Done with Church? (Part 1)

For those who are "done" with church:

You have no idea how excited I am for you!  I'm sure that's probably the last thing you were expecting to hear from anyone, especially since making the decision to walk away from church. 

If you have already announced your decision, in no matter which form, you've probably caught some static from the people around you.  If you haven't made your decision a matter of public record yet, don't worry, you'll be catching all kinds of crap when you do.  Whether it's from the people in the church, or family, or neighbors, or whoever; whether it's in the form of people questioning you, or talking behind your back, or even people completely writing you off and never talking to you again; your social circles will probably change.

This is going to be an exciting time in your life!  No more bondage to Sunday mornings!  One more day on the weekend you can sleep in, one more morning to catch up on the Sunday news shows, one more morning you have to do some recreational Walmarting.  

I totally feel your pain; I have been in your shoes before, standing right where you stand right now.  I know what it's like to be involved in a church.  Have the family involved, be at all the functions, show up when the lights are on.  Doing your Christian duty, doing the God-thing on Sunday mornings, tithing and praying and reading your Bible and serving, or at least trying to...

Yet something's not right.  You can't really put it into words, or even put your finger on what it could be.  There's no fulfillment from any of the serving and attending and bible studies you're doing.  Every once in a while you get the idea in your head that you're really not doing anything more than going through the motions.  This can't be all there is to being a Christian... is it?  

You tried ignoring those feelings, and agreed to push through the uncertainty, listening to sermon after sermon on mustard seeds and proper behavior and giving and being holy and blessings of prosperity, knowing that none of these are addressing the growing void in your gut.  

Depending on your determination to push through this. or your tolerance of self abuse, whatever you like to call it; this "phase" could last weeks, months, or even years.  But when the end of your church-going era comes, you know that you know that you know.  You are DONE.

Ice Storm. Ha.

Journal Entry 1
Winter morning.


     Ah, my backyard.  The mundaneness and wildness dissatisfy me to no end, yet it draws me here quite consistently.
     Dreams of taming the wood-fenced sandpit spurn me to visions of a self-sustaining utopia, but lack of finances (and always a lack of time) force the changes to be minuscule and somewhat unnoticeable.

     I should be recovering from the mental onslaught that is college algebra, but God answered my desperate and fear-filled prayers with weather that, as usual, forces this southern state to shut down in anticipation of an icy armageddon.  The world wakes up with hopes of a thick blanket of crippling ice, but the reality is that we've received heavier frosts.
     The determining factor in whether I drive anywhere or not is if my dogs slip as they rush out the back door to relieve bladders.  This morning was no different than the last.  Maybe they could smell the chill as I opened the door for them; maybe the arctic air that rushed in at their feet was enough to tame the call of nature -to remind them that despite their four legs, despite their animal instincts, the blankets and pillows on the couches would be much warmer.
     They are spoiled, and therefore, not rushed, so no one slips.
     Even now, all I can see is eyeballs emerging from the corners; buried in piles of plush blankets, fluffed on newly mangled pillows; my companions, my babies wait for me.

     The weather has afforded me a few extra hours to catch up on some reading for tomorrow, but the window beckons.
     My fear with returning to school was losing my mornings, the time where my brain flows in its most creative mode.  Mornings remind me of the beauty of life, the perseverance of life, regardless of our best efforts to control every moment of it.  Mornings are my worship, and sometimes that worship responds.
     As the mornings slip away, so too, the words that flow from grey matter to hands, hands to pen, pen to paper.
     If it is necessary that I travel during this creative time, I am naked if I leave my house without any one of my trillion notebooks.  (Should I die tomorrow, I pray that my husband and closest friends could find all I've written, and miraculously publish it all, hopefully to the end of providing the Waldenesque life my husband so desires.)

     This particular morning, and the extra time it has awarded me, are giving way and releasing the looming clouds of frustration; offering as a peace-treaty with my inner battle, clarity for all I'm involved in.  Whispers of purpose, and all things tying together, no matter how brief, give me new excitement for the next few months of my life.  Sure, I'll be busy, and sure, I'm really going to have to prioritize what needs to be done.  Those thoughts, those things that are new to my schedule that have a tendency to overwhelm me, cannot find a stronghold in my thinking on a morning like today.
     There is a god in heaven, and he is merciful, if only for the reason that of all my reading assignments, and all my projects, and all the (forced) paper assignments to write, there is one class that requires a journal.  Be still my heart!  The creative juices will not be dammed up this semester!

