Pastor Judy's Blog

Ec-centric Indeed

By all worldly measurements we have seen some unusual things this year. We saw some students give up their Friday nights to help people who are homeless feel more human and we witnessed other students give up their spring breaks to give people dignity by washing their feet and building them homes. We watched students, faculty, and staff give up their personal time to stay late and tutor and cheer one another on. It is unusual.

By all worldly measurements we had the opportunity to witness some odd stuff these two semesters. We saw enemies become friends again and hardened hearts become soft again. We saw a young white man wash a young black woman’s feet and then we saw her stand up on those loved feet and then kneel down her brave knees and we watched her feel safe enough to wash his feet in return. We saw conflicts resolved and people commit to be a reconciling people. It is odd.

By all worldly measurements this campus has participated in unconventional work during our time together. We saw twelve people baptized in a big plastic pool from Big Lots, twelve people who now know that they are loved by God and want to live for him. We witness people who gave up drinking and gave up dividing, gave up cutting and gave up comparing, gave up porn and absolutely refuse to follow the norm. We saw people pick up their Bibles and others pick up healthy habits. We saw quiet people learning to pray out loud and loud people willing to be silent. It is unconventional.

In a violent world we gathered for peace. In the midst of mess we decided there was a message. We cut holes in church ceilings so we could bring our friends in. We walked out of our tombs and decided to leave our grave clothes behind. And in the midst of all the division in the world and those who breed it with their relentless tweets and posts we saw people make an intentional move to Christ, a location where people choose to live as one.

This year has been odd and unconventional, unusual, peculiar, and strange because time and time again people among us have gone against the pull of the world and intentionally taken themselves out of the center of the universe and instead placed God in God’s rightful place at the center of everything. And with Jesus securely at the center of our universe this work will certainly continue as together we commit to becoming an truly ec-centric people.

More than Meets the Eye

I like to think of myself as an observant person, a person who pays attention, a person who notices things and who doesn’t miss much. Even though there is an abundance of evidence to the contrary; I don’t usually pay attention to where I place my keys, I tend not to notice yellow traffic lights and I usually only observe the weather patterns that hover over my particular location, I have continued to described myself as visionary. But on Monday night the evidence of my inattention became so overwhelmingly obvious that I can no longer deny that I don’t see most of what is going on around me.

This revelation came through watching a new television show called “Brain Games.” The show’s intent is to teach the viewer how their mind works through a series of perceptual experiments, games, and illusions. During one of the games viewers were asked to focus on a particular area of the TV screen in order to count how many times a dancer stepped into a particular spotlight. I was faithful to the task and confident that my focus was going to score high points. However, at the end of the onscreen challenge the host asked if we had noticed a man dressed in a penguin suit who had walked across the stage during the dancer’s performance. “A man in a penguin suit?!” I had certainly seen no such thing.

But sure enough, as the producers rewound the footage and hit play for the viewers one more time, right in the middle of the screen, directly behind the dancers I was observing, walked a human-sized penguin that I somehow failed to see. It’s called "inattentional blindness," and according to the neuroscientist on the screen, even the most observant of us have this deficiency. He went on to explain that although we might think we are seeing everything around us with crystal clarity, that actually our brains have an attention spotlight that is only about 1/1000 of our field of view, about the size of your thumbnail (if you have a moment hold up your thumb at arms length and take a look at how little you are actually seeing).

The experiment brought to mind Jesus’s assessment of those who were missing the cues of the kingdom, “You will be ever seeing but never perceiving." (Mt 13:13-15) And today I can’t help but wonder how much I’m missing and I wonder if I’m focusing on the right thumbnail-sized spot of my world.

In one final defense of my “seeing self,” I said to my husband, who had also failed to see the penguin, “Well, at least I have good peripheral vision.” But my positive self-assessment was dashed after the next onscreen experiment, where we were asked to stare at a large X in the middle of the screen and, while not shifting our gaze, identify which cheerleader on the screen—to the left and to the right of the X—was a woman and which was a man wearing a wig. I thought it would be a simple task, because anyone can identify a man dressed as a cheerleader even with peripheral vision. But in spite of the accompanying hairy legs and a beard I picked the man in a skirt rather than the woman on several occasions.

