Do everything without complaining and arguing,so that no one can criticize you. Live clean, innocent lives as children of God, shining like bright lights in a world full of crooked and perverse people. – Philippians 2:14-15

Can I be honest for a second? I really hate this passage. Seriously. Every time I read it, I feel like an utter mess. It’s just ridiculous. It is regularly something that feels beyond my grasp. It feels like a few lines of impossibility. 

The truth is, complaining is like a second natural language to me. Like sarcasm, I find myself speaking it fluently. And I’m really gifted at complaining too! I can multitask my complaining. In a matter of just a few seconds, I can complain about drivers, and being hot, and racing to the next thing, and my kid kicking the seat in front of him and all from the comfort of my captain’s chair as I zip down the highway. 

I can complain about politicians (that’s easy) and I can complain about government waste or government words (sometimes they are the same thing). I can complain about being too busy and then complain about having nothing to watch on the hundreds of channels on my tv. I can complain that the church isn’t meeting, or that it is meeting but not doing what I want it to do, or that it’s people aren’t more holy or should be less whiny (like me of course). 

And to all of this, Paul’s words interrupt my desire for personal preference and constant bickering. “Do everything without complaining.” I wish Paul had added “unless you really need to” in order to decompress a bit. He didn’t. I wish he would have given me a chance to explain why I needed to post that complaint on Facebook though – I mean people need to hear that I’m upset about something. He didn’t do that either. 

Well, Paul lived in a different time. He would probably join in about the pandemic, or masks, or social distancing, or the government arguing and playing games…right? Seriously doubt it. 

The truth is, Paul’s world was just as messed up as ours. His church was a hot mess. He even had religious people try to kill him – several times. He had to deal with squabbles and infighting all around him. While we worry about online or in person, and the placement of a cross on an altar, Paul had to deal with new converts deciding if eating meat offered at pagan temples was allowable or if a little surgery was needed to ensure non-Jewish believers were truly saved. 

And the government was even more of a mess. Not only could they not agree, but in many cases, they were just as willing to maim and kill Paul as listen to him. He was a citizen, but that didn’t keep him from eventually being martyred. He watched friends crucified and others tortured. He traveled much of the known world and he endured sleepless nights, hunger pains, beatings, a shipwreck, and imprisonment. Paul had every right in the world to complain, but instead, he encourages to reject what comes so easy and so natural. 

But how? How did he do it? Paul was just like us – he wasn’t super-human and he was far from angelic. Part of the answer has to lie in the rest of this letter to the church at Philippi. In preacher world, Philippians 2 is a giant passage that is jammed full of theological treasures. I spent weeks in Greek, Theology, and Pauline Study classes exploring verses 5-11. The section is called the kenosis passage and it speaks of Jesus’ servant style leadership. 

Many people think that these verses were a part of a song, which makes sense if you think about it. What better way to grasp and own such a wild thought but to sing about it! What better way to respond to hardship, then to sing that Jesus endured it too and he did so with the attitude of a servant. Singing of the high name of Jesus when the crushing load of governmental control and corruption is bearing down on you, sounds like a pretty good idea.

Kenosis means emptying out – as I think about it when I’m complaining I’m not very empty. When I’m argumentative and combative, I’m pretty full – full of myself, full of words, full of response. I have no room to listen, to hear, to understand. I only have space for my preference and perspective. While “he took the very nature of a servant and humbled himself,” I often take the nature of the all-knowing, all-wise, and ever offended. 

I’m spending most mornings slowly reading through Thomas a Kempis’ book “The Imitation of Christ.” There are parts of the book that are tough to sludge my way through. He’s writing to monks that are struggling to be faithful, and some of his counsel is a little dated and strange. But there are other parts that are just as convicting today as they would have been 500 years ago. In speaking about building a deeper interior life, a Kempis challenges with the following words: 

“Christ was willing to be assaulted and despised, and yet you have the nerve to whine and to wail just because something untoward happened to you? Christ had accusers and detractor, and yet you want to have only friends and benefactors? How can your patience be crowned with prosperity if it’s never been crushed by adversity? How’ll you ever be a friend of Christ’s if you going to cry out every time you stub your toe.” 

The toe part stings. For Paul, and for a Kempis, the reason to “do everything without complaining” had everything to do with Jesus. It’s Jesus’ own life that is the example. He had every right as the Son of the Living God to complain about all kinds of things. But instead, he endured. Oh, he spoke truth into devastation – he confronted brokenness and sin, but even those words were filled with grace. I can’t say the same about mine. 

Our world is filled with words, noise, and complaints. What would happen, if the church of Jesus rejected the “right” to complain and argue and instead chose the Jesus-way? What if we chose to be 2nd instead of being heard? What if we rejected the right to always be right? What if, instead of making the noise of the victim, we chose to let humble innocent lives shine brighter than dark words? What if we endured instead of retaliated? 

“Do everything without complaining or arguing.” Every Thing. It’s a ridiculous thing to be told to do. And yet, I have a feeling, that if I chose to sing the song of Jesus more often – to remember how he chose to take on the world’s brokenness – then maybe I might see the world around me differently? Maybe, my joy would be more complete. Maybe when the crooked and perverse seem to prevail, the brightness of God’s glory could make an even bigger impact? 

Joy and I decided to stay in Kentucky this year for vacation. We had planned to head south and spend time on the Florida beaches that we love. COVID spikes invited other plans and to say we were disheartened is an understatement. I know plenty of people who have kept their vacations and are at the beach, but it was not something we felt we could do. I had no peace of heart or mind to go on that trip, but that didn’t mean we weren’t longing for some rest and respite. 

We took a short trip right here in the bluegrass. We did our best to maintain social distancing. We wore our masks and we hand sanitized often. We tried our hardest to do the right thing; while being fully aware of those who didn’t seem to have our caution. We drove a lot of miles and we saw a lot of the state and it was great. 

I stepped into my office this morning and the little plant that I have was pretty sad looking. It’s a “peace Lilly” and it’s poor leaves were super droopy. I gave it a good long drink and I found myself saying “there you go little friend, hope that refreshes you.” Yes, I was talking to my plant (I’m told they like that) but as I said the word “refresh” my heart skipped a beat. 

That’s what a vacation can offer – a moment of refresh. Sometimes I have to refresh my web browser or our home WiFi network. My iPhone occasionally needs a refresh and restart. When I wake up each morning, I’m either refreshed or still worn out. There is something about this idea of refreshing that seems to be universally needed. From technology to my need for a vacation, to my plant; refreshment is a common need and comes from a variety of sources. 

I was in need of a time of refreshing – a long drink to help revive droopy leaves. In this last year, I said goodbye to a beloved congregation and hello to a whole new one. I moved from one house to another. I met new friends. I started a new job and had to learn a whole new routine, structure, and setting. All this has been good, and I’m extremely thankful for where God has placed me, but it’s also stretched me and had me running at a different pace that I have had to adapt to. 

