Jesus Has Left the Building

Sunday, October 10^th, was declared “Mormon Tabernacle Choir Day” by the Governor of Utah.  How do I know?  Well, instead of finding a local gathering of believers to worship with last Sunday morning, we decided to visit Temple Square and hang out with the Mormons.  I figured it was sort of that ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do’...or, ‘When in Salt Lake City, Utah’ sort of thing.

We were picked up bright and early by the cheerful ‘missionaries’ who provide a free shuttle from the campsite to the Temple (free is always a great thing!).   They told us how to act and what to expect during the service (it’s a televised event, so there are rules).   Those that manned the large iron gates were eager to welcome us; “We’re so glad you’ve joined us” was mentioned half a dozen times by each person we met.  Needless to say, we felt very welcomed.

...So far, this was kind of like going to any “regular church.”

Strange, really.  There were lots of similarities.  Great music - the Mormons can really sing!  (There’s nothing like 350 voices singing in perfect pitch and harmony.)  There was a short, simple message; we’re talking 7 – 8 mins max.  The gyst: “Don’t harbour bitterness.”  Can’t disagree with the content... or the length.  The lighting, the boom camera, the production value: definitely, on par with Willow Creek; the only thing missing was the jumbo-tron!

The thing that was missing, if you were really looking for it, was Jesus.  In fact, the show was so great and the music so good, you could have almost missed it.  But truly, Jesus was pushed to the side.  In fact, I think He’d left the building...

The people we spoke to claimed Jesus; we just didn’t see Him anywhere.  Isn’t that the real issue with the broad range of those who claim Christ?

We can wear the smile and welcome others.  We can have great music and an up-lifting message, and we can have great production value -- all the bells and whistles, really.  We can even praise Jesus in Sunday morning gatherings; there is still the question:  Do the lives of Christ-followers look different from the lives of others?  Every day?  In every choice?  If we were honest, would we admit that most of the time Jesus is an ad-on in our lives; kind of like insurance?  Or, has Jesus left the building?

As John Piper writes in his book God Is the Gospel:

The critical question for our generation – and for every generation – is this:  If you could have heaven, with no sickness and with all the friends you ever had on earth, and all the food you ever liked, and all the leisure activities you ever enjoyed, and all the natural beauties you ever saw, all the physical pleasures you ever tasted, and no human conflict or any natural disasters, could you be satisfied with heaven, if Christ was not there?

Are we really in love with Jesus, and do our lives reflect that love in the way we live, and not just how we gather on a Sunday?  Am I?

I think my prayer right now, for the body of believers called “Christians,” would take the words of A.W. Tozer, from The Pursuit of God: 

O God, I have tasted Thy goodness, and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more.  I am painfully conscious of my need for further grace.  I am ashamed of my lack of desire.  O God, the Triune God, I want to want Thee; I long to be filled with longing; I thirst to be made thirsty still.  Show me Thy glory, I pray Thee, so that I may know Thee indeed.  Begin in mercy a new work of love within me.  Say to my soul, “Rise up my love, my fair one, and come away.”  Then give me grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty lowland where I have wandered so long.

Wired

From the Badlands of South Dakota to the plains of Wyoming, we finally figured out where the dear and the antelope play!  The view, in every direction, has been nothing short of spectacular, a real feast for the eyes... and soul. 

As someone who feels more at home in any big city, and never had any impulse to hug a tree in her life, there is nothing like seeing nothing for a very long time. 

Matt dragged me up to Algonquin when we first got married. Dense, green nature really doesn’t do it for me.  Perhaps because I’m allergic to most trees... and the idea of bears-around-the-bend somehow trumps that oh-so-peaceful feeling.

There is something about the barren beauty of this land.  You can see for miles, with no hint or stain of any civilization.  I feel like I’m in a western movie, just without Tonto and his horse, and those cowboys who stole this land to begin with... (I digress). 

To see the colours that God chose to paint this part of the world with – a thousand hues of gold, brown, green, blue, pink, purple and grey; the artist in me is freshly inspired.

