two years

Two years have passed. 

 

I've written a bit about our journey through this blog and now we're at a two year mark since we walked away from all that we knew because it was no longer healthy (emotionally, spiritually, physically, financially) for us to stay in the CLB. 

 

Days like today, the wounds are still tender, some times they feel raw. 

 

But so much good has happened since we walked away.  Our rhythm of life is much healthier, our spirits are freer, our family is stronger.  I've had two really great jobs, making steadier, better money than I have ever before, with insurance!  God has supernaturally provided for us in ways I've never experienced in the last two years.

 

Our revelation of God's goodness and grace is stronger than I ever thought it could be.  I've watched as God has provided for every need and become an intimate partner with us. 

 

The friends that surround our lives now are real.  They have been tested and pulled through the ringer with us.  They have stood faithful to us as only true friends can.  We have definitely learned what friendship really is and we are more appreciative of our friends than ever before.

 

We've watched this seedling of a church begin.  Our little group has bonded and is working toward developing a community of faith that will make an impact on our community and walk alongside others on their faith walk and assist them as they seek out what it means to have faith in Jesus. 

 

Today is more bittersweet then, as I find myself between grieving the loss of friends or who I thought were friends, the old familiar places and faces, and finding thanksgiving for the future unrevealed in many ways but shrouded in promise of adventure and exploration into the heart of God.

 

I find myself returning to the scripture that gives our church its name, its focus, its purpose:  "You'll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew, rebuild the foundations from out of your past. You'll be known as those who can fix anything, restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate, make the community livable again."  Isaiah 58:12, The Message

 

Make it so, Lord, make it so.

legacy

Legacy. In the CLB (church left behind) we were taught that we had a spiritual heritage that we needed to honor it and that to leave or to disagree with that heritage would be equal to rebellion. They seemed to think that because they had taught us and that some of us had come to faith through that teaching, that we owed them this loyalty that covered a multitude of sins.

(Loyalty for loyalty sake is not true loyalty, but only bondage to another’s whims and desires. Loyalty should never be used against anyone or they have lost their free will to comply or not comply. God desires loyalty from us, but never strips our free will, nor does he reject us when we do walk away. See the prodigal son story to see how God treats those who stray from the fold.)

This past week I saw a real legacy and it was not one that demanded any kind of loyalty, but rejoiced in seeing where God had led those who had been imprinted by it so many years ago. Our family went on a little excursion to visit my birthplace and where I lived until I was 11. In a “God-moment,” we got to meet up with my first children’s pastor and senior pastor from the church where I first was saved and baptized.

Rev. Kenneth Frisbee will be 80 years old soon, and is still going strong. A pastor with the Free Will Baptist denomination, he’s pastored his church for 47 years. Sitting in his living room, having already walked through the church and reminisced the day before, I realized that it was his leadership of that church and the desire for everyone in it to know the Word of God that propelled me in the direction that I took in my faith walk. It wasn’t the apostle that tried to shape me into his image, but this humble, yet very strong man of God who taught me about Jesus at a young age that set my feet on this path.

To hear his delight in the fact that I was a pastor and planting a church of my own was so heart-warming. It was wonderful to hear his strong passion for souls and remember my baptism and first communion and my own passion to see others know God from a young age. What amazes me is that I know if I needed spiritual counsel or support at any moment I could call this man whose church I belonged to 25 years ago and there would be instant support and prayer and love.

This is true spiritual fathering, knowing that you may not complete the journey with someone, but feeding them and sharing life with them as they travel through their faith walk. This is what true legacy is about.

“I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants, nor the one who water is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. For we are God’s co-workers; you are God’s field, God’s building.” (I Corinthians 3:6-9 TNIV)

jesus bread

First, an apology, if anyone should feel the following post is sacrilegious, please forgive me and know it's not intended.

 

So here I was last week at our special evening event for renovate that we held as a teaser of things to come and give us opportunity to practice and flesh out who and what we'll be as a church community.   We had just finished cleaning up the sanctuary and putting things back and someone reminded me to put away communion. 

