Radical Trust

Looking back on some of my previous posts I realize that they are way too "churchy." I see much too much content related to what churches are doing, are not doing, should be doing, etc. There's not nearly enough on just seeking and inviting a relationship with Jesus. I wanted this blog to be an invitation to conversation for both those who are connected with congregations and those who are open to spiritual exploration, but who may not be open to organized religion right now.

So let's talk about trust. Do we really trust anybody or anything, fully? In some ways we've become a cynical culture, or maybe it's just me. We sort of presume the absence of trust. If politicians are moving their lips, they're lying, we think. Lock your doors and protect your on-line identity. Promises aren't good enough; get it in writing and get it notarized. What would it be like to trust someone or something without reservation; something a great Christian thinker and writer named Brennan Manning calls Ruthless Trust.

Remember the scene in the film, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, when Harrison Ford's character steps blinding into the open area over a deep cavern, trusting his father's promise that his feel will land on something solid and he'll make it across? I'm talking about that kind of trust. The story of which Jesus is the center is loaded with that level of trust. Abram and Sarai trusting that they'll have a child after a lifetime of barrenness; Moses trusting that God will part the waters; David trusting that a small rock is sufficient to bring down a giant; Jesus trusting that there's life on the other side of the cross, to name a few examples.

In canoeing we're taught to trust the mainstream of a river. It may take us through rough moments, but it will resolutely move us downstream. What if there was a God who was that radically trustworthy?

Do you trust what's around the next bend in the river? Let's find out.

Hard Days to be a Jesus-Follower

I hear a lot of negative talk among people around the region and around the world who have hitched their wagons in one way or another to Jesus of Nazareth. They talk about how hard it is to be a church, to be a pastor, to be Christian in this complex, "post-modern" world. People lament the diminishing impact of organized religion in contemporary life. Christians on the so-called "right" will cry out about American society's separation from Christian morality, about the absence of God references in public schools, or about the danger of taking "In God We Trust" off of American currency. Believers on the so-called "left" will vent their anger over the failure of churches to address the real needs of people living on the margins worldwide, deciding that the Church has devolved into putting its energy into maintaining its own structures. Thus, they say, it has become irrelevant to the least, the last, and the lost. I hear a lot of hand-wringing about how hard it is to be Jesus-followers these days. I probably participate in that myself.

Now, if we want to talk about hard times in which to follow Jesus, consider this: Not just government apathy, but government hostility; dozens of competing belief systems; a small number of adherents; frequent denigration and humiliation for those who claim Jesus; and limited-to-no financial resources. Now that's a hard time in which to be a Jesus follower. And yet, "Everyone around was in awe - all those wonders and signs done through the apostles! And all the believers lived in wonderful harmony, holding everything in common. They sold whatever they owned and pooled their resources so that each person's need was met. They followed a daily discipline of worship in the Temple followed by meals at home, every meal a celebration, exuberant and joyful, as they praised God. People in general liked what they saw. Every day their number grew as God added those who were being saved." (Acts 2:43-47, THE MESSAGE - emphasis mine.)

Not bad for a pitiful little movement that should have died. It give me hope, anyway. Let's keep paddling; I'll see you around the next bend in the river.