Sometimes, I think God has to break us to bring us so low that the only thing we can see in that valley of despair is Him…on the mountaintop.
Lord, High and Holy, Meek and Lowly,Thou has
brought me to the valley of vision,Where I live in the depths but see thee in
the heights;hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold thy glory.Let me learn by paradoxThat the way down is the
way up, That to be low is to be high, That the broken heart is the healed
heart,That the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit, That the repenting soul
is the victorious soul,That to have nothing is to possess all,That to bear the
cross is to wear the crown,That to give is to receive,That the valley is the
place of vision.Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from
deepest wellls,And the deeper the wells the brighter thy stars shine;
Let me find thy light in my darkness,Thy life
in my death,Thy joy in my sorrow,Thy grace in my sin,Thy riches in my
poverty,Thy glory in my valley.
in my death,Thy joy in my sorrow,Thy grace in my sin,Thy riches in my
poverty,Thy glory in my valley.
-Arthur Bennett from a book of Puritan Prayers
The last two days have been days of despair and brokenness… confusion, frustration, and hopelessness. I have been reminded how broken we are. How broken this world is.
As you may know, Kenya has erupted into tribal violence over the dispute of the recent presidential election results. The country has experienced violence unlike anything it has seen in the last twenty years. 486 dead, and over 200,000 displaced. Everywhere we go there is need, despair, and confusion about the future. Broken.
Somewhere along the way, our little Tripod fell away from that which we set out to do. Like a ship with a small leak, it’s been slow in coming but there is a point when the weight of the water in the hold, unseen and dangerous, is glaringly visible. We have fallen away from each other and the hope to which we have been called. I’m not sure how it happened or what is next, but it’s the reality. Broken.
Something happened tonight that was a beautiful picture to me of healing and Jesus bringing broken people back together because of his love. I’ll briefly talk about the sermon we listened to and then relate the brief story of His love made evident once more.
Tonight after dinner, we listened to another Rob Bell sermon about one of the seven woes found in Matthew 23. I think it was the woe found in verse 15. Throughout the sermon, Rob talks about the metaphors Jesus uses to describe spirituality. Unsurprisingly, those metaphors are quite different from what we would want spirituality to be—something tangible, attainable, and understandable. They are far from what the church portrays. As is typical for Jesus, they are most unexpected…difficult to understand…and radical. The metaphors were knocking (Matthew 7-ask, seek, knock), water (John 4-the woman at the well), wind (John 3-Nicodemus), report (Luke 8- the demon-possessed man), and return home (Luke 15- the prodigal son). Beautiful pictures of a faith that is mysterious, intangible, and filled with hope.
The metaphor about returning home was what hit me tonight. I’ll get to why in a bit. Rob shared two stories about returning home. His premise was that we are shown a piece of home when we come to Jesus, and along the way we leave home and get lost far away. Being born again is a lot like returning home.
The first story was about a young man that approached Rob in the UK. The young man wanted to ask him a question. He shared a story about how he and a few friends had tried to form a community of believers to follow Jesus in a radical way. They moved into communal housing, shared all they owned, tried to live simple, and let the world see what it was like to really follow Jesus. However, over time, things went downhill. The young man says, “The whole beautiful thing we dreamed of is falling apart. It’s crumbling.”
Rob’s response to that story is this: “Go. Get out of here right now. Go buy a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread and pour the wine in a cup. Set the cup and the bread on a table in the middle of your house. Call and emergency meeting with your community and apologize where you have wronged others. Give the bread dipped in wine to those you have wronged and tell them you love them.”
Upon returning to the US, Rob received an email from the young man saying that he had done exactly that and that things had drastically changed for the better. People began apologizing and confessing wrongs toward each other. Rob goes on to talk about how just that simple of act of taking part in the ritual that was originally to remind us of Christ’s work on the cross has a power that is unexplainable. It brings people together as it reminds us of reconciliation and the picture that God sent His Son to die for our sins.
