Note: This is a bit lengthy of a post, but if you click “read the rest of this entry” and scroll to the bottom, there is an audio version of it that you can listen to. ;)
Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.
Romans 12:1 and 2
It’s all well and good to be transformed, no longer conformed to the pattern of this world, but how does this transformation of the mind happen? How do we get from here to there? I mean, I want to be at that place where I can test and approve what God’s will is. The good, pleasing, and perfect will that is talked about here in Romans. It’d be really useful in daily life to know exactly what is required of me by God.
What job should I take?
Should I marry her?
Should I start my own business?
Should I….
The big life questions. Oh, if I had God’s knowledge about what will be if I take a certain road…. then it would be easy. No, it won’t. Let me give you an example.
I heard an interesting quote today from my dad. He said “Christians need community. You put them all in a community together and they rub the hard edges off each other. It’s a refining process.” I took a few moments to digest that statement and realized how true it is. If we are honest with ourselves we are pretty screwed up. All of us without exception need work and need a little refining if not a complete heart rebuild. If you look at the disciples, they were a rough bunch of characters. It took Jesus Christ three years of ministry with them and they still needed refinement and community to make them the men of God who were all eventually martyred for their faith in Christ (even John, though he survived it and died of old age eventually).
So is the church a huge rock tumbler for Christians? We polish off the hard edges and reveal the gems underneath.
Oh how we resist that rubbing against each other though. Learning to live with each other is hard work. I can understand why many churches resist any kind of outreach. They have approached that perfect synergy of not enough people to make it crowded enough that they have to touch anyone else. They sit scattered throughout the sanctuary on a Sunday morning. Reserved seats to avoid any kind of traffic jam upon leaving and far enough back that they don’t feel like the pastor is speaking to them too personally.
Then there is the other side. The perfect oiled machine with jewel movements to prevent any undue friction. It will be a politically correct sermon without really any kind of reference to sin but will focus on how God loves us just as we are. We can scale this they say. We can grow, make satellite churches, and take the message global. Make easily digested meals and serve it up to the masses. We will have our five year goals (regardless of the verse that says tomorrow has enough worries of it’s own), a perfect game plan for ministry that is a clean room dissection of the messy coagulation we find ourselves in every week when we meet together and real flesh and blood people have to touch other flesh and blood people.
I think I have figured out that this church thing isn’t about being nice. It’s not about getting in and out unscathed. We are humans after all. We hurt. We cry. We ooze emotion and puss and blood when things don’t go right. We get diseases of mind, spirit and body. It’s about being close enough to feed the hungry. It’s about being near enough to dry a tear and be a shoulder to cry on. A community that comes into the sanctuary and huddles together to keep each other warm and safe while they devise a plan to bring in more hungry, naked and diseased children out of the wind, rain and dangers that circle to devour the unsuspecting. A city of refuge. A training center for those who would risk everything for those who without knowing that there is a hope for life would choose death.
When you get close to people and you learn to love them, you hold them accountable for their actions. Not because it’s right, but because you do love them. This accountability is hard sometimes. Hard edges don’t get rubbed off overnight. It’s a process of being together and going through the pain of having those edges rubbed off gradually. Every jagged edged rock in this tumbler is valuable though. You are valuable. The marks we make on each other in love are a part of the process. Who have you made a mark on this week? Who have you held accountable? Who have you allowed in your life to hold you accountable?
The last cry of a drowning man sinking beneath the waves is always “help!” In vain he reaches for the air hoping that something will yet capture him and pull him to the surface.
My arms are weary. I can no longer keep myself afloat. My head sinks below the surface…
I feel like I am reaching now as if I could physically catch the air in my hand and pull it down with me. I know I am drowning. I know I am seeking, asking God, trying to ask people I think would be able to help. Two cars broken down, a baby on the way, and a job that barely pays the rent because hours were recently cut.
Reaching…
Maybe it’s the lie of our own vantage point that tells us that it’s pointless. Others are in the same predicament. Everyone is struggling. There is no lifeboat. Bailouts don’t work for us, because apparently we are not an essential part of society. Meanwhile we watch as the toy boats of the rich and famous get rescued from the churning of the waves against the financial rocks of our current situation. I struggle with verses in scripture that tell me not to worry, to set my mind on things above, that God is the provider of all our needs, that all things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose, and the words inspire hope. Burning hope.
My lungs are burning now….
We can’t make it much longer. Creditors are calling parents, and we’ve blocked every unknown caller that calls, because it’s hard to push forward when they are grabbing at your heels. We have a budget, but it was written last week for hours at work that no longer exist. Rewriting it is not an option because we are scraping at the bones now. This ship is going down. We already threw over the rest of the stores. I am looking for odd jobs, putting in more applications, watching the job boards like a starved animal for something… anything, ready to pounce. All the while a whisper stirs at the back of my brain that this is not what it’s supposed to be like.
My eyes go dark. The bubbles go up like smoke from incense where they gently plop against the surface of the water. Even as the last thought goes my head, it is “There is still time. Save me.”
I gurgle out the hope of my last prayer. “help…”
Over the last few weeks, I’ve been battling some of those hard questions about where God is leading me right now. I know where I am most passionate, and what I am called to do. Seeing what that means for us financially may be the issue that I am left dealing with.
Here’s the hardest thing that I’ve been working through lately.
How can I as a (soon to be) parent, say to my child “Do what God had called you to do.” when I am not currently doing that myself? I don’t think I can in any kind of honest way, communicate that more effectively than through my actions.
So, for me… it means hunting that out. Taking God at His word when He says. “Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.” in Deuteronomy 6:5
This is more than just something internal that we must recognize, it is a commissioning of purpose.
So, when I begin asking the questions “where is the money coming from to pay the water bill this month?” it’s not being unfaithful, it’s just a question of ‘am I being the best steward?’ or ‘am I where God wants me?’ and ‘how can I get there?’