restored to grace

Sundays at the Hyatt in Morristown, NJ, are always busy and hectic days. At 4:30am a team of roadies begins loading in the equipment that later becomes the stage for three church services in one of the main ballrooms. At 7:00am another team of roadies starts converting the hotel conference rooms into children’s playrooms and classrooms. Simultaneously, a rock band shows up to rehearse their set for the three church services that day. Around 8:00am service administrators and team leaders start showing up to get ready for the first service. They put files together, set up registration desks, and prepare their teams for the coming services. At 8:30am, volunteer teams arrive to do their jobs. Some of them are teachers. Others are sound technicians. Some are mentors. Others are videographers.

And at 9:00am every Sunday, the first service at Liquid Church begins.

But somewhere in the middle of all this seemingly frenetic activity, real life change is taking place.

During the longer break between services I was wandering around the Hyatt peeking in on some of the volunteers who were finally getting their first break of the day. Some of the band members were napping behind the stage. A roadie was lying on some chairs in the back of the main ballroom. A few mentors were enjoying some snacks by the hotel bar.

I stopped at a small group of high schoolers sitting in a circle of chairs in the hotel lobby. They all had matching notebooks out and looked like they were having a good time; the sight intrigued me, so I decided to have a look. One of them showed me a chart from their notebooks. Across the top in bold letters was the phrase “Systematic Theology.” This revelation to me couldn’t have come at a better time. It reinforced in my mind that there’s a generation coming after mine that is doing everything possible to get to know God better.

I almost cried when I saw it.

Because sometimes it’s easy, especially at a church like mine, to get caught up in a Christianity that gives you that immediate spiritual high. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all. Hearing a song set that moves you from dancing in the aisles celebrating our freedom in Christ to raising our arms in complete surrender to his love to breaking down in tears of humility knowing we have nothing apart from him—that’s a fantastic place to be. Sitting under powerful teaching that points your heart and mind to the intensity of Christ’s love and grace—it’s phenomenal to get that.

Seeing the looks on people’s faces when you’re giving them free coats with no strings attached—it’s no wonder Christ told us that giving is more blessed than receiving.

And I see it in our high schoolers when they open their Bibles and really search for who Christ is. I see it in our middles schoolers when they’re riveted to our youth pastor as he unveils to them a Jesus that doesn’t their their preconceived notions of who Jesus is.

They want to know God.

And when the middle and high schoolers get excited about knowing God, the ripple effects of their excitement spread to all other parts of the Church. A church filled with kids who want more of Jesus is an insanely powerful church. The strength of Liquid Church isn’t going to be measured by how loud the music is or how eloquently Pastor Tim speaks. It won’t be measured by how many new volunteers start serving each week or how many first-time guests show up.

No, the strength of Liquid Church will be measured by how many kids in our Student Ministries program discover who Jesus is and study the Bible to encounter him.

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After our Life Group meeting a handful of us went to a tavern nearby to spend some time in fellowship. While we were sitting/standing by the bar, I noticed something about our group—our unity in Jesus is so powerful that it holds us together and creates an oddly diverse group. And our diversity is attractive.

A group of people nearby noticed us and started chatting with us. We told them that we’re part of a church, and the natural skepticism ensued, followed by a bit of curiosity. As we chatted more I found that these people actually admired us. I’m pretty sure we’re different from most Christians they’ve come across.

Christ said that the world would know that we are his followers because of our love. For a while I’d thought of it this way: our love is so pervasive that people take notice of it. But I think that it’s actually deeper than that. Sure, our love is pervasive and overwhelming, but there’s something else going on.

Jesus distinctly said that it would be our love for each other that would distinguish us from the world.

Let me put it into perspective. One of the guys who was chatting with us noticed a girl in our group. He asked me if I’d planned on hitting that (and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t joking, but he was genuinely curious based on some other stuff I’d said earlier in our conversation). I said simply that I loved her too much to do that. And he was a bit confused.

See, the world defines love in these terms: “I love her so much that I should have sex with her.” But a Christian packs a whole lot more into the concept of love that it actually sounds like this: “I love her too much to have sex with her.” Because to a Christian, the “her” in question is a sister. A sister that should be loved, cherished, respected, and protected.

Of course, that earns us labels like “prude” and “anti-sex.” It’s unfortunate because sex is what I believe to be the most powerful manifestation of the image of God in humanity. So why is the Church considered anti-sex?

It’s tragic that the Church has given sex over to society. We’ve shirked our responsibility to show the beauty of God’s relationship with humanity through sex and decided to not talk about it.

