when 'inspiration' isn't enough

'Inspiring'. It seems that we are always using that word in some form or another when referring to a book, a sermon or a song. Unfortunately, I have found it to be churchy for, "Somewhere deep inside that stirred a little emotion in me, I think the Seahawks are playing on Channel 2." Honestly, how many times have you heard people in a church say they love what the preacher has to say? "He's so down to earth", "Our preacher is so inspirational", "That boy can really preach it" but then for some reason the congregation isn't convicted into any action. Inspiration ends in lip service.

Don't get me wrong; I'm guiltier than anyone in this matter! In a recent fall cleaning, I threw a slew of 'inspiring' magazines, newspapers and assorted clippings into the recycle bin because they were only 'inspiring'. We must allow our inspiration to spill into action. As in, "Sunday's sermon motivated me to go downtown tomorrow night and share the love of Jesus with people who may not experience it otherwise...who's with me?" or "I'm writing this piece to locate people who feel like I do so we can share ideas, make some plans and move to action in serving the elderly of our community."

I don't know about you, but I'm tired of only being inspired. As a leader in the church, I don't want to only be inspirational. With Christ and for the sake of His name, I want to be a catalyst, I want to initiate, I want to mobilize. Jesus didn't come to inspire us; he came to transform us. In the same way, he desires to use us to transform Grants Pass and the Rogue Valley. Frankly, this will take more than Sunday lip service from all of us; it's going to require action. Let's roll!

playing the fool reposted from disciple13

by Adam Martin of disciple13

I’ve been thinking some about the practicality of Jesus’ teaching lately. You know, pondering it’s relevance for day-to-day living. I’ve arrived at two conclusions, and, to be honest, they leave me more unsettled than anything else.

On the one hand there is a degree to which living as Jesus prescribes yields obvious rewards, not just beyond death but right here and now. If you’re nice to people, they’re typically nice right back to you. You forgive, you get forgiven. You love, you get loved. In fact, it is this very balance that gets preached most here in America—kind of a you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-yours theology. We assume that this is what Paul means when he writes that “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him,” (Romans 8:28). Living selflessly may be hard for a time, but the real truth is that you get back what you give. So your selfless living is really more like a deposit in the Karma bank. You’re gonna get it back.

The problem is that doesn’t mesh very well with what Jesus actually taught. Consider, for example, the Sermon on the Mount found in Mathew 5-7. Many believe this to be Jesus’ greatest sermon. Okay, I can understand that given the scope and depth of what He says, but most of us hold this particular teaching at arms length, refusing to really dive into it and examine ourselves in the light of it.

Jesus begins with what we call the beatitudes. We like to teach these in Sunday school. To small children. We talk about this like they’re poetic and “nice”. Nice? Here’s what I mean: some of the beatitudes make sense to me—blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, are merciful, are pure in heart and are peacemakers. I can understand these as noble character traits. But blessed are the poor in spirit? Those who mourn? The meek? Those who are persecuted? That’s blessing? This is Jesus’ practical teaching on how to live? “Be sad, be spiritually bankrupt, suppress your strengths and rejoice when people pick on you—then you are truly blessed.” Does anyone else have a hard time swallowing this?

This is the sense in which Jesus’ teachings are anything but relevant, particularly in a culture like ours. We love power and independence and being happy. We would never want anything but those things, let alone pursue their opposites.

And really when you consider Jesus’ teachings regarding being nice and forgiving and loving, even those are more than you bargain for. Jesus says to love our enemies. Our enemies. Not just the bully who picked on you in the fifth grade or that guy at the office who you can’t stand—our enemies. People like terrorists and rapists, killers and child molesters. Yeah, love them. And not love from a distance. Oh, no. Not this “Well, I love them with the love of the Lord” stuff. No, real love. Love that can be seen in action. Love like the kind of love you have for yourself or your family. Love that visits them in jail, for example.

Try that on for size. It’s hard. Really hard.

So this is what I’ve been thinking about and I’ve been hitting my head up against the reality that our culture isn’t very well situated for this kind of a life. I mean, folks here in America, “Christian” though we may be, wouldn’t be too crazy about someone who took all of Jesus’ teachings seriously and actually tried to live like that. People would think you were nuts. You kind of would be. When I read Paul and he says we should be “fools for Christ” it sounds poetic to me and kind of cool. This just sounds crazy.

But that’s what Jesus calls for. Given the course of His life, we shouldn’t be surprised. The “suffering servant” has, in fact, called us to follow Him. We act like it’s exciting and fun. It can be, but more often than not, when you get past the warm-fuzzy part, it’s as scary as it is anything else. This playing the fool stuff. This following Jesus. This social revolution.

blessed with sweet nausea...

One day when Francis was riding to Assisi, he saw a leper on the road. He reached out to embrace the leper and actually gave him the kiss of peace. While embracing this filthy, diseased outcast, Francis said, he was overcome by a dual sensation. One was nausea. The other was a sense of sweetness and well-being. Like Francis, we need both.

If all we experience is nausea, we will become cynics. We will give up on the world and turn away. But if all we have is sweetness, then our faith will amount to little more than sentimental fluff.

Genuine Christian faith, and true ministry, takes place on the thin line between nausea and sweetness. Feel-good Christianity, so common in our popular culture, actually masks the suffering and pain of the world for which Christ died.

a selection from:
Theology for an Age of Terror, by Timothy George
Christianity Today, September 2006

Some days I just want to close the church...

Today was an International Day of Action to stop the genocide taking place in the Darfur region of the Sudan. I struggled immensely as to whether or not I'd be in church or down in San Francisco in the streets as one voice of thousands who want to see this atrocity end. Since February 2003, some 400,000 people have been killed, 2.5 million men, women and children have been forced to flee their homes and in total some 3.5 million people are living on direct international aid. Still, the anguish, the violence, the rape, and the killing continue...

I wish the Christian church was at the forefront of ending this insanity for so many. I wish we were the leading voices in calling for significant intervention in the Darfur region. I wish we were the ones organizing rallies, signing petitions, heck, even praying in a corporate way for these people. I wish it was so important, we'd close the church on a Sunday to publicly rally, pray as a community and desperately raise awareness of the suffering of the powerless in the Sudan. As it is, we didn't mention it in our church today. Honestly, I'm not sure how many Christians I know are even aware this is taking place.

For me, I think about our response to the nearly 5,000 people that died on that horrific day in September 2001 and the absolute outpouring of time, energy and prayer for God's people by God's people that immediately followed. Today, the same (and worse) is happening to some 3.5 million of God's people half way around the world. How can we as Christians be so apethetic and uninformed to the plight of so many? Learn more: SaveDarfur.org.

Love.