the institutional church has pulled the stops out of my relationship with Him, and entered me into a wild and crazy adventure that is new around every corner. It is alive and dynamic and scary and unpredictable and fresh and challenging and - well, maybe the best word is that out here it is 'wilderness'. A wilderness of living on the edge of life, terrified and yet more alive spiritually than I have ever felt in my 26 years with Him.
So why would I want to go back to something scripted out each week - something planned to fit into an hour and a half? Why would I want to go to a building where - at best- I walk out feeling centered and ready for the next week? Ready for the next week means that I am in charge of my life, on top of things - and if I am, than Jesus isn't. Let's face it - the gathering on Sunday is ultimately about me. As much as we try to make it about Him, it isn't. We go to feel better, so we can feel His presence, so we can enjoy.
How about an adventure that isn't quite so safe? Anybody out there willing to come alive again? I'm not saying that only happens outside the four walls of the conventional church. I am saying that there is an essential attitude shift that needs to happen in all of us - inside and outside the walls. One where we are willing to go where He leads, rather than one that is packaged up for us in predictable patterns of religious function.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
Back to School?
As most parents during this time of year, we are registering the boys for school. We got free food for two nights out of the deal, so it was worth it. We've done the buying school supplies thing, and the meet the teacher thing and the visit the classroom thing. Now we are all just waiting for the big day. The boys are counting the hours, since this will be the first time ever they have gone to school. Up till now they have been home schooled, but in roughly 80 something hours, they will trot off to enter a whole new world. To them, classrooms are new, real desks are novel, and a teacher that isn't related to you unheard of. They can't wait. Bus rides, school lunches, new friends, school bells, bullies, lockers, book bags, sports, and homework all brand new.
I wonder where in life we turned the corner from 'still got school' to 'Been there done that'. Because there is something vital lost when we stop feeling the hunger to learn. Somewhere having it together becomes more important than learning new things. No wonder so many of us are bored.
After 25 years in traditional Christianity, I have begun a journey outside the institutional church and it has set my world on fire again. Everything I have believed for years is getting challenged. I am getting stretched and my world upset around every corner. It isn't the easiest journey I have ever been on, but it is most definitely the most alive one I have ever been on. I have to admit it is good to be back to school again.
I wonder where in life we turned the corner from 'still got school' to 'Been there done that'. Because there is something vital lost when we stop feeling the hunger to learn. Somewhere having it together becomes more important than learning new things. No wonder so many of us are bored.
After 25 years in traditional Christianity, I have begun a journey outside the institutional church and it has set my world on fire again. Everything I have believed for years is getting challenged. I am getting stretched and my world upset around every corner. It isn't the easiest journey I have ever been on, but it is most definitely the most alive one I have ever been on. I have to admit it is good to be back to school again.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
New Wine
I drink. Hard to believe huh? The worst part is I have absolutely no shame about it. And even a step farther off the cliff - I make wine. I don't personally get the whole Christian hang up with alcohol, but I know it is rampant in our slice of religion. Evidently it is easier to believe that people were getting toasted on Welches in Cana than it is to believe Jesus had anything to do with alcohol. After all, when they called him a drunkard and a glutton, it means he wasn't drinking wine, right? Why is it so hard to believe what the Bible says? - Jesus drank.
Enough of my sarcasm. I am not looking to argue alcohol use with any one. What I wanted to write about was a personal journey. Many years ago I used to make wine. It was a recreation for a season of my life. I got a little carried away and had like 750 bottles I had made at one point. I ended up throwing them away during a season where a lot of things were ending. It was symbolic I guess - throwing out the old, admitting the death of many things in my life at the time.
Wine making is really cool. Seeing the carbon dioxide released when the yeast turns the sugar into alcohol (there's that bad word again) brings new meaning to Jesus' story about putting new wine into old wine skins (Welches that is). I used to put a balloon on top of the fermentation container and watch the expansion as the fermentation happened. It was so cool. It would literally blow the balloon up and pop it from all the gases released.
I really enjoyed making the wine. Each batch was a creation, something I uniquely designed. I always did weird wines like raspberry and elderberry and dandelion and spam wine (just kidding on the spam wine). Each bucket of mix was a form of self expression I guess. Something actually felt God honoring in the process of creating, knowing that Papa also enjoyed creating unique things.
But the season of wine making passed, as did a lot of things in my life in that season. I got rid of most of my equipment and walked completely away from it, and in the process lost a creative outlet. It was a rough season of surrender and loss.