In addition to the regular change of job transition, we have also had this COVID thing. I remember when we went into quarantine hearing a friend say “this will be good, look it’ll give us all a chance to slow down and enjoy life again.” I liked the idea, but I also had a pretty cynical thought. Would this really help us be ok? I began to worry that at some point a forced timeout could suppress our bubbling stuff for so long. Sure the lack of pollution has been great for the environment, but what about the pollution in our hearts and minds? 

I spoke to a spiritual director once who told me that silence and solitude are two of the most important practices for a follower of Jesus. They invite us to get away from the constant noise and hear the quiet whisper of the Spirit. When I’m racing and attending to the constant noise around me, it is impossible for me to hear God’s prompts. With that much noise, I don’t deal with the places in me that God wants to bring healing to. I don’t allow the dark corners of my inner world to be confronted and confessed. I can fool myself into thinking all is well as long as I stay busy and sneak in a prayer or two here and there.

It takes a lot to be still and silent with God. I couldn’t handle it very well at the start. I needed a friend who encouraged me and supported me. I needed a friend to talk to when the sludge and brokenness of my soul felt like it was suffocating me. I remember feeling so much anger, and my friend said, it’s ok God is at work. I remember feeling lost in my thoughts and in the quiet – again, he said, it’s ok God is at work. I didn’t like what I was seeing or experiencing in my soul, and he said it’s ok God is at work in you. 

The last 4 months have been a season of quiet that many of us haven’t handled well. We were forced to get quiet and many of us didn’t like what we saw. Most of us didn’t have a friend who walked with us to guide and guard – and it’s shown. We didn’t have a sage who encouraged and reminded us that while we were seeing darkness, God could bring light. We didn’t have a reminder that God sees us very differently than how we see us. And as the frustration grew and the itch to get back to normal increased, all that was bubbling inside started to spew out. 

Another friend noted that during quarantine, road-rage was practically non-existent. The drivers who were on the road were courteous, used their turn signals, and let people merge. The highways felt more patient and honking as soon as the light turned green didn’t happen. Spend 20 minutes downtown or on a highway today and you’ll see that’s not true any longer. Our hurry to get to somewhere has increased dramatically – and consideration is only allowed as long as it doesn’t get in my way as I try to get where I’m going. 

Our rush isn’t strictly on the roads either. We are in a hurry to respond with our speech and typing as well;  and it’s not only speedy but shared with a razor’s edge. Critical words and demeaning blanket statements are easier than ever. And our fear of the unknown has ushered in a whole new anxiety response that blames anyone for anything. 

We’re a volcano, like ancient Vesuvius, spewing words and actions of lava all around us. Ash billows from our speech and the intense heat is slowly burning us alive. Civil dialogue and conversation are replaced with memes and quick snarky responses that cut like knives. And, like ancient Pompeii, if we’re not careful, I fear we may soon be buried by the devastation. 

I’d like to suggest an oasis of refreshment in the midst of our societal eruption. Most who either read or listen to this Life with Grace and Peace blog and podcast are followers of Jesus—Christians. I’m going to assume that we don’t agree on everything when it comes to the whole story of our faith. But can we agree that we, as followers of the one called the “prince of peace,” we can do better? Can we as disciples of the “wonderful counselor” find ways to bring some grace and peace back into our lives? 

It starts with quieting ourselves. It starts with seeing the sludge and volcanic mess that is churning in our own souls. It starts with confessing the dark self-centeredness within and remembering that Jesus came to serve and not be served. It starts remembering that while we were enemies, God showed us his immense love in sending Jesus to take on the consequences of our rebellion. It starts remembering that we’ve been healed from sin and hearing that God is at work in us and we can be whole. 

But for this to happen, it will take men and women of God who enter into a time of silence and solitude with the Spirit. And from there, it will take fellow disciples to encourage us – it’s ok, God is at work in you. It’s ok to confess that sludge and self-righteousness – it’s ok, to be wronged – it’s ok to be angry but do so and sin not (which includes our rage.) It’s ok to let our hurts and frustrations with the world be taken by Jesus – we weren’t meant to bear them anyway. 

And when we can get to this place – I have a feeling that we will sense the refresh of God upon our souls. Will all the yuck around us be gone? Probably not, but we might be able to handle that yuck better, and we might be more willing to share some grace and peace with others who are needing to refresh as well. 

I watered my pathetic droopy plant at 8:30 this morning. It’s not yet 11:30, and the stems are beginning to stand tall. The leaves don’t look as sad. It’s perking up and taking that refreshment it so desperately needed. In another hour or so, it’ll be fully restored. Our refreshment might take longer than a couple hours, but a little silence and solitude – a little reminder that God is at work even in the midst of your own stuff – and I bet we will find ourselves on the way to a restoration that we need. And, as we are restored, ever so slowly, don’t be surprised that your refreshment could also invite those around you to a time of refresh as well. 

Scripture: 2 Cor. 5:11-23

We’re coming out of Independence Day weekend. I spent the 4th with some dear friends – one of whom is a pyromaniac – and we celebrated the freedom of living in this country with a lot of fireworks. I am so thankful to live here and to call this country my temporary residence. I am proud of my family members who have fought and died to protect this freedom – and to gather here and worship openly. I am humbled and thankful for their sacrifice. 

I am also completely aware that not every American feels the way I do. I know there are those who hate this country and who feel betrayed by this country. I know that in many places of this land there is a brokenness that I do not understand. I know that that many feel that our country is pretty lost right now and that divisions seem to multiply by the day. I also know that our rhetoric and words are non-stop. I’m aware that there seems to be a fuse that is lit under us all and it is giving rise to a rage that is scary.

We have a lot of problems in front of us, but I’m not going to speak to the problems of this country, but what I do want to speak to is a problem in our pews. I know a pastor here in Kentucky who has a million YouTube views because he had a dream that an army came in and took away American freedoms – he claims it was God’s wrath and we had better learn to fear. I know a pastor who regularly, only what I can call, hate-filled words against politicians, words that he claims are judgments from God. 

I know church members who are more focused on their political party’s story than they are on the message of Jesus and who would rather quote their preferred news outlet than the words of scripture. I know people who claim to be followers of Jesus who trust a political figure hundreds of miles away more than they trust that the savior of the world lives within them. I know Christians so angry with other groups that I can’t help but think of the words “be angry and sin not” and wonder if it’s possible? 

America has been called the melting pot of the world – with hundreds of different cultures making their home here. A single culture or identity can’t happen here because we have so many cultures that pour into this land. There was a time, often called idyllic, that was much more uniform (at least to the majority). But it came at a price. In the 1940’s there was a common problem that united our nation beyond our many differences. During those days 2 common enemies – a depression and a world at war united us beyond our differences.

We no longer have a shared opponent but multiple ones and multiple expressions of those opponents. We each have a “thing” and when you are for my “thing” I am validated. If you are not for my “thing” then I am attacked or slighted. When I feel attacked or slighted, I need to shout louder or risk being further victimized. And our individual, personal opinions and focus create the ability to lose site of what could be good for the greater community. 

