Cliff Jumping

This past summer I did something I had never done before. I went cliff jumping… well, at least the southern Indiana version of it. My wife and I have friends who have access to an abandoned stripper pit that is perfect for such an activity. (For those of you not from coal mining country, let me assure you that a stripper pit has nothing to do with topless dancers! Just think: long, narrow, deep lake with high, steep rock walls on each side.) Those who know me well know that I get basically zero enjoyment out of anything that has to do with getting wet, but there is also an adventurous side of me, and so the opportunity to climb around on rocks, shimmy up trees, and rely on loosely anchored vines to “safely” glide from one place to the next on the side of a steeply inclined rocky surface before jumping two or three stories down like a crazy person was enough incentive for me to put up with getting wet.

So… I went along, and IT WAS AWESOME! I had a blast. It was incredibly cool, after a really challenging climb up the side of the rock wall, to look down at the twisted, crisscrossed path I took to get to my jumping point and realize, “Yeah, I just conquered that!”

But I quickly learned two things. First, I learned that it is a way more intimidating to stand at the top and look down than it was to look up from below. Next, I learned that once you’re at the top you really don’t have much of a choice about what to do next. So you can hem and haw, fret and fuss, and freak out all you want, but unless you plan on living the rest of your life standing on that one foot square ledge 30 feet above the water below, sooner or later you are going to have to jump. After all, the purpose of cliff jumping isn’t just to get to the top. The purpose is to get to the top AND JUMP! All of the courage-mustering and fear-facing, the testing and grabbing and stepping your way up, all of that is for the express purpose of standing up on the ledge, looking down, and taking that oh-so-exhilarating plunge into the cool waters below. So what do you do? You take a deep breath, bend your knees just enough to spring back up, and you go for it!

Over the last few weeks I have been thinking that we often have a lot of opportunities for cliff jumping—the proverbial kind—in life, and Michelle and I have been faced with a big one recently. You see, in a lot of ways we have spent the better part of the last 18 months grabbing, pulling, and stepping our way up the side of this big rock cliff in front of us. Even without knowing what the eventual destination looked like, we have been working our way up, hoping our view of the top becomes a little more clear with each move. And that’s just what happened. As little by little we made our way higher, bits and pieces of the picture began to come together, and we found ourselves become more and more certain of God’s leading. As we pushed upward, with each grasp of the sandstone rock we were able to more clearly see his plan unfolding. Then, after what seemed like an exhausting journey, we made it to the top. In our case, the top came in the form of a formal call being issued, a job offer being presented.

Then… the time came for the decision (*cue dramatic sound effect here*). Though the answer couldn’t have been clearer to us, it was anything but easy. We spent a lot of time thinking of all we would give up, all we would leave behind, all it would cost in terms of dollars and relationships and stress and change, all of the things that may never be the same… and at the very same time we were thinking of all we would gain, all we would get in terms of new opportunities and relationships and experiences. And as I said before, we knew the point of the exercise, the purpose of the journey, wasn’t just to get to the top. So next thing you know we were bending our knees ever so slightly and pushing off, all the way to Albuquerque, NM. (That’s a 1,216 mile jump. Just in case you’re curious. Which you probably aren't.)

I’d be lying if I said we aren’t the least bit nervous. Or sad. Or scared. But I’d also be lying if I said we weren’t super excited. And joyful. And confident that we are doing exactly what God is calling us to do, following the path he has set before us, and appreciating all of the pieces he has been putting in place over a long period of time to prepare us and to make it all possible.

So yeah… we’re moving to Albuquerque. 

It's been quite a journey!

If you would have asked me last June what my expectations were for the next year and a half, never in a hundred thousand lifetimes would I have accurately guessed the journey my life would take over the next 15 months. I would have suggested that you were straightjacket-in-a-padded-room crazy if you would have suggested that there was even the slightest possibility that:

1. I would feel God call my wife and  me to step away from a church we helped launch, that we loved, and that we had devoted ourselves to for five amazing years. 

