September 08, 2006
Commanded
Over Labor Day weekend, I traveled to Destin for the Northpoint/Buckhead singles Labor Day Retreat and though I had no idea what to expect, my expectations were still blown away. Francis Chan, the senior pastor for Cornerstone Community Church in Simi Valley, Calif., was the retreat speaker and he challenged us, to say the least. One person said Francis was wrecking his world. He certainly wrecked mine.
Francis asked, "Do you ever read the New Testament and ask yourself, 'THAT is what the church looked like?' and then think, 'That's not what the American Church looks like...'" And I couldn't believe that he was articulating the thoughts in my heart.
It is ironic to non-believers, perhaps, that I have become more socially liberal, not less so, since I began walking closer to Him. I feel a constant pounding on my heart - thud, thud, thud - to care for the forgotten ones around me. I am trying to do it quietly, as it's about Him, about them knowing Him, and it is not about me. Maybe God placed me in E@st Point so that this spoiled little white girl could truly see how most Americans live. How it's not about race or class. It's about poverty. The unshakeable, ever-present poverty I see daily in my working class neighborhood. What would I see if I ventured a little farther south? A little farther downtown? If I stopped dreaming about helping New Orleans and got in my car and drove there and got my hands dirty?
Francis asked us - where does it say to give a little to the poor? It says be generous. Make things equal. The Bible doesn't say if I have two cookies and you have none that I only have to give you half a cookie. I should give you an entire cookie so that we'll each have one. (Andy Stanley's great cookie analogy that we spoke of a lot this weekend.)
I think the American Church is too caught up in politics and God-blessing America and they've forgotten that Jesus came to save ALL the nations. He came to save humanity, not just Red States. Sometimes I am so flabbergasted by the head-burying denial that I see sometimes, oftentimes, in the Church. We get wrapped up in our suburbs and our check writing and we forget that Jesus befriended the undesirable. He loved the unlovable. It's not about dropping a few dimes in the homeless man's Styrofoam cup (who can no longer actually ask for money as panhandling is illegal in downtown Atlanta and he will actually be arrested if he verbally asks for help). It's about looking him in the eye and loving him. Francis spoke a lot about his church's work in Africa, noble important work that needs to be done. But as he was speaking, I kept thinking -- We don't need to go all the way to Africa. We just need to live our rich little enclaves and go downtown!
People talk a lot about how the homeless and poor are simply a product of their own choices -- as if everything in life is as simple as that. As if your position in life has zero to do with where and to whom you were born. And of course people need to be responsible for their own lives, but you know what? Who cares how that guy in the wheelchair with no legs and five fingers ended up in front of my building. Who cares? I can still love him. I can still spare the extra $2 and buy him an extra chicken biscuit so at least he gets breakfast.
It is what has been commanded of me. Jesus said, Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your mind, all your soul and love your neighbor as yourself. Not tolerate your neighbors. Not pay an extra dollar at Christmas so some kid can get a can of green beans. Love them (that means all of them, which is crazy hard), not just the pretty ones or the white ones or the thin ones. Not just the neighbors who have matching Range Rovers and cut their lawns on a regular basis. It means I have to love my often-annoying neighbor Howard who makes me late for work in the mornings with his ramblings. But whose interaction with me in those 10 minutes may be the only human interaction he gets all day. It means I have to love people who say mean things about me or who treat me unfairly when I keep protesting, "But I didn't do anything!"
Francis asked, "Have you ever seen how they worship in other countries?" Autumn and I, fresh from Romania, whispered yes! I was overcome by the worship in Romania, where they were in direct communication with God, worshipping with a fire in their hearts. They just love Him! Buckhead Church is certainly a place that takes worship seriously and gives it the reverence it deserves, but sometimes I think people are just there to hear the band. What has happened in America that we talk a lot about God and use His name to justify things we want justified but we don't love Him very much? We don't consider that this song we're singing is an ode to the very one whose hands carved out the ocean? The giant, majestic ocean that, every time I see it, humbles me with its might.
If we want to quote Scripture and use it to defend our bigotry, then we better be prepared to have it quoted back on us and listen to what it says.
I have said it before and I will say it again: Jesus is the answer to every question I have ever asked. There is nothing in my life - no relationship, friendship, job, money issue - that cannot be framed in Him.
On our last night in Destin we took communion, one by one, and then walked from the ballroom, through the lobby, past the pool, out to the ocean. 800 adults walked in complete reverent silence, pondering the awesome sacrifice our God made for us as individuals. He didn't do it for a certain class or a certain race or a certain gender. He did it for me, personally. He did it for you. And all He asks in return is that we remember Him and that we love Him.
Once we got to the beach, Kristian Stanfill and Steve Fee were already out there, playing acoustically on their guitars. Some people dropped to the ground, knees in the sand. Others stood, hands raised. Others sat down next to their friends and gazed upon the emerald green of the Gulf of Mexico, still brilliant in the dusky light.
And then as a group, we walked to the shoreline where a group of people were waiting to be baptized. The earth was completely silent - all I could hear were the breaking of waves. Six men stood in the water, their hands folded in front of their chests, the ocean rocking them slightly back and forth, waiting. And then, one by one, believers walked out to them. It was incredible.
It's simultaneously uplifting and humbling to be surrounded by a group of people who believe what you believe; to be immersed in the living, breathing body of Christ and know that this life, as short and as frustrating as it can be, is all for Him. I do it all for Him.
Posted by hannah at 05:17 PM
