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My wife, Jennifer, is 8 ½ months pregnant with our third child. Her due date is July 4th (Independence Day in more than one regard). She is about to burst and is dying to hold our child (which by the way, is another girl).

Not too long ago we were lying in bed and I had my hand on her belly feeling the baby move. As I did, I began thinking about how strange it must be to have this “other” living inside of you. My wonder ran off in all sorts of directions and I was just trippin’ out at the whole experience. Now seeing as I am a guy and I’ve never had, nor ever will have, a baby living and growing inside of me, I began asking Jennifer some questions. At least that was my intent, but we never left my first question, which was, “Jen, are you constantly aware of the baby’s movement inside of you? Like all throughout the day?”

She paused and thought about it, replying, “You know, I’m not. It is only when I sit still and pay attention that I feel her moving inside of me. I mean there are times when she moves a certain way and it gets my attention while I’m going about my daily stuff, but typically, it’s only when I am still that I feel her movement.”

Epiphany.

How true is that. I mean it’s true with babies and pregnant women and all (or so I’m told by one), but how true it typically is with God as well. God is constantly moving in and all around me. God is here. Present. But it seems I am only aware of God when I slow down, quiet my inner self, and listen, watch, pay attention. Sure, sometimes God moves in such a way that really gets my attention even when I am oblivious and haven’t given God much thought. But typically, it is me not paying attention to God’s movement that causes me to think God is not moving in and around me, than it is God not moving. Does that make sense?

See, God is moving all around me, every day, every minute, in all sorts of ways, in every life. It is during those times when I listen, and watch, and am willing to participate in what God is doing, that God’s movement begins to surface to my awareness. And sometimes, just me feeling and watching and witnessing God’s movement causes me to smile in wonderment at how beautiful and good and kind God truly is.

Which causes me to think back to seeing and feeling my wife’s belly roll around from Scout’s little elbows and knees and hands and feet and bottom and head. Even experiencing her movement from the outside-looking-in causes me to smile in wonderment at how beautiful and good and kind God truly is. How much more so Jen, who gets to share in the beauty of caring for “another” who dwells inside of her and who is constantly moving.

But who am I kidding, there is no way in hell that I would be able to go through the pain of birthing Scout. So I’ll accept my maleness and gladly be on the outside-looking-in. What can I say, if men were given the lot of childbirth, humanity would have become extinct a long, long time ago. (I just realized that this last paragraph has nothing to do with this post. Oh well).

Chad got me thinking (dangerous, I know).

When Jesus says to love our enemies, who does he mean? Even “enemies” like Bin Laden? Or just our private, personal enemies?

If we saw Bin Laden on the street and had the power to take his life, should we? If not, what should the proper response of a follower of Jesus and his way be?

If we are called to love even the “Bin Ladens” of our world, what does that look like? What does it really mean to LOVE our enemies? What actions? What words? Who are some examples of people throughout history, or even in your personal circle, that demonstrated love for their enemies in real and tangible ways? Does love also entail forgiveness?

If we can’t love enemies like Bin Laden, then who can we love? Really?

Instead of asking God to cultivate something, may I see, hear and be in-tune to what God is already cultivating around me. May I have the courage to trust and join God’s cultivation regardless how unknown, mysterious, distant or “in-the-dark” it may presently seem.

May I strive less to do for the sake of doing, and instead, pause more to listen in order to become aware of what he is doing.

God is cultivating all around me. Am I noticing? Do I care?

Have you ever been reading a book and got to a sentence—or thought—that stops you in your tracks? Where you try to continue reading, but the gravitational pull of the sentence keeps bring you back to its words? Then that moment comes when you resist fighting it, dog-ear the page, put the book down and let the words permeate your mind, replaying them over and over again. This was one of those sentences for me.

