Risa's Beautiful Response

JD: I met Risa when I moved into the apartment buiding where I currently live. Hours after the moving truck pulled away, she and another neighbor were at the door with baked goods and a warm welcome. I came to find out that she was in the last year of a youth ministry job at Walnut Creek Presbyterian Church.  Everything I heard about her was that she was exceptional at that job, and everything I got to see confirmed it.

Risa was someone I would talk to about church, and we would share our frustrations and our hope for more abundant life, both for ourselves and for the church.  Someone observing our conversations might have assumed that my frantic, sarcastic, angry and cynical outbursts suggested greater passion and an immediacy of action as compared to Risa's thoughtful, honest and hopeful responses.

Risa has been in Uganda since September, living fully into her calling for this season of life and setting an example for folks like Jon and I that we desperately need (which reminds me, you can follow her blog here). I asked her to take a look at our blog and to give us her thoughts, and her response absolutely blew me away.  May it bless you as it has me, and may God use stories like Risa's to lead us all more bravely into lives that are about Him and Him alone.

Just finished your blog:

So, I read through all of it with a little girl who I've fallen head over heals for on my right hip. She started to doze, so I came into my bedroom and lay on my bed with her resting on top of me. I read it aloud, as after I read the first one, I thought my friend Kerri might be interested.

This 3-year-old little girl is the one that I took to the doctor this morning. She is malnourished, a total orphan, has malaria, lives in a disgusting home (if you can call it such), and has the cutest smile. Disgustingly enough to admit, I at times do not want to hold sick children for fear that I might become ill. Susan has a horrible cough, and I am risking it all with her- and I feel as if I'm doing the right thing- FINALLY! My lungs are becoming tight and I think I'm catching her ailment. But I genuinely cannot imagine our Savior holding away sick children for His personal health. As I would like to think I can act, in some small way, like Jesus toward these children, I’d better get my act together.

And, as I think of my life and all the children in need, I oftentimes say, “Someday I will adopt orphans.” People ask, “Why not now?” Well, because I’m unemployed (although I have a savings account), I am not married- a kid needs a mom and dad, right? If I ever want to get married I had better not come with baggage- and especially not the baggage of orphan children from another country.

WAIT! WHAT!? A kid with NO parents needs a mom AND a dad???? How about the kid just needing A parent- just needing one person to hold and love them. And, since when does the applause of Man mean more than God??? Since when is Man my god?

So I read your blog, thinking, “Yes. This stuff is right on.” All the while holding an orphan, malnourished little girl who we are going to send back to her dilapidated, disease infested home in a few days because I am unmarried and think that for whatever reason I can’t adopt children.

Am I listening to Satan?

Is Jesus really worth it? Is Jesus worth the risk of people in my church community- the ones who have taught me about Jesus- thinking I am crazy for being financially unstable and single while taking on the task of an orphan when nobody else will care for her?

OR, what about Jesus’ saying that we must sell everything and give to the poor?

YES, JD, you saw the ample CRAP I have all sitting in my friends’ garage in Danville. It took me days to move out of that tiny apartment. Yes, it’s CRAP! So much that will just wither away, and to be honest, 6 months later, I can only list a few things that remain.  Why did I not sell and give away those things? Why am I dreaming about how I want to decorate a home for myself next year?

I haven’t bought a single piece of clothing in more than 6 months. I haven’t bought anything more than a few Christmas gifts and some items to support sponsored childrens’ businesses since September (unless I am forgetting something- and I may be). It has been 6 of the most freedom filled months of my life!! Not once have I wished for a new clothing store (although I am sick of wearing the same few outfits OVER and OVER again- but when I see little butts because kids can’t afford pants, I can hardly complain).

