Without Walls

“We are built to live in the kingdom of God. It is our natural habitat.”—Dallas Willard

Today, going to church will be different.

There will be no walls.

And just as it has been the past two years right about this time, it will be where everything and a whole lot of everyones are unfamiliar, and yet where long-lost brothers and sisters will embrace and where total strangers will remain eternal companions.

Men and women and teenagers from one tribe of worshipers will sit next to men and women and teenagers from another tribe, from the same town, even—neighbors who have gone their separate ways...but not so today.
The songs may be new to some or familiar to everyone, but in either case, it will still all sound especially glorious; voices and instruments as one, resounding down the streets.
Kids will not only be squirming and fidgeting in their seats as usual, they may actually be seen running around ...and hardly anyone will care (except maybe mom and dad).
Climate control here is always from the Top down—no thermostats or AC switches to massage to try to make everyone happy, because mostly everyone is happy anyway, and are comfortable in whatever clothes they’ll be wearing.

There will be encouraging words of Life spoken by people we may not really know well if at all, and yet it all feels right, trustworthy, perfectly safe, and mysteriously powerful...because the Source of those words of Life is still the same.

Coffee? Here, it’s been said that it's best to bring your own, as much as you want, and without fear of spilling.

And before everyone heads home again, those same neighbors who may have been strangers when they first arrived, but no more, are gladly uniting in supporting efforts to meet the community's needs.

They may even give a shout of praise about it, even though they'd never dare do such a thing on any other Sunday.

And look, over there. Those people don't seem to be paying attention...because they are praying with some of those neighbor/strangers, or even with a curious passerby.

All so seemingly unconventional, this church without walls, but oh so good.

Today, going to church will also be different because, given a choice, I’d rather keep to myself and the comfort of the familiar. Besides, I live here on this side of the mountain, and this gathering is over there on the other side, a couple of towns away in a place that I mostly pass through to get somewhere else. But it will be beautiful nonetheless, because today will be a reminder that the good news of the kingdom of God—some of the very first words Jesus ever spoke, and the priority request of the Lord's Prayer—is not meant to be lived in isolation, nor is it confined to place, or time, or methodology.

“…For the kingdom of God is among you because of My presence.”—Luke 17:21, Amplified

Today, I pray, will be a much-needed fresh snapshot of the now and the not yet, that while one day every tongue and tribe will be as one, the kingdom of God 2017 isn't just my church or your church or their church but intended to be experienced and shared and lived out with all others who bear the Name. A fragrant perfume of Hope…over the people and streets and towns we don’t really know, over our own dry and thirsty souls, and prayerfully clinging to us as we head back home and seek again to “be church” wherever we are, and whatever we come up against, this coming week. 

“God never stops working. He is building and bringing His kingdom with and/or without us. While we sleep, He is actively establishing and extending His rule. Even while we are reading this, God is working in us and all around us. His plan in inviting us to share in Jesus’ work was never to leave us on our own (Matthew 28:20). His desire is to give us the privilege of joining Him in the work.”

—Gary Best, “Naturally Supernatural”

When Waves Collide

Photo: ScottyCarterFineArt.com

"You are the world's seasoning, to make it tolerable. If you lose your flavor, what will happen to the world? And you yourselves will be thrown out and trampled underfoot as worthless. You are the world's light—a city on a hill, glowing in the night for all to see. Don't hide your light! Let it shine for all; let your good deeds glow for all to see, so that they will praise your heavenly Father."—Matthew 5:13-16, Living

Just about everyone warms to the upside-down Kingdom, be-attitude "blessed are..." opening verses of Matthew 5. Such comforting news and inspiration for living in this dark world. And then, like a movie with a surprise ending that leaves you puzzled as the credits roll by, along comes this above-mentioned exhortation to Jesus' first disciples about being salt and light in a world that, in many ways, doesn’t think like them or act like them, and increasingly turns against virtues of goodness and love that are at the heart of the Kingdom of God.

It’s easy to relegate images of salt shakers and little old men carrying candlesticks to a childhood Sunday School lesson, understand the larger point of it all, and move on. But once again, in times like these, we can see that the Gospel is cutting edge and entirely relevant, and that there's really nothing odd at all about this salt and light exhortation.

The tidal wave of worldwide negativity, spawned by the earthquake that is fallen humanity colliding with social media and everything-Internet, seems to be swallowing every bit of decency, respect, and human dignity in its sight. Consider, as a temperature of our day, this online headline: “The Most Hated People, Places, and Things In the NFL.”