The host quickly reassured us that we were perfectly normal and that our brain was just doing what it has always done, filling in the blanks with what it assumes to be there. Which of course means that much or our life we don’t actually notice what’s going on around us at all, but instead fill in the blanks with the conclusions and stereotypes our brains have compiled over the length of our lives. It’s a matter of efficiency for our brains. We simply can’t process all of the new information that comes at us every day and so our brain takes short cuts focusing only on what’s important for our own survival.

This is of course problematic for those of us who are called to lay down our own lives for the sake of the world, who are called to notice things that others miss, who are commanded to move beyond broad stereotypes and simple prepared conclusions and who are invited to notice a kingdom that is advancing in ways that we have not seen before.

In Luke 10, Jesus appoints 72 people to go out and find more people to be a part of this kingdom work. Upon their return they marvel over what they have seen and Jesus replies, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see.” (Lk 10:23) In Luke’s gospel, this blessing of the eyes is followed up by the parable of the Good Samaritan where Jesus challenges his followers to see beyond their own stereotypes and to consider a kingdom that is going to advance beyond their own ethnicity. Through a simple story Jesus says, “Make sure you don’t miss the penguin while you’re focusing on the dancer’s feet."

Jesus invites his followers to be healed of their blindness, to see beyond the thumbnail and to let him fill in the blanks of their peripheral vision. In essence, Jesus says, “There’s more to it than your human eyes can see, so let me show you a world even beyond your vision.” And so today I invite us to be honest that we all have our blind spots, that we are all missing some of what God is doing and that we all need a vision greater than ourselves. And in response to that confession may we come to Jesus this day, as the blind men did so long ago, with the same request, “Lord, we want to see.” (Mt 20:33)

A World Where Death Loses Its Sting

I’m sure you have all been watching the news about the deadly bombings that happened at the finish line of the Boston Marathon this week: three dead, 183 injured. On the same day, in bombings across Iraq, 51 people were killed, 266 were injured, and 21 were executed by law. The following day, seven people died in post-election violence in Venezuela, 12 were killed and nine were injured while on a peacekeeping mission in South Sudan, and 15 were killed and 35 were injured in a suicide bombing in Pakistan. And today in Afghanistan, a roadside bomb killed seven and injured four. And the running total in Syria is 70,000 lost and an untold number injured.

And this, of course, is just the violence that makes the news.

In our world, every single day includes people dying violent deaths. Most of the time we choose to turn those deaths into numbers because it seems to make death easier to contend with when the losses are numbers and not names, unless of course they were a person you knew by name. This past weekend, four dead and 26 injured by gun violence in Chicago: Kevin, Jonathan, Miguel, and an unnamed man whom I am sure was someone’s child.

In our world, every single day includes people dying violent deaths, and every single day I fight against the tendency to turn people into numbers. I try to look up names online, I try to imagine them as a father, friend, or beloved child. I try to not turn the page or scroll down until I’ve acknowledged the loss of a real human who was designed to live forever. And I do this because I am a child of the resurrection, a daughter of the Savior who did not remain in the grave, the offspring of a God who conquers death. And so I grieve over the loss of life and I rage against the violence that takes life, takes it without thought that there were names involved.

Amidst all of the violence it’s easy to forget that death was not the plan of God but the choice of humans who thought that life would be better if they could live it on their own terms. Death was never in the plans of God and death is no friend of the One who took a handful of earth and breathed people to life. Death is not even a business associate of the One who raised his Son from the grave and called Him the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. So that you can be confident beyond the shadow of a doubt that God hates death, it is good for you to know that in the final pages of the Bible it says that the last thing that God will destroy is death, that God will throw death into the lake of fire and finish it once and for all because it was never part of his plans for people.

Death is not supposed to be a part of our lives and I hope we never get comfortable with it, I hope we always rage against it and I pray we always take the time to attach names to numbers. Some people are prone to say that true maturity can be seen in those people who “get over it’ or “get used to it,” but I’m not convinced because I know we were made for better than this, we were made to be eternal, we were designed to live forever, to never fall victim to violence and to never die.