Someone had to pick up the slack. Turns out it’s the culture.

So here’s my question: are we going to do anything about it? Or are we going to let society control sex? Let’s go, Church! We’ve got an opportunity here. . . let’s not waste anymore time.

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I’m not sure how to describe what took place last night. I was struck by the unity of spirit and heart in my Life Group.

In John 17 Christ spends time praying for his followers. The conversation he has here are the last recorded words he exchanges with the Father before he is sentenced to death.

He knows its the last time he’ll get to be alone with his Father while on earth.

And what does he ask for? He asks for unity among his followers.

And look at what we’ve done to answer his prayer. Baptist, Christian Missionary Alliance, Pentecostal, Catholic, Episcopalian, Reformed, Presbyterian, Evangelical-Free, Anglican, Methodist, Apostolic, Lutheran, Fundamentalist, Charismatic, Brethren. . . . Do you see where I’m going?

So last night at Life Group we talked about Catholicism. Interesting topic given the fact that our group is overwhelmingly Protestant. But the ability to discuss our differences without bashing each other’s beliefs was so refreshing.

I’m fairly certain that one of Satan’s primary goals is to disrupt unity among Christ-followers. I’m not saying that Martin Luther was wrong for inciting division in the Catholic Church. There was an obvious need for change, and he pointed out many practices that were poisoning the minds of Christ-followers.

But as the Protestant movement became a powerful tool for the Kingdom, Satan seized the opportunity to attack it. And his attack came in the form of division.

Christ prayed for unity, and Satan is battling that as much as he can.

But last night, divisiveness was defeated. In one room, Catholic, CMA, E-Free, Reformed (and whoever else was sitting in that circle) came together and declared that our God and Saviour is Jesus, and that life is about nothing more or less than knowing and loving him.

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It had been almost a year since I last connected with this friend. We met tonight at the Barnes & Noble on Rte. 10 in Morris Plains. I decided to go early so that I could do some book browsing before she arrived.

I found a book about the Apostle Paul and flipped through it a little. As I did, I began to daydream a little. What would it have been like to travel with him? Was he a somber guy, or did he have a clever sense of humor?

And what would it be like to walk alongside someone who understood that deeply what it meant to live a missional lifestyle, who understood the synergy created when cross, culture, and community meet within a life?

As I was making my way from the Religion section to the Science Fiction section, I heard my name called. It was my friend.

After barely a minute of small talk, our conversation dove right into ministry. As we shared our hearts, passions, and discoveries with each other, I couldn’t help but sense that she too was experiencing the same “dip” that I am now crawling out of.

And it’s tough.

It’s tough when God has given you a gift and placed on you a calling, and circumstances push you away from where you feel called. And it’s tough when you look within and find that your own sin, guilt, and depression are pulling you away from taking any step towards what God has called you to.

And it’s tough when that call is ministry, and you know that your ability to serve is almost completely shot.

But, like my friend said tonight, finding yourself drawn to ministry, regardless of how often you’re tossed around and pulled away from it, means that you’re meant for it. When you long for the trenches, for the spiritual battle over the souls of people who surround you. When your mind isn’t satisfied until you’ve filled it with God’s word. When your arms itch to embrace the hurting and broken soul. When your lips purse at the thought of sharing with others everything God has taught you. When your ears perk up at the cries of the youth who is lost, frightened, and alone.

You were meant to be in the trenches.

As I sipped my tea, my friend looked straight into my eyes and asked me, “How is your relationship with God?”

She was meant to be in the trenches.

She drove right to that question. Everything else in our conversation had flowed organically, but this question didn’t. No, it was purposed. Directed. Intentional.

It was as if that was the only thing she wanted to ask me. As if the night would be incomplete if she didn’t help wake me up to the realization that I was headed down the same path the led me into this dark valley I’ve been in.

She knew what was important and how to get at it.

And she opened my heart to a truth I only recently began to notice.

I’ve not been connecting with my Daddy.

And crucial to living a missional lifestyle is maintaining an unbroken, open connection with God.

Because without that connection, we can’t be like Jesus.

And being missional is being like Jesus,

(who was more human than anyone else)

which makes us more human than we were before,

so that we can better connect to the broken and hurting humans who would never listen to us unless we fully realize our own humanity.

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Last night in the basement of a house in Lake Hopatcong, NJ, our entire youth staff had fallen face down on the floor in humble adoration of the cross, of grace, and of our Saviour. It was a moment I won’t soon forget as it was the moment that could very well catalyse a new movement within the Liquid community to pour into the next generation like never before.

