Old & New

We fight change.
It's our nature.

In the midst of this massive shift the church is going through, we find ourselves running in circles in response to things we've never seen before.  Things that used to work aren't anymore, ministries that we call "effective" but aren't getting any of the expected responses, and dwindling numbers leave most scratching their heads.

Unable to look beyond its own experiences, the church is unable to do anything other than what it has always done.  As an observer of the response of the church, my favorite song says it best ("When They Come For Me" by Linkin Park) "...even a blueprint is a gift and a curse, 'cause once you got a theory of how the thing works, everyone wants the next thing to be just like the first".

The church, which was born out of the mind of God and fleshed out by Jesus, began as a flood driven by the tide of compassion and a new way of living.  Jesus challenged everything humanity had become, apart from God.  He challenged the mindset that humanity had taken on and embraced; of separation, of opulence, of superiority.  He challenged the status quo.
     The culture of the day had no problem separating people who wouldn't, or couldn't, buy into their mentality.  After all, it's easier to separate those who are different than to acknowledge any disparity or pain they may be living in.

Jesus acknowledged pain and suffering in the lives of humanity; in fact, took it upon Himself.  Not so we wouldn't have to, but as a slap in the face of a culture that won't recognize or deal with pain.  This passion for the reality of life, and how to deal with it, is what would bring about His Church.

As the church grew, the more it began to take on the same characteristics of the societies around it.  The church, instead of being counter-cultural to the world around it, became a duplication of the very culture it was supposed to be countering.

But, over time, the church has morphed into a place where very rarely is pain addressed, let alone acknowledged or validated.  (Obligation-driven) charity comes out of the church, but as a thin red line so distant from original intent that its purpose has become perverted.

When the church is no longer addressing the pains of humanity; when the church is following its own agenda and ideas of self-definition rather than its leader, it ceases to be effective.  When human leadership of the church is not equipped to handle the suffering of this life, we've become our own empire; an empire that hires people to sweep the garbage either under the rug, or out the door completely.


And yet, God is doing something new.  A restoration of His Body, a spring cleaning, a purification.  All the crud is floating to the surface to be dealt with or removed.

For some in the church this is catastrophic.  For others, it's refreshing and life changing.  And for even others, outside the church, or victims of the church in the past, this is the first time they've been told that they're even included in what God's doing; that they, (no matter who, what, or where they are) have a part to play in God's love.

This isn't to say that this restoration process is easy, it's quite the opposite.  The rose colored glasses issued at the door of the church are now broken... we can now see the brokenness of humanity as a whole, inside and outside the church, and we're humbled to learn there's no difference.  Now we can see the pain, now we can see the anguish.  And we are no longer able to sweep any of it under the rug.

We struggle with the mindset change, we struggle with the expectations that are falling to the floor.  We're learning to be human again.  Compassionate, thinking, and crucified humans.  Just as we're designed.

If we don't know heartbreak, or suffering, or pain, or anguish, or destitution, or loss, or hunger, then we truly don't know what love is, or what freedom is, or what joy is, or what being blessed really is.

God is reminding us what it's like to experience these things, so that we can come alongside our brother or our sister, with a fresh and real understanding of compassion.  We're learning that the things we endure or suffer through may not always be for our benefit.

He's reminding us of our weaknesses, and showing us each other's strengths, so that through Him, we stand together, whole.

He's showing us that the once familiar church roles and responsibilities aren't so anymore, where community is replacing the institution; where we may not be learning or gaining strength or encouragement from pastoral figures, but from other members of the Body.  And He's showing us that that's okay.

He's shedding new light on ancient understandings, breathing new life to once dead words, and reviving His living, breathing, loving, weeping, broken Body.

Infestation

We never know there's a problem, because it's always the last thing on your mind.  We just continue on with our lives, as if nothing is wrong.

But ignoring it doesn't make the problem go away;  it just grows and spreads, without your awareness, feeding on our lifeblood.
It hides, only showing itself in the dark places, attracted to our waste; and that's what ends up bringing the problem out into the open.
By the time we realize there's a problem, we're covered in the evidence of it, and we can't ignore it anymore.  Neither can anyone else we come in contact with.

