Category: Church life

The Power of an Unplanned Visit

So, I woke up late.  And Christy woke up late.  And Zach didn’t want to wake up at all.  Bless him, Josh was on the move.

Our mornings at this point call for getting the boys ready for school in time to take Christy to work, and then get back to put the boys in the taxi that takes them to school.  So, we get everyone to the car, but several minutes later than we would prefer, and as we back out of the driveway, we see the taxi pull up, about 10 minutes early,  in front of the house (instead of the side of the house, where we have a sidewalk to the street – this will be important momentarily).

As I swing the van around the front of the house, Christy opens the window and tells the driver, ‘We’re just taking me to work, and he’ll be back with the boys within 10 minutes, okay?” But even as she’s saying it, I can see the look of confusion and irritation clouding over taxi-driver’s face.  “You want to take the kids now?  You’re going to get to school too early” (and Christy’s going to get to work too late, I”m thinking).  Of course he does.  So, I swing the van in front of the taxi, and tell Josh to run in the house to get his and Zach’s backpacks.  I run up to the house with him, to unlock the door, and grab Zach’s pack from him to carry it to the car; as I hit the first step of grass (remember that sidewalk that the taxi didn’t pull up to?) WOW I’M FLYING/HORIZONTAL AND DOWN on my side in the snow and slush.  In the clothes I planned to wear to the office today.

Now I’m mad at the taxi driver.  I’m mad at unusually warm January weather melting this snow.  I’m mad.

Boys in the taxi, Christy back in the van, race her to work, almost 10 minutes late, then head back for home, trying to figure out what to wear today.

As I get out of the van in the driveway, one of our churchgoers pulls up and says, “Good morning! Have you got a few minutes?” Well no, I sure don’t, because I’m wet and irritated. “Sure, let’s go inside.”

And we proceed to have a great 45 minutes of getting to know each other better, some useful insights on a task I’m going to do later this week, and encouragement about what I do as a preacher.  By 9:00, the entire kerfuffle – yes, I said it: kerfuffle – that was 7:55-8:15 is gone.

Community is a blessing.  And God, the Author of Community, is good.

Shepherds and Angels

Today is the third day of Christmas.

And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
9 And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear.
(Luke 2:8-9 ESV)

I am a small-church kind of guy; not that I am against large churches, but rather that small expressions of Christian community are especially compelling to me: personal-sized groups of Christians strengthening each other, building each other up, sharing life together.  So, the verses above are the sort that catch my attention.  God comes to the world in a humble way, born human to a modest family, announced to a group of insignificant shepherds – all of it God breaking into the world in a small way.  That’s what I tend to notice most.

But then, I was reminded this morning of what comes next:

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,
14 “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” (Luke 2:13-14 ESV)

God breaks into the world in a small way, but also comes with a multitude of angels, a heavenly army singing his praises.  A large number, a massive chorus of praise.

God comes in a small way and in a large way at the same time.  Small expressions of praise and faith and joy, and massive ones, side by side.  It occurs to me that this is another way of seeing God’s immanence and transcendence: God is personally present with his people, and more vast than the entire physical world.  God is both small and big, a baby in a manger and a King who holds everything in his hand.  And our praise of him is appropriately expressed in ways small and personal and humble, and in ways as big and vast and grand as we can possibly muster.

Taken For a Ride

Earlier this evening, I took a prescription in to the pharmacy. After standing in line for an unusual amount of time, I started to pay attention to the customer in line in front of me. Specifically, I began to tune in to his non-stop monologue to the pharmacy technician, because I heard him mention “my pastor”, and something about it sounded familiar. It only took about 15 seconds to realize that this man had been in my office two weeks ago weaving a story about the hopelessness of his situation, and how he longed to get down to Southern Illinois where he aunt had offered him a place to live – if only he had the money for gas to get there. I won’t tell you the rest of his story, but I will tell you that I had fallen for it: I took him to the gas station and got him a gas card so that he could fill the tank on his way south. Now, here he was, telling the technician (whose face betrayed how tired she was of hearing the Neverending Story) how “his Pastor” had gotten him this gift card, and told him to buy what he needed to, but that above all he needed to get gas for his car, but he was going to get this prescription first, and he’d find another way to get gas for his car. When he finished his story, he turned around and ran right into me – and gave no evidence that he recognized me.
So, what have I been feeling? Irritated that I got taken. Even more so because I use the fund I have access to for emergency help situations, and it never has enough money to help all the people who come to us. I know that I am capable of being tricked, but I’d rather not think about it too much. Eventually, I got angry, because I felt like a fool. This guy’s act was so obviously contrived here in the store; why wasn’t it more obvious in my office? But where I finally ended up was sad. Here’s a guy who lives a lie: he’s clearly made a side job of duping churches and other people. I’m not sure what has to happen to a guy like that to actually see God for the generous giver he is.
Of course, the answer is: only grace.

