missional or missing it.

Very late Saturday night as we made our way home from Orlando, I sat in the passenger's seat, gazing out the window. (I love being a passenger on a good drive; I have some of my very best thoughts in that seat!) I was observing things as we drove, though we've been down that road dozens of times. And, as we passed a church, this was my inner monologue:

"In just a few hours, someone will arrive early at that church. They will turn on the lights, the air, the sound system. They'll unlock the necessary doors. And then the building will begin to fill with people. Some there to seek God. Some to see friends. Some, simply out of duty. Songs will be sung. Words will be preached. Kids will enjoy themselves. Someone will say, "Amen." And then, everyone will hug and go to lunch. In six days, they'll repeat it."

My next thought:  "What are we doing?" 

Before I go any further, please hear me. I believe with all my heart that the local church is still the hope of the world (as Bill Hybels said). I believe it is God's channel to bring healing and health to the world. I believe that the Church, universally, can do anything God calls us to. In fact, I have sacrificed much of my life to see God's Kingdom advanced by way of the local church. And I wouldn't be content with living any other way. 

And still..."What are we doing?" haunted me. 

Sometimes, it seems that we interpreted our mission as, "Go into all the world, find a church that meets your needs and makes you comfortable, and settle in with all your best friends. Enjoy." 

Thankfully, I'm part of a group of believers who really desire to be like Jesus. And, in the most sincere sense, we want to seek those who are lost and see them redeemed. We may not always get it right; but we want to. We don't want to miss it. We don't want to arrive in Heaven, fully intact, in perfectly coordinated and pressed clothes, with a kind smile, and not one other soul.

When Jesus looks at His Bride, this Church (specifically in America), does her passion reflect His? Does her heart beat like His? Break like His? Or is she living in a comfortable arrangement with Him? He provides all her needs, she looks pretty and lives well...

I don't want to be that Christian. A survey conducted a couple years ago in several Assembly of God churches stated that 80% of the church attenders believe the church exists to meet their needs and the needs of their families. I was heart-broken at that number.

Sometimes we really miss it...

But, last night, as I spoke with a friend on the phone she told me a piece of her story I'd never heard. She told me about a believer who didn't miss it. And how that led to her salvation. 

My friend was a store-manager, a working wife and mom, by day. And by night, she was living in literal hell. Being beaten weekly by her husband. Broken. In fear. Hospitalized. But trying to carry on. Each morning, she'd come to work and have a meeting with her assistant (a Christian woman) and then, they'd go about their days. Her assistant began to mention in these meetings how incredible the revival at her church was. But, she never invited my friend to go with her. As she listened to stories of healing and hope, hunger and desperation built in my friend. And she waited for the invite. She thought, "Why isn't she inviting me? That's what these Christian people do! Whether they care about you or not, they recruit!" And when she couldn't stand it any more, she finally invited herself! 

That night, at that revival, she met Jesus - for real. And she found freedom and purpose - for real. Which eventually led to her having the courage to have her abuser arrested. And raising her children to know Christ. 

Weeks later, she asked her assistant (now a close friend), "Why didn't you just invite me to that revival?" She responded, "I wanted to so badly...you have no idea. But the Lord would not let me. I knew I needed to wait for you to ask." And because my friend invited herself, she was acutely aware of her own hunger for God. A hunger that would drive her to invite herself somewhere! Let alone CHURCH! She confronted the vacuous hole in her spirit by asking if she could come along. And now, she's a minister in her own right. All because one lady listened to the Holy Spirit, even when the instructions seemed strange.

That's when we hit the mark. That's when we, as the church, get it. When we obey the voice of the Holy Spirit in even the simplest things. That's where missional meets mission accomplished.

I want to be that kind of believer. That kind of church. 

art interrupts life.

If you came to my house, you'd see an eclectic mix of colors. When I moved in, a friend asked me excitedly, "So what kind of colors are you thinking about?" "Oh! I already picked them! They're great...it's like a reddish, yellow, hot pink, green, orange, brown and black deal!" She responded with a grin and both eyebrows raised, "Oh! Really...hm". I could tell her mind was trying to figure out on which planet those colors would be found in a room together. "It's tasteful, promise." I reassured her. (She's since visited and given the nod of approval.) There are simply too many colors in life to settle down with just one or two!

The old adage says, "art imitates life". For me...art - variety, imagination, possibility - interrupts life. It sweeps over me and beckons my attention from the practical, even the necessary, and it lures me into a world of imagination and fascination. Where colors can spend time together regardless of their "matching" status. Where status-quo is negated to accommodate beauty. Where a blank sheet of paper is a brand new opportunity to imitate my Creator, by attempting to "create".  And where I feel truly free to just "be". 

It's the reason I started this blog. 

I have too many thoughts that can't find a place in everyday life. They just...don't fit. 

