The practice of walking on earth: Go barefoot

Most of us spend so much time thinking about where we have been or where we are supposed to be going that we have a hard time recognizing where we actually are.
BARBARA BROWN TAYLOR

The trail was listed as 2 miles. But it felt much longer.

In one of the last remaining virgin forests in North Carolina—the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest—the view was grand.

But the terrain was touchy. You had to go slow. Not only because of the incline, but because of tree roots and rocks and stumps.

You had to pay attention to where each foot landed.

You had to notice.

You had to stay grounded.

It’s a spiritual discipline to stay grounded. To remember how to walk on the earth as we live in the Kingdom.

To remember that where we are now may be just where we need to be. In this moment is where I AM resides.

Sometimes we do not know what we know until it comes to us through the soles of our feet, the embrace of a tender lover, or the kindness of a stranger.

Touching the truth with our minds alone is not enough.

We are made to touch it with our bodies.

Back home, the walk is easier. I leave my shoes unlaced in the closet. I walk barefoot outside, stepping quickly over the hot pavement to cool my toes in the grass. Ever watchful for thorny weeds or ant resorts, I still enjoy the sensation of nothing under my feet but earth. 

It’s when feet are uncovered they’re most aware of the ground.

To go barefoot is to live raw.
To notice each step.
To track the refined nuances of pain and pleasure.

To watch for prints of the One already rounding the earth so you can match his stride and pace your journey to his walking speed, slow enough to pay attention but fast enough to keep moving.  

So I walk.

With shoes off. On holy ground. Here and now.

When we stepped off the mountain trail after the supposed two miles had ended, our feet were tired.

But our souls were grounded.
 
* * *

What holy ground have you stepped on lately?

The spiritual discipline I’m practicing in June is “The practice of walking on the earth: Groundedness.”

• May 2013: The practice of physical labor
• April 2013: The practice of saying no
• March 2013: The practice of wearing skin
• February 2013: The practice of slowing down
• January 2013: The practice of waking up to God

The safe life?

I did it again last week.

And again, it hurt. Bumping my thigh on the corner of our bed frame left me this week with a beautifully-colored bruise as proof, a mark quite noticeable.

This world is not a safe place.

God is “not a tame lion.”
     (Aren’t we forever grateful to Lewis for that image?)

God is not in me to shower me with the blessings of short lines at Walmart, pretty shoes that don’t hurt my feet, ne’er an experience with chill bumps or sweat drops.

I don’t live in a bubble, gifted with perfect protection here just because I believe in Jesus.

But what I get is better, even though I’m still having to grow into that realization.

What I get is better because what I get is what I need.

Larry Crabb sums it up well in The Pressure’s Off:

What then is our greatest need? We need . . .

       radical forgiveness that makes it possible for unholy people to come near to a holy God and live;

       supernatural love that empowers naturally selfish people to care more about someone else other than themselves, thus revealing God;

       spiritual might that actually changes bad people into good people, not good merely by society’s standards—we have plenty of folks like that—but good like God, good enough to value ultimate goodness.

In my world, I’m vulnerable.
To lust of the flesh, of the eyes, to pride of life.

But in his world, I’m safer than I think.
From condemnation, from loneliness, from meaninglessness. 

Nonetheless, I’ll still bruise up, get headaches (and heartaches), and waste time in long lines.

It’ll leave marks on me.

But to encounter God in the midst of it all?

That’s the good life.
The saved life.
The only life worth living.

* * *

What dangers have you encountered lately?

What’s a sign you’re living the good life anyway?

Dirt under your fingernails? The practice of physical labor

He who is aching in every limb, worn out by the effort of a day of work, that is to say a day when he has been subject to matter, bears the reality of the universe in his flesh like a thorn.

The difficulty for him is to look and to love.

If he succeeds, he loves the Real.
- SIMONE WEIL

Can we use physical labor as a path to the heart of our Creator? As a way to know Jesus, to love Jesus?

