Rhythm

There is a rhythm to the exercise of our faith. For many of us, this rhythm is centered around weekly attendance at church. Flowing out of this weekly meeting are all sorts of ancillary activities: youth groups, life groups, Bible studies, men's and women's events, informal gatherings. All are designed around the hope of growth in our faith, in our relationship with God.

This rhythm is not a bad thing. It is our culture's response to "church" as spoken of in the New Testament. The writer of Hebrews tells us to "not forsake the gathering together", and our weekly rhythm of coming together is a good response to this prompt.

I am tempted to write here that this rhythm has been disrupted, but rather it has been stripped away through recent events and government mandates. Yes, we are attempting to maintain a semblance of the rhythm with streamed worship services. While I don't think there is anything wrong with this response to the mandate to shelter at home, I do wonder what God is up to.

A good friend, one who serves on the staff of my church, recently voiced this same wondered question. His question was centered around what "church" might look like after this period of forced separation. It is a good question to ponder in light of how technology has replaced physical building and face to face gathering. I too wonder if this disruption might cause larger churches to evaluate the time and resources committed to programmed ministries. It might be a good time to start fresh and see what might grow organically rather than simply picking up where we left off when we are once again allowed to freely gather.

But that is not my main thought. I am sensing something else, a wondered hope for hunger to arise within us. I am certain many are missing the presence of good friends, their faces, hugs and voices that are part of healthy fellowship. I certainly look forward to the day we can freely gather again, formally as well as spontaneously. Perhaps this desire for others is a shadow of a deeper desire. It just might be Abba wants us to lean deeper into this desire, let it grow to a hunger for Him.

Jesus made an incredible statement to His guys that last Passover. He said we are in Him and He is in us. None of these present events surprises God. Maybe some of this "down" time, away from the busy-ness of our culture, could be used to unpack a bit of this mystery Jesus spoke of. What does this really mean for us, this Christ in us, we in Christ? It can start with a bit of sacred hunger.

Jesus also told His guys the Spirit would come after He left. The Spirit was to be our comfort, our counselor and guide into all truth. This Spirit dwells in us. I can't help but think this peculiar territory we all find ourselves in, is very fertile territory, if we but take some time to be with Jesus.

Take a deep breath, open Scripture and let it breath into you. Let it read you! Let hunger for God have its way and lead you, your good heart, into something different, more personal. Perhaps this time can be the establishment of a new rhythm for us all, a rhythm of personal fellowship with the lover of our souls, a rhythm where we can fall more deeply in love with Jesus.

Stumble

We all stumble. When we find ourselves in that territory where we've stumbled I think we put Jesus distant, hazy, on the periphery, maybe even out of focus. He's there, just not closely there. This leads us to believe we need to get up from the stumble and make our way to Him. Two conclusions snake their way into our consciousness, you are on your own and you have to make your way to Jesus in the "there" of the familiar territory of your stumble and make a hasty departure. Your haste to get up and move away hopefully earns some "points" with Jesus. You don't realize it, but you are dancing a little around the idol of self-righteousness.

We place Jesus in the territory because we've been taught He will never leave us, but by placing Him distant, on the periphery, we are only paying a dutiful, religious nod to His presence, the fact He said He'd never leave us. This is really a subtle attack on the truth, Jesus in you, you in Jesus, but our guilt and shame won't allow us to see this.

Stumbling happens so quickly, one minute you are walking well, the next moment you are ungraciously flat in the dust. Maybe it was a word said to you that lit your fuse and anger took over with regretful words spewing out. It could have been a juicy piece of gossip you just couldn't keep to yourself. What about those few minutes on your computer at work to check a news feed that turned into three hours of surfing the web. You're brought up short with the realization you have essentially stolen from your employer. How about that single little glance at something momentarily arousing and off you go into the black hole of pornography.

Whatever it was, with lightening speed you stumble, fall flat in the dust of this familiar territory. You've been there many, many times before. Eyes closed, you feel consumed by guilt and shame. Maybe if you feel the full weight of this harsh, hard shame it will cure you of this easy stumble.

Finally, with the thought, "Here I am again, I've got to get myself back on my feet and out of here", you open your eyes and there is Jesus. No, you are not seeing His feet as He stands over you, He is laying in the dust, face to face looking straight into your eyes, your soul.

Startled, you stir to get up, but Jesus gently lays his hand on you, "Let's stay here awhile". You are stunned. He is right there kindly laying there in your dust, with you, in the territory of your failure. Slowly the guilt and shame begin to leak out of you as you stay still in His steady gaze.

Eventually the two of you rise to your feet and you see both of you are covered in your dust. The guilt and shame assault again and you begin to swat at the dust clinging to you. "No, let me do that", you hear Jesus say and He starts to swat clean the dust clinging to you. Then you notice with every swat at your clothing, the dust clinging to Jesus also falls away.

You take a step to leave the wreckage but He says, "Stay with me here for awhile". Everything in you wants to move away, but you want to stay with Jesus and He's not moving, so you remain. You're uncomfortable with having Him here in this familiar but unfortunate terrain. He appears entirely comfortable to remain. This place has no power over Him.

"Tell me about this place", He says. You take a deep breath and haltingly try to find words. Something in you breaks and you pour your heart out..

"Do you know why you stumble so easily?" You're a little frustrated. "Didn't I just pour out my heart about this place?" you think. After some silence while you try to unravel this horrible knot of sin you finally answer, "No. I hate that I do fall, but I can't stop this. I feel powerless".

"I am the cornerstone of your life. When you take your eyes off me, you stumble over the cornerstone. I don't cause the stumble, it is just the natural outcome of you losing sight of me." You've been listening with downcast eyes. Finally you look up, into His eyes finding nothing but love.

Reading your thoughts He goes on to say, "I know you want to get away from this place as quickly as possible, but I want us to stay here together so we can talk. In time we will move on. Just stay here with me".

So you stay and let Him minister healing, you learn more deeply His voice within.