The View

This past week our family traveled the 1,468 miles to Great Falls, Montana in 22 hours. We traveled through a lot of country that I was very familiar with. I have spent the majority of my life in Kansas. It is where I met my wife and learned to drive. It is a place that fits like those worn jeans.

The sun began to dip as we traveled I-70 across the northern half of Kansas. As I looked out for miles in every direction I couldn't help but think of the beauty of it all. I find something beautiful about the wheat fields and rolling hills that make up the landscape in this corner of creation. The more I can see, the happier I am. To me it is a beautiful view.

Now my wife grew up in the mountains of Colorado. She loves the cozy space that is central Colorado. There is no better view than one nestled at the base of the Rockies. She enjoys snowmobiles and pine trees. Two items you won't often find on the prairies of Kansas. She thinks the flat, treeless land is ugly. I tried to explain the beauty of it all, but she just isn't buying it.

When I go to the mountains I have one goal in mind, to get to the top so I can look back out and see open country. I want the view that goes on for miles. If you get me in mountains for to long I start to get claustrophobic. It makes me feel uncomfortable, like I need to come up for air. My wife on the other hand finds it cozy and relaxing. To her there is no better view.

I'm going to guess that everyone to a degree is the same. We have a place that feels right. That is more comfortable. Where we know what to expect. A place that gives us the feeling of safety. For me that place is Kansas. It is in the view.

The View from the Pew

I think it would help us if we realized that spiritually we are the same. Just as the view in Kansas gives me comfort, the worship experience does the same. People go to war over worship. They battle for what is comfortable. I have no problem understanding this desire. We have something built in that looks for rest. My problem is when we begin to say that one is better than the other, more scriptural or more spiritual. When one is presented as being better at saving lost souls. That bothers me.

When someone starts to say their way is better, more holy and more pleasing to God I have to beg to differ. It has nothing to do with God and everything to do with you. It would be like me telling my wife that the view in Kansas is more pleasing to God. Can you hear the arrogance in the statement? Can you hear the subjective nature if the words?

Why can't we just appreciate that we are different? That our life experiences take each of us in different directions?

This past week I went to a place called The Bridge. It caught my wife's attention because it said it was a clean and sober place to hang out. We stopped in. We met the owner and took some time getting to know her. She told us her life experience and then shared the goals of The Bridge. She did a nice job making us feel welcome but everyone else in the building just stared at us like we had broccoli in our teeth or an extra head.

She mentioned that she didn't feel welcome at many of the churches in the area. What struck me is that I understood how she felt. I didn't look the part of the recovering drug addict. She complained of the coldness she felt and after we left I realized I had felt the same coolness inside.

We all have personal biases. We all have places that we feel comfortable at and places we don't. We have people we like to hang around and others that we just don't click with.

I really think that is okay. I really think it is how God intended it. The world is full of different views. Different places of comfort and rest. One person sanctuary is anothers prison. Why can't we understand this as we move through life? Why must we judge another's view less spiritual, less pleasing to God, just because it doesn't work for us?

Paul dealt with this as he wrote to the church in Rome. He said to respect the others' view. Romans 14:10 says, “You, then, why do you judge your brother? Or why do you look down on your brother? For we will all stand before God's judgment seat.” Paul tells them that God is the judge. Right before this Paul says that we will stand because the Lord is able to make us stand.

When we begin to judge style we make ourselves God. Paul understood this and he warned the church in Rome about this very behavior. What hits me is that the Jews continued to worship on Saturday. The Gentiles worshiped on Sunday. They met together to share the agape meal and Lord's Supper. The Jews avoided meat sacrificed to idols while the Gentiles didn't. Paul tells the church to abstain from eating meat during those meals.

What Paul doesn't do is tell the Gentiles to give in to the Jewish view. He never says to stop worshiping on Sunday or stop eating meat when Jewish believers are not around. He simply says that when you get together put it on the back burner. Show the love of Christ to each other.

Paul seems to understand the different views that each brings to this life. If only we could do the same today. If only we could accept that some love a more subdued worship. If only we could understand that some prefer more expression. If we could only see that when we judge either to be lacking we have made ourselves God.