Barbara Brown Taylor says in An Altar in the World, 

If all life is holy, then anything that sustains life has holy dimensions too.

The difference between washing windows and resting in God can be a simple decision: choose the work, and it becomes your spiritual practice.

. . . No task is too menial to serve as a path. If you are able to sustain other lives along with your own, then all the better.

May we use even our most menial tasks as holy offerings of love.

* * *

Is there a physical chore you hate to do?

How do you flip it mentally into a choice to bless others?

• April 2013: The practice of saying no
• March 2013: The practice of wearing skin
• February 2013: The practice of slowing down
• January 2013: The practice of waking up to God

To do or to be? Yes

If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing.
1 Corinthians 13:2 (Message)

It’s been four months since I started with this One Word 2013: Jesus thing.

On the outside, I added an extra layer of Gospel reading to my regular Bible reading schedule. I’ve learned more of how Jesus shows up in the Hebrew scriptures as well as in the New Testament stories in Jesus: A Theography; more about the culture of his time in Walking in the Dust of Rabbi Jesus; more about how to converse about him in ordinary ways in Speaking of Jesus. 

I’ve experimented with different spiritual practices of Jesus, like paying attention and wearing skin and observing a Sabbath. I’m learning how to surrender more to him with a weekly Centering Prayer group. I’m trying to take more risks in loving others like I think he would.

And doing this and that and the other and 
. . . blah, blah, blah.

While those things are fine—and I’ve benefited from each of them and pray I continue—those are only things I am DOING.

The more important question is:
     Who am I BEING?

We all know this truth: Without love, I am nothing.
If not for Jesus, I am empty.
The goal isn’t just to DO differently; it’s to BE different. 

I can’t make love happen on my own. I can mimic it on the outside through loving actions, but I can’t melt my own heart. For love to be alive, I need it to crawl inside me and live outward from there (Galatians 2:20).

And Jesus does.
Because Jesus is.

Inside, he’s working to get my BE right, so my DO will be richer, deeper, stronger. More real. More loving. More like him.

So I’ll try to keep DOING: learning and serving and praying.
     But it’s the BEING I’m really after.

Because I don’t only want to DO like Jesus (not that I’ll ever get there either!), I want to BE like Jesus.

If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.
1 Corinthians 13:3 (Message)

* * *

It’s our one word 2013 monthly check-in. What are you learning from your one word 2013?

The practice of saying no: Observe and remember

A being is free only when it can determine and limit its activity.
KARL BARTH

On Friday nights, observant Jews light two candles for the upcoming Sabbath, their day of rest.

1. A rest candle, for the Shabbat commandment “to observe”
   Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy, as the LORD your God commanded you. Deuteronomy 5:12
2. A freedom candle, for the Shabbat commandment “to remember”
   Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
   Exodus 20:8

In my year of One Word 2013: Jesus, I’m choosing April to practice saying “no” one day a week. As Barbara Brown Taylor says in An Altar in the World:

I have made a practice of saying no for one day a week: to work, to commerce, to the voice in my head that is forever whispering, “More.” One day each week, More God is the only thing on my list.

So I hope to light two candles once a week to remind me to say, “More Jesus, please.”

1. By observing rest
   Rest is God’s gift to the tired. Tired of catching up, tired of working hard, tired of learning more. Instead, rest in the finished work of Jesus. It is done.
2. By remembering freedom
   I’ve been set free from slavery to my own works. I want to remember and celebrate my liberation by living as if I truly am free: free from worries, free from condemnation, free from self.

If God could rest from his work, how much more should I be able to rest from mine.

When you live in God, your day begins when you let God raise you up, when you consent to rest to show you get the point, since that is the last thing you would do if you were running the show yourself.
BARBARA BROWN TAYLOR

* * *

Do you observe a day of rest each week? How easy or difficult is it?