Thanks to a little ebaying, I was able to pick up some essentials for making a new batch of wine. So I had the kids slicing peaches (on sale at the market for $1 a pound), while I ran the juicer (garage sale for $3), and Laura (absolutely priceless) added grapes. It was a fun family thing. I purified the fermentation container and we threw everything in and put the yeast and the lid on yesterday. Today at lunch we noticed the bubbles coming through the top of the container, meaning that fermentation had begun. The smell of yeast doing its thing is beginning to fill the kitchen. I was telling the boys about the process the wine would go through and how yeast was an alive organism. It was the thing that brought about change.
I can't tell you how neat it is to be making new wine. It is indicative of a change of seasons in my life - one of moving into grace and freedom again, with a new start. New wine for new life. I like it. It reminds me that God is always working, brewing in us something new, bringing life from the dead things. It reminds me that He is always a God of second and third and 57th chances. It brings me back to the fact that He made wine to, and there is a miracle that happens in the process of wine making that reminds me of the miracle of life. Always something changing. Always something alive in there. Always a measure of His dynamic presence if we will notice it.
So Papa, I invite you to pour yeast again into my heart and create something wonderful and new.
Enough of my sarcasm. I am not looking to argue alcohol use with any one. What I wanted to write about was a personal journey. Many years ago I used to make wine. It was a recreation for a season of my life. I got a little carried away and had like 750 bottles I had made at one point. I ended up throwing them away during a season where a lot of things were ending. It was symbolic I guess - throwing out the old, admitting the death of many things in my life at the time.
Wine making is really cool. Seeing the carbon dioxide released when the yeast turns the sugar into alcohol (there's that bad word again) brings new meaning to Jesus' story about putting new wine into old wine skins (Welches that is). I used to put a balloon on top of the fermentation container and watch the expansion as the fermentation happened. It was so cool. It would literally blow the balloon up and pop it from all the gases released.
I really enjoyed making the wine. Each batch was a creation, something I uniquely designed. I always did weird wines like raspberry and elderberry and dandelion and spam wine (just kidding on the spam wine). Each bucket of mix was a form of self expression I guess. Something actually felt God honoring in the process of creating, knowing that Papa also enjoyed creating unique things.
But the season of wine making passed, as did a lot of things in my life in that season. I got rid of most of my equipment and walked completely away from it, and in the process lost a creative outlet. It was a rough season of surrender and loss.
Thanks to a little ebaying, I was able to pick up some essentials for making a new batch of wine. So I had the kids slicing peaches (on sale at the market for $1 a pound), while I ran the juicer (garage sale for $3), and Laura (absolutely priceless) added grapes. It was a fun family thing. I purified the fermentation container and we threw everything in and put the yeast and the lid on yesterday. Today at lunch we noticed the bubbles coming through the top of the container, meaning that fermentation had begun. The smell of yeast doing its thing is beginning to fill the kitchen. I was telling the boys about the process the wine would go through and how yeast was an alive organism. It was the thing that brought about change.
I can't tell you how neat it is to be making new wine. It is indicative of a change of seasons in my life - one of moving into grace and freedom again, with a new start. New wine for new life. I like it. It reminds me that God is always working, brewing in us something new, bringing life from the dead things. It reminds me that He is always a God of second and third and 57th chances. It brings me back to the fact that He made wine to, and there is a miracle that happens in the process of wine making that reminds me of the miracle of life. Always something changing. Always something alive in there. Always a measure of His dynamic presence if we will notice it.
So Papa, I invite you to pour yeast again into my heart and create something wonderful and new.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Being a Man of Your Word
So I have these two friends, or at least used to have these two friends, who have the same lack in personality. They are a blast to be with, and it always turns out to be fun when we get together. They are both selfless at times, and would do anything for me if I needed them to. They are the kind of guys that add to my arsenal of friends - sometimes. It's not that they aren't quality guys - they are and then some. It's that they aren't men of their word.
A classic line for the one is "I'll give you a call on Friday afternoon and see if we can hook up this weekend." But he never calls. If it had happened a couple times, it wouldn't be such a big deal, but it has happened dozens of times, to the point where it makes me cringe when he says the words, because I know he won't follow through. He never does. It seems like it would be more honest to just stop making statements you don't plan on doing anyway, rather than being dishonest by saying them because they make it look like you are having relationship.
