CHURCH: The Glorious Mess pt 1

      “Glorious Mess and Productive Agitation”   (part 1 of 2)                                   

One of Forrest Gump’s famous lines is, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get!” You open the lid of a chocolate assortment and even though they all look the same on the outside, you can’t tell what you’re going to get until you bite into one.  There are times when you choose one of those pieces of chocolate and bite into it and are completely surprised by what you discover inside. I think Gump’s view on that box of chocolate is that people are like those chocolates.

 We have no idea what is inside until something difficult comes along and takes a bite out them which exposes what’s on the inside—often times much to our surprise.  People are different; they have different stories, different backgrounds and come with different operating systems that can make getting along difficult. We are flawed, quirky, and fearfully and wonderfully wired.  

 Face it, people are messy.

I posted a picture of a stamp I found in an art store to FaceBook that read, “Family is like fudge. It’s mostly sweet, but has some nuts.” I got a lot of “Amens,” double “Amens” and many interesting comments from those who know my family. Life may be like a box of chocolates, but family is more like one of those fruit cakes grandma used to make with a bunch of nuts and unidentified fruit pieces held together in a concrete-like concoction. Family is a messy business not just because it includes human beings, but also because of the closeness of relationships lends itself to the potential for hurts and wounds. The deepest wounds we experience seem to be from the people who are closest to us.  

Church becomes a new Family, yet as you draw closer in relationship with one another in your church, the greater the potential is for pain in those relationships. Why would anyone in their right mind invite more pain and suffering than we already go through every day? Hellerman says, “As church-going Americans, we have been socialized to believe that our individual fulfillment and our personal relationship with God are more important than any connection we might have with our fellow human beings, whether in the home or in the church. We have, in a most subtle and insidious way, been conformed to this world."  He says, “The New Testament picture of the church as family flies in the face of our individualistic cultural orientation.”[1]

J.I. Packer writes, “God uses chronic pain and weakness, along with other afflictions, as his chisel for sculpting our lives. Felt weakness deepens dependence on Christ for strength each day. The weaker we feel, the harder we lean [on Jesus]. And the harder we lean, the stronger we grow spiritually, even while our bodies waste away. To live with your ‘thorn’ uncomplainingly—that is, sweet, patient, and free in heart to love and help others, even though every day you feel weak—is true sanctification. It is true healing for the spirit. It is a supreme victory of grace.”

As we conclude with discipleship, I would be remiss if I failed to mention that authentic community is part of the multifaceted process by which God does His sanctifying work in us. Often we are so concerned about protecting ourselves that we run from the very thing that God is using to shape us in the image of His Son.[2]  Part of the work God intends to do in us comes through the productive agitation of the commitment to relationships in community life.  God calls you as an individual and puts you into His sacred collective as rough rocks are put into a rock tumbler that will turn us into precious stones and beautiful gems. Christianity is a “together” enterprise. God never intended any one of us to go it alone.     

The lyric to a Paul Simon songs goes like this, “I've built walls, a fortress deep and mighty that none may penetrate. I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain.  It's laughter and it's loving I disdain I am a rock, I am an island.

I have my books and my poetry to protect me. I am shielded in my armor, hiding in my room, safe within my womb.  I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island
And a rock can feel no pain And an island never cries.”[3]      

                       

The systemic problem in our modern Protestant Christianity is that we have created a church-going consumer that expects value and reward from membership. This people-pleasing, consumer-driven mentality goes against the high call of God that should be a life of faith worth dying for. This Western view of church membership is like our Western view on marriage; which is looked on as though we have entered into a pleasure contract. So it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone in this culture of brokenness that for many church-going people, their relationships with other church-goers is considered disposable, just as our spouses are in marriage. We say all kinds of words laced with sacred meaning at the altar for example, “In riches and poverty, in sickness and health until death do us part” …and yet, at the first significant difficulty many pull the parachute and bail out.

We are in a culture of disposable relationships, and this “me-first” attitude is part of our fickle “church-hopping” mindset. When things get hard or tough – or when people rub me the wrong way or when my issues get confronted and exposes something in me that I don’t want you to see, then it is more comfortable to run than stick it out.  Yet God desires that we work through the very thing that He intended to use in conforming me to the image of His Son. 

We were not created to stand alone as an island, apart from laughter, love, pain and tears. “An island never cries.”

[excerpt from my book Dead Reckoning: The Divine Invasion.  To be continued: in part 2 "Productive Agitation" 

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[1] Joseph H. Hellerman, When the Church Was a Family: Recapturing Jesus’ Vision for Authentic Christian Community. B&H Academic, Nashville, Tennessee, 2009 p. 7

[2] Rom 8:28-30

[3] Paul Simon, I Am a Rock, from Bridge Over Troubled Waters, 1970.