We want to be accepted for who we are, and we say I’ll accept you as you are, so long as You agree with me (which isn’t tolerance by the way.) Take for instance the BLM movement. Just saying Black Lives Matter may immediately divide, but friends, the lives of people who have felt oppressed or have been victims of ongoing blind injustice is a theological matter – a God-matter. To say a black person’s life matters is to agree that their life matters as much as mine and should have the same freedoms as I DO. And, yes, I agree rage-filled violence doesn’t help us get to that agreement, but not seeing oppression when it has been clearly put on display is anti-Christ.

And let me be equal in my criticism – those of us who are so willing to criticize and demonize our political leaders and opponents are equally in danger of giving your attention to an empire rather than Jesus. I see and hear a whole lot more fear and rage and moral destitution in many Christians instead of the example of Jesus and this is a problem. I see a lot of language directed at elected officials that is far from Christian – it is far from re-presenting the person of Jesus. 

In the middle part of the 1st century, Rome had a similar challenge. An emperor who thought he was a god, a nation living under fear, fighting within and fighting without, individuals reduced to objects and the sick, elderly, and children abandoned for personal security was what the roman empire was about. And in the middle of the mess, a small movement began to upset the establishment. 

A group of people came together and chose to submit themselves to a person who offered something different. Corinth was a hot mess when Paul wrote his letters to the church. Many were struggling with how politically involved they were to be – how much they were to be like their city. Others in the church were more willing to point out the many sins and how to avoid the city. And Paul says hold on a minute. He says to the church, we are tasked with the mighty work of reconciliation. “And God has given us the tasks of reconciling people to him. For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. And he gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation.” 

The word reconciliation means to re-establish a relationship of friendship. That’s what God did for us. Paul would say elsewhere, while we were enemies of God, Jesus reconciled us to the Father. We were enemies who were restored to friendship – not on our own merits but because God chose to do so. And being reconciled, we are to do the same with others. To the Roman world, this was utter nonsense – it is to many of us too. 

Paul says if we “seem crazy it is to bring glory to God. And if we are in our right minds it is for your benefit. Either way, Christ’s love controls us.” Reconciling broken relationships is hard, but we do it because we have been given a new life in the Love of Christ. “He died for everyone so that those who receive his new life will no longer live for themselves. Instead, they will live for Christ, who died and was raised for them.” 

Here’s the problem we face today. Many church people have forgotten that we have been given a new life. Not a polished up old life that has our old prejudices and fears still trying to maintain control, but a new life that is lived IN Jesus’ love. Paul said to the Corinthians, we are ambassadors of Jesus – spokespersons for the life and love of Jesus; not ambassadors for the emperor, or the army, or the economy, or whatever else. We are made friends with God and we are given a new life – “Anyone who belongs to Christ is a NEW person the old life is gone; a new life has begun.” 

We are not called to an individual response, but, as a people who claim to have experienced the love of Jesus, we are called to lives of restoring friendships. We are called not to social actions alone, we are called to respond to the work of Jesus on the cross that looks at the brokenness around us and says no more fear. 

In March, we were given the equivalent of a time out. All of us were sent home and told to chill. Schools and businesses were closed as fear gripped us. We tuned into daily updates and we were afraid. A lot of us thought this was time out was going to be a good thing for us – it doesn’t feel like that right now. Our anger and rage our quick and ready responses to things we don’t understand or fear is thick. We need to do better. 

Christian, we should not worry about the government taking our freedom – that has been every government’s plan since the beginning. You should be a threat, but not one of anger and violence, but of radical love and peace. We should be a voice for the hopeless, not a hopeless voice. We should be ambassadors of a love that takes down oppression and we should be trusting not a cause or a person or a flag but the One who is Lord of Lords. Let’s take another time out and sit down with someone we disagree with and let’s see them as Jesus saw us – enemies that have been reconciled as friends. 

I preached this past weekend on Isaiah 6 – Isaiah’s call story. It’s one of those passages that begs for an over-active imagination, like mine, to be let loose. The scriptures say, Isaiah was in the throne room of the Lord and he witnessed or experienced the holiness of God. Seeing what was surely beyond his capacity to fully grasp, Isaiah was undone. He fell on his face and cried out in despair. His sin and the sin of his people was as real to him as anything he had ever known. And this realization dropped him. 

In that spot, Isaiah is purified. An angel touches Isaiah with a coal from God’s altar and Isaiah is now no longer laid out, but up and fully present. When I read this part of the story, I’m amazed at the “instantaneous-ness” of it all (yes, I know instantaneous-ness is not a real word.) When Isaiah cries about his sin, we get the sense, that both his and his people’s brokenness, was something oppressive on his soul. The burden of his own junk was crushing in on him. But with one touch, the purifying offered to him is complete and it only takes a millisecond. “Snap” – it’s gone and he’s been imbibed with God’s very own holy. 

I was listing to James Bryan Smith’s podcast, Thoughts from Above, and he was talking about the “finality of the cross” and the resurrection life in a believer. He says that at the cross sin – your sin, my sin, ALL sin – was dealt with for all time. Its oppressive reign was annihilated for all time for everyone. It is now our responsibility to step into the channels of God’s grace to receive that pardon – to become reborn; to allow the sin to not just be covered but removed. 

Smith also said it’s not just about the finality of our sin, but also the reality of the resurrection. We are invited to live into this new life and to receive from the Holy Spirit all that we need to be holy as God is holy. We have it…already…living within us…sin no longer has to control and enslave us. Will we mess up? Shoot, I do all the time, but it still means I can “go on to completeness” or as Wesley said, “on to perfection.” 

As I listened to Smith, Isaiah’s experience came back to me. This guy was made pure in the presence of the Lord and the Lord called to him with a question – who will go for me? Isaiah was up off his face – hand raised – empowered and ready to tell the world about God’s goodness. He wanted people to know this holy God wasn’t the “smiter of men.” For Isaiah, God’s holiness wasn’t oppressive – it was far from legalism or rule-following. God’s holiness was purifying and good and life-giving. God’s holiness was life-changing in a way that lifted up and transforms and never pushed down. 

And I believe, it’s this new reality that Isaiah received that he was so quick to jump and offer to tell people about. It’s what compelled him to say “here I am. I will go.” There is a word for that –  a word for what Isaiah was swept up into, what it was that he couldn’t wait to share with the world. In Hebrew the word is kabod – it’s translated as heaviness or weighty. In the new testament, it is mostly the word doxa. We mostly use the word “glory” in our English translations for both these words.

The heaviness of God’s presence is God’s glory – the brightness, the honor, splendor that comes from the gravity of God’s presence. God’s glory is the beauty of who God is – it is the captivating and intoxicating essence of God’s being that floods creation with beauty, goodness, and truth. God’s glory is what brings Isaiah to this place of being wonderfully undone and restored and sent. It is the who or what of God that is so often unidentifiable and yet so real and personal and felt. 

