What do you do when you can't sleep because your brain is in a different time zone? I like to spend this time thinking about life, even though I'd rather be sleeping. In the past few days I've had the opportunity to reflect on how I'm living my life and how well I'm living as a Christian. I'm in the process of evaluating Christian Values from a Biblical perspective; my desire is to extract my cultural beliefs and ideals from my faith. Cultural Christianity isn't always Biblical Christianity. Given the size and scope of the Bible, as well as the reality of where I've grown up, this isn't an easy task. But we always have to start somewhere :)
Scripture Immersion-
I read the Bible 3-7 days a week. I say 3-7 because some weeks I fall off the bus and don't get to spend as much time reading it as I'd like. Other times its because I'm reading difficult portions of scripture, like the destruction of Jerusalem, and I need a break from the doom and gloom. Should Christians read their Bible? In the 21st century we believe this is a must. A personal must. But for 16 Christian centuries, the idea of a personal Bible was unheard of, Bibles were corporate property; they belonged to a community, not an individual. The point here is to spend time with Scripture, discussing what it means and asking ourselves difficult questions. This is best done in a group, not just privately by ourselves. I'm working on spending more time in groups discussing the Bible, not just hanging around other Christians. This is easier said than done, as not all Christians want to spend time evaluating their lives and asking themselves if they are living Biblically.
Giving-
I give 10% plus. The Biblical word here is tithe, which is Hebrew for one tenth. This fraction is an expression of giving a complete part of ourselves to God. In other words its a reminder to give all of ourselves, all of the time. Its also used in practical ways, such as supporting pastors, ministers, teachers and caregivers. When we don't give, the gospel and its mission goes unfunded. Tithing isn't just about an individual, its about communal support. If all Christians tithed and took care of the sick, poor and downtrodden, we wouldn't need government programs that do the same. I give more than 10% because I want to give more than what is required. I say plus because I don't really keep track of it. I remind myself that living the gospel isn't always about money, but personal costs such as time and effort. I give because I want to, not because I have to. Sometimes giving is hard, but I remind myself that God can meet my needs much better than a few dollars I earned at work.
Church Attendance-
This is a hot issue for me. Hot, as in it gets me fired up and looking for a soap box! I attend regularly; its rare for me not to be in a church on Sunday. I believe that we need to come together to hear the Bible, to listen to someone else's perspective, at least once a week. We should know whether or not the person teaching is preaching truth, or making it up. I've never left a group of Christians because the preacher wasn't a good speaker; I've left churches because preachers have been unbiblical: like always asking for money, focusing on emotions, focusing on self-help and focusing on disorderly spirit-led worship. I'm not always happy when I leave a church service, but I know that attending sharpens my faith and helps me identify truth.
Community Involvement-
I am involved in communities. I am not dedicated to a single one. I view this as somewhat of a personal problem that I haven't figured out how to solve yet. I want to bring my life into one singular focus, to not scatter myself all over the place. I'm working on it, but I'm also learning as I go.
Eating with Others-
This gets mentioned quite a bit in Scripture, and I'm just starting to get it. More often than not I eat alone; I'm too busy doing my own thing, going to my next community to stop and eat with others. I can grow a lot in this area.
Taking care of the Downtrodden-
I am regularly involved in an underserved community, with underserved youth, but to be honest, I suck at this. It's not a regular part of my life.
Prayer-
I pray. More often than not its on a regular daily and constant basis. I feel like my prayers have recently been weak, not much of a long term vision, but more hope and strength for the day. I pray a lot for my work, my small group, my basketball team and for other areas of my life. The problem is I spend a lot of time praying for me and those immediately around me. I need to spend more time praying for others.