However, until the last day arrives we will all have to contend with the violence, and perhaps one of the ways we can do this together is to be the people who consistently testify to the possibility of life even in the midst of so much death. And so today may you be the one who testifies to the hope that we have; the hope in a Savior who knows every name, the hope of a world where the lion and the lamb will lie down together, the hope of a world where death loses its sting because everyone has been told about the Resurrection and the Life.

Did It Have to End So Tragic?

Right before Easter break, Joel Brand, one of our youth ministry majors, brought to my attention that hardly anyone names their son Judas, but that there are a whole lot or Peters. I smiled when he said it because one of the things I love about my job is being around so many people who are thinking profound thoughts and who challenge me to consider thinking new thoughts as well. And this small statement challenged me to consider why there are so few sons named Judas.

In Matthew 26:14 it says, "Then one of the Twelve—the one called Judas Iscariot—went to the chief priests and asked, 'What are you willing to give me if I hand Jesus over to you?' So they counted out for him thirty silver coins. From then on Judas watched for an opportunity to hand him over." Later that same evening Judas walked up to Jesus, and gave him a kiss of friendship as he betrayed him into the hands of those who wanted him dead.

Some would tell you this is the great tragedy of Judas, the fact that he sold Jesus out for 30 pieces of silver. But that alone can’t be why we don’t name our child Judas because Peter denied Jesus, not just once, but three times, and we still name our sons Peter.

When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty silver coins to the chief priest and the elders. “I have sinned,” he said, “for I have betrayed innocent blood.” “What is that to us?” they replied. “That’s your responsibility.” So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then went away and hanged himself. Matthew 27:3-5

The reason we don’t often name our children Judas is not because of the betrayal, everyone denies or betrays Jesus sometime and even the most chosen among us, even the closest to Jesus often deny him three times in a single sitting. We all have our “30 pieces of silver” that we will deny Jesus for. For Peter perhaps it was not getting caught or avoiding a difficult road or keeping his reputation intact. We do all have our price and yet we still name our children Peter and so betrayal and denial cannot be the reason we rarely name our children Judas.

And if you read the text, Judas is as repentant as Peter, maybe even more. Peter weeps bitterly when he realizes what he’s done, but he keeps his denial private and he confesses to God alone. Judas on the other hand makes a public display of his repentance. Filled with remorse, Judas even goes back to the temple to make his confession and tries to make things right by telling the truth and giving back what he gained in the exchange for his lie.

So why do we still name our sons Peter but very rarely Judas? I believe it is because of the tragic end of Judas’ life. There is no written redemption in it. The story ends badly, and I wonder, did it have to? Did it have to end so tragic?

Jesus does say that Judas was “doomed to destruction so that Scripture could be fulfilled.” But was Judas doomed because of Judas? Did Jesus say Judas was doomed because there was something inherently evil about the guy? I mean, there is some evidence that he was perhaps a bit greedy, but if that counts us tragic, there aren’t too many of us that aren’t doomed. Was Judas doomed because of Judas, or were there more factors that contributed to his fate? Is it possible that Judas’s story is tragic not just because Judas messed up but because the community around him dropped the ball as well?

Think about it. Judas, filled with remorse, goes running back to the religious people to tell them he made a mistake and you know what their response was? “What is that to us?” they replied. “That’s your responsibility.” And I can’t help but think about how different the end of Judas’ life might have been if only he had run into someone who really knew Jesus.

What if Judas in the midst of his remorse had run into Zaccheus or the Samaritan woman or the woman who had been caught in adultery? And what if they took time to notice him and said, “What’s wrong, Judas?” And what if through the sobs Judas had said, “I messed up and I can’t fix it.” And what if, right then and there, one of them had witnessed to Judas what they themselves had experienced with Jesus. “It’s okay, Judas, don’t run away and don’t do anything crazy, just go back to Jesus. He is so good. He’ll fix it.” What if Judas would have run into a witness who was willing to testify to the goodness of Jesus?

I think one faithful witness could have turned this story from a tragedy into a story of God’s mercy and grace and perhaps then we would have named our kids Judas just as frequently as we name them Peter. But all Judas ran into were religious people that said, “What is that to us?”