The glory of God breathes life into everything. It’s the glory of God that brings grace – the unmerited favor of God in our lives. God graced Isaiah with God’s beauty and purity and it flowed from the glory – the heaviness of who God is. God’s grace does that with you and me too. God’s grace wooed us to Him. God’s grace opened our eyes to see our need for him. God’s grace allowed us to say yes to him. God’s grace allowed us to be forgiven. God’s grace powers into us the life of resurrection, and God’s grace gifts for the work ahead. And it’s God’s grace that is poured into us in the person of the Spirit – God’s very self as close as our breath (remember the word for Spirit is also the word for breath – how intimate and awesome is that?!?).

God’s grace does this because of the Glory that God is! God’s glory wipes away all that isn’t holy, pure, and loving. And it is God’s grace and beauty that also says “I will make a way for you to be who I created you to be.” 

No wonder the church responds to this God in “doxology.” In ancient words that reveal and speak to the glory of God. 

Praise God from whom all blessings flow;

Praise him, all creatures here below;

Praise him above, ye heavenly host:

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

As I’ve reflected on this today, I’ve realized that my soul, mind, and body are in deep need of the weight of God’s glory. Like many of you, I have felt the weight of a lot of things these last months and weeks. The weight of pandemic and the weight of change and the weight of injustice. The weight of speaking or not-speaking. The weight of loving well. The weight of demands and expectations. We all face these things and the “weight” you are facing is certainly different from mine – but it’s still there. And I’m longing for a different weight.

What I’m longing for is what Isaiah experienced. The weight of God’s brilliance, splendor, holiness…glory that undoes me and restores me and fills me with a joy-filled life response. I want to enact in my life the finality of the cross and receive the grace of the resurrection life every day. And I want to be so consumed with his Glory that I find myself breaking out in doxology often. 

And I want this because, like the people living in Isaiah’s time, we need to encounter the Glory of God again. I want the revealed glory of Christ to be so real in me that the world around me takes note. I want to know that glory because I believe it is the only way the weight of all that other stuff will be properly sorted out. 

So, I don’t know, maybe join me today and return to Isaiah 6 and let’s let our over-active imaginations run wild into the glory of God. Who knows, maybe we may find ourselves jumping up saying “here I am. Send me too.” 

It was in the year King Uzziah died that I saw the Lord. He was sitting on a lofty throne, and the train of his robe filled the Temple. 2 Attending him were mighty seraphim, each having six wings. With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. 3 They were calling out to each other,

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Heaven’s Armies! The whole earth is filled with his glory!”

4 Their voices shook the Temple to its foundations, and the entire building was filled with smoke.

5 Then I said, “It’s all over! I am doomed, for I am a sinful man. I have filthy lips, and I live among a people with filthy lips. Yet I have seen the King, the Lord of Heaven’s Armies.”

6 Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a burning coal he had taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. 7 He touched my lips with it and said, “See, this coal has touched your lips. Now your guilt is removed, and your sins are forgiven.” 8 Then I heard the Lord asking, “Whom should I send as a messenger to this people? Who will go for us?” I said, “Here I am. Send me.”

Isaiah 6:1-8 (New Living Translation)

“I am not afraid that the people called Methodists should ever cease to exist either in Europe or America. But I am afraid lest they should only exist as a dead sect, having the form of religion without the power. And this undoubtedly will be the case unless they hold fast both the doctrine, spirit, and discipline with which they first set out.” – John Wesley

It seems we’ve lost our way. As I sit to write this morning, I’m overwhelmed by emotions and thoughts. My mind races and my heart hurts. This year has been one of the wildest years in a long time – if ever. A global pandemic has captured the attention of the entire world and hundreds of thousands have died. For the most part, the world has cooperated in ending this unexpected virus; while a few have turned it into political games. 

Arguments abound about how to handle such a crisis. Opinions, which we are never in short supply, are as diverse as possible. Shutting down, returning, personal protection equipment, social distancing, and hand sanitizers continue to be on the top of everyone’s mind. We disagree as to the extent of the disease and how it is to be treated (and both claim that science supports their findings over the others). Conspiracy theories are plentiful and we smirk and dismiss anyone who thinks things differently than we. 

Add to this historic crisis, a new wrinkle. I say new, but it really is far from new – it is old, very old. Since the unjust and criminal death of George Floyd, a rage has spread and burst into our cities across the nation. Systemic injustice deserves rage. Racism is a blight on our country and a curse upon humanity. But so too is the rage that swelters under the surface and volcanically erupts wounding and hurting even more. 

As I read the news and see the pictures from across our nation, I find myself so very saddened by it all. I want something to do. I want cruelty and suspicion to be a bad nightmare that we can wake up from and choose to move past. I want those who have felt targeted to feel as safe as I do walking my streets. But I want all these things to happen in a way that is more than just a short burst of anger. Again, I understand the rage, but the actions of that rage are also deeply troubling. 

I realize that this is a dangerous territory to step into. I know I’m tiptoeing on thin ice for a lot of people. I also know that my voice may just be another in a long line of loud voices, which is why I hesitate. I don’t want to say the same things. I don’t want the same sound bites. I want something more. I want something different. I want something that might actually help us change. 

What I want is what is often called for or cried out for in the church. I want what we saw in previous generations – outpourings of God’s Spirit and healing and wholeness and reconciliation being offered. I want the old word “revival” to have a new expression. I want a renewal to occur and hearts healed of the undertow of rage that bubbles. Then I want a new dawn of justice to rise and hope to consume God’s people again. 

I want these things but, if I’m honest, I don’t know if we will see it right now. And that is not just me be cynical – it’s me trying to understand what it takes for those things to happen. It’s me realizing that every time God overflows into God’s people it started with humble and repentant hearts, and I’m not sure the church is currently capable of that right now. 

Well, now that I’ve stepped from thin ice to deep waters, I might as well explain. I think we have a real problem in our church – a being “right” problem. It keeps us from repentance. It keeps us from seeing that our hands have led to the sickness. It keeps us from listening and instead invites non-stop talking. Conservatives and Progressives alike have the issue. We lock-in and cannot see beyond our own religiosity, and in doing so we do something that must break the heart of God. 

When we are more right than righteous the easy thing for us to do is to demonize those who disagree with our way. It’s an old trick that even the Pharisees used against Jesus (“he’s in leagues with Beelzebub”). Jesus invited those who disagreed with him to the table. He asked questions. He invited transformation. He certainly challenged, but the Son of God probably has that prerogative. 

I am not the sinless Messiah. So my challenge had better be tempered by a deep humility. My disagreements had better come from a place of learning rather than telling. And yes, I know Jesus turned over the tables – but is that really the same thing as a protest? His righteous anger can’t be whitewashed but it can’t be conscripted to condone our unrighteous rage either. 