The other guy and I have gone really deep together many times. And then he disappeared without explanation from my life. Every once in awhile I will get an email or something from him saying he wants to talk, and then I don't hear from him again. The last one was just a couple weeks ago, and he wanted to connect and said he missed me and he valued me. I emailed back right away. Still haven't heard from him. The last time he did this was a couple years ago, and it was probably a couple years before that he did the same thing. Lots of desire, no follow through.
It seems that relationship must be really hard for both of them. I love them both, but I am hurt that they won't enter in with me, or follow through with something.
As I was writing this, the Revelation passage came into my head where Jesus says something like "I wish you were either hot or cold, but because you are luke warm, I will spit you out of my mouth". I think I am understanding a little more what Jesus was saying. I know His deepest passion was to be in intimate relationship with the people he was talking to. And they couldn't or wouldn't cut it. I know the feeling. I wish my two 'friends' would either let me know they would like to move on into other relationships, or they would like to really get into ours, but because they won't take any steps in either direction, it makes me want to throw up.
Where are the men who want to be men of their word? Where are the men who are willing to look in the mirror of relationship and see their lack of the ability to relate, and at least acknowledge it? It doesn't seem like such a big request - if you say you are going to do something, do it. Be a man who lives his word. That can be easily remedied by stopping saying things you aren't going to do anyway, or actually follow through. It isn't rocket science.
I know I sound angry. Probably because I am (funny how that works). It isn't my intention to judge or put down either of these guys. I just want relationship with them - I really do love them. They just won't enter in with me.
And suddenly I think about all the years my Papa longed, probably sometimes with anger, for me to be His friend. How He must have ached for me to just be with Him! I guess I am tasting some of what He tasted all those years I wandered.
A classic line for the one is "I'll give you a call on Friday afternoon and see if we can hook up this weekend." But he never calls. If it had happened a couple times, it wouldn't be such a big deal, but it has happened dozens of times, to the point where it makes me cringe when he says the words, because I know he won't follow through. He never does. It seems like it would be more honest to just stop making statements you don't plan on doing anyway, rather than being dishonest by saying them because they make it look like you are having relationship.
The other guy and I have gone really deep together many times. And then he disappeared without explanation from my life. Every once in awhile I will get an email or something from him saying he wants to talk, and then I don't hear from him again. The last one was just a couple weeks ago, and he wanted to connect and said he missed me and he valued me. I emailed back right away. Still haven't heard from him. The last time he did this was a couple years ago, and it was probably a couple years before that he did the same thing. Lots of desire, no follow through.
It seems that relationship must be really hard for both of them. I love them both, but I am hurt that they won't enter in with me, or follow through with something.
As I was writing this, the Revelation passage came into my head where Jesus says something like "I wish you were either hot or cold, but because you are luke warm, I will spit you out of my mouth". I think I am understanding a little more what Jesus was saying. I know His deepest passion was to be in intimate relationship with the people he was talking to. And they couldn't or wouldn't cut it. I know the feeling. I wish my two 'friends' would either let me know they would like to move on into other relationships, or they would like to really get into ours, but because they won't take any steps in either direction, it makes me want to throw up.
Where are the men who want to be men of their word? Where are the men who are willing to look in the mirror of relationship and see their lack of the ability to relate, and at least acknowledge it? It doesn't seem like such a big request - if you say you are going to do something, do it. Be a man who lives his word. That can be easily remedied by stopping saying things you aren't going to do anyway, or actually follow through. It isn't rocket science.
I know I sound angry. Probably because I am (funny how that works). It isn't my intention to judge or put down either of these guys. I just want relationship with them - I really do love them. They just won't enter in with me.
And suddenly I think about all the years my Papa longed, probably sometimes with anger, for me to be His friend. How He must have ached for me to just be with Him! I guess I am tasting some of what He tasted all those years I wandered.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
A Fun day under the house
Some jobs just suck. There are no two ways about it. Today's job was right below the lowest of suck levels, whatever that is. I had to insulate under the porch. Some guy named Mo or Ron (get it?) built the whole porch very badly and didn't insulate it at all. Not that insulating is important in the Rockies at 7500 ft where it gets colder than bananas.
It wouldn't have been so bad if Mo and Ron had dug out under the floor LIKE THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO! So I had 3 inches above my face as I lay in the dirt and raccoon poop trying to staple insulation onto the underside of the floor. That was the highest the floor got as I lay on my back in the filth. At the other end I was actually having to turn my head so my nose wasn't in the floor joists. A great recipe for a great day - 3 parts claustrophobia, 2 parts animal dung, 2 parts smashing 2 different fingers, and 1 part being allergic to insulation. It was a wonderful day!