As I look at my list I know its not complete. And it's clear to me I'm only doing the basics, that there's a communal aspect to my faith that I'm barely scratching the surface of. I'm doing the things I've been told I need to do: go to church, give, read the Bible, pray, but I'm missing out on the togetherness aspect of Christian life.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Monday, November 4, 2013
Injury
The hardest injuries to overcome are repetitive stress injuries and reoccurring injuries. Repetitive stress injuries occur from doing the same activity or motion over and over and over again. Reoccurring injuries stem from previous injuries They have names like tennis elbow and stem from too much of a good thing. I remember one of my earliest repetitive stress injuries, the inside of my elbows, which was not only a difficult place to mend, but almost impossible not to flair up while wrestling. The tendons in my elbows were separating from the ligaments, (think shin splints only in your elbows). Not only was this painful, but because of my wrestling schedule, it was a constant problem, and it followed me into my first tournament.
I wanted to win so badly I didn't care what it might cost me. My first opponent I finished pretty quick and my elbows didn't bother me. My second opponent took more effort, and my elbows were starting to flair up. Going into my third and final match for a title spot, I knew my elbows were going to be a problem. We were so evenly matched that by the third round I was exhausted and my elbows were on fire, but I needed one point to win. All I had to do was stand up and escape his grasp, hard to do when flexing your arm muscles hurts. I stood up and got slammed down. I stood up and got slammed down again. My coach was yelling, "Stand up! Stand up!" it was about all I could hear. I tried to stand up; I got slammed down again. The sixth time I got slammed back down, the referee awarded me a point because the slamming had become too violent. I won my first tournament because I refused to give up, despite the pain in my elbows. If I'd had any common sense, I probably wouldn't have won, but as a young freshman, winning was all that mattered. I cried out of joy and pain.
As a senior, I learned that some injuries were more serious than others. Having lost my junior season to a shattered hand, I was determined to win back the time I had lost. Winning mattered, but survival was more important. Fast forward to the day before the regional tournament. I got slammed into the mat at just the right angle to hurt my lower back. I knew that if anyone went after that injury, it was game over. Fortunately, no one did, and I fought my way into the state tournament. But state, which happened a week later, was a different beast. My back hadn't fully recovered, and I had the same mindset walking in, winning was important, but survival was key. What good is a state title without a lower back? I won my first match, no problems; I lost my second, no problems; and then I encounter the perfect storm: the Russian bear hug. It was literally the only move in my opponents repertoire: grab, squeeze and throw. It worked because he outweighed me by at least 10 pounds of muscle. So he grabbed, squeezed, threw and I escaped, but I knew my back couldn't take much more. I didn't push my limits and walked away with a healthy back. I cried out of disappointment and frustration.
My lower back has been a reoccurring injury because of a fallen left arch, that and maybe being slammed into the ground too much :). A lot of the exercises I do are effected by my lower back, and protecting it while strengthening it has been my primary focus ever since high school. When my lower back starts hurting I have to assess what I've been doing, how I've been doing it and if I've been letting my body rest and recuperate. It still flairs up from time to time, which makes me rethink and reconsider my actions: am I doing too many exercises, am I lifting too much weight, am I exercising too long, too hard, etc. I also know that doing nothing causes more pain, than doing something; my lower back feels healthiest when I exercise regularly. I walk a fine line between growth and pain, disappointment and frustration. When I get overly zealous for too long pain is around the corner, and the best thing I can do when I'm in pain is to back off and lighten up my exercise.
I believe these same principles apply to our spiritual lives.
My spiritual life has had similar re-occurring injuries. I'm very passionate about truth, and I can't stand lying. I've know a handful of men in different cities who have said one thing and done another, particularly in the area of physical purity. Sex. And relational boundaries. One of the most damaging experiences of my life was when a man I looked up to, and was hoping to intern under, left the ministry due to an inappropriate relationship. I had fought to get in the door, to try and make something happen, as most college students do, only to discover the truth. I pursued my ministerial studies, but decided going 'home' was no longer an option (I was attending college in a distant state).
I've never questioned that decision, survival was more important than winning. Fast forward to the end of college and the end of summer, and yet again I'm trying to get in a door that just won't open. I feel like I'm not taken seriously as a candidate, and then they ask me to come in on the day my parents need my help to move (I was living in an adjacent state). What was more important? A job? The idea of pursuing a position within a religious organization? Or taking care of my parents? Survival was more important than winning.