Defining this challenge is very important – it is not their problem. It is not a “them” issue. This is “our problem.” This is something that all colors need to see as a unique challenge that can be and needs to be dealt with. But in order to do this work, it will require more than speaking and shouting. It will require listening and learning. It will require the hard work of repentance and reconciliation. It will require being humble and it will require everyone willing to be wrong on some points. It will require a break in our pride and our monstrous appetite for winning. 

The author of Chronicles shows us God’s way of walking through pandemic and systemic challenges. God says to God’s stubborn and wayward children:

“if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

The time for seeking God’s outpouring and revival begins with our choice to stop being right and start being righteous – being holy as our heavenly Father is holy (1 Peter). It’s a pretty simple movement – humble, pray, seek, and turn – and, yet, as simple as it is we’re still far from it? 

The quote I opened with is from an article written by the founder of the Methodist movement, John Wesley. It was Wesley’s Methodists that sparked revivals in Europe and America. It quelled deadly revolutions for the sake of peaceful conversations. It invited the weary and world-worn to a new way of life and created a middle-class. But Wesley’s concern wasn’t that the movement would die out but that it would become a powerless shell of a movement. His concern was that we would become captivated by our dogma and discipline over the presence of the Holy One in our midst. His concern was self-rightness over a holy righteousness governed by the Spirit. 

I don’t like being wrong. I was raised with an understanding that I was to research and have my point and then hold it until proven wrong. But I also don’t want God’s world to continue to bubble over and rage all over itself. I want more and I’m willing to be wrong for the sake of something more. I wonder who else would join me?

God help us see that even in this pain,

we might find some hope for a tomorrow. 

Every easter, I find myself reminiscing about the celebrations of my childhood. Mom always had us dressed up in a new Easter outfit. Dad always took us to a really special Easter luncheon. The church was always full – my pastor seemed to bounce all morning long, and the music was always something memorable. Easter was something to anticipate and look forward to as much as any other day in the year. Sure the candy and baskets were great, but it was pretty small in comparison to Christmas, but the day just seemed to beam. 

I remember hearing Pastor Larry, one of my childhood heroes, saying, Easter was super bowl Sunday for the church. I later learned that the ancient church called it the festival or Feast of Easter. That is certainly what my childhood Easters were –  festivals. I think what I loved most was that everyone seemed to have a little extra pep in their step. I noticed more people humming. And everyone smiled – it was a NO Grumps allowed day. 

This Easter was very different than any of my past celebrations. My special outfit included regular old pajamas as we tuned in for our online worship service. Since the pandemic and closing of in-person worship, our church has prerecorded our services; so I preached my easter sermon on Maundy Thursday to an empty church building. Even with those radical changes, Easter still brought all those past memories racing to my mind. 

I grew up thinking that the real focus for our church was Christmas, Easter, and then every other week. I had no clue that the church has long held a year-long calendar that invites us to enter all kinds of special times or focuses that helps keep and deepen faith. Since learning of this calendar, I’ve discovered that my favorite season is the very short 10-day period from Ascension to Pentecost. 

As I studied these two days in particular, I came to the realization that they are pivotal moments in the life of a Jesus follower. These are the days that the rest of the story of scripture is building toward. Sure Easter is the great victory, but the story doesn’t end there; in fact, the sequels to Easter make Easter all the more important. Let me try and explain my thoughts…

The story of the Old Testament tells us how creation began, how it was corrupted, and then how God began to put into work the plan to rescue us from the mess we have made. The violent act of sin ripped and tore apart of the fabric of what God had called good. God’s holiness cannot stand that sin and God could have just thought and everything would be gone – poof, no more. But as God is holy, God is also full of Love, and God’s love decided to rescue instead of a wipeout. 

We see God’s reach of mercy repeatedly presented throughout the stories of the Old Testament and we see provisions made for God’s people to be covered. But underneath all those stories there was a longing for complete redemption. There was a hope that what was violently ripped a part would be renewed and restored. And so throughout the pages, we find hints that God will still do something – that God would end our exile. 

Some of the hints included individuals specifically called out and empowered with the creating, hovering Spirit of God in their lives. They led like Moses and David. They prophesied like Samuel and Elijah. They fought battles like Gideon and Deborah. They pressed the people to return and trust in God like Hezekiah and Josiah. These folks had, in small doses and for short times, the presence of the Holy Spirit in and with them. It was hoped that one day, this same Spirit would come on all God’s people (the prophet Joel even spoke of this hope). 

When Jesus’ birth was announced, it wasn’t just that a special baby was being born, but that God’s plan was finally happening. The rescue operation was occurring – albeit unlike what anyone had thought, but it was happening. The angels declaring “Glory to God in the Highest Heaven and peace on earth and goodwill to all humanity” are the early announcements that redemption is coming. 

Jesus’ baptism and ministry are connected to one single mission – that the kingdom of God has come. His healing and miracles were moments of the way God designed the world breaking into this broken world. His teachings reordered the way people thought about how life was to be lived. His ministry alarmed the powers that be for a reason – he was saying those powers were pretty paltry compared to what God had in mind. 

His death, well it broke the power of death. It severed the control that sin had. His blood not only covered our sin, but it removed our sin. His resurrection was a victory over all the brokenness and dominion of the evil one. His resurrection says that the new creation has begun. The empty tomb said that what God had meant for creation was once again possible. 

These events we celebrate every year – Advent, Christmas, Epiphany (where Jesus was revealed and his ministry begins), Lent, Holy Week, and Easter all tell us this redemption story. But, while the work was done, there were still things that needed to occur. Forty days after his resurrection, Jesus ascended to the throne of all that is. For so long, sin and death had ruled this plane but now no more. God, in the person of Jesus, is in charge. The ascension says the broken and dislocated creation is being, actively, renewed. 

Then 10 days after he ascends, Jesus fulfills the promise to never leave us – he gives us that very creative, consoling, comforting, empowering Spirit of God to dwell in all God’s people. Think about that – the same order over the chaos of creation dwells in you and me! The same Spirit that empowered Moses, Samuel, David, and Elijah empowers us! The Spirit that rested on Jesus at his baptism, rests on us!

See, the work of Jesus on the cross has been accomplished – no doubt. But it is in the days that follow that his work becomes our work. In the ascension, his kingdom come is our kingdom mandate and responsibility. In Easter, we are saved, and in Pentecost, we are in-dwelt with the life-giving presence of God and sent to do as the Father had sent the Son. 

As these new realities began to settle in on me, I noticed a difference in my yearly focus. I still get REALLY excited for Easter, but I also get equally excited to celebrate the Ascension and Pentecost. These days keep the crescendo rolling and they release me into the summer and fall living, or at least prepared to live, differently – as if the Kingdom were on earth as it is in heaven. 

So, as we celebrate Pentecost this week, I hope and pray that you will find yourself filled with anticipation for a new, fresh outpouring in your life of the Holy Spirit. I pray that you’ll remember that the cross stands and the tomb is empty and that the King is on the throne. I pray that you and I will begin to see our work is far from finished and that we are sent with his mandate and empowered to accomplish it. And I pray that as we celebrate, a new pep will be in all our steps. 

