It was Halloween night when we found out that Lindsey was pregnant. My initial feeling was a mix of shock and panic, followed almost immediately by excitement at the prospect of being a father. Ever since I knew Lindsey, I was positive that she was going to make an amazing mother. We would walk through restaurants and children would jump out of their chairs and follow her with arms outstretched (This actually happens). So there we were just a couple months ago; a mess of emotions and adjusting to the idea that we would be parents.
Wednesday night, Lindsey started bleeding and cramping. She called me Thursday and told me to pick her up from work because she was scared she was miscarrying. The bleeding persisted through Saturday night, when we decided to take Lindsey to the emergency room. We left with more questions than answers when the only advice they could give us was to see her doctor ASAP. This morning, Lindsey's doctor confirmed our fears. There was no heartbeat on the ultrasound and the baby had not grown much since the last visit.
I could never worship a God who made things like this happen just to teach us a valuable lesson. I can, however, worship a God who joins us in our pain and makes us better people in the process of going through trials. Lindsey and I take great comfort in knowing that we are not alone, and understanding that something good will come from something bad.
Grace and peace to all of our friends. Your prayers are very much appreciated.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Disclaimer: This random stream of consciousness is the product of too much coffee consumed during a late night. Enjoy……
Lately, I have come to the realization that life is in a constant state of flux. At least my life seems to have been that way as far back as I can remember. I used to resist it. I used to deny it. I now feel less inclined to choose either of those options and simply accept and embrace the reality that life is full of chaos. Chaos is not necessarily a bad thing. It just simply means that events in life are not as predictable as I had previously believed.
Update: I realize that it seems like an eternity since I have last graced the blogosphere with my presence, but this is for good reason. In August, I left the church of my youth and began a new journey with a church that better embodies what Lindsey and I feel called to do as part of the Body of Christ. This means that I am no longer occupationally a minister to youth. I am now a manager at a fledgling pizza restaurant in the heart of downtown Tulsa’s party district. This is a way of paying the bills, meeting interesting people I wouldn’t otherwise come into contact with, and shattering people’s misconceptions of what it means to follow Jesus in our current context. Lindsey and I have also purchased and moved into a new house on the north side of town (the “black” part of town), with the desire to be a blessing to our neighbors and a small embodiment of racial reconciliation.
Picking up where I left off: If you had told me one year ago that Lindsey and I would be where we are, attempting to do what we are doing, I would have thought that you were out of your mind. Now, it feels quite natural to think that where we currently are is the next step in the journey.
Embracing disorder and uncertainty as the metaphor in which we live means that we must dive deeper into the faith of our forefathers, who accepted martyrdom as a possibility at any moment. Embracing chaos means that we accept the reality that life is full of surprises. It means we take each twist and turn in life with a healthy level of responsibility, understanding that we choose how we respond to each circumstance in which we find ourselves. It also means that we must find some type of stability in a community of likeminded people who are also attempting to live in this state of chaos and flux, understanding our calling as priests of God and our duty to distribute grace to one another.
So what now? Now it’s time to go to bed so I can be rested for whatever tomorrow or even tonight may hold. Now is also time to turn out the light and get my beautiful wife some water. Did I mention that she’s pregnant? Time for more chaos.
Lately, I have come to the realization that life is in a constant state of flux. At least my life seems to have been that way as far back as I can remember. I used to resist it. I used to deny it. I now feel less inclined to choose either of those options and simply accept and embrace the reality that life is full of chaos. Chaos is not necessarily a bad thing. It just simply means that events in life are not as predictable as I had previously believed.
Update: I realize that it seems like an eternity since I have last graced the blogosphere with my presence, but this is for good reason. In August, I left the church of my youth and began a new journey with a church that better embodies what Lindsey and I feel called to do as part of the Body of Christ. This means that I am no longer occupationally a minister to youth. I am now a manager at a fledgling pizza restaurant in the heart of downtown Tulsa’s party district. This is a way of paying the bills, meeting interesting people I wouldn’t otherwise come into contact with, and shattering people’s misconceptions of what it means to follow Jesus in our current context. Lindsey and I have also purchased and moved into a new house on the north side of town (the “black” part of town), with the desire to be a blessing to our neighbors and a small embodiment of racial reconciliation.
Picking up where I left off: If you had told me one year ago that Lindsey and I would be where we are, attempting to do what we are doing, I would have thought that you were out of your mind. Now, it feels quite natural to think that where we currently are is the next step in the journey.