What will all of this look like when I get home? I know I’ll need some new clothes, but to what extent? I know- or so I have been told, that it is okay for us to live as we do in (our wealthy suburb) Walnut Creek. It is okay for us to spend $4 on a beer, drink 2 or 3 of them in a sitting, and not feel bad, because it’s OUR money, right? It’s our hard day’s work we’re drinking the fruits of, when most the world makes less than $2 per day. And, yes, I like beer. And yes, I have a trip down the coast with my sister planned for when I get back. And I think that’s okay. Wealth can be a gift. But, I think we’re also giving each other a mouth full of shit when we justify our own excessive spending. I make excuses for how things are “ministry.” If I don’t spend $100s on… whatever, (you fill in the blank) then I won’t fit in and have any friends and people who don’t know Jesus will think I am even more strange- thus never coming to Christ- etc. etc. etc. ALL to fill my own pleasure.

I justify sin by misinterpreting Scripture?

So, what if I adopted an orphan, gave up my social life (I wouldn’t fit in with my single friends OR my married friends), and became so poor because I was working extra hard to provide for a kiddo (or 2)? What if my family thought I was insane and my church community thought I was doing something wrong by not providing a little one with two parents? What if nobody ever wanted to date me because not only did I come with a kid, but a kid from a different race?

What if I only pleased God?

Would it be worth it?

If this year is any indication then YES!! Yes, it would be worth it 110%. I wouldn’t trade following the Lord here for ANYTHING!!! The joy of the Lord truly HAS been my strength. It’s felt abundant. Then why do I get so scared every time? Don’t I trust it’ll be worth it??

And no, I do not know if I am to adopt an orphan. But, maybe I need to be open to it. Maybe I need to start answering the “Why not now?” question not with the “I’m single.” excuse, but with the “I’ve prayed about it, and it’s not what God is calling me to right now.” answer. Which would mean that first I’d have to honestly pray about it- and what if God did say to adopt? Am I willing to risk that prayer or will I just stay in my excuse out of fear of REALLY knowing?

How long will I read about Jesus’ love for the poor with a child ensconced in my embrace, while agreeing that the Church should do something about them? Talk about a plank in my eye and a speck in the others’?

I’m no different than the pew-dwellers- and I may be worse- simply because sometimes I think I am different.

Who knows?? (Obviously, I don’t (and none of this has been any help in you and Jon figuring out where God is calling you). I’d love to talk more about this and unpack your thoughts a little more...

Risa

Post Script from Jon: Be on the look out for a couple of short follow up posts that attempt to describe what it is we mean when we say "Imperial," "Abundant" and "Church" life.  Also, lurking somewhere in the future is a post about why what we're looking for is NOT asceticism.

A Desert Within Shouting Distance

Previously, we'd asked that you keep in mind we’re not giving up on Church. We aren’t leaving Church behind. I would guess that, having heard us be so hard on Church life, you’re not sure you really believe us. Let us try to explain:

Our problem with Church life is, put another way, that it has let itself become a subset of Imperial life. Many, including us, live our lives as though Church life is only a feature of something more basic, like the “Church app” for the Imperial iPhone. And, like iPhone apps, the nature of this subset gets pre-approved by Imperial life.

Now, lots of people have this insight and, in response, they abandon Church life. Usually, they abandon Church life for a more generic, “liberal” form of Imperial life.

Sometimes people do this, but they want to still call themselves Christians, so they identify Church life with that liberated/progressive feature of Imperial life.

Now, we understand why they do this and we sympathize. Really. Seriously, we understand that impulse. Still, we also think they aren’t going far enough. We can’t just flee Church for life in the Empire, because we feel that what’s wrong with Church life is Imperial life. We need to keep running until we’re not behind the Empire’s fences anymore. We want to keep running until we find ourselves in the Wilderness.

Not to get away from Church life, but to make room for it.

To find a space, a way of life that can accommodate abundance.

We’re not leaving Church for dead. We’re trying to find room for it to stretch its legs.

We think Church just needs some fresh air and it will be back to its old self in no time.

In other words, in order to change Church for the better, we can’t just change how we “do church.” We can’t just re-imagine what we do on Sunday mornings and the occasional Wednesday night. We have to re-imagine every degree on the clock. Every square inch on the calendar. We have to get out of what our friend Jay-Z calls the “Empire State of Mind.” Get out from under the Empire way of life.