When we finally take stock of the problem, we'll see it everywhere, with eyes now drawn to all its evidences.
We realize that it has infiltrated so much, that it weaves and crawls, in and out, sneaking into the seams of the very fabric we rest on.

There's no way to tackle the problem discreetly; once the problem is known, it must be addressed head on, full force.

The only thing that gets rid of the problem is prolonged, extreme heat; sending the infestation out of hiding, seeking refuge in our darkness, only to be burned alive upon exposure to the searing heat.

Everything has to be cleaned, individually assessed, to ensure the infestation can't spread.

The process is time consuming, tedious, and painfully humbling in the attention it brings.  All our dirty laundry is left out for all to see as we break it all down and clean it all, piece by piece.

The cleansing takes time; time that could be spent on better things in our lives, or so we think.  But we'll only continue to ignore the problem if we don't address it thoroughly, in it's entirety.

Once we admit the issues brought on by this infestation; the causes, the continuation, and the alleviation; our entire life is different.

Because of the effort it took to clear it, we've become vigilant and aware of it's presence.

Determined never to have to deal with this again, every preventative measure is taken to make sure we're not re-infested.  One of the by-products of this vigilance is the awareness of the infestations in the lives of others.

It seems like never ending work, because the infestation is everywhere.  We are soon able to tell if others are willing to recognize and admit their own infestation.
If not, well, they'll just have to learn the hard way.

Like we did.

God help us.

Some mornings I hate the freedom the internet gives us.
That's a little harsh, because, well, here I am, on the internet.  I'm sure there's plenty of people who read what I write, and disagree just as much, so I need to chill for a minute.

(Breathe.  Think.  Breathe.)

I think what really bothers me is that the ones with the biggest followings, or the most influence (in the terms of reaching the most people) aren't addressing the horrible things we experience with the fullness of grace that we're called to.  (Myself included.  Believe me, I've spent a good thirty minutes bouncing off the walls in my house, venting my frustrations and anger at people's generic statements, usually in colorful terms.)

(Breathe, think, breathe.)

Mental illness and depression (and suicide) are hot topics again today, because now it's public knowledge of a celebrity's struggle with these things.
And, all of a sudden, everyone's an expert.  Dealing with it your whole life does not make one an expert, it makes someone who has a perspective worthy of adding to the discussion.

As I see it, and don't crucify me (I can do that well enough on my own, thankyouverymuch), the things we each go through are just as individual to us as our fingerprints.  Not one person lives the same exact life as someone else.  No one has the same experiences, the same family, the same emotions, the same brain, the same hormones, the same work ethic, or even the same faith.
Because of all those differences, how each one of us responds to our life experiences differs, as well.

The same can be said for illness.  Mental illness has been likened to cancer, in that it's a disease; a malfunction in the proper operation of the body.
There are different kind of cancers.  Some are slow progressing, easily detected, and treatable; while others are quick, aggressive, ruthless, and leave us shaking in the wake of a life gone too soon.
Because of all the different kind of cancers, there are different kinds of treatments. One treatment may work for some kind of cancers, where the same treatment may be completely ineffective for others.
In order to treat cancer, the doctor has to know the patient, know the disease, and know the treatments.

In the case of depression, just as with cancer, there are varying degrees of depression; each as individual as the lives of the people who struggle with it.

Internet experts may state that 'finding your joy' is the trick to beating depression.  And maybe that worked for them, and it may actually help someone else who fights their depression.  God willing, I pray it does.
But for those who struggle with the agony of opening their eyes each day, this advice is more than likely going to be received with a retaliatory punch in the throat; especially when the advice is delivered with what could be perceived as condescension and false expertise.

As those who follow Christ, we have a responsibility to one another.  That responsibility is a call to love, with grace and compassion.
Grace and compassion allow us to see one another as fellow human beings; as people, all of us broken in some way, shape, or form.  Whether we can see each other's brokenness isn't the point, neither is it to point out the brokenness, or offer our quick fix solutions.  We're just called to be there.  To share our lives.

