As I spent time reflecting on last week's emotional roller coaster, I realized something. My readers have become part of my spiritual community. I specifically mentioned my Vineyard family in that chapter, but this experiment has morphed into much more than words on paper. It would be strange if many of you suddenly disappeared. There are too many names to list, but you guys have become another form of spiritual community for me. We've laughed, cried, debated, and bonded. If this was only a book, I would have quit months ago.
This experiment hasn't just been about visiting churches; it's been about the dialogue you guys have created. Perhaps more than the visits themselves, that dialogue has helped me learn and grow. I am so thankful for that.
I definitely experienced an emotional hangover this week. After my “epiphany” that the purpose of church is to experience spiritual community in ways that resemble our biological families, I wasn't excited about showing up at some random church. Next week, things will be back to normal, but this week, I decided to organize my own personal church experience.
Last year, I argued that most church functions could be accomplished outside of church membership. I can read my Bible, serve my neighbor, pray, listen to an inspirational message, and donate to charity without ever stepping foot inside a church building. So, I put that theory to the test. If I were to create a personalized church experience inside the comfort of my own home, here’s what it would look like (I am including details so you can experience the exact process if you would like):
1) Three “worship” songs. I put worship in quotes because I branched out from traditional Christian music. I have been struggling lately with falling back into some old habits (Bea Arthur and I have renewed our love affair since my cable reinstallation), so I chose three of my favorite songs:
“Ain’t No Reason,” by Brett Dennen:
“Hurt,” by Johnny Cash:
“Brand New Day,” by Joshua Radin:
Great, meaningful music speaks to my soul, even if God isn’t mentioned by name. These Johnny Cash lyrics always smack me across the face: I hurt myself today to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real.
But as Joshua Radin sings, today is a brand new day. And when the sun is shining, how can you not feel optimistic about the future?
2) A story from the Bible. After much deliberation, I chose to read the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. You can read the whole thing here. What struck me from the story was this exchange:
When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him” he asked. “Come and see, Lord,” they replied. Jesus wept. Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
There is a ton to unpack in those few verses, but I’ll focus on two points.
One, Jesus wept. Last week, as I screamed at God for letting Charlie die, I got a picture of Jesus sitting with Charlie’s friends and family, weeping with them. In my vision, God’s heart was broken. And my very next thought was, “God, if you are so heartbroken about Charlie dying, why didn’t you heal him?” Almost the same exact question some of the Jews asked two thousand years ago.
That story ends with Jesus healing Lazarus. Not so with Charlie. I don’t have any answers for God’s inaction, but I do know this: God was there with Charlie up until the end. And he has been comforting Charlie’s friends and family ever since. I can’t explain God, but I do know he cares. He is a God that weeps with us.
3) A message. I used to listen to podcasts like it was my job. Literally, three or four per day. Mark Driscoll, Matt Chandler, Erwin McManus, Rob Bell, John Ortberg, and others. I scanned the list to see if any recent messages stood out, and I decided to go with John Ortberg’s message called “Imagine.” Click here to watch his full sermon.
More than ever, I am confronted with life’s frailty. One of my favorite quotes from the movie Insomnia is when Robin Williams says, “Life is so important; how can it be so f@#king fragile?”
Ortberg’s message hit home. In fact, I have to be honest. My selfish nature is warring against the desire to live sacrificially. It sounds too difficult. It sounds too boring. I want to have stuff, and be popular, and pursue the spotlight. I want to live by my own rules. I want to be the god of my own life.
I know this is my key battle.
When faced with personal mortality, people typically move in one of two directions. We either realize time is short, so we need to acquire more—more money, more stuff, more fun, more women/men, more security. Or, we realize time is short, so we choose to give more away. To create a legacy of love and generosity that will live on after we are gone.
I am fighting that battle this week. Acquire more, or give more away?
The right answer is obvious, of course, but living that answer is difficult.
I claim to believe in God. I claim to put my hope in him, but my life doesn’t always reflect that claim. I know very few people who believe in God and place their trust in him. Instead, we trust our human relationships. Can you imagine how your faith would be rocked if your spouse died at age thirty-seven, leaving behind two young children? We trust our stuff. Real estate, retirement funds, material possessions. We trust our political system. People worship Rush Limbaugh the way they should be worshipping God. People are relying on Barack Obama for deliverance the way they should be relying on Jesus.
A question I asked myself a lot this week: Do I really believe? Do I really believe there is some existence after death called Heaven, or is it just a nice bedtime story to keep us sane? Do I really believe in a supernatural God, or did humanity have to create a grandpa in the sky to keep us civilized?
John Ortberg finished his talk with this prayer: “God, help us to die to small and petty dreams.”
4) A closing prayer. I have been yelling at God a lot lately, but I haven’t really taken time out of my life to meaningfully pray. I finished off my Sunday by having a heart-to-heart with God. I was completely honest with my doubts, my fears, and my conflicting desires. I don’t want to pretend with God anymore. He knows my heart. He knows how screwed up I am. He knows my mixed motives. And he chooses to love me anyway.
Amazing grace, indeed.
I still believe you can worship alone in a room. I believe people can read scripture and pray alone. And there are lots of great messages online. But life was never meant to be lived in isolation. That wasn’t God’s original plan.
In the movie, Into the Wild, Christopher journeys into the unknown. He’s fed up with his family, with society, and with life. On his journey, he meets many interesting people and learns a lot about himself. Perhaps this loner’s greatest lesson was his last. Christopher died by himself in the Alaskan wilderness, but before he starved to death, he wrote these words in his notebook: “Happiness only real when shared.”