     The damp, the cold, the slick outside can't crush my spirits this morning, as they are usually able to.  The lack of unobstructed sunlight outside doesn't matter today, for the morning shares revelation in brief moments, snapshots of purposes, and big picture understanding, which all make way for the light to emanate from me today; giving me the intestinal fortitude to press on and not give up.  I can't control the weather, but every once in a while, I can let the weather not control me.

     I should be reading about Hinduism right now.  As fascinating as it is, or some think it should be, nothing beats the call of the backyard.
      It has the familiarity of home.  Consistency.  Convenience partnered with purpose, so to be useful and enjoyed, all at the same time.
     But it always shows me something different.  Some days it shows me peace, other days it shows me possibility; in itself, and in the world around me.
     Darkness and light both speak to me in the backyard.
     The trees erupting from beyond the fence, although never losing leaves, serve as a surprising canvas that changes almost daily.  As much as I claim to hate the long-leaf pines of North Carolina, they continue to surprise me; gracing me with new perspectives, never in my face but always there; stoic in that no matter which birds land in their branches, which animals rub and destroy their lower barks, or which machines run into them by accident, they remain.  Quiet.  Strong.  Growing.  Such a combination that seems inevitable for the natural world, but so nearly impossible for humanity.
     If only I could be so quiet, that pride and arrogance would never plague me.  To be so strong that small things could rest on me, or big things run into me, and remain undamaged.  To be growing, patiently, rolling with what's thrown at me, strengthening my roots, forming my shape, but not determining my identity.
     The beauty of the trees is what I'd like to see in me.  It's easy to see it in them; they aren't corrupted by arrogance, polluted by free will...  But, in the hindsight perspective of the life I've lived, how much fun would life be without those things?

      My morning ponderings reveal greater truths, things my soul needs to be reminded of.  This new phase of my life, this midlife return to academia, is a means to an end, albeit an end I may not see clearly yet.
     The morning shows me what it is.  Enduring, persevering.  I can imagine myself there.  Morning reminds me of the experiences of my life that have made me enduring, experiences where necessity showed me that I too can persevere.
     The morning also shows me that she will always be the morning, no matter what we wake up to: snow, ice, rain, warm, cold, sweltering, wind, calm.  She is the morning.  The things that adorn her don't make her any different that what she is, she is morning.  
     I am reminded, thankfully, that I am who I am, too.  That no matter what I do in this life, it is merely a decoration; an adornment.  It doesn't change who I am at the core.

     Surrounded by youth, and those who share their wealth of knowledge with a corner of the world willing to pay for it, I am glad that this reminder of who I am came early in my academic journey.
     I am not plagued by a need to belong, so the usual calls of campus student life have no appeal to me.  Teacher's pet is no use to me either, for so much identity is lost in trying to be some one's favorite, not to mention exhausting.
     I am, however, a common ground person.  No matter the relationship, I try to find, and build on, common ground.  I have to remind myself that this isn't a "me-jump-into-your-world" exercise, because that only works when both parties in the relationship are willing to go all in into the life of the other.  There's an intimacy, a trust, and a deeper friendship; a brethren, kindred spirit kind of dynamic that I really don't think will surface in this place, with these people, in this period of my life.  Well, as far as I can tell; it is, after all, only the third day of classes.

     Do I approach my new assignment as a period of time where I glean everything I can, or do I embrace who I am in this; learning as I go, rolling with the punches, growing, staying humble, and keeping quiet...
   
     My answer is written in the morning.
          Be who you are.  That cannot, nor will it ever, change.
               But enjoy the adornments, for they will come and go.

     The sheet of ice melts, the water drips from the roof, and morning fades into afternoon.
   

Beginnings

Blanketed by darkness, the air is so frigid that it glistens; hanging on with all its might to maintain its icy grip with each passing minute.

But the sun rising is inevitable; revealing its power across the expanse with achingly slow patience.

