Vocation

I have a much longer (and more personal) post brewing on the topic of vocation and its sacredness; however, tonight, I am sharing excerpts from the genesis of such thoughts, Chapter 8 of Exiles: Living Missionally in a Post-Christian Culture, (by Michael Frost) to wet your appetite and possibly spark some introductory conversation. Over the past month, Chapters 5 (another brewing post) and 8 of this book have aided in sparking critical growth for me as a church planter.
"[Followers of Jesus] will be devoted to their work, knowing that they can be called by God to work in a factory or a law firm or a school or the home every bit as much as someone can be called by God to minister as a priest or pastor. Like Daniel and Joseph, exiles will work hard for the host empire, and while doing so, they will be promising, 'We will work righteously.'" (p. 177)
"For too long the church has fallen into the dualistic pattern of seeing someone's job as a secular endeavor while valuing his or her role within the church as holy or righteous." (p. 180)
"Many churchgoing people get the impression that what they spend the bulk of their time doing every week is unimportant to God in comparison to what they do for a few hours each week in the church." (p. 181)
"God is present and interested in our work life as in any area of our lives. [Followers of Jesus] need to wriggle free from a church that devalues the righteousness of their everyday work lives as well as from a world that sees work simply as the means to make money." (p. 181)
"One of the simplest ways of [working responsibly and not contributing to the suffering of others] is to see that our personal sense of mission involves what we do for a living just as much as what we do for our church activities." (p. 181)
"We earn money at our jobs, of course, but our primary motivation as exiles is to do our work as an expression of our relationship with God." (p. 181)
"We routinely talk about the 'world out there.' What else can that mean other than that we, the church people, are 'in here?' This dualism has, over 1,700 years, created Christians who cannot relate their interior faith to their exterior practice, and this affects their ethics, lifestyles, and capacity to share their faith meaningfully with others." (p. 185)

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Disconnected Electronic Rumination

I'm well behind the curve in respect to this concept of liminality, but I can definitely see how it works and its lasting effects. Chapter 5 of this breaks it down wonderfully. It's kinda like I knew it was there but didn't have the language or perspective to provide solid descriptors and analysis. From Wikipedia (so it must be true...lol), "Liminality is a period of transition where normal limits to thought, self-understanding, and behavior are relaxed - a situation which can lead to new perspectives." That pretty much describes it..."new perspectives" (or not so new).

Even though that definition is quite incomplete (because it's part of a much larger paragraph), there are important reasons why "normal limits to thought, self-understanding, and behavior are relaxed." Most notably, the person or people group finds itself in the midst of struggle. It's like a journey from adolescence to adult...resident to full practitioner, student to teacher. Such transitions require (sometimes) extreme experiences of struggle, despair, heartache, doubt, strife, hopelessness, ineptitude, and so on. It is during these experiences that we depend upon, rely, lean on, come near, lift up, grow together, sacrifice, embrace, and carry with each other for each other. Such experiences develop bonds that are not easily broken.

As odd (and countercultural) as it may sound, we are thankful for liminality and must be a people running into the liminal. As God continues to bring order from chaos, we too as his agents, discard the shackles of safety, security, and predictability to run wild, free, and difficult with our Lord and each other. Like a firefighter running into a burning building, we must go.

Hunt

"Here's the story I'll tell my friends when they come to worship, and punctuate it with Hallelujahs: Shout Hallelujah, you God-worshipers; give glory, you sons of Jacob; adore him, you daughters of Israel. He has never let you down, never looked the other way when you were being kicked around. He has never wandered off to do his own thing; he has been right there, listening.
Here in this great gathering for worship I have discovered this praise-life. And I'll do what I promised right here in front of the God-worshipers. Down-and-outers sit at God's table and eat their fill. Everyone on the hunt for God is here, praising him. "Live it up, from head to toe. Don't ever quit!"

From the four corners of the earth people are coming to their senses, are running back to God. Long-lost families are falling on their faces before him. God has taken charge; from now on he has the last word.

All the power-mongers are before him —worshiping! All the poor and powerless, too—worshiping! Along with those who never got it together—worshiping!

Our children and their children will get in on this As the word is passed along from parent to child. Babies not yet conceived will hear the good news—that God does what he says."

