pregnant

I'm not (but oh to have been a fly on the wall when some of you read that title).

I just want to let everyone know that someday (and I have no idea when that day will be) when I am pregnant, I will tell you. I promise.

Every time I withhold details on a blog post or Facebook status or Twitter update I get emails and messages. "Are you pregnant?!" No. And I promise not to be sneaky about it when I am. I don't know what seems to have convince just about everyone I know that I plan on hiding it someday, but rest assured - I'm not mean. I'll tell you, probably not first (although I'm open to bribes), but I will. Promise.

Until then: No.

what was I thinking?

I finished a great book for work recently called It: How Churches and Leaders Can Get It and Keep It by Craig Groeschel. Good book. Highly recommend it ... if you're in ministry.

At the end of the book Craig shares three simple prayers he's been praying for years. I thought they sounded really good, and I probably got a little competitive. "If Craig can pray it, I can pray it."

Anything you can do I can do better.

I don't even remember all three now. I meant them when I prayed them. I weighed the risks - albeit briefly - of praying them, but you know: you're there in the moment and you've convinced yourself that you really do want to be everything God has for you to be no matter what the cost. And you're feeling bold and strong and as though you really can do all things through Christ.

It's like Holy Spirit sometimes masks sanity temporarily so we'll put ourselves in His path of loving destruction.

I was there. So when I say I weighed the risks ... I did it in a spirit of amazing faith. Which, now, seems to have eased up on me, having accomplished it's mission.

The one I remember was "Stretch me."

Timothy and I were talking about circumstances and situations recently and I remembered that prayer.

Me: "I asked God to stretch me."
Husband: "Without telling me?"

get the popcorn

'Cause you know how I feel about Thursdays. (And because I only have 12 minutes left of my lunch break. Someone cover my salary and this blog will get much better.)

This is "The Difference" by Philmont. I know nothing about this band, but the lyrics are good and this video is cute.



(HT: Craig Snedeker)

This is a monkey riding a Segue.



(HT: Collide Mag)

LifeChurch.tv does videos with Satan a lot. They always have the same guy play Satan, and he's hysterical. A lot of them are interviews between Satan and Craig Groeschel (LifeChurch.tv's pastor). This isn't new, but I was showing them to Connor recently, so it's fresh in my mind. This is one of my favorites; "Satan Talks Church Strategy with Craig:"


Satan Talks Church Strategy with Craig Groeschel from LifeChurch.tv on Vimeo.

Mm-kay. See, now I watched that last one again and lost three minutes so I gotta go.

brain dump

There's chaos in my brain right now.

Change is coming. I've known it for months, but it hit in a way I did not anticipate. I found myself with more downtime than usual several months ago, and asked the Lord about it on a walk one afternoon. He told me to rest because there was a big push coming. I appreciate it when He uses language that I wouldn't use, because I don't have to go through those "was that really the Lord?" moments. "Push?" What am I, in labo ... oh.

It's good and I'm excited about it, but it has crashed in on me in a short period of time and I was so overwhelmed yesterday that I think I accidentally got defensive. Not of the way things are, or the status quo - as they say. I just got a little defensive of my sanity, but I'm over it. You can't do great things for God and maintain your sanity.

And no, I'm not pregnant. I'm wondering if I'll ever have time to be pregnant.

Which raises another issue I'd like to comment on quickly. The whole, romantic concept of "doing what you love" has gotten out of hand again. It's like every few months this becomes a hot, motivational topic for blog posts and articles. "If money were no object, what would you do? And why aren't you doing that now?"

Koom-by-ah, because I've got a mortgage.

If you get paid to live out your passion, I'm happy for you. Really. But the rest of us need you to realize you're very blessed, and stop acting like it's no big deal. Because it is a big deal and you're encouraging people to jump headfirst into the foreclosure crisis. For the sake of the economic stability of our nation: shut up.

I know, I know - but I feel a little better now anyway.