I found myself in the Midwest. No job, little money and trying to figure out what my next move was going to be. Having no where else to turn, I prayed and I fasted. I prayed and I fasted until I headed south to Texas and landed a job at the YMCA: working a dollar above minimum wage; living with my aunt, uncle and two wonderful cousins.
I had been to their church once while in college, and had really liked it, but when I tried it being a local, something smelled wrong. It didn't fit. I didn't want to be a part of it. At all. I said some harsh things, and I commuted to help a start-up church an hour away; in the 2nd hottest summer on record, without AC. I found a small community of loving, but broken people, and it was worth the drive. Every time.
Fast forward to the end of my first summer. The smell I didn't like was coming from the lead pastor who was involved in an inappropriate relationship. He was out. I was looking for more local work, and felt convicted about separating my two communities; no one would know if I was miss-stepping on the other side of the metroplex. I wanted to bring my two communities together, but I wanted to go anywhere but my aunt and uncle's church. I had recently moved out and wasn't excited about the idea of going "where I was supposed to go". Having set my eyes on a different but local church, I tried it. It didn't smell bad, but it didn't fit either. I walked out frustrated, wondering why it didn't fit. I didn't want to become a church shopper. I wondered if there were any other churches who had a service happening within the next few minutes. The only one I could think of was my aunt and uncle's church. So I be-grudgingly gave it a second chance. And I liked it. I apologized to them for my harsh words.
It wasn't perfect. (Is there such a thing?) but it was good for the moment. I got plugged in, tried an internship, and completed a school year's worth of time. Sort of. I gave up Sunday attendance to help the YMCA open its doors to a Hindu-based philosophy group. I'm still figuring out how to accurately describe it. For six months I disconnected from the Christian sub-culture. I stopped listening to music. I stopped listening to sermons. I read my Bible every day and once a week I met with a small group of men for breakfast. The book we were reading was entitled, "Radical: taking back your faith from the American Dream" I guess it wasn't too much of a surprise that I started seeing Christianity differently than I had seen it before. I started to see the sub-culture: the things we do that are not part of the gospel, and the more I saw them the more I disliked them.
After six months of sub-title reading and loving on a different community I was tired. I liked standing out in that crowd, but I also liked standing in. It was wonderful to be invited to participate, to share home cooked Indian food, to play sand-volleyball. But I knew something was missing; I wanted to go back to church. I arranged to serve the Hindu based group bi-weekly, and went back to church. It was weird. It felt foreign. It didn't make sense. And suddenly I knew how everyone who had never been in a church felt when they walked in the doors for the first time. Like an alien. Yet, I heard the truth. The unmistakable sound of the truth, even though it had a hazy shroud of culture around it. And the truth warmed my heart and told me that feeling like an outsider was okay. That the gospel was preached not to an inside crowd, but to an outside crowd.
Fast forward a few months. I had moved to a new city, started a new job and was looking for a new church. Everything was still within driving range (about an hour) but I wanted to be a part of the community I had surrounded myself with. I tried the church across the street. It was odd, but due to my recent experiences with feeling odd in church, I resolved to give it a good chance. And then it got too odd. Repetitive odd. Repetitive painful. As I started examining the sub-culture, it got even odder. I couldn't see or hear the gospel by what they were doing. I got angry. They were misaligning the truth. And I was giving in because I wanted to fit in.
I quit going.
I intentionally skipped the following week.
In the intermediate time I managed to give voice to my frustrations. Not everyone understood. Some thought I was a church breaker, a heretic or an atheist philosopher. That I was trying to lead people astray by saying that Sunday attendance isn't all its cracked up to be, that its not the pinnacle of the Christian life, that there are more important things, like living our values and seeking truth, than just staying in one place because its comfortable, normal and easy.