2. We would actually have the guts to be obedient to God’s call, even when I had no job, no plan, and no clue what the future would look like.  

3. I would end up driving 150 miles each day to work on my family’s farm, continuously considering the question of whether or not I want to start the process of taking over the business. 

4. I would suffer through some of the darkest, most difficult, painful, frustrating weeks--or maybe months--I have ever experienced, struggling for any inkling of direction or purpose. 

5. I would come through on the other side renewed and refreshed and better equipped for whatever the future might hold, with a ton of new perspective and a reignited passion for ministry. 

6. That because of #5 I would actually be thankful for #4. 

Needless to say, it’s been an interesting journey.

I’ve learned a lot.

I’ve grown a lot.

I think I’ve matured a lot.

And I think a big part of that learning and growing and maturing is because I’ve also:

Prayed a lot.

Sought God a lot.

Focused on my relationship with God just because he’s my savior and my friend and not because it’s my job… a lot.

When I stepped away from my church I did so with excitement and eager anticipation about whatever spectacular and amazing and life-changing adventure God had in store for us. I couldn’t wait to figure out where we would be going or what we would be doing. Those questions consumed me. Maybe we would head to some exciting far-off country as missionaries. Maybe we would help lead some awesomely awesome church that was changing the world one person at a time. Or maybe… I would wait… and wait… and wait… and seemingly nothing would happen. At all.

As time marched on and those questions remained unanswered, the excitement and anticipation graciously stepped aside to make way for anxiety, frustration, disappointment, disillusionment, and despair to take center stage. Though I was still trying to trust in God, a part of me felt like he had let me down. I was thinking, “You spoke and I obeyed. I held up my end of the bargain. What’s the deal?!” It felt like a bait and switch and God was saying, “Oh, just kidding. Gotcha!”

But  here’s the thing… You see, I was so obsessed with the endpoint that I completely missed the fact that maybe, just maybe, all of this had almost nothing to do with the destination and EVERYTHING to do with the journey. I was expecting something spectacular and amazing and life-changing, and I felt like I got something different. But as I look back I can see now that even though I might not describe the journey as spectacular or amazing, it has absolutely been life-changing.

And it was just exactly what I needed.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Whatever it is that God does have it store... I wasn’t ready for it in February. Or May. Or September. God had work to do in me first. He STILL has work to do. The truth, though, is that there may have been no other way for me to learn what I’ve learned, grow how I’ve grown, and mature how I’ve matured without going through all I’ve gone through and experiencing all I’ve experienced. I couldn’t see that then, but I can see it so clearly now.

I’m still waiting for a clear sense of direction or a sure answer to those destination questions, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t bug me at all. But as I realize all the ways God has been working in me, changing me, I am thankful that even though I don’t yet know the destination, all along God’s grand purpose may have been the journey.

“I am trusting you, O Lord, saying, ‘You are my God!’ My future is in your hands.” ~ Psalm 31:14-15a NLT

Positively Positive about being Positive

Have you ever met somebody who is always positive, always looking on “the bright side,” always able to point out the silver lining (What the heck is silver lining anyway? The closest thing to silver lining I can think of is the silky, shiny lining on the inside of a casket, and let’s face it, that’s not a very positive thing to think about at all.), and who never seems to admit that anything about any situation could ever, possibly be even slightly less than perfect? Sure you’ve met someone like that. We all have. The real question is whether or not you managed to keep from hitting them and saying, "Yo! Look on the bright side of that!"

Those of you who know me well know that I tend to be more of… a realist. That is, of course, the best way to be. (I say that only slightly tongue in cheek and with only a little sarcasm.) With my endless free time, though, I've been watching the slick, smiling Joel Osteen on TV, and I’ve decided that I need to start trying to live My Best Life Now. That undoubtedly has to start with being a little more positive. With that in mind, I’ve come up with a very positive list.


