Thinking Beyond Ourselves

As I sat in the quiet of the Rockies a couple of weeks ago, enjoying the views above, I found myself in thought and prayer about many things.  Found God taking me to many different places as I spent the week in quiet and solitude with Him.  One of those places was back to India and Bangladesh, to the cities and villages visited there, to churches like the one you see below, a gathering of believers meeting outside in a village in Eastern India.

This group of believers, this church numbering about 75-100 people is only two years old, meaning that each of these folks have come to know Christ within the last two years, out of an Animistic background.  Yet meeting with them, I was struck by their focus as a church, the focus really of all the church leaders that I found I had the privilege to spend time with.  One thing that struck me about the leaders I spent time with in India and Bangladesh was their commitment and their focus of seeing unreached peoples coming to know Christ.  The hours I spent with them in prayer as they poured out their hearts to God asking Him to save their state and their country.  As they spoke about future plans for the church, it was all about which village might God be calling them to next.  They existed to worship God and take that worship to people who have yet come to know this God.  It was the focus it appeared of all they did.  And this was being done in a context where persecution has existed, and people have died for their belief in Jesus.  They enter this knowing it may cost them their lives, and yet inspite of that, exists this belief that they exist to bring others to the glorious truth of Jesus Christ and what he has done for them.  It seemed a church that was soaked with the idea that they exist for what lies beyond their walls and their own comfort and needs being met.

As I sat in the beauty of God's creation, I found myself troubled as I think of the Western church these days, a church seeking to worship God in a consumeristic culture, seeking so often to have our own needs met, our own desires met, somehow thinking this is the purpose of the church.  And I am saddened many days realizing that our consumeristic mentality has crept into our view of the local church.  I am fully aware that one cannot guage everything on a few weeks, and we often tend to look at things through rose colored glasses.  I do not mean to, nor wish to do that, as I continue to reflect on my time in Asia.  However, one difference between the church in the West and the church I experienced in India was this very thing.  While they were asking how do we continue to spread the gospel?  How do we reach the unreached people in our country?  We are asking what will this church do for me?  Will it meet my needs?  Will I like how they do it?   Will there be something for everyone in my family?  I ponder sometimes if we have become somewhat overfed in the West, and thus we have forgotten why the bride of Christ exits - to worship God and to bring others into the worship of our great God.  Being a church that visibly displays the glory of God to the culture around it.

While the church I experienced in India was thinking evangelism reguarly, we struggle to think beyond ourselves, forgetting I believe, that our call is not simply about us, but rather to display God's reality to the world outside our four walls.  I'm not sure we should be asking questions like what will this church do for me, but rather, 'as this church worships the glorious truth of who God is, is it a church that has it's sole core and purpose, bringing the gospel to those who don't know Christ, as they worship this God'.

It is interesting to note that while in our consumeristic 'spiritual' culture much of our church growth is often a moving around of the body of Christ to other locals, a relocation so to speak.  While in Asia it appaers the church is growing and an incredible missions movement is rising up out of Eastern India and Bangladesh.  Should give us something to question and reflect upon!

Be Still and Know That I Am God

As I write this I am enjoying the view from the observation car of a VIA train, rolling over the prairies.  I find myself aboard this train, heading back from Kingsfold Retreat Center near Cochrane Alberta, on my way home from a week long Ignatian Silent Retreat.

What a rich week to sit in the quiet presence of God, in a tiny little chapel in the woods, in the majestic view of the Rocky Mountains, immersing myself in Scripture with the occasional foray into the writings of Nouwen, Peterson and Dostoyevsky.  In the gospels we see time and time again where Jesus would depart from the crowds, depart from the rigors of ministry, depart from the everyday life to go and sit in the presence of His Father in prayer.  Departing from the distractions of the phone, the internet, the news, the sports scores – these things we find so difficult to leave behind.  Doing this in quiet without speaking is such a rich experience.  Found myself as the week went along slipping into a very restful, peaceful place – a place where I found myself not needing nor wishing to speak any words – but rather listen to the voice of God.  Though words have much power and are used very constructively, often our words are merely trappings we get caught up in.