I went back to a church the next week. I Google searched the words 'Irving' and 'Church'. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that I ended up going to Irving Bible Church! What I thought was a small church of two-hundred or so turned out to be several thousand, and one of the largest churches in the metroplex. Go figure. But I gave it a chance. And I liked it. I also rode my bike to it on my first Sunday and discovered that churches really don't have bicycle parking, nor is it normal to carry a helmet with you into a service :)
But I liked it and I felt welcome AND I heard the truth. And as I have been to this church on a regular basis and have become a small group leader its starting to feel like home. Which is something I've really missed ever since I left my previous home in Washington. There's something really nice about being in a stable community and seeking after God. Its the foundation of Church. But its not THE foundation of the Church: Jesus is. And Jesus spent a lot of time on the road journeying from place to place. He encounters a lot of people on the road, and some of the best stories we keep telling are about the transformations that happen along the way. Not the planned stories that came from stable communities, but the unplanned ones that happened during communal upheavals.
I believe in stable communities. They are great places to grow and grow deep. But I also believe in the strength that comes from being tossed around by the wind, of finding our way, even though we're not entirely sure where we are going. The direction we end up going isn't as important as the compass we use to guide our lives: Jesus.
This is why I believe that taking time off from church attendance can be healthy and beneficial. That sometimes we don't have to force our faith, that we don't have to manage it, even though we cling to it. That we can find ourselves sharpened by experiences that should dull us, and find planned sharpenings oddly dulling. Faith isn't a dead object for us to shape; it's a living breathing entity. It's a part of us, just like our elbows and our lower backs. There are times we can push them to their limits and there is a time we should refrain and protect them. But above all we must keep using them. Just because they have been hurt once and have the possibility for reoccurring and repetitive injuries, doesn't mean we can give up on their usage. We shouldn't have to sacrifice our bodies, we should be sacrificing our lives. Which require pulling back, rest, recuperating and living to fight another day.
I wanted to win so badly I didn't care what it might cost me. My first opponent I finished pretty quick and my elbows didn't bother me. My second opponent took more effort, and my elbows were starting to flair up. Going into my third and final match for a title spot, I knew my elbows were going to be a problem. We were so evenly matched that by the third round I was exhausted and my elbows were on fire, but I needed one point to win. All I had to do was stand up and escape his grasp, hard to do when flexing your arm muscles hurts. I stood up and got slammed down. I stood up and got slammed down again. My coach was yelling, "Stand up! Stand up!" it was about all I could hear. I tried to stand up; I got slammed down again. The sixth time I got slammed back down, the referee awarded me a point because the slamming had become too violent. I won my first tournament because I refused to give up, despite the pain in my elbows. If I'd had any common sense, I probably wouldn't have won, but as a young freshman, winning was all that mattered. I cried out of joy and pain.
As a senior, I learned that some injuries were more serious than others. Having lost my junior season to a shattered hand, I was determined to win back the time I had lost. Winning mattered, but survival was more important. Fast forward to the day before the regional tournament. I got slammed into the mat at just the right angle to hurt my lower back. I knew that if anyone went after that injury, it was game over. Fortunately, no one did, and I fought my way into the state tournament. But state, which happened a week later, was a different beast. My back hadn't fully recovered, and I had the same mindset walking in, winning was important, but survival was key. What good is a state title without a lower back? I won my first match, no problems; I lost my second, no problems; and then I encounter the perfect storm: the Russian bear hug. It was literally the only move in my opponents repertoire: grab, squeeze and throw. It worked because he outweighed me by at least 10 pounds of muscle. So he grabbed, squeezed, threw and I escaped, but I knew my back couldn't take much more. I didn't push my limits and walked away with a healthy back. I cried out of disappointment and frustration.