I listened to this story and was almost brought to tears at the similarity to our own group. We set out on our own in Africa to be a community and share what we have with one another as we try to follow Jesus and take his love to the “least of these.” But that beautiful thing we dreamed about has begun to fall apart at the seams. After we finished listening to the sermon, I got up, grabbed the bread, and read the story of the crucifixion out loud from the Message. I was brought to tears as I was reminded of the sacrifice and the pain that He went through for me. We took communion with one another, prayed together, and apologized for wrongs done.
I told the girls that I was sorry because I had lost sight of what we set out to do. I had lost sight of home—connection with Jesus. Taking His love and sharing it together. Following Him. And taking that love to those around us who are without hope, love, and peace. I’m not sure where I went wrong or how it happened, but I was brought to my knees that I’ve become so wrapped up in myself that I haven’t loved Jill and Bethany…And I haven’t love the oppressed, the poverty-stricken, and the destitute.
In the sermon, Rob Bell said something that sums up where I’ve been lately, “Any time we harm ourselves or others out of a desperate desire to heal our own pain, we are far from home.”
So where is home?
The other story was a story about a little girl that I’ll relate verbatim. Rob got the story from Marcus Borg who got the story from Parker Palmer.
The last two days have been days of despair and brokenness… confusion, frustration, and hopelessness. I have been reminded how broken we are. How broken this world is.
As you may know, Kenya has erupted into tribal violence over the dispute of the recent presidential election results. The country has experienced violence unlike anything it has seen in the last twenty years. 486 dead, and over 200,000 displaced. Everywhere we go there is need, despair, and confusion about the future. Broken.
Somewhere along the way, our little Tripod fell away from that which we set out to do. Like a ship with a small leak, it’s been slow in coming but there is a point when the weight of the water in the hold, unseen and dangerous, is glaringly visible. We have fallen away from each other and the hope to which we have been called. I’m not sure how it happened or what is next, but it’s the reality. Broken.
Something happened tonight that was a beautiful picture to me of healing and Jesus bringing broken people back together because of his love. I’ll briefly talk about the sermon we listened to and then relate the brief story of His love made evident once more.
Tonight after dinner, we listened to another Rob Bell sermon about one of the seven woes found in Matthew 23. I think it was the woe found in verse 15. Throughout the sermon, Rob talks about the metaphors Jesus uses to describe spirituality. Unsurprisingly, those metaphors are quite different from what we would want spirituality to be—something tangible, attainable, and understandable. They are far from what the church portrays. As is typical for Jesus, they are most unexpected…difficult to understand…and radical. The metaphors were knocking (Matthew 7-ask, seek, knock), water (John 4-the woman at the well), wind (John 3-Nicodemus), report (Luke 8- the demon-possessed man), and return home (Luke 15- the prodigal son). Beautiful pictures of a faith that is mysterious, intangible, and filled with hope.
The metaphor about returning home was what hit me tonight. I’ll get to why in a bit. Rob shared two stories about returning home. His premise was that we are shown a piece of home when we come to Jesus, and along the way we leave home and get lost far away. Being born again is a lot like returning home.
The first story was about a young man that approached Rob in the UK. The young man wanted to ask him a question. He shared a story about how he and a few friends had tried to form a community of believers to follow Jesus in a radical way. They moved into communal housing, shared all they owned, tried to live simple, and let the world see what it was like to really follow Jesus. However, over time, things went downhill. The young man says, “The whole beautiful thing we dreamed of is falling apart. It’s crumbling.”
Rob’s response to that story is this: “Go. Get out of here right now. Go buy a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread and pour the wine in a cup. Set the cup and the bread on a table in the middle of your house. Call and emergency meeting with your community and apologize where you have wronged others. Give the bread dipped in wine to those you have wronged and tell them you love them.”
