I get it. I mean it’s kinda scary.

“The people are huge, not to mention being bad ass. They have chariots. Big ones. The places where they live are like castles. Walled up, brick, fortified. No way we’re getting in there. Even if we did, we’d get our butts handed to us. God knows what these giants would do if they knew we were coming.”

“I know the land is good, the food is awesome, and it’s beautiful. But lets be real. No way I’m going to be part of this. It’s a complete pipe dream. I say no.”

It’s easy to judge these guys. 10 out of 12 were freaked out. These were not men of lower character. They were sent by their tribes because they were trustworthy, had good standing. They carried sway.

10 out of 12 said no. 12 out of 12 were scared, and realized the danger was great. But majority rules. When the majority speaks, even now, we tend to listen. It makes sense. Where a single person may be wrong, the group tends to be right. Sometimes.

Think about it. The land was theirs. All they had to do was possess it. Go in and take it. From giants. From warriors. Out manned. Out skilled. No problem.

I get this picture of fear. Not from the 12, but from the giants. Looking out over the land, watching them come across the plains. Who are these people? Didn’t you hear? Literally millions of people. The same people that had just crippled Egypt. The same people who had crossed the Red Sea…on dry land. Word, it seems, travels pretty fast.

While I am certain that the folks from Canaan saw the advancement of Israel, and were aware of the hand of power that gave them guidance, I’m not sure the folks here can see us coming, or care.

I struggle with the way I approach kingdom advancement. The folks I go after see things a bit different. Our reputation as a faith is not good. It means there has to be a time of proving. Earning my way in to develop a relationship. Being who I say I am. All the while, if I blow it, it could get nasty for me, and my club. Being held to your own standard.

Who are you? Just another? Just another Christian who is about politics? Just another believer who puts down others? Just another emergent who has disdain for conservatives? Just another church person goin on a mission trip? Just another talking head with no life change? Just another ministry that couldn’t get along with the other? Just another Christian with no power?

“Yea, I heard about them. They’re just another________________________________________ “

I am a product of my environment.

While some may disagree with that statement, it is never truer than now. Having grown up in a typical Southern home, practicing a typical Southern understanding of religion, at 48, a significant rip in the fabric of my thinking has emerged. It changes everything.

There have been a few times that the very presence of God has brought me to my knees in a corporate worship gathering, actually leaving me unable to speak. Moments like these were always the purpose of my worship. To enjoy God for being God, as Piper would say.

Striving to experience such a connection, for the pleasure of the connection, has been difficult at best. I found that these moments came when the awesome majesty and wonder of God was proclaimed in song and Word. His power to save, heal and set free. Moments like these are addicting. Absolute God. Absolute wonder. It left me absolutely breathless.

Most of my striving for these God-man moments was hindered by words that would attract my intellect. After all, to think a certain way, clears the way to act a certain way. But somewhere along the line, all I heard were men trying to help me convince myself that the “supernatural” was not needed anymore. We don’t do that. If it happens, great. But for the most part, believe right, act right, give, tell others to do the same, and things those other folks believe will turn out to be wrong. You’ll see.

God is a God of order. Should he choose to show up in magnificent ways, so be it. He’s got an hour.

It seems like a over simplification I know. And it may be. But the one thing that has been remiss from my journey has been the power. Now listen. I have seen the power of God change lives. Drastically. But with most, after the change, the power that changed them was tamed into something unrecognizable. Not doing something anymore is not residue of power. It is the absence of action.

I’ve often wondered why fringe people are the hardest to reach and keep interested in American faith. I mean we send people to where they live, we go to events, hold rally’s for them, have their kind of music, dress like they do, make them comfortable. Yet, they seem to want to remain on the fringe. Away from the comfort of a good solid, well dressed, well attended church.

Is there now no need for the prophetic word, simply because there are those who claim such and do not deliver? Is there now no need for raising folks from the dead, simply because it has not been done? Is there no need for miracles, simply because we are skeptical?

This weekend, I spent time with folks who had amazing stories. Stories of abuse, addiction, suicide contemplation, prison, death, brokenness, healing and faith, flowed like a river. All these stories ended with the same question….”why would God use me?”