The Top Nine Benefits of Being Unemployed
(Because I couldn’t think of 10)

9. It’s like having unlimited vacation… though it is unlimited UNPAID vacation. Minor detail.

8. I don’t contribute to the statistics showing the loss of productivity during March Madness.

7. Instead of freaking out and frantically fretting, “How can I manage to get everything done today?” I can ask, “How can I manage to find something to get done today?”

6. Two words: Online Gaming.

5. Two more words: Daytime Television! Ummm… maybe not.

4. Knowing when my wife leaves for work at 7:30 that I can sleep till noon and nobody will even know. Seriously, I don’t sleep till noon… but I COULD.

3. I pay less taxes.

2. Shower? What shower?

1. It helps me appreciate the blessings of having a good, honest, meaningful job, even when it is difficult or frustrating.


Have you ever been sans paycheck? What positive(s) did you find in it?

Untitled (Really, that's the title!)

One of the questions bouncing around my head lately as I try and figure out what the future looks like has to do with my identity as a “pastor.” Is a pastor really a pastor without a church to pastor? Is a minister without a place to minister really a minister at all? If a tree falls in a woods and no one is there to hear it… oh, sorry.

Really, this is something I’ve been mulling over for several years now. I’ve wondered if the whole idea that some people are called and set aside for this special, weird assignment of being a 40-50/hour a week paid staff person in a local church is as much a biblical construct as it is one born of convenience and tradition. That’s not to say it’s wrong, just that maybe it’s not grounded in scripture.

As someone who has had the great privilege of having his livelihood provided for by the generosity and sacrifice of people in local churches, it may sound weird to say, but allow me to suggest that I am no more called than you are. We are ALL called to follow Jesus and live our lives as fully, radically devoted followers of Christ, and I think it’s tragic that we reserve that language of call for the “professionals” in “full-time ministry.” It seems to me that our work (whatever that happens to be), our kids sports leagues and school activities, and our every day comings and goings are to be our full-time ministry, done for the glory of God and the growth of the Kingdom. Certainly God calls individuals to do certain things, but that’s just it. God calls more than just some of us; he calls all of us, and he calls all of us to ministry full-time.

It’s at least partially because of that conviction that I’ve never been much for having some ministry-related title affixed to my name. I get some crazy looks when I tell people this, but I have never liked for people to call me Reverend Bunting or Pastor Geoff or anything of the sort. I have been and will always be just Geoff, no title needed. My identity is follower of Jesus. My occupation is pastor… or was… or… I don’t know. But my point is, we don’t typically go around referring to everyone else by their occupation. “Hey there, Banker Bob! How’s it going, Construction Worker Carl? Nice day, isn’t it, Wal-Mart Greeter Wilma? How’s life, Unemployed… Uma?” And even as I’m preaching or teaching or doing whatever it is that pastors do, I’m likely no more serving God out of the calling he’s given me than many of the other people I see on Sunday mornings; it may just look different. Up until a month ago I have been serving as a pastor. That is certainly a part of who I am. But there is more that identifies me than the fact that I draw a paycheck from a church… especially since I no longer draw a paycheck from a church… or any place else. Minor detail.

As I’ve been thinking and praying and reading over the past few weeks I’ve been realizing that sometimes I get so caught up in what God has called me to DO (whatever that might just happen to be) that I forget who he has called me to BE. Feel free to disagree, but my identity has never been as a pastor, a student, a whatever. For the past 14 years of my life I have been a follower of Jesus first and foremost. That is my identity. That is who I am. Everything else is secondary.

So whatever I do for a career and however I draw a paycheck, I will be serving in ministry, and I will be serving in a church; I may just not be drawing a paycheck from a career of serving in a church. And if that is what God leads me to do, I’m okay with that. Because regardless of what I do, my identity is as a Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ. And beyond that, no title is needed.

P.S. I've included links here and here to a couple of blog posts that really hit home with me about this same issue.

Did you pray about it?