And yet, here I am. Wondering why I would convey half of what I'm thinking on here because much of it seems to bear no practical relevance. At some point, when I realized you couldn't make a living just thinking, making words sound pretty and appealing, or coming up with new concepts about faith and life - I did away with all of the above for myself. I packed all those things neatly in a box marked "hobbies" and put it in the back of the closet; in favor of school-books, paperwork, bill-paying and washing dishes. And I lost some of myself. I lost a very important part of what brings me joy in everyday life. 

Part of life is questioning. Pondering. Thinking. Musing. Exploring. Always respectfully, of course. But the kid who constantly asks, "Why?" may never really stop asking. They'll re-phrase, re-think, re-visit, maybe even squelch the urge to ask, but it will probably always be there. And, if led in the right direction, those questions can produce answers with life-changing results. 

But, before answers, and before life-changing epiphanies, questions must emerge. And generally, with them, an uncomfortable time of searching and uncertainty. In better words:  "Reason can answer the questions, but imagination has to ask them." 

There was a time in my life where I nearly went crazy asking too many questions. Those of us with a propensity toward inquisitiveness must also be tempered "investigators". There are parts of faith, of life, that we need not question. The fun part is everything else is open for negotiation! So, as my imagination wanders and as the artist in me is awakened. As I begin again to ponder, challenge accepted norms, and re-create, expect some unexpected questions to arise on this blog. The first of which, coming soon...

Renovate.

One of our church bathrooms is being remodeled. It is changing from bathroom to baaaaathroom. And it's very exciting for us. It's going to be so much more useful. We're adding a shower. So now, it's official:  we never have to leave. It's been a joke among us as a staff that we already feel a bit like we live here and now, we can! Of course we won't, though. (At least until we install some closets and get a couch.)

But watching this renovation has taken on a personal meaning for me. Isaiah 54 has been my focus passage this year. If you're a "churchy" person, you'll know it as the "tent stakes" passage:  spread out your stakes, lengthen your cords, enlarge the place of your dwelling! So, when I felt the Lord draw my attention to those verses, I had to find out the modern equivalent. I mentioned in a previous post that it's essentially God telling a barren woman, a desolate woman, to add a room (or two) onto her house. And, when that donned on me, everything made a lot more sense. 

Early this year, as I began clinging to God's promises in Isaiah 54, the reasons to hold fast to His Word became more and more. And they edged closer and closer to the deepest recesses of my heart. Family trials, personal hardships, relationships that just haven't worked out. Until I found myself standing in what seems to be wilderness. Journeying hand-in-hand with Jesus but seeing very little else around me that is certain, trustworthy. No more crutches. 

And now, I look on this passage and I hear it resonate in my spirit:  dream up the addition to this home, draw up the blue-prints, dwell on the possibilities, declare My faithfulness even in what you do not see. 

And, do you want honesty? I have been reluctant. Because here's the thing:  when you're being renovated, you feel you're of little use during that moment. Our bathroom here at the church has been gutted. Though something better is coming, right now, it's useless. Empty. Void. But bursting at the seems with potential. We can dream of how the tile will look. How beautiful the fixtures will be when they're in place. But, if we dwell on the "now", all we see is a busted, broke-down room:  an uneven concrete floor, sparse drywall, holes in the wall where there used to be light, or power.  

I am looking at a vacant house and what feels like a desolate heart. And I'm laying blueprints over them. Plans for family and hope and love and abundance. Looking at the now through the eyes of God's faithfulness in my past. 

Are you being renovated...? Lay the blueprints of dreams and hope over your life and rest in the Hands of the Master Carpenter. 

a post for the fun of it.

Since I've lived in my very grown-up lady apartment, all by my grown-up self, I have developed a habit of perpetually saying (most) of my thoughts aloud. As if the All-Seeing Lord of my life needs a play-by-play (after all, He's the only One listening). But because I haven't stopped talking since I could form words, I just go about my life stating the obvious to...well, anybody who can hear what's going on in apartment 205. It doesn't really matter if another human is listening, priorities are priorities, and so...talk I must! 

I walk about my house...

Giving precursors:  "I think I'll have..." (dinner announcement) 

Verbalizing responses:  "Ooo! So pretty..." (leafing through a magazine)

Making passing observations:  "I should probably paint my toes..."

Announcing plans:  "Ok. I'm going to clean for 20 minutes. Just 20."

Encouraging myself:  "You can do it, Amanda. Good job! Look! You're so organized and so smart! And you did that all by yourself!" (Can you tell I do a lot of that? I do. And don't knock it. I firmly believe it's healthy.)

There are no pets in my apartment to enjoy the narrative. There used to be a couple fish, but I think I bored them to death. Or maybe I overfed them because I fed them when I ate...whatever the case, they make their home in Heaven now. 

