Belonging

“That’s plain enough, isn’t it? You’re no longer wandering exiles. This kingdom of faith is now your home country. You’re no longer strangers or outsiders. You belong here, with as much right to the name Christian as anyone. God is building a home. He’s using us all—irrespective of how we got here—in what he is building. He used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now he’s using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home” (Ephesians 2:19-22).

All of us have probably gone through times in our lives where we felt like we didn’t belong anywhere. Many of us have known what it’s like to feel unwanted and unloved (whether real or perceived).

Most of us have done and said stupid stuff- stuff we’d normally never even dream of saying or doing– in order to fit into a group. Nine out of ten times we found out that being in the group wasn’t worth the cost of wrecking our consciences.

Get this. In God’s Kingdom, you belong. I belong. We belong. Not because any of us are so great or special or wonderful, but because God wanted us to be there. Why? I can’t speak for any of you, but I have no idea why God wanted me, other than it gave Him pleasure for some mysterious reasons known only to Him.

That’s my motto for the evening. We belong. Of course, now I have that Pat Benatar song stuck in my head (one of the many perils of being a music nerd).

The best part of belonging in the kingdom of God is that there will never be a time where you and I no longer belong, where we are once again outcasts and misfits.

This belonging is forever.

 

An Advent Prayer I Love

advent-prayer-service-

I found this when I was scrolling through some old notes I had posted on Facebook. And by old, I mean from 2010.

This one caught my attention, not just because it’s from one of my favorite authors of all time, but because it is such a beautiful prayer for this Advent season. I hope it blesses you as it has blessed me every time I’ve read it:

“O Lord, how hard it is to accept your way. You come to me as a small, powerless child born away from home. You live for me as a stranger in your own land. You die for me as a criminal outside the walls of the city, rejected by your own people, misunderstood by your friends, and feeling abandoned by your God.

As I prepare to celebrate your birth, I am trying to feel loved, accepted, and at home in this world, and I am trying to overcome the feelings of alienation and separation which continue to assail me. But I wonder now if my deep sense of homelessness does not bring me closer to you than my occasional feelings of belonging. Where do I truly celebrate your birth: in a cozy home or in an unfamiliar house, among welcoming friends or among unknown strangers, with feelings of well-being or with feelings of loneliness?

I do not have to run away from those experiences that are closest to yours. Just as you do not belong to this world, so I do not belong to this world. Every time I feel this way I have an occasion to be grateful and to embrace you better and taste more fully your joy and peace.

Come, Lord Jesus, and be with me where I feel poorest. I trust that this is the place where you will find your manger and bring your light. Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Amen” (Henri Nouwen)

A Seat at the Table

titanicending

“He went on to tell a story to the guests around the table. Noticing how each had tried to elbow into the place of honor, he said, ‘When someone invites you to dinner, don’t take the place of honor. Somebody more important than you might have been invited by the host. Then he’ll come and call out in front of everybody, ‘You’re in the wrong place. The place of honor belongs to this man.’ Red-faced, you’ll have to make your way to the very last table, the only place left.

“‘When you’re invited to dinner, go and sit at the last place. Then when the host comes he may very well say, ‘Friend, come up to the front.’ That will give the dinner guests something to talk about! What I’m saying is, If you walk around with your nose in the air, you’re going to end up flat on your face. But if you’re content to be simply yourself, you will become more than yourself.”

“Then he turned to the host. ‘The next time you put on a dinner, don’t just invite your friends and family and rich neighbors, the kind of people who will return the favor. Invite some people who never get invited out, the misfits from the wrong side of the tracks. You’ll be—and experience—a blessing. They won’t be able to return the favor, but the favor will be returned—oh, how it will be returned!—at the resurrection of God’s people.'” (Luke 14:7-14).

I’ve observed in a few Nashville churches that the “holier than thou” club has been mostly replace by the “hipper than thou” crew. There are a few telltale signs. 1) Their pastor and/or worship leader(s) wear skinny jeans. 2) The church building doesn’t look anything like a church building. 3) The worship songs are the latest and newest songs that haven’t even hit the radio yet.

To be fair, I’ve had my share of “hipper than thou” moments, as well as “holier than thou.” I’ve caught myself a few times comparing myself with others and detected more than a little pride in my pop culture knowledge and vast and educated musical tastes.

The fact is, anyone could look at me sitting in a seat at Kairos or in a church pew and rightfully ask, “What are you doing here? You don’t belong here.”

It’s true. I’ve done stupid things. I’ve said and typed much that I regret. I’ve had such thoughts that I truly hope I never run into a mind reader who can read my past thoughts. That would be tragic and awkward.

The fact is that in the Kingdom of Heaven, no one belongs and everyone belongs.

No one deserves to be there. I certainly don’t. Everyone has sinned and sin brings death to everyone every single time (to paraphrase my pastor Mike Glenn). The only reason anyone gets in is grace.

