Thief on a cross

Here we are.

Tried and convicted to death.
Fully knowing the depth of or shortfalls,  our failures,  or brokenness... our humanity.

Crucified.   Together.
Taking the physical punishment demanded of our flesh.

But we are not alone.
A King hangs between us, sharing in the physical agony we endure.

He knows our pain, as we all share in this suffering, together.

He mediates for our sake; to God, to one another.

Who would've thought that community would, or could, be modeled like this.

Shallow

The shallowness of our religion is openly displayed in the depth, or lack thereof, of our interaction with our communities.

If we can't articulate our own relationship with the Almighty, how are we supposed to think that we'll be effective in any way sharing that with a world who doesn't know Him?
     Unless we don't really have that relationship, and we're just riding on the coattails of those who do...

The world can smell our in-authenticity.

If you show up with a hummer limo, a fellow blogger, and your beautiful and perfect family in the middle of a city, claiming that you're going to "bless some homeless guys today", then all you do is clean them up, give a haircut and a shave, buy some clothes and food, and tell them in the back of the limo that "homelessness isn't God's plan for you", congratulations.
     You get a gold star on your get-to-heaven-checklist; you did a major good work to bless someone.

Here's what you did:
You addressed the immediate need in someones life, you provided a service they were unable to provide for themselves.  Hell, they may have even enjoyed themselves for a little while.
You also may have insulted them, talking about 'how good God is' to you, but what about the man you just pulled off the street?  Might as well tell him that God doesn't love him, because he lives on the streets.  You've successfully associated God's love with materialism, and nothing could be further from the Truth.

Here's what you didn't do:
You didn't ask him to tell his story.  You didn't ask how, or even if, God was doing something in his life; you didn't even ask if he knows God.
You failed to address God's sovereignty in this man's life.  Maybe living as a homeless person is part of God's plan for their life.  (But you'd have to ask God to know this, and listen to Him tell you that.)  Maybe, just maybe, God is developing a faith in them to do something unimaginable to you... after all, Christ had no roof over His head, and he sure didn't drive around all the places he went in a hummer limo.
You failed to look for the reason(s) behind this man's lack of shelter.  But that would require engagement on a more personal level; that would require a relationship, and that would require admitting that people actually live in an existence far different than yours.
You failed to 'teach a man to fish'.  You've given him something to eat, but not equipped him with a way to get more food on his own.  Again, that would require doing something that takes time, mental effort, and compassion.

What happens to this man when you're done with your good deed for the day?
You drop him off, right where you found him.  He adds the 2 bags of new clothes to his meager possessions, which he rummages through to find another hat, since now his hair is gone.

How is any of this good??  How is this sharing a kingdom which counters the existence they live in?
You might feel good about yourself; you might even admit it.

The deeper we are in relationship with God, the more He gives us His heart for humanity.  This is God's kingdom.
"Loving" goes farther than just feeding and clothing; it implies interest in the well-being of your neighbor, the person closest to you.
"Loving" implies concern for the total well-being - physical, mental and spiritual.

If we're only addressing one of those needs, then it is we who are falling short.

Imminent Crossroad

The sick, the infirm, the lost, the broken, the ill-informed, the ignorant, the grieving, the stricken, the hungry, the blind...
     All among us now; have always been among us.

But now it's closer to home; they are the people we know, the people we care about.  We can't ignore them any longer.


Do we truly believe?  Do we know from experience the reality of the kingdom promised?

Do we live that reality, or have we not yet acknowledged the pain of the world around us that demands "thy kingdom come"; that begs for it?

Do we validate the reality that we all exist in; or do we continue to ignore what we're not directly affected by?

Do we hold firm with our slipping grasp onto only what we know, what we've seen before; or do we look forward with eyes opened to an old promise made new again?

Do we sacrifice our normality, and walk a new path - one that has no traditional instruction, but demands constant guidance from the One who calls us to the death of our own motives; or do we keep thinking that God won't use me?

Are we carrying a cross, or is the Cross carrying us?

At this new crossroad, do we move forward into the unknown, into the promise; or do we return to the powerless crutches of our past...

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.