Unable to fit in to the typical gathering places, these folks were forced to conform, or start something that would face the very issue that compelled them to come to Jesus in the first place. Power. If the reality is, in fact, that we tell folks that we need not change anything before we come to Christ, how is it we expect them to change after they know Jesus. Clean up, dress right, believe right, act right.

I talked to a guy Sat that had MS. He was being fitted for a wheelchair. After believing God healed him, his doctors told him he had been misdiagnosed. To tell this man not to believe in faith healing simply because it is misused diminishes the power that healed in him and deters him from praying over others in the same fashion.

People fail to stay in the comfort of religion is not because of music. Has nothing to do with the drive, folks drive for hours to get to church. They don’t stay because of the lack of power that comes from the church. So they often set up camp on the fringe. Doing and saying what changed them to the same types of people they were. It’s in their eyes. God healed me, changed me, forgave me, I want others to know.

The days of the safety of the faith and building will soon be at an end. Mobility will soon become key to faith being spread. America is heading to a place she is unfamiliar with. The roots of Faith are from the underground. Those who live on the fringe are familiar with the residents, and the layout. It is there we must fight to get to. And the ones who know how to do that live there. On the fringe, with the wild ones.

If the future is dealing with navigating through the underground like outlaws, be dang sure better get a foothold in that community. When Christianity becomes outlawed, only Christians will be outlaws.

Thinking a certain way does nothing to persuade people to come to faith in Christ. He does that. But thinking that the Church will be held in the same high esteem it was through the years is over. The days where people care what we say are coming to an end. What they see is queer haters and racism.

No more visits. No more wannabes. We must move out and set up tents.

Most folks eek through life trying to keep a lid on the hidden, broken things, that are mere moments from bursting forth with unbelievable force.  We try to keep a lid on hurt, pain, fear, abandonment, loneliness and  doubt. Trying to keep them just below the surface, so as to seem in control. Although the so called control is apt to be lost at any moment, caused by almost any issue.

People are broken. Some more than others, but broken. Entire TV networks are built on the human condition. Shows like “Hoarders”, “Intervention”, deal with the raw emotion of brokenness, while others show the willingness of family to alienate and turn their backs on each other.

We watch in awe as people try to dance and sing their way into fame and fortune, but not making the connection between the brokenness and entertainment.

I’ve been hiding the broke in my life for quite sometime. It happened a few years ago. Some folks turned on me in typical “church member” fashion (meaning that conversations were held in private about me with out me), all for the good of the church and advancement of the kingdom.

I was sitting in my office once Sunday morning after an awkward conversation I had overheard. My chest began to hurt, face was flush, could barely breathe. My first thought was I was having a heart attack. 2 hours in the ER revealed no heart issues, but was told I was suffering from panic attacks.

Trying to keep a lid on anxiety disorder and depression while taking medication and being a youth pastor is no easy feat. It takes skill. It takes determination. It takes denial.

The biker needs to know Jesus loves him. The hoarder needs to know Jesus loves them. The addict, the adulterer, the homosexual, the racist, the liar, the drunk, the overeater, the self loather, the cutter. The mom, dad, the football player, the cheerleader, the soccer player. The normal, and abnormal.

Kingdom building is not about getting folks to come over to your way of thinking. Kingdom building revolves around the King. The King who delivers, renews, provides, saves, and encourages, and loves. Loves deeply.

The Gospel is not for the self-sufficient; the Gospel is for the helpless, the hopeless, the hurting, the powerless, and the broken.

We serve as warriors in an army that builds a kingdom with slaves and prisoners.  We share love with the broken. We love the unlovable.

Why? What’s the point? For the King. The King who stepped into the human condition. Our condition.

Christmas is a couple days away, so I found it prudent to write a little about what I see and hear around this time of year.

I see lights, decorations, busyness, laughing and tears. Depending on which store I find myself in, the depth of sadness seen on a kids face while being dragged out by his mom, can be quite humorous.