RELATED:

• March 2013: The Practice of Wearing Skin
• February 2013: The Practice of Slowing Down
• January 2013: The Practice of Waking Up to God

“Jesus at the Center”

I heard this song for the first time last Sunday. Oh, how it resonates with me.

In this year for me of One Word 2013: Jesus, this song says it all.

So you can imagine how excited I was that at my first choir practice Thursday night with new (to me) fellow believers, we worshiped with this song in preparation for Easter services. The Lord is so good.

I pray you enjoy worshiping through it, too.

Jesus at the Center
Israel Houghton
LYRICS

Jesus at the center of it all
Jesus at the center of it all
From beginning to the end
It will always be, it's always been You Jesus
Jesus

CHORUS
Nothing else matters, nothing in this world will do
Jesus You're the center, and everything revolves around You
Jesus You

Jesus at the center of it all
Jesus at the center of it all

So Jesus be the center of my life
Jesus be the center of my life
From beginning to the end
It will always be, it's always been You Jesus
Oh Jesus

CHORUS

BRIDGE
From my heart to the Heavens
Jesus be the center
It's all about You
Yes it's all about You

* * *

It’s the mid-month review of our one word 2013.

Do you have a one word for the year?

The practice of wearing skin

Our bodies are where our souls live.

We're not always happy with our house. The floors creak more than they used to, the walls need repainting, the appliances are starting to go.

But if God is good—and he is—and if God is powerful—and he is—then he lives with us in the center of this broken-down house.

So let’s be fully present in our skin. Let’s practice wearing it well. 

* * *

How can you use your hands this week to be the hands of Jesus?

• February 2013: The practice of slowing down
• January 2013: The practice of waking up to God

3 verses, 3 people, 1 Word

    For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
    so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.
    For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace.
Isaiah 55:10-12a

It was two days ahead of Ash Wednesday. We gathered to listen to Isaiah 55:10-12a.

Be present in it. Be changed through it.
 
1. Alison, responsible for preparing the Lenten service at her church, felt restless, not quite prepared. Until she heard the words, “You shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace.”

They were enough. Instead of fretting about the finishing touches on her lesson, she now relaxed, trusting that Jesus would guide her into the homestretch with joy and peace as she concluded preparations. 

2. Another heard the message of purpose. Change was becoming a constant in his life. Changes from years ago, last month, this week. But through the Lord’s words to Isaiah, he heard, “It shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”

They assured him that the Lord purposes each life’s change. And that all would be well in his.

3. I, too, listened to the verses. Hearing about the rain “watering the earth, making it bring forth and sprout,” I was reminded how Jesus ripens things in his perfect timing, not rushed or hurried. 

And so the now of this season continues to ripen for me. In this year of One Word: Jesus, I’m not to solely learn more about him, but also to walk more actively with him. It’s time. Go places and do things and love people. Together.

The Word—recorded by Isaiah thousands of years ago—still returns a harvest. In different ways in different lives in different times, but for the same reason—to accomplish his purpose.

Only Jesus always succeeds in the things for which he is sent, never returning empty.

Only the Living Word is that fertile. That fresh. That faithful.

* * *

What scripture has spoken to you lately?

Love at Table # 12, please

The twenty-five round tables were already clothed in soft black when we arrived, eight chairs neatly circled round each.

Like the other duos dressed in black pants and white shirts on this shiny Saturday morning, Jenna and I gathered napkins, plastic cutlery, and peppermints from the main serving table to set up our Table # 12.

The church lobby was being transformed into holy ground. No longer a space just to mill about and greet your neighbor, it was becoming a proper sit-down restaurant, awaiting more than a hundred special guests. The annual Kings Banquet.

The first bus rolled in. Then another. Our guests unloaded. Six of them—men of various sizes, outfits, and personalities—quietly took a seat around Table # 12.

Homeless men. Men accustomed to standing in a food line. Or gathering scraps to throw together. Or grilling over a campsite fire.