 

Quickly I take care of the elements, at least I thought I did.  I actually ended up carrying around the bread in a napkin and taking it with me out to the car.  (You know how you can be carrying something and not even realize you still have it in your hands?  Well, I do, because my mouth is usually in motion and not paying attention to what's in my hands.  Anyway…)

 

The next day I didn't use my car, so it wasn't until Monday when I left for work that I realized I still had "Jesus bread" in my car.  By now it had been exposed to the air for a while, in the heat, and it was stale, brittle, hard.

 

As I drove down the road, I began to think about the fact that I had "Jesus" in the car with me, but it was not impacting me.  I could drive all over town and not realize that Jesus was with me.  Though it was special and an intimate worship time Saturday, the experience of the communion from Saturday night had not remained.  Like stale bread.

 

How quickly do we let the bread of life become stale in us?  Do we live our lives without recognizing his presence with us, even in the car, at work, in the home?  May God grant us is refreshing, restoring, renovating spirit everyday, that we may not forget that from him comes all life and sustenance.  God, teach us how to practice honoring your presence everywhere we are and at all times.

wordle

found this thing called "wordle" on Emergent Village...
played around with it using some phrases of a post i wrote about renovate. i like it:

circles

The other day at work I looked out the window of one of the offices and saw two really big birds, I don't know if they were hawks or what but they were circling in the air.  They made large circles, and as they did, each cycle took them a little bit higher.  I've heard about birds doing this before as a way of gaining height, but had never really watched them.  They kept doing this until they were too high for me to see through my window. 

 

It made me think about how many times in life we feel like we're "going around in circles."  Maybe its in those times when we're frustrated watching the same scenery, that actually God is helping us to "catch the wind" that is actually taking us up to where the real currents of our lives are and propel us to the future.

 

Don't know, but it encouraged me and thought I'd pass it on.

reasons for writing

How fast a couple of months go by.  I can't believe it's been two months since I last blogged.  There have been some precipitating issues that have caused my retreat from writing, but it should not have stopped me.  It shocks me that I've been so lax in writing.  Yet, I'm not surprised as recently my writing has begun to be vulnerable and I'm scared at times to plunge the depths of my own vulnerability, especially on a public level.  And on top of that, recently my writing and love for blogging became a target of accusation and attack.  So the thought of stepping back out of the boat of safety and conformity is cause for a bit of trepidation. 

 

But writing is important to me.  Blogging has been a spiritual discipline for me.  It is a place where I have worked out some of my most frustrating or puzzling struggles with life and faith and church and such.  It's not an easy place as a pastor to put yourself on the line like that.  Especially coming from the old paradigm that the pastor/leader must portray themselves as having it all together, without doubt and fear.  (The reasoning is "who would follow someone who doesn't have it together?" But I find that I can trust better someone who knows they are not all together perfect rather than one who falsely believes their God's next chosen son.)

 

Even if no one ever reads what I write, it's important that I write.  That I pray through my issues in the spiritual practice of journal/blogging.  It's more about me than the others who will read along with my journey.  Not that I don't want to hear from those who walk/read my journey.  I do.  But it is more about the audience of One who hears and knows before keyboard is struck or word is thought.  I need His attention to these words.  I need to hear His voice in response.  I need to feel His hand on my shoulder as I wrestle through these things. 

 

So if you read these notes I make along the journey, welcome, drop me a line occasionally, especially if I drop off the radar as I have of late.  Tell me to keep at it.  We need traveling companions.  Thanks for reading.

some days

Sometimes I suck at all this relational stuff. 

 

As much as I want to be a people person, as much as I've always been one, some days I just strike out.  You know what I mean?  There are days when I've been the best friend that I can be to someone only to find that it's not enough or that it's too little too late, or that in spite of all my best intentions, I've not been able to meet a deep-seated need of friends who I care much about. 

 

And so I hurt.  And I probably pout, too, though I won't necessarily admit it.  (I try to teach my nine-year-old not to pout, you see.  So I shouldn't.  Right.) 