I (Jonathan) love talking about John the Baptist. We have some stuff in common. He dressed weird. I dress weird. He had radical dietary habits (locusts, honey). I have radical dietary habits (Straight Edge). Mostly, I love to picture the 1st Century Jewish mothers getting together and gossiping about John the way I know church ladies have gossiped about me:

“He’s such a nice, devout boy, but (oy) his poor mother! I wish he’d be a little more normal so everyone could see what good kid he is. Join the family business. Buy a proper tunic. Live here in town and be a grown mensch.”

Okay, the Yiddish is an anachronism, but you get the idea.

Aside from all of that, we both embrace John the Baptist for a central reason: He had the faith to step out of everyday life for the work God had for him, but he also had the courage to stay within shouting distance of Imperial city life.

If we’re going to try to prepare the way for the Kingdom to show up, we think this is the way to do it: escape to the Wilderness, yet stay within shouting distance.

We feel that, in order for there to be room for the concrete practice of Kingdom living, we need to step outside the bounds of the normal, every-day structures of Imperial life into a kind of ‘wilderness’. We certainly have trepidation. The wilderness is dangerous and living there is hard work. But we are pretty confident it’s the only place with enough room to accommodate Abundant life.

And yet it’s a wilderness that needs to be within shouting distance from the cities of the Empire. We want those stuck gathering straw and making bricks to look up from their work at the rambunctious sound of Abundant life just beyond the edge of the world they know so well. We hope they might think to themselves, “It seems so different, but it’s also not so far away…”

We want to extricate ourselves from the Imperial way of life, but we want to keep close enough that our alternative lifestyle can be heard if one listens closely.

Furthermore, we understand ourselves as in a long line of folks to engage this tension. Sometimes God’s people are doing really well and sometimes God’s people are just a hot mess. There comes, now and again in our shared story, those who see the mess for what it is and start calling for a big turn around, for repentance. Sometimes they get heard. Sometimes they get ignored. Sometimes they (*gulp*) get dead.

But we believe that the ongoing story of God’s work in the world through His people tells of generations that are able to find a place of, first repentance, and then abundant life.

Please believe us about this one thing: We want to be a part of a generation that, by God’s grace, keeps its covenant.

An Interjection

(Below is the first entry by my best friend and co-conspirator, JD.  We've been friends since our very early childhood and I think the world of him.  This is a conversation that wouldn't be where it is without his support and input.  He's been gracious enough to join me as a contributor to this venue. Enjoy his courageously honest account. Godspeed.)

I’d like to begin my interjection by saying that I am so excited to be on this journey. The discussions that I’ve found myself in lately have taken a long-needed turn from cynical to hopeful, due largely to the seriousness with which Jon and I have begun moving past angst and frustration into a process of dreaming with the expectation of acting.

With that sentiment serving to foreshadow the present, I’d like to share about a prolonged season of fear, insecurity, and judgment in my past, often expressed through cynicism, that characterized my engagement with church until recently (and that I still struggle with at times).


Protecting a Status Quo (I didn’t believe in)

I’ve grown up in church, so consequently I’ve sung lots (and lots and lots) of songs about giving my all to God. These are scary songs to take seriously. And I’m realizing as I look back that I have a dirty, twisted subconscious at times. And it has long been working overtime to try and convince my conscious self that I can mean those kinds of words from those kinds of songs without it costing me much.

Put another way, I wanted abundant life that fit perfectly into my world, providing meaning and substance with all the comforts of a self-centered existence.

The most amazing thing about this rationalization is how much it bothered me when I saw it in other Christians. I was somehow able to hate that the church is known for what it’s against rather than what it’s for, all while being against that kind of church and without figuring out what I’m for. I was able to judge Christians for an inwardly focused, self-serving church life without looking for opportunities in my own life to look outward or to serve others. It is amazing what I am able to accomplish when left alone in my mind.

Working to Fix the Mess of Church (as a way of distracting myself from the mess in my heart)

I know faith in Jesus is supposed to cost us everything this world has to offer, and I see now that I have long projected my fear of losing everything onto a church that is sometimes slow to model this way of life. I am coming to understand that much of my anger toward the church was my not wanting to grow up and take ownership for my own faith. I guess I was thinking that if I could just fix church enough, maybe then it could help me lay everything down without it feeling so hard.