When one sits with a group of people in silence we are free from these trappings – free from finding our identity in what we tell people about ourselves; who we are, what we do, how big the church is that we pastor, free from espousing the supposed wisdom I think resides within my brain – the things we so often seek our identity in.  Rather we sit together in the presence of the one who has given us all of our identity through His Son’s work on the cross on our behalf, and there is such rest and peace in that place.  Such a peace in being able to again commit all things to a sovereign God, knowing that He is the one in control of things, freeing me up to 'be still and know that He is God'.  So as the week moved along, I found myself moving from the anxiety, nervousness and fear of being quiet and alone, to a place of soaking up the solitude and quiet, fearful of again uttering words, for fear of losing this delightful place with God.  Yet in that, realizing we come to a greater depth and a place of uttering words of greater significance, if they come from a place of quiet and solitude.

Not long before I ventured out on this week, Monica and I had been conversing on the fact that so often we speak far too many words, many of them are not needed and often times many of our words simply lead us into sin.  Arsenius once said “I have often repented of having spoken, but never of having remained silent”.  Though I have at times repented of having remained silent, I resonate with the words of Arsenius because I believe there is much truth in them.   Psalm 39:1 says I will keep my mouth from sin; I will put a muzzle on my mouth.  And Proverbs 10:19 states when words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise.  And of course James 3 speaks of the incredible struggle of controlling out tongues.

Perhaps this is why Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time to be silent and a time to speak.  Understanding there is a time to be quiet, in the presence of our God.  Listening to the voice of God, enjoying communion with Him in quiet and solitude, in order that the words we speak come out of this place, so we are uttering words that have meaning and significance for the world around us.

So I thank God for the grace and gift of this time with Him this week, a week with the quiet among the Rockies, that will seem a long way off when I fly off to the noise of Washington DC this week, for the 9 Marks Weekender! 

Contemplating on Psalm 78

I find myself today sitting here in the town I grew up in – in the rhythm of rest and contemplation -in the place that shaped and molded me, and impacted so much of my life.  Taking a few days here with my parents, spending time with them, before heading out for my week of quiet and solitude.  As they grow older (as do I) I cannot help but think again of the foundation and question of many of my prayers on my sabbatical: ‘does anyone ever really enjoy life while they live it, every , every minute’.  Find myself wanting to be truly thankful and enjoy every minute we have together as we grow older, realizing we do not know how many more such moments we may have together.  And thus, enjoy and live every moment while we live it. 

Began the morning reading and thinking about Psalm 78, a Psalm that calls God’s people to remember God’s faithfulness, and all that He has brought them through – calling them to worship God in the midst of this, recalling how faithful He has been.

 Spent the early part of the morning having breakfast with my parents and their Saturday morning breakfast club at the local hotel.  Realized the passing of the years as I sat with these people – as I viewed their declining health and aging bodies, remembering the times of my growing up years and the impact these individuals had in my life as they were involved in the church I grew up in.  Then spent a chunk of the morning taking my morning jog – around the town and the places that were significant to me growing up.  Past the railway tracks and the trails we used to ride our dirt bikes on and the open patches of grass that were home to untold games of grass hockey (especially now as the playoffs are in full swing).  Past the cemetery where numerous of my relatives are buried, people who were so special to me as I grew up in this town.  Running past a cemetery is always a good place to reflect on our own immortality, and a time to ask the question if we are prepared to die – understanding that we only live well, when we know how to die well.

 The route took me past the schools I attended as a young boy, homes of my boyhood friends recalling  the  times we spent together.  Past the places of my first employment (working for our local town crew, and later a local gas station), and the ball diamonds, football, and soccer fields where I enjoyed these sports as a young boy.  Of course that included running by what remains of the arena that was used when I grew up – the arena of my greatest athletic joy – playing on a midget  team that won the provincial championships when I was in High School.  Brought a smile to my face thinking of that old dilapidated  building where probably 1,000 people from my town watched us win that game.   And close to some of these, the photography studio where Monica and I had our wedding pictures taken almost 22 years ago.

