I'm about to head away from home for the summer. I'll be experiencing the wilderness, working outdoors with The Genesis Program at Ontario Pioneer Camp. I'm excited! But I will miss this community. And I am looking forward to being back in September.

Peace

Then there is the issue of those anomalous sheep within the pen. The ones who love deeply but don’t teach. They serve silently but don’t sing. Work diligently but don’t do accounting. What is their role within the Church? Often, it appears we reply, “oh but we have social workers for that.”

I have 3 words for you.

Nine to five.

Church began as a countercultural project within Empire. People on the margins didn’t have government support, so Christians made it their business to care. There were teachers, merchants, leaders, and singers; but everybody was a care-er. Just because we currently have an Empire that employs people to help others, is the Church now off the hook?

Do we sit back and let the disenfranchised be served between the hours of 9 am and 5 pm, until the social worker goes home? Do we let the short-term missions team take care of the impoverished community for two weeks every year? Do we hand over our money to organizations we haven’t researched enough, assuming that our job is done? Assuming that eye contact with the person we are indirectly helping is unnecessary?

Because, after all, Church is meant to meet our needs, right? And, gosh darnit, we pay good money for it! Our spiritual and emotional woes need to be pacified by the one we appoint to be our leader. Our CEO. Our Santa Claus. But wait a minute…who is us? Who do we let inside our creaking mahogany doors? Who may share our pews? And if the ragged lambs were to join us, would it all get too messy and confusing?

 Would this be counter to our culture? Would our model of senior and associate pastor be able to keep up with spiritual, emotional, physical, financial, environmental, judicial, and mental needs? Meanwhile, the extra numbers aren’t exactly going to pull their weight financially, are they? Their wool is too dirty. Their hooves are left unwashed…

But perhaps those sheep have something to offer us as well...

I was able to laugh along with this line from a humorous ex-convict, because it supports the project. The project is dignity. To honour those who’ve not been dignified with time. Those who receive only cold hard stares, or vacant eyes.

 Often with this project, we are the ones who are undignified. And if it needs to be us who lose our dignity, for the sake of restoring someone else’s, then that is perfectly worthwhile. Perfectly part of the project.

 Because, “I’ll become even more undignified that this.” – King David (2 Sam 6:22)

Shalom.

In the ultimate act of courage and humility, God extends himself to us. Even though we are geniuses at unreciprocated love, He stands with us. We are free to call Him Emmanuel, even after we flip him off.

There is a deep part of us humans that wants to be known and recognized. We want someone to call us by our name. We long, and search for home. Simultaneously, we battle the disillusionment we have experienced over and over, when such people forget us. When home collapses around us.

To truly create home for others, we are called to be faithful and present. So we keep extending our hands. Continue to remember names. We go out and search for those who have suppressed their search for home. Just as He consistently searches for us when we go astray. 

-       Oswald Chambers 

We must be careful to be faithful to His radical call, not preoccupied with how useful we may be. 

A friend recently told me she has felt challenged to do communion a lot more these days but she added, "not just in the literal sense." Love has been shed for us; let us now shed it abroad for others.

Shalom.

After two sudden deaths in our community I learned more fully what it means to “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 11:15). I was challenged to join in the joyful times of laughter and worship with friends, while sharing in the tears and embracing the sorrow of the wounded.

I also was challenged by a time when a couple guys discussed life and death on a road between Jerusalem and Emmaus (Luke 24: 13-35). They walked with “faces downcast” (verse 17). Similar to how I have felt at times. Christ’s journey on the road with them was an effort to convince them that “to suffer these things” was essential to “glory” (verse 26). Glory is a big word. I want to further discover the place that suffering has in our walk, as I have realized that it is essential, but I think I never realized how courageous it is to pray like Paul:

“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.”

(Philippians 3: 10-11)

Death isn’t the end of the story. This is what spurs us on to accept sacrifices, suffering, and death readily as we step in stride with Jesus.

This week a couple of us encountered a man from the drop-in community, but we didn’t know his name. Our interaction was awkward. It was difficult. We were subjected to a patronizing tone as we stood awkwardly on the ground where he clearly felt comfortable. We were guests. We were outside of our comfort zones, trying to serve, but clearly being pushed away (although he would then call us back as he clearly did want to talk). He cannot be blamed for his hostility. Even during the minutes we stood there chatting, handfuls of university students or older “responsible” adults walked by, many of whom muttered disparaging remarks or blatant insults, while others completely ignored his presence. No one offered anything.

This is how people forget what it is like to receive compassion. When all one is offered is silence, wintery glares or worse, it is difficult to remember how to extend hospitality to those that step into the circle of light on the pavement that is your “turf.” Although we weren’t welcomed with open arms, our loss of authority was important. We must continually learn how to pour love into the fault-lines in the armour used as emotional defence mechanisms. We must also recognize what kind of effect it has when we belittle or patronize those that step into our turf, where we hold the keys. 

A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. - Proverbs 18:24

How can I love Thomas authentically and make time for him, when Ned cruises by complaining of pains in his gut, Shauna chats away about her family issues, Peter invites me to watch a film with him, and meanwhile the voices of school, sports team commitments, family, and my relationship with God call out for my time? I know of a friend that sticks closer than a brother, but how can I properly imitate Christ in this way? I think we all feel like butter spread over too much bread sometimes.

A good friend reminded me recently that a friendship must be approached with the utmost sincerity, prayer, and wisdom. It is difficult to love others perfectly, and to balance all of the weight life throws at us. Friendship is an essential journey in life, and like all ships of this kind, it requires patience, discipline, and faithfulness in its sails, and love as its rudder. 

Faces from our community began to speed through my brain as I prayed. I will quote from what I wrote in my journal that night:

“I felt God telling us to move. To ‘climb.’ But not to climb alone. Not moving alone. First and foremost climbing as an offering – ‘hands wide open’ – surrendering to God, while acknowledging each other’s gifts and weaknesses.

…It was a call to seek what redemptive ‘Jubilee’ means for all of us as we seek first Christ and his kingdom in our lives. It is a call to faith in what lives God can transform. I saw members of our community (including ‘guests’ of Agape Café) not only as recipients of this vision, but as part of this communal striving towards Christ’s redemptive work. The year of Jubilee. Brought to you by some unexpected sources of wisdom, transformation, and life.

God is good.”

It was a wonder-filled journey. I am glad to be back.