 

When I was in the CLB, the "apostle" once was talking about when people leave the church, and they simply said "people leave, you move on, you don't let it affect you."  I was taken back by those words, because to me, it devalues the relationship you had with that person.  And having watched them as people did leave them, I saw very little grieving on their part from lost friendships.  (To be fair, maybe they hid their pain.)  But most of the time, any pain was deflected to condemning those who had left their "fold"; any regret that was expressed was over the time that they had "poured into" that person.

 

Then when it was our time to leave, though I had requested no contact from them, there was a part of me that wondered, "Do they even miss us?"  And my sarcastic inner voice would reply, "yeah, probably all the hard work you gave them over all these years." 

 

Why do I bring this up?  Because when I'm having a hard relational day, week, month, there is a part of me that wants to say, "I'll just write them off.  I don't have to chase after them.  Let that person think what they will."  Somewhere I think I picked up some bad theology of friendship/relationship.  (I think I know where I got it…reading above again…)  BUT the love of God, the little voice of grace that lives in my heart, speaks to me and refuses to let me do this.  I can't shut people off, I can't turn away from them even internally, just because they don't believe in me or because I've failed somewhere and they have suffered the consequences of my life, or because it's just so hard to love them. 

 

Paul said this in 2 Corinthians 5:14:  "For Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died."  This gives me hope, because there is some thing that Paul is saying here that's hidden.  He's saying that it's Christ's love that compels him…not his own goodness or his own love or own kindness that he uses, but love that has been place in him by the presence of the Holy Spirit. 

 

So when I have these days where I suck at relationships, I can rely on the Holy Spirit to love them for me through me.  Christ have mercy.

present with the Lord

This week I was asked to do a funeral for a baby who died at six months in the womb.  The mom had to deliver the baby, so they decided to bury the child and honor his memory and the place he had in their hearts.  It was one of the hardest funerals to do.  Understandably, there were a lot of tears and sadness. 

 

But this was different than other tears at a funeral.  It wasn't tears of loss of the place this little person had in their lives (except of course the immediate family), but it was more of the loss of what could have been.  It was the loss of the future person that this child would have become.  Would he have been good at school or sports or mischievous?   What would he have become as an adult?  Where would he have gone to college and who would he have married?   

 

As the family grapples with the fact that this little one is not going to live out his life in their family, they also look toward a future where they will see him once again and spend eternity with him.  King David said, "He cannot come to me, but I will go to him." 

 

We have a promise in Christ that eternity will be a large place of fellowship and support and love.  "I go to prepare a place for you…in my father's house, there are many rooms…If I go away to prepare a place for you, will I not come back to take you to where I am?"

 

What does all that look like in reality?  I used to be taught in Bible College that everything could be known about what heaven and eternity will be like.  We "knew" practically all that would happen in the "end times."  But in recent months and years, I've become a little lax on the dogmatic-ness of those beliefs.  Good as I think the scholastic work they're based upon is, I think part of life and death is living in and with the mystery that "truth be told" we really don't know what it will be like "on the other side." 

 

Paul said that when we die we're "present with the Lord."  I think that's enough.  I think that's the point.  Whether our visions of heaven, or hell, or tribulation and rapture, are correct or not, the heart of the matter is what we do in our relationships here, will determine our relationships there.  Our heart connection with God here will survive even death. 

 

Paul also reminded us that the same power that raised Christ from the dead dwells in us.  Wow.  That's a lot of power, but yet we do not see it.  How come?  I don't have all the answers, in fact today I feel as though I have very few.  But knowing that the power of God dwells with his people makes it a little more bearable to face reality of life and death.  Just knowing that the end is not the end, but just the beginning of being "present with the Lord" whatever that may look like.

winning friends and influencing others

I remain convinced that what we win people with, we win them to.

 

I got this quote from Bob Hyatt's blog and it's not left my mind all day.

 

What do we win people with?  As we look at what the church is and can become, it's important that we look at this statement and weigh what it is that we win them with and to.