In the midst of the chaos and loss-of-sanity I also stumbled across the following. Preparing for a message on stability (laugh it up) I came across this quote from some unnamed pastor on a blog I'd rather not link to (suffice to say there are strains of the emerging church movement that are forgetting the "church" part). I keep trying to end on this when my mind gets out of control, so I'll end with it here too:

"If you're not finding God where you are, you're not going to find Him anywhere else."

lighten up

That's Unhindered. They've been the worship team at Teen Mania's Acquire the Fire events for the past couple years.

We're in the middle of a series, on Friday nights, called Party Like a Monk. We're going through monastic vows and gleaning whatever wisdom we can from them. Last night we looked at the vow of stability, which basically says you stay in your monastery until death. None of this wishy-washy, monastery-hopping when something gets hard.

One monastery I found (online ... which I thought was a little strange: a monastery with a website) explained that they do this, "to refuse all escapes from the rigorous work of conversion we have undertaken."

In meditating on and preparing this message I planned to talk about our spiritual and emotional stability in Christ and, as usual, the topic always works its way back to Jesus. Because there is no stability outside of Him.

And that stability starts to manifest itself in our lives when we really live as though we're in this world, but not (part) of this world. People notice that our lives are different, but then I started to wonder why. Why are our lives different?

If they're different because we're following a rigid set of rules to appease our omnipotent God, people don't see Him in us. People see boredom, religion, hypocrisy, etc. Because despite what the mainstream media would have us think, people are not stupid. People recognize authenticity.

In working through this in prayer I started to get frustrated. Why is it that so often Christians live like we're ashamed to be Christians? Like church and Jesus are embarrassing? Why is it a rare occasion that we're excited; why is it only the new believers who seem to really get it? We can talk about new restaurants and movies and politics with all the passion known to man, but if faith comes up we shy away.

It's easy to blame it on society. It's easy to say that bad decisions and biased media have pushed Christians into a corner where we have to be careful about what we say and do. People are waiting to be offended and not like us, so we have to tread lightly.

There's truth in that, but I think it's more often the case that we don't believe in the life we're called to live. I love the lyrics to the second verse of that song:

"Where the Spirit of the Lord is, freedom reigns, so come on, come on throw off your prison chains. We're liberated by a King, only freedom remains for the people of God, ya the people of God. And we're living in a kingdom that will never end, living in the power that defeated sin. So come one everybody, let your praise begin, 'cause Jesus is alive and He's coming again!"

I'm tired of being a bored Christian. I'm tired of looking at the unique aspects of a life of discipleship (prayer, Bible study, worship, fasting, etc.) as a burden, instead of an opportunity for me to connect with the Creator on this side of eternity. I'm tired of trying to work for my salvation. I'm tired of looking at the church as an institution that needs to get its numbers up, instead of a radical group of people who are out to bring the love of Christ - practically spiritually - to our neighbors no matter what the cost. I'm tired of being so uptight about my faith that I can't enjoy Him in the everyday.

poverty

We started a new series with the students last Friday called Party Like a Monk. We're talking about the monastic lifestyle and gleaning what we can from them. Friday, we talked about the first vow that a monk takes: poverty.

Monks take a vow of poverty that forbids them to own anything except what is allowed them by a superior. They thus identify with the poor, and share whatever they do have with those in need.

Which is nice, but if my family and I are living in a cardboard lean-to and you tell me you took a vow of poverty to identify with me I'm going to call you a mean name and move on. Thanks but no thanks; I'm not interested in perpetuating the problem.

We talked about numbers:

• Almost half of the world's children live below the poverty line.
• One child dies every three seconds from causes related to poverty.
• Malaria (a preventable and treatable disease) claims 1,000,000 lives every year. Eighty percent of them are children in Africa.

We looked at painful pictures:


And we talked about Matthew 25. "And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’"

We talked about what we can do, and what we need to do. We talked about what the people of God are called to do, and what we're privileged to do and be through Jesus' name.

We talked about Matthew 24. Just before three consecutive parables about being prepared for the second coming, and doing the work of the gospel, Jesus tells us what to expect in the last days. Among the horrors, He says "there will be famines" (plural).

We talked about getting involved for the long-haul. We're not being called to hold a fundraiser, throw a couple hundred dollars at a charity, and check it off our Good Works list.

