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How do we incarnate the body of Christ in this new frontier, this increasing wilderness? What do the roots of Christianity, of the apostles first forays into the world have to say for the church today? These are the questions that drive me. How are we to be the church in a culture that has forgotten the ways of Christ?

The call of the church today is to abandon its fortresses and to become nomads, following the breath of God as he fills the world with life; to pursue the shadow of an unrelenting and unceasing God that is passionately reclaiming what is his. I want to understand how he spoke through his first apostles as he called together and formed the body of believers in the upper room with his holy fire. I want to inhabit the words and minds of the ancient theologians and mystics that sought God above all else. Through all of this though I want to gain an understanding on how to inspire, lead, and bring others along on the narrow path, to one day see the new heavens and the new earth in all their glory, and to see the face of my savior and embrace his feet in awe.

This journey is both intimately personal, and at the same time impossible without being in community with other believers and unbelievers alike. For truly as the gospel states we all have sinned, and fallen short of God’s glory, but praise be the cross is sufficient for all who embrace it’s story.

-David

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Wednesday
04Nov2009

The Season Dark Is the Brightest Yet

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To say that introspection, when done genuinely, is a task of immense weight is an understatement.  There are few things less comfortable than turning your gaze into the nooks and crannies of our own being.  Once we have begun the practice of routinely moving the negative experiences of life into those dark and quiet places of our soul It can become a thing of dread to return to the landfills of our emotions and experiences that weight us down and supply the fuel for the furnaces of neurosis and the machines of self destruction that churn in our core.  There are few more adept at advocating our own damnation than ourselves should we take the tack of introspection.  This is true of saint and sinner alike, I know of no one that is excited to begin the work of inhabiting the fullness of themselves.

 

For myself this season of darkness is the culminate result of both a class, and a study of emotional health at church.  Ironically these events coincide to provide for an experience that while cathartic and revelatory is equally tiring and dread inducing as I anticipate what lurks around the next bend of my being.  The best way I could describe it is perhaps a sort of Tim Burton-esque atmosphere of macabre excitement as I allow Christ to shine light and trample the darkness.

 

In short this has been largely an exercise in coming to grips with God's grace through personal doubts and fears.  I wrote out the following prayer dialogue a couple of weeks back to help me process better the work Christ has done in me, and that he can do in you to.

 

Father,

I once had a closet where I would store all of the bad things I have done. Most of the times the door was closed, and when you came around I politely asked you to avoid that hallway. The funny thing is I never actually ventured into the room myself, just opened the door and chucked another bad deed in.

One day the door wouldn't shut anymore, and so I had to finally venture in. It was dark at first, the light had burned out long ago and no windows were there. I started to re-arrange my junk and reminisce my past sins. I thought I was all alone, but I had left the door open, and you politely knocked and asked me if you could move into my dark and hidden room.

At first I was taken aback, I wondered what exactly you meant? Shouldn't you have the master suite after all, or at least the nice guest room? But you insisted, and eventually I relented. "It's a terrible mess in here," I said.

You replied, "that's no problem, I would like to help you out."

I politely waved my hand and refused, "oh, you wouldn't want to get your hands dirty in here, let me try and get rid of all of this junk first and then you can come in."

"That's okay," you said, "I really like it in here and I think if you let me I can have this cleaned up in no time."

"No way!" I said, getting a little protective. "This is my mess to take care of!"

"David," you said so gently, "actually this is our mess, and I already paid the cleanup bill a while ago, why don't you let me help?"

Finally I relented, and you came through the door. I am not quite sure how it happened but everywhere you went in the room the darkness fled, the junk was made no more. Where there once was a place of darkness and dread, I now had a new place in which you could live.

"That was Amazing," I yelled!

Turning around you said, "You are forgiven my child! All that was dark in you has been made new in me, and you never have to be afraid of this place again!  Because no matter where you are, in here or out there, I will be with you!" And as you spoke those last words your arms embraced me, and they have never let go.

Amen.

Posted via email from David's posterous

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