As the light creeps through the sky, stretching from one horizon to the next, the first rays reach more than just the sky; thin and wispy ribbons of clouds are the first to give evidence to the new day.  Their contrast to the lightening sky are the first strokes of this day's brush; the calling card of the artist; singing of possibilities so endless, and all by design.

The darkened shadows of the newly exposed treetops are the next in line to stand out, giving more definition to an uneven horizon.

Sunrise casts a veil between the sky and the earth, woven in brilliant threads that disperse the light into millions of tiny flashes; each sparkling as if the air itself was made up of the dust of all the diamonds of the world.

The dust settles where the sunlight lands; from behind the veil the wind sways the new horizon.

The cold and the dark are helpless here; bound to lose, but hanging on to their last moments as if they could change the inevitable.

The sun peeking over the horizon releases the veil, and gently drops it to the ground in a silent billowy show; sure to be missed if not witnessed.

As the veil descends to earth, the full and direct rays of the sun hit the top edges of the shadowed horizon, giving clear identification to all that marks the landscape.  The needles of the pines brush up against the sky on the whim of the winds, the light revealing the glory of the colors and complexities of creation.

The darkness loses its grip.  The light, as it shines brighter and higher in the sky, only shows its strength in its brilliant difference from the dark.  The shadows only grow deeper and darker in their retreat, preventing any revelation of what it hides.

As the light hits the trees, with no veil to protect its fullness, creation becomes the veil.
     Glory revealed... through colors... light and shadows... wind... shapes... sounds... movement... reflection.... purpose.

With everything now visible as a reflection of the expression of light, the darkness has no escape.  The risen sun begins to illuminate formerly hidden places; revealing what's there, but without the distortion, without the cover, and without the deception that darkness can bring.

The winds, unseen, serve in their dual purposes of whisking away the vestiges of the shriveling dark, making room for and ushering in the light; light that filters through creation, and slips in where it will... bringing heat... bringing life.

New

Oh, how positively cliche of me to write a blog on the first day of the new year.  But I have to capture some stuff floating and bouncing around in my grey matter, and you, dear reader, are the second benefactor of my brain barfings.  (The first benefactor being myself, of course; writing is how I snapshot and process what's going on in my head.  If you know me well, you know this already. If you don't know me well, then, welcome to my dementia.)

I don't get all sentimental at typical celebrations, or on particular dates.  Holidays (& holy days) are very atypical for me; our tradition in our house is to not have traditions.  Or something like that.

New years is no different.  After many years of drunken debauchery, in a rare glimpse of sober clarity, I realized that I felt no different on new years day than I did on new years eve, or the 364 days prior to that, other than the hangover that took me longer to recover from year after year.

Maybe I drank into the new year to numb the impending personal let down; knowing deep down that I'd yet to stick with any new years resolution.  Ever.  Who knows.  Nor do I care; at this point in my life, if I was to go on a new years bender even remotely resembling new years benders of the past, it would take me all of January to recover.  And frankly, I don't have time for that.

What I can say, clear-minded, is that just like everything else I've tried to shrug off in the past year, something's different now.  Maybe because I'm in a constant state of learning; of history, of tradition, and the meanings and context behind things.  This has been the case for my holidays and most of my experiences this past year.  As I've learned to meanings of and histories behind specific days, whether seasons or holidays, celebrations or rituals, I've tried to pay them no mind, not let them sink their hooks into this girl.

Alas, despite my best efforts... well, not really.  I should say, despite my best efforts at just getting out of God's way, all of these special days on the calendar have been affecting me, but not in the expected ways.

Normal church holidays, for example.

Easter has gone from a once-a-year holiday to a daily celebration; one that has deeply and most profoundly affected my life.  Rather than be a day of remembrance, it has become a new way to live.  This itself has probably been the biggest life altering mindset change in my life.