Before Jesus ascended into heaven he communicated that his desire was that his followers would become witnesses, “in Jerusalem and in Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth.” When we quote that we often put the emphasis on to the ends of the earth. But I wonder if when Jesus said it he thought of Judas, the one that was lost in Jerusalem. And I wonder if when he commissioned his followers, he said, “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth,” with the hopes that even in the Holy City, in the hearts of the most religious people there would also be a witness to his mercy and grace.

He Is Alive Indeed!

He is risen!

The resurrection of Jesus Christ changed everything because the resurrection of Jesus is why we are confident that Jesus was not just a nice guy and not just a good man but that truly Jesus was the Son of God (Romans 1:1-4).

It because Jesus was raised from the dead that we can be confident that our sins are forgiven. For if Jesus had not been raised we would have only had a sneaking suspicion that Jesus was able to do the things he promised to do. Without the resurrection, the crucifixion of the lamb of God for the sins of the world would have been a great story but difficult to prove. But because of the resurrection the forgiveness of sins moves beyond a great drama and can be proclaimed a great truth.

It is because Jesus Christ was raised from the dead that you and I can be confident that there is nothing God cannot do, no battle God cannot win. For if the God we serve can bring a beaten and crucified man who had been dead for three days up out of a tomb we must truly ask ourselves what are really worried about? Can a little disease or a difficult day or a battle with depression or a world filled with discrimination be more difficult to defeat than death? Surely the God who conquered death and raised a body from the grave is able to raise the rest of life from the dead as well.

And so we proclaim boldly this Easter season, “He is risen! He is risen indeed!”

But isn’t it interesting how quickly our understanding of the resurrection becomes past tense and how quickly our brains begin saying “He was risen!” It only takes a few days and most of us turn the resurrection into something God did do and forget that resurrection is actually something that God does do…on a regular basis.

Last week after a men’s discipleship meeting, Ryan Ciganek, one of the disciples, mentioned to me that it is good that we say, “He is risen, He is risen indeed,” but he inquired if it wouldn’t be better if we said “Jesus is alive! He is alive indeed!” He asked me to consider if it would help the people of God to remember that not only was Jesus resurrected back to life but that Jesus currently is the resurrection and the life. Jesus is alive! He is alive indeed!

And Ryan is right, the resurrection was never meant to be just a moment in time. Rather, the resurrection marked the inauguration of a brand new kingdom where life continues to win; a kingdom that continues to advance until all people are set free from their oppressors, a kingdom where people find daily victory over darkness, and a kingdom where people continue to be raised from the dead.

Jesus is alive. He is alive indeed! And so when we invite the resurrected Christ to live in us and through us there should be evidence in our day to day that life is winning because the death in us is dying. There should be evidence that we are rising up, getting rid of our grave clothes and preparing to walk out of the tomb.

When I was in about third grade I went to the Science Museum in Minneapolis. I remember they had a mummy on display. And I remember two things about that mummy. First of all, the mummy was so small. I remember thinking I would have been a giant in ancient Egypt. The other lasting memory is that the mummy was wrapped up so tightly. There were grave clothes wound around him over and over again until his little body was all confined for all eternity. And I believe some of us are in quite a similar situation.

Some of us are all wrapped up in grave clothes, surrounded by the things of this life that have been wound around us over and over again. Some of us are being squeezed so tightly and wrapped up so powerfully. And I am confident that this is not what Jesus wants for us. Rather, Jesus wants for us what he wanted for Lazarus, his friend who had been dead for some time.

Upon approaching the tomb where Lazarus had been laid, Jesus says to those standing close by, “Take away the stone." In essence, “Help me get rid of that thing that is blocking my friend from moving back into life.” And today I believe Jesus is commissioning some of us to participate in similar work, work that will help our tomb dwelling friends by using our power and influence to roll some stones away on behalf of those trapped in places of death.

Not all of us are standing outside the tomb. Among us there are those who currently find themselves inside the tomb. And so today, for those of you who feel like a part of you is dead or dying, you need to hear the words of Jesus speak to you as well. “Come out of the tomb. Get up and quit lying in that dead place. I have a resurrected life for you.”