I will respect my wife's idea of beauty while retaining mine. Paul tells us that this is the very reason Christ died. So that he could be Lord of all, no matter what their view.

We will begin a cross country trip this Sunday afternoon. We are driving to Great Falls, Montana where my wife’s parents live. We will be out for two weeks.

A Trip to Wild Horse

Last year I took a day and drove up to Wild Horse, Canada in the providence of Alberta. It was what I would call a sojourn. A trip to a quiet place for solace. I was excited to see Wild Horse. The name sounded exciting. I could almost visualize the cool hats that a place like Wild Horse would have.

I drove up the back roads from Great Falls, Montana. I meandered up Highway 87 with this deep belief that I needed to hear something that day. I really felt like God was going to show me something, something important.

I stopped in Big Sandy, Montana. 683 hardy souls at the foot of Bear Paw Mountain (or was it a mound?). I had lunch at Q’s Cafe. I don’t think it was named after Q from the James Bond movies. I entertained the idea, then dismissed it. At least I did when I saw no gadgets decorating the interior of the restaurant. Only pictures of Big Sandy’s sports teams and an upcoming rodeo adorned the walls.

I sat down and ordered my traditional small town café meal, a bacon cheeseburger. I had my Bible so I began to read through the pages. I sat there for a time until I was approached by a tall man in a cowboy hat. He asked what I was reading and invited me to join him and his daughter for lunch. He was a talker and I was willing to listen. It was a pleasant lunch. Hearing about this man and his ministry. He shared how he came to Christ and his experiences since.

I had decided to travel through Big Sandy because my mentor in ministry had spent several years as the Church of God pastor there. We talked about my Pastor friend, his church and all that was happening in Big Sandy.

That is one thing that strikes me today about the Kingdom. I am in some nowhere town on some obscure stretch of highway, and yet the book I read is easily identified. It connects me to a man I have never met to a story I at times struggle to believe. It is in those moments that I see the power of Christ. It is in these moments you see the transforming work of Jesus. It is easy to forget just how powerful the message is.

He ended up buying my lunch, I thanked him and went on my way. I still had Wild Horse as my goal. I thought about calling it quits, maybe some of the things this man shared were all I needed to hear. I decided that I started out for Canada and I should see it through.

I had envisioned Wild Horse as a place with a Saloon, maybe a biker bar. It just sounded like that type of place. A place with a lot of character, and I love character.

I traveled on these back roads of Montana, drawing closer with every mile marker to my destination, Canada. I will never forget what I found when I did hit Wild Horse in the province of Alberta. I drove up to the border crossing and stopped for inspection. I asked the border officer for directions to Wild Horse. She laughed. This was Wild Horse she informed me.

It was a building. Well, it was one building with an out building on the Canadian side and two buildings on the U.S. side. I discovered that Wild Horse was not so much a town, more like the name of a border crossing. Now those of you who already knew this and think I am silly, OK. I grew up in Kansas a long way from any border so I never even stopped to think that the circle on the map was anything more than what a circle on a map in Kansas was, a town.

I told her I had driven from Great Falls, Montana to see the sites in Canada. She informed me that the sites wouldn’t start for another hour. She let me know that I wouldn’t see people until Medicine Hat, another great name by the way.

I was disappointed, she took pity on me. Since Wild Horse had no saloon or hats or collector shirts, she gave me a Canadian Customs stuffed bear.

Not There Yet

This is what I learned that day. I wasn't there yet. I remember when I gave my life to Christ at twenty-two. I remember dreaming of a day when I would arrive in my Christian walk. The day when I would be that mature believer I saw in others. I remember how disappointed I was when I didn’t quite measure up to who I believed I should be. I never seem to be as far along in the journey as I think I am.

What if that is the whole point? What if that has always been the point? What if Peter wasn’t really failing when he began to sink like a led balloon out at sea? What if He wasn’t failing when he denied Christ? What if he was just growing? What if he was just learning what it is all about? What if it was just the next step in Peter’s journey of faith?