The days of Christmas being a consumerist's dream are gone.  We only have my stepson on Christmas every other year, and it's been that way for the last ten years.  So Christmas has always been a creative holiday, in that we've had to come up with new fitting ways to celebrate.  Only a few of those years were "Santa" years.  Believe it or not, we've had the most fun in the "not Santa" years.  But nothing has ever been consistent in our last ten Christmases together; whether it was the different days we opened gifts, or the different income levels which drastically dictated the thought put into each gift, or even the locations of where we'd open gifts.  Even the anticipation for Christmas morning, no matter what day we celebrated it on, has changed.  It went from the typical "can't wait for the boy to open his presents"; to the less than spectacular "let's just do this because it's expected" as we each learned about the history of Christmas, the roots of the celebrations, the religious ties, and the cultural contexts; then back to the "can't wait to open presents", as we found ourselves comfortable in the midst of the cultural celebration that Christmas has become in this country.
You won't find anyone in our household jumping on the 'Jesus is the reason for the season' bandwagon.  But you will notice two distinct levels of the celebration; one played out to the mimic the American Christmas, and then the deeper, and immense event that stirs the marrow-deep gratitude that can only be manifested in our daily lives in a way that makes our cultural Christmas look like a gross mockery.

Holidays had to be undone, made unholy to me for the obvious reasons.  Then God had to re-make them holy in my life.

Sooo....

I went to bed before midnight last night, knowing that when I woke up, it would still be 2015, whether I watched the transition from one calendar to the next or not.

I woke this morning with new ideas.  New inspirations, new motivations.

It's one thing to declare what I want to do in the coming year, or what changes I want to make.  When I'm the one driving the best of my own intentions, I'm sure to let myself down.  But when I give up the reigns, and quit trying so damn hard to do or be something I'm not supposed to be, even if it's just "yet", then I remain surprised at the way life happens.

I thought  that I had one big thing coming up in 2015, and that was to return to college as a full time student.  That's what I fell asleep to last year.  I woke this year with a new anticipation.  (I love playing with words, as if last year and this year were separated by anything more than a mere second in the midst of the eight hours I slept.)

The new year I awoke to promises more than I expected.  They usually do.  In fact, they always do.

I see new projects.  Why I'd wake up with a project in mind (that my right mind says will probably be way too much for me) is beyond me.  Even if it's for no other reason than to envision the project and immediately ask God how the holy hell I'm going to find time to do this; then realize it's gonna be Him anyways, so why worry.

I had no 'great expectations' of, or for, the new year, other than what I'd already planned.  (This year being no different than the last few years, I made no resolutions.  I didn't want to set myself up for disappointment by resolving to be or do anything better, or more, or less.)
I'm excited about school, but school itself isn't the passion I'm chasing.  But one of these projects keeps my passions moving forward; not out of necessity, but out of desire.  Not the end goal, but part of the process.
I knew I'd be getting more deeply involved in community, but awoke this morning with different and new ideas to engage community.  My passion for the vision of what community looks like in our setting was stoked overnight by a holy wind, flames building and spreading.  Again, not the end goal, but more pieces in the process.

The last few years has been a process of deconstructing what I think of everything, letting go of expectations in order to even be open to learning and extracting what I need.  The most interesting thing about it all has been as I've let go of my limited expectations, God's still meeting me where I don't expect Him to, and He's shown up in almost everything I've dismissed.  Nothing looks the same anymore.

What a difference a day makes!

Alone

The dream slips a knife in; the pain so real her eyelids slam open wide.
Her heart races as she recalls what she just saw.



Excitement and joy mixed together into childlike giddiness, at her inclusion in the planning and execution of their plans.  After what seems like years of waiting, she's thrilled to be able to participate in the activities of her people.  Finally feeling like she's equipped to do so, assuming that these are the things that guarantee her acceptance into this group of people she trusts.

Little snippets flash that don't make any sense, but she pays them no mind.

They arrive together, the thunder of their horses filling the air, breaking the predawn silence. She barely notices that half the group peels away, going somewhere else that she can't see.  Around a bend, through the trees; she doesn't know.  She dismisses it as she follows the ones she's always associated with the most.

Parked, dismounted and now seated at the picnic table, the smaller group squares off at the table.
One hums with gaining intensity, one speaks with authority she'd never noticed before; not recognizing their tune or words.  And one looks at her, as if waiting to speak to her.  Her eyes have no time to look elsewhere before he slides across the worn smooth bench, leaning in to her in feigned intimacy, and whispers tenderly that she's not supposed to be there; a bullet from a silenced gun.

