I grew up in a Christian church where my Dad was the pastor. Our church, much like all of the other churches scattered across the USA, had a very strong emphasis on ministry to the youth. And whether it was a ropes course, a Velcro wall, water balloon fights, shaving cream fights, pizza night, a friendly 2 on 2 basketball tournament, or a car wash fundraiser, we were always guaranteed to have fun. These types of activities took up about 50% of the time our youth group spent together. The other 50% was made up of some kind of effort to go deeper in our Christian faith.
One way we attempted this was on Sunday mornings at church, where each week we were taught the 5 steps being a perfect Christian. Of course, each week these lessons took on a slightly new twist. The 5 steps to… not having sex before marriage… having your quiet time every day… obeying your Mother and Father… “witnessing” to your friends at school… and so on. You name it; there was a 5 step lesson for it.
Another way we tried a go deeper was by doing outreaches. I don’t remember doing very much outreach locally. We were always travelling to foreign countries to “witness”, sing, and dance in the streets. And if you aren’t familiar with this form of outreach just ask my wife, Reona, to show you her hamster dance sometime… what were we thinking?! I often wondered why these outreaches almost always took place away from our home in Atlanta. Maybe it was because the reality of the silliness of what we were doing was too close to home for us. It occurs to me that we spent a lot of time on these outreaches inside and away from people. Don’t get me wrong, about 2 hours a day we spent in the streets singing, dancing, preaching, handing out tracts, and drawing pictures of how to become a Christian for the people who would just never understand without a diagram to help it all make sense. We would then spend the rest of our outreach days behind closed doors perfecting these outreach techniques by studying the bible, praying, worshipping God through music, and eating meals together with our outreach team.
Even in our attempt to “reach out” we somehow managed to stay focussed on self. Our outreaches, even when we weren’t cooped up inside with our face in a bible, were all about bringing more people into our Christian bubble, rather than actually reaching out to meet needs. It seems I was being taught that my faith was made stronger by having more people to back up my belief system. As a teenager, I was convinced that it was more important to persuade someone to believe what I believe, than it was to meet the needs of the poor, the homeless, the orphans, the widows, and the elderly. This is a tragedy, because it could not be further from the truth.
Over the last few years I have read some amazing books by authors who are shedding some light on some of these issues. Donald Miller, Erwin McManus, Rob Bell, and Rick McKinley are all men who have some fantastic insight into what the bible teaches about meeting the needs of the people around me. Yet sadly, and it’s hard to face the fact and admit, I haven’t fully grasped this concept of meeting the needs of those around me. If I did, then I would be doing something about it. I would be living it. But I’m not doing much of anything about it!
I mentioned before that the churches I grew up around in the USA had a strong emphasis on youth ministry. And now I have been living in the UK for over a year, and I can see that things aren’t much different here either. It’s all about young people. And although youth work is a noble cause and should continue, it occurs to me that there is a whole group of people who have, for the most part, been forgotten by the Christian church. The elderly. Many from this older generation are slowly losing their memories of a life once lived. Many of them are dying alone, and without purpose or meaning. They are simply fading away without even so much as a notice. And I am letting it happen. Shame on me.
I am realizing that must begin to make some changes. I cannot ignore the needs of the elderly any longer. I must begin to see this generation the way Christ sees them. They are lovable, and their story matters. I must love them and hear their story and let it impact me. I must help to breathe new life and bring hope, meaning, and purpose to their lives once again. And for those who are dying, I must help them to die well, with honour, dignity, and purpose. And the church needs to change. Helping young people get started on their journeys is important, but we cannot forget that it is just as important to help those who are at the end of their journeys to end well.