What if Peter thought he had arrived? Let’s face it, he talks a lot like someone who thinks they have arrived. Look at his actions that last week of Jesus life. When Jesus wants to wash Peter’s feet Peter says, “You shall never wash my feet” (Jn 13:8). When Jesus says He must, Peter changes his tune. Now instead of no washing it is a full body cleansing (Jn. 13:9).

Peter seems at first to be attempting to show he understands. I will wash your feet, I will serve. Then he turns the other direction and seems to want to show that he is totally committed. Then Jesus informs him that he will deny he even knows Him. Peter has arrived again when he says there is no way.

After Peter’s third denial, the cock crows and Peter remembers what Jesus said. Looks like Peter’s Wild Horse moment. He thought he had arrived but he still had further to go. In the last chapter of the book of John Peter is restored. Jesus doesn’t hold his failures against him. Jesus doesn’t give up on Peter, he actually sends him further on and deeper in. Jesus tells him more will be expected, not less. Why? Peter was on a journey that will not be finished until the end.

I can not count the number of times that I have thought that I arrived. I have been to my spiritual Wild Horse more times than I would care to admit. The beauty is that Jesus is always there to push me further on and deeper in. I found myself frustrated and disappointed that day receiving my stuffed bear, but God used it to teach me truth.

Don’t be fooled into thinking that Peter arrived on Pentecost day. He still had a roof top experience and a firm rebuke from Paul to come. All because he, like you and I, are still moving, still growing, still looking for the next destination on this journey. How intriguing to realize you are never arriving, always on your way.

This year my goal is Medicine Hat, I will let you know what unfolds.

Scent

The other day I was in an old bank. It was funny because it had that old bank smell I remember from my youth. You see my father is in banking and I spent time in a lot of different banks growing up. I don’t know what it is, but older banks have a certain smell. I can’t really describe it and I don’t know what causes it, but this small town bank in Oklahoma had the same smell as the banks of my youth scattered across Kansas.

On occasion I end up in the town I grew up in. I stop by the library because my childhood friend’s mother is the librarian. It too has a certain smell. When I enter I travel back to my youth and I am 10 years old with a deep crush on Michelle Mitchell. It has changed a lot since my youth, and yet it still smells the same.

Scent has such a powerful ability to connect us to places, times and people. I was holding our youngest daughter last night and I realized I was smelling her. I was holding her as we prayed before sleep and I was enjoying her aroma. Surely I’m not the only father who does this? I find comfort and peace in the experience. It brings a smile to my face and a feeling that I am home.

This brought me to thoughts about God, and I realize that he loves my scent. He loves it for the same reason that I love my own children’s, because I am His child. What a comforting thought it has brought me today. When I pray God smells me, and He likes my aroma. He drinks me in His nostrils. He finds pleasure and comfort in my scent. Just as my children know they are safe when I leave their room, dad is here and all is well, I too feel safe.

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." Zephaniah 3:17

The Church and Scent

The more I think about this the more I think churches have their own aroma. Now many of the small town church buildings of my youth smelled like mildew. Those basements just had that scent. I remember just feeling wet when I went with my grandparent’s. I just wanted to get in and out as soon as possible with a limited number of breaths.

I met a man this past week who has a Christian ministry in the area. It is run by former drug addicts and convicts. It is a wonderful ministry doing many great things in the name of Jesus Christ. As we talked he mentioned that these born again believers won’t go to a certain churches because they feel dirty and unwanted when attending. They feel like they shouldn’t be there.

I started to think about our fellowship and I started to wonder about our scent. It seems that this group puts out its own smell. No one said these men and women were unwelcome and yet they got that message all the same.

What does your church body smell like? If we give out a scent as a church, what would it be? How would you describe your aroma?

It would seem that Jesus had a distinct aroma, one that drew people in, and yet is our goal as churches to smell like Jesus? I wonder if the church today couldn’t use some aroma training. I wonder if we know Jesus scent.

“For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing.” 2 Corinthians 2:15

Are we consumed with the idea of smelling like Jesus? This is something I will have to ponder.