Because I don’t want this to be hard for me. I’ve been hoping the church would just do the work for me so I could ride on its coattails.


The Fear of Losing (that which I perceive to be valuable)

The idea of surrendering the things about my life that I know are good (in faith that God has what is best) is still scary to me.

This fear of loss does not make me unique. In fact, it is an incredibly human way to think. As Donald Miller recently wrote in his second blog in a series on commercialism and the church (donmilleris.com)

"Advertisers often play on something psychologists call Loss Aversion. Loss Aversion is an aspect of Prospect Theory, a theory that seeks to determine why people make certain decisions. Loss Aversion suggests people are more motivated to avoid losing something than they are to acquire something new...


...[And] it isn’t only advertisers who play on this psychological phenomenon, it’s politicians and talk-show hosts and nearly anybody trying to convince anybody of anything. How many times have you heard the phrase “take back our country” or, within the church “take a stand for Biblical theology” or this kind of language. The idea is to convince a group of people they are losing ground. This creates a powerful response in whatever demographic feels like they are losing something. Environmentalist motivate us by emphasizing the loss of physical paradise, and the conservative right motivates us by emphasizing a loss of freedom. Regardless of where you stand, we can all agree these are powerful motivating forces."


The Turning Point!


(Or, the place where truth comes in and changes everything.)


(Or, where cynicism turns to hope.)


(Or, where suffering becomes joy.)

As I have looked in the mirror and investigated that which I’ve struggled with for years now, the flaw in my way of thinking about life, about gain, and about loss, is becoming more and more apparent.

Because here is the truth: That which I stand to lose… is nothing.

It is dust. It can be eaten by rust and moths. In a world where God is real and forever, it has a value of 0.

Inversely of course, that which I stand to gain… is everything.

In fact, God has already given it all freely, so the question is really more about how much of it I will choose to accept and experience in this life. Literally everything of any substantive meaning or importance that can ever be given or received has been given to me, and it is mine.

I have nothing to lose.

I’m beginning to believe that my stuff is nothing compared to the field with buried treasure under it. I’m beginning to think that I would gladly give up my status and importance for the one pearl of great value. My safety, my comfort, my health... the whole of them is not worth protecting for one tenth of one percent of that which I have and cannot lose, but could taste more fully in this life if I would just have faith that God is who He says He is.

That is why I am excited. Because I am becoming less of a cynic asking questions out of frustration and hopelessness. Instead, in relationship with Jon and others, I am now asking questions out of a hopeful and expectant anticipation of change.

Whatever is coming, I expect it to come at what the world would call great cost.

And I expect it to be worth it a thousand times over.

Something’s Wrong

We were raised at Church. We were raised by Church. We love Church the way someone loves their parents. We love it in a way we can’t get away from, not that we’ve tried that hard. We love Church when it comforts us. We love Church when it tells us things we don’t want to hear. We love it when we see the lessons it taught us bubbling up spontaneously in our actions or thoughts. We love it even when we realize, like we realize about our parents, that church is so terribly imperfect. For all the wealth of wisdom and goodness it has imparted to us in our upbringing, we realize that Church can be the victim of weakness, self-deception and pervasive lost-ness. We love Church because we know without it we wouldn’t be ourselves and we’d never become our fullest selves if we left it behind.

That you understand the above is very important.

It’s important so that you know we’re not giving up on Church.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s start again.

Imagine a pastor. She’s smart. He’s compassionate. They take their work at Church seriously. They care about their congregants and care about them enough to tell them that they shouldn’t settle for an hour of church once a week. For a week long mission trip once a decade. Once a year even. This pastor, these pastors invite their congregants to a fuller picture of Christian living and they call it “the Kingdom of God.”

