restored to grace

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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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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Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.

He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.

Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;

but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.

On any given Sunday in Morristown and New Brunswick, there are dozens of tired, weary people pouring out their lives and hearts in service to the Kingdom of God. And as difficult as it is seeing my brothers and sisters weakened under the pressures of a busy Sunday, I know that the almighty Eternal One is immersing them in his strength.

Sometimes it appears that promises like the one in Isaiah are unfulfilled in our lives. We’re tired, worn out, burned out, weakened. And yet that miraculous strength has yet to show up to rejuvenate us, to refresh us.

But that strength doesn’t exist to help us out of a jam or to lift us out of weariness.

It exists to bring glory to our God. To remind us that, even in the moments where God feels distant, uncaring, or nonexistent, he is still in control.

To remind us that resurrection takes place all the time. To remind us that God is still in the business of giving life to the dead.

That strength is promised to those who trust that kind of resurrection power. So as I sit at a desk in my church’s offices, thinking about all the weary faces I encounter every Sunday, I am reminded of the power that calls the dead out of the grave.

To my brothers and sisters on staff at Liquid, when the strength-sapping Sundays come around, remember the power that can send you into the skies on eagles’ wings. Remember the power that conquers death.

And remember it belongs to you.

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This post was originally written in September 2008.

Who would have thought an afternoon doing some shopping at the Garden State Plaza and topping it off with a great meal at On the Border would yield a conversation about discovering who God wants us to be?

During the course of our dinner chat, my buddy Matt brought up an interesting thought about mankind’s primary relationships. He is first to connect with his Creator, for this is the chief of humanity’s priorities. He is then to connect with the woman, for this is the creation God designed intently and specifically for the man. All other relationships must take backseat.

As he talked about man’s responsibilities and purpose in relationship, my other friend Courtney brought up a frustration that most women have with men: they don’t step up. They’re weak and unwilling to follow their dreams of changing the world for Christ. They’re unwilling to become the men after God’s heart that they were designed to be. They’ve lost the will to be men.

As a group of single twenty-somethings, the natural inclination for us was to discuss how this affects our past and potential relationships. So let me follow that train of thought for a bit.

God designed us as sexual creatures. He placed His image on our lives in many ways, and our connection to each other on the sexual plane is just one of the myriad ways He’s done that.

Think about the idea of God loving the world. He longs to connect with the world, to share His joy with all of Creation. But Creation has not known or seen His love or is unwilling to experience His joy. So He places His Son into the hands of Creation and hopes that Creation accepts His proposal of love.

Parallel that with the man in his love for the woman. He longs to connect with the woman, to share his joy with her. But the woman doesn’t know his love or is unwilling to experience his joy. So he places his heart into the woman’s hands and hopes that she accepts his proposal of love.

Ironically enough, the woman wants more. And she deserves more. Like Courtney said, men have lost their willpower. We know what it means to be a good Christ-follower—trust Jesus and love others. But we’ve forgotten what it means to be a good man.

I know her frustration all too well.

I’ve dreamed big. I’ve longed to serve God with all that I am. I’ve desired to follow in the footsteps of men like King David, King Josiah, the Apostle Peter, and the Apostle Paul. Everything inside me cries out to God to allow me the opportunity to do great things for His Kingdom.

But I’m afraid.

I’m afraid, not because of outside forces or society’s push. I am determined to stand strong against that. I’m afraid, not because my friends may think I’m crazy to attempt such incredible things for a God I can’t even physically see. My friends would support me 100% in such an endeavor.

No, I’m afraid because of myself. I’m afraid because I know my flaws and my failures. I know my sins and my selfishness. I’ve seen myself falter time and time again.

That is why I’m afraid.

I dream to take on the world. I dream of doing great and innovative things for the Kingdom like Scott Harrison at Charity: Water, Tim Lucas at Liquid Church, and Shane Claiborne at The Simple Way have done.

But I’m afraid because I’ve seen where I’ve been and what I’ve done. I’ve been trudging through the mire of lust, barely able to come up for air. I’ve sloshed through the swamps of pride and selfishness, weakened by the downward pull of upward desires.

But worst of all, I’ve suffered through the guilt of my sin, and I’ve been robbed of my dreams. I’m afraid of the evil that I’m capable of.

So to all the “Courtneys” out there—women longing for men who will lead them, boys who are looking for men who will mentor them, and other men searching for strong men who will guide them—I have one request for you: pray for us. Don’t pray that we’ll come into your lives, because odds are we’re already there. Pray that we’ll stand out in your lives. Pray that we’ll overcome our fear of ourselves. Because when we overcome that fear, we’ll finally step up. We’ll become the leaders you want us to be.

Because I, for one, want to dream big again.

But this time, I want my dreams to come true.

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But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice. Yes, and I will continue to rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and the help given by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance.
~Philippians 1.18-19

Not too many years ago I spent a lot of time arguing about all the little details of inconsequential doctrines that, in retrospect, did more to hinder the movement of the Gospel than I thought. But there I was, more concerned with getting my point across than with investing in someone’s life.