I must confess that I don't know how to glorify God on days like today. The best I get is not interacting with anyone so I avoid ripping their head off in all the fun. There is this little voice in my head that says "How would Jesus handle this job?" and I don't have a clue how to answer it. Funny that he was never a home owner. The answer that usually comes in my head is that he would be patient and kind and loving and enjoy every stinking batt of insulation. But I wonder where we get those kinds of pictures of Jesus' behavior.
If He was tempted in every way I am tempted, then He at least had the same thoughts I had. It means He struggled with cursing. He probably didn't enjoy it at all. In fact, I wonder which is more off base - my shaming myself for not being like the Jesus in my head, or my picture of how Jesus would have been under the house? He was human wasn't He? His being 'fully in' the same sucky experiences we have is the whole point isn't it? That He became man to redeem man.
So He did it perfect, whatever that means. And because He did, I don't have to. I am fully and completely in His will under the house, as poorly as I did it, because He loves me so profoundly. It isn't about me - it's about Him!
It wouldn't have been so bad if Mo and Ron had dug out under the floor LIKE THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO! So I had 3 inches above my face as I lay in the dirt and raccoon poop trying to staple insulation onto the underside of the floor. That was the highest the floor got as I lay on my back in the filth. At the other end I was actually having to turn my head so my nose wasn't in the floor joists. A great recipe for a great day - 3 parts claustrophobia, 2 parts animal dung, 2 parts smashing 2 different fingers, and 1 part being allergic to insulation. It was a wonderful day!
I must confess that I don't know how to glorify God on days like today. The best I get is not interacting with anyone so I avoid ripping their head off in all the fun. There is this little voice in my head that says "How would Jesus handle this job?" and I don't have a clue how to answer it. Funny that he was never a home owner. The answer that usually comes in my head is that he would be patient and kind and loving and enjoy every stinking batt of insulation. But I wonder where we get those kinds of pictures of Jesus' behavior.
If He was tempted in every way I am tempted, then He at least had the same thoughts I had. It means He struggled with cursing. He probably didn't enjoy it at all. In fact, I wonder which is more off base - my shaming myself for not being like the Jesus in my head, or my picture of how Jesus would have been under the house? He was human wasn't He? His being 'fully in' the same sucky experiences we have is the whole point isn't it? That He became man to redeem man.
So He did it perfect, whatever that means. And because He did, I don't have to. I am fully and completely in His will under the house, as poorly as I did it, because He loves me so profoundly. It isn't about me - it's about Him!
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Salsa Parasite
I love salsa. I love the mild kinds that don't make you wish you could find a fire hose. I like the cilantro and tomatoes and onions and whatever else goes in there. I could eat pounds of salsa.
What's worse is that I have never made it. I have shopped the shelves at the supermarket for the perfect salsa. No dice there. I have found that the best salsas are home made. Every time I have had homemade salsa, it has been a treat. When I visit a friend's house and they have salsa, I always try to manipulate the relationship so I can get some to take home. I am what you might call a salsa parasite. I will mooch, lie, cheat, and steal to get good salsa. I admit it - I have no scruples. I am an addict. It's not my fault.
Having said all that, there is something redeeming in all this. (Being an ex-preacher, I have to find a lesson in everything, whether one actually exists or not). There is a profound difference between store bought and home made salsa. Given a choice between something that came off an assembly line and something that someone created in their own kitchen, I will take the kitchen every time. There is a person behind the product, not a factory. There is love and creativity and uniqueness in the homemade process. There is personality there. And because there is a person (and not a machine) behind the product, it is never the same twice.
My buddy John recently made some salsa. I have to admit it was really good. We were visiting he and his wife the other day, and when he pulled out the salsa, my eyes lit up. I tasted it, then ate most of what he had and pouted until he filled the bowl again. Then I mooched as much as I could get him to pile into Tupperware.
Tonight we had John's salsa for part of our dinner. Actually, I ate almost all of it by myself for dinner. (Laura chastised me for hogging it all, but I didn't have the least amount of guilt). Part of why I like John's salsa is that it was his. He made it. He loved on it. He decided what went in and what didn't. You could tell the heart of the chef in the salsa. And as my friendship with John has grown I have come to love and appreciate the wonder of who he is as my brother and friend. The salsa was particularly valuable to me because my friend made it.