But not today. Today, these men and women were about to be treated like kings and queens.

Granted, Jenna and I lacked the serving credentials necessary for royalty. Nevertheless, we properly pestered our patrons with, “Can I get you some sweet tea? More coffee?”

And when the catered food came hot out of the ovens, we served up six plates piled high with ham and turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, vegetables, rolls, and a separate plate with carved roast beef. “Second helpings, anyone? Chocolate cake? Banana pudding? Both?”

I tried not to cry.

Not out of pity for the men. But out of gratitude for the opportunity to make friends with them.

To swap things around for a couple of hours. To override our differences. To see we were more alike than you’d assume.

• To learn the pony-tailed gentleman has a 23-year-old daughter like me, and he doesn’t get to see his either as much as he’d like because she’s in California and he’s in Alabama
• To ask the man with the book who his favorite authors are (he named three, including Terry McMillan), and discovering he loves reading as much as I do, and that we may have crossed paths at the same public library
• To talk with the big-smile guy about visiting different churches, and inviting him to come to ours when he can, and watching him smile again when I said that

Sure, we had some obvious differences, too. They were dressed in heavy coats and warm hats, critical gear for outside sleeping. Some were exceptionally quiet, reluctant to participate in casual dinner conversation. None were constantly checking cell phones or pulling out iPods.

But the more we talked, the more the similarities surfaced.

And the empty chair at Table # 12?

I wondered if it wasn’t quite the fullest seat of them all. By someone more like us than we knew. Someone who’d fit right in with the least of these, himself knowing homelessness for a season.

Had Jesus been here in the flesh, he’d have looked these brothers in the eye when he talked. Smiled when they responded back. Penetrated to their very souls with hope and grace and forgiveness.

With love.

But now he partnered to do it through us. Through me. Me—the one doing a lousy job with any of those. I didn’t even get everyone’s first name.

After a few praise songs, a short talk, and prayers, the men stood up to go back to wherever they had come from. They left us with thank you’s. Smiles. Hugs. The greatest tips we could receive.

Table # 12 was now empty. We threw away the plates. Stacked up the chairs. Put the centerpieces away.

But the love from Table # 12 lingers full on my insides.

Maybe I’ll see one or two of these men around town—at the library or Manna House or on the streets. Maybe we’ll share another smile. And if the circumstances are right, maybe we’ll have another conversation.

And that other guest at Table # 12?

May his royal presence continue reminding us we’re all made in his image, so we’ll judge each other less and love each other more. Be less critical and more caring. Notice fewer of our differences and more of our shared humanity.

Even if poorly and only for a moment. On a wintry Saturday morning. Around Table # 12.

* * *

More than a biography — “Jesus: A Theography”

The end product of biblical Christianity is a person—not a book, not a building, not a set of principles or a system of ethics—but one person in two natures (divine/human) with four ministries (prophet/priest/king/sage) and four biographies (the Gospels). 
LEONARD SWEET AND FRANK VIOLA, Jesus: A Theography

What’s this book about?
Jesus. Totally.

Jesus from before time. Jesus in creation. Jesus in the stories of the Old Testament (or First Testament, as the authors call it to emphasize unity between the Old and New). Jesus in the flesh in the Second Testament accounts. Jesus now. Jesus still to come.

Jesus is the human face of God.

He is also the inbreaking of the eternal into time. This is a good definition of the kingdom of God, which is embodied in Jesus.

Why you’d like it
It will show you new ways to see Jesus now by seeing him anew in old stories. Some you’re familiar with: Jesus as deliverer (Moses); Jesus as Shepherd (David); Jesus as sacrifice (lamb). Jesus as the new Solomon, the new Temple, the new Elijah.

