restored to grace

I’m about to tell you a secret. I’ve been keeping this to myself for a while.

I miss being in Morristown on Sunday mornings. I built relationships there. I learned, served, and loved. Leaving hasn’t been easy.

And it hurts. A lot.

And circumstances haven’t made the transition easier either. Am I glad to be a part of what God is doing in New Brunswick? Of course I am! It’s always exciting to be a part of something new. Am I excited about the new work taking place there on Sundays? Words can’t even come close to describing how psyched I am!

But when I think back to the days I was in Morristown, and how smoothly things run at Liquid Kids Morristown, how big the volunteer team is, and how awesome it was working with Bobby (Liquid Kids Director), I grow jealous. I hear Satan whispering to me, “LK New Brunswick isn’t as successful. People here don’t care as much as the people in Morristown do. Maybe you should go back.”

The internal struggle was heightened when I noticed how small the team in New Brunswick is. How can we serve so many people with so few hands? I thought. How can we create a successful program and an effective environment if no one is willing to help?

And then it seemed like God was sending me a signal. Bill, our student ministries pastor, got a message from the only assistant for my program. She was sick and wasn’t going to show up.

And I thought I heard a voice say, “You can’t handle this, Nate. Go back to Morristown. You need the Margin. Besides, this isn’t your job. It’s not your responsibility.”

Anne Jackson sent me an email with these words: “Stay prayed up about where you think God is calling you to go. Stay where you are and wait it out—or move on. Either way He’s going to teach you and use you throughout this tough process.”

I prayed. Harder.

And answers started coming.

The kids, despite my assumptions to the contrary, were actually learning (see yesterday’s post). My one missing room assistant was replaced by three people willing to fill in the gaps at the very last minute.

And the one that made my heart melt. . .

I was chatting with a couple team members about the fact that I’d be back in Morristown for a day. My campus pastor’s daughters overheard me talking about it and ran to their mom. “Mommy!” they shouted. “Can we go to Morristown that day too?”

I’m starting to think I’m gonna be homesick for New Brunswick that weekend.

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Hey friends! I just want to take a moment to share with you a big moment in the life of my church. This Sunday, January 11, we will be launching our newest campus in the heart of Central Jersey. Liquid Church New Brunswick officially marks the beginning of our adoption of the multisite church model as we continue to follow our vision of taking church to the people. So, on 1.11.2009, we will begin hosting six live services: 9 & 11am, and 4 & 6pm at the Hyatt Morristown; and 9 & 11am at the Hyatt Regency New Brunswick.

But that’s not all, folks. For those of you who don’t live anywhere near Morristown or New Brunswick, you can still celebrate the momentous occasion with us. . . because on 1.11.2009 we’re also launching the Liquid Church Internet Campus (or iCampus, for short)! If you’d like to participate in a live online worship session with Liquid Church, just swing by Liquid’s iCampus website on Sunday, Jan. 11, at 11am EST. (Unfortunately, if you’re in Melbourne, Australia, live online worship takes place on Monday, Jan. 12, at 3am. But then again, if you’re in Melbourne, Australia, why not just join up with our Liquid Church Melbourne peeps? To find out more about Liquid Melbourne, check out their page on Facebook.)

To make way for all the changes taking place at Liquid, we posted a new website. Check it out at LiquidChurch.com.

So mark your calendars, everybody. January 11, 2009, is going to be a huge day!

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I had a bit of a “revelation” recently. I started thinking about Christ’s enemies, the Pharisees. In Matthew 23.27-28, Christ proclaims judgment on the Pharisees for their hypocritical behavior. In the previous verses, he condemns them for cleaning the outside of the cup, but leaving the inside filthy, full of greed and self-indulgence.

Conversely, Jesus proclaims blessing on the tax collectors (who, in that day, were known for being cheats, swindlers, and thieves, in addition to being traitors to Jewish tradition by allowing the Roman government to sign their paychecks) in Luke 18.9-14. Christ commends this man for his honesty. For his willingness to come face to face with his brokenness and ask God to forgive him. The man went to God in the middle of his sin; he didn’t cover it up or hide it behind nice clean robes. He put his rags out there for all to see.

I’m not saying that throwing on a pair of jeans to go to church is equivalent to putting our sinfulness on display. But I’m gonna let you in on a little secret about myself. . .

Growing up, getting dressed up for church was the thing to do. Everyone at church was in a jacket and tie or a nice dress. As I grew up, I began using the suit as a way to keep people out. As I tied my Windsor knot (or Four-in-Hand, as the occasion or shirt collar called for it), I would look in the mirror and notice that I looked well put-together. To the casual observer, I had everything in order.

But to the keen eye (namely, God’s), my life was a mess. Underneath the necktie, the European-vent suit coat, and the crisply pressed shirt was a man whose brokenness was suppressed. I lied to myself every Sunday.

I lied to God every Sunday.

I’m not an advocate of being casual at church. I’m an advocate of being honest. I’m an advocate of letting God see inside you. For me, that meant tearing down the barrier of the suit. I know where my mind used to go whenever I put on the jacket. Somewhere in the back of my thought closet a voice would say, “Put on the jacket. God can’t see through that.”

But how can God fix us if we’re not willing to reveal the fact that we’re broken?

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