Sacred Snowballs, Carrots, and a Friend

If you forgot already, a couple of weeks ago, it snowed a little bit. I must admit: it was nice. Four-day weekends are always welcome especially when they occur within a month of Spring Break. It was a Thursday and I worked late, because I was banking on a bad weather day, so I went ahead and prepared for the next week. When my daughter and I turned on to our street, we saw several of our neighbors playing in our front yard. We quickly parked on the street, jumped out of the car, and proceeded to launch snowballs at everybody. Sometimes, even in Texas, playing in the snow can be quite sacred.

I was born in Iowa but moved to Texas just before beginning Kindergarten. As a result, I don’t remember much about snow storm protocol. In Texas, when snow (or ice) falls from the sky, the first step in any system of response is to attempt to build a snowman. The day after the Great Snowstorm of 2010, my kids and I drove around our neighborhood counting 109 snowmen in a 3 mile radius around our house. Therefore, like good little Texans, we all pitched in, rolled snow, stacked snow, packed snow, and even found a couple carrots. The Snow Chef was our prize creation. (We got a little out of control on his head, and someone said it looked like he was wearing a chef’s hat.)

The next day, after a fresh night of snow, we were at it again: rolling in the snow, throwing snowballs at each other, and building stuff. I wanted to build a snowman that was taller than me, so I began working on said project on my neighbor’s front porch. (I was hoping it would inhibit their ability to enter and exit their house. That’s right, I’m the “ugly neighbor.”) After I got started, my own kids and a couple other kids in the neighborhood joined in. We pulled snow off of cars, out of the yard, and anywhere else we could find it to build this snow monster. Eventually, the top was wider and heavier than the bottom and it collapsed: poor design and management on behalf of the foreman. However, unbeknownst to me when the project began, crafting the snow monster led to an experience I never expected.

Matthew 10 (out of The Message) has really messed me (and Heidi) up lately. We initially read it in January during our first 40 days of Scripture reading and prayer; and now, after the first 7 of a new 40 days (Lent culminating in Easter), we’ve read it again. In short, Jesus sends his “harvest hands” out with quite a charge:

***”Don’t begin by traveling to some far-off place to convert unbelievers. And don’t try to be dramatic by tackling some public enemy. Go to the lost, confused people right here in the neighborhood. Tell them that the kingdom is here.”***

For me (and Heidi), it’s one of those sections of Scripture that causes the Bible to slip from my hands cascading to the floor as my head and hands leap toward the sky in repentance. I must continually ask myself: “How can I proclaim allegiance to the Liberating King and not know, spend time with, or tell my neighbors (with words and life) that the kingdom is here?”

So here I am attempting to construct a 75-inch tall snow monster...completely focused on packing snow into a wobbly foundation...and calling out to the kids to bring me more snow, when one of the kids in my neighborhood stops and looks up at me. With my eyes still on the emerging snow creation but the kids’ eyes dead-set on me, I hear, “Chris, you’re my best friend.” Cold, frustrated, tired, dumbfounded, and amazed, I responded, “Thanks.” The hour I had spent with this kid (and other kids from the neighborhood who were helping me) over the previous two days was the only time I had spent with the kids in my neighborhood so far in 2010.

***”Bring health to the sick. Raise the dead. Touch the untouchables. Kick out the demons. You have been treated generously, so live generously.”***

Sometimes, we don’t have to be sent to the other side of the globe. Sometimes, we only have to be home long enough to be sent across the street. Sometimes, we don’t have to be prepared to throw Bible verses. Sometimes, we only have to be prepared to throw snow balls. Indeed, we have been treated so generously. We have so much to live (and give).

Remix

I wrote this in late 2006, and this weekend, Heidi and I had an experience that reminded me of it, so I thought I would share. We continue to pray and look for Spirit-initiated opportunities such as these.
---------------
"This is really an understatement, but tonight was a wild night. I have mentioned a little about my two wonderful children, and tonight, one of them was in full force. Newsflash: MY SON DOES NOT LIKE HIS CAR SEAT!
There just isn’t a lot of room when the family piles into the 2003 Nissan Xterra. Mom, Sister, and Brother all sit in the back, and lonely ‘ole dad assumes the ship’s controls. At least I get to control the stereo. Because of the scarcity of room in the Xterra, Mom and Dad thought it wise to begin a search for a potential new vehicle. This is an ‘on again, off again’ search that began 6 weeks ago. Tonight, the search took us 25 miles southwest of home.