Our senses may be awakened to it all by the recent horrific happenings in a Virginia college town, but among weapons of mass destruction, the human tongue overflowing with hate and anger from a broken heart may be the worst of the bunch. And it may be in its worst condition yet. Created to praise, in its fallen state, the tongue indeed is “a restless evil, full of deadly poison.”

How then shall we live? Yelling at and demanding that the darkness of society's tone of voice disappear does no good. And the options of hiding what we've got to share under the proverbial bushel basket, running away from it all, pretending the problem isn’t there, or leaving it up to someone else, are all off the table. Above all else, it's good (and humbling) to remember this: The tidal wave really isn't about people as much as it is about dark principalities, and for which...

We have been given good Kingdom "weapons" at our disposal

(2 Corinthians 10:4-5)...

• Truth, to see the world through God's eyes, and pray and respond accordingly
• Love, from knowing the One who is the perfect definition of the word
• Faith, that this is still My Father's World and He's got a plan, and especially...
• The unsurpassed, supernatural, all-things-are-possible power of personal and united prayer.

I was reminded/convicted of all of this, of a good and right way to respond to evil and hatred of every kind in the day-to-day, while coming across these words this week from the late Ray Stedman. These excerpts were penned in 2006 (here's the whole piece) but are as timeless as the Be-attitudes and the spiritual weapons of our warfare in times like these...

"What does the world use to try to solve the problems it recognizes in society?...Coercion, manipulation, pressure groups, compromises, or demonstrations that ultimately result in raised voices, clenched fists, and outbreak of conflicts. But the universal testimony of history is that these do not work. We have other weapons. They are mighty, they are powerful, and they accomplish something."

It starts with one. And along with others, we can heed Jesus' words by countering the tidal wave of negativity with a slowly-building and ultimately more powerful one—a wave that celebrates the far-surpassing acts of goodness and Light in our world, that salts the disease with words from tongues that go out of their way to see and speak goodness in others, that respects others whose opinions are different from ours, that doesn't get sucked into an online yelling match*, that decries every form of evil and hatred simply because Jesus' most prominent command is "Love one another," and that chooses to cut off gossip with the fruit of lips that give thanks instead of criticism.

Lord, release the good "weapons" within us this week, and may they be contagious... loosen our tongues, hands, and feet with Your goodness attached, let the waves of Light and dark collide through us willingly, and in the words of Francis Chan:  

“God, interrupt whatever we are doing so that we can join You in what You're doing.”

[UPDATED FROM JULY 26, 2015]
* Thanks to fellow New England worshiper Joshua Ray for allowing the share

Jumping In to the Dawn Chorus

“'Let not your heart be troubled,' His tender word I hear, and resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears; Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see; His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me...”—gospel hymn, 'His Eye Is On the Sparrow,' Civilla D. Martin

This good Journey is about a lot of things, but it is always filled with truth. One is this: It's perfectly OK to acknowledge the fact that no Christ-one is immune to everyday-anxieties. Life happens. What matters is that they not become a place where we camp out. 

Jesus totally gets this daily wrestling match. He even used the somewhat surprising example of tiny birds—instead of bold and brave creatures like lions and tigers and bears—to encourage His first followers with something timeless about (not) being anxious.

Birds, as it turns out, are underrated. There they are right in the Gospels, and there they are today testing the wisdom of environmental scientists by singing up a storm just about every early morning for about three hours, from spring until migration season—what has been called the “dawn chorus.” There are numerous theories and exhaustive studies out there as to why birds might be doing what they do, but one thing just about every expert agrees on is that sparrows and their feathered friends are communicating all sorts of things—each species with its own voice and melody, and even coloration of melody, so that each is unique and distinctly heard by others in the forest.

And, perhaps by God as well, and not just in theory...

“He sends forth springs into the valleys; their waters run among the mountains. Beside them the birds of the heavens have their nests; they sing among the branches….O Lord, how many and varied are Your works! In wisdom You have made them all; The earth is full of Your riches and Your creatures….They all wait for You to give them their food in its appointed season. You give it to them, they gather it up; You open Your hand, they are filled and satisfied with good things.”

—Psalm 104:10-12; 24; 27-28 Amplified Classic

Lions, tigers, and bears are bold and cool, but the "who, me?" sparrows and other singing birds seem to have down the importance of regularly communicating some simple things to their Creator. Things that can prove helpful in responding to any and all anxious moments that may come our way: That it's always a good idea to start the day by jumping in to a "dawn chorus"... 