As it goes in life, you cannot hide your habits, your actual character, when you leave your house. (I can't anyway. God is bent on humiliating me with any hidden things in my life). And so anywhere, at any time, if I perceive I am alone, I will inevitably voice any and every thought. Sing whatever comes to mind (as loudly as I hear it in my head). Tell Jesus whatever I need to say to Him. And, occasionally, dance if it strikes me as necessary. 

Today, my office is empty. And so, I'm singing to myself (because in my head I sound exactly like Adele singing "Right as Rain"). I sip a Diet Coke and say aloud, "I love Diet Coke." I tell myself what I'm doing as I work, "Ok. Good. Now, let's email so-and-so and then we'll process that paperwork and work on the message for Wednesday" (who is "we" anyway?). I encounter a sugar craving and exclaim, "Ooooh. I want some peanut M&M's." 

And then, as I walk into the next room, I find Brother Ed, one of the many incredible men of our church, working on a bathroom we're renovating. He's classy, so he'll act like he didn't hear me. And I'm embarrassed, so I'll act like there's no way he could have. And I'll go back to office and continue my "conversation". 

Our pastors are out of the office for two weeks. And my co-worker is part-time. You should probably sneak into the church office if you need some entertainment in the next few days...

(this was two weeks ago when I, alone, found out my eye fit perfectly in the hole of our VBS doorhangers. aren't you glad I documented the occasion?) 

around the table.

A group of us gathered in the lobby of Olive Garden this Sunday, waiting for our table. We're obvious church people:  suits, heels and big, toothy grins. But I like to think we're different. Because we know how to flash a smile; but we also know how to sit in silence with someone grieving. And how to tell our story, not sparing some of the ugly moments that God has redeemed for His good work. And no one's story would make us flinch with disgust - only compassion.

We hadn't waited long when we were called to our table. We politely walked through the restaurant behind our hostess and I (as always) tried to look at every table I could, seeing who my neighbors were for the meal. I noted that the table next to us was a large party of conservative Christians. I know because there wasn't a speck of lipstick or rouge on any lady. Each of them was wearing a beautiful dress or skirt/top combo. And their hair was lovely and long. They enjoyed each others' company, especially the kids, and before long they had finished their meal and the table was bussed. 

(I had been seated fully in the middle of our table. Conversations were carrying on at either end and I had the opportunity to "check out" and just watch people. A favorite past-time.)

I watched as the staff set the table up again and led a new group in to be seated. They were quite different from the previous group:  metropolitan-looking, thick framed glasses and jeans, giving no indication they had been to church (at least not any traditional gathering). And, as they approached, it appeared that two of the young men had an affinity for each other that transcended friendship. I observed them long enough to be relatively sure of the relationship (though you never know, ya know.) And then, pondering ensued...

• What would the conversation had been if both groups were seated together? 
  
• What if they had lunch hour in common as well as their table? 
  
• What did our new neighbors think of our table? 
  
• Would they ever feel comfortable at our church?
  
• Would they be comfortable sharing a meal with us - perhaps sharing their own stories - and hearing ours?
  
• How will we ever really know them? 
  
• How will we know what they need from Jesus? (salvation? liberty? understanding?)

As a staff, God has been stirring each of our hearts individually for a couple of months. And now, we've come together, to talk, to pray, to weep, to dream, about new outreach efforts to our city. It's always been the heart of our church. But there is a new level, a deeper level, to which God is beckoning us. We are glad to move forward...only needing direction and tools, both of which we trust Him to bring just at the right time. 

When will my wandering and suffering neighbors come to my table for dinner and understand a little more about God? 

Lately, I am called to dream of a place, a table, where people can bring their deepest questions, their most obtrusive hindrances to faith, even their hatred of "Christianity". A place where fears and misconceptions can be revealed and, in time, dismissed. Room made in people's hearts for grace and true faith...

How many empty chairs are around your table? 

Just no words.

Sometimes, when words fail and I can't describe what God is doing in my heart - in my life, in my family - I just end up talking circles around the reality. So lately, I've been letting Sara Groves sing my heart back to me as I put one foot in front of the other. 

Sorry for the lack of an inspirational post. But, as I dig deeply into God's purpose for this moment, those will come. 

For now, here's Sara's description of the landscape:

From This One Place

I was about to give up and that's no lie

cardinal landed outside my window

threw his head back and sang a song

so beautiful it made me cry

took me back to a childhood tree

full of birds and dreams

from this one place I can't see very far

in this one moment I'm square in the dark

these are the things I will trust in my heart

You can see something else

something else

I don't know what's making me so afraid

tiny cloud over my head

heavy and grey with a hint of dread

I don't like to feel this way

take me back to a window seat

with clouds beneath my feet

from this one place I can't see very far

in this one moment I'm square in the dark

these are the things I will trust in my heart

You can see something else

something else