And yet even though the stone is no longer blocking the way, and even though Jesus is calling, some can’t seem to make their way to the light that is breaking through where the barrier has been removed. And so today, for those who feel stuck in between the tomb and resurrected life, I want you to hear Jesus say, “I brought you back to life, but you’ve got to get yourself back on your feet.” Because although Jesus makes it possible for you to walk out of the tomb he won’t make you walk out of the tomb. Each of us has to join God in his work and put our own feet on the floor, hoist ourselves up and follow Jesus’ voice out of our dead place.

And when we finally find ourselves back in the land of the living it is still important for us to listen to what Jesus has to say to us, it seems it is the same thing he said to Lazarus. “Now take off the grave clothes and be free. Be done with the dead life that has you wound up so tight, confined and captive. Come and let your arms swing free. Come and feel the wind on your face and be done with the stench of death. Come and feel the road under your feet, love in your heart and the kingdom on your lips, “Jesus is alive. He is alive indeed.”

Letting Go of the Words and Holding onto the Truth

I often joke with people that I came out of the womb speaking. I love words and I love the way they live together on a page and in the spoken word. I love that Jesus’ other name is “the Word” and I am fascinated with the fact that in the beginning God spoke things into existence. I love words and I often use more of them than I need to simply because I don’t want a single word to feel left out or rejected.

However, as I sat down to write an entry for Holy Week I began to realize that the truth can sometimes get lost in the midst of words as well. Or as I once heard Os Guinness say, “We must be careful about the inflation of words. With so many words on the market each one is decreasing in value.” And so this week, the most important week in the life of a follower of Jesus Christ, I will use less words in the hope that each retains its true value and that the truth doesn’t get lost in the text.

Following the cues of my contemporaries my message comes in under 140 characters. A Holy Week includes: Love that washes, chooses, suffers, forgives, conquers and gets up early on Sunday to enlist others to do the same.

Practicing Silence

I remember as a child watching The Sound of Music. I loved that movie and I loved Maria, the nun-turned-nanny, who was always breaking the rules. In the movie she makes a statement that I have resonated with since I was a child. Right after she has said too much, right after she knows she should have held her tongue, she says with great repentance in her voice, “I'm far too outspoken, it's one of my worst faults.”

I completely resonate with this quote. I’m not saying there is never a time to speak because scripture clearly states that, “There is a time to be silent and a time to speak” (Ecclesiastes 3:7). And we know from the Word of God that as much as it’s good to be able to hold your tongue it’s also important to be able to speak the truth in love (Ephesians 4:15). And throughout the pages of the Bible we are all called to give testimony, to bear witness, to prophesy and to be the voice of the voiceless. But has anyone else ever felt like they open their mouths a bit too much? Like there have been times when silence would have been a better response than speaking? Can you think of a time you wanted to take words back?

In Isaiah 53:7, which prophesies about Jesus last days we hear that like a lamb to the slaughter he would not open his mouth. And in Matthew 26-27 we find the prophecy comes true as Jesus refuses to defend himself against wrongful accusations, as he permits people draw their own conclusions without fighting back and as he simply lets his sacrifice speak for itself and it says, “the governor who had him on trial was amazed.”

In our culture of countless words and immediate rebuttal I am just as amazed. It seems these days that before an accusation is fully tweeted a response is already typed out, as soon as one side makes a statement the other has an army to refute it. But, when false witnesses spoke against Jesus he remained silent. When Jesus was accused he gave no answer. When testimony was given against him he made no reply.

This part of the journey toward the cross is one of the most difficult because it only happens when we trust both our life and our reputations to God, which is difficult for most of us because we don’t spend enough time with God to trust him and we seek most of our affirmation for the world. And so as we continue the journey toward the cross I want to challenge you to step away and spend some time with the One who says to his children, “You are my beloved” so that then you could risk the world not loving you.