And we talked about three practical applications:

1. Compassion International can provide an insecticide-treated mosquito net to a family for $10, and save countless children from malaria. There are several organizations that do this, but we want to go through Compassion because we know that where Compassion goes, the gospel goes.
   
   
2. Benevolence. Our own church has a great ministry that is feeding people in our own town. Poverty is worldwide, and that includes Elgin, Illinois. Did you know, for example, that over half of the students at Elgin High School qualify for free or discounted lunches?
   
   
3. Warm Wishes is (was? - I've tried to contact them and the email address doesn't work. Stay tuned.) a ministry in our area that collects blankets and distributes them to the homeless, and homeless shelters, in the north Chicago 'burbs.

We took a vote that I haven't tallied yet. Friday we'll know what the majority of our students feel they can get passionate about, and get involved with.

In the meantime, go play FreeRice.

Bound4Life and Crisis

We went out to stand with Bound4Life Chicago again last Saturday morning, and I completely lost it.

Com-plete-ly.

I think this was my fourth time. I know the routine. I know the purpose. I know the prayer. I know the goal. I don't know what, exactly, happened to me, though.

I got out of the van and there was an unusually large gathering of Catholics outside the clinic. The parking lot is a triangle with sidewalk and fence lining two sides. Usually the Catholics are mostly on one fence and the LIFE team is on the other. They couldn't contain themselves this week, though, there were so many.

And not just the regulars. There were fathers - or whatever they're called: the penguins with the little white squares that seem to mark "karate-chop-here" on their throats ... I'm getting ahead of myself. There were a lot, and where religion goes, so - apparently - go pictures of anglo-Jesus, mutilated children, and four-foot-high statues.

"Fine," I thought as I tried to muster up every ounce of grace and love I may have stored away for just such an occasion. When one of the fathers came down our line handing out lyrics and asking the people with red tape over their mouths if they'd like to sing along with them, I caught Pastor Jon's eye and turned away to laugh before muzzling myself with duct tape just in time.

The weather was really nice Saturday morning, so there were more (biological) fathers than usual waiting, smoking, and chatting nervously in the parking lot. I looked at them, glanced back at the crowd on my side of the fence, and started praying that the fence would collapse.

I started praying for Love to show up. I prayed that our side of the fence would pray, speak, and sing in love, and that people inside the fence would know God's presence and His love in what may be the most difficult time of their lives. Randy came by and asked us to start by praying for the (biological) fathers, and I prayed for Love to show up.

And then the bullhorn came out.

I opened my eyes and looked at the young men in the parking lot. There were four of them, about my age. They stood against the building smoking and watching the fence. The Catholics sang something in Latin while a young priest read something, very awkwardly, through his megaphone.

Stubborn, hurting hearts faced off against stubborn, hurting hearts. This was not a conversation, this was the beginning of a duel of will. This was us-vs.-them. I stood and watched for probably 10 minutes and then my prayer was answered.

My prayer was answered, and Love showed up but He showed up in me in a way I did not expect and I lost it. I ripped the tape from my mouth and turned around to sit on the curb between bumpers. I prayed in tongues and asked God what was going on. He didn't answer and I started to choke up.

I walked half-way down the block, called my husband and sobbed at him. This is not love. This is not the gospel. This is not Christ. I'm so tired of Christians being known more for what we're against than what we're for, and right now we are against abortion and not for families (or so it probably seems). Some children are saved, but for every one saved how many parents leave this place hardened and offended and less likely than ever to listen to the gospel? I believe our team is here in love, but people inside the fence don't see the difference - they see Christians kept at bay by a chain-link fence.

"I am a Christian. I am Spirit-filled. I believe in life, and I want to bash that guy's face in with his megaphone! Do these younger guys look out at us and think, 'Man, those Christians sure do love me and want the best for me?' I believe in this and I want to be a light, but I don't feel like a light; I feel like [insert obscenity here]!"