I was reading through the book, Dialogue-The Art of Thinking Together, by William Issacs, and was cruising along until page 169 crashed into me. The section was titled, “What Is My Music—and Who Will Play It?” It began (like all sections should, in my humble opinion) with a story. A pianist, Michael Jones, was tickling the ivory when an old man approached him and struck up a conversation. The old man asked about the music Michael just played and he answered, “That was an arrangement of Moon River”. “No, before that,” the old man asked. “That was some of my own music,” Michael replied. The old man then said, “You are wasting your time with ‘Moon River’.” He continued and asked, “Who will play your music if you don’t do it yourself?”

Stop.

Did you read his question?

That was the one whose gravity would not (and has not) release me. “Who will play your music if you don’t do it yourself?”

William Issacs then fleshes it out a bit more:

“People often say it is hard to know what their music is, no less find the courage to offer it. Sometimes we know what we would express but require the courage to bring it out. The resolve that wells up from within us first to find out what our music is, and then to give us the permission to give it, is the molten core energy of your voice.” Wow! Then he just keeps going . . .

“We all have a tendency for self-censorship, for withholding what we think for fear of upsetting others or disturbing the order of things. But finding our music involves listening in a deep way to what we may not have dared voice. [...] ask yourself, What do I most long to create in the world? And why do I long to create it? Setting aside all the counterforces that would tend to dismiss this question as impractical and irrelevant is an enormous part of this process. But holding Michael’s simple question in your heart can go a long way toward opening doors you would not expect to open. Finally, we must also ask ourselves what might be at risk if you do not bring it out—as well as if you do? What choices are you making now about how much of your voice you express?”

Wow.

This idea of finding out what your music is and having the courage to play it—’cause if you don’t, who will?—is crucial to what it means to follow God and the leading of his spirit. Why do I blog? Because it is my music. Why am I feeling led to help create a different expression of “church”? Because it is my music. Why do I love my wife and kids and God and neighbors? Because is it my music. Is it the only music? Nope. Is it the best music? Nope. Are there some who don’t like it? Yep. Are there others who are moved by it? Yep. Is it the correct music? Do you see how that is the wrong question when it comes to music? It’s my music (that God has inspired in my heart) and if I don’t play it, lean in to it, embrace it—who will?

Page 169 was worth the price of the book.

I really believe that if we are all busy courageously playing our God-given Kingdom-music, we will be too busy to sabotage, disrupt and hate-on others’ music.

And I have a hunch that the world will be better off from the musical tapestry we will create.

So the question begs to be asked, What Is Your Music—and Will You Play It?

What if we, as the church, were invisible? What if we had no church buildings? No signs declaring a church location? No denominations or headquarters? No mega weekend gatherings? No Christian radio presence? No Christian stores? No Christian bumper stickers or other outward personal identifying stuff? What if the Yellow Pages didn’t have a “church” category and if you Googled “church” it came up with no search results? What if there was no such “thing” as the church? Would there still be a church?

What if we, as the church, were invisible? What if we simply lived the life of Jesus, speaking and displaying his love to the people we knew and came in contact with on a daily basis? What if we as followers of Jesus simply did just that? What if we gathered quietly in homes to break bread and encourage each other in Christ; where our goal would be to simply live as agents of God’s restoration, serving God and the “other” in real and tangible ways? What if church were not a weekend thing, but a people who radically lived behind the cultural scenes bringing God’s kingdom to earth?

What if God’s church was more like a tiny mustard seed instead of trying to be the biggest oak tree on the hill? What if Jesus’ church was more like a tiny amount of yeast…itself unnoticed, yet quietly transforming and restoring people and, in turn, culture? What if the Holy Spirit’s church sought to be the last and the least—a servant? What if the church daily sought self-death—dying to itself and loosing its life in order to find it—instead of doing all it can to save its life? What if God’s church chose to sit down in the least honored seat of society and culture, instead of clamoring and fighting for the most prestigious one? What if the church “thing” disappeared and all that was left was the church—people who realize they are forgiven and loved by God and who actively want to be a part of his restorative and healing work in lives of other’s?

In other words, what if the church was invisible—or even better: visible, yet invisible? What if?

