Last year about this time, around my eldest's birthday, I spent a few hours writing a lament looking back over the first five years of living in South Florida and our experiences both personal and communal. Last August was not a happy time for me (although I was winning money on a regular basis in the golf league I play in.) Now Jackson is six, and it is time for some introspection again. This has been the least blogged year since I started writing in 2002, however, that doesn't mean it has been uneventful.
There have been a few reasons for my relative silence. First of all, I've been working on a book since January called (what else) "What is Church?" It's a book that tells both our story and the story of the relationships we've formed locally and beyond through the internet, among others who are seeking God's kingdom in simple ways in small communities like ours. I'm about 3/4 done with a first draft, and it has been slow going. My opportunities to write are few and far between and usually consist of a hour or two on a Sunday morning a few times a month. I wanted to be finished about three months ago, so obviously I'm a little frustrated with the progress. But alas, life has not given me oodles of time to leisurely write.
The second reason I have not blogged as much is more personal and local. Over the past year, our community has considerably grown both numerically and in depth of relationship. It has been incredibly satisfying to watch the process, especially after wondering out loud last year if we'd really made all that much progress in five years. But many of the questions we've posed and dreams we've dreamed are starting to take shape before our eyes. There is a community of Jesus-disciples here, working out their salvation with fear and trembling. They don't look at me as the fount of all wisdom or vision or comfort (thank the Lord, for their sake). I pastor when I need to, and receive pastoring when I need it. Mostly, we try to enjoy ourselves as much as possible and model a lifestyle where consumption and the drive for success die from neglect. We are by no means a perfect community - we embody Bonhoeffer's warning that disillusionment with the ideal of community is an avenue to the real thing. Conflict is necessary. Disagreements are normal. Pain is inevitable. But so is the simple joy, as I experienced last night, to coming home from a long day at work to a house full of friends - kids running around, fellas on the couch with a beverage in hand, ladies chatting and enjoying long conversations, Bono in the background serenading us as we practice good trinitarian theology.
The experience of the last year has been healing for me on many levels. It has allowed me to begin to understand more of my calling, and the freedom to grow in that calling without the pressure of high expectations. I have seen others experience healing, although it seems most of us have also experienced deep disappointments, attacks, failures, and personal suffering that have challenged our faith to the core. Amber and I are in the midst of a significant financial crisis, mostly brought on by the all too familiar real estate slump. Frankly, it sucks big time, and I feel as if I have personally made some mistakes that we will be recovering from for a long time. That is partially why I wrote this post tonight - I need to remind myself what is really going on, the long view of why God called us to this money-sucking corner of the world.
This morning I spoke with my friend Arty, who is the pastor of the Vineyard church in Gainesville. Arty and I have a long history together, but in a lot of ways we both have very little idea of what each other have been through the past few years. Their church is in the middle of a massive transition of which Arty has been at the center. He is an entirely different leader philosophically than when we left the church in 2001, and it is all good. Of course, the transition has been painful and done quite a fair bit of shaking both in him and everyone else involved. But I heard a wonderful voice in him today, as he described meeting with another pastor and a group of leaders from another church on the cusp of transition, and helping them begin to ask the hard and necessary questions. He is discovering the out-of-bounds kingdom, the one that doesn't have a label attached to it or the earmarks of what everyone might think a "successful" event might look like. That's a beautiful thing.
There are a few people in my past that I would love to go to now and tell them, "You didn't believe me, or believe in me, but look what is happening now!" I would point to people like Arty, and say, "See what is happening to these people, these pastors that you thought would just simply toe the corporate line the rest of their lives. They are being wonderfully ruined, and the Holy Spirit will allow them to have influence in places you would never dream of going." Then I would take them to one of our gatherings or meals together. I would say, "See these people? You thought they were just bitter, too critical, didn't want to 'serve' anymore, or just wanted to hang around other people like them and form a holy huddle. You have no clue the kind of hell these people have been through and what their real dreams are. Their dreams are priceless - the stuff of God's kingdom. But you didn't want to hear about their dreams, you wanted to hear
my vision,
my plan and why
my church wasn't growing. If you only knew how many people like this are out there, and what life could be like if you got off your vision high horse for a second to notice. They are beautiful, and I love them. And no, I'm not coming back."