 

First of all, know that I don't think souls are to be pawns for a great cosmic game.  But that's not what Bob is referring to.  He was talking about how we present ourselves to the world, especially special days and events like Easter, and how we sometimes over compensate on these days and people who enter our communities believe that this is what it's like all the time.  Surprise!  But let me take it one step further than just programs and presentations…

 

So it's important that what we present to the world/community/friends around us is what we are willing to be all the time.  I think this is the benefit of true authentic community.  If you are a loud, friendly group, don't get serious and solemn when you invite new people to experience your worship.  Be yourself.  But on the same note, if you are more serious, contemplative worshippers, don't make yourself something you're not, just to get someone to notice you. 

 

It's important that people see us for what/who we really are.  It took me 13 years to discover some of the leaders I had placed trust in all those years were not who they had portrayed themselves to be.  It is easy to allow spirituality to cover your flaws and project them onto others so you don't have to change, especially in leadership.

 

The sad thing is that what we win people with, even our character deception, will be what people are won to.  They will take on those characteristics.  They will follow in our footsteps.  It is so very important that we look at how we live, how we worship, how relate.  Is this what we want to reproduce after ourselves?  The physical reality that we reproduce after our own kind is nothing compared to what we reproduce spiritually. 

 

Do I want disciples of me or of Christ?  Paul said to follow him…like he followed Christ.  He understood that people would follow him, so he kept their eyes on Christ and not himself.  Do I point others to the One I'm following?  I cannot, and refuse, to become the object of one's following.  But I desire to present those who would walk with me to the Master of us all. 

 

I can't take people where I'm not willing to go, that I know.  But that's also scary.  It takes willingness in me to go beyond my limits, my weaknesses and into God's grace and God's strength. 

 

God teach us how to have balance in leading and walking with, guiding and learning with, being the example and learning from.

ramblings and revelations

I've been thinking a lot lately about who I've become after leaving the CLB and the change in my vocation.  I think it's perpetuated as I'm beginning this new journey with our church plant, renovate.  I must admit there are days that I ask myself, why do I do this?  Why would I embark on this journey once again?  But then as a pastoral friend told me a few months ago, "if it's in you, it's in you."  And I know that church work is in me.  It's part of who I am. 

 

Some days it feels as if we've been gone from the past ministry for decades and others it feels like a couple of days.  Why?  Why must I continue to feel the pain of the loss of friends and ministry when I now am surrounded by these new experiences, friends and great new ministry opportunities?  Does it mean that the grieving process really isn't over yet or does it just mean I really haven't forgiven and released the people who hurt us so badly?  (Former Leader wrote a great post about the loss of friends…check it out to the right.)

 

The other day, Joanne and I talked about how "they" probably don't even care or think of us anymore, yet I find myself struggling with "them" more than once in a while.  I want to move on.  I have to let go of the past and move forward.  I definitely don't want the past to linger into the future, I don't want it to taint who I am and what I do, but what if this event in my life has imprinted me to the point of changing who I am?

 

Scratch that…it has changed who I am and what I believe.  I can't go back to the previous way of life, way of ministry, way of thinking.  Nor do I want to.  But some days, what was done or known before is more comfortable than taking on the unknown future.  But maybe that's the issue…compared to the unknown, foggy future, it's easier to look back and dwell, compare and wrestle, rather than step out of the boat onto stormy seas of opportunity and risk. 

 

Maybe this is why I hold onto the past wounds and worries rather than move tentatively at best, because it's comfortable.  Even abuse can become comfortable if it's something I know and expect.  So maybe this season is really about breaking the cycle.  Walking away from the past.  Letting it die.  Easter is the season of resurrection, maybe I've been dying a bit this year, dying to the past to give new life to the future. 

 

I remember something God showed me when we began to look at starting a new ministry:  the previous ministry was a seed that had to go into the ground and die to allow this one to come to new life and grow. 

 

The scripture he gave us for our new church seems to make even more sense in this light: "You'll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew, rebuild the foundations from out of your past. You'll be known as those who can fix anything, restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate, make the community livable again."  (Isaiah 58:12, The Message, italics mine)

 

God, give me grace to let my past die.