My lower back has been a reoccurring injury because of a fallen left arch, that and maybe being slammed into the ground too much :). A lot of the exercises I do are effected by my lower back, and protecting it while strengthening it has been my primary focus ever since high school. When my lower back starts hurting I have to assess what I've been doing, how I've been doing it and if I've been letting my body rest and recuperate. It still flairs up from time to time, which makes me rethink and reconsider my actions: am I doing too many exercises, am I lifting too much weight, am I exercising too long, too hard, etc. I also know that doing nothing causes more pain, than doing something; my lower back feels healthiest when I exercise regularly. I walk a fine line between growth and pain, disappointment and frustration. When I get overly zealous for too long pain is around the corner, and the best thing I can do when I'm in pain is to back off and lighten up my exercise.
I believe these same principles apply to our spiritual lives.
My spiritual life has had similar re-occurring injuries. I'm very passionate about truth, and I can't stand lying. I've know a handful of men in different cities who have said one thing and done another, particularly in the area of physical purity. Sex. And relational boundaries. One of the most damaging experiences of my life was when a man I looked up to, and was hoping to intern under, left the ministry due to an inappropriate relationship. I had fought to get in the door, to try and make something happen, as most college students do, only to discover the truth. I pursued my ministerial studies, but decided going 'home' was no longer an option (I was attending college in a distant state).
I've never questioned that decision, survival was more important than winning. Fast forward to the end of college and the end of summer, and yet again I'm trying to get in a door that just won't open. I feel like I'm not taken seriously as a candidate, and then they ask me to come in on the day my parents need my help to move (I was living in an adjacent state). What was more important? A job? The idea of pursuing a position within a religious organization? Or taking care of my parents? Survival was more important than winning.
I found myself in the Midwest. No job, little money and trying to figure out what my next move was going to be. Having no where else to turn, I prayed and I fasted. I prayed and I fasted until I headed south to Texas and landed a job at the YMCA: working a dollar above minimum wage; living with my aunt, uncle and two wonderful cousins.
I had been to their church once while in college, and had really liked it, but when I tried it being a local, something smelled wrong. It didn't fit. I didn't want to be a part of it. At all. I said some harsh things, and I commuted to help a start-up church an hour away; in the 2nd hottest summer on record, without AC. I found a small community of loving, but broken people, and it was worth the drive. Every time.
Fast forward to the end of my first summer. The smell I didn't like was coming from the lead pastor who was involved in an inappropriate relationship. He was out. I was looking for more local work, and felt convicted about separating my two communities; no one would know if I was miss-stepping on the other side of the metroplex. I wanted to bring my two communities together, but I wanted to go anywhere but my aunt and uncle's church. I had recently moved out and wasn't excited about the idea of going "where I was supposed to go". Having set my eyes on a different but local church, I tried it. It didn't smell bad, but it didn't fit either. I walked out frustrated, wondering why it didn't fit. I didn't want to become a church shopper. I wondered if there were any other churches who had a service happening within the next few minutes. The only one I could think of was my aunt and uncle's church. So I be-grudgingly gave it a second chance. And I liked it. I apologized to them for my harsh words.
It wasn't perfect. (Is there such a thing?) but it was good for the moment. I got plugged in, tried an internship, and completed a school year's worth of time. Sort of. I gave up Sunday attendance to help the YMCA open its doors to a Hindu-based philosophy group. I'm still figuring out how to accurately describe it. For six months I disconnected from the Christian sub-culture. I stopped listening to music. I stopped listening to sermons. I read my Bible every day and once a week I met with a small group of men for breakfast. The book we were reading was entitled, "Radical: taking back your faith from the American Dream" I guess it wasn't too much of a surprise that I started seeing Christianity differently than I had seen it before. I started to see the sub-culture: the things we do that are not part of the gospel, and the more I saw them the more I disliked them.
After six months of sub-title reading and loving on a different community I was tired. I liked standing out in that crowd, but I also liked standing in. It was wonderful to be invited to participate, to share home cooked Indian food, to play sand-volleyball. But I knew something was missing; I wanted to go back to church. I arranged to serve the Hindu based group bi-weekly, and went back to church. It was weird. It felt foreign. It didn't make sense. And suddenly I knew how everyone who had never been in a church felt when they walked in the doors for the first time. Like an alien. Yet, I heard the truth. The unmistakable sound of the truth, even though it had a hazy shroud of culture around it. And the truth warmed my heart and told me that feeling like an outsider was okay. That the gospel was preached not to an inside crowd, but to an outside crowd.