Monday, 24 August 2009
Monday, 27 April 2009
This Beautiful Mess
I’m 31 years old and I still contemplating the question, what am I supposed to do with my life? I still don’t have a clue what I want to be when I grow up. As a kid, my brothers and I were always making up games and pretending to be our favourite characters. Most of the time, we would pretend to be our favourite athlete or a character from our favourite TV program. MacGyver was my personal favourite, he was amazing! Who else could make a bomb out of Coke and Pop Rocks candy? At one point, I remember wanting to be a trash man when I grew up. I would fill a bucket with crumbled up paper and dump it on my bed over and over. I was a strange kid. If I wasn’t playing ‘trash man’ I was probably somewhere in the corner of the room playing by myself (no, not with myself, that was later!) and daydreaming about saving the world with my G.I. Joe and his trusty sidekick, Leo the lion. There is no doubt, that this was an awkward part of my life. As you can imagine, I didn’t always fit in.
Eventually, I grew out of that daydreaming phase and became a man… but not really. When I was 18 years old and fresh out of school, I got a really cushy job with a promising future at the Coca Cola Company at their headquarters in Atlanta. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hack sitting at a desk, in front of a computer, underneath the mind dulling glow of the florescent lighting. So, after a couple years I decided to quit this very secure employment to wait tables in a restaurant instead. Yes, I quit a job with this global giant so I could serve pizza to overly picky customers. I guess I figured this would give me more flexibility with my life, and more time to daydream about saving the world. One dream I had was to travel as a missionary to a remote village, somewhere in a foreign country that needed Jesus.
Then something happened that I didn’t expect. I was surprised to find that the people I worked with at the restaurant were broken people (like me) who needed Jesus (like me) just as much as the remote village in the foreign country. They didn’t need church membership, or a ‘Four Spiritual Laws’ tract, or the ‘six steps to becoming a Christian’ program. They just needed genuine friendship with someone who would show them Jesus rather than just tell them about Him. So I befriended this ragtag group of homosexuals and pagans (I was one of the few who worked at the restaurant who wasn’t gay and I didn’t follow their religion of paganism) without any strings attached. I decided that I just wanted to know them. We spent many hours in conversation over meals before and after our shifts discussing life, love, family, religion, politics, etc. I loved those guys. They were incredible people who showed me a lot about genuine love and friendship. In the end, they showed me a bit of Jesus.
I was never taught this type of Christianity in Sunday school, yet I continue to see Jesus in the ‘world’ around me, and it looks completely different than the Jesus I see within the walls of the church. Contrary to what I was taught, I am realising that the kingdom of God is not something I am supposed to build, or advance, or ‘take’ to the world around me. The kingdom of God is alive and well. It's happening whether or not I like it, and I need to jump in and be a part of it on a daily basis. It’s really quite simple.
It’s interesting that in my lifetime I have seen more of Jesus outside the walls of church than inside. It’s a strange paradox, and I suppose this is the root of why I struggle with religion; that I have seen more of Jesus in the dirty, broken, unwanted places of the world than I have in the clean, ‘polished’ church that seems to have it all together.
I was thinking the other day about my childhood and realised that not much has changed since those days of playing ‘rubbish collector’ and daydreaming about saving the world. I still want to be with the dirty, broken, and unwanted, and I still dream about saving the world. G.I. Joe and MacGyver were both pretty freakin’ awesome, but unfortunately I buried them along with the 80’s. The good news is that Jesus is alive and kicking, but He’s not where my Sunday school teacher told me He was. If we look for Jesus in the overlooked, that’s where we’ll find him. That’s also where we begin to make sense of this beautiful mess we call life.
“I was hungry and you fed me, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink, I was homeless and you gave me a room, I was shivering and you gave me clothes, I was sick and you stopped to visit, I was in prison and you came to me… I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.” (Jesus, Matthew 25:35-40, The Message)
Eventually, I grew out of that daydreaming phase and became a man… but not really. When I was 18 years old and fresh out of school, I got a really cushy job with a promising future at the Coca Cola Company at their headquarters in Atlanta. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hack sitting at a desk, in front of a computer, underneath the mind dulling glow of the florescent lighting. So, after a couple years I decided to quit this very secure employment to wait tables in a restaurant instead. Yes, I quit a job with this global giant so I could serve pizza to overly picky customers. I guess I figured this would give me more flexibility with my life, and more time to daydream about saving the world. One dream I had was to travel as a missionary to a remote village, somewhere in a foreign country that needed Jesus.