I cried as Husband reassured me, comforted me, and encouraged me to talk to Pastor Jon about what I was feeling. I can't do the Holy Spirit's job and I really don't know what the young men inside the fence are thinking; I can't limit God by saying He can't break into their hearts.

A couple of women emerged from the fence and walked toward me. I hid my LIFE tape behind my back and smiled at them as they passed.

Randy met me and I cried some of the same things at him. He answered some questions and prayed for me, but I don't know if he understood my heart. He tried to comfort me in that it's okay if people don't like us, etc. I'm fine with people not liking me; I'm not fine with people not liking Christ because of me. I don't know if I communicated that.

Pastor Jon met me down the block a couple minutes later and answered some of my "Why's?" We talked; he shared some of his heart. I felt a little better, and eventually returned to the prayer line. At the end of the day we decided to get together outside of the second Saturday of the month to talk more about what we can do to really, practically love these people.

I'm really looking forward to that.

James 2:15-17//If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you says to them, “Depart in peace, be warmed and filled,” but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does it profit? Thus also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Today is my mom's 50th birthday. She'd love to know that I'm broadcasting that. (Sorry, mom.) So here are 50 things that I love about my mom (the links all go to pictures, play along):

1. She's stinkin' cute. Seriously.
2. She always let me help make cookies. To this day I use a plastic bowl and a wooden spoon.
   
3. She used to sing me to sleep when I was little, and she has a gorgeous voice.
4. She makes this really funny face when she's angry but not really angry. I call it her "stern face."
5. She's always learning something.
6. Whenever she goes to craft shows, she doesn't buy things she likes because "I could make that." But then she never makes any of it.
7. She taught me how to love gardening.
8. She taught me how to love husbands.
9. She taught me how to love people I don't know.
10. She's so good at being a mom, she spread it around to most of my friends. A couple even moved into our house my senior year of high school.
11. For better or worse, she let me make my own mistakes.
12. She makes the most subtle requests for grandkids.
13. She's a fantastic cook, despite my father's constant critiquing.
    
14. She always made my halloween costumes.
15. She made my wedding dress.
16. She always made us matching Easter dresses. I love those pictures.
    
17. She once worked really hard on a dress for me and when it was done, I didn't like it. I don't think I ever wore it. She didn't kill me for that. I would have killed me for that.
18. She made a really cute little brother for me.
19. She cries when I cry, even if she's not sad about the thing at all.
20. She (and dad, but it's not his birthday) has always told me I'm beautiful.
21. She's always told me I'm smart.
22. She's always told me I can do whatever I put my mind to, and I think she really believed it the whole time.
23. She hasn't killed my father yet.
24. In Jr. High my poem won a contest and this group of performers was going to perform it, and she didn't come to the assembly 'cause she asked if I would be embarrassed and I think I said yes. The moment they started on my poem, though, I stood up and looked around 'cause I'd really wanted her to be there. Sorry about that one, mom. I beat myself up over that for months and never told you. I'm even getting choked up as I type this one; I'll forgive myself some day.
    
25. She put up with me in the womb for three extra weeks.
26. She had two C-section babies, and instead of being mad at us - she bragged about our perfectly round heads.
    
27. She does our taxes with all her H&R Block expertise.
28. She was at every piano competition.
29. She still likes to hear me try to play, even though I'm terrible now.
    
30. She has us over for dinner every Sunday night.
31. She lets my husband eat two meals most Sunday nights.
32. She likes my husband.
    
33. She let me do all of our laundry at her house every Sunday night for about two and half years.
34. She passed on her fantastic eyebrows.
35. Whenever my brother or I did something wrong, she wondered what she had done wrong. I'm not sure if that was a subtle guilt-trip style punishment, but it always worked.
36. She's always on my side - even if it means she's against other people she knows/loves.
    
37. She never got on my case for dressing like an idiot when I was a teenager.
38. She loves historical things that even I think are boring, and I like historical things.
    