God has given us an awful lot of really good things. Not just salsa, but a whole world out there to be tasted. When was the last time you could tell His heart for you in what he made for you?
What's worse is that I have never made it. I have shopped the shelves at the supermarket for the perfect salsa. No dice there. I have found that the best salsas are home made. Every time I have had homemade salsa, it has been a treat. When I visit a friend's house and they have salsa, I always try to manipulate the relationship so I can get some to take home. I am what you might call a salsa parasite. I will mooch, lie, cheat, and steal to get good salsa. I admit it - I have no scruples. I am an addict. It's not my fault.
Having said all that, there is something redeeming in all this. (Being an ex-preacher, I have to find a lesson in everything, whether one actually exists or not). There is a profound difference between store bought and home made salsa. Given a choice between something that came off an assembly line and something that someone created in their own kitchen, I will take the kitchen every time. There is a person behind the product, not a factory. There is love and creativity and uniqueness in the homemade process. There is personality there. And because there is a person (and not a machine) behind the product, it is never the same twice.
My buddy John recently made some salsa. I have to admit it was really good. We were visiting he and his wife the other day, and when he pulled out the salsa, my eyes lit up. I tasted it, then ate most of what he had and pouted until he filled the bowl again. Then I mooched as much as I could get him to pile into Tupperware.
Tonight we had John's salsa for part of our dinner. Actually, I ate almost all of it by myself for dinner. (Laura chastised me for hogging it all, but I didn't have the least amount of guilt). Part of why I like John's salsa is that it was his. He made it. He loved on it. He decided what went in and what didn't. You could tell the heart of the chef in the salsa. And as my friendship with John has grown I have come to love and appreciate the wonder of who he is as my brother and friend. The salsa was particularly valuable to me because my friend made it.
God has given us an awful lot of really good things. Not just salsa, but a whole world out there to be tasted. When was the last time you could tell His heart for you in what he made for you?
Monday, August 18, 2008
Fighting Normal
I guess I am like most guys. I get up in the morning. I putter with the things in my life I have to do. I wrestle with my personal demons and varying victories. Things are pretty normal most of the time.
I heard a guy say once that 'Normal' was a setting on a clothes dryer. I like that. The more I look at it, I realize that 'Norm' isn't my friend
Deep inside is this hunger to experience God more. I don't mean lightening coming from the sky or the earth opening up and swallowing something. I mean that I fight this glaze that grows over my life without my noticing. God could do something pretty incredible and within a couple days it is back to life as usual. How many times have I heard people say 'If God would only do something miraculous, then I would believe'. Yet I know that He does miraculous things often, and within 48 hours the thing He has done has begun to dull, to lose it's 'spectacular'.
I don't want to have to fight Norm. I want my Norm to be a regular experiencing of His grace and presence. I want to have eyes that see Papa in everything. I want to wake up in the morning with an awe that He made another day. I want to notice the little things and stand slack jawed in my overwelmedness. I want to celebrate all that He has given - especially the stuff that 'Normal' hides.
Normal isn't a good thing sometimes, and when it grows over the wonder of who He is and what He has done and what He is doing, I don't particularly like Normal. I see that religion does that - it quickly paints a glaze over a vibrant relationship with a personal God who is dieing to just love us. It gives us things to do and activities that seem like they would be fulfilling, but usually end up just making us over worked, over tired, and feeling guilty. I don't want more things to do. I want fresh eyes and ears to see and hear my Papa - I know He is right here, always.
So I guess I will continue to fight Norm. He hides around every corner. Lord, give me the faculties to erase the glaze of what always is and see the wonder of life around me that is always happening.
I heard a guy say once that 'Normal' was a setting on a clothes dryer. I like that. The more I look at it, I realize that 'Norm' isn't my friend
Deep inside is this hunger to experience God more. I don't mean lightening coming from the sky or the earth opening up and swallowing something. I mean that I fight this glaze that grows over my life without my noticing. God could do something pretty incredible and within a couple days it is back to life as usual. How many times have I heard people say 'If God would only do something miraculous, then I would believe'. Yet I know that He does miraculous things often, and within 48 hours the thing He has done has begun to dull, to lose it's 'spectacular'.
I don't want to have to fight Norm. I want my Norm to be a regular experiencing of His grace and presence. I want to have eyes that see Papa in everything. I want to wake up in the morning with an awe that He made another day. I want to notice the little things and stand slack jawed in my overwelmedness. I want to celebrate all that He has given - especially the stuff that 'Normal' hides.