Then something happened that I didn’t expect. I was surprised to find that the people I worked with at the restaurant were broken people (like me) who needed Jesus (like me) just as much as the remote village in the foreign country. They didn’t need church membership, or a ‘Four Spiritual Laws’ tract, or the ‘six steps to becoming a Christian’ program. They just needed genuine friendship with someone who would show them Jesus rather than just tell them about Him. So I befriended this ragtag group of homosexuals and pagans (I was one of the few who worked at the restaurant who wasn’t gay and I didn’t follow their religion of paganism) without any strings attached. I decided that I just wanted to know them. We spent many hours in conversation over meals before and after our shifts discussing life, love, family, religion, politics, etc. I loved those guys. They were incredible people who showed me a lot about genuine love and friendship. In the end, they showed me a bit of Jesus.
I was never taught this type of Christianity in Sunday school, yet I continue to see Jesus in the ‘world’ around me, and it looks completely different than the Jesus I see within the walls of the church. Contrary to what I was taught, I am realising that the kingdom of God is not something I am supposed to build, or advance, or ‘take’ to the world around me. The kingdom of God is alive and well. It's happening whether or not I like it, and I need to jump in and be a part of it on a daily basis. It’s really quite simple.
It’s interesting that in my lifetime I have seen more of Jesus outside the walls of church than inside. It’s a strange paradox, and I suppose this is the root of why I struggle with religion; that I have seen more of Jesus in the dirty, broken, unwanted places of the world than I have in the clean, ‘polished’ church that seems to have it all together.
I was thinking the other day about my childhood and realised that not much has changed since those days of playing ‘rubbish collector’ and daydreaming about saving the world. I still want to be with the dirty, broken, and unwanted, and I still dream about saving the world. G.I. Joe and MacGyver were both pretty freakin’ awesome, but unfortunately I buried them along with the 80’s. The good news is that Jesus is alive and kicking, but He’s not where my Sunday school teacher told me He was. If we look for Jesus in the overlooked, that’s where we’ll find him. That’s also where we begin to make sense of this beautiful mess we call life.
“I was hungry and you fed me, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink, I was homeless and you gave me a room, I was shivering and you gave me clothes, I was sick and you stopped to visit, I was in prison and you came to me… I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.” (Jesus, Matthew 25:35-40, The Message)
Sunday, 12 April 2009
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Alien Invasion
The other day we were arriving at the place where we worship on Sundays (boringwells.org, if you're interested in checking it out). Zoe was excited because she knew where we were. She loves seeing her friends and singing. In here excitement she exclaimed, "I see friends!" We answered, "Yes, Zoe. You are going to see your friends." Then she shouted, "Daddy, I singing! I singing Jesus!"
This caught me off guard, because to be honest I haven't been very intentional in teaching her about why we go to church, or why we sing songs while we're there. The truth is, she figured it out on her own. She is smarter than I give her credit for, and she proved this to me that afternoon. In my haste, I started to ask her if she knew why we sang songs to Jesus, but then I stopped myself. I looked at Reona and we both sort of smirked because we were both thinking the same thing. How in the world do we even begin to answer that question for an almost 3 year old?
We sing a bunch of different songs with Zoe. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Wheels on the Bus, anything from CBeebie's (the local children's TV network), and of course the all but famous spiritual song Jesus Loves Me. She loves to sing and often makes up her own little songs. Just last week we were walking out the front door to leave and she broke into a little ditty, something like "The sun is pretty. The sun falling down. The moon is falling down. Uh-oh, the sun and moon is sad..." I don't remember the rest but it was very cute, and just listening in is enough to make my heart melt.