We took a walk as a family yesterday. As we walked, I looked down and saw one small piece of a torn up, hand written letter on the ground. Allow me to share with you what it said:

FRONT SIDE OF THE LETTER:

BACK SIDE OF THE LETTER:

So there you have it…part of a two-sided personal letter. Pretty limited, huh? Just a part of the whole, huh?

People are a lot like this letter. I only can see and know a part of them. I just have a small portion of the whole. A torn fragment…nothing more. It is when I judge and label the part that I see as the WHOLE that things get messy. People get hurt. Names are thrown. Fear is induced. But when I have the humility and honesty to accept that I only know them in part, and can only know them in part, perhaps then I can resist the need to label and categorize them as if I know them wholly.

God’s revelation of himself is also like this letter. He has only revealed himself partly to us. He has done this particularly through creation, scripture, and ultimately through Jesus (though, to a degree, he also reveals himself in other ways to us as well). But each of these are only limited revelations of God and who he truly is. When I believe these partial revelations—or worst yet, my understanding and interpretations of them—as WHOLE, that is when things get messy. Lines are drawn. Camps are divided. People get hurt. But when I have the humility and honesty to accept that I only know—and can only know—in part, perhaps then I can resist the need to claim perfect truth, and label and categorize others. Perhaps then I can begin to trust God like a baby trusts her mom—in love, not in knowledge.

Perhaps it’s then, with baby-like trust, that I begin to realize and experience the Kingdom of God.

Suppose I live in one room of a house my entire life. I never leave this room and this room has only one window looking outside. To me, this window-view of the outside world—the trees, the hills, the sky—is the only view. To me, this is what the outside world looks like: what I see out of my one window. It is all I have ever known or seen of outdoor reality, so to me, it is reality, it is truth. If someone were to ask me what the great outdoors looks like, I would describe (and likely defend) my view from my window…as I should, it is all I’ve ever known.

But one day, I hear a tap at my door. Expecting it to be locked like all the other times, I try to open it and to my surprise, it opens. There is a kind, old man (there is always an old man in good stories) standing in a hallway which I’ve never seen. He greets me and leads me to another door down the hall. He slowly opens it, revealing another room. Cautiously and with great hesitation, I step in and am floored. This new room is very different from mine and it too has a window looking outside. I slowly approach it, drawing back its curtain, and for the first time discover a new view of the outside world. There’s a house and a road and a dog that I have never seen before, but were there all along—simply out of view from my previous all-I’ve-ever-known window. My outside world just altered and with it brings both excitement and knee shaking disequilibrium. Reality as I knew it changed. The old man smiles at the gift he has given me.

He takes my hand and leads me to another room, and another, and another…each a bit different and each with a new window exposing a distinctive and unique view of the great outdoors. After the first few rooms, I begin to settle into the fact that the outside world is much different and bigger than what I had previously known. I actually begin to anticipate that with each new room and window, the actual reality of the outside world will be fuller known to me. What I once feared—or never knew—now brings the excitement of discovery.

The old man sits me down in the living room and tells me that the house—his house—is mine to explore. All the rooms and windows are available to me, and much like Extreme Home Makeover, releases me to joyfully discover my new house. I run off doing just that! Each room and window is a gift of reality-discovery.

After some time, he finds me and takes my hand once more. I am tired. He takes me to a yet another door—a new door. As he turns the knob I am expecting to find another room with yet another window-view. He opens the door. Fresh air rushes in. The streaming sunlight is both blinding and spectacular; my skin reacts to its warmth. Glass no longer separates me from, or limits my view of, the great outdoors. He leads me outside to now finally experience the full reality of the great outdoors…not through windows, but in actual, absolute reality. The scents, the sounds, the breeze, the sun—they all explode with life! Once again, my reality shatters as his reality emerges.

He lets go of my hand and runs outside, stops and turns back towards me, “Come on, what are you waiting for!” he shouts. I snap out of my trance and run, skipping with laughter, into the great outdoors.

How do you react to this story? What does this story mean to you?