“To be loved is to be changed”

The love of God is the need of every human being on the planet. Without it, we aimlessly wander trying to fill a hole that seems un-fillable. We try to fit a bunch of other things in it thinking we will be fulfilled, but nothing works. In our attempts, we end up with wounds that need healing. With new wounds, we try any number of remedies that will make it all better, which of course it doesn’t. It’s a pretty vicious cycle. In the end all would be made whole if we just allowed the love of God to be ours. 

It is only in receiving the love of God that we are able to give love to anyone else. I can’t love my wife and kids the way they deserve, or the way I want to if I am not living in the middle God’s love for me. Without God’s love, my brokenness leaks out in selfishness and transactional love where I want to get something back for what I have given. 

You’ve probably noticed that I said God’s love and not God’s unconditional love. I find there is a lot of confusion regarding what unconditional love is and what it does. When I hear someone say “God loves me unconditionally” I often hear a lot of add-ons to that truth. What I fear that I hear is “God’s love means I don’t have to change anything about me. God loves me warts, scars, bruises, brokenness, and all and there’s nothing I’m gonna do about any of that.” But is that unconditional love? Is that love at all?

If I were a doctor and had very sick patients but did nothing for them, nor did I encourage them to take their medicines, would I care for them? Is it ok for a parent to love their kid but let them play in the middle of a busy intersection or stick their fingers into electrical outlets? I love my boys, but I don’t want them to do things that will harm them, so does that mean I don’t love them unconditionally? Of course not! 

That God loves us unconditionally is one thing but it is another to claim that unconditional love will leave us as we are. Maybe it’s better to say that the love of God is unending and unmerited rather than unconditional? God has a love for humanity and creation that is without bounds. It was love that brought forth creation in the first place and it is God’s love that keeps life happening. 

God is also holy – absolutely pure. Holiness is repeatedly seen as a refining fire that burns off the decay so that the best is left. Holiness cannot tolerate sin and brokenness. God’s holiness without love would obliterate any signs of the impurity the second it occurs. But God’s love without holiness isn’t possible due to God’s very nature. The two concepts have to work together – God is Love and God is Holy. 

God’s love is a holy love. Sin is what separated humanity from God. Sin has to be dealt with so that the Love we were destined to receive can be received. It’s God’s love that offers the way to do deal with sin. God’s love covers sin and restores creation. This love is unmerited. We couldn’t do a single thing to earn it. It is a love that is boundless and deep and totally encompassing. It is a love that sees the best and wants the best for us. This is the love we often call unconditional. 

But the unconditional love we receive can’t let us stay in this space of ongoing brokenness. Unconditional love will never go away, unconditional love says nothing we do will make God not love us. But receiving that love also implies that we will be transformed into the one that re-presents that love to the world.

Yes, God loves us, sin and warts, and all. And because God loves us, we are not supposed to stay wart infested and sin-laden. We are to let that love heal us – heal our wounds, heal our brokenness, heal the places that we just think we’re stuck having to deal with. God’s love is for the transformation of all of us. That unconditional love doesn’t mean there is a fee or a duty owed. But it should mean that we are willing to let all we hold dearest to us be invited to the transformation of God’s Holy Love. 

Being unconditionally loved by God is not an excuse to be a jerk because “it’s just the way I am.” Being unconditionally loved by God doesn’t mean that “if it feels good, then do it, because God loves me anyway.” Being unconditionally loved by God doesn’t mean that repentance is a bad thing (actually it’s a great thing that should lead to a huge celebration of freedom). Being unconditionally loved by God doesn’t mean there isn’t a divine plan for you to be more than you are right now. 

Being unconditionally loved by God does mean that no matter what happens, I will always have someone who will be there for me – even when I’ve disgraced and wounded Him – who wants to welcome me back and forgive me. Being unconditionally loved by God does mean that I am never alone. Being unconditionally loved by God means I don’t have to fear judgment. Being unconditionally loved by God means I have been given life. 

So, I don’t know if this is a good word or a hard word for you – it’s kinda both for me. It means I’m loved enough by God that I have an opportunity to be Holy as He is and then to Love as He does. In any case, I hope today you’ll experience the unmerited love of God – the love that you can do nothing to earn. I also hope that in that love, you’ll know God has a great plan for you.

“To be loved is to be changed”

I saw a cartoon recently that showed a bunch of animals walking and observing all the humans closed off in their home habitats. The caption under the picture said, “so this is what it feels like to be in a zoo.” Like many others, I kinda feel that caged up feeling. For two months, I have felt the drain as the fears and worries of this pandemic grab and claw away my sense of freedom. I’ve learned that being caged up is not fun; it’s now how I want to live. 

I want to fly. I want to stretch and soar. I want to run and go and move. I know how silly it sounds, but I also know I’m not alone. There is a deep-down sense in all of us that longs for freedom – that longs for life. I talk and interact with folks all the time and the brokenness of being caged up is written all over their faces and throughout their behaviors. We are built with a desire for something “more.”

A couple months ago, we decided that our refrigerator needed to be replaced, so we began the process of researching and purchasing the one we wanted. The day it arrived, we couldn’t help but be awed by it as it stood so shiny and new. We wiped the handles down profusely after each time we opened the doors. We remarked at how crisp the water was and how lovely the ice cubes were. 

Then a week went by and we no longer paused to take in its brilliance as we walked by. It’s still the same awesome fridge, but we don’t wipe it down quite as much, and we’ve already started flinging the doors shut. In another week or so, the “same-as-cash-payments” will begin. And in no time, we will go from anticipating its arrival, to working to pay it off, and finally, it will just be an appliance doing its job. 

This is the religion of consumption. We “need” something but those needs often end up consuming us. We consume clothes or tech or bottles of wine or fancy cars, all with the promise of meeting our needs. But in no time, the things we were promised will make us happy end up possessing us – controlling us – binding us. The religion of consuming promises the “more” but it rarely lives up to the bargain. It often leaves us emptier. It ends up caging us and clipping our wings. 

Clipped wings and cages create huge regrets, and regrets open us up to see just how needy we are. Henri Nouwen admits “when I think about how I live my life, and how others live their lives, I am amazed by how enormously needy I am.” Needs of affection, attention, affirmation, praise, influence, power, and success become the drive for much of my consumption. He continues “needs lead to wounds and the wounds create new needs, and on and on it goes.” 

I hate when I read a book and it dials in and touches a nerve. 

But I love it when I’m also given the way out of the cage. 

When I live out of my wounded-ness, my goal becomes to satisfy my needs on my own. In that wounded-ness, I forget that the most important need I have has already been filled. The greatest need any of us have is to be loved and accepted. Every other attempt is a way to fill an un-fillable hole. I have been given a gift, and yet, like a bird sitting in her cage with the door open, I don’t access it.