That’s a fair question to ask a follower of Christ whenever he or she is facing a tough decision, isn’t it? I think so. In fact, it may be a question we don’t ask enough. After all, if we are struggling to know what to do or what to choose or which way to go, why wouldn’t we want to seek help from the author of all wisdom and knowledge who loves us and is the source of our purpose and direction? Seriously. And the truth is, a lot of times we just don’t do that? So if as we are on the threshold of some major, life-changing decision and seeking the wise counsel of a trusted friend, a gentle reminder to humbly and honestly seek God with every last bit of ourselves like the fate of the world depends on it may be the best advice a person can give.

But most of the time when somebody has asked me that question, it hasn’t been pre-decision as a way of guiding me to find my answer from the all-knowing God of the universe. It has been post-decision as a way of saying, “What they heck are you thinking?” Have you ever had that happen?

Now, granted, the question itself isn’t unreasonable, especially when it’s asked to someone who generally desires to follow Jesus. But most of the time when I’m asked that question, especially post-decision, it’s not really a question at all; it’s a statement of disapproval. It’s a roundabout way of saying, “I wouldn’t have done it that way. I don’t approve. And I think you’re an idiot.” But when it’s couched in that oh-so-spiritual-sounding phrase, the implication is, “There is NO WAY you’ve actually prayed about this because I really don’t believe God would lead you in that direction. I haven’t actually prayed about it myself, but we’re talking about you here.”

Those of you who know me well know that I tend to be a little… unconventional sometimes. I’m not much for conformity and I really don’t care too much if people think I’ve lost my mind, so I’ve heard THE QUESTION and others like it more than a few times from semi-well-intentioned people. What I’m learning more and more all the time, though, is how much of an unconventional nonconformist Jesus was, at least when compared to the prevailing ideas about what was normal in the Near East in those days. (And even more so when compared to the prevailing ideas about what is normal in the West in these days.) Not to compare myself to Jesus, because that would be, well… not much of a comparison at all, like dividing the ratio of penguins to jazz by the square root of pink; it just doesn’t compute, but seeing how misunderstood (and even hated) Jesus was by the religious people who you would think would be in his corner gives me a little hope that just maybe I’m on the right path at least part of the time. Because one guaranteed way to be misunderstood by both religious and irreligious people alike is to forsake “normal” life for a life of radical faith and obedience to Christ. And that is the life I desperately want to live.

So next time you see me after I’ve done something stupid, or when I’m in the process doing something stupid, or when I’m about to do something stupid, or when I’m thinking about doing something stupid…so pretty much just whenever you see me next…I give you permission to question me about it. Chances are, I may have done/be in the process of doing/be about to do/be thinking about doing something completely idiotic that every single person on the planet could look at and think, “What an idiot! What’s he thinking!?!” But maybe, just maybe, I’ll be following Jesus.

Can you hear me now?

I hate one-sided conversations. Maybe it’s just me, but there is very little more annoying than having to feign interest by plastering on a half-hearted smile and semi-engaged stare-into-nothingness while your “conversation” partner is experiencing diarrhea of the mouth. We’ve all been there, and it’s not fun.

But you know what is equally gut-wrenching?

Those times when the person across the table just sits there in silence, barely saying a word, where your best efforts fail to draw out even a three syllable mumble. You feel like you’re talking to a brick wall, or a tree, or a tree surrounded by a brick wall. I can be awkward and uncomfortable, or frustrating, or just bang-your-head-against-a-wall-to-add-some-excitement DULL. My guess is we’ve all been there before, too.

So what do you do when the silent person sitting across the table from you is none other than God himself? Hmm. That sounded like a good question, but now that I’ve asked it the answer seems obvious: you wait. He is God after all, and it’s not like you or I have a whole lot of leverage to pressure him into a response. But seriously, that’s what I’ve been struggling with for the past few weeks. If you’ve read some of my recent posts you know that for several months I felt a very clear sense of God leading me to take a huge step of faith away from the church I love (that also just happened to be my source of income) without having any clue whatsoever what the next step was. Was it scary? Sure! Like walking barefoot through a well-used Bessy Bingo playing field in the dark. But it was also exciting because I was certain that God was calling me to do it and that he would show me the next step. That was January 31.