Did I mention that my son does not like his car seat? I didn’t want to include too many paragraphs before telling you that again. What does this mean? Usually, it means that he screams from the moment he is placed inside his car seat to the moment he is removed from its blood-thirsty clutches. I am pretty sure the phrase ‘AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!’ would describe it best. I can’t fault the guy though. If you placed me in this box, pinned me down, and strapped me in using this uncomfortable and intimidating buckle that ran between my legs, I’d be a little wigged out, too. Also, what can I say? At least the boy has a good, healthy set of lungs. As we were driving around trying to look at a few vehicles, tensions were running high and patience was running low as Mom, Dad, and Sister took turns attempting to soothe our beautiful baby; however, each of us ended up staring into the face of a wild-eyed, red-faced mini me wondering when the next chance to get out and walk around would present itself.

I’m not sure if it was the screaming, the cold weather, or the fact that we were on a semi-tight schedule, but it seemed that every stop light we approached saw us coming and upon making eye contact with us quickly and without hesitancy proceeded to red. I’m surprised I remember one specific red light in the sea of never ending stops that we made; however, one does stand out. We stopped at this red light where on the right was a bank and on the left was the marquee of a local church. This marquee was extra nice, because not only did it have the standard manual lettering, but it also had the scrolling digital type. Fancy. The standard manual letters read something about a ‘casual dress’ worship service, and the ‘regular’ worship service, but the red digital letters caught my eye. The lettering scrolled across the sign displaying, “Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands.” At this moment, my son was doing his best to match the sound of an airplane taking off with his screams, and I couldn’t help but muster a smirk. The King James was a nice touch, too.

Here’s a shocker. The other day I was running late. It was a Wednesday morning, because I volunteer for a few hours at Harvest House, a fantastic, local emergency benevolence agency, every Wednesday, and as usually, I was behind. My daughter was already in school, and my wife takes our son with her to work, and they were already gone. After a quick shower, I had run into the bedroom to get dressed. I was returning to the bathroom to squirt two quick shots of cologne on my neck when the home phone rang, and I make sure to inform you that it was the home phone for a specific reason.

On a very rare occasion, you will find me answering the home phone, and I want to make sure to emphasize the word ‘rare’ in this sentence. I just don’t do it. To be honest, I’m really not sure why, but don’t get me wrong. I do realize that it’s pretty quirky. Part of it is probably because I don’t really want to have a home phone. My cell phone has unlimited minutes for making and receiving calls, and my wife doesn’t use her cell phone all that much, so couldn’t we get by without a home phone? Also, our city has just installed a city-wide wireless network, so I know I don’t need a home phone for Internet service anymore. Another reason I don’t answer it is probably because we don’t have caller ID on our home phone. At least with my cell phone, I’m not surprised by the voice I hear on the other line. Finally, those who know me and want to get a hold of me know to call my cell phone, so if the home phone is ringing, it is probably not for me anyway.

So, I’m a few steps away from the bathroom door and the home phone rings. Actually, I thought about answering it, but I quickly smothered those thoughts remembering that I was already late, and did not want to waste one more minute especially if that meant talking on the home phone. Our answering machine picked up, and the caller began to speak. It was a lady that I had not heard from in a long time. Her name was Angela (no it wasn't but you get the idea), and her granddaughters were in my youth group years ago. She mentioned that she had met someone whom she wanted to refer to me and the new church I was a part of because this person lived near me. Okay, I made the mental note to call her back as soon as I had the opportunity which would probably be over lunch.

However, immediately after the home phone quit ringing, my cell phone began to ring. At this point, I’m starting to get a little flustered. I looked at my phone, and did not recognize the number, so I didn’t answer it either. I do that sometimes, too. I noticed that the caller left a voice message, but continued walking toward the door to my garage. As I opened the door, the home phone rang again! I rolled my eyes, hopped in the car, and violently sped off to Harvest House.

Ministry is amazing. God shows up in marvelous ways. Things happen that can not be explained. Encounters with people take place that leave you without words. The power of God is real, active, and transforming. He is constantly “calling us out of darkness into his wonderful light.” One of the greatest things about working in a new church plant that is focusing on people who do not go to church or haven’t in a good while is just that…the people. God is about his mission in the lives of people, and I’m thankful that he allows me to come along and participate with him. A lot of my time is spent sharing in dinners, phone conversations, and living room talks, and I love it.