And how do we do that? How do we come away with Jesus so that we can learn to respond to God’s call with a willing and loving silence? We can start with a few moments at the beginning and end of each day. We can take advantage of “little solitudes”, the tiny snatches of time that are often lost to us as we walk from the car to the store. We can leave our cell phone off and we can lay in bed in the morning for a few minutes before our brains take off. We can find a restful place and be with God, he may speak or he may not, but in the silence you will be together. And hopefully, eventually you will set aside larger blocks of time, a few hours or even a few days, to withdraw totally from noise, activity and the ongoing responsibilities that you face on a regular basis. And perhaps then God will become a voice that is louder than the world and louder than your own.

And then one day perhaps God will begin to give you practical opportunities to practice silence out of a sacrificial love for others! Perhaps after you’ve learned to trust God with your life and reputation you will be able to let someone cut in front of you in the checkout line or on the freeway while you simply offer a smile or a quiet prayer from a glad heart. Perhaps you will learn to let others speak before us in a conversation or a meeting or listen to a perspective other than yours. Or maybe you will learn to be a companion in grief rather than trying to find a solution for it. And if you spend enough time with God you may even find you can do menial tasks without saying a word to draw attention to our service because God’s attention is enough for you. And if you keep resting in God’s presence you may even find that in a disagreement you could let Jesus defend your reputation and like Jesus you will be able to turn the other cheek and perhaps one day even bless those that curse you.

And so today I offer an odd invite. Quit listening to me and to come into the presence of God and listen to Him. Perhaps then you will find you have less to say.

 

Leave people better than you find them

On Monday evening I lowered myself into a middle seat at the back of the airplane and introduced myself to the woman sitting in the aisle seat as my husband found his middle seat one row behind me. There was no reason for my husband and me to be on a flight to Washington D.C. on Monday night. But due to the snowstorm that swept through the Central Plains our direct flight from Denver to Chicago on Sunday evening had been cancelled and with an endless list of standby passengers waiting for the few coveted seats we decided to seek alternatives. What we came up with wasn’t glamorous but it got us airborne and traveling east to Washington D.C. with the hopes of catching another flight that would get us back west to Chicago.

Within an hour of taking our seats my husband had taken off his headphones and given them to his seatmate because the older gentleman sitting beside him wanted to listen to music and had a broken jack in his armrest. As I glanced back I saw that my husband was watching the movie with no sound and the older man was resting his eyes peacefully. And within an hour I had entered into deep conversation with my seatmate about how valuable she was to God and my seatmate who was a bit more vocal than my husband’s traveling partner had proclaimed, “God sent you to me!” and had leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek.

Our techniques for proclaiming good news are very different. If my husband sees a person in need of assistance he cannot resist stepping in and if I notice in conversation a need for truth or encouragement the words are often out of my mouth before I can think twice. Deeds and words both offered in the hopes that the people we find ourselves sitting next to will be in better shape when we leave than when we first sat down next to them.

It’s an easy goal. Leave people better than you find them.

In Acts 3, Peter and John encounter a crippled beggar sitting outside the temple. The beggar, who had been crippled for 40 years is hopeful for money but instead Peter reaches out his hand and says to the man, “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” And the man rose to his feet for the first time in 40 years and began walking, jumping and praising God. Leave people better than you find them.

Acts 4 goes on to describe Peter and John as unschooled, ordinary men whose one unique trait is that they had been with Jesus (v13). And perhaps therein lies the key to leaving people better than you find them. You don’t need to be extraordinary or schooled but perhaps we are more likely to accomplish this simple task if we spend some time with Jesus, who will invariably point out the needs in the seat next to us, teach us the words for the traveling partner beside us and encourage us to extend a hand to the person in front of us.

In Christ...

In Christ. In Him. In the One. In Him. In Christ. In Him. In Christ. In Christ. In Him.
from Ephesians 1:3-14

Do you sense a pattern here? In his letters to the new movement of people who are following Jesus, 164 times Paul uses the phrase in Christ, it is the most significant part of his teaching. And when Paul uses the phrase in Christ, he is not just wanting people to believe in Christ, rather he is wanting them to move beyond words and actually live in Christ. Like Jesus, Paul isn’t so interested in a bunch of words babbled about what you believe instead Paul wants to know where you live because you don’t have to be a sociology professor to know that where we choose to live effects our lives.