There is something to music, isn't there? Whether or not we are using words like salvation and glory, or names like Jesus and Lord, there is something happening when we sing or even just listen to music. Over the years I have been to see many sexual (urr... I think he means secular)bands live. Coldplay, U2, Death Cab for Cutie, and Jump Little Children to name a few of my favorites. I have found myself in the midst of God's presence at almost all of these concerts. I believe that whether we know it or not, all sorts of music can invite us to worship our Creator. Lyrically, my favorite artists sing about all sorts of ideas, people, places, stories, love, life, and of course the list could go on. In a word, it's creation. And what better way to focus on the Creator? Of course, this is not across the board. Some of the content does not lead us in that direction, but that doesn't negate the content that does lead us to focus on God and worship Him.
A few weeks back I was having dinner with a friend. We were having what I like to think was a deep and philosophical conversation about church and worship. He said something quite random and funny. He wondered about life on other planets. What if there were aliens from another planet and they were intelligent enough to come to our planet and observe humans in worship to our God. Would they not think it quite strange to observe modern day Christians all sitting in the same room, pointing in one direction, hands raised, eyes closed or knees bowed, singing songs? In other words, what is the point? If I take a step outside of my bubble of church, religion, or whatever things I was taught in Sunday School, and asked myself 'what is the point?', would I actually have an answer?
I could do with an Alien Invasion in my life right now. I could use some extra terrestrial life form making it's way into my space, my little bubble, to watch and observe me singing songs in corporate worship to my God. This would be for me a mirror of sorts. I dare say it wouldn't be a pretty sight, because this form of worship has become just another religious act for me. If you know me at all, you know that I struggle with religion. I don't want it, I don't need it. I need encounters with a living God! I want to know the one I worship. I want to learn what it means to find God in the day to day and worship Him along the way. God is in the stroll through the park with my wife and daughter, as I bask in the glory of the creation around me. God is in the conversation I had with a man and his son who I met at the playground behind our house, Mohamed and Rashid. God is in the 24 hour grocery store at 12am when it's the last place I want to be. And even though I met a young man at the check out, and in a brief moment he showed me a need, I walked away and ignored that need because I was tired and wanted to go home to my bed. I missed the living God that night. I missed a chance to experience Him in true worship. As Don Miller would say, I missed the chance to... "treat that young man as though he was lovable, listen to him, hear his wound, and take Jesus to that wound."
I'm not throwing corporate worship out altogether. As I said before, there is something about connecting with God through music. However, I am struggling with this concept and what it means for me as a worship leader, and I'm asking tough questions. I'm not sure I like some of the answers. But God is bigger than me, He's bigger than my questions, and He is even bigger than the answers. He is going to cut through all of the b.s. and reveal Himself to me as long as I keep seeking Him out. God help me because I don't have a clue, and bring on the alien invasion!
This caught me off guard, because to be honest I haven't been very intentional in teaching her about why we go to church, or why we sing songs while we're there. The truth is, she figured it out on her own. She is smarter than I give her credit for, and she proved this to me that afternoon. In my haste, I started to ask her if she knew why we sang songs to Jesus, but then I stopped myself. I looked at Reona and we both sort of smirked because we were both thinking the same thing. How in the world do we even begin to answer that question for an almost 3 year old?
We sing a bunch of different songs with Zoe. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Wheels on the Bus, anything from CBeebie's (the local children's TV network), and of course the all but famous spiritual song Jesus Loves Me. She loves to sing and often makes up her own little songs. Just last week we were walking out the front door to leave and she broke into a little ditty, something like "The sun is pretty. The sun falling down. The moon is falling down. Uh-oh, the sun and moon is sad..." I don't remember the rest but it was very cute, and just listening in is enough to make my heart melt.
There is something to music, isn't there? Whether or not we are using words like salvation and glory, or names like Jesus and Lord, there is something happening when we sing or even just listen to music. Over the years I have been to see many sexual (urr... I think he means secular)bands live. Coldplay, U2, Death Cab for Cutie, and Jump Little Children to name a few of my favorites. I have found myself in the midst of God's presence at almost all of these concerts. I believe that whether we know it or not, all sorts of music can invite us to worship our Creator. Lyrically, my favorite artists sing about all sorts of ideas, people, places, stories, love, life, and of course the list could go on. In a word, it's creation. And what better way to focus on the Creator? Of course, this is not across the board. Some of the content does not lead us in that direction, but that doesn't negate the content that does lead us to focus on God and worship Him.