Normal isn't a good thing sometimes, and when it grows over the wonder of who He is and what He has done and what He is doing, I don't particularly like Normal. I see that religion does that - it quickly paints a glaze over a vibrant relationship with a personal God who is dieing to just love us. It gives us things to do and activities that seem like they would be fulfilling, but usually end up just making us over worked, over tired, and feeling guilty. I don't want more things to do. I want fresh eyes and ears to see and hear my Papa - I know He is right here, always.
So I guess I will continue to fight Norm. He hides around every corner. Lord, give me the faculties to erase the glaze of what always is and see the wonder of life around me that is always happening.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Abused of God
It is funny how much my perspective of 'ministry' has changed. I remember thinking, at the very beginning of my journey, that ministry was something you did for Jesus. When I first heard about youth ministry, I thought "you mean I could serve God and get paid for it?" Suddenly ministry was a way to make money. Then there was the church ladder to climb - youth minister for a few years, then associate pastor, then lead pastor. All a safe and secure way to get paid - for the rest of my years- for serving God. That was ministry.
When I left the traditional church, I found that I took the same thought processes with me. 'Ministry' was serving God, but now I wasn't getting paid for it. That was okay. I just wanted God to use me and do great things through me. After all, wasn't that the whole point? I prayed for opportunities to do great things, and looked for people in need that God could use me to minister to.
The picture looks quite a bit different now. I see that my 'wanting to be used' by God was really a vehicle to keep me safely away from having to know God. I realized that it was far easier to be 'used of God' than it was to not be used - to just sit in the inactivity and really get to know His character and voice and friendship. I would have far sooner served - at least I knew what to do in that arena. But to only see myself as someone God would use, and not someone that God would want to be friends with put me in a stance of letting myself be abused, not loved. Let me explain.
I had the idea that God could do whatever he wanted with me. If it was special and made me popular, I wanted it. Then I realized one day the one-sidedness of my willingness to serve, so I opened myself up to do 'whatever' God wanted, including seeing myself in unsavory situations "for the sake of the call". If God wanted me to eat worms from a garbage heap and live with cardboard as clothing, I would do it. After all, many people in the world live like that. I would do whatever He wanted.
That makes for a great sounding sacrificial life, but doesn't reflect the character of God. That stance makes me look great as the completely willing servant, but it doesn't reflect the truth of who God is. It paints Him as a user and manipulator, not a lover who sacrificed for us.
So I am learning to be in relationship with Him first - to know and live in His love and desire for me to know him. If He wants to use me, that's His business. But I realize now that being used of God isn't relationship with God - or if it is, it is a very myopic view of His working in our lives. And I know that my Papa wants to know me more than He wants to use me. He wants to walk in relationship far more than He wants to use me toward His end.
Let me end with this thought - think about it. Would any of us choose to be in a friendship where the other person is all about using us to his own end? Or would we rather have a friend who is far more interested in us than in using us?
When I left the traditional church, I found that I took the same thought processes with me. 'Ministry' was serving God, but now I wasn't getting paid for it. That was okay. I just wanted God to use me and do great things through me. After all, wasn't that the whole point? I prayed for opportunities to do great things, and looked for people in need that God could use me to minister to.
The picture looks quite a bit different now. I see that my 'wanting to be used' by God was really a vehicle to keep me safely away from having to know God. I realized that it was far easier to be 'used of God' than it was to not be used - to just sit in the inactivity and really get to know His character and voice and friendship. I would have far sooner served - at least I knew what to do in that arena. But to only see myself as someone God would use, and not someone that God would want to be friends with put me in a stance of letting myself be abused, not loved. Let me explain.
I had the idea that God could do whatever he wanted with me. If it was special and made me popular, I wanted it. Then I realized one day the one-sidedness of my willingness to serve, so I opened myself up to do 'whatever' God wanted, including seeing myself in unsavory situations "for the sake of the call". If God wanted me to eat worms from a garbage heap and live with cardboard as clothing, I would do it. After all, many people in the world live like that. I would do whatever He wanted.
That makes for a great sounding sacrificial life, but doesn't reflect the character of God. That stance makes me look great as the completely willing servant, but it doesn't reflect the truth of who God is. It paints Him as a user and manipulator, not a lover who sacrificed for us.