The more deeply we become involved in one another's lives, the more we discover that our "kitsch Jesus" doesn't answer the tough questions in life.  Simple, one-liner, crutches (most of which lack any theological truth) won't help those who may be drowning in darkness.  If we look carefully, we'll see that our kitsch Jesus mentality steers us clear of any of the darkness in this life, as well as the darkness in the lives of others.  Our kitsch Jesus mentality keeps us on a pedestal of our own creation, zinging one-liners out to whoever we see below us.  After all, we have all the answers (in one line)... what would we ever need God for??

If we treated each person we met with the 'one-liner-fixes-all' mentality, then we're missing out on the beauty of the love and healing of Christ, that, Newsflash: He uses us for, in the lives of those around us.

To love, as we're called to love, is to de-elevate ourselves; deflate the importance of our self-imposed beliefs for the sake of sharing love and truth with someone.  To love is to be connected.  The value of our relationships become evident in our presence with one another, not in our correctness.  (Think about it... is there anyone in your life who always has to be right?  We don't end up spending much time with them, do we.)  To love is to value you, just as you are.  Just as I am.  And to realize that what worked for me in certain situations may not work for you, and that's okay.  You are not me, and I am not you.  Acceptance of that truth alone may just change the way we look at each other, and respond to one another.

If we were to spend time together, getting to know one another, instead of advising and judging one another, we might just see how our presence in each other's lives makes our story go on just a little bit longer.  In the life of someone battling mental illness, depression, or suicidal thoughts, that may make all the difference in the world.

Together, we might just be able to hold off the darkness.
Even if it's just for one more day.

Snapshots of Eden

The sun had just dipped behind the treetops on the horizon, giving way to twilight.

As the night creatures emerged, something else did too.  Innocence crept in, and I almost missed it.

Weary from our day of being cooped up in the car, the gut-twisting meals on the go, and ridiculous eye-rolling and laughter generated by silly music blasting through the car's speakers; when the car finally stopped, all four doors burst open, and our energy could finally be released.

Greeted by the cool evening air of this northern valley, the first relaxed breath exhaled "home".  Not the "home" we lived in now, but the "home" of memories and dreams.

Hugs and kisses; excited expressions of familial love dispersed.  We sat to catch up, take in assessments of well-being that just can't be done over the phone.

Attention spans being what they are, it didn't take long for the kids to find something to do.
Because of the boy's familiarity with the settings (and his lack of fear which allows him to enjoy every moment), he grabbed the girl, and they ran off into the deepening shade of the yard.

Socks and shoes off, I could tell she was taking it all in.  She'd never been here before, so she wasn't quite ready to leave his side to explore on her own.

Once he showed her around, pointing out everything they saw, I felt her relax from across the yard.
Without her even knowing, it happened... she let go; triggered by the soft flash of the firefly in front of her face.
Their careful exploration transformed into a carefree chase, the quintessential childhood memory played out before my eyes.

The noises that punctuated the young night are forever etched into my memory; the wonder of it all thickened the air around us.
Squeals of discovery and surprise, faint whispers of up-close and detailed instruction, and muffled giggles turned into unashamed belly laughter.

If only this moment could last forever; this moment where two kids, almost midway through their teen years, could forget about their everyday lives.
For those few moments, I caught a glimpse of innocence in these two kids, who hadn't experienced much innocence in their own lives for any prolonged amount of time.
For those few moments, the rest of the world didn't matter to them.
   Time stopped... watching and judging eyes stopped...  and so did their cares and worries about them.

It caught my breath to see this side of them; my role in their lives being very much of a confidant and counselor; very aware of the emerging adult-like issues they face every day that try to steal or conceal their childhood.

Whether they realized it or not, this moment was a treasured gift to me.

These moments don't happen very often, but when they do, they're a reminder of the potential for innocence to return at any moment.

Quick - Abandon Ship!

Abandoning ship seems to be the quickest and easiest way for us to deal with problems.

As human beings in our relationships, as well as human institutions, when things don't go our way, our ingrained fight-or-flight instinct causes us to walk away, close doors, or even run.