A few weeks back I was having dinner with a friend. We were having what I like to think was a deep and philosophical conversation about church and worship. He said something quite random and funny. He wondered about life on other planets. What if there were aliens from another planet and they were intelligent enough to come to our planet and observe humans in worship to our God. Would they not think it quite strange to observe modern day Christians all sitting in the same room, pointing in one direction, hands raised, eyes closed or knees bowed, singing songs? In other words, what is the point? If I take a step outside of my bubble of church, religion, or whatever things I was taught in Sunday School, and asked myself 'what is the point?', would I actually have an answer?
I could do with an Alien Invasion in my life right now. I could use some extra terrestrial life form making it's way into my space, my little bubble, to watch and observe me singing songs in corporate worship to my God. This would be for me a mirror of sorts. I dare say it wouldn't be a pretty sight, because this form of worship has become just another religious act for me. If you know me at all, you know that I struggle with religion. I don't want it, I don't need it. I need encounters with a living God! I want to know the one I worship. I want to learn what it means to find God in the day to day and worship Him along the way. God is in the stroll through the park with my wife and daughter, as I bask in the glory of the creation around me. God is in the conversation I had with a man and his son who I met at the playground behind our house, Mohamed and Rashid. God is in the 24 hour grocery store at 12am when it's the last place I want to be. And even though I met a young man at the check out, and in a brief moment he showed me a need, I walked away and ignored that need because I was tired and wanted to go home to my bed. I missed the living God that night. I missed a chance to experience Him in true worship. As Don Miller would say, I missed the chance to... "treat that young man as though he was lovable, listen to him, hear his wound, and take Jesus to that wound."
I'm not throwing corporate worship out altogether. As I said before, there is something about connecting with God through music. However, I am struggling with this concept and what it means for me as a worship leader, and I'm asking tough questions. I'm not sure I like some of the answers. But God is bigger than me, He's bigger than my questions, and He is even bigger than the answers. He is going to cut through all of the b.s. and reveal Himself to me as long as I keep seeking Him out. God help me because I don't have a clue, and bring on the alien invasion!
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
In the beginning...
I am very aware that I don't know much about this underworld of blogging. I'm not a writer, just somebody who wishes he was. I tried starting a blog last summer when my wife and I moved to Northern Ireland. The idea was purely to keep family and friends informed of what was going on in our life here. Some of you may remember it. Long story short, I was offloading one day on my blog about the organisation that employed me at the time and was sharing some intimate details of things that were going on behind the scenes at work. The next day my boss, obviously Internet savvy, found his way to my blog. He wasn't happy about what he read. As a result I was called into an emergency meeting along with the board of director's and was asked to apologize and delete what I had said. I decided to stop posting after that. (This sounds scarier than it was. If you want to hear more about this whole story shoot me an email and I'll fill you in)
At the time I was 31 years old and that was the day I learned about the Internet. I am so completely naive when it comes to these things. It never once crossed my mind that what I was writing on my blog was available to the entire world! Hello?! As a result of my naivety, I've been fighting this whole blogging/facebooking phenomenon for quite some time. Not sure exactly why, but some would argue that it's my rebellious nature. If I'm honest, they are probably right.
So here I am. After some encouragement from my brothers in Atlanta I'm going to stop fighting. This is a monumental day for me, starting a blog AND joining facebook all at the same time. So the first big task is to name my blog page. Of course, I want to appear smart, clever and funny, while at the same time get people's attention. So what better name than Nomadic Heretic?