The shock of the betrayal knocks her into immediate action.  She jumps back, nearly losing her balance while scrambling to gather her belongings in her retreat.
The rush of blood to her head intensifies the sounds entering her ears.  She can hear them behind her, continuing as if now they can do what they came to do.

Her attention drawn away from the pain of the expulsion, now focused on her exodus.  Trying to take everything in, she doesn't know where to go.  She doesn't know where the rest of the group disappeared to, and rather than risk further embarrassment looking for them, she stoically gets on her ride, and drives away, trying not to notice the lack of response to her exit.



Laying in the dark, replaying the dream to the cadence of the beating pain in her chest, she ponders the solitude, in scenes just like the dream, played out over and over and over in her life.
She accepts, through tears, the Alone.


The tip of the knife came in the form of the one she's closest to, life to life, soul to soul.  The tip of the knife was just a poke, the initial offense, slight pressure that breaks the surface, yet altering the surface forever.
The blade behind the point, however, slicing cleanly through flesh; made up of those she thought knew her, those she thought wanted her with them; opening the wound larger, pushing the pain in deeper.
But the blade, with its sharp point and double edged blade, is held together and driven by the molded and formed traditions of the lifestyles and cultures of her people; all people.
Just like church.

The unnoticed snippets and snapshots from the dream foretell how she wasn't really included from the beginning.  A mistaken addition to a private email; the women peeling away from the men.  It makes sense now.
It doesn't make any sense.

The acid of her tears forces her eyes shut as she retreats into the cave of her bed linens.

Burning

Endings and beginnings;
     hearing and not hearing;
          recognizing and wallowing.
Doubting.  Questioning.  Not knowing for sure, yet hoping; but not our own hope.

Peace reigns despite the unrest; flooding from all sides to counter the unknown.

Sparks ignite in unexpected places.
Do not fear the fire; it burns, yet brings no lasting pain.

Inescapable evolutions;
     ripping, tearing, breaking out;
          severing the facade from its root bound victim.
Exposing pain, exposing the raw, exposing the need for healing.
Exposing the entirety of self to the impending inferno.
Exposing the cleft that cannot heal unless grafted through flames.

Overcome.  Overwhelmed.  Undone.
Unaffected by what's outside the surrounding firestorm, flames dance around;  yet unconsuming.

The blisters erupt as the fire passes over.
In the midst of the unending, the unseeing; underneath the effects of the assault on the flesh, new life is shaping.
New life forms in its protective immersion, growing and waiting for the veil to lift.

One by one, the marks burn open, revealing the new creation...

Smoldering.
Shining.
Whole.

Over Yonder

(Chantal's portion of the sermon:)

Today marks the first Sunday of the Advent season.

For me, Advent's a little weird.
The church celebrates the first coming of Christ, which will culminate in a few weeks as Christmas.
But the spirit of Advent is two-sided, though.  Along with the celebration of the first coming, the season of Advent brings along hope; hope for the second coming, which the church waits for with bated breath.
Celebration and hope.

To me, Advent is no different than the mentality of the church during the rest of the year.

This is the mentality we read our scriptures with, and the mentality with which we live our lives.

We take these historic events, Christmas (the birth/first coming of Christ), and Easter (the resurrection of Christ), as celebrations of remembrance.  We live our lives between celebrations; happy that we celebrate, thankful for the reason to celebrate, and hopeful for the next.

We live in between the first and second coming of Christ, and so we live in between celebrations.

What are we doing in the meantime, in between these celebrations?

Now, just so you know a little bit about me and my perspective, I don't see things the way most people do; I don't buy into the status quo.
That's why this whole "churchianity" thing has never made any sense to me.

I don't understand how gathering together in our elevated little groups; where we leave the thinking to one person; where when we do think, we think of ourselves as better than everyone else; where we worship a god who looks and sounds and acts profoundly like us; where we only associate with other "Christians" and secretly judge everyone who's not...

I've never understood how any of those things prove that we're the salt and light we're supposed to be, how any of those things bring any semblance of hope to people who have none, how any of those things point to a god that's bigger than us, and how the "hope" that we supposedly live in is restricted to our next celebration of remembrance.