To me, this is my analogy of what my experience walking with different expressions of the Christian faith has been like.  To me, each expression offered new insight and discovery into God’s reality—that the sum of the Christian expressions were more truth-ful than one sole expression.  This is the beauty of the body of Christ and perhaps what Paul meant when he described Christ’s body-parts as eyes, noses, arms, hands, feet, etc. —each needing each other.  May we learn to embrace each expression rather than expel it.  ‘Cause one day, we’ll see God’s real reality in its fullness and find out that we, as finite humans, were all wrong to one degree or another.

Heck, in the end, I’ll be amazed if I got 7% of God’s truth correct!

There is a fictional story Jesus told which cuts deep into our heart by exposing his heart. He loved using the medium of story in order to reveal what his kingdom is really like and how much it differs from our ways of thinking. He begins by saying, “The Kingdom of God is like…

…a manager who goes out very early in the morning to hire some men to work his fields. He tells them he will pay them a day’s wage for their work. They agree. Around 9:00am the manager leaves them and goes back into the center of town (probably next to the Home Depot) and sees more men standing around unemployed. He told them to get to work and he would pay them fairly. He did the same thing at 12:00pm and 3:00pm. At 5:00, near the end of the work day, he found still more men standing around. He asked them, “Why have you been standing around all day doing nothing (loosely translated, “wasting you life away”)?”

They answered, “Because no one has hired us” (loosely translated, “we suck and nobody wants us”). He told them to go work in his field. An hour later when the day was over, he called his foreman to him and told him to pay the workers, starting from the last hired working down to the first.

Those hired at 5:00 were given a day’s wage for an hours work. When those hired first saw that, they assumed they would get paid far more. But they all got the same pay—each and every one of them. They grabbed their money and grumbled angrily (highly pissed) to the manager. Their appointed spokesperson said, “These workers worked for one measly hour and you have made them equal to us, who slaved all day long under the scorching sun.

(Now listen to Jesus’ response and really pay close attention to his words) “Friend, I haven’t been unfair. We agreed on a day’s wage, didn’t we? So take it and go. I decided to give the ones who came last the same as you. Can’t I do what I want with my own money? Are you going to get jealous because I am generous?

“Here it is again, The Great Reversal: many of the first ending up last, and the last first.”

So here’s the rub for me. I really, honestly think that we are going to be very surprised at the end of the age when Jesus begins paying the “others” with his grace. I really do.

And when we see the “others” being offered the same grace as us—the more “deserving”, for whatever reason, be it belief or works—we will first think he is going to give us so much more then them. But when he doesn’t, when he gives us the exact same measure of grace, we too will probably begin grumbling and complaining. “They don’t deserve it!!”

And he will still call us friend. And he will still extend his grace to us saying, “Take it and come.” And he too will lovingly chastise us, saying, “I decided to give the ‘others’ the same as you. Can’t I do what I want with MY love, grace, and forgiveness? Are you jealous because I am generous?”

What do we have to loose, honestly, if he turns out to be much more generous with his grace (or love, or forgiveness, or acceptance…what ever word you want to use) than we could have ever imagined?

Why do we get jealous and angry at the thought of a generous God?

Is it not his to do whatever he wants to with it?

He seems to think so, may also we.

The thing that I love about Jesus is that everywhere he went, he seemed to praise and bless those that the surrounding religious establishment (in his case, the different sects of Judaism) seemed to curse and damn; those they considered heathens; those they deemed outside of God’s grace and will; those that they relegated as “them” and not a part of “us”. Yet Jesus accepted them. Used them as examples to follow. Embraced their worship of him.

Here are a few stories to chew on:

Jesus told a story of a man got mugged and left in the street to die. For a variety of reason, a number of religious Jews ignored and avoided him––walking by and also leaving him for dead. But a heathen, a non-Jew, an outcast, a Samaritan, sees him, takes pity (he cared) and stops. He bandaged him. Anointed him. Placed him on his own donkey as he walked. Brought him to an Inn. Took care of him. Pays for his care. Leaves his contact info. And so on… Jesus then says, “Which one of these was a friend to this man?” (One might even interpret it as, “Which one of these brought God’s kingdom down from heaven to earth and into the life of this man?”). They answered, “Ugh, the one who had mercy on him” (a.k.a. the heathen). Jesus says, “Then go and be like him.”

