Sojourning

Sometimes life takes you places that you don't want to go, and away from the company that you'd rather keep. Looking back on my travels I can see the truth in that, and to some extent it grieves my heart to know that the friends I've had and left behind I might never have again until Eternity. Even this last move, that was only 15 miles down the road from where I was, I now start to miss things about the place I've just left. The fellowship and common purpose that is, not the mess. But I guess that's the thing about life is that, at times, it seems kind of aimless and meandering. In these times it's easy to feel the dissonance of experience and faith. The lack of resolution that comes from the perpetually unanswered question of why. But I wonder what it is that is in us that expects anything better than cosmic silence. What it is that demands that we have stability now, in a world that's turbulent because of our lack of righteousness. That's one of the greatest things about Christianity, the fact that God isn't afraid to let us feel the weight of time, and the burden of experiencing life outside of eternity. He isn't afraid to let us deal with what we've done, and at the same time he promises eternity to those of us who are willing to fight our unbelief for his sake, and sojourn through this life on his terms, even when his terms seem to do us more harm than good. I see through a dirty glass, and even the unclear image of Heaven is overwhelming to me, and the desire for it is, maybe, more intense because I know that were it not for God's purposes I would not be here. But I can always look forward to the moment when my life here will seem like a shadow passing, and I feel the freedom that my heart cries out for.

Musings

I don't really know what I want to write right now, but I figured that writing is better than not writing. I've been thinking about a lot lately, especially the passage of time. A weird thing to ponder I know, and I should probably find better things to do with the time I have right now rather than looking back one things that have been, and never again will be. But life is funny like that, it seems like there are a million things that tear us away from where we are right now, in the instant. Plans for the future, or frustrations from the past. But neither past, present, nor the future have ever really been in our grasp.
We've just built cute little towers of illusory controls out of our jobs and our hobbies. Trinkets to distract our hands from rending our garments. Don't get me wrong, I don't think we should rend our garments....we'd have to buy new clothes if we did. Keep the trinkets, they're God given in a sense. Like the stories that parents tell their children to distract them from the monster that they believe is under the bed. They talk just long enough for the child to fall asleep. Grace is a lot aspirin, helping us to deal with the worst of ourselves while we wait for that sweet day when even grace and faith pass away into knowledge, or at least take on new meaning. That brilliant morning when all the preaching and evangelism, all the pain and the confusion simply stop. Then, the trinkets will become something different, something animated and real. Like hopes that put on flesh to walk with us as friends, and talk of the beauty that they have been allowed to convey in this life.

Remember The Coming Return

Out Of The Mud

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, especially since I had known the person for over two years. It was a simple message at a YWAM community meeting in Holland near the end of our European outreach. Just some worship songs, a piece of reader's theatre, and a short message. For those of you who know me you wont be surprised that the minute the opportunity to speak had presented itself my hand shot into the air (as it always does). I'm not a spotlight hog, nor am I one of those people who is always gunning for the center of the stage. I wanted off the stage all year actually. But I do love to teach and preach, I guess it's something about helping people to see God in a different, more orthodox way, that really appeals to me. I've fallen flat on lessons a couple of times of course, but that's true about every aspect of performer, teacher, or Pastor. Anyway, I digress. I saw the question coming, "Have you prayed about it?" Well, of course not I thought to myself, did you see how fast my hand went up....not exactly a whole lot of time to pray there. I didn't say any of that, I just kind of stammered and looked confused which apparently said a lot more than I would have verbally. The next statement was "I don't want you to volunteer unless you're sure God is laying a specific message on your heart." My next thought was probably not very sanctified...so I'll spare you. Long story short, I confirmed my conviction to speak and went to pray and prepare. A great message came to me during that time.
The next installment of the saga was being informed that my message was to be a testimony of God's goodness throughout my experience of the accident. Well, that's sort of what it was so I affirmed it, and agreed (though tactfully substituting the word message for testimony). An accident testimony would've sounded like this...I almost died, but I didn't. I went through three invasive and dangerous operations and came out the other side with a stiff neck, and occasional kidney pain. Oh yeah, and my wife and I are quite in as much debt as we should be. As the week waned on I began to get confused about whether I should rock the boat and deliver the message, or submit and do what my leader had said I was going to do. I prayed about it and decided that it would be better to be on my leader's bad side than the Lords. I'm not too keen on boils these days after all. Besides I had my convictions to consider, and the soundness of the message speaking something specifically constructive for people to hear. I wasn't going to short people out of a meal by offering them a candy bar that just taste good and distract them from the true meal they should have had. The message went great, and the people at YWAM Holland were touched and edified. The only people on my team that had anything to say were my wife, and my friend Wells. I was discouraged.
That experience catalyzes a lot of thought into the general over spiritualized atmosphere of modern Christianity. Most Christians these days would rather pray and cry of Africa than actually go there and help, and there is a general thought that good intentions should count for something? What will happen to the church when my generation takes leadership just to sit in a circle for an hour so they can say "We really moved the Heavens that time."? The hungry will still be hungry, and the Gospel will be lost. Actions, and rational thoughts are spiritual too, we don't need to pray about somethings like charity, or where to go on missions trips. We can look at the needs around them, and sacrifice ourselves to meet them, we can look into our hearts and realize that we've always wanted to go to Nepal, or India. Christianity, when it's simple, is more dangerous to it's practitioners. So, we've complicated things through the guise of spirituality, and touchy-feely candle lit worship services. We've traded the real Jesus for one that gives a thumbs up for our complacency and says "Hey man, don't worry about it, what could you have done anyway?"