And when I run into people who act the way I used to act, I get disgusted. I want to yell, “Don’t you know that your argumentative debates and judgmental rants are doing more harm than good?”

But I have to remind myself that God is still using those people. I may be turned off by their methods, but they’re still instruments in God’s hands.

I was talking to an old friend last night about some of the aspects of people within God’s Kingdom. Each person has his/her own spiritual gifts that reveal something about God in that person.

Take Bill, Mike, and Tom, for instance. Bill, the Student Ministries Pastor at Liquid Church, has quite obviously been blessed with the gift of compassionate love. God has chosen to reveal His attributes of community, love, and openness through Bill. On Tuesday mornings, Bill sets aside time simply to invest in our friendship. He has no agenda and no ulterior motive. We shoot into Morristown for an early cup of coffee and just learn about each other.

Mike, the Campus Pastor at Liquid Church New Brunswick, has been given the gift of service and humility. God’s mysterious nature as the ultimate Servant is very visible in Mike. He asserts no authority over anyone, but gently cares for people where their needs are. On any given Sunday morning, Mike has already poured my coffee, and is probably waiting for me to turn my back so he can set up my room when I’m not looking.

Tom, the Campus Pastor at Liquid Church Morristown, is an entirely different story. His obvious gift is knowledge and wisdom. He can spend hours poring over the Scriptures, and months later recall the deep mysteries embedded within them. And he has the creds to prove it. With degrees from Johns Hopkins, Columbia, Dallas Theological, and who-knows-where-else, Tom has clearly been chosen to reveal God’s occupation as the Master Teacher.

And when these three men work together, the Kingdom really begins to move forward. . .

(Post continued here. . .)

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I’m currently reading through the book of the Acts of the Apostles for my quiet time. It’s been such an enlightening experience looking through the eyes of the early followers of the Way and peeking into their experiences as the Church first entered the world. It must have been an exciting time.

But as the church scattered abroad, I can’t help but wonder if the Apostles ever thought, “I wish things were the way they used to be.” I mean, the church was pretty successful for a while remaining in Jerusalem. But Christ had told them to go around the world. And around the world they went.

Churches sprang up everywhere. Starting in Jerusalem, then Antioch, then Corinth, Rome, Philippi, Ephesus. . . the new movement spread like wildfire. How many times do you see phrases like, “and about three thousand were added to their number that day,” or “and a great number of people were brought to the Lord”? Over and over again we see the church surging in the number of people reached.

“Remember when we were all in Jerusalem? Man, those were the good ol’ days! When we were healing people in the big city, sharing all we had, giving speeches in all sorts of languages. I never even studied Italian, and there I was, speaking it!”

As I read through passages where major changes were taking place in the early Church, I began to feel nostalgic. I began to miss the days just a few short chapters ago when all the believers assembled in Solomon’s Colonnade.

Just a few months ago, Liquid Church was a group of believers meeting in one place. Early on a Sunday morning, I could walk up the Hyatt stairs and brush past Mike. We’d walk together up to the top of the stairs and chat with Lauren and Tom. The stage would be shared by both David’s moving vocals and Jens’ intense shreds. Bobby and I would lead the same group of kids in learning and worship.

But so much has changed since then. David and Jens no longer share the stage. Mike and Tom no longer greet people on the same set of stairs. Bobby and I no longer share the lesson for children.

Watching Mike introduce the service in Morristown brought me back to those days. The days when “all the believers used to meet together in Solomon’s Colonnade.”

And I found myself thinking, Remember when we were all in Morristown? Remember when we gave away gasoline and car washes? Remember when we raised money to build wells in Africa? Man, those were the good ol’ days!

But I’m wrong. No, these are the “good ol’ days.” The moments we’re in right now are the ones to treasure and make the most of. It’s nice to remember, but without those difficult changes, Liquid would have half the impact that it has now. And the Kingdom of God is moving through New Jersey twice as fast as it would if we were all still meeting in Morristown.

After the church spread out beyond the borders of Jerusalem, these words were written: “The word of the Lord spread through the whole region.”

See how far we’ve come?

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Father, I have brothers and sisters in Melbourne and the surrounding Victoria area who are hurting, frightened, and suffering. I’m scared for them too, Father-God. But I know You have a plan, even though we can’t see it in action right now. Your love still wins out, but it’s hard to see it right now. I can’t imagine what Kate, Nick, Karen, Tiffany, Kellie, and the rest of my family out there must be dealing with, but You can, and will, show Yourself strong on their behalf. I love You, Father-God, and I trust You have something beautiful planned at the end of this tragedy.

We can’t see the front of the tapestry You’re weaving; all we can see is the tangled mess that’s on the back of it. But You’re the Master of the tapestry, Father-God, and I know it will still be a gorgeous one.

But in the midst of this, Father, we’re scared. Please comfort us and assuage our fears. Put Your arms of strength and healing around my family out there staring at this inferno in their backyard. Place a hedge of protection around them so that at some point soon, I too can place my arms around them again as well.