A Roman military commander, whose much-loved servant was dying, summoned Jesus for healing. Jesus came and on the way was stopped by some more people sent from the commander, who said in a nutshell, “Our commander says he is not worthy to have you in his house. Just like when he tells us to do something and we do it, say the word and his servant will be healed.” Jesus was amazed by this heathen and turned to the crowd… “I have not seen such faith even in Israel.” The men returned to find the servant was healed.

Jesus was chillin’ with some of the religious people (he hung with them too) who invited him over for dinner. While he was reclining at the table, a woman, who was a “sinner”, crashed the party and took some terribly expensive perfume and anointed Jesus’s feet. Doing so, she began weeping. She took her hair and tears and wiped his feet. Cue upset host who thought some not-so-nice-things. Hearing his thoughts, Jesus tells him a story, asks a question and traps the man with his answer. Then he publicly embarrassed him for his lack of common courtesy in front of his guests. “You didn’t even give me water to clean my feet, but she washed them with her tears and hair. You didn’t even kiss me, but she hasn’t stopped kissing my feet since she crashed your party. You didn’t put oil my head, and she anointed my feet with perfume.”

We tend too look back at these stories with novelty and they loose their punch. But see, these are their stories, not ours. To the Jews, these stories stung and went against much of what they stood for. What if they were re-written to become our stories? What if they shined light onto some of our judgments, paradigms and “us vs. them” categorizations? How might these stories look if Jesus told them and lived them out today?

In other words, which heathens might Jesus praise today?

• A Muslim who helps another, who shows kindness and mercy?
• A Buddhist who beckons Jesus to heal her son and Jesus says that he has not seen such faith in all of Christianity?
• A flamin’ homosexual who anoints Jesus’ feet in the middle of a church potluck?

I love Jesus for these stories. But a part of me does not like him so much, because he reveals in my heart things I would rather remain hidden. So, I can either learn by placing myself into these stories, letting them change and convict me…my beliefs and my lifestyle. Or, when all is said and done and I face the music, I’ll realize I had a great adventure in dissecting the Bible, but missed the point.

So I raise my glass to you, tap it three times with a spoon and make a toast: “Let’s not miss the point!”

Silvia is a young women from Kenya Africa. In 1995 her husband died, leaving her alone with her three children. For the longest time she didn’t know why he died. Three months passed before she found out through the hospital that he died of AIDS. She fainted immediately, broke down and lost it. AIDS was the “sinners” disease, no Christian would ever get it, much less die from it. But now, her Christian husband is dead, and AIDS was his killer. He was gone. Just her and her three kids. Alone. She perceived that if he had it, she might have it too and went to get tested. Sure enough, she was HIV positive.

Silvia was going to a Catholic parish at the time. When she confided in the priest about her husband and how she was HIV positive also, the priest said she was no longer welcome in his parish and asked her to never return. Shunned, she went to another church, hoping to find acceptance, healing and hope. They shunned her as well. Unclean. An outcast. Surely a sinner condemned by God with this disease. Two strikes and Silvia was done. Knowing that she couldn’t turn to the church for hope, her only hope as an unwanted church-outcast was in God, and God alone. Even her friends and family shunned her because of this “sinners” disease. She had no hope but hope in God.

Silvia began to read and study more about AIDS. What caused it? How was it transmitted? What were some medicines that helped slow and control it? As she found answers, she began going to the slums in Nairobi Kenya (one in particular was called Mentumba, which means second-hand, so literally, the second-hand slum) where other outcasts banded together in community. With no support from others, and being driven by her hope in God, she began to talk with them. Befriend them. Feed them. Tell them what she was learning. Share the hope she had in God. And she found that as she did these things, they too found hope. She learned that they would die if they did not have hope. She saw that they too began to live, because of hope.