Musical Fusion

I think music is one of the most fascinating aspects of life in our neat little world. Genesis never says anything about God creating sound, but as we know scientifically sound is a direct reaction of vibrations traveling through an atmosphere. Don't get me wrong here, I do believe that sound was an intentional part of creation. But, it's organization into music is something far more than natural. Looking at the world around us, there are lots of creatures who grunt, trumpet, or squawk to communicate with each other. Some bird calls may be called singing, but they're nothing like that in fact, God just made their means of communication beautiful and pleasing to hear.
Music is different, it's man's harnessing of the natural world around us. Our participation in the great motion of the spheres. When musicians tune to a 440A what they're actually doing is tuning themselves to the note that the earth itself makes while it spins. How's that for organic? All this to say, I love playing music, I love hearing a song and adding my two cents to it, letting it grow into it's own entity and statement. I love talking to my fellow band mates through my instrument. Using something so raw and natural instead of words seems to cut through the fog of the "that's good for you, but it's not for me" kind of world. Instead appealing to some intellectual defense, it pulls at the essence of man. Wrenches his gut, lifts his soul, and strikes like a sanctifying hammer when the song rings true. Sadly these days, "music" is made on the assembly line in Los Angeles, and most of it says nothing. But art is always like that. The popular media acts as the opiate of the soul, numbing it into hiding, and lulling it to sleep. But, there are still those artists out there whose work, through the spirit, stirs my spirit out of slumber and touches the eternity that I've been given.

Go and be soul full

What Are We Afraid Of?

More often than not I find myself in a position of struggling between love and hate for the corporate church. For those who may not be used to that term, it means the visible church. The one that meets on Sunday morning and gossips about who raised their hands in worship that day....or who didn't depending on which side of the coin your church is. Church provides a really necessary service in the lives of us sojourners here on Earth, but if you're like me at all, you've noticed that there's a lot missing. The experience of God's fullness seems almost nowhere to be found, I've spoken with people who claim to dwell in this fullness in an experiential way, but I'm suspicious. And should my suspicions be unfounded, well then...I'm downright jealous.
The more I ponder on the "experience of God" the more it seems to travel into my head instead of my nerves and limbs. I'm unsure as of yet whether this is good or not. But one thing is for sure, I do not get ruffled easy these days. I know that God loves me, and I know that he's saying it in every circumstance of my life. Every chance encounter (even the bad ones). I've met pastors, and seen churches where this experience of God is the driving force behind their services....no communion mind you...just laughter and shaking. Or some guy laying on the ground screaming "Freedom!!!" like he's William Wallace. My suspicions don't just arise at that point...they erupt, and most of the time I have to leave before I start laughing at people. If I don't leave....I just tell people that God is showing me his sense of humor....through them. God really is funny though.
My church is into communion, liturgy and acting as if we believe what we read. Every Sunday is a massive injection of orthodox biblical Christianity. And that's the way we all want it. But, despite the soundness of my Pastors preaching, there is no missions effort, and very little evangelism from Joe Schmoe in our church. Alas, when the doors shut to keep in the air conditioning, they trap in a lot more than that. Sadly, though I see the problem, I do little to change it. But on the other hand, I am not here to fix the church...not now, not ever. I'm hear to defend the teaching of scripture and worship Jesus Christ (and those things I will do ferociously), all else amounts to the trifles of a mind with too little to do. Jesus is coming back after all, none of this stuff was ever meant to be perfect by it's own accord, but to be transformed into perfection when this dirty globe turns to chaff and burns away. Christ's righteousness is far from experiential most of the time, but it's still here, and still attributed to those who believe. So, stop trying to wash your own robes, and start asking Jesus to give you new ones.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. " ~John the Evangelist

The Pleasant Taste Of Dust

The Bible tells us that God uses all things for the good of those who believe in him, I believe that with all my heart. Most of the time I find myself holding on to that notion like Linus clings to his blanket in the Peanuts cartoons. I've come to realize that the good that is mentioned in that passage is the conforming of our sinful identity into the image of Christ. All of these trials we face are meant to transform us in the spirit into that very transcendent person who bought our redemption so long ago. And in the midst of these troubling experiences is a choice; a core decision with eternal implications. All that being said, it doesn't really make any of these experiences easier to go through. I don't really think Job spent his time looking for a silver lining to his boils or his destroyed home and family. So here is where we all sit. Here in the midst of this burning earth and the broken pottery shards while the best of human reasoning blows around us like a storm of dust clouding our eyes. We know the questions we ask "What is God saying?", "Did I do something wrong?", "Has he forgotten?". I can't answer any of those, nor can anybody else for that matter. They aren't bad question either, and don't let anybody tell you any different. These are the thoughts of those who relate to God, those who know him face to face. The truth is that we are pilgrims passing through the veil of this world, living in two places at once. For us, peace and suffering hold hands while they walk down the street. Each spurring the other forward to new depths and testing the new richness of each experience.

"Two paths diverged in a wood; I took the one less traveled, and it made all the difference."

"For the gate is narrow, and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few."

"There will be an answer. Let it be."

Morning Thoughts

My bag of tricks is small and dusty, worn thin and stretched by use. But it's all I've got, so I keep reaching in trying to stir some glorious thing out of the dust, and occasionally it works. So I keep reaching in and getting my fingers dirty hoping for something interesting to appear in my hands. Sometimes I pull out nothing but dirt, and the wind scatters it from my hands.

More chaff gone out into the wind.

But gone isn't gone, my bag still holds dust, and my fingers are still dirty. But life is funny like that I guess. Outside of the eternal perspective it's hard to see that eternity lies behind a thin veil. A thin dusty veil that is.