The next day (naturally) was February 1. And everything changed. Well, ok, at least one thing changed.

I don’t know if Verizon dropped my call or what the deal is, but it has seemed that God has been rather silent since then. For illustration purposes, let me show you a comparison.

January 31 = Crystal clear connection.
February 1 = Silence. Nothing. Nada. Nessuno.

So as I’m trying to plan for the future, even the short-term future, it’s tough because not only do I not feel especially called to do anything in particular, I also don’t feel especially called to do nothing. So it sort of feels like trying to swim through a giant lake of tapioca pudding… minus the inability to breath tapioca.

And I’d be lying it I said it wasn’t testing me faith a little. I have found myself thinking, “God, really? What the heck. All of that build-up for this? Talk about anticlimactic! Will you just give me some direction already?” And as I’ve taken a step back, I’ve pictured God saying, “Really, that’s all you’ve got? Three weeks and you’re already flaming out?”

And that got me thinking about the Israelites. After centuries of praying for freedom, God answered their prayers and they launched out of captivity in Egypt like a jet-propelled hippo… only to come plummeting back down to earth as doubt and impatience and a lack of trust caused them to turn their backs on God and take matters into their own hands. Thplat! (That’s my attempt at describing what happens when a previously jet-propelled hippo hits the ground. It’s a combination of “thud” and “splat.”) If you remember their plight, a two year journey to the amazing Promised Land that God had been preparing for them became a forty year saga in which an entire generation had to die out before the promise became a reality. It was an ugly scene… not unlike an exploding hippo.

Think of what their lack of trust cost them. In a word: everything! As I’ve been pondering this I’ve started thinking that maybe the greatest test of faith isn’t obeying God when the path is clear and the call is certain and you feel inseparably close to him, but maybe it’s trusting God and believing God when the path ahead isn’t clear and the call isn’t certain and it seems like God is silent and distant. Maybe the real proof of a strong faith is being willing to continue grappling for answers and seeking God in the face of uncertainty, in the midst of impatience, and in the presence of doubt, when the sum total of what we have seen and experienced and know carries us through the rough patches, and the depth of our faith holds strong through the ebb and flow of our feelings and emotions.

Interestingly enough, it's been during the most challenging and even spiritually dead-feeling times in my life that I have grown the most. I'm not sure why that is, but it's true for me. More on that another time, though.

PS. Watch out for falling hippos.

Faking Honesty

I know, there hasn’t been a blog post for a while. I’ve been busy… for being unemployed. Really, I have been busy. But that’s not why there haven’t been any blog posts. You see, I’ve been writing blog posts. I just haven’t been posting them. I know, that doesn’t make sense when the purpose of writing blog posts is to post them online and let other people read them. That’s kind of what bloggers do. That’s what makes them bloggers. I guess maybe that means I’m a crappy blogger. But the fact that I’m blogging now has to count for something, right?

Just to let you in on a little secret, I guess the reason I haven’t posted any of the blog posts I’ve written lately is because, well, they’re too honest. And I’m just not sure I want to be that honest. So until I can find something to say that is more comfortable, less risky, and ultimately a less honest level of honest, I just won’t say much. In other words, until I can find a way to convincingly feign honesty (which would seem to be an oxymoron), I’m not going to risk being really, truly honest. Faking it is so much easier.

I remember times when I’ve been leading a small group Bible study or something and I really want the group to go deeper and learn to trust and be candid with each other. How do I try to get this to happen? As part of the discussion I share with the group some secret or fault or struggle from my own life as a way of modeling transparency and honesty and trust. The thing its, the secret or fault or struggle from my own life typically isn’t something that is a big deal to me in any way, shape, or form, but I play it up like it’s a big deal because I’m trying to set an example. That makes total sense, right? I’m basically pretending to be open and honest. It’s feigned honesty… which really isn’t honesty at all. And the truth is, most of us are quite accomplished at this sort of thing. What we are generally NOT good is, is true transparency, true openness, true honesty.