Because of grace, everyone can get in. The door is open. The invitations are sent. Everyone is welcome and no one who wants to get in will be left out.

In my opinion, there’s no such things as bad or good Christians. There are only sinners saved by grace. I love Thomas Merton’s definition of a saint– not someone who is good, but someone who has seen the goodness of God.

Don’t think you’re so very wise and holy that you get the best seats in the house. You’ll find yourself getting knocked down a few rungs on that old ladder. Remember Jesus, who didn’t consider anything or anyone beneath Him, but lowered himself to the position of a slave and didn’t think that death on a cross was too scandalous or too much of a sacrifice to get you and me into His kingdom.

If you’ve accepted the invitation, Just be thankful you’re in. And if you’re still undecided, remember there’s always room for one more– you.

Another Perfect Night in Downtown Franklin

There’s a different vibe to downtown Franklin on Thursdays than on a weeknight. It’s more laid back, less crowded, and not nearly as hectic. Best of all, there’s less of a wait in all my favorite places– McCreary’s Irish Pub, The Frothy Monkey, Starbucks, etc.

I ran into some friends tonight– one newer friend who’s in my community group and one friend formerly of the Frankin Theatre who I haven’t seen in quite a while. I even ran into a former work colleague who I hadn’t seen in over a year. It wasn’t like the last time, where everywhere I went I knew at least one person, but it was close.

I made a point to sit on the porch at Frothy Monkey and people-watch. If I were to concoct a perfect spring night, I couldn’t do any better than tonight. Temperature in the low 70’s, breeze blowing, and the sweet scents of spring in the air.

I saw another friend from college who I’ve lost contact with over the years, but she didn’t recognize me. Perhaps, that’s a friendship that was meant for a time, but has served its purpose. Who knows? Only God.

I did a lot of walking and observing. I saw a lot of couples holding hands, a lot of teenagers, a lot of mature folks, and plenty of families. It was a good mix, a good cross-section of life. And for once I didn’t feel like an outsider looking in, but like one of them.

I fit in here. I feel accepted here. People know my face and my name.

Everyone deserves a place to belong, people to belong to, and the feeling of being wanted and loved. In that regard, I am beyond blessed by feeling so loved and accepted and treasured by family and friends.

Most of all, I am increasingly aware daily that I am loved and treasured and accepted by my Abba Father. I pray you know that truth more and more every single day and may it captivate your hearts and minds as it has captivated mine.

 

 

A Place to Belong

“That’s plain enough, isn’t it? You’re no longer wandering exiles. This kingdom of faith is now your home country. You’re no longer strangers or outsiders. You belong here, with as much right to the name Christian as anyone. God is building a home. He’s using us all—irrespective of how we got here—in what he is building. He used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now he’s using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home” (Ephesians 2:19-22).

That’s what everybody is looking for, isn’t it? A place to belong? A place where we feel welcomed? I think so. We all want to be a part of something that is bigger than our individual selves.

No one likes to feel left out or unwanted. No one wants to feel ostracized and rejected.

That’s the beautiful part of the Gospel. God wants you to be a part of what He’s doing in the world. He wants you. Once you say YES to Him, you’re no longer a stranger or an alien or an outcast. You belong. You matter. You are now a child of the King.

That’s what the Church really is. A community of nobodies that God chose and gave a new name and purpose to. Strangers who now belong to God and to each other.

Maybe you know what it’s like to be picked last for a kickball team (or not picked at all). Maybe you know what it feels to be the only one not invited to a party. Maybe you know what it’s like when it seems like everyone is talking to everyone else in a group but you.

You have a purpose. You have a God that picked you because He wanted you and placed you in a family whose bond is stronger than flesh and blood.

You belong.

 

 

My prayer (as prayed by Henri Nouwen)

nouwen

“O Lord Jesus, you who came to show the compassionate love of your Father, make your people know this love with their hearts, minds, and souls. So often we feel lonely, unloved, and lost in this valley of tears. We desire to feel affection, tenderness, care, and compassion, but suffer from inner darkness, emptiness, and numbness. I pray tonight: Come, Lord Jesus, come. Do not just come to our understanding, but enter our hearts– our passions, emotions, and feelings– and reveal your presence to us in our inmost being. As long as you remain absent from that intimate core of our experience, we will keep clinging to people, things, or events to find some warmth, some sense of belonging. Only when you really come, really touch us, set us ablaze with your love, only then will we become free and let go of all false forms of belonging. Without that inner warmth, all our ascetical attempts remain trivial, and we might even get entangled in the complex network of our own good intentions.

O Lord, I pray that your children may come to feel your presence and be immersed in your deep, warm, affective love. And to me, O Lord, your stumbling friend, show your mercy. Amen.”

From A Cry for Mercy: Prayers from the Genesee by Henry Nouwen