I hear songs of faith, songs of atmosphere, joy, sadness, hope and even songs of heritage. Music moves us, especially the old standards. They remind us when Christmas was more innocent (in our memory) and less hectic and chaotic. The Christmas songs can be heard everywhere. Shopping at the mall, at the coffee shop, even standing at the liquor aisle trying to decide what to take to the party. I think it’s one reason we all get kinda Christmassy. The music is everywhere.

I see people. Lots of people. Poor people, rich people, pretty people and ugly people. I see the when it comes to class, all people want to be loved, thought of, made to feel like they matter. A gift, regardless of how much it may, or may not cost, shows concern and thought. Everyone wants that.

I see the fat guy walking in the parking lot, smoking, wheezing. I see him get out of his car, which also smokes, and walk slowly into the mall, head down, getting the last few puffs of the cig as he walks.. I see this guy, whom i’ve decided to judge, sit patiently while waiting for a electric cart. He needs the cart because he can’t walk very far.

I hear this guy wheeze as he rides through the mall, slowing down as he gets near me, looking in the window. I can smell his cig odor, his b.o. and see his lack of hygiene. I see this guy, whom I’ve decided is wheezing because of his lack of will power to stop smoking, pick up a cheap toy and leave the way he came in. Avoided and head down.

I see the wealthy woman stroll into the mall, arms in motion as she walks, chatting on the phone, smiling, hair perfect, clothes perfect, shoes clicking the floor to announce her arrival. She stops at the jewelry store, picks up a gift and leaves. I see the attention she gets and gives to the workers as they smile and exchange pleasantries.

As I have determined what was ugly between the two, I hear the words “which do you think is ugly to me?”

Is it not so easy to determine by attitude that which is ugly? I had not outwardly treated either differently, but in my heart I decided. Not knowing the soul of these people, I chose. I chose which was more important.

I wonder what Jesus looked like. Never have been able to get passed the mullet wearing blue eyed Jesus western civilization produced. Prince charming Jesus never really connected with me. The Bible says there was nothing about the way he looked that would cause us to look a second time. Big strappin tough guy, who was plain lookin and short. That makes more sense.

What else would we think from a God who had made a nation from slaves? How can we not expect that the God who directed his son to be born in a cave with the smell of cow crap in the air, to choose the pretty over the not so pretty?

I’m ugly. My sin made me that way. He loved me anyway.

I should do the same.

Ugly

No doubt, we live in a very difficult time. The economic difficulties we all face are real. I have been with out a job for 4 months now, being supported by my wife. We have been gypsies for a while. Traveling from plant to plant, living there for 6-18 months at a time. We are weary of that. We want to settle down, put down roots, stop moving, packing and unpacking.

In the mean time, hours are getting cut, and schedules are changing. Again. We feel trapped in a way. Knowing that this is the time given to pursue a dream, work out a ministry, we also have to deal with the non existent job market. Can’t just job hop anymore. We walk on egg shells it seems, hoping that we make the cut for the next job. All the while not wanting to move again.

So. We walk that line between faith and fear.

Most of us look at these situations in theory. As long as the issues are out and away from us, and other folks are facing them, we can say with much confidence that we have faith God will provide. But the truth is, there are many Christ followers who have lost their jobs, their homes, and are facing complete financial collapse. When the situation eases its way into our world, it’s not quite so easy to say God will provide.

Although it should be.

Yesterday we got the news. Immediately I began to try to fight back the anxiety and fear. I dropped to my knees and simply asked God, “What is it that you want from us? We have always gone where you wanted us to go, done what you wanted us to do.” My thinking was, as many of us do, there has to be some one thing that we missed, something we were not doing, or should have done, that God would tell me, we would do it, and His financial graces would begin to flow again, and I would be happy. I racked my brain looking for an unconfessed sin that would bring sense to this.

Nothing. It wasn’t sin.

My stomach was in knots as anxiety began to build. Then I heard the whisper in my heart. “Continue to do what I asked you to do.” Really? “so right now, in this anxiety and fear, you want me to record a teaching?” YES”, I heard.

At that moment, I was given the opportunity to choose. I could choose fear, doubt and anxiety, or, I could choose faith.

I chose faith.

Nothing has changed in our situation. We are still unsure of the future. However, we are certain of one thing. Faith.

Faith.