And you know what? It’s impossible to have true community and true friendship without those things. How are we ever going to really know each other deeply and do life together with authenticity if all of us are continually running around faking it? (That’s a rhetorical question. The answer is implied.)

Now, I’m not saying the Internet is necessarily the place to live this out. There are some things with which the nameless masses don’t need to be privy. But there has to be SOMEONE (or someoneS) who we are willing to share everything with, even the last 5%. As it is, we typically only share the stuff that we really don’t need to share while the stuff that is absolutely eating us up inside and even threatening to destroy our lives remains hidden, just out of sight, covered with a fake smile and a thin veneer of false-spirituality, like a smelly, festering sore being covered with a Hello Kitty Band-Aid.

But here’s the thing: That last 5% that lurks in the dark recesses of our lives only becomes more powerful the harder we try to keep it hidden. So it continues tearing us apart from the inside out because we are so afraid of the consequences of having our dirty laundry aired and having our dark secrets brought out into the light. But here’s the thing about deep, dark secrets that are brought out into the light: They cease being deep dark secrets. They get a little lighter and a little less secret, and because of that, they begin to lose a little of their power over you.

I think that’s why Paul said “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ (Galatians 6:2 NIV).” I don’t know about you, but that verse is hard for me to live out. It’s not hard for me to carry someone else’s burden; it’s hard for me to suck it up and be honest enough to share my burdens with someone else so they can help me carry them. And that needs to stop. So maybe in a few days I’ll throw up a few long-simmering blog posts. Or not. (See, I’m just being honest!)

T minus 5 days... and counting. Does it have to be counting?

Today is Wednesday. It is also the last Wednesday I will be employed by my church. Tomorrow is the last Thursday. Friday is the last Friday. Saturday is… well, you get the idea. This is my last week of work. It’s the last few days until I launch out into this next chapter in my life, whatever that might just happen to be. There is certainly a degree of sadness over all that I’ll be losing—the closeness of a lot of relationships, the ability to help lead a church that I love and that I had a hand in building and shaping, and so many other things. There is also a degree of excitement for whatever the future holds. And then there’s the vomiting. Ok, not real, actual, up-from-the-insides vomiting. Just the kind of stress and worry and “holy crap, I don’t have a job!” sorts of things that make me want to vomit… figuratively speaking, of course.

So, I need a job. And, honestly, I have some concerns about finding one, or at least finding one that will allow me to use my skills/talents/gifts in a way that is even remotely fulfilling. I have concerns about prospective employers understanding how my experience could possibly translate into the “real world.” And, I have concerns about being pigeonholed as a religious fruitcake. I can just imagine an HR person scanning my resume. BS in Business Administration. "Oh, that’s good." Good GPA, graduated in three years! “Oh, excellent.” Masters of Divinity? “What the heck is that?” Eight and a half years working in churches? “Whoa! Heck no!” Then I picture them channeling the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld and screaming, “No job for you!”

I’ve done a lot of talking over the last couple of months about living with radical obedience to Christ and being willing to take major steps of faith without knowing where they lead, and even as I was making the decisions that would force me to step out in faith in a way I hadn’t before, I had a total peace about it all. In fact, for quite a while my lack of freaking out actually freaked me out a little. Ahem. *dramatic pause* Yeah, that was then; this is now. More specifically, that was when I was still working and still drawing a paycheck. This is when I have less than a week to work and one last, single, solitary, lone paycheck coming, after which there will be no more. So, for all of my lack of freaking out over the past few months, I guess I’m making up for it this week. Oh, and then my little friend Doubt has been cuddling up next to me pretty regularly, also. He's quite the faithful companion. “What are you thinking?” he sneers. “What do you possibly have to offer?” he jeers. “You will never be anything!” he taunts. What a great friend, huh?

And I’m thinking, “I’m dealing with all of this junk already, and I’m not even done working yet! What’s it going to be like in two weeks? A month?” Ugh! How shallow is the faith pool I'm swimming in?