And we wonder why people outside the church... stay...outside the church.
They don't get the "celebration", and they don't see the point of the "hope", because we're not showing them.

All that being said, I want to point out some things in today's Advent scripture, to possibly open your eyes to what we're supposed to be doing between our "celebrations".

Mark 13: 28-37

"Learn this parable from the fig tree.  After its branches become tender and it sprouts new leaves, you know that summer is near.  In the same way, when you see these things happening, you know that he's near, at the door.

I assure you this generation won't pass away until these things happen.  Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will certainly not pass away.

But nobody knows when that day or hour will come, not the angels in heaven and not the Son.  Only the Father knows.  Watch out!  Stay alert!  You don't know when the time is coming.  It is as if someone took a trip, left the household behind, and put the servants in charge, giving each one a job to do, and told the doorkeeper to stay alert.  Therefore, stay alert!  You don't know when the head of household will come, whether in the evening or at midnight, or when the rooster crows in the early morning, or at daybreak.  Don't let him show up when you weren't expecting and find you sleeping.  What I say to you, I say to all: Stay alert!"


First off, the fig tree.

We know what a fig tree is, right?  We know what the fruit of a fig tree tastes like; we know what the odd shaped leaves look like; we know the shape of the fig tree; we know what the new growth on a fig tree looks like - all segmented and square-ish, with a distinguishable difference between old and new growth.

A fig tree is something we're familiar with, because we've seen them.  They're right here, in our time, right now.

When Jesus talks about the fig tree, "After its branches become tender and it sprouts new leaves, you know that summer is near..."; we know that this isn't something profound, this is something we can imagine, because we've seen it.  We've experienced it.
We recognize it as one of the signs of the changing seasons.  We know that summer is close when we see the fig tree doing this, as well as other plants, too.  These are things we've seen and learned as we live our lives.

We try to make it profound, because it's something that Jesus said to his disciples; Jewish men who weren't super educated, or even educated at all.  We try to make the season of summer into some metaphor of perfection, or heaven, or whatever.

We try to make it something profound, but Jesus is really just telling his disciples to change the way they think!

The Jewish thought of that time, for the religious leaders and for the common folk, was that the Messiah hadn't come yet, and when he did, they expected him to be a warrior king who would rescue Israel from the Roman occupation they were in the middle of.

This hope for the Messiah was strictly limited to their past and current situation, how horribly messed up the world around them was, having been through numerous exiles in the past, and the current occupation by Rome.

Old Testament Jewish thinking was based on, and limited to, their understanding of the Law given by Moses.  Deuteronomy 28 basically told the Israelites that if they did good, good things would happen to them, and if they did bad, bad things would happen to them.  They had no theology beyond that; no thought process beyond the here and now.

As time progressed through Israel's history, bad things were happening, and they couldn't understand why.  (Never mind the centuries of Israel not doing what God wanted.)  As they recalled their history, and the varying groups of people they'd lived among throughout the duration of different exiles, they began to develop and incorporate a thought process of the afterlife, where everything would be perfect, "over yonder".

This "over yonder" mentality gave the Jewish people hope; something to look forward to, after a life of suffering on Earth.

We do the same thing, don't we?
We wait for Jesus to come back, to relieve us from the horror that's happening in the world.
Where evil cannot stand anymore.
Where we wait, doing nothing.

This is the mentality that the disciples have; this is the mentality that Jesus is trying to change.
He's trying to get them to change their thinking from "over yonder" to "now".
He's trying to get them to see that the hope they longed for, that the truth they longed for, that the justice they longed for, that the Messiah they longed for, was sitting right in front of them!

He was there, now.
Just as He is here, right now.

The disciples knew exactly what a fig tree was.  They had seen them before; they had eaten the fruit; they had experienced a fig tree.
Jesus was telling them that the "over yonder" they hoped for is just as real as the fig tree.  They were experiencing the hope and the truth and the justice of "over yonder", and couldn't recognize it.

If we look at the parable of the fig tree as a parable for "over yonder", then it doesn't quite make sense.  What does the fig tree represent?  What does 'summer' represent?  What does 'tender', or what does 'new leaves', or what does 'sprout' mean?
In our attempt to make it something profound, we complicate it immensely.