I’m requesting all of this through Jesus.

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Have you ever seen someone you wish you could be like? Have you ever observed someone’s relationship with God and thought, I’d love to commune with my Creator like that?

I was mystified by that fervor when I came across it. I made mention of my admiration of her fellowship with Christ, and she responded, “You don’t know me that well. How can you know of my walk?”

One doesn’t have to know her well to observe the kind of relationship she has with her Father.

I saw her steal a quick prayer for no reason apparent to me. I watched her raise her hands in surrendered worship to her Maker. I witnessed the feverish intent with which she strove to remember the words of her Savior.

I saw the symptoms of an intense love and desire for God.

And it made me wonder if those symptoms could be seen in my life. It made me ask of myself, “Does my love for God permeate every part of my being, spilling out so that those around me can see my desire to know and serve Him through those kinds of actions?”

I sometimes feel slightly ashamed when I see that kind of desire for God. It makes me wish I could experience God the same way.

But it would be a tragedy if I stopped there. Because that feeling of shame will lead to despair, at which point I’d be following a religion, not faith. Instead, I see that she’s given me something to aspire to. She’s given me the hope that, if I simply allow God to continue the good work He began in me, I too can have that kind of intimate fellowship with my Savior.

So what about you? Do you have an example to follow? Is there someone in your life you can look at and say, “He truly longs to serve God.” Not perfect, but asking God to make him so.

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God sends people into our lives for a reason. We don’t always know what that reason is, but there is one nonetheless. Sometimes it’s to teach us a lesson about him. Other times it’s to teach us a lesson about ourselves.

And there are times when he wants to teach us a lesson about both ourselves and himself.

When that person came into my life, I had no idea that God would be teaching me some very hard-hitting lessons. Not the least of which was that I sometimes need to let people out of my life, no matter how painful that may be.

It ended up being far more difficult than I realized it would be, and took me a lot longer than it rightfully should have taken. And I’ll admit, the way I went about it wasn’t the most noble. Heck, it was sloppy and hurtful. But something happened the day I finally let go. God grabbed me again. He drew me close to his heart and said, “See, you don’t need someone else. You need only me.”

Why did I have to do that? Why did I have to let go? There are countless reasons, but none rings truer than this: someone had replaced God as the primary focus of my attention. First thing in the morning, I’d get a phone call from her. Right before bed, I’d call her. I’d spend four to six hours of my day in conversation with another human being. Shouldn’t those time slots have been reserved for God?

But now the question begins gnawing at my mind: do I seek restitution?

I know for a fact that what I did hurt her. I’m supposed to live at peace with all men to the best of my ability. And the hurt that took place could have easily been prevented. But I didn’t take any steps to prevent the pain, and the damage has been done. But when I ask for forgiveness, can I do so without allowing her into my life again? Or, if I do allow her in again, will I be able to keep my life Christ-centered and not person-centered?

But then again, after what I did, would she even want me in her life again?

Either way, this question still stands: can I keep Christ first in my life and not put others in his place? Because I learned something about him. He cannot, and will not, share first place in my heart.

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I was browsing my RSS reader when I came across a new post from my favorite blogger. Her thoughts really got me thinking about the way we view church here in America, and the tension between what she refers to as “Pretty Church” and “Messy Church.” Regardless, I do believe that the Church has this purpose: to be a loving community of people who, above all else, long to serve their Creator.

Unfortunately, my church experience is drifting away from that.

I don’t want to make any excuses, but put a group of singles together week after week, all of whom are in their mid-twenties to early-thirties, and you’re asking for difficulties. Petty drama follows after foolish arguments. The childish nature of relationship-seeking Facebookers spills over into the mission of the Church and poisons much of our interaction.

I say all of this ironically because I’m the chief culprit.

But I’m quitting now. The urban tribe doesn’t belong in the Church, and I’m putting an end to my involvement in it on Sundays. I’ve turned the service and worship experience into a live-action social network and begun to feed off the silliness of my “Sunday-night playdates.”

As brothers and sisters in Christ, our primary aim should be to encourage one another in spiritual growth. But much of what I’ve seen lately has been just the opposite. I had to ask myself this question last Sunday night on my way home from Liquid: What am I doing to help my fellow Christ-followers grow closer to Him? Conversely, am I actively seeking relationships that will nurture my fellowship with Christ? Or am I content with hanging out with people who worship during the service on Sundays, but never ask me about my fellowship with my Savior? When was the last time I asked someone that question?

So, my experiment. . . I’m going to avoid the Qube Lounge after the last service this Sunday. If anyone wants to join me, you’re more than welcome. If no one does, that’s fine too. I know that at the end of 15 hours serving at church, I’ll probably need to spend some time alone with my God.

What about you? Have you turned your church into a social gathering? If so, do you think you’d be willing to join me in stepping away from your urban tribe and re-opening the Word by yourself or in small community within hours after the pastor has said his final sentence?

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