• Simple gratitude for life and breath, expressed as a daily declaration of dependence
• Celebrate the promise of a new day, hope rising anew with the sunrise (even if it's cloudy)
• Be thankful for a clean slate, no matter what yesterday was like, and new opportunities awaiting
• Rejoice in the fact that darkness is always sent fleeing by glorious Light
• Remember anew that the faithfulness of God's presence has been, is still, and will always be very much all around in the routine of the day ahead.

It's good to know that this isn't all just about a bunch of singing sparrows, blue jays, cardinals and chickadees. His eye is fixed on each one of us, too, as we "sing," each with our own distinct voice and melody that the One who fearfully and wonderfully created us loves to hear. Even better to know is that when He answers, it's always in (His) perfect timing, even if sometimes with a melody of goodness that we weren’t expecting, and always, always accompanied by a heavenly chorus of those who've gone before:

"Keep going!"

"Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus."

—Philippians 4:6-7, New Living Translation

Making the Most of the Gray

Faith is like radar that sees through the fog — the reality of things at a distance that the human eye cannot see.—Corrie Ten Boom

It’s all there in black and white. And supernatural red.

Except when it’s not.

Sometimes, the answer to life’s daily questions is gray. Very gray. Not as in gray areas, where it’s left up to one’s own interpretation to determine what the Word of God means to you, but just…silent in revealing details on how to decide, how to move, what to do next.

Though we may wish it were so at times, the Bible is not some ultimate vending machine where you’re guaranteed an “answer” prize every time you insert a quarter. Many times, yes, but sometimes, you get your change back instead. Not because it’s “out of order” but because the prize that awaits is probably worth a whole lot more than you think.

While it’s black-and-white true that the Bible says in one place that God “himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else,” and in another, it says “all scripture is God-breathed and profitable” for a whole bunch of things in this life, the Bible also celebrates gray:

By faith Abraham heard God’s call to travel to a place he would one day receive as an inheritance; and he obeyed, not knowing where God’s call would take him.

We walk by faith built on unfailing promises in black and white, and red. Or, as one version puts it bluntly:

The path we walk is charted by faith,

not by what we see with our eyes.

On many days, this walk of ours can be like strolling along the seashore on a beautiful summer afternoon, the vastness of God’s “all things are possible” magnificence roaring and swirling around your feet, with clear markers and destinations ahead, blue skies all around, and feeling an unexplained resolve within to joyfully push against the winds of resistance whistling around your face.

But on just as many days, in fact perhaps the majority, it’s a walk in the fog, with nothing but shades of gray on the horizon. You know that vast “all things are possible" magnificence is roaring and swirling out there somewhere—surely, you can hear it anyway—but that is all. And there is a strange sort of comfort in that as you move forward, putting one foot in front of the other. All of a sudden, you begin to better understand the Psalmist’s declaration: Your Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path…one step at a time rather than lighting up the entire course to the finish line, where the “aHA!” lightbulb may never go off but you know that you know God’s right with you, stride for stride.

"Trust Me. I will never leave you or forsake you..."

Yesterday was like that here on the coast of Maine. Instead of speaking discouragement and worry, the moist, gray blanket was one of peacefulness and calm. You couldn’t see very far in front of you, but there was a confidence and reassurance of wherever you were walking into the glorious unknown, no matter what the circumstances and surroundings tried to dictate, you felt you were never alone. 

Maybe a foggy summer Saturday is a snapshot of what it looks like to live in true repentance—not just to die to your old way of living but to change your way of thinking on things uncertain, unresolved, or unfinished, too. 

Because when you really stop to look and take it all in, while admitting you’d prefer having life served up in neat and tidy packages of plain-as-day black and white, you can see tons of beauty in the gray of faith. No matter in which direction you turn, there is the perfect, jaw-dropping color combination to support the weighty gray: the green of hope, of life, of growth, of abundance and fruitfulness.

And if that weren’t enough, sailing peacefully upstream against the tide, two (because it says in black and white, "two are better than one") paddleboarders ride happily into the thickness of fog before them, standing on the promises that seem to be shouting out into the stillness of the marshland precisely why you can make the most of every gray day ahead:

God is not a man, so He does not lie.

    He is not human, so He does not change His mind.

Has He ever spoken and failed to act?

    Has He ever promised and not carried it through?

"Trust Me. I will never leave you or forsake you..."