But authors Sweet and Viola include other nuances as well, such as Jesus as the new Joseph, the new Isaac, and even the new Boaz (our kinsman-redeemer). The gospel of John as the new Genesis. The parallels between the days of creation and Jesus. The church as the new Eve. Jesus as personification of the Torah. The day of Pentecost as the reversal of Babel.

During His ministry, Jesus spoke on four issues more than He did anything else:
     1. The kingdom of God—the manifestation of God’s ruling presence, here now and yet coming.
     2. Life—the eternal life that is embodied in Himself. A life that would be imparted to His followers after His resurrection. A life that they would live by.
     3. His Father—the offer to have a relationship with God as Father, the same relationship He had with the Father.
     4. Himself—He (Jesus) was the fulfillment of the entire First Testament story and promises.

This book aims to bring a new connectedness not just between Old (or First) Testament and New (or Second) Testament, but between all the stories and Jesus. The narratives, metaphors, signs, and symbols all point to Jesus—either his person, his work, or his character. 

Why you might not read it
It is long—over 400 pages. But the length is necessary to get all the material in.

And note that about 1/3 of the book is end notes (which are interesting in themselves, by the way). So the book’s length isn’t quite as daunting as it may first appear.

You might not agree with everything (but if that were a legitimate reason for not reading a book, we’d never read anything, right?!). A few analogies here and there were stretched (to me). But overall, I found it invigorating and thought-provoking.

Some may or may not take offense at this (I don’t):

The Bible in itself is not the Word of God. The Word of God is a person (John 1:1).

Neither does the Bible have life, power or light in itself any more than did the Jewish Torah. These attributes may be ascribed to the Bible only by virtue of its relationship to Him who is Word, Life, Power and Light.

Life is not in the book, as the Pharisees supposed, but only in the Man of the book (John 5:39).

. . . The Bible isn’t about salvation; it’s about Jesus Christ. Salvation is one of the things Christ does. But Jesus is far more than Savior.

Do I recommend you read it?
Definitely. It can give you a greater appreciation of God’s big plan throughout time to reveal himself to us through his Son.

The person of Jesus, not the red letters, is the crux of the story. The righteousness of God is revealed in red on the cross, not in red ink on the page.

The more you know him, the more you know you’re loved by him. And the more you know he loves you, the more you’ll love him back.

At the Jordan River the Father’s voice was heard from the heavens, saying, “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

Consider those words for a moment. Before His baptism, Jesus had done no ministry yet. He had healed no sick person. He had set no one free. He had not selected His disciples, or done any mighty works for God.

And yet the Father’s full pleasure was upon Him.

There is a message here for every adopted child of God. God’s pleasure is not based on what you do for Him. It’s based on whether you are His child.

________________________________________

Title: Jesus: A Theography
Author: Leonard Sweet and Frank Viola
Publisher: Thomas Nelson (2012)
Available at: Thomas Nelson | Amazon

* * *

MY THANKS TO THOMAS NELSON
FOR THE REVIEW COPY OF THIS BOOK

The practice of slowing down

Talking around my kitchen table this morning. And linking up tonight around other kitchen tables for the Soli Deo Gloria party, because Jen is . . .

Inspiring women to just keep it real

Books I’m using this year for spiritual disciplines:

• An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith by Barbara Brown Taylor
• The Good and Beautiful God: Falling in Love with the God Jesus Knows by James Bryan Smith

The most important aspects of our lives cannot be rushed. We cannot love, think, eat, laugh or pray in a hurry.
JAMES BRYAN SMITH

Full disclosure to keep it real:

• I didn’t move the clutter or old newspapers off my kitchen counter for you, but I did pause the washer and dryer
• I didn’t put on any makeup or fix my hair (just got out of the shower actually), but I did put on a smidgeon of lip gloss because my mama always said a woman needs a little bit of color
• I didn’t tell you up front that I really don’t like making vlogs because of, well, a million reasons, but I did one despite all my reasons not to

* * *

Without your story of the gospel . . .