However, this particular morning, I was in no mood for the power of God to work though me. Remember, I’m late! About an hour and a half into my day at Harvest House, my cell phone rang again. This time as I scanned the caller ID, I realized it was my wife and I promptly answered the phone. She began by asking me if I had talked to Angela, and I quickly recounted the phone circus I escaped from as I left the house that morning. Well, apparently Angela had called my wife, and stated her need to talk to me with great urgency. So, at the powerful beckoning of my wife, I reluctantly took a 10 minute break and called Angela.

After a couple of rings, Angela picked up on the other line. She thanked me for calling and began to tell me of a new friend she had just met. The last ten years of her friend’s life had been littered with tragedy. He had battled cancer, drug addiction, prison, and the death of his wife. He lived in our area, and Angela wanted me to meet him. So, she put him on the phone! Mike (ummm...not really) introduced himself to me, and we chatted for a few minutes. I told him a little bit about Christ Journey, and before I knew it, Angela was back on the line. She encouraged me to go by Mike’s house later in the week to meet him in person, and she said that the two of them would join our Sunday worship gathering the following weekend, and that was it.

Why does God put up with a person like me? He has shown me his incredible, indescribable, and untamable power time and time again, and I still, either in pride or doubt, do not live expectantly. Instead of getting out of the way and looking for God to show up, usually, he bursts on to the scene, and then says, “Everything is possible for him who believes.”

You see, when I hung up the phone, if I was truly honest with myself and with you, I placed the encounter into a neat and hidden corner of my brain. Okay, I tried to use flowery language to dress it up, but in reality, I forgot. I forgot about the phone call. I forgot about Mike. I forgot that I was supposed to go by his house later in the week. I forgot that Angela and Mike were coming on Sunday.

However, in the midst of my ineptitude, Sunday came, and so did Mike and Angela. Mike was extremely kind and open about his plight in life. He was exuberant about understanding the ways of God, and experiencing the power of community. I was blessed to share in worship, friendship, and conversation with him.

Sometimes in life, we need time to refocus. We need time to remember that life is not about us. It’s not about what we can do, or the talents we have been given. It’s about giving, blessing, sharing, and loving. As one mentor of mine has put it, “we are church for the sake of the world”, and Mike reminded me of that.

The next day, I received a phone call from Angela. Mike wanted to become a disciple of Jesus! Mike wanted to share in the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus through baptism! Amazing! One minute, we’re uncomfortably talking on the phone, and the next minute, we’re gathered around Mike in a backyard pool praising God for his love and work expressed in Mike.

You know, what I thought was an end was really a beginning. As Mike was ushered into the Kingdom of God, the Holy Spirit began opening doors within the cobwebbed halls of his family. Mike became God’s tour guide sharing with his family about His love, church, and Spirit. God calls and God sends, and Mike was sent into his very own household. As family members began to see hope and life in Mike, they began asking questions about this God. Before we knew it, a house church was launched in Mike’s home, and his mother, grandmother, sister, and others became participants in this emerging community of faith. About a month after the launching of the house church, Mike’s mom expressed her desire to become a follower of Jesus.

From a random phone call to a guy who was too busy to be bothered, God began redeeming an entire household. The people’s response to His redemption is still in process, and sometimes, the journey is tough; however, nothing can separate this family from God’s love as he continues to raise up servants and proclaimers within the household.

Instead of providing you with a report, we thought it more creative and impactful to share this story. As we look back upon 2006, there are many, many similar stories that reflect God’s provision, transformation, and mission in our midst. We are thankful for a God who is truly “with us”, and as we reflect upon his birth in a manger, we find virulent, unending hope. If the Savior of the world can be born in a barn, what can the spirit of God do within us?"

Frijoles Negros

Sometimes (like right now), I feel completely out of place. I know that’s kinda weird for a guy to admit. We're suppose to continually put off auras of carelessness and control...like nothing can ever touch us. It’s kind of a load, but we do it anyway. Most of the time, I wonder when we’ll get tired of being frauds.

When I was in middle and high school, my Dad fixed dinner most of the time. Looking back, I should have been much more helpful and grateful when it came to dinner time. The sides accompanying most of my Dad’s dishes were white rice and black beans (i.e. frijoles negros). For a while, it seemed that every time we sat down at the table, our plate included a modest tower of black beans. We ate and we ate and we ate. Black beans. Black beans. Black beans. Until one day, I just stopped. It’s not that I didn’t like them. It’s not that I embarked on a crusade against black beans. I had just had my fill.