I won’t bore you with all the details of the changes in store for our SM program or annoy you with boastings of some of the great things we have planned as a youth ministry, but I will tell you this: never before have I felt that my journey in faith had landed somewhere until now.

I can’t pinpoint an exact moment when I placed my trust in Christ, but at some point just two years ago, I knew beyond any doubt that my life belonged to the King of the universe. And over the course of the last two years I went through so many changes and shifts that I began to lose any sense that I even remotely resembled the Nate Nakao prior to 2007.

And while I still feel like I’m in a bit of a “dip,” my future is beginning to come into focus just a little more. But even if the specifics change, I know without any lack of conviction that the rest of my life will be dictated by this sentence: I love the next generation.

I took on an interim directorial role for the children’s program at Liquid, but as I look back on my term in that position, I realize, to my shame, the lack of seriousness I had with the role. I was tasked with taking the gospel to a future generation, and I could barely stay focused long enough to complete that task Sunday to Sunday. It’s a wonder the program didn’t fall apart with me at the helm.

But the gravity of my calling hit me last night. My role as a youth leader is one of utmost importance. My task is a grave and urgent one. My Missio Dei is the same as that of all others: take the gospel to all. But in its specificity, my mission calls me to the youth culture. A culture where the idea of a Creator God who loves them enough to die for them is a foreign idea. A culture that is crying out for connection in all areas that they turn to social media—the greatest tool for and weapon against the fulfillment of their desire to connect. A culture that has found something to live for, but is longing for something to die for.

And so I go forward, taking what I’ve learned and experienced these last few years and building it into who I am going to be.

I lay for my life a foundation characterised by:
Grace – Nothing distinguishes the believer more than his/her unbounded love.
The Cross – The Chosen one of God selected death as his means to bring life to a dead world. It is the central point of history and the fabric by which all life holds together.
The Culture – The point at which I am ineffective in connecting to the culture is the point at which I cease to live out my call. Universally, the point at which any believer ceases to communicate effectively with the culture that surrounds him/her is the point at which he is no longer fulfilling the Missio Dei given directly to him/her in Matthew 28.18-20.

Today I declare my life’s mission. And every tomorrow to follow will carry with it an opportunity to live my mission. My prayer is that I will seize every one of those opportunities. I just hope I never miss one again.

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It’s winter.

Not just the season of the year, but the season of my life. There’s a cold desolation that’s been eating away at me for a long time. I’m not sure if I can attribute it to any particular circumstance, event, or situation, but it tears at my heart nonetheless.

And I find no balm.

Cold. Empty. Desolate. Dry. I find myself attempting to satiate my search for warmth in anything that gives off temporal heat. But I cannot find satisfaction.

And I remember the fire that once burned inside me. The passion with which I burned and the flames that swirled within my soul.

The fire of God’s Spirit searing its way through every fiber of my being.

But after circumstances changed, I began to feel a lack of power. And the lack of power began to feel like helplessness. And the helplessness began to feel like desolation.

But the Spirit hadn’t left me. He was trying to show me something about himself.

That he cares.

Christ called him the Comforter. And I’ve certainly needed comforting.

And tonight, when I feel most alone and confounded, he’s here, whispering in my ear, telling me to “cast all [my] anxiety on him because he cares for [me].”

Maybe soon I’ll feel him empowering me again, using me to accomplish magnificent things for his kingdom.

But for now I just need to rest in the knowledge that he’s my Comforter, quietly salving my intangible pain.

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I recently wrote an article for a magazine published by Cornerstone Church in Chandler, AZ. Click here to read the article. Hope you enjoy!

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It’s been a while since I’ve written anything here. I feel like my life has been at a standstill, and I suppose that’s what’s being reflected here.

I’ve suffered a few hurts over the past few months—several obstacles that I’ve found it difficult to get past. But it seems God’s not finished with me.

Last week I had a conversation with a friend of mine that was a little jarring and difficult to get through. I understand she was just being honest about her assessment of me, but there are things I’m not comfortable with, and, while it may be to my detriment, I may never feel comfortable with them.

But hearing her opinion on this matter may be the catalyst needed for my realizing a new and better me.

To be honest, I don’t think I’m ready to make the changes she suggested. It’s foreign to me, and it makes me feel vulnerable and naked. But I understand her point, and I see where my spiritual and emotional health would be benefited by implementing these changes.