39. She will cry at the end of Meet Joe Black no matter how many times she sees it.
40. She notices the musical score of a movie right away.
41. She loves to read.
42. She taught me the importance of family.
43. She likes camping.
44. She likes bird-watching, even though it's silly.
45. I fell asleep most nights with my door partially open so I could hear her and my dad talking and watching the news down the hall.
46. She likes to watch thunderstorms.
47. She has this fantastic laugh that could carry in a vacuum. When I was younger, if I ever lost her at church on a Sunday morning, I would stand at the intersection of hallways between Fellowship Hall, the narthex, and the sanctuary and wait for her to laugh.
48. Sometimes she laughs so hard she makes herself have to pee.
    
49. If I curl up next to her on the couch, she still plays with my hair.
50. She will always, always be there for me.

Happy birthday, Mom.

without love

(Or, "I want to be Martin Luther when I grow up")

I met another Christian blogger recently. He's rather prolific. I really enjoy his blog, and another media project he directs. He's acutely aware of some of the shortcomings of the western Church, and writing from a very passionate position about the chasm between Biblical Christianity and what goes on in many local churches and Christian circles in our society.

Through his acquaintance I've also been introduced to a number of other blogs and voices that, initially, seem to be along the same pulse. On one occasion I was invited to contribute to a blog that disagrees with (to put it mildly) western Christianity. I was flattered - honored, even - and excited about the opportunity, but yesterday had to decline it.

I believe the guy I met has a genuine heart, but there's a fine line between concern and condemnation. Between righteousness, and self-righteousness. Some of the voices and networks that I've met and seen through him seem to err on the side of finger-pointing, and it's really stirred up something inside of me.

I agree that church as we know it in the U.S. is faltering. I agree that many churches are more concerned with what goes on inside their walls than with what goes on in their communities. I agree that many local ministries are not reaching out to their neighbors. I agree that many Christian circles are closed-off and condemning. I agree that Christianity in our country needs to be infused with a fresh dose of humility, servant-hood, grace, and sacrificial love.

I do not believe that distancing ourselves - as believers - from the body of Christ, is the way to do it.

In 1 Corinthians, Paul writes to believers, "Though I speak with the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal." Your message can be straight from heaven, but if you can't speak it in love it's nothing. You can be right where others are dead wrong, but if you can't express yourself in love it doesn't matter.

The Holy Spirit has really used the past week of blog-hopping and emailing to point at me. Where am I being cynical? Unforgiving? Prideful? The Church in the west has problems, but the Church in the west is still the body and bride of Jesus Christ. Like it or not, that includes me, so what am I doing about it?

The picture that I keep getting is Jesus' last meal. The night before His closest friends - the very first Church - would betray and abandon Him amidst His greatest hour of need, He washed their feet. He served the Church out of love, and because He knew what they were capable of. He knew that He had begun something that, no matter how bad it looks, all the forces of hell would never prevail against. Can't I do the same?

Humility, servant-hood, grace, and sacrificial love start with me.

check this out

Twitter and RSS have been hoppin' this morning. Some of you know 'cause I've been emailing links all morning. I've decided to consolidate. Here's all the cool stuff I found out about this morning.

LifeWay Research is releasing a new book in April called Lost and Found: The Younger Unchurched and the Churches That Reach Them. You can download a sample here. It's mostly statistics, but the authors weave a story through it too. You get two installments of the story, and now I'm tempted to buy the book in April just 'cause I want to know how the story ends.

Chris Forbes has put together about 30 pages in a short book called Facebook for Pastors. Pretty self-explainatory. It's definitely geared more toward those who haven't ever logged on to Facebook, but the beginning has some good stuff for church leaders who are already on Facebook (and it's a good tool to encourage Facebook-shy pastors you know). You can download the whole thing right here.

Found this video on Gizmodo:

Beached from Keith Loutit on Vimeo.

It's not minatures. It's a real beach in Autralia. They explain (and give you another video) on the blog. Pretty crazy.

And I couldn't help but click on a headline via one of my Tweeple that reads, "Bank robber hires decoys on Craigslist." You can get anything on the internet these days. I laughed in disbelief. Yes, he got away ... which may have been even more amazing than the decoys. You have to read this.