It’s funny. I do the same thing in other aspects of life, namely music. From time to time, my wife (kindly) points out how I will listen to a certain album or song over and over and over again. “Not again,” she’ll (kindly) moan. “There you go! In a month, you’ll never want to listen to that CD again!” I try to defend myself by telling her how much I like the music or the vocals or a certain song, but it’s pretty pointless to plead my case because she’s right. Remember Jars of Clay? (Probably not) The Eleventh Hour? Furthermore From the Studio and Furthermore From the Stage? Great albums but I haven’t listened to any of them since 2004. I played them for 6 months and that was enough. In fact, I’m jammin’ to the first single off of Erykah Badu’s new album due out next month. I’ll probably be done with the song before the full album debuts.
Anyway, I had my fill of black beans, and to this day, I may have eaten a few...beans that is. I won’t even eat black-eyed peas with my wife’s family on New Year’s Day. That’s random (and maybe even a little sad).

Tonight, that’s how I feel about worship services. Don’t get me wrong. I have a strong desire to gather with others to worship, exalt, praise, magnify, and proclaim glory to the One, true and living God. However, I’m just not sure we do much of that in worship services anymore. Instead, we spell out the benefits associated with participating in worship services. As if by worshipping God with us, you are going to have an experience you’ll never forget because we’re going to meet the (spiritual) needs you have and be the church you’ve always wanted. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m sitting in a sanctuary or the flooring department of Home Depot.


Am I being too harsh? Maybe but I don’t think I buy it anymore, and believe me, there is much blame to heap on my shoulders here. For much of my ministry career, I have promulgated the very things I’m challenging. Throughout my years in full-time church work, I have spent countless hours making sure all of the worship service elements were just right, but now I’m wondering: Is that really what we have to invite people into? It seems like "Join us for worship this Sunday!" and "God answers knee-mail." are the only two choices for the church marquee. Is that really what following Jesus is about? If so, then why don’t we all go to Fellowship. At least they have smoke machines and a bookstore. Plus, if we all go, they’ll overtake Lakewood as the largest church in the US and that’ll be just plain cool.

I’m lost and probably on the verge of my 2nd “adult” faith crisis and I don’t even know if it’s a good thing. Did Jesus start a personal fulfillment club and forget to tell me? Is that what the Good News is really about?: “Sin, brokenness, and depression are all quite undesirable and inconvenient, so come and sit in our building for an hour a week and we’ll turn you into the person you’ve always wanted to become.”

I feel weird talking (or writing) this way, and I wonder what impact it will have on my kids. Do they really need a “youth room” with half a VW Bug and a sound system better than the one used by U2 when they played Cowboys Stadium last year to understand and embrace life with Christ?

We’re (myself included) obsessed with being the “best.” Come join our church, because we have the best _________. Fill in the blank with whatever you want. Worship band? Check. Preaching? Check. Sunday school classes? Check. Children’s programs? Check. Potluck lunches? Check. Long-term vision and growth strategies? Check. Maybe that’s fine, but most of what Jesus said about those who strive to finish first haunts me.

I guess I’m past the point of caring, which I’ll admit, is a pretty dangerous place to be, or maybe I care but about different things. I'm less concerned about “relevant worship” (whatever that means). I'm less concerned about things starting early, so I don’t miss Kickoff. I'm less concerned about the quality of the professionals. I'm less concerned about whether the lighting is provided by fluorescents or candles. I'm less concerned about whether coffee and donuts are provided, although that’s a nice touch. I don’t think I'm even concerned with whether people are able to “use their gifts.”

Are our hearts far from him? Are we striving for first or last place? Are we being poured out for others or filling our cups to over-flowing? Are we modeling for and inviting our kids into communal life or sending them away? Are we diving into the Word or looking for a lifeguard to jump in on behalf of us? Are we searching for opportunities to serve or squeezing every last drop out of opportunities to consume? These are the types of questions that are guiding my quests nowadays.

What good is it if we gain the whole world? What good is it if we have “inspiring worship services,” “solid biblical teaching,” and “casual dress?” What good is it if James Dobson himself teaches our child’s Sunday School class? What good is it if we're the perfect church that meets at just the right time with all the nice, smiling people and the most welcoming door greeters? “What kind of deal is it to get everything [we] want but lose [ourselves]?”