Our geography often determines what kind of education we receive, what we believe, who we root for, what we consume and how we talk? The Apostle Paul says, if we claim Jesus Christ as our Savior that our conversion is an active geographical decision to move from darkness to light, from Satan to God, from a former neighborhood into a community called Christ. Conversion is a change of address which means that in the same way we have chosen to live in Chicago we chose to live in Christ. And because we have made the move, Jesus is the now the environment that shapes us; his spirit, his values, his character, his history, his purpose should now define our experience.

Now what is interesting to me is that in much of the church throughout most of its existence there has been little talk about conversion being a change of address. In fact, more often the church has proclaimed that you can live where you want and Jesus will just come to you. In churches, at conferences and on street corners the church has proclaimed, “All you have to do is invite Jesus to come into your life and he will join you in your neighborhood.” And how many of us have heard a pastor or evangelist say, “With every head bowed and every eye closed just invite Jesus to come into your heart. Nobody even has to know, so don’t be afraid to raise your hand and just invite that little Jesus right into your big heart.”

Truth is most of the church has a one-inch-tall Jesus that you invite into your big life, a little Jesus that you can place within you so that your life is the environment that Jesus lives in. And because Jesus now takes his cues from us, and because so many of us our comfortable with our lives as they are, we have changed the goal of conversion from a geographical move to the receiving of a passport for our final move to heaven.

But I want to tell you that inviting Jesus into your heart so that you are able to get into heaven, this kind of language about Jesus being in us so that we can go to be with him in heaven is relatively rare in the Bible, especially in the letters written by Paul. Only five times Paul mentions Jesus Christ making a move to live in you. 164 times Paul says you are going to pack up and move your life so that you take up residence in Christ.

We are not meant to be the town that Jesus lives in. We are not designed to be the environment from which Jesus takes his cues. We are not the air he breathes. A one-inch-tall Jesus is not Biblical. When we make a decision to become a follower of Jesus Christ we follow him to his neighborhood and we move into his environment where we are surrounded, encompassed, and defined by His presence. And when we move to Christ everyone around us should notice that we’re not living where we used to live. You simply can’t move to Christ with every head bowed and every eye closed and nobody noticing.

And in Christ we will acquire some new neighbors who we are going to love as much as we love ourselves. And for that reason, in Christ there are no turf wars. In Christ there are no good neighborhoods or bad neighborhoods. In Christ there is no “white flight,” refugee camps, or reservations, because in Christ we have decided live together.

You see, when you and I assent to believing in “one-inch-tall, passport Jesus,” then Jesus is one-inch-tall inside of you and Jesus is one-inch-tall inside of me and this creates another problem; there is now a whole lot of our own flesh between the Jesus in me and the Jesus in you. And with so much “me” and so much “you” there is bound to be conflict. But if we understand that when we were converted we chose to make the move to live in Christ together and if we claim that Jesus is the flesh that holds all of our flesh together, perhaps in Christ we might even move beyond being neighbors to understanding that we are actually part of the same family and maybe when the conversion is complete we might dare to claim the good news that we are all necessary parts of the body of Christ.

A Flinchy Disciple No More

I had this dog once. I got him from the Humane Society that was located on Trenton road. I named my dog Trenton. When I got him, he was a dog who flinched. He was a dog who cowered down every time I would raise my hand. Even though I had never hurt him, he was a dog who flinched. I know why he did this—he did it because he had come to believe that masters hit. And so Trenton flinched. At first it happened anytime I raised my hand. It didn’t matter if I had planned to pet him or feed him. It didn’t matter if he’d done nothing wrong at all. Because for Trenton, a raised hand was always followed by a flinch, because he had only known a master who hit, a master who wrongly believed that real power was about domination and fear, that real power was about making sure someone or something less powerful knows their place and knows who’s really in charge.