I grew up in an amazing, loving Christ-centered family. I absolutely love my family! My Dad was pastor of a great community church in Atlanta full of wonderful Christ-centered people who loved me very much and who I loved as well. They were my family! Despite all this, for some reason, from a very young age I remember having feelings that I didn't belong. These feelings have never seemed to go away. Years ago I helped pioneer a new church plant in Atlanta and was in a leadership capacity at that church for most of my time there. Even though I was very much an intricate part of that church body, I never felt like I fully belonged. Last week my wife and I were talking about our life together. We've been married for almost 7 years now. She is my best friend, really a God send. As we reflected on the past few years of life together we realised that we both felt like nomads. Nomads that happened to find each other. I've been reflecting on this thought throughout the week and I'm still not sure where I stand. But here's the thought that won't go away... maybe God made me this way. Maybe he made me this way because I don't belong here. I don't belong in this broken, mucked-up, crazy world of war, greed and poverty (to name a few). Some would call it hell on earth. Maybe God put me here to bring heaven to this hell and as such He won't ever let me settle.
I am signing up for a leadership course that our church here in Belfast is running called "Heretic". When I heard the name I was very intrigued. Here's the explanation: "Heretics were religious groups whose beliefs did not wholly conform with the medieval Church's doctrines. (Many centuries before St. Paul acknowledges that he is part of a movement that is literally called her-e-sin, Acts 24:14) While groups themselves ranged in beliefs, their commonality was their rejection and persecution by the Church. Many of the groups still thought of themselves as Christians despite the Church's rejection. Some felt that the Church had changed too much and that it, in fact, was heretical. In this way, heretics were both within and outside the Church. It is often hard to determine whose beliefs were truly heretical."
So, there you have it. I am the nomadic heretic.
At the time I was 31 years old and that was the day I learned about the Internet. I am so completely naive when it comes to these things. It never once crossed my mind that what I was writing on my blog was available to the entire world! Hello?! As a result of my naivety, I've been fighting this whole blogging/facebooking phenomenon for quite some time. Not sure exactly why, but some would argue that it's my rebellious nature. If I'm honest, they are probably right.
So here I am. After some encouragement from my brothers in Atlanta I'm going to stop fighting. This is a monumental day for me, starting a blog AND joining facebook all at the same time. So the first big task is to name my blog page. Of course, I want to appear smart, clever and funny, while at the same time get people's attention. So what better name than Nomadic Heretic?
I grew up in an amazing, loving Christ-centered family. I absolutely love my family! My Dad was pastor of a great community church in Atlanta full of wonderful Christ-centered people who loved me very much and who I loved as well. They were my family! Despite all this, for some reason, from a very young age I remember having feelings that I didn't belong. These feelings have never seemed to go away. Years ago I helped pioneer a new church plant in Atlanta and was in a leadership capacity at that church for most of my time there. Even though I was very much an intricate part of that church body, I never felt like I fully belonged. Last week my wife and I were talking about our life together. We've been married for almost 7 years now. She is my best friend, really a God send. As we reflected on the past few years of life together we realised that we both felt like nomads. Nomads that happened to find each other. I've been reflecting on this thought throughout the week and I'm still not sure where I stand. But here's the thought that won't go away... maybe God made me this way. Maybe he made me this way because I don't belong here. I don't belong in this broken, mucked-up, crazy world of war, greed and poverty (to name a few). Some would call it hell on earth. Maybe God put me here to bring heaven to this hell and as such He won't ever let me settle.
I am signing up for a leadership course that our church here in Belfast is running called "Heretic". When I heard the name I was very intrigued. Here's the explanation: "Heretics were religious groups whose beliefs did not wholly conform with the medieval Church's doctrines. (Many centuries before St. Paul acknowledges that he is part of a movement that is literally called her-e-sin, Acts 24:14) While groups themselves ranged in beliefs, their commonality was their rejection and persecution by the Church. Many of the groups still thought of themselves as Christians despite the Church's rejection. Some felt that the Church had changed too much and that it, in fact, was heretical. In this way, heretics were both within and outside the Church. It is often hard to determine whose beliefs were truly heretical."
So, there you have it. I am the nomadic heretic.
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