Like I wrote, earlier, sometimes, I feel out of place, because I don’t know many who are feeling this way. Which means, of course, that I could be wrong. Maybe I just have a sour attitude. Maybe I’m over-generalizing and needing to repent of judgment. I’m not speaking in code or hiding behind this blog to thrash around veiled personal put-downs. Instead, I’m seeking to critique and re-examine a system I have promoted. I have sacrificed sleep, time with my family, and opportunities to nurture relationships with people who don't know Jesus to go buy candles, rearrange chairs, and refine that sermon conclusion just one more time. I just want to ask (myself mostly): “Is this it?” Is this Christianity? Is this Good News?"

In November 2009, our family decided to host a neighborhood brunch on a Sunday morning. My daughter and I went door to door in our neighborhood inviting people to come to our home for brunch on the upcoming Sunday. As we knocked on a door 5 or 6 houses down from our house, a lady in her late 50s (that’s a guess...to my own discredit, I did not know her) came to the door with a harried countenance. We swiftly introduced ourselves, told her we lived down the street, and invited her to brunch at our house: “this Sunday, 10am.” Before we could finish talking, she tersely responded that she could not come because she would be “in church” at 10am. “Oh...okay,” I said with a sly smile, and she closed the door. What good is it?

Unintended

Once upon a time, I had a job. Even though I drove 90 miles roundtrip for this job, again, I was happy to have a job. I started slow functioning much like a glorified secretary at first. As Kester, my Austin buddy says, “You know that guy who can get things? Cigarettes, diapers, somebody killed? The guy you mean when you tell your friends ‘don’t worry, I know a guy.’” During this time, I was that guy. Okay, maybe I wasn’t that guy, but I could slip you a package of paper clips and a stack of file folders. Yeah, I got it like that.
It was more like “Can you go make copies? Can you take notes during this meeting? Can you keep track of things that need to be kept track of?” These are the types of requests I would take care of at first. I was learning the ropes...paying my dues as they say...whoever “they” are.

Anyway, after proving that I could use keyboard shortcuts and take decent notes, I began working on a computer software build project. For those who knew me as a wild-eyed, cart-wheelin’, spiked-hair, too-excited youth pastor, thinking of me dressed up in my exquisite business casual while shooting the breeze about .net, .asp, and naming conventions must’ve been hilarious. Of course, once the hilarity wore off, it was probably equally depressing. I’ll admit. It was pretty weird. One minute I’m booking a junior high excursion at Main Event, and the next, I’m booking a flight to another city to coordinate and provide site support for an email migration project.

Anyway, I’m a part of this computer software system build team working my growing, sedentary butt off, when one day I realized, “You know, I’m the only one in this department who can do what I do.” It wasn’t a haughty realization, but a practical one. At the time, no one else knew how to do my job.

I’m tired tonight and listening to a great presentation originally given at ACU Summit 2009 by Dr. Mark Love, so I’ll keep this short. As I reflect upon my church planting ministry up to this point, I must shift away from initiating endeavors similar to my computer system build experience. Church planting ministry must spark reproduction and empower others into ministry. Instead, I have flourished at crafting good things that were dependent on my coordination, energy, and endurance for longevity.

There is much more I should say here to adequately unpack where I’m coming from (and what I am describing for that matter); however, for now, as part of this year’s Lenten journey, I am giving up church planting ministry ideas, activities, and expressions (even the good ones) that require my ongoing leadership and do not encourage, empower, and expect others (especially new leaders emerging from the harvest) to, in turn, return to the ripening fields. For me, this is a tough one, and I appreciate your prayers.

Dust Collector

9-year olds are quirky, beautiful, spazdek, smiley, and highly flammable. They also have a tendency to be quite obsequious. My 9-year old fits all of these descriptors, and she’s a sweet little thing (when she’s not choosing to be otherwise). She’s a lot like her Dad.
In the mornings, she reminds me of my last attempt at biscuit making...slow to rise. Again, she’s a lot like her Dad. Once she gets going, (for the most part) she’s fine, but that initial: “Hello world! It’s time to leap out of bed and spring into the day!” doesn’t happen. Actually, this is fine, because it doesn’t happen for me either.