So I am learning to be in relationship with Him first - to know and live in His love and desire for me to know him. If He wants to use me, that's His business. But I realize now that being used of God isn't relationship with God - or if it is, it is a very myopic view of His working in our lives. And I know that my Papa wants to know me more than He wants to use me. He wants to walk in relationship far more than He wants to use me toward His end.
Let me end with this thought - think about it. Would any of us choose to be in a friendship where the other person is all about using us to his own end? Or would we rather have a friend who is far more interested in us than in using us?
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
At it again
It has been less than a week since we got back from our men's backpack, and I find myself doing two things: sleeping from exhaustion, and dreaming about the next big thing. So either I am hopelessly addicted to backpacking, or there is a lesson here. I know the first is true. I think the second is as well.
Ever since I was a kid, I have looked forward to and lived great adventures. It has been part of who I am today and as long as I can remember. Lately I joined Facebook, and have been able to reconnect with kids from my youth group when I was a youth pastor. Only they aren't kids any more. In fact, they are older now than I was when I was their YM. That's scary! It seems that a few that I have chatted with seem to think that I impacted their lives in a positive way. When I look back, all I can see is dumb ass. But then, God did use Balaam's donkey......
I don't know if I taught them anything, but they seemed to have caught something from me. One of them parachutes. Another rides motorcycles. Another backpacks and camps. If they got nothing else from me, they got the adventure bug.
And I think that is my point. Life ain't life if there ain't any adventure. You can pass the time doing whatever job for whatever pay. That isn't life. You can buy all kinds of things and do all kinds of activities, and that isn't life either. Bringing adventure back to your life is simply throwing yourself into life without a reserve chute. It is fully embracing both the good and the bad that comes at you. Adventure is ultimately doing that with God - boldly walking with Him, regardless of the cost. I think some of those kids (middle aged adults now) learned that. And although I wasn't even close to a good YM, they seem to have grabbed the "grab life by the horns" theme, and are living it out. I see them living it out with their spouses, with their kids, with their churches. How cool to have somehow ignited a fire that still burns on some 20 years later. God really is good, isn't He.
What stikes me the most is that they are still walking with God, in varying degrees of struggle. I love that they are so honest. One told me she was just plain bored. I like that - the gut level vulnerability, the unashamed acknowledgement of truth. They are real - and isn't that the heart of the adventure; not having it all together, but hiking all the journey with heart full honest with God?
Ever since I was a kid, I have looked forward to and lived great adventures. It has been part of who I am today and as long as I can remember. Lately I joined Facebook, and have been able to reconnect with kids from my youth group when I was a youth pastor. Only they aren't kids any more. In fact, they are older now than I was when I was their YM. That's scary! It seems that a few that I have chatted with seem to think that I impacted their lives in a positive way. When I look back, all I can see is dumb ass. But then, God did use Balaam's donkey......
I don't know if I taught them anything, but they seemed to have caught something from me. One of them parachutes. Another rides motorcycles. Another backpacks and camps. If they got nothing else from me, they got the adventure bug.
And I think that is my point. Life ain't life if there ain't any adventure. You can pass the time doing whatever job for whatever pay. That isn't life. You can buy all kinds of things and do all kinds of activities, and that isn't life either. Bringing adventure back to your life is simply throwing yourself into life without a reserve chute. It is fully embracing both the good and the bad that comes at you. Adventure is ultimately doing that with God - boldly walking with Him, regardless of the cost. I think some of those kids (middle aged adults now) learned that. And although I wasn't even close to a good YM, they seem to have grabbed the "grab life by the horns" theme, and are living it out. I see them living it out with their spouses, with their kids, with their churches. How cool to have somehow ignited a fire that still burns on some 20 years later. God really is good, isn't He.
What stikes me the most is that they are still walking with God, in varying degrees of struggle. I love that they are so honest. One told me she was just plain bored. I like that - the gut level vulnerability, the unashamed acknowledgement of truth. They are real - and isn't that the heart of the adventure; not having it all together, but hiking all the journey with heart full honest with God?
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Living Exposed
There has been a theme developing in me lately. I realize that so much of my life is lived protected. When I drive, I do so from behind a windshield that protects me from bugs and rocks and wind and rain. When I go to the grocery store, I am protected from the heat or cold by A/C or an industrial furnace. The phone keeps me from really having to interact with other people face to face. Email keeps me safe behind a computer screen. My stove provides me with a safe little heat source to heat things, without me having to build a fire and find dry wood. And the god of my kitchen - the microwave - gives me whatever I want, when ever I want, without much inconvenience at all. Everything in my life exists to keep me alive and happy.