Now, imagine a congregant. A man. A woman. A man and a woman and their children; a Christian family. They sit in their church on Sunday and hear this kind of pastor. They’re moved. They want the abundant life these pastors say the Kingdom has to offer. They want it for their little ones. But when they look at their life spread out on a calendar, there’s so little room in the in-betweens. They have to support their family all on their own. Financially. Relationally. Spiritually. And there’s just no more time to do the above-and-beyond church-type stuff. There’s no extra energy. We’re already stretched too thin. We just can’t add anything else.

No matter how abundant it sounds, it’s just not practical.

Still, both of our imagined Christians, Pastor and Congregant alike, agree that all this Kingdom of God stuff should be happening out there in the world. The Christian kind of families say to their Pastors, “I’ve got this extra money from my job in the World. I’ll set it aside and, here, you take it and you go do that Kingdom stuff. And I believe in you. And I’ll show up when I can. I’ll give you that and, don’t worry, you can still have our Sunday morning and maybe a weeknight and a Saturday here and there.”

And let’s not be quick to judge those Congregant folks. They really are giving everything that’s left. They’ll give until they’re burnt out, because they trust us Pastor types and because their everyday life leaves them so close to burnt out already.

Also, let’s not be quick to judge those passionate Pastor folks. They really love and believe in their Kingdom work. They work many more hours than they’re paid for. They’ll work until they’re burnt out, because they care for us Congregant types.


Here’s our problem: This kind of church life is not abundant life, for pastors or for congregants. And if we know one thing, we know that life in the Kingdom is abundant life.

Instead, we’ve been stock-piling straw.

Stock-piling straw so that we can make bricks.

Making bricks so that there can be “progress.”

And yet, muffled to silence by all the straw and drowned out by the cacophony of brick-making, is a cry coming up from God’s people. A cry for liberation. A cry for the abundance of something weightier than straw.

There are those who have neither straw nor bricks who are also crying out for liberation. Crying out for abundance.

And sadly, they’d be elated just to get some straw.

Funny thing about insulation like straw: it muffles sound in both directions. Muffles cries from beneath the straw. Muffles cries from beyond the straw.

And all this straw-piling and brick-making, it’s a way to make a living, but it isn’t much of a life. St. Augustine called it “this living death.”


So, if Church life these days isn’t abundant life, then we’re worried that Kingdom life and Church life have parted ways.

Not just here and there, but systematically.

And what do we call this systematic parting-of-ways? Which way is church life on these days? Well, we’re going to call it “Imperial life.” As in, “Life in the Empire.”

We think our every-day American life is Imperial life and it’s a kind of living death.

We think the conventional American church, for the most part, has systematically capitulated to Imperial life.

We think that, with some faith, courage, imagination and lots of grace, we can trade Imperial life in the Kingdom of Man back for Abundant life in the Kingdom of God.

In other words, we’re ready for empire rehab and, like addicts, our first step is admitting we’re helpless against Imperial life on our own. We need help.

And, if you’re reading this, we’re asking for your help.

Great, right?

Except, we don’t exactly have any idea what that means.

So, instead of coming to you with a list of what it is we think we need, we’re going to let you in on what’s in our hearts and minds. Then, if the Holy Spirit works like we think the Holy Spirit works, we hope you’ll offer us whatever it is God gives you to share. If it’s as much as, “Thanks for sharing with us!” that’s completely awesome.

Either way, that’s what the comments feature is for. Make liberal use.

Godspeed.

Prolegomenon

This was a blog originally set out to promulgate a Christmas-time act of prophetic performance. I had wondered to myself what, if we were to attempt to attend to the simplest truth (though perhaps not the most important or essential) of the Christmas story, what sort of thing would enact that simple truth. The simplest account of that story I could come up with was this: God comes to be with His created and beloved people. That, of course, leaves out just oodles of rich, awesome, important stuff, but it seems to grasp the root of things. So, in the season where we remember that coming-to-be-with, how do we re-enact that simplest truth?