In Hebrew, the gift is called the “hesed” of God. Hesed is almost untranslatable – it’s too big of an idea. We often say it is the loving-kindness and mercy from God that embraces us as we are. In Greek, the words is agape – the highest form of love. Agape is the best intention for another regardless of our feelings. In the ancient world, agape was merely philosophical; that is until the Jesus-people started turning up with a God who unconditionally loved all people. 

According to Nouwen, it’s the unconditional love that we all crave and we need it. When unconditional love is held back, we ended up wounded. And from wounded-ness, we seek ways to fill the hole left with anything we can find. In the search, we end up feeling empty and disappointed; still longing to fly but stuck sitting in a cage. 

Yet, this is exactly what Jesus came to invite us into – this is the gift! He came showing us the God who is Love. It’s not good enough, as my old professor Ben Witherington says, to talk about a loving God. Instead, we have to start with this one phenomenal reality-bending statement – this isn’t just a loving God, this God is LOVE.  Most of the world’s gods are anything but loving. Other gods are petty and demanding. Other gods are transactional in their love – we give and we get, but the God who is LOVE sees us exactly as we are and still loves us.

This God sees the messes we make – the wounds we carry – and desires for us to be made whole. Is that not remarkable?!? This God of Love knows our deepest need and knows we can’t be whole and healed until we experience the Love only he gives. This love invites us to be found in his Love.

So did the Beatles get it right? Is it true that “all we need is love?” I guess it depends on the love we’re talking bout. Hesed and Agape are completely different from all other loves. On their own, the other loves are consuming and needy. Unconditional agape-hesed love never leaves someone the same – it transforms and fills and frees rather than creates a list of mandatory steps that repay. 

God’s Love is unconditional; accepting us just as we are and inviting us to never be the same. God’s love removes the stigma of our wounds and replaces our loss with belonging. God’s Love brings us out of the cage and invites us to soar. God’s Love always brings abundant life. God’s love doesn’t invite us to consume stuff but consumes us in the brilliant purity of holiness. 

If you are wounded right now – if you are racing to consume – if you are looking for love but only finding that you are being caged, then can I invite you to take a small second and hear this truth. You were made for more. The God who is LOVE loves you – no strings attached. You don’t have to clean up for it to be given. It is there and it is yours. But I warn you, God’s love will transform you. It will change you because that is its power – it will bring out the best in you and it will challenge your thoughts and beliefs. It will reveal the places where healing is needed – dark places, scary places. It will also revive, and fill and renew you unlike any other counterfeit. 

I hope you will hear these words today – you are loved, unconditionally. I hope if you have heard those words before, you might see what cheap knock-offs of love you might have returned too. I hope you’ll see the transformation this week and that you will have wounds healed. I hope we will get lost in the love of the One who is LOVE and that as we do the world will hear us say “Hey, you are loved too!”

If I’m honest, the last week or so has been pretty tough. To quote an old friend, “the struggle has been real.” I know I’m not alone either. We’re living in a season that is just really hard right now. We call it the “new normal” but it’s anything but normal. Even with limited time, and limited conversations, I hear the stories. We try and make jokes about not getting out of our pj’s or about forgetting what day it is, but there is also a deep truth and some deep fear behind our jokes. 

My kids eat a lot of cereal, so cereal boxes are always around. And the last week or so has kinda felt like being in a discarded cereal box with the lids slowly closing and things getting darker and tighter. Or maybe it’s more like a roller coaster that won’t stop? In many ways, it has slowed down considerably, but it still just keeps going. At some point, we just want to pull into the station and relax a bit. Or maybe, it’s information overload and the amount of “stuff” our minds are processing has reached a point where our brains and bodies just kinda want to shut down? 

Even if life is feeling a bit frozen right now, decision fatigue is a real thing. I want to do “the right thing” but with so many opinions what is the right thing? Of course, the divisiveness of the larger culture is no help here. If I say this, will I get sucked into a corner? If I don’t respond will I be miss-labeled? And who knew a simple thing like wearing a mask would dominate much of our conversations? Or that church attendance during a pandemic would be a cry for religious liberty?

As a proud planner, not being able to see or have a plan for what’s coming next has been rough. And to this, my soul has needed the wisdom and words of Henri Nouwen. I’ve been reading his book “Following Jesus” which is perfect for me right now. Following Jesus is what I’ve wanted my entire life to be about, but in the recent days following has looked at times more like aimlessly trudging through a deep fog. But Henri speaks to this fog in a way that brings a lightness to my fatigued body, and a bit of clarity for my cloudy journey. 

This week, Nouwen brought me to Luke 5:1-11. In this story, the noise had gotten loud and the crowds had gotten big. Jesus couldn’t even see all the people coming to him, and so he borrows a boat from some fishermen and teaches from the water. From this perspective, he can see the crowds and the fishermen have some entertainment as they repair and clean their tools. As Jesus finishes up, he asks Simon to take him fishing. Simon knows his stuff and he knows when it’s time to fish and when it’s time to nap. Simon had been out on the water all night seeking for a catch, he was ready to call it a day. But hearing Jesus speak invited Peter into the impossible. 

Jesus said, “let’s go out to the deeper waters.” That’s not where Peter wants to be. It’s an illogical request. It means getting out all that has been put away and stowed to do something that should have NO payout. And yet, Jesus invites into deeper waters and Peter agrees. In this place of exhaustion and where no one wanted to be, the fisherman becomes a disciple. 

“Go out into the deeper waters.” What a strange thing for Jesus to say. From what we know, Jesus wasn’t a fisherman. He didn’t have a fish-finder on the end of his walking staff that beeped when he got near a big school. But he was someone that invited others, in this case, a bunch of fishermen, to trust him. I think that’s what going out to deeper waters mean – taking the next small step of trust. 

Could that be what discipleship is? Is Nouwen right when he says that discipling is taking a small step and experiencing the fullness of God’s love. Is discipleship just giving expression to God’s amazing love and then letting that expression take all the forms possible. A small step of trust opens us to receiving from the bigger heart of God; the God who does have the answers – who does know the plan and what is coming. Nouwen invites me to see that following Jesus means giving my “unique form and incarnation over to God’s love.” 

But how? How do I go out to those deeper waters? How can I trust when I’m in that box, or unending rollercoaster, or in the fog? I see the giants of the faith and they don’t seem to have these questions. They seem to always know what to do? And I’m certainly not like them. Do I “fake it till I make it?” Is that the answer? Is there some book I can read that will tell me how to get from a to b?

One of the beautiful things about God is that God’s abundance is seen in us. We are so wildly and incredibly diverse and different. God didn’t make a bunch of cookie-cutter pre-fabricated beings. God gave unique finger prints and unique souls to each and every one. That means to try and be like anyone else, is to miss the point on what it means to belong to God. The truth is, there are no 2 followers of Jesus who are alike. That’s brilliantly beautiful!