Jesus used the fig tree to tell the disciples that the hope they longed for "over yonder" was something tangible, something real, like a fig tree.
The substance of our hope.  The fig tree has substance.  Our hope... has substance.

If we don't realize and embrace this, we will continue to jump from celebration of remembrance to celebration of remembrance; powerless; ignorant to the fact that for centuries, we've been worshiping the symbol, the celebration, instead of the real and tangible thing:  Christ.

In the passing of the time from the early church to now, we've lost the awareness that Jesus, and His Kingdom, is here now.  The hope that we long for is not "over yonder", it is just as real as the fig tree!

This also changes our understanding of "this generation won't pass away until these things happen", doesn't it...
Jesus is real, right here, right now.  This would make it apply to every generation; from the generation of the disciples, all the way to this generation, right now.

Now hold that thought.

The next thought Jesus introduces tells the disciples to stay alert.
"It is as if someone took a trip, left the household behind, and put the servants in charge, giving each one a job to do, and told the doorkeeper to stay alert.  Therefore, stay alert!  You don't know when the head of household will come, whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows in the early morning, or at daybreak.  Don't let him show up when you weren't expecting and find you sleeping."

The church sometimes see this as a description and a warning of when Christ returns; the event that ushers in our "over yonder" thinking.  This line of thinking, this mentality, also effectually removes the responsibility we have in the Body of Christ.  (Herein lies my problem with Advent.)

But look:  "...put the servants in change, giving each one a job to do..."

Now, I'm somewhat of a word-nerd, but I notice subtleties in our language.  I see where "servants" is plural, but "doorkeeper" is singular.  An there's something else, too.

Aren't we all servants??

Haven't we done exactly what Jesus told the disciples not to do?   We fell asleep!

The Scripture doesn't say that the doorkeeper has to do everyone's job, it says each of the servants has a job to do!  Every single one!

We have bought into the Jewish mentality that our pastors and our church leadership have to do all the work, while we sit here and celebrate Christ's birth, and wait for the end of the world; completely disregarding the fullness of WHY Christ came in the first place.

That being said, we can pretty much agree that God's up to something.  There has been quite a few changes lately.  We see it here.  But it's not just happening here, it's happening everywhere.
And in case you're not paying attention, what God is up to now has more to do with the other six days a week than what we do on Sunday morning.

The days of coming to church to be "fed", the days where we rely on our pastors to give us a "good word" from God are all coming to an end.

God is teaching us and speaking to us through our interactions with one another.
He's speaking to us through our meals together.
He's speaking to us through our conversations with one another.
He's teaching us how to be the Body of Christ we're meant to be, by actually being the Body of Christ.
He's speaking to us and showing us His worldview by giving us opportunities to see one another as He sees us, to love one another as He loves us.
He's drawing us all closer to each other, and closer to Him.

It's called community.
As His servants in this community, we've been given a job to do.  Are we doing it?  Or are we asleep, leaving our responsibilities to someone else?

If you've fallen asleep; if you think you can't experience God in our midst until we're "over yonder", then you'll miss Him now.

Jesus is right here, right now.  Just like the fig tree.

Change your thinking from "over yonder" to "right now".

He's right here, right now...  Believe it!

If you're asleep, you'll miss Him.

If you think that you have nothing to do except wait for Jesus to return, you'll miss Him... now and then.

If you're not involved in the lives of other people, then you'll miss how God is speaking to them in their situations; you'll miss how God is speaking to you as you partner with other people, to share in this crazy thing called life.

We aren't meant to live a dual life, where God is in a little box that we only pull off the shelf on Sunday mornings.
We're not meant to live ONLY on celebration days.

Stay alert!  God's about to destroy the box you (try to) keep Him in.  What makes us think we can contain Him?  He's God!

Just as we claim that the Holy Spirit is everywhere, start living like you believe it.

Stay alert!  So you see Him; in the everyday, in our celebrations, in our interactions, in the mundane, in the pain, in the joys, in the struggles and the victories, in the tears and in the laughter, in those wispy moments of understanding and grace.

Take responsibility for the job He's given you, the time we've been placed in, our here and now, between His first coming and His second coming.

Whatever your job is that you've been given, it will demand that you start thinking outside the box of these four walls.