 Then I ran by the church I grew up in and recalled with such fondness the years growing up there as a young boy and the significance of that community in my life.  And though like God’s people have always wondered from Him at times, myself being no different, it was the early years in that faith community that shaped and molded my faith and taught me about the worship of God and His kindness in sending His Son to save us – that which is now the foundation of my life.

Oh, the memories as I ran by the little house where my Grandma grew up, recalling the many meals I ate in that tiny house, and the memories of me and my 30+ cousins running around that yard.  Took a turn down the street that I spent the first 12 years of my life, and recalled with fondness the friends that lived in each of those houses and the fun we had as young boys.  Recalling the untold hours we spent playing ‘cops & robbers’; kick the can and hours of road hockey games – games that could last so long I remembered the day I came home with frost bite on my feet because I just needed to stay out till the game was won.  And to think of the streets we drove down with trucks full of crab apples as young teens, engaging in crab apple wars (one of the popular activities for me and my friends growing up).  Oh those seem like distant memories in our culture of video games (which did not exist then) and our world of every game and sport being so highly organized.  And filled with that was recalling the pain and fear I encountered on our street, when a young girl was brutally murdered a few houses from where I lived when I was a 10 year old boy.

 It was hard to not to think of the many great times I had growing up in this town, along with recalling some of the stupid choices I made as a young boy – which caused a fair bit of gratitude this morning that God was faithful and I am still here in spite of all that, and thankful for the family and community that God allowed me to grow up in.

 So as I thought about Psalm 78, I was filled with my own recollections of God’s faithfulness to His covenant in my life.  As I look back and recalled all that God has brought me through in my almost 50 years of life, the times and events that have molded and shaped me – it was hard to not think of Psalm 78 and my own reflections of the wonder of the God we worship and His goodness in our lives.

Following the advice of Rabbi Heschel

Have found myself in the last couple of weeks, remembering the words of Rabbi Heschel who said that 'the one who works with his mind, sabbaths with his hands'.  Have been enjoying a rhythm of labor lately (you may recall I shared about the various rhythms I was hoping for my sabbath to entail), laboring in the confines of my bathroom - ripping apart, putting back together, painting, installing tile.  Have enjoyed the feeling of going to bed with a tired and sore body, and a rested and refreshed mind.  And as I've worked and listened to the ageless music of Keith Green, have found myself pondering many things - reflecting on my life, the church as I see it, the church I witnessed in India and Bangladesh (yes still trying to comprehend all of those thoughts), and so will simply over the next bit share some of my musings with you - in no particular order.  I might add as well, much of my reflecting these days is impacted by the words of Thomas A Kempis, William Law, Brother Lawrence - a few of the wise old sages I find myself reading in these days.

Monica and I had the chance to visit another church together the other day - very different than our usual place of worship.  Different in the sense that it was only about 15-20 people.  As we worshipped together I found myself struck by the simplicity and the quaintness of our time together.  In many ways it felt like a home Bible study group that was blessed to have their own building to worship in.  What struck me about this experience, was the tension such a setting has in the midst of our consumeristic culture and faith.  I thought about the fact that this church could not rely on all of its programs and ministries to feed people's faith.  In a church that small, with a lower budget, one cannot offer all of the stuff that appeals to our desire for more and more.  Yet I find myself asking and wondering if there is not much good in that.  When one does not have all the 'dressings' to feed one's faith, it really is left to you and God.  I wonder sometimes if all we have and do as a western church - has produced a people that hunger after God intensely, or has it left us relying on things to constantly feed our faith - and the reality is sometimes our faith becomes guaged by what we are doing and participating in, rather than daily, delighting in the simple truth that I am a messed up sinner who has been saved by the grace of God - and that is such good news that I should simply want to live to share this message with the world around me.

Was enjoyable to enter a place that at first glance I thought wow, there may not be much happening here, to realizing that they may be staged in a greater place to enjoy the absolute beauty of knowing Jesus and delighting in Him above all things.

Next time I write to you may be from the foothills of Alberta as I get set to head out for a week long, Ignatian silent retreat.  A week with just me and my thoughts in quiet - both exciting and very scary!!