My answer was as simple as my interpretation: by coming to be with God’s created and beloved people, which is to say anybody and everybody. So, what’d me and my good friend and co-conspirator do? We grabbed a couple lawn chairs, we made a silly sign and we bought a couple casks of coffee and some paper cups. We went downtown to where all the frantic, Christmas Eve shopping happens and we parked it under the city’s “holiday tree.” We spent a portion of the afternoon asking people if they’d like a free cup of coffee and if they said yes, we asked them how they were on that stressful day.


That’s it. We missed out on an opportunity to evangelize, because (in the traditional sense) we didn’t. If people asked us why we were doing this, we told them that we thought Christmas was about God coming to be with people, so we decided we should go be with people too. We just kept it as simple as we could. Some people imputed motivations to us that we likely didn’t have. We didn’t correct them. Other people didn’t really get the nuance of the cultural critique at work. We didn’t elaborate.


We just tried to enact the simplest truth we felt like we could manage before things got impracticably complex.

Granting that there are many ways in which “Good” is the enemy of “Best,” this was an instance in which the Best would have been an enemy of the Good. In an effort to get the best, the most and the pure into our Christian action, we would have been scared off of doing the Good, however meek and subtle, God had for us that day. Our perfectionist projection of the best would have just shut us down. Scared us off.

“To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. 8Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. 10That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
St. Paul, 2 Corinthians 12:7-10

I have every advantage. I’m white, American, rich, male, Christian, heterosexual, well educated and able-bodied. As a result, such modesty of purpose and action might seem at best naïve and at worst irresponsible. My conservative brothers and sisters might hope for a more bold proclamation of belief and my progressive brothers and sisters might desire a more ambitious course of action. Indeed, I’m eloquent and personable. I can be bold and prone to leadership. By hiding in the halls of academia and in all-but-hidden conversations about the “what’s next” of church-life, mightn’t I be depriving the movement of a potent, missional voice? Of an intentional, purpose-driven leader?

Perhaps.

Whatever the value of my talents and resources to the power of a Christian cultural movement, I begin writing in this venue echoing Paul’s commitment: “I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me… For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

For when I am weak, then I am strong.

That is the ground-floor paradox on which Christian action must be built.

My best friend and co-conspirator, in a reflection on the Sermon on the Mount, came to the command to “be perfect, therefore, as your Heavenly Father is perfect” and found that the sort of engaged Christian action a total mess like him (and me. And, I’d bet, you) can conjure in the face of such a command is to begin to “boast in (our) weakness.” Which is not to say that we express despair, but rather we express the grandness of our hope. We can be radically honest about what a fucking mess we are because we have the hope in a transcendently powerful God whose power is made perfect in our weakness.

Stop. Take a breath. Let’s revisit that last bit: God’s power is made perfect in our weakness. Not in spite of it. Not against it. In our weakness. If that’s true, it would mean that, when you hide your weakness, you exercise your freedom to reject God’s good gift of weakness-perfected power.

And if we’re going to make it anywhere near “perfect as (our) Heavenly Father is perfect,” we’re going to need that kind of power.

So, watch the fuck out, because this is going to be an honest, weakness-baring zone.

Now that I’ve given some intimation of how I’m going to be discussing things here, you’re probably wondering what I’m going to be discussing here.

For now, just a taste:

“Our problem with Church life is, put another way, that it has let itself become a subset of Imperial life. Many, including us, live our lives as though Church life is only a feature of something more basic, like the “Church app” for the Imperial iPhone. And, like iPhone apps, the nature of this subset gets pre-approved by Imperial life.

Now, lots of people have this insight and, in response, they abandon Church life. Usually, they abandon Church life for a more generic, “liberal” form of Imperial life.

Sometimes people do this, but they want to still call themselves Christians, so they identify Church life with that liberated/progressive feature of Imperial life.

Now, we understand why they do this and we sympathize. Really. Seriously, we understand that impulse. Still, we also think they aren’t going far enough. We can’t just flee Church for life in the Empire, because we feel that what’s wrong with Church life is Imperial life. We need to keep running until we’re not behind the Empire’s fences anymore. We want to keep running until we find ourselves in the Wilderness.


Not to get away from Church life, but to make room for it.”

But that’s a conversation for another day.

Godspeed.