Upon returning to the US, Rob received an email from the young man saying that he had done exactly that and that things had drastically changed for the better. People began apologizing and confessing wrongs toward each other. Rob goes on to talk about how just that simple of act of taking part in the ritual that was originally to remind us of Christ’s work on the cross has a power that is unexplainable. It brings people together as it reminds us of reconciliation and the picture that God sent His Son to die for our sins.
I listened to this story and was almost brought to tears at the similarity to our own group. We set out on our own in Africa to be a community and share what we have with one another as we try to follow Jesus and take his love to the “least of these.” But that beautiful thing we dreamed about has begun to fall apart at the seams. After we finished listening to the sermon, I got up, grabbed the bread, and read the story of the crucifixion out loud from the Message. I was brought to tears as I was reminded of the sacrifice and the pain that He went through for me. We took communion with one another, prayed together, and apologized for wrongs done.
I told the girls that I was sorry because I had lost sight of what we set out to do. I had lost sight of home—connection with Jesus. Taking His love and sharing it together. Following Him. And taking that love to those around us who are without hope, love, and peace. I’m not sure where I went wrong or how it happened, but I was brought to my knees that I’ve become so wrapped up in myself that I haven’t loved Jill and Bethany…And I haven’t love the oppressed, the poverty-stricken, and the destitute.
In the sermon, Rob Bell said something that sums up where I’ve been lately, “Any time we harm ourselves or others out of a desperate desire to heal our own pain, we are far from home.”
So where is home?
The other story was a story about a little girl that I’ll relate verbatim. Rob got the story from Marcus Borg who got the story from Parker Palmer.
“Several years ago I was told a story about a three year old girl. She was the
firstborn and the oldest child in her family, but now her mother was pregnant
again and the little girl was excited about having a new brother or sister.
Within a few hours of her parents bringing the new baby boy home from the
hospital, the girl made a request. She wanted to be alone with her new brother
in his room with the door shut. Her insistence about being alone in the room
with the boy made her parents a bit uneasy, but then they remembered that they
had installed a new intercom system in anticipation of the baby’s arrival. So
they realized they could let their daughter do this and if they heard the
slightest indication that anything strange was happening, they could be in the
baby’s room in an instant.
“So they let the little girl go into the
baby’s room, shut the door, and they raced to the intercom listening station.
They heard their daughter’s footsteps moving across the room, imagined her
standing over the crib, and then they heard her saying to her three day old
brother, ‘Tell me about God, I’ve almost forgotten.’”
Wow.
Commenting upon the story, Rob says, “So of all the ways Jesus could talk about faith, he tells a story of a return. A return to your primal roots. A return to your home. A return to a God who loves you. Maybe when people say, ‘Why are you a Christian?’ Well, because when I met Christ, in some deep, mysterious, intangible way it was like I came home.”
I’ve wandered away somehow. I need to say, “Tell me about God, I’ve almost forgotten.” In the next few days, maybe I’ll get back to the bigger picture of trying to bring love to the loveless and hope to the hopeless… To tell others about my home. To look the beggar children in the eyes and communicate love… telling them that I bring food and want to give because of the hope which I’ve been given. I hope to get back to a big picture mindset bigger than Will Watson that is concerned with big issues like displaced people, victims of violence, and those who truly fit into the category of the “least of these.” Those poorer than the poorest of the poor. In God’s time.
But for tonight, I just need to go home. Back to the love shown on that cross. Back to a radical man who walked this earth and brought hope to those dark days. That man that brought so much light. So much love. God, who walked among us and taught us about a masterfully woven plan to save the world. To mend this broken world. A world that is no longer falling apart and crumbling, but a world that is at peace.
“I have run, I have crawled. I have scaled these city walls, only to be with you. But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.” We have to keep searching, asking, seeking, and longing for heaven on earth—community with others and with God.
God, may you tell us what you’re like, because we’ve almost forgotten.
Maybe in order to find out who we are, we need to remember who we were.
-Good ‘ole Jill…well, she’s not really old I guess ;-)
lovewill
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