Looking Beyond the Planet of the Apes

“Rise of the Planet of the Apes” was released for home video this week.   This isn’t a review of the film, but I was reminded of a statement from one review I read which resonated with me.  The reviewer was talking about the extraordinary quality of the visual effects for the film, and said that this film was the first he had seen in which the CGI became invisible – he wasn’t watching cartoon apes, or actors in ape suits; his eyes told him that he was seeing apes.  I have to agree that I thought the visuals were extraordinary, and didn’t make me think of the trickery, but only served the story.

As CGI has gotten better in recent years, and as it continues to get better, it allows storytellers to unhinge themselves from reality in the service of telling the story.  Impossible characters like the apes in “Rise of the Planet of the Apes” become possible.  A city can be folded on top of itself in “Inception”.  This has to be thrilling for the creative people who make films, and it opens up new vistas for those of us who watch them.  Now, if we can imagine it, we can see it in photorealistic images.

For many of us, entertainment is an escape from reality, and so the more thrilling and absorbing it is, the better.  We have a virtual world of entertainment available to us now, and it is enticing to sink deeper and deeper into it when our lives (and the world around us) are unappealing.

But as I thought about the CGI marvels of “…Planet of the Apes”, it made me consider howI believe Christians should function in the world.  I believe that we, too, are capable of presenting something more compelling, more thrilling and beautiful than the everyday that so many people are eager to escape.  If we are actually living the reality of the Kingdom, we should be able to show people a better life, one that in its own way is even more beautiful and extraordinary than anything we can dream up.  It’s not flashy, but it’s fully three dimensional.  Can you imagine it?

How Great is Our God?

How great is our God, sing with me
How great is our God, and all will see
How great, how great is our God 

from “How Great is Our God” by Chris Tomlin

As I listened to a grade-school aged girl with special needs sing those words tonight, I realized that they are perfectly true.

God is great.  His greatness is not seen in our greatness, or goodness, or adequacy.  His greatness is seen in that he loves us and makes us part of his family even though we are not great, or even particularly good, or adequate for much of what would seem to be the stuff of being in God’s family.  This is true of even the most impressive and important of human specimens.  Which means God’s expansive love is also the best possible hope for those of us who are clearly not the archetype; and, the farther away from the “perfect person” that God is still willing to reach to invite people into his family, then the more amazing is his grace.

So, as I was listening to this girl who is just a little bit off in the eyes of the world, I realized that her singing, and my singing, and our singing together (and understand that this gathering of disabled persons got a little bit chaotic, perhaps especially in our praise) in fact shows the world how great our God is: he’s so great, he accepts us.

And may the world look at me, and at my sons, and at countless others who aren’t easy to see, and may they see that God loves us, and that we love him, because he has shown us who he is, and promised never to leave us or forsake us, and we are living lives of endurance and victory even in our brokenness.  Because our God is great.

And if your God doesn’t quite have enough extra energy for the physically, mentally and emotionally broken, how great is he, anyway?  And how can you be sure that he’ll still be willing to be “your God” if everything falls apart?

The reality is that the greatness of God, in the human realm, is most evident and undeniable when the least of these are part of the party – whether they are the homeless, the poor, the smelly, the noisy, the unable to control their bladders and bowels, the crazy, or any other unpleasant label you might be able to slap on them.  And if your worship party, your congregational life, doesn’t have enough room for the lowest and the losers, how do you know your invitation to the party is permanent?