Enough

This is me.

Born in a small town in Indiana.  Raised in a home with a mom and dad who taught me to love Jesus.  Worked through high school and college.  Fortunate to find a job in my hometown.  Christ continued to pursue me time and again.  Met my wife and bought a home.  Two kids followed.  Surrounded by friends.  I wouldn't call life easy, but it was, I never had to worry about food or shelter.

This is my brother.

Born in Haiti.  Found Jesus because someone cared enough to share.  Roamed streets to look for work to buy food.  Loves his family.  Surrounded by love.  He wouldn't call his life easy, but would never complain and still finds joy.


The difference is in the color of our skin, in where we were born.  I chose neither of those.  God's overwhelming love for those He created, who follow Him, join us in a brotherhood experienced throughout the earth.  God does not see color, He does not see country or state.  He sees His creation, a broken people needing a Savior.  Only people who do not know God would see things differently.  Only those with the darkest of hearts would have contempt for His creation.  And of all people, God's people should be those who defend the defenseless, love those who need love, and stand for those who cannot stand for themselves.  If He gave His life to love them, so should I.

I have been so deeply convicted over the events and comments of last week. I am waiting for God's church to drive out any hint of this wrong in our four walls, to ask for forgiveness because we failed to stand in the past, to not be complicit with our silence.  I am waiting for His church to say, enough.

Renewing my faith in people of faith

"The every day kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the greed in the headlines."  - Charles Kuralt

Professors and pastors alike get time off for self-reflection, personal growth and refreshment.  I feel a bit cheated in this because if I could get a sabbatical, this is what it would look like:  me, going Charles Kuralt, and driving the countryside visiting church and parish, large and small, urban and rural to interview people about their faith walks.  Because, I've realized, somewhere along the way I've lost my faith in people of faith.

Now, before you fire back that we are not to look to people to sustain our faith, stop and ask yourself where exactly it says that we are to be islands in the development of our faith.  Of course we're not, that's why we plant ourselves in pews each Sunday.

I will admit to being saddened, maybe sickened, certainly dismayed by what has become the mainstream face of people of faith-the "headline" demonstration of our faith.  The movement toward civil religion will ultimately make the gospel of no effect in America.  Unless we come back to the heart of God and demonstrate the love of His Son, we will surely lose a generation.  Already our evangelical leaders' voices sufficiently clang with hypocrisy as they vie for political favor.

I believe, somewhere out there on the back roads, in the food pantries, coffee shops, orphanages, alleys, and migrant camps are those who understand the "call" that prods them out of the pews and away from the "show" on Sundays to live out the gospel in a way that it was intended.  I believe these people exist.  And I'd love to get to know them.  I need to have my faith renewed in people of faith.

These are the questions I'd ask:  What are the times you feel closest to God?  Is there a passion you feel for His creation?  How do you feel part of the brotherhood of man?  What do you sense in your quietest times?

I've really only ever known two churches my entire life.  I was about 4 when our country church of a couple hundred went through a split separating families and friends.  I don't remember much, other than the hurt it caused.  But the church I grew up in, well beyond my college years, was closer to a couple thousand.  It operated big, and there were big ideas, and we worshiped a big God.  But in the end, after I had left, it collapsed-in a big way.  I wouldn't give up the 25 years that I was there-it was solid teaching, but it also taught me what a church is not.

After my wife and I were married, and we settled into our hometown, we also settled into a new home church.  It became very personal, intimate, and as our family grew, so did our church family.  They become those we could count on, laugh and grow with.  Fellowship.  Our kids were dedicated, baptized, and mentored by friends until they, themselves, became mentors.  And now, 20 years later, I look back and understand these roles as part of a church family.  But, once again, I'm beginning to understand what that means, and doesn't mean, and how God can use adversity in those roles to make us seek Him in others.

People, particularly leaders, can and will fail us.  I'm not immune to that myself.  However, in those failures, are we learning and growing together?  Are we seeking unity through the hard work of reconciliation?  Are we becoming a stumbling block to the spiritual growth of others?  Are we being encouraged by the true demonstration of faith, of Christ, or are we just protecting the show?

I'd love to be on the road for a year to visit a mission in LA, a reservation in South Dakota, a church on the plains of Texas, a mighty cathedral in Boston, and a home church in Indiana.  I'd love to site down with my Catholic and Episcopal brothers, fellowship with Methodists and Baptists, worship with my Latino and AME family, have a conversation with Muslims and Jews.  God isn't in four walls, and his family is much bigger than the few hundred white people we sit with on Sundays.  If engaging others can restore what has been compromised and carved away for years, then we need to stop, ask, listen and learn.

When was the last time you stopped long enough to have your faith encouraged by someone you don't even know?