Meanwhile, in another church, a pastor by the name of Edward began asking people in the congregation if they knew anyone with AIDS. Someone happened to know Silvia and introduced her to Pastor Edward. She brought him to the slums to feel and experience life as a “sinful” AIDS outcast. AIDS support groups began to emerge, meeting once a week. Once a month these support groups, made up of about 40 women and 5 men, would meet together for worship and encouragement. More recently, the church opened up an AIDS clinic to provide counseling and HIV testing. In addition, people in the church were now being trained to become counselors for the clinic. Some of the women infected with AIDS said, “I have AIDS, but that doesn’t bother me––I don’t worry about that––because I have hope in God. I have people and a support group that loves me and encourages me.”

This story expresses well, why I hate and love the church.

Source: Emergent Village Podcast, Reflections from Amahoro Africa. Worth the listen.

I had a very disturbing dream last night. Not frightening, disturbing. Disturbing in the sense that the personal ramifications of the dream could be great.

I dreamt I went through each of the Gospels of Jesus and saw a common theme regarding good deeds and spiritual faith. The shift this created was paradigmatic. I then turned to one of my fiends and posed them the very question that disturbed me: “If one person has ALL, or a lot of, CHRISTIAN FAITH (i.e. correct Christian/Biblical doctrine, proper church involvement, etc.), but NO DEEDS (as defined by the Jesus and the Bible), and another person had NO, or little, CHRISTIAN FAITH but ALL DEEDS; which of these would be ushered into heaven, by Jesus? Which one, according to Jesus and the gospels? Which one, according to the current church theology adopted from the Reformation?” The look on his face was one of bewilderment. “Well, according to Jesus and the Gospels, the second person. According to us, the first.”

In other words, my friend was saying this:We believe a person can “come to faith” in Jesus, then never lift a finger to bring God’s goodness and grace to Earth and Jesus will usher them into heaven by the skin of their teeth (all be it without any heavenly treasure or jewels). But someone who has never “come to faith”, but devoted and sacrifices his life to bring God’s goodness and grace (after all, isn’t all goodness and grace is God’s?) to a hurting and unjust world will be condemned to Hell by Jesus. In essence, a person who identifies with the “name” of Jesus but does not follow the “way” (deeds, example, teachings) of Jesus is saved. A saved person can be a person who is ALL faith and NO deeds….or all TALK and no WALK. For, after all, it is by faith you are saved and not by works. But it is impossible for someone with ALL deeds and NO faith (as we define it) to be saved. The “prayer of faith” and proper belief is all that matters when it comes to entrance in heaven…so we believe. But Jesus seemed to teach and live differently.

But as you listen to Jesus and read the gospels looking for this theme, you see a completely different picture. In fact, the picture seems reversed. I am still in process with this issue and will be for some time, but a few unresolved questions popped to my mind as a result to this dream (after all, I just had the dream last night).

Have we, to a fault, idolized the “theology of faith” that was born out of the Reformation over the life and teachings of Jesus?

Do we interpret the life and teachings of Jesus through the words of Paul, John, Peter and the like, rather than interpreting Paul, John, and Peter through Jesus’s words and example?

Have we created a church culture based on “cheap grace” and/or election, where faith is all that matters?

Have we created a bar-code faith, where, come judgment, all humanity is put on a conveyer belt and God scans our brains looking for the “bar-code of faith”, those who have it are in, those who do not are out––regardless of their life lived?

Do we dismiss Jesus’ obvious teachings about obedience, deeds, and justice being paramount criteria for entrance into the Kingdom because they do not mesh with OUR theology?

Is the cost of discipleship too high or uncomfortable that we have created a system where “correct” faith and belief trump discipleship and justice?

I cannot get over this.A “faith” that does nothing literally DOES NOTHING.But a “non-faith” that does something literally DOES SOMETHING.So based on Jesus’ parables, teachings and the Gospels, which does Jesus seem to indicate God values more?

Revisit the Gospels with me and lets dialogue together…