For example, it’s so good to be writing again, something that’s been shelved for a very long time.  I am deeply grateful for this time to dream and imagine.  It feels utterly indulgent to have time to put pen to paper, write songs, and to even pick up my camera again. 

Perhaps part of my to-be list is to remember how God has wired me.  I love the canvas. I love the possibilities of what could be.  I love to begin, and to set things in motion.  I love to dream and envision, and try and fail... and try again.

There is something different, however, this time round. Unlike the years I labored over creating and striving to succeed, when it was all about what I wanted to be and say, this time all I want is to reflect God’s glory... to be a small part of His story.  To listen and then create.  To hear and then write.   

More than anything I want to hear you God, and only then live out loud. 

“His word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones.

 I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.”

[Jeremiah 20:10]

To-Be List

It’s a funny thing leaving everything behind, letting go of stuff, cramming what belongings you think you’ll need into 250 square feet and trying to figure out where to go first. And here we are at the beginning of October – already.  Time is fleeting and the days already feel like they’re being measured. 

Amazing, what a challenge it is to find a rhythm to life, where ever you may be.  We are so wired (in North America) to live according to ‘what’s coming? What’s next?’  Just to live in the moment requires us – no, forces us - to look at what it means to be content.  Content with who we are, content with where we are, and content with the task at hand, no matter how simple.  Everything in our culture seems to push us away from being content.  Even during a sabbatical old manners of thinking kick in, and I struggle to be content.

“Relax,” Matt says. Easier said then done. It’s a challenge to be still anyway, but this is part and parcel of why we’ve left…  

We’re all hard-wired for rest, but if God is not invited into each moment, how easy it is to be swallowed up with restlessness; something I didn’t expect from being on sabbatical.  Questions so easily push the moment to the side:  Where should we be? What should we be doing? How much time is left? ...And, suddenly contentment has left the building!

My to-do list (even during this Sabbath time) need to be exchanged for to-be list.  And I think the prescription for learning to live in the moment is thankfulness. To be thankful changes everything.  The kids are teaching me this.  In every place we’ve camped, no matter how broken down (and let me tell you, some places have been humble), the kids have found something to be thankful for.  A play park, a new dog, a friend to meet...

“Be still and know that I Am God.”

You know what’s next, God.  Thank you for this very moment, this day and our daily bread. Thank you for my kids, my partner and best friend, and this journey you have us on...

The Real Thing

They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe, and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.  – Acts 2:42-47

Deeply moved.  Those are the words I come away with from our time in Chicago.  Nothing like meeting people living out Acts 2, and not just talking about it on a Sunday morning.  People determined to live without, sharing all, so they in turn can serve the poor, simply because they love Jesus. 

I am reminded of how this journey for Matt and I began, with a book called “Irresistible Revolution,” by Shane Claiborne.   If you haven’t read it – please do so (and prepare to walk away deeply challenged).  That was the first of many books that God used to wake us up to His heart for the poor, and His invitation for us to join Him in bringing His Kingdom here.

It’s been a three and a half-year journey for us, and finally we’re getting to meet communities living it out.  The neat thing about the two intentional communities we met in Chicago -- Jesus People USA & Reba House Fellowship, is how different and unique their expressions of being the Church were.  I’ve been told there is no prescription for living out God’s mission in this world, but truly you can taste the real thing when given a chance, and still see the originality with which they live out the gospel of Christ. 

Let me be clear, in case I over-simplify or romanticize what we saw: In all my conversations with people, like Debbie, Cindy, Andrew and Kate, there was such honesty about how hard it is to live in community and serve the poor.  In every conversation, they spoke about God using this to shape them and stretch them till it hurt; you could see pain mixed with joy in their faces as they spoke. The crucible theme seems to continue.  Only these folks have chosen it!

“For everything in this world tries to pull us away from community, pushes us to choose ourselves over others, to choose independence over interdependence, to choose great things over small things, to choose going fast alone over going far together.”  - Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution

Dare I hope that creating or being part of something like this is what God will write on our blank page?  Truth is, I’d also be relieved if He doesn’t...

