One man's musical home
“Why must we give ourselves fully to God? Because He has given Himself to us. If God who owes nothing to us is ready to impart to us no less than Himself, shall we answer with just a fraction of ourselves? To give ourselves fully to God is a means of receiving God Himself. I for God and God for me. I live for God and give up my own self, and in this way induce God to live for me. Therefore to possess God we must allow Him to posses our soul.” (Mother Teresa, Come Be My Light)
What if this was our Lenton fast?
From Isaiah 58:
6 “No, this is the kind of fasting I want:
Free those who are wrongly imprisoned;
lighten the burden of those who work for you.
Let the oppressed go free,
and remove the chains that bind people.
7 Share your food with the hungry,
and give shelter to the homeless.
Give clothes to those who need them,
and do not hide from relatives who need your help.8 “Then your salvation will come like the dawn,
and your wounds will quickly heal.
Your godliness will lead you forward,
and the glory of the LORD will protect you from behind.
9 Then when you call, the LORD will answer.
‘Yes, I am here,’ he will quickly reply.“Remove the heavy yoke of oppression.
Stop pointing your finger and spreading vicious rumors!
10 Feed the hungry,
and help those in trouble.
Then your light will shine out from the darkness,
and the darkness around you will be as bright as noon.
11 The LORD will guide you continually,
giving you water when you are dry
and restoring your strength.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like an ever-flowing spring.
12 Some of you will rebuild the deserted ruins of your cities.
Then you will be known as a rebuilder of walls
and a restorer of homes.
”Sometimes it’s good for the Church to live out our suffering rather than our victory.” -Dr. Leron Heath
“At the center of the New Testament lies the narrative of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ understood as an act of obedience toward God and an expression of self-giving love for his followers as well as the model for the followers to imitate” (Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace)
I wonder how often I let words like these sink in:
1) the death of Jesus
2) the resurrection of Jesus
3) obedience toward God
4) an expression of self-giving love
5) a model for followers to imitate
If Miroslav Volf is correct (and I believe that he is) that Jesus’ death and resurrection are “at the center of the New Testament,” I then am forced to ask the question: Is Jesus’ death and resurrection at the center of my life, my daily activites, my relationships, my marriage?
How important is Jesus’ death to you? He took the sins of the world upon Himself and felt the agony of being forsaken by God. More, He paid the ransom for our blunders, our selfishness, our boasting, our horrible decisions, and our willingness to forget God amidst lifes ups and downs.
How important is the Jesus’ resurrection for you? He conquered the cross, He conquered sin, He beat it once and for all so that we could be in perfect relationship with God – so that the curtain that guarded the Holy of Holies was torn in two.
How important is it to you that what Jesus did on the cross was an act of obedience to God? That changes the way we view our lives and decisions. We are called to be obedient to God, no matter what He asks of us.
How important is it to you that what Jesus did on the cross was an expression of self-giving love? That can radically affect the way you and I love those around us: our love is to be self-giving, not self-serving.
How important is it to you that what Jesus did on the cross is a model for us and all of the people we lead in this ministry? We are to imitate what Jesus did on the cross, and in modeling, we are to lead other so that they model the same thing.
What if we focused on the death of Jesus, the resurrection of Jesus, Jesus’ obedience toward God, Jesus’ expression of self-giving love, and Jesus’ model that we are called to imitate?
“The kingdom of God is also right beside us. It is indeed The Kingdom Among Us. You can reach it from your heart with your mouth – through even a shaky and stumbling confidence and confession that Jesus is the death-conquering Master of all” (Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy).
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Wouldn’t there be a huge difference in the way we acted if we fully embraced the idea that the Kingdom of God is “The Kingdom Among Us”?
What if our ultimate spiritual reality wasn’t some after-life thing, but was rather something to be a part of here and now and for the rest of eternity?
“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations… There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.” (C.S. Lewis)
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What does this mean for the way we treat one another? Do we view each other as immortals? Or do we take each other for granted?
One of the most interesting conversations I had while in Egypt centered around this question:
Who are the leaders of the Tahrir protests?
The answer?