I was a disciple who spent my early years around God by responding in the exact same way. I was a disciple who flinched. Do you know what I mean? I was a disciple who cowered every time I was made aware of God’s power. Even though God had never personally hurt me, I was a disciple who flinched. Do you want to know why I did this? Probably the same reason many of you do, because I had learned from many well-intentioned Sunday school teachers and preachers that God liked to use his power to show his people “who’s boss." I came to believe this because so many of the other followers of God who were in my life also seemed to believe in a God who liked to judge more than he liked to love. And so I flinched a lot in church because from what I was hearing and what others testified to, God was a God with a rule book, a powerful master who had a short fuse…especially if you messed up.

Now my flinching wasn’t as obvious to everyone else as Trenton’s flinch had been. It happened more in my gut, but it was no less real. In the beginning the flinch happened anytime God’s authority was invoked. It didn’t matter if the sermon was about God’s love or provision, it didn’t matter if I’d done nothing wrong at all. For me, the raised hand of God was always followed by a flinch because in church I learned about a master who had slaves, a master who wasn’t afraid to use force to get his followers back in line.

I was a disciple who had wrongly believed that a relationship with my Lord meant me knowing my place and me being mindful that the One in charge could do anything he what he wanted with me. In fact when I first starting dating my husband I said proudly, “I think you may know the love of the Father, but I know the fear of the Lord.” And I said that as if knowing how to cower was somehow a higher level of discipleship than knowing how to take the outstretched hand of a Father who loved me as his own child no matter how often I rolled around in the dust and dirt, as if having a flinch in my gut was a more faithful level of discipleship than knowing the embrace of One who loved me and who kept loving me even when I was unfaithful to him.” Somehow I had come to think of love as “Christianity Light” and fear as “Advanced Discipleship” and so I continued to flinch.

When I was living as a flinchy disciple, the season of Lent was never good news to me. Lent was just a season where I tried once again to be obedient enough to appease a God who wasn’t so pleased with me. Lent was a season where I tried to give God sacrifices and offerings in the hopes of gaining a bit of affection from him. “Here, take my chocolate, my coffee, take my free time, take my boyfriend, and take everything I love. Then will you be satisfied God, when I have given you everything I love?” Lent was a season where I knew I would fail and so I was flinchy the whole forty days just biding my time waiting for the consequences of failing once again.

But then somewhere along the way, somewhere in my mid-twenties, I began to hear God wooing me. It was almost like he was humming over my life, like a lullaby when a parent is trying to calm a child, like when a beloved hums the music of a favorite love song when they think about the one they love. It wasn’t very loud at first; in fact, sometimes if I’m honest I often felt like I was making it up, like it was just wishful thinking about a love so tender and so unconditional that it would cure all flinching.

But then I would shake it off and tell myself that God has standards to uphold, things he’s hoping I don’t screw up, and a powerful hand if I do. I would shake it off and speak “truth” to myself and say, “Quit sitting around longing for the love of 'Christianity light'...that’s for liberals...buck up and live in fear you 'advanced disciple.'"

But the humming kept coming and after a while it became easier to imagine the One to whom the hum belonged. Sometimes when I was having a difficult day feeling beat up by the world and honestly beat up by myself I would follow the sound of his voice and it would lead me like a the Pied Piper leading a small child right into His lap. And there I would curl up and he would rock me until the flinching was finished, he would hold me until I was convinced he wanted me there.

Or the humming would come as I went to lay my head on my pillow at night weary and tired, often feeling too tired to do one more thing and so often still feeling like I hadn’t done enough. And as my head rested on the pillow, I would follow the humming and soon find that my head wasn’t on a pillow at all, but in Jesus’ lap, and as he stroked my hair I would hear him say to my flinchy spirit, “It is enough for today. I’ll take it from here. You rest now. I’ve got it. I’ve got you.” And the flinching started fading.

Everything changed when I began to know the tender, unconditional, powerful love of God. Everything changed when I began to live as a beloved disciple, when I began to hear God say to me, “Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone” (Song of Solomon 2:10-11). I began to understand that Lent wasn’t to appease a God who wasn’t pleased with me but rather it was to learn how to be present with a God, a God who loves me whether I please him or not. And I began to realize that God wasn’t interested in taking everything I loved so he could prove that he was powerful but rather God was interested in me getting rid of everything that kept me from understanding that His love was more powerful than all things.