So if being a copy-cat disciple ain’t gonna do it, and pretending won’t either what is the next step? Notice Jesus didn’t reprimand Simon for what was certainly a begrudging shove off for the shore. Instead, Jesus invited him to trust a small step – let’s go out. Peter didn’t know what was out there, or what was going to be accomplished, but he did choose to trust Jesus. 

There’s my sliver of light – as a disciple, not only do I not need to be Billy Graham or NT Wright or John Wesley, instead, I – Jim Nichols – only can choose to take one small step and trust God’s love to hold me up. All I need to do is take a step in order to be with Jesus. It’s a step away from fear and into God’s heart. Don’t need to jump, I just need to move toward Him. 

But what’s the step? How do I know which direction to go? Nouwen wonders if we spend so much time on the “BIG WILL” of God things that we miss that our next steps are small and very knowable. The guy who cut you off – next step may just be to let it go and not race up in order to tell him what a moron he is. Being kind – holding our tongue from something that will only inflame a situation – refusing to pay back someones bad attitude with a quick sarcastic retort – turning off social media or screen time when all it’s doing is building fear and taking life – these are easy steps. And they may be more in line with following God’s will for your life than you know. 

Sometimes we have to endure the unknowing and the tiresome roller coaster, but even there we can still take a small next step. Sometimes the noise is great and the mind, heart and soul can feel like a bomb has gone off. Sometimes a pandemic will take the best out of you and leave you pretty ragged and weary. And in those moments, I wonder how many invitations we miss to go into deeper waters with Jesus? 

I close with these words from one of my other favorite authors – James Bryan Smith. His words are reminders and a great hope to me in these rough days: 

“You are one in whom Christ delights and dwells. You live in the strong and unshakeable kingdom of God. The kingdom is not in trouble and neither are you.” – James Bryan Smith

Getting nervous and anxious is a really interesting phenomenon – if you think about it. I recently preached about fear and I was researching how our bodies were created to respond to threats. Our pulses quicken, our blood pressure rises, our muscles tighten, we are being made ready to go into some kind of action. Even our breath is affected by the situations around us. In the calm of my office, this fascinating, in other places, well…fascinating might not be the right word.  

During my college years, I commuted to school every day for classes. I’ll never forget the nerves of driving up the hill to the commuter parking lot for my first day. I was excited and anxious and ready to begin this new season of life. I’ll also never forget the first time I drove off-campus in the middle of the day. I was used to the rigid rules of high school where you don’t leave unless you are picked up or have a note. Driving down the hill, I kept waiting for someone to jump out and reprimand me for doing something wrong. 

It’s silly to think about now, but the nerves as I drove down that hill were ridiculous. Was I doing something wrong? Would I get caught? Would I not measure up? Like, I said, silly. Since I didn’t live on campus, I didn’t have someone to show me the ropes, to tell me where to go and what to do. I just had to know that stuff. It wasn’t until my 2nd week that I found the commuters hang out, and was quickly taken in under their wing. I found a home in this strange place and with this group who became “my people,” and it was amazing how quickly my nerves disappeared. 

As I think through that memory, the idea of “finding a home” really settles into my head and heart. In his book “Following Jesus,” Henri Nouwen points to the story of John and Andrew hearing this bold statement of their teacher, John the Baptizer. Jesus has come to the wilderness to be baptized by John, and as Jesus walks away, John says “there is the lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” 

It must have been a shocking statement for John and Andrew to hear from their teacher. This wild man dressed is camel’s hair and who had a really crazy diet, suddenly pauses and makes a proclamation unlike any other he has made. John was known for shouting his message of repentance, but at this moment, did John whisper his insight? Did his followers have to lean in to hear what was being said? Did John point Jesus out? Did he stand taller in the presence of Jesus or did he slump down in awe?

In any case, John and Andrew take off like a shot. They want to see this man – to be near him and so they run after the lamb. They seem to instinctively know that the time to upgrade has come. I find myself laughing at stories like this – they just seem so comical to me. The movie renditions make it look like it’s some holy high church scenario where Jesus is floating across the ground, and the disciples come up so reverently. But the gospel tells us “Jesus turned around, saw them following, and said, “what do you want?” 

It’s almost as if they are following at a distance; trying to see what this lamb is going to do or where he is going. Their hiding or following at a distance must be pretty lame because Jesus sees them and says what anyone would say if they were being followed. Of course, if that sounds a little sacrilegious, then Jesus certainly could have known they were there because he’s the Son of God, but I don’t know it just doesn’t seem to fit for me. 

The disciples come up to Jesus and they answer his question – “Teacher, where do you live?” Where are you going? Where is your home? Not a question about who he is, or what his mission is, or some theological qualifier, but “where do you live?” Jesus says “come and see.” And they do – they go with Jesus and they stay with him and they begin a new season where they actually dwell with this new teacher. 

Jesus didn’t lead them to an altar moment. He didn’t tell them to “Ask, Repent, Confess, and Receive.” He invited them to be with him. John would later use the word “abide” and Jesus invites them to abide with him. He invites them to be at home with him. He invites them to step out of the shadows – to stop following form a distance and to step into the living room of Jesus’ presence. 

Nouwen says “the image of God inviting us to his home is used throughout scripture,” and in all these images it seems pretty clear that God’s desire is for us to be found at home with God. It is in the house of God where safety and hope and peace and embrace occurs when there is so much uncertainty, chaos, confusion, and dread outside. 

After 3 years of walking with the Master, Jesus invites those disciples one more time to be at home with him. “I have made my home in you so you can make your home in me” (John 15). He says “abide in me.” In other words, our home, the place we are most free to be who we are, is Jesus. Certainly, it’s with Jesus and for many, this is the closest some will ever be brave enough to step, but Jesus’ love is inviting us to “come and see” and make our home in him. 

Nouwen asks a question that is very pointed. It’s easy to read it as a churchy question and then to give a churchy answer, but to do so misses the invitation. The question is “Are you following Jesus?” It’s a tough one, right? He says more often we are more “wanderers rather than followers” A wanderer isn’t at home. A wanderer searches for that place where they can lay their head. A follower, at least Jesus’ followers, have been invited to find the place where Jesus is, and then make their home with him – to abide there with him. 

Eugene Peterson’s translation of Matthew 11, where Jesus invites the weary wanderer to follow is particularly gripping for me in light of this abiding and making my home in and with Jesus. Peterson translates Jesus words this way:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Unforced rhythms of grace…wow! It seems that with all my distractions and noise and exhaustion, this kind of homecoming may be what I need more than anything. In following Jesus, I tend to make a mess out of things rather quickly. It usually comes from making the home rather than being at home. It always comes because I’ve seen the “lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” and I stay back at a distancing wondering where Jesus is going to go next, rather than hear him say “come on, and see where I am.” 

I hope at some point we are going to have a moment when Jesus says to us “what do you want?” And I hope as we hear that question, we’ll find the nerve to not worry about who’s watching us or what we could do wrong, but we’ll just find ourselves at home with Jesus. It is after all what he’s wanting for us – just to be with you and me.