There are no leaders. There are important people, but there are no leaders.
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The night I flew into Cairo was a Monday night, November 21st. An hour before my plane landed, the civilian cabinet that was running the country had just resigned over 20 protester deaths that had taken place over the previous weekend. A half a million people had gathered in Tahrir Square in response to the events from the weekend, and more were pouring in by the minute. We drove from the airport to the apartment we were staying at, dropped off my luggage, put on nondescript clothing, and headed to Tahrir.
Tahrir Square: the night of Monday, November 21st
It was exhilarating to say the least. More than 500,000 people gathered in one place, demanding major changes to their system for the second time in the calendar year, some willing to put their lives on the line amidst the fighting that was taking place on Muhammad Mahmoud.
But who were the leaders? The larger than life, symbolic figures making all the speeches and positioning themselves to take the major leadership positions within the new government? I couldn’t identify them. And I was told they weren’t really there.
Amazing.
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Is this what revolution looks like in 2011?
The idea that revolutions could take place without larger than life central figures, coordinated entirely by social media is fascinating to me.
And we’ve seen it all over the world, most obviously throughout the protests of the Arab Spring.
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Moreover, we have seen our own American version of this in the Occupy movement. Leaderless, formless, driven entirely by social media, protesting our current system. And while there is a lot to critique about the Occupy movement as it currently stands, you can’t deny the energy that is present at its core.
More, I keep asking the question: What happens if 500,000 people fill Zuccotti Park/Liberty Plaza Park?
Yes, we haven’t had a revolution. But what is keeping us from that?
More: What is keeping America from experiencing a critical mass of 500,000 or 1 million or 1.5 million protestors demanding radical changes to our current social, economic, and political systems?
And what if that movement, which will no doubt be driven by social media, has no symbolic leader?
What then?
My first time in the Middle East left me with a lot to proces. This is the beginning of articulating those thoughts.
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I loved my time in Egypt because it taught me so much. I loved my time in Egypt because it was hard to process. I loved my time in Egypt because it has changed me.
Egypt taught me about what it means to be where the news is. Egypt taught me a little bit of the Egyptians’ struggle – their struggle for self determination, their struggle to rebuild a political system from the ground up, their struggle for a new Egypt where the leftovers of the Mubarak regime are done away with once and for all.
Egypt taught me about how complex a revolution can be. Egypt taught me what it feels like to be in the uncertainty and tension of protest: seeing people who are willing to give their lives for a cause, seeing severe injuries from rubber bullet wounds, seeing seizures and screaming caused by the tear gas canisters with “Made in the U.S.” on them, seeing a church turn itself into a clinic, gun shots at protesters from below a bridge we were driving on, and the look on a friend’s face when she knows her friends are in Tahrir Square amidst the violence.
Egypt taught me that there is so much that I don’t know. That I am a college educated American who has lived abroad yet is out of touch with the most important events on the world stage. I can cop out and blame the American media, but truthfully, the fault lies with me and the lack of urgency I have about the issues that really matter. I am lazy and comfortable in my American bubble.
The world got Egypt's revolution. The U.S. got an anxiety article.
Egypt taught me that Evangelical Christianity in the Middle East looks radically different than Evangelical Christianity in America – the number one difference being theologies about the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. Again, I now know how much I don’t know – thanks to Egypt. I am not concerned enough or educated enough about Israel and Palestine, and I don’t even feel knowledgeable enough to give my opinion on the issue. Not yet anyway.
Egypt taught me about Christianity in Egypt, about threats to and kidnapping of pastors, of burnings of churches, and of the fortitude of Christ followers in a Muslim country. Egypt taught me what the church can be when it allows itself to be on the front lines of its society’s most important events – simply being willing to serve and offer healing and prayer. Some of the best surgeons in Cairo, Muslim and Christian alike, were at the church we visited, as ambulances rushed the wounded protesters to the church’s gate. I saw church volunteers who hadn’t slept for days, and I heard stories of how these volunteers were now fainting because of the well known tear gas of Tahrir Square. This is the Church being the Church. This is what it means to be Jesus to all who enter the house of God. This is what it means for the Church to be a force within a society.