This morning, we were running late (Dad included). I have a rule that if you are not ready to leave the house when Dad is ready to leave the house, then you are not going to leave the house with Dad. I’m glad my 9-year old doesn’t have the same rule. If that had been the case today, I would’ve walked. However, once we got to school, she (nonchalantly) paid me the greatest compliment. Now that I think about it, it’s the best compliment I’ve received in a good while. Now that I think about it (again), it’s the only compliment I’ve received in a good while. (Sorry...I couldn’t resist.)

The short story is that I am working at her school now. In the mornings, I spend 20 or so minutes reading with students. Sometimes they read to me and sometimes we all sit at the same table silently reading our own books. This morning, we were running late (Did I mention that?); and therefore, I did not remember to bring the book I’m currently reading, so I whipped out my iPod Touch and began silently reading John 12 from “The Voice” translation of the New Testament. At this point, one of the other students asked what I was reading to which I replied in short, “The Bible.” Then, my daughter said something that shocked me. She looked up from her own book in the direction of the student that had asked me what I was reading and said (in this “Yup...that’s my Dad” kind of voice), “Yeah, he’s always reading the Bible.”

My daughter came to live with us in 2004. Until recently, she has only known me as a full-time pastor, and until today, to my knowledge, she has never said anything like that about me before. I never gave her a reason to.

As part of this year’s Lenten journey, I am giving up my passe, read it only for sermon preparation, “yeah...yeah I know it says that somewhere in there...” approach to the Bible. As part of this year’s Lenten journey, I am giving up my information for information sake, go to the Scriptures to prove a point, know a lot about but resist its formation and change approach to the Bible. I just don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to sit around talking about the book as if it’s words somehow exist outside of the context of my life. It’s not a governmental treatise or mathematics textbook. It’s not a do-it yourself manual or university handbook. It’s not even basic instructions before leaving earth, although the acronym is (almost) a spark of creativity. How was it...the last time you meditated day and night on the Internal Revenue Manual (all CPAs not withstanding)?

As I give up such approaches to the Bible, I am hoping to pick up a hunger and thirst for the God revealed through the Scriptures. I am hoping that the cultivation of passion for the Word continues in me and into the lives of those I am around.

How can I not engage in a rhythm of Word, life, and communit(as) and not experience change? How can I not engage in a rhythm of Word, life, and communit(as) and recognize qualities of the Scriptures I had never noticed; and therefore, experience the transformation they initiate? How can we not dive (with others) into the Word on a daily basis swimming freely in the Living Water?

If Dancing with the Stars hinders you, throw your television out into the street.
If Facebook hinders you, put your computer in the dishwasher.
If running your kids from event to event hinders you, sell your car.
If working long hours hinders you, cancel your cell phone.

It’s better to delight in the law of the Lord over the course of a lifetime than to watch an entire season of American Idol and forget the names of half the contestants 6 months later.

More Goodies from the Vault

I wrote the following piece on November 19, 2008 for a group of Christ Journey supporters. I am thankful that the Lord is still leading us into connections with those who do not know him.

Tonight, during our house church gathering in my living room, she prayed for my daughter. Her name is [Carla], and she is around 19 or 20 years old. She lives in a neighboring town with her mother who was healed of cancer a couple of months ago. She was not raised in a Christian home, and had never had any contact with any church of any kind until February of this year. She wants to believe that God exists, is active in the world, and loves her; however, as with all of us, she needs a little help with her unbelief. She is seeking Him though...perhaps with more vigor than most of us realize. From time to time, she will send me text messages asking deep questions of faith. This was her most recent question: “If God loves us and wants us to follow him by loving others, why do Christians show so much hate toward homosexuals.” My response: “Great question, [Carla]. Sometimes, I ask myself the same thing.” She is not even a Christian yet, but God seems to be forming a Christ-like love for those who are rejected or considered outcasts. She is already coming to understand that there is more to life with God than asserting certain beliefs. Instead, as a community formed by the cross of Christ, daily, we pick up that cross living for the sake of others. I am thankful that [Carla] is a regular participant in the house church that I am a part of, because God is greatly using her to model such a life for me.

Tonight, during our house church gathering in my living room, she prayed (out loud for the very first time) for my daughter. She prayed that my daughter would not stray from her faith in Jesus as she grew older. She prayed that where ever the opportunities of this life took her that she would still be connected to Jesus Christ and the community of Christ Journey Church. Tonight, the fragrant sacrifice of out-loud prayers were offered before the Lord by [Carla], a dear friend and not-yet Christian who is growing in the ways of Christ.