Fast forward a few months. I had moved to a new city, started a new job and was looking for a new church. Everything was still within driving range (about an hour) but I wanted to be a part of the community I had surrounded myself with. I tried the church across the street. It was odd, but due to my recent experiences with feeling odd in church, I resolved to give it a good chance. And then it got too odd. Repetitive odd. Repetitive painful. As I started examining the sub-culture, it got even odder. I couldn't see or hear the gospel by what they were doing. I got angry. They were misaligning the truth. And I was giving in because I wanted to fit in.
I quit going.
I intentionally skipped the following week.
In the intermediate time I managed to give voice to my frustrations. Not everyone understood. Some thought I was a church breaker, a heretic or an atheist philosopher. That I was trying to lead people astray by saying that Sunday attendance isn't all its cracked up to be, that its not the pinnacle of the Christian life, that there are more important things, like living our values and seeking truth, than just staying in one place because its comfortable, normal and easy.
I went back to a church the next week. I Google searched the words 'Irving' and 'Church'. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that I ended up going to Irving Bible Church! What I thought was a small church of two-hundred or so turned out to be several thousand, and one of the largest churches in the metroplex. Go figure. But I gave it a chance. And I liked it. I also rode my bike to it on my first Sunday and discovered that churches really don't have bicycle parking, nor is it normal to carry a helmet with you into a service :)
But I liked it and I felt welcome AND I heard the truth. And as I have been to this church on a regular basis and have become a small group leader its starting to feel like home. Which is something I've really missed ever since I left my previous home in Washington. There's something really nice about being in a stable community and seeking after God. Its the foundation of Church. But its not THE foundation of the Church: Jesus is. And Jesus spent a lot of time on the road journeying from place to place. He encounters a lot of people on the road, and some of the best stories we keep telling are about the transformations that happen along the way. Not the planned stories that came from stable communities, but the unplanned ones that happened during communal upheavals.
I believe in stable communities. They are great places to grow and grow deep. But I also believe in the strength that comes from being tossed around by the wind, of finding our way, even though we're not entirely sure where we are going. The direction we end up going isn't as important as the compass we use to guide our lives: Jesus.
This is why I believe that taking time off from church attendance can be healthy and beneficial. That sometimes we don't have to force our faith, that we don't have to manage it, even though we cling to it. That we can find ourselves sharpened by experiences that should dull us, and find planned sharpenings oddly dulling. Faith isn't a dead object for us to shape; it's a living breathing entity. It's a part of us, just like our elbows and our lower backs. There are times we can push them to their limits and there is a time we should refrain and protect them. But above all we must keep using them. Just because they have been hurt once and have the possibility for reoccurring and repetitive injuries, doesn't mean we can give up on their usage. We shouldn't have to sacrifice our bodies, we should be sacrificing our lives. Which require pulling back, rest, recuperating and living to fight another day.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
A letter to my small group
Hey Everyone,
I will be leaving for Australia on Friday and I'll be out until Black Friday. And since that's Thanksgiving weekend, I think it's safe to say we should be spending time with family and friends.
What should we do in the mean time? Since Jacob's not around does that mean that we can't meet as a small group? No. My presence is not required for meetings, nor is any authority required for any of us to gather together in part or as one.
?
Let me explain. Ideally we could all meet together every week. Practically, we know this isn't true. Honestly, I respect that life happens unexpectedly, but practically we can plan ahead most of the time.
In the past few weeks, group attendance has been low, but the quality of the conversation has been high; it's been wonderful to get to know those in attendance and practically discuss how the gospel is affecting our lives. How it effects the jobs we're in, how we interact with our co-workers, how we interact with our family, and how we interact with our pets (I couldn't leave Mindy out of this could I???)