Art by Marshall Dahlin 

Mount Soché: The "holy hill" and the Zombie

As a tradition on the final day in the mission field the Water Wells for Africa team climbs a small mountain called Mount Soché that overlooks the city of Blantyre. 

Walking up the rugged hill we encountered ladies with parasols dressed in richly ornamented Africa attire. I didn’t understand why people would choose to dress-up for a day hike.

I soon discovered that most of those going up the hill were Christians who, with great enthusiasm, headed up to shady spots for prayer meetings, Bible studies, preaching to small congregations and sermon practice.  

We encountered groups of women lying over the rocks with Bibles open prostrates before the Lord—praying, wailing and beseeching him.

In one flat area under a large tree a pastor was preaching to a group of about 8-10 giving ‘em Jesus and HOLY SPIRIT FIRE.

The eight of us marched about halfway up the hill to a place where there was a big rock and began our prayer for the city.

As we began to pray I was distracted by the loud preaching of a guy we couldn’t see who was just over the hill and out of sight.

This was a holy mountain. I wanted to leave my group of quiet prayer warriors and go listen to the passionate guy “who was bringing it.”

At the end of our allotted time, four of us decided to quickly sprint to the top before rendezvousing at the bottom with the rest ofour team.

We found the perfect Facebook picture opportunity.

While taking pictures I saw a guy not too far away who is waving for me to come over. It turns out he wanted his picture taken also.

      I guess this guy didn’t know we were busy and only had a limited window of time.

Didn’t he know that this was Mount Soché, a holy hill full of busy people doing all kinds of important religious activity?

People walked up and down that hill all day long who had come to pray and study and worship and practice sermons.

Mount Soché was a hub of continuous religious activity.  

I took his picture and showed it to him. This delighted Alfred. He loved seeing his picture on the screen of my cell phone.

He understood a little English and I began to engage him in a conversation and asked some questions. He told me he lived there in a tiny cave. Accepting his invitation to see where, I peeked in between the large boulder and the smaller rocks he had stacked up at the entrance. There was only just enough room inside for him to crawl into and sleep.

This broke my heart.

I asked if he knew about Jesus. He said he was raised religious and knew about Jesus. In his poor English he told me that Jesus was a man who went up to live with God.

I told him, that like him, I also grew up religious and knew a lot about Jesus. I told him that although I knew all about Jesus I personally did not KNOW Jesus.

I asked if I could share my story about what I had come to discover.  

The other three members of our climb-to-the-top-of-the-hill team came over. I asked our translator to translate as I shared the gospel. I told him the part about sin and how God had to judge sin and made sure to tell him how scripture says that the penalty of sin was death. 

I asked him about two commands which he says he violated―like most of us. The conviction of the Holy Spirit was thick and he realized he was a sinner in need of God’s grace. In tears he repented and pleaded the blood of Christ―responding to the good news. Once dead like a Zombie, he was made alive and given the promises of eternal life. 

He stood to his feet and said that he had never had an encounter like that before with Azungu (white people) and felt a burden lifted from his shoulders. He said he felt free and delivered. 

Alfred was a homeless 22-year-old Muslim from Mozambique yet what spoke to me the most in that experience was the haunting thought that there are Alfreds who live right next door to all of us. 

Like many of those religious people who climbed Mount Soché that day, we are so consumed with religious activity that we fail to notice people God puts right in our path. We come and go to Bible studies, prayer meetings, church seminars, Christian concerts and walk by Alfreds every single day without paying much attention to them. 

We can either be busy doing church or we can be the church and engage the mission field to which God has called us. In Acts 1:8, Luke records the words of Jesus, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

You may not have to climb a mountain in Africa or go to the ends of the earth to meet someone in need of Christ―like Alfred. It could be the person living next door or the person in the cubical adjacent to you at work. 

  

God has spiritually equipped each believer and has put us in the appointed time and place for His purposes. We just need to look up, trust God and believe that He has filled you with His Spirit―that as agents of His divine invasion of grace―we would make Him know so that His name is exalted among the nations and His Glory extended.

For His name sake and for His glory you are supernaturally equipped, uniquely gifted and perfectly positioned for more than just a bunch of religious activity. He has not only called you to Himself and cut you out as an individual member of His club, but has cut you out and called you into His missionary enterprises as a sent one—shaped into the image of His Son Jesus who was also the sent one of God. 

"Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” John 20:21