I think we all have things in our lives that, when someone points them out to us, we cringe at the thought of. But we’re just not ready to change those things. Because doing so would weaken the defenses we’ve spent our whole lives building.

I like where I am. It’s comfortable and familiar. It’s easy, and that’s what makes it dangerous.

But perhaps I need to take some risks. We’re getting close to 2010. Maybe it’s time for some resolutions.

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I was reading though Exodus recently, and I was struck by the beauty of the narrative. It’s a sweeping epic tale of the humble beginnings of the nation of Israel brought about by the overwhelming power of the Almighty.

And in the middle of this whirlwind was a man named Moses—a man who was born a slave, raised a prince, trained a shephered—a man with the audacity to defy the king of the most powerful empire in the world.

But like so many times throughout human history, God chose to use the ordinary to accomplish the miraculous.

Moses was not the epic leader we think of him as.

Sure, Egypt may have hailed him as her future king. And yes, he led Israel out of her captivity under Egypt’s fist.

But Moses was a coward who was full of excuses.

He ran away after killing a man, afraid of his royal family’s power.

When God gave him the charge to lead the Hebrew people out of Egypt, he whined. “I can’t face Pharaoh. Who am I to such a great king?”

You mean, other than a prince who might have been in line to take the throne of Egypt?

But God says, “I will be with you.” The Almighty has placed his Spirit upon Moses.

And still he complains?

“But what if they ask me who sent me? What do I tell them?”

Moses, isn’t it enough that the God of the universe has asked you to do something and has given you his power to accomplish the task? You have to keep worrying about the hypothetical?

“But what if they don’t believe me?”

Jeez, Moses! What do you want, a miracle?

“Oh, I forgot. . . I suck at public speaking.”

Who created you, Moses? Who gave you the ability to speak? What does God have to do to get our attention?

And as annoyed as God might have been with Moses, there’s a sentence in Exodus 33 that reads: “Inside the Tent of Meeting, the Lord would speak to Moses face-to-face, as a man speaks to a friend” (emphasis added).

God doesn’t come to us as a friend because we ask him to. He doesn’t bend to the will and desires of humans. God speaks to us as a friend because he wants to.

His words are right in front of you. He’s writing to you as a friend. Are you paying attention to him?

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Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we’ve been given a brand-new life and have everything to live for, including a future in heaven—and the future starts now! God is keeping careful watch over us and the future. The Day is coming when you’ll have it all—life healed and whole.

I know how great this makes you feel, even though you have to put up with every kind of aggravation in the meantime. Pure gold put in the fire comes out of it proved pure; genuine faith put through this suffering comes out proved genuine. When Jesus wraps this all up, it’s your faith, not your gold, that God will have on display as evidence of his victory.

You never saw him, yet you love him. You still don’t see him, yet you trust him—with laughter and singing. Because you kept on believing, you’ll get what you’re looking forward to: total salvation.

I read passages like these, and during a normal season of my life, it fills me with hope and excitement. But there are dark times that make reading something like this difficult and frustrating. “A day is coming” sounds cheap, almost like “It’s gonna be okay” when you know better.

And it’s easy to feel that way. It’s almost like there’s no way out of a rut you’ve been in for too long. It’s easy to give in because it’s been like this for what feels like an eternity. There’s no direction to life, no purpose anymore, no real fulfillment where there once was pure joy.

But maybe this is for the better. As dark as today may seem, there is a tomorrow. And through the trials we become better, stronger, more resilient. We may not see the completion of our salvation now, but take heart. God has promised to complete it. Like Paul wrote to the church in Philippi, “I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.”

In 627 BCE a man named Jeremiah began his ministry in ancient Israel. He wasn’t exactly a popular fellow because he promised his country that they would be taken captive and hauled away to a foreign land. Obviously people didn’t want to hear that their great nation was going to be defeated and carried off.

But Jeremiah spoke the truth.

In 586 BCE the Babylonian Empire swept through Israel and hauled the population off to Babylon.

But in the middle of all of Jeremiah’s predictions of destruction was a word of hope.

This is what the Lord says: “You will be in Babylon for seventy years. But then I will come and do for you all the good things I have promised, and I will bring you home again. For I know the plans I have for you. They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me. I will be found by you. I will end your captivity and restore your fortunes. I will gather you out of the nations where I sent you and will bring you home again to your own land” (emphasis added).

In the middle of our pain and suffering,

in the middle of our distress and anxiety,

in the middle of our frustration and hopelessness,

God promises a future.

And because of Jesus, that future starts now.

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