Thank you JPUSA & Reba House for welcoming us so warmly.  It was inspiring to be with you...

The Crucible

Blaise signing in...

And, so we leave again.  No fanfare this time.  No one waving good-bye.  What was this time all about?  This month and a half, filled with fear and worry and waiting?  This crucible, if you will? It’s usually in retrospect that we are able to assign meaning.  But I do have my suspicions...

We’re leaving as different people.  Two people (with two kids in tow) that know God’s nearer than before.  Two people reminded that they need God more than ever.  Reminded: He is one to be pressed into, sought after, run to – desperately. Our default button is often set to ‘convenient’, not ‘desperate’, much less ‘passionate.’ During this last month we were forced to desperately cry out to Him, like no other time in our lives, and He was so faithful.  He drew near, through people and prayers, through doctors, friends and family; He drew near.  What a privilege... so much to be thankful for.

It would be wonderful if that was that, neat and tidy, lesson learned.  But to be honest, I think more and more that the next few months are going to continue to be a crucible of sorts... My sense is that a critical part of this Blank Page is about what God wants to do with our character. Not such a sexy thing, really.  Much less-cool than God giving us the next great thing to do for Him!  It says in the Bible that He’s faithful to complete the work He began in us... (Phil 1:6)  Let’s be real - there’s more than plenty for Him to chip away at and mold, much less finish in these two people (with two kids in tow). 

A scary prayer for any of us to pray if we mean it:  Continue to transform us into the likeness of You so that we may reflect Your glory...

Psalm 121

Blaise again...

I lift my eyes up; where does my help come from…?(Psalm 121)  A friend just sent this song to me; a reminder of the One who holds us in His hand during this strange and unfamiliar time.  As I listen to it, there is a deep ache that washes over me.  The only words that seem to make their way to my lips are - help my unbelief. 

I was finishing up the book ‘Becoming the Answer to Our Prayers’ (by Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson Hartgrove) the other day, and this short quote from Mark 9 jumped out at me - ‘I believe; help my unbelief’.  I can’t seem to get past this line.   It feels so very honest at this moment in our lives.  When it comes to healing and prayer and our circumstances and questions, like where is God… help my unbelief feels like the only prayer I can muster up.

I do believe, but I am made aware of the enormity of uncertainty; the un-knowable.  Following Christ, taking up our cross, counting the cost…these are questions that will never have neat, pretty answers… And somehow we have to be okay with that.  The great I AM is not to be comprehended.  Period.

Lord, help my unbelief…

The Other Side

Hey, Blaise here...  

On the other side is where we are.  The other side of Indiana’s biopsy at Sick Kids. The other side of leaving and coming home.  We are home.  Waiting for results.  Waiting and wondering what’s next...? 

A funny thing, being back where we started; we’re made aware of just how blank the page is.  Far more so than being on the road.  At least on the road, we’ve got our trusted GPS!

It was almost 10 months ago when I sat up in bed and spoke the words “it’s a blank page” to Matt lying next to me.  That moment came after months of restless conversation, one after another.  Finally -- an image, an idea; a vision for something to come.  So we prayed and planned and thought and sought to offer God -- us.  As completely as possible, and without the stuff and the to do’s, that we assumed were ours to have and to do. 

Simple enough idea: a page on which He could write His will for our lives.  Blank, clean…and without. 

And now here we are on the other side, somewhat shell-shocked.

It would be a lie to say we haven’t looked at each other more than once and said, “What were we thinking?” Was this blank page thing some over-romantic idealism?  Was that image even from God, or something from my own zealous imagination? 

The glare from our page is just about blinding at the moment.  Truth be told, the only thing I can see poking through are the faces of our beautiful girls. All of us waiting; with no house, no jobs, no agenda, no place to be.  Feels like we’re in-between something… waiting for something to be delivered… nowhere.  A pregnant pause. 

It’s a time to be still, for Indi’s healing.  It’s a time to be still for each other. 

And I am amazed at how in the moment we really are.  I wonder if God’s smiling at the blankness.   I do know He’s waiting with us.  I know because we’re surrounded by love, from family and friends.  And they are His presence with us.