Think about it - Vitamins to help me stay healthy so I live longer. Safety glass so I don't get hurt; marked lines on the road that keep others from careening into my lane; airbags in front and to the side of me in my car; little reflectors on the center line of the road; security check points at the airport.........Should I go on?
All these things to keep us alive longer and safe. All of life's modern conveniences so life is a little more comfortable. But at what price? It seems that we have gotten so good at living protected and safe that we have forgotten to live. Our 'living longer' has surpassed our 'living'. Somewhere along the assembly line of safety, we forgot how to be fully alive.
I'm not saying we should live to endanger ourselves. I am saying that there is a reason people are unhappy in their safe little lives, because somewhere they traded safe and protected for being fully alive. When our survival is more important than our living, we start to die.
It is everywhere around you - that insulating layer we have created around ourselves to keep us safe from the bad things in life- the problem is that it has also insulated us from the good. How are we to hear our Papa's voice when we have set up such an elaborate system of distractions and safety systems that keeps us disconnected from anything real?
When was the last time you stood in the rain and just got wet? When was the last time you really looked your spouse in the eye and laid out something vulnerable and tender even though the chances of having it returned were null? When was the last time you turned off the air conditioning and rolled down the windows in the car and stuck your head out? When was the last time you felt fully alive?
I want to live exposed to all that there is in life. I know much of what I do might be foolish. But I want to feel the blood course through my veins. I want to know the hot and cold, even if for just a moment. I want to challenge that unconscious demand inside of me that says, without me even being aware of it, that I MUST be safe, I MUST be comfortable - ALWAYS! I want to live fully exposed to my Papa's love, uninsulated from anything He has given me. I want to be alive.
Think about it - Vitamins to help me stay healthy so I live longer. Safety glass so I don't get hurt; marked lines on the road that keep others from careening into my lane; airbags in front and to the side of me in my car; little reflectors on the center line of the road; security check points at the airport.........Should I go on?
All these things to keep us alive longer and safe. All of life's modern conveniences so life is a little more comfortable. But at what price? It seems that we have gotten so good at living protected and safe that we have forgotten to live. Our 'living longer' has surpassed our 'living'. Somewhere along the assembly line of safety, we forgot how to be fully alive.
I'm not saying we should live to endanger ourselves. I am saying that there is a reason people are unhappy in their safe little lives, because somewhere they traded safe and protected for being fully alive. When our survival is more important than our living, we start to die.
It is everywhere around you - that insulating layer we have created around ourselves to keep us safe from the bad things in life- the problem is that it has also insulated us from the good. How are we to hear our Papa's voice when we have set up such an elaborate system of distractions and safety systems that keeps us disconnected from anything real?
When was the last time you stood in the rain and just got wet? When was the last time you really looked your spouse in the eye and laid out something vulnerable and tender even though the chances of having it returned were null? When was the last time you turned off the air conditioning and rolled down the windows in the car and stuck your head out? When was the last time you felt fully alive?
I want to live exposed to all that there is in life. I know much of what I do might be foolish. But I want to feel the blood course through my veins. I want to know the hot and cold, even if for just a moment. I want to challenge that unconscious demand inside of me that says, without me even being aware of it, that I MUST be safe, I MUST be comfortable - ALWAYS! I want to live fully exposed to my Papa's love, uninsulated from anything He has given me. I want to be alive.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
The Eleventh Man
We just got back from our backpack trip into the Weminuche wilderness in southern Colorado. What an incredible experience! And what an incredible group of 9 other guys I got to hike with. Every one of them very different from the others - ranging from 19 to 64, from Canada to Texas, and from east coast to west - literally! We hiked 40 miles over every terrain known to man - got rained on every day, and saw the hand of God at every glance.
And what I took away from the trip was a profound sense of church. There was a presence that could only be in a gathering of brothers of common faith. We came up with a phrase on the trip. Since there were ten of us, we decided that Jesus was with us and he was the eleventh man. From that realization on we credited everything to that extra person in the group. And let me say that he carried more than his weight throughout the trip.
The guys on the trip could tell you about the talks they had with the eleventh man present. They could describe the times that extra guy lent more than conversation to the journey. His presence protected and led and motivated us all to be more than we thought we could be. It was a miraculous time.
So here's to the eleventh man on the trip. Thank you for your wonderful presence!
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