Let me preface this next one with "I certainly don't believe everything I read on the internet." But if this is true ... well, nothing. I'm not surprised and there's nothing for me to do about it. What's $400,000 in light of $700 billion, anyway? Pocket change.

So there. That's been my morning. Back to your regularly scheduled programming ...

two chords

I thought about posting the piece I read for the Worship Night last month. After some thought I decided not to because - while it's based on an old blog post - it's spoken word. Spoken word, by nature, loses something when it's not ... spoken. Especially when it's not spoken by the author.

But then someone asked. So alright. I don't know if it's going to make the final cut of the live album, but if it does, get it. It's much, much better spoken (even though I totally choked and had to clear my throat despite frantically downing a half bottle of water just before reading) ... 'cause that's what it's for.

So here it is. I also thought about breaking it up all poetically the way it's supposed to be read ... but a lot of that is kind of spontaneous, and when I tried to do it anyway it makes a really, really long post. In the interest of maintaining some artistic integrity and the aesthetics of the blog, you get it in paragraphs:


Revelation 4:2-11// Immediately I was in the Spirit; and behold, a throne set in heaven, and One sat on the throne. And He who sat there was like a jasper and a sardius stone in appearance; and there was a rainbow around the throne, in appearance like an emerald.

Around the throne were 24 thrones, and on the thrones I saw 24 elders sitting, clothed in white robes; and they had crowns of gold on their heads. And from the throne proceeded lightnings, thunderings, and voices. Seven lamps of fire were burning before the throne, which are the seven Spirits of God. Before the throne there was a sea of glass, like crystal. And in the midst of the throne, and around the throne, were four living creatures full of eyes in front and in back.

The cheap, plastic lamp that hangs above my piano doesn't turn on anymore. It's probably the bulb, but I'm satisfied in shadows.

So I sit in the dark. Alone. I sit in the black office chair with the kind of posture that only a decade of piano lessons can cultivate in a person's subconscious. I sit, eyes closed, and listen for eternity.

I reach out for the keys that I know are just in front of me and play the chord my fingers fall on. The only decision I have to make is whether to go to a minor third or up a fifth. My hands know the math that comes after the second measure. I am not aware of which I choose.

I rock back and forth between two chords, there in the doorway, and He smiles at me. I feel the flame in His gaze and I want it. I want it dangerously, passionately, fearfully, hesitantly. And He knows it. He knows yearning mixed with trepidation, and desire tainted with fear. He knows, and He_waits. Two chords. Two chords is safe, and I can do it with my eyes closed without hitting an incorrect key.

I rock back and forth between two chords, there in the doorway, because right now He is utterly unapproachable and I am even ashamed to have gotten no where. That throne is terrifying in its beauty, and the kind of love that waits for me in the center of it will consume me. Still – that fear is laced with longing, and He waits for me.

I glance down at my two chords and my stomach turns. I rock back and forth between pride and disobedience. Between apathy and false humility. Between selfishness and hatred. My feet, my shoes, my pant legs, are soaked through with mud. And He waits. I rock back and forth between the sea of crystal before Him and the stain on my walk. And I see Him waiting.

And I don't hear the notes I'm playing but I hope in that moment they're minor because I want to scream at Him. I want to make Him come out. I can't go in there! How can I go in there? Can't He see me? Can't He see where I've been? Can't He see the stain on my clothes? How can He call me in there like this? Doesn't He know I'll ruin it? I can't go!

And He waits.

He waits, and I know that He knows. His eyes burn through me even from here, so I wipe my feet as best I can, add a third chord, and step out of the doorway. Eyes still closed I try to tread lightly as though I can't feel clumps of filth landing softly on the floor beneath me. This is so embarrassing, but He knows. I want to be there and He knows and He waits so I go.

I add a fourth chord to complete the phrase and I run. I'm already in. I've already ruined His splendor. I've already burdened eternity with dirt it was never meant to endure. And I wonder if I'll survive. I wonder if He'll look at me when I get there. He can't look on sin. It can't stand in His presence and about the moment I'm sure I'll never endure Him I'm close enough to want nothing more than to try and then I'm there and all I can do is fall at His feet.

And He waits.