(Geoff's portion of the Sermon:)

So what do we do with this?
How do we change our way of thinking?
And how do we figure out what we are supposed to do within the community, or what "Body part" we are within the Body of Christ?

Over the last few years I have been around a bunch of people.  I hear different people and different church groups talking around the Cruciform, and I hear some things like, "my cross", or "pick up your cross and follow me"; a big joke between some of us is, "I lost my cross".

Let me tell you, WE don't have a cross.  There is only one cross, the Cross of Christ.  We don't have a cross that is ours, that we can carry around with us, or one that can be lost.  The Cross of Christ is firmly planted in place.  It has already been carried up the hill, and on that cross everything has been paid in full.

So we have to make a few choices.  We have to choose to GO to the Cross.  We have to choose to climb our sorry butts on it, knowing full well the pain and suffering that took place on it, and when we fall off, we have to choose to do it again and again, every day.

This looks different for everyone and to everyone.

Within our community here, we use phrases like "die daily" and the Cruciform.  I never really realized how common they actually are.

I was sitting in a little truck stop somewhere in Indiana, turned on my TV and did a channel search while I was getting my dinner ready.  I was looking forward to a TV show or something give some background noise while I was eating.  The channel search finished and left me with only two channels, both Christian channels, and both had pastors sitting in chairs talking.
I wanted to turn the TV off, but not wanting to sit in the quiet, I left it on the first channel and turned the volume down a bit.  So as I sat there not really listening, I heard a very familiar phrase, "die daily", so I turned up the volume so I could hear.
It was a younger guy that was the guest speaker, and he told a story about dying daily.

There was a man and his child, the man was trying to teach his child about Christ, and his phrase "die daily".  They went to a cemetery, and the father looked down at his child as they stood next to a grave.  The conversation went something like this:

Father:  I want you to kick this gravestone.
Child:  Oh no!  I couldn't!
Father:  Why not?
Child:  That would be disrespectful!
Father:  Okay, then stand back and yell at this person lying here, and tell them they are stupid.
Child:  (running and hugging their father's leg) Oh no, please!  That would be so mean!  I couldn't!

The father bends down and says to the child; "This person laying here, their body is dead.  Their body does not understand meanness, disrespect, anger, revenge, regret, hurt feelings; those feelings are only alive in the flesh, and this person's flesh has died.

Emotions drive us in a direction that we want to go.

You ask, what is your part in the community?
Well, how many times do you feel like you are being pushed into a certain direction by God, and you fight it?  You end up finding your own direction based on your own emotions, whether they're emotions based on fear, or disbelief, or worry about was is or isn't going against the norm, or thoughts of "this can't be God, so... I'll just go play in the sand over here, because this doesn't make any sense to me."

Galatians 2:20 tells us that it is no longer me that lives, but Christ lives in me.
When that starts to happen, when Jesus starts doing something we're not used to, what do we do?
Does our flesh, our emotions, not want to go, so we kick Him out real quick, sweeping up behind Him saying, "wow, that was close"?
Or do we drag our sorry butts back up the hill and climb on that beat up cross, hang there, saying "Yes sir"?

Once we get on that Cross, that's when you'll find out what it is that's your place in the community, what part of the Body you are.
And it's probably not going to be what we want, or what we think it will be.

Chantal read in Mark about how we're supposed to do our job, but unfortunately, we act like teenagers when their parents go out of town.
You know what I'm talking about, the parents go out for the night, so the kids throw a party.  The parents come home, kids get busted.
So the next time the parents go out, the kids think they're smart, and put someone at the window to give a heads up when the parents are home.  Parents get home, kids get busted again.
Parents leave again, the kids think they're going to one-up the parents.  They set a watchman at the end of the street, to warn when the parents are on their way home.
The kids always get caught!  They just keep sending the watchman out, because they're not doing what they should be doing.

We throw down Monday through Saturday, and get the house all cleaned up for Sunday, so it looks like things are cool.  But after a year of Sundays, the amount of work to do is so great that we either blame someone else for the condition we created by not doing our job, or we try to hire someone to do the job for us, or we just change the chore list to what we think it should be.

This is the human condition, and the reason why we need to get on the Cross!