See, it would take actual C O U R A G E to stay and fight for something, to stick it out, to work through a conflict, to communicate through misunderstanding, to own up to our own shortfalls and mistakes.

But we're so focused on ourselves, our wants, our needs, and our time lines, that we fail to see the big picture.  We fail to see the possibility of God's timing in each situation.  We fail to see how our own actions of self-absorption may affect those on the other side of our perspective.  And more often than not, we fail to offer grace, mercy, and forgiveness with anything other than our lip service.

Connection and community, if they're anything worth pursuing, are fluent in those three concepts.
We get hung up on ourselves, though.
It takes love to offer grace, mercy and forgiveness.

As long as I'm in the center of my universe, I don't care how you are affected by what I do.

As long as 'what I want' is my priority, then I cannot forgive how you may act or speak against that.

As long as my focus is on me, then I will continue to be offended by anything different than me.

As long as I am offended, I will refuse to see how I could have done anything wrong.

As long as I refuse to take any responsibility for my relationships, my relationships will continue to fail.

As long as perspective stays centered on my life and experience, then connection is impossible.

As long as we keep ourselves in the center of our concerns, love has no hold on us, and we are unable to offer grace, or mercy, or forgiveness.  We will have no long term connections or relationships.

As long as I am the most important thing in my life, abandoning ship will always be the way I deal with anything that counters my worldview.

It takes courage to admit that you're not the center of the universe.
It takes courage to admit you did something wrong.
It takes courage to not be offended.
It takes courage to Love.

It takes courage not to abandon ship.

Sunset

The sun set before it reached the horizon tonight.  In it, I watched the decline of the church.

We know it's going to happen, but we can't see the layer of clouds off in the far distance that blur the line between the horizon we can see & the horizon that never ends.  

In the blink of an eye, it's gone.  

She hadn't even reached the point where she would've begin sinking beneath the dividing line between earth and sky,  and yet, she's gone.

Our own limited eyesight, paired with laws of the universe set in motion in the beginning, prevented us from seeing the sun set prematurely, and from doing anything about it.

All we can do is watch as the star we worship disappears.

What If...

What if we bonded together with the desire to learn more about one another, to know one another, instead of only banding together on thoughtless, polarized issues?

What if conversation to understand one another was our goal, not just powerless claims of our beliefs; loud statements on where we stand, silently screaming "I'm right, & I don't care why you think the way you do"?

What if we took to heart the wisdom that tells us to love our neighbors as we love ourselves, instead of placing ourselves on our altars of worship and life?

What if we shared more of our experiences and relationships, instead of our opinions?

What if we rallied around victims of injustice and gave them power back over their lives, instead of stepping into the recently-vacated position of perpetrator?

What if we could answer, intelligibly, the question of why we stand where we stand?

What if we shared the freedom of relationship in our spiritual lives, instead of trying to dictate rules for everyone's life, and calling that faith?

What if we saw people, and treated them like a brother or sister, instead of using anything and everything to divide us, and further separate us?

What if we let love drive our relationships, instead of fear, judgement, self-preservation, and self-exaltation?

What if we didn't run from people, relationships, and lives that challenge us?

What if we didn't look down our self-righteous noses at anyone who thinks or believes differently than we do?

What if we embraced those who think differently, or act differently, or look different than we do?

What if we saw the world that's "going to hell in a hand basket" as our opportunity to be the church as she's supposed to be?

What if we didn't shy away from conflict, or from connection because of our own discomfort?

What if we sought God in each situation, and in each relationship before we spout off at the mouth?

What if we left the judgement up to God, and actually offered people the opportunity of relationship with God, outside of our judgement?

What if we took personal responsibility for every one of our relationships, desiring "connection" more than "correctness"?

What if we allowed ourselves to be accountable to those we're learning from, and those learning from us?

What if compassion outweighed our hypocrisy?

What if our presence alone was more powerful than our judgements, suggestions, or rules?

What if people really encountered the love of Christ by knowing us, instead of running from the image of god we've created?

What if who we are, individually and corporately, is ten times more powerful than anything we do in the name of religion?

Derailed; we've become more of a misrepresentation of the Kingdom we claim than an expression.