Sister Elisabeth made me wonder. At the Benedictine Sisters Retreat, she asked us, “Can you imagine not having one of the gospels?”

We were spending the day looking at the gospel of Luke. While Luke shares many stories of Jesus also found in the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and John, he has many unique ones as well.

Without Luke’s account—or any one of the four—we would have an incomplete picture of Jesus.

Without the meticulous documentation of Luke, we would:

• Never know that baby John jumped in Elisabeth’s womb when Jesus, in Mary’s womb, came to visit
• Never hear the beautiful Magnificat sung by Mary when she found out she’d mother the Son of God
• Never know that lowly shepherds were the chosen ones to first hear the good news of Jesus’ birth
• Never read how the elderly Simeon and Anna praised baby Jesus in the temple after waiting, waiting, waiting on him for years
• Never hear a word about 12-year-old Jesus staying behind in Jerusalem to talk with the teachers
• Never be aware that Jesus turned water into wine at a wedding
• Never hear the story of the Good Samaritan or the parables of the prodigal son or the lost sheep or the rich fool or the watchful servant or the rich man and Lazarus or the persistent widow
• Never grasp the hospitality of Martha and Mary
• Never feel the joy of the widow at Nain whose only son was raised by Jesus or the crippled woman healed on the Sabbath or the ten lepers who were made clean

Without these rich pictures of Jesus through the stories of Luke (and other exclusive ones not listed here), we’d know Jesus a little less. Less of his prayer life, his compassion for outcasts, his radical kindness toward women, his joyfulness.

So I wonder. . .

Without you, without me, without others who know Jesus now, would our image of Jesus be a little fuzzier, a little poorer, knowing a little less about him? While we all share common stories, we all have unique ones as well.

• The same Good News but a variety of voices
• The same Hero but a mixture of stories
• The same Family but oh, such diverse members

I grow a little more when I hear your stories of Jesus; perhaps you’re helped when you hear a little more of mine. So you keep telling yours; I’ll keep telling mine.

And together, we’ll know Jesus more and more.

* * *

If you listen, you’ll hear

I hadn’t planned to chase him into a monastery.

You listen for One Word to follow into the new year.
 
I hear my One Word—my Logos—“Jesus.”

Then, barely one week steeped in January, I am listening when he says, “Follow me here.”

What else can I do?

But go.

To Sacred Heart Monastery.
For a one-day retreat: “Listening to Luke” with the Benedictine Sisters.

I’ll be listening for Jesus.

But I’m not Catholic. I’m not familiar with the liturgies. With the elaborate artwork. Not even with much of the vocabulary.
 
So Sister Elisabeth tells me, “Listen to everything.”

Listen not only with my ears, but with all my senses. I listen to her. Gentle. Peace-filled. Assured.
     •    I hear confidence in Jesus.

I listen to my new Catholic friend Mary answer my questions during break and tour me through the chapel after lunch and explain rituals not easily explained.
     •    I hear the grace of Jesus.

I listen to voices, united, reciting Psalm 124 for the midday prayer.
     •    I hear the deliverance of Jesus.

I listen to Sister Benita explain the sisters’ move from Louisiana to Alabama because they take care of their own.
     •    I hear the compassion from Jesus.

I listen to the beauty in Mary’s Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55), read aloud, then sung to music. 
     •    I hear obedience to Jesus.

I listen to my own heart as I walk the grounds, soaking in the statues, the stillness, the serenity.
     •    And I hear my Beloved. And my Beloved hears me.

Where will he bid we go next?

I can’t say.
But I can be listening.

* * *

What unexpected place have you heard Jesus speaking lately?

Where is God’s house?

I worry about what happens when we build a house for God.

...Do we build God a house so that we can choose when to go see God? Do we build God a house in lieu of having God stay at ours?

What happens to the rest of the world when we build four walls—even four gorgeous walls—cap them with a steepled roof, and designate that the House of God?