I have started reading several books that friends have recommended. One is Blue Like Jazz. It is interesting to find him mention the Wizard of Oz. Nothing new under the sun in ideas. I suppose if I would read more I would feel compelled to write less.

I am also reading The Secret Message of Jesus by Brian McLaren. Not sure what to think yet. It is my first McLaren book.

Dreaming of a better tomorrow?

Remember those 50’s era films about the kitchen of tomorrow? One of them actually had a housewife feeding a recipe card into a slot which triggered the cooking of a birthday cake frosted and ready to go, candles and all. There were many other whiz bang devices that should easily be available by the year 2000. What a wonderful future we had in store. Needless to say, these items have not materialized. I don’t have an electronic butler and my refrigerator, unless you count getting crushed ice or cubed, is not that impressive of a place. It still manages to culture some scientific experiments but I hardly believe that is what they had in mind.

It is easy to make predictions isn’t it? Remember when the internet was going to replace every pet store and bicycle shop known to man? I still remember laughing at the thought of getting a twenty pound bag of Kibbles n' Bits in the mail and thinking, only the post office is going to make money off of this deal

Predictions are a dime a dozen. They are easy to make and nearly impossible to be held responsible for. Think of all the sports guys making a fortune making predictions. Any of them lose their jobs because they weren’t right?

The church is full of predictors today. Any number of people seem to have a pulse on things to come. What happens when they are wrong? I can laugh about twenty pound kibble, but what do I do when it is people’s souls?

Recently I have had to come to grip with my predictions. My rosy outlook. My vision of things to come. What happens when what you thought was going to happen doesn’t happen? Do you fold up tent and move on? Do you say, this must not be the place for me? What happens when what the church says it wants and what it is willing to do are two different things?

Those kitchens of the future were cute and funny and full of stainless steal, but no one ever said a family of four was going to actually use that kitchen in the 50’s. What ministry do I miss while I long for my stainless steal, card eating, cake producing church experience? How many real people do I drive by, all the while, pining for the day when I can be at the church of the future?

This has been bouncing around my head so loudly this month that I have to listen. I know it is not as glamorous as seeking to create the next great thing, and yet I have to wonder if it isn’t more practical and more Kingdom producing.

I can’t help but think of those other children of Israel as they traveled the wilderness some thousand years ago. I can’t help but hear them complaining in Exodus 11:4-6, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m not the same.

"The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, "If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!"

I don’t even know what a leek is but they make it sound awfully good. That is quite the set up they are talking about there. Fish, cucumbers, melons? Throw in some top sirloin and I can’t see where you could go wrong. It seems all of those years of abuse and hardship vanish away and all they can see is some twenty-four hour all you can eat buffet, leave the plates at the table.

I know they were looking back, not looking forward, and yet I hear something in their longing that reminds me of my own. It sounds too close to my thoughts for comfort, especially when I see how disrespectful they were towards God.

I sometimes wonder if the priest and Levite were thinking of their church of the future as they walked by the wounded traveler in the parable of the Good Samaritan.

This past week I spent a couple of days at a church camp with my family. I ended up in a cabin with three young men. I only had responsibility for the kids that I brought and since I brought only my family it was pretty easy. For whatever reason these three young men choose me to be their sponsor even though they already had one.

They asked me everything and followed me everywhere. They invited me to sit with them at every opportunity. It was in this moment that I realized that I have a responsibility for today. I have a responsibility for those God brings my way today, not tomorrow. Not if I get the kind of church I want to minister at. Not if I get the kind of people who want to follow me. I have a responsibility today to do what I can in the situation I am in.

In the future things may change. I may be in that place that is really cool and just like I had envisioned. But that day is not today. I will stop trying to live in the church of tomorrow because, if truth be told, they never work out like you think they will.

I got home from camp and stopped by a family’s house whose father never comes to church. I called a member whose son has been having trouble with the law to see if we could go fishing. I began to minister with my today church. If my church of tomorrow is all that I believe it will be then that is great, but why ruin today dreaming of a church, that if God wills it, will always be there tomorrow?