Egypt taught me about generosity and hospitality and service, about family and friendship that can be possible in an extremely close knit community of people that deeply love, cherish, and take care of each other. At the risk of sounding overly emotional: American individualism is stupid. Nobody needs it anymore. I don’t know if we ever needed it. We need each other so much these days, especially to pour into each other in good times and bad.
This is just the beginning of what I learned in the 10 days I spent in Egypt. I’m sure there will be more to come.
By Thomas à Kempis, from The Imitation of Christ:
“Finally, I want to teach you the way of peace and true liberty. There are four things you must do. First, strive to do another’s will rather than your own. Second, choose always to have less than more. Third, seek the lower places in life, dying to the need to be recognized and important. Fourth, always and in everything desire that the will of God may be completely fulfilled in you. The person who tries this will be treading the frontiers of peace and rest.”
Bay Area culture is not one that promotes peace and rest. The opposite is true. And I’m sure it’s true of a lot of other areas of the country as well. Schedules are crazy, for students and adults alike, and the pressure to succeed weighs heavy on everyone.
But we can’t chalk up our lack of peace and rest to the culture we live in. We have to own the fact that we capitulate to that culture. We over-schedule our lives, we overwork our minds and bodies, we always strive for more more more, and we’re not often at peace with who we are, what we’ve been, and what we’re becoming.
But what if we were striving to do another’s will rather than our own? Like our spouse’s will? Or our parents’ will? Or another person’s will who’s love and friendship we deeply depend on?
What if we chose to always have less rather than more? That is, staring consumeristic America in the face and saying no to those cultural norms.
What if we sought the low places of life, “dying to the need to be recognized and important?” Henri Noewen calls it downward mobility. Jesus embodies it in that He was God but He made Himself a servant (Phil. 2).
What we desired that the will of God would be 100% realized us? What we really were representations of God, His ambassadors (2 Cor. 5:20)?
Thomas à Kempis is on to some important truths here.
Peace and rest.
Peace and rest.
Another’s will. Less rather than more. The lowly places. Desiring the will of God.
I need these truths. Desperately. And I bet I’m not the only one.
Somebody asked this past Sunday afternoon how I thought the weekend went, and I answered, “This weekend was the realization of years of preparation. We turned a corner in Student Ministries this week, a turn that now has us on a trajectory that is extremely exciting, energizing, and full of possibilities.”
The first wonderful thing about the weekend was the style of music we played. We’ve been experimenting with folk sounds at our Saturday night services for months now, but this weekend we brought that sound to our Sunday morning services. As I heard from many of our students and staff, worship was dynamic and fun, and really served to connect people to God in a significant way.
We played original versions of: Light Will Shine (UNITED), Amazing Grace (Cornerstone NextGen), Beautiful Things (Gungor), and (after the message) Everything (Tim Hughes).
Our band set up was: Keys and vocals, acoustic guitar and vocals, girl vocal, violin, dobro and banjo, bass, and drums.
The biggest change to our weekly services was the configuration of our room, something that has been talked about for years. Our student center has been under renovation for months, and this weekend was the first weekend we got to use the new configuration for our weekly services. New speakers, new sound board, new monitors for the band, new lighting rig, new stage placement – lots and lots of new.
And it was an incredible experience. Almost surreal. I feel intense gratitude to our executive team for ok-ing the project as well as deep appreciation of our production team for working tirelessly for months to get the room in shape. And thanks so much to our volunteer production team in Student Ministries who trained hard this past week in order to be ready to produce services this weekend.
Our junior highers and high schoolers now have a room that feels intimate more than caverness. Our worship team now has production equipment that out paces us rather than us outpacing the equipment. The room feels open and inviting and wide rather than long and unbalanced.
There is so much to be excited about and thankful for this week.
I will always remember it as the week that we turned a corner in Student Ministries worship, as we saw our folk style really solidify and our reconfigured room really change the experience that we all can have in our student center.
Areas of Improvement
You know, for this week, I’m just going to be thankful for the experience we all had this weekend. Sometimes we just need to celebrate. This week is one of those weeks.