It has been a blessing to spend uninterrupted and unplanned time talking about life & God. Some of our meetings have gone 4 hours, some only 1, some have ended exactly on time. While I recognize this as a blessing now, I didn't see it that way from the start.
My modus operandi is to manage and plan. To have a checklist and do everything on it. Always. All the time. Even if its a proverbial checklist that only exists in my head. It has to be right. It has to be accomplished. It has to be done when it needs to be done. The way my brain works is not the gospel of our LORD Jesus Christ. Jesus faced numerous interruptions, set backs and as far as I can tell didn't have a checklist of things he needed to do, and boy did he get stuff done! Jesus had greater efficiency with less planning. Which doesn't exactly fit my modern mindset.
If Jesus is my LORD and Saviour, then I need to do as he did and practice what he preached, which means letting go of the small group checklist. The study guide? We're not using it anymore. I personally blanched when I heard they were coming out with a new and 'improved' version. the gospel is about people, not management, even though great management can help people grow. I don't think management is what our group needs to grow. And I apologize that in our early meetings this is what was nonverbally communicated.
What are we doing in place of the study guide? Reading the Bible. Or asking the question, what did you think about the sermon? And I'm also discovering that we all aren't making it on Sunday.
It's okay.
?
Let me explain. The Sunday Service is for the edification of the body. If attending on Sunday is not edifying don't do it. If when you think of attending on Sunday, all you hear is the crack of the whip, don't go. Still seek God, still seek Christian community, seek edifying dialogue about this thing we call faith, and you will grow. And maybe you'll come back to Sunday, as I did.
?
Let me explain. I have a love hate relationship with the Church. I'm trained to be pastor, but finding my way into a christian community has been hard; I've felt like an outcast since college. And I've only wanted to be a part of a church where they accept outcasts. Where they find a way of encouraging the lost and confused and help them become whole. And let me tell you I've found a lot of fraudulent churches on my journey.
In some ways I've seen the worst, but I've also had the opportunity to see greatness in the ugliest of places. I've seen so much love in the smallest places that when I go to the larger ones I wonder what happened. Even so, I've seen ugliness in small places and true beauty in the largest ones. Its not the size of the building or the number of people inside that determines our ability to follow the gospel. That responsibility falls on us, our communities are supposed to help us, but even when communities fall and break apart we have the choice to stand by our values or to give them up.
In my own personal brokenness I have struggled with this idea. That even though I hate what I have seen, and hate the actions of some Christians, I am still a representation of Christ. That the bad name they generate for me, my friends and my family is one I will have to live with, and its one I must opposed. Not with angry words, not with my talents, but with my heart and the way I choose to live every day for Christ.
Even in christian circles, this is not always accepted. It's even frowned upon because it upsets the status quo. It sends out the message that we are imperfect and have work to do, even though we want to believe we have everything together. Living like Christ is a threat to those who do not want to honestly face their Creator and humble themselves before him.
I had to separate from the church for a while before I could understand this. And even in my coming back, the church is still a strange place. The customs I once found normative and comforting now seem strange, alien and foreign. My mind practically grasps how our christian cultures have been formed, how our traditions have taken place, how we have walked away from the person of Jesus. And I'm learning how to walk like Jesus, even though most days I trip and stumble.
I choose to carry on, because I believe in Christ, and what's he's done for me. What he's done for us all. I do not choose to be labeled a Christian because of what a religious organization called a church is, says, or does, but because of who Jesus is. He is someone I want to be like. Even if that means people think I'm a fraud, liar, heretic or some other form of common slur.
My prayer for your journey is that you find out who Jesus is. I can't give you a booklet to guide you on your path. I can suggest that you read the Bible and talk to God, and I can't tell you how you should do that, but I can tell you that if its a part of your daily efforts it can change your life. It's changed mine; its still changing mine.
So as our holidays come and we go our separate ways, go in peace. Go in the knowledge of our LORD and Saviour. Walk with God beside you, let him walk beside you, everywhere you go.
The purpose of our group is to glorify God and help each other. May that be who we become.
Amen.
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