So I’ve been reminding myself, “You made this decision for the right reasons—because personal integrity and stewardship made it practical, and because obedience to Christ made it necessary.” And that makes me feel like a little less of an idiot, but it doesn’t make me feel any more employed. And in case you didn’t know, feeling like a little less of an idiot doesn’t pay very well.

But…

Even in the midst of the doubt and frustration, I know that God hasn’t called me to do this for nothing, so he must have a plan. And however big or small that plan might seem, it is HIS plan, and I want to be in on it. So even as I whine and mope and doubt…

I believe Him.

I trust Him.

I wait for Him.

And I put my life in His hands.


Do you ever struggle with doubt (or anything else) that tries to put a put out the fire that God has lit in you?

Church Growth 101, Jesus Style

As a pastor I’m constantly bombarded with information about how to get my church to grow. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. I believe God wants churches to grow, because it’s kind of hard for a church to be very successful at reaching people far from God and not grow, and statistics show that the Church in the West has been stagnant or in decline for some time now, meaning we need all the help we can get. But as I dig into Scripture I’m intrigued by the method of church growth Jesus seemed to model.

If Jesus had a three step plan for growing the Church, it might have looked something like this: Step 1. Say lots of crazy, painfully honest things that make lots of religious people (i.e. the ones who would seem most interested in all things churchy) mad enough to kill you. Step 2. Say lots of crazy, painfully honest things that make most of the irreligious people run the other way like Roadrunner busting it when Wile E. Coyote was in hot pursuit. Step 3. Watch the ragtag handful of nobodies (and believe me, I mean that in the most affectionate way possible), who were passionately devoted in spite of the hardships, grow through the Spirit’s power like rabbits on fertility drugs into a massive movement that is still going strong after a couple thousand years. Check out some of these passages: Luke 12:33, Luke 9:59-62, and Matthew 10:37.

I know what you’re thinking. Surely Jesus didn’t mean for us to take those statements seriously! No way he would really expect any of his followers to leave behind the most important people in their lives to follow him. And that whole bit about selling your possessions and giving the money to the poor? That’s just silly. Nobody would actually do that. Jesus would never ask that from us!

Or would he?

Hmm. What if he really DID mean those things? What if he really WAS serious? What if he had EVERY INTENTION of us living our lives with that kind of radical passion and devotion and obedience?
If hearing those words grates on your ears like the sound of 42,328 sets of fingernails scraping their way down a giant chalkboard, you are not alone. The ears of most of our fellow Americans are ringing in harmony with yours… and, ahem, mine. We don’t like to consider the possibility that Jesus really did maybe, kinda, in a manner of speaking mean what he said… a little… maybe.

Something I’ve been realizing more and more over the past couple of years is just how much thought and work we put into trying to make the Gospel of Jesus Christ more easily digestible. Like running a gristly piece of meat through a tenderizer, we take what Jesus said, run in through the filter of our 21st century American way of seeing the world, and end up with a nice little Americanized version of the Gospel. The only problem with that, though, is… well, what we end up with isn’t really the Gospel at all at that point. But hey, at least it’s tender.

My recent trip to the other side of the world has really opened my eyes to this even farther. Why was it so eye opening? Well, because the brothers and sisters in Christ I got to know there haven’t been domesticated and indoctrinated by the 21st century American version of the Good News (that Jesus loves you and longs to be the missing piece to your American dream without requiring much of anything from you other than nominal church attendance and dropping a few bills in the basket). They never got the memo that Jesus didn’t really mean those things he said, so they are *gasp* living as if he was serious. They don’t try to decipher what Jesus really meant or explain away the harsh, radical nature of Jesus’ teaching. They just live as if the Kingdom of God really is the most important thing there is, worthy of giving up everything for. If only they were more educated, right? Seriously, I’m sure they have their fair share of struggles and plenty of areas where they are weak, but I am amazed by their faith and passion and dedication. Far from a tenderized, easily digestible version of the Gospel, they teach it and live it in all its radical, counter-cultural, everything-must-change-ness. And you know what the result is? The Church is experiencing incredible growth. Kind of like when Jesus tried it back in the day.