I think Christopher was on to something.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
This experiment hasn't just been about visiting churches; it's been about the dialogue you guys have created. Perhaps more than the visits themselves, that dialogue has helped me learn and grow. I am so thankful for that.
I definitely experienced an emotional hangover this week. After my “epiphany” that the purpose of church is to experience spiritual community in ways that resemble our biological families, I wasn't excited about showing up at some random church. Next week, things will be back to normal, but this week, I decided to organize my own personal church experience.
Last year, I argued that most church functions could be accomplished outside of church membership. I can read my Bible, serve my neighbor, pray, listen to an inspirational message, and donate to charity without ever stepping foot inside a church building. So, I put that theory to the test. If I were to create a personalized church experience inside the comfort of my own home, here’s what it would look like (I am including details so you can experience the exact process if you would like):
1) Three “worship” songs. I put worship in quotes because I branched out from traditional Christian music. I have been struggling lately with falling back into some old habits (Bea Arthur and I have renewed our love affair since my cable reinstallation), so I chose three of my favorite songs:
“Ain’t No Reason,” by Brett Dennen:
“Hurt,” by Johnny Cash:
“Brand New Day,” by Joshua Radin:
Great, meaningful music speaks to my soul, even if God isn’t mentioned by name. These Johnny Cash lyrics always smack me across the face: I hurt myself today to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real.
But as Joshua Radin sings, today is a brand new day. And when the sun is shining, how can you not feel optimistic about the future?
2) A story from the Bible. After much deliberation, I chose to read the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. You can read the whole thing here. What struck me from the story was this exchange:
When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him” he asked. “Come and see, Lord,” they replied. Jesus wept. Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
There is a ton to unpack in those few verses, but I’ll focus on two points.
One, Jesus wept. Last week, as I screamed at God for letting Charlie die, I got a picture of Jesus sitting with Charlie’s friends and family, weeping with them. In my vision, God’s heart was broken. And my very next thought was, “God, if you are so heartbroken about Charlie dying, why didn’t you heal him?” Almost the same exact question some of the Jews asked two thousand years ago.
That story ends with Jesus healing Lazarus. Not so with Charlie. I don’t have any answers for God’s inaction, but I do know this: God was there with Charlie up until the end. And he has been comforting Charlie’s friends and family ever since. I can’t explain God, but I do know he cares. He is a God that weeps with us.
3) A message. I used to listen to podcasts like it was my job. Literally, three or four per day. Mark Driscoll, Matt Chandler, Erwin McManus, Rob Bell, John Ortberg, and others. I scanned the list to see if any recent messages stood out, and I decided to go with John Ortberg’s message called “Imagine.” Click here to watch his full sermon.
More than ever, I am confronted with life’s frailty. One of my favorite quotes from the movie Insomnia is when Robin Williams says, “Life is so important; how can it be so f@#king fragile?”
Ortberg’s message hit home. In fact, I have to be honest. My selfish nature is warring against the desire to live sacrificially. It sounds too difficult. It sounds too boring. I want to have stuff, and be popular, and pursue the spotlight. I want to live by my own rules. I want to be the god of my own life.
I know this is my key battle.
When faced with personal mortality, people typically move in one of two directions. We either realize time is short, so we need to acquire more—more money, more stuff, more fun, more women/men, more security. Or, we realize time is short, so we choose to give more away. To create a legacy of love and generosity that will live on after we are gone.
I am fighting that battle this week. Acquire more, or give more away?
The right answer is obvious, of course, but living that answer is difficult.
I claim to believe in God. I claim to put my hope in him, but my life doesn’t always reflect that claim. I know very few people who believe in God and place their trust in him. Instead, we trust our human relationships. Can you imagine how your faith would be rocked if your spouse died at age thirty-seven, leaving behind two young children? We trust our stuff. Real estate, retirement funds, material possessions. We trust our political system. People worship Rush Limbaugh the way they should be worshipping God. People are relying on Barack Obama for deliverance the way they should be relying on Jesus.
A question I asked myself a lot this week: Do I really believe? Do I really believe there is some existence after death called Heaven, or is it just a nice bedtime story to keep us sane? Do I really believe in a supernatural God, or did humanity have to create a grandpa in the sky to keep us civilized?
John Ortberg finished his talk with this prayer: “God, help us to die to small and petty dreams.”
4) A closing prayer. I have been yelling at God a lot lately, but I haven’t really taken time out of my life to meaningfully pray. I finished off my Sunday by having a heart-to-heart with God. I was completely honest with my doubts, my fears, and my conflicting desires. I don’t want to pretend with God anymore. He knows my heart. He knows how screwed up I am. He knows my mixed motives. And he chooses to love me anyway.
Amazing grace, indeed.
I still believe you can worship alone in a room. I believe people can read scripture and pray alone. And there are lots of great messages online. But life was never meant to be lived in isolation. That wasn’t God’s original plan.
In the movie, Into the Wild, Christopher journeys into the unknown. He’s fed up with his family, with society, and with life. On his journey, he meets many interesting people and learns a lot about himself. Perhaps this loner’s greatest lesson was his last. Christopher died by himself in the Alaskan wilderness, but before he starved to death, he wrote these words in his notebook: “Happiness only real when shared.”
I think Christopher was on to something.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