And I play, and I open my eyes. I'm playing in D, and as I turn to look behind me at mistake after mistake that I so boldly smeared all over Revelation 4 all I see are the last few, blood-red footprints fading to a pure, crystal finish.

a glance

Watchman Nee has been really beating me up for the past 12 hours. If I had the time or dedication, I'd type out the last two chapters of The Normal Christian Life, but I've neither.

I will share the biggest punch he landed, though.

He's in Luke 17, discussing the rapture. He points out the Lord comparing the rapture to Lot leaving Sodom, and proposes through the end of the chapter that the rapture may, in fact, be a call that each of us will chose whether or not to answer.

Luke 17:29-32//but on the day that Lot went out of Sodom ... Even so will it be in the day when the Son of Man is revealed. In that day, he who is on the housetop, and his goods are in the house, let him not come down to take them away. And likewise the one who is in the field, let him not turn back. Remember Lot's wife." (Emphasis mine.)

"If I mistake not, this is the one passage in the New Testament that tells of our reaction to the rapture call."

He discusses the "twinkling of an eye" as in 1 Corinthians 15, but could it be that the transformation/twinkling comes after one responds rightly to the "rapture call?"

"No, in that moment we shall discover our heart's real treasure. If it is the Lord Himself then there will be no backward look. A backward glance decides everything." (Emphasis mine - again.)

It brings the question of whether I'm ready for the Lord's return to en entirely new level, and - honestly - scares the crap (for lack of a better term) out of me. I'm digging into this, maybe Nee's interpretation is completely off. At the moment, though, I've no reason not to gasp at the idea.

"This is beautifully illustrated in the action of Peter when he recognizes the risen Lord Jesus by the lake-side. Though, with the others, he was back for the moment in his former occupation, there was now n thought of the ship... When he heard John's cry of recognition: 'It is the Lord,' we read that 'he cast himself into the sea' to go to Jesus."

Where are my eyes set? A backward glance decides everything.

i heard that

I had an interesting conversation yesterday via Twitter with a guy who works very heavily in church marketing/communications.

Him: Just watched the promo video for The Call (http://thecall.com) California. Produced really well, but man, not sure I'm liking the approach.

Me: What don't you like? (In 140 characters? - Ha.)

[He sent this as a direct message, which means no one cold read it but me.]
Him: I think the angle is a little too judgmental, critical and over-the-top. How would "outsiders" view this? I fear not too fondly.

Me: Which perhaps begs the question: When do we stop worrying about perceptions and just do what we're called to do? Ever?

That was the end of it. I was genuinely asking, because I know he's been in church marketing for a while and was interested in his thoughts, but he may have missed my message.

It's an interesting idea. On the one hand, much of what a local church or Christian ministry produces should be created with non-Christians in mind. Even things that are not necessarily intended for non-Christians, because they'll likely see it so we need to consider what it says about the body of Christ.

On the other hand, The Call - for one - is not a local church. Their focus is not primarily non-Christians and leading people to salvation. Their goal is to assemble tens of thousands of young Christians around a pretty radical call to fasting and prayer (on behalf of said non-Christians). Sure, non-Christians are going to see the video and the website, etc., but if you water-down that message you're not going to get the kind of people you need to assemble from all over the country for a day of intercession.

So at what point do we stop worrying about what non-Christians think of our lingo, ideas, methods, etc. and just do what we (as a people, as the Church, as a specific ministry, as a local church - whatever) are called by God to do? At what point to we say, "You're not going to get this - you might even think less of me for it - but it's going to take massive prayer to shift this nation, so we're doing it."

I think there is a point when that happens, but it's probably tough to identify.

And for local churches, that point may rarely come on the radar. Local churches are meant to share the love and grace and redemption of Christ with people, so of course you don't want to ever create a billboard, web page, post card, flier, or anything that's offensive or divisive.

What about ministries like The Call? Are they making the Church in America look bad?



I'm thinking as I type here. Ideas?

blog action day 08

Blog Action Day 2008 Poverty from Blog Action Day on Vimeo.

(I'll actually blog one of these days.)