A good dose of perspective...

It’s a little after 5:00 AM. I’ve been up since 3:30 and sleep is escaping me. I guess that’s the price I pay for taking a six hour nap, staying up for two hours, and going to bed at 9:00 PM. Ugh! Jetlag! Oh well.

Being as tired as I am from the exhausting trip home (being awake for 48 straights hours and on a plane for about 24 of those tends to affect you in ways you can't imagine unless you've experienced it), I still haven’t had time to process a lot of what I experienced in MM. Truthfully, I think it will take weeks and even months to fully process it. There are a few things on the top of my mind, though, and one is about perspective.

That’s what I have received over the past couple of weeks… a much needed dose of perspective (and several much needed doses of Doxycycline, but that’s just a preventative measure!) One of the thoughts that I’m been ruminating on over the last several days is about fairness. We are so quick to think “That’s not fair” any time something doesn’t go our way or any time someone has something we don’t have. We think somehow we have a right to virtually anything we can dream of, and that if we don’t have it, we are being shortchanged.

When I was in MM, though, I quickly noticed that almost nothing was fair for me. Time and time again I found myself flat out angry over how unfair things were for me. There were so many times when I’ve wanted to shout out, “THAT ISN’T FAIR!” And I would have been justified in doing so, becuase the truth is, a lot of things weren’t fair for me. The difference, though, is that I typically found myself on the opposite side of the fairness equation from where I normally am when I feel this since of injustice. Since I landed in MM, I’ve been thinking…

• It’s not fair that I got to eat these incredible, filling meals with meat, vegetables, rice, soup, and about half the time, ice cream for dessert. I have more food than I can eat while many people in MM and many other countries don’t. Most are happy to have a little white rice to fill their stomachs... for breakfast, lunch, and dinner... if they are lucky. I’m embarrassed by how much I take that for granted.
• It’s not fair that I have so many clothes that I can think about being color coordinated and somewhat in style (I realize my sense of style is subjective. Make of it what you will!) while many people in the world, and in MM, are simply happy to have something to wear.
• It’s not fair that I spent more on souvenirs (reasoning that as inexpensive as things are, how could I not get one more item) than the average MM worker makes in a month.
• It’s not fair that simply happening to be born in one country as opposed to another is the biggest deciding factor on your chance of having a job and making a livable wage, the quality of healthcare you receive, your chances of dying of an easily-preventable disease, your chances of experiencing true hunger, and so many other really important things. Poor people don't tend to give a crap about half the things that consume the thoughts of most of the people reading this blog (all six of you) myself included.

There are so many things that simply aren’t fair, and to be honest, I’m struggling to make sense of it. If I put together every last dollar I have to allow all of the amazing, humble, generous, full-of-life, kids and adults I saw everyday on my trip to enjoy a good meal, it would be a nice gesture, but would anything really be gained in the long run? Would it do anything at all to reduce poverty or end hunger on a bigger scale? If I gave away all of my clothes, I’m sure those who received them would be appreciative, what would anything be gained long term? Would the fairness equation be any more balanced?

 

The more I think about it, I guess maybe the key is sustainability. Clearly, food and clothing and many other needs must be met in the short term. I guess that is where foreign aid from governments as well as churches and other non-profits comes into play. Along with that aid, though, there must be a plan to work towards sustainability apart from the aid. That is where so many of us who feel passionate about helping others fail. We want to drop in and have an experience, do a little here and there, or throw money at a problem we see, but we often stop short of true investment in people and/or projects, so things quickly go back to how they were before.  

 

One of the things that most excites me about the work that is going on in MM through the network I worked with, though, is that even as they meet the very real and critical short-term needs, they are also working towards long-term sustainability. The short term needs are being met, but with long-term bigger picture needs in mind. From an outsiders point of view, it seems like some great things are happening, too! Oh, and as those humanitarian needs are being met, the Church is growing as well… and that is truly something to be excited about.

 

Well, it's 5:47 AM. I think it's time for a nap!