What happens to the people who never show up in our houses of God?
- BARBARA BROWN TAYLOR, An Altar in the World

Here is the church
Here is the steeple
Open the door
And see all the people

But what about when there are no doors?
No steeple?
Where are the people?
Where can God live?

It’s Saturday morning. It’s cold.

But it’s the first Saturday of the month and that means Outdoor Church behind Manna House. A gathering for those who believe (and maybe don’t but want to) who don’t feel comfortable and/or welcome inside the “houses of worship” sprinkled throughout the city.

I can’t say I know how they feel. I’ve generally felt welcome wherever I’ve visited.

But then again, I can play the part. Clean clothes. Showered body. Arrival in a heated SUV.

These folks mainly come by foot. Maybe with alcohol on their breath. Many with cigarettes in their pockets.

(Shouldn’t they give those up?
Their lives would be better if they did,
but aren’t there things I need to give up, too? 
God can’t wait on us to get it all together.
He kicks down the door, Come! Just as you are.)

And today, once again (almost always?), I question my part. 

I stand in the bedroom, after putting on three layers of shirts and a couple pairs of socks, and ask Jeff, “Tell me again why I’m going?”

I’ve caught him at a weak moment, too. The pull to spend the day on our personal projects at home is strong this morning for both of us.

But he conquers his and answers, “Because there’s somebody there you can love on.”

I buy it. I get in the car. We drive into town.

My 2013 One Word is Jesus. My January focus is “The practice of waking up to God.” So I want to wake up to Jesus in Outdoor Church this morning. I want to be Jesus in Outdoor Church to those who need to see him.

But when we get there, we’re alone.

No volunteers’ cars in the parking lot preparing a hot meal for the hungry after the service. No chairs set up outside for the guests. No guitars set up for the worship band.

No people.

This is why I came? For nothing?
Where is this person I was supposed to love on?

But does God let anything happen for nothing? I know “no.” Maybe he knew I needed a push out the door so I wouldn’t mourn all day that Jenna went back to Auburn that morning. Maybe he knew I needed to prepare my heart to serve even if there would be no one there to serve.

Maybe, just maybe, he wanted me to pleased with his presence alone, to “have church” with him, to know he is enough.

To realize he is the one I’m to love on.

So Jeff and I drive on. Drop a few books off at the library. Meander the back roads home. Take off all the extra layers. 

And feel satisfied.

The Outdoor Church will gather again another day. But this waking up to God, discovering yourself in his house—it can happen anytime, anywhere. Without doors, without steeples. And sometimes even without people. 

Where is God’s house?

It’s here.
It’s now.
And it’s full.

* * *

Where have you seen God lately?

One word 2013 – Jesus

Is this a cop-out? Choosing “Jesus” as my One Word for 2013?

Most of the words that we choose for One Words are implicitly about Jesus at their core already. Mine in years past:

2012 Venture (with Jesus) 
2011 Breathe (in Jesus) 
2010 Depend and Delight (on Jesus)

But this year, I want to focus in as tightly as I can go. And when all is said and done, what’s at the center?

Jesus

So as simple as it seems, Jesus will be my one word and heartbeat for 2013 (and always, I pray!).

I want to read through the gospels in a fresh version (The Voice). I’m halfway through Jesus: A Theography. Also on my reading list is Walking in the Dust of Rabbi Jesus and Simply Jesus. And Love Does because what good is the knowing without the doing? 

So on the doing side, one concrete goal is to live out a different discipline each month, beginning in January with Vision—The practice of waking up to God. To become more like Jesus, to love Jesus more, to love others more through Jesus. 

I’m aware that planning can only be a rough draft for living, yes? How the Spirit will choose to blow through will surely surprise me, as he always does.

But with Jesus beside me and in me, even when it’s hard, it’s all good, and even when I can’t see it, it’s all grace. That’s Jesus.

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Have you chosen One Word for 2013? Please share.