Embracing disorder and uncertainty as the metaphor in which we live means that we must dive deeper into the faith of our forefathers, who accepted martyrdom as a possibility at any moment. Embracing chaos means that we accept the reality that life is full of surprises. It means we take each twist and turn in life with a healthy level of responsibility, understanding that we choose how we respond to each circumstance in which we find ourselves. It also means that we must find some type of stability in a community of likeminded people who are also attempting to live in this state of chaos and flux, understanding our calling as priests of God and our duty to distribute grace to one another.
So what now? Now it’s time to go to bed so I can be rested for whatever tomorrow or even tonight may hold. Now is also time to turn out the light and get my beautiful wife some water. Did I mention that she’s pregnant? Time for more chaos.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
My Resignation Letter
To the Body of Christ at Southpark Community Church,
When I was a newborn, my parents held me close in their arms and carried me through the doors of this church. They found this to be a place of love and acceptance. The years found my family bouncing around from church to church, only for me to return to Southpark in high school. It was at this church that I graduated. It was this church that paid scholarships for my college experience. It was this church that mentored me and it was at this church that I married my beautiful wife, Lindsey. It was in February of 2007 that we embarked on a journey together with me as the youth minister of this church. When interviewing, we told the board and the search committee that we had dreams of eventually starting a new church. We let them know that depending upon the Lord’s will and timing, we might look for such an opportunity within two years of taking the job at Southpark. Recently, I had a friend approach Lindsey and I. He that mentioned he was beginning a new church in the Tulsa area and said that he believed we would make a good fit. After much talk and prayer, we have decided that it is time to seize this opportunity. As of July 31st, I will no longer be on staff at Southpark Community Church. I want to thank you for giving a young couple such as Lindsey and I the chance to impact this current generation for Christ and His Kingdom. Thank you for your prayers and support.
In His Service and Yours,
Ryan Boyls
When I was a newborn, my parents held me close in their arms and carried me through the doors of this church. They found this to be a place of love and acceptance. The years found my family bouncing around from church to church, only for me to return to Southpark in high school. It was at this church that I graduated. It was this church that paid scholarships for my college experience. It was this church that mentored me and it was at this church that I married my beautiful wife, Lindsey. It was in February of 2007 that we embarked on a journey together with me as the youth minister of this church. When interviewing, we told the board and the search committee that we had dreams of eventually starting a new church. We let them know that depending upon the Lord’s will and timing, we might look for such an opportunity within two years of taking the job at Southpark. Recently, I had a friend approach Lindsey and I. He that mentioned he was beginning a new church in the Tulsa area and said that he believed we would make a good fit. After much talk and prayer, we have decided that it is time to seize this opportunity. As of July 31st, I will no longer be on staff at Southpark Community Church. I want to thank you for giving a young couple such as Lindsey and I the chance to impact this current generation for Christ and His Kingdom. Thank you for your prayers and support.
In His Service and Yours,
Ryan Boyls
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
My Personal Narrative
The Footnote:
I've been dying to give the next part of my personal narrative, but a lightning storm fried our modem at home, and my work schedule has not allowed for enough time to give to such personal exercises as blogging. Thank God for things like birthdays. I turn 26 today, which means that even though it's a work day, I can still choose the option of saying, "I think I'll work out of the office today." Anyway. Someone commented on my last entry and asked me the question, "What happened to your old church? If God was visiting in such powerful ways, what happened to make the enterprize go belly-up (These are not his exact words of course)?"
Here's what I remember (Remember, these memories are years old and may or may not be 100% accurate. I was 14 at the time.):
The church at the time was going through an interesting period. Miracles like the ones that I wrote about in my last entry were an almost weekly occurrence. People were losing their addictions, coming to Christ, and we had developed a relationship with residents at a dilapidated trailer park up the street. All seemed to be going well, but underneath the surface, there was a quiet tension that people could feel, but no one could "put their finger on."
We had regular revival meetings at the church in which we would bring in speakers and guests from around the country who were gifted in specific areas. For one such revival, we welcomed a renowned Church of God pastor by the name of Claude Robold. Claude spoke every night with fervor and opened up people's minds to the Holy Spirit and his power. One event stands out in my mind as a defining moment in the life of this church. It was Claude's last night with us. When he got up to speak, he looked incredibly disturbed and began his message like this: "It's not terribly often that this happens, but last night, God gave me a dream about your church and I'm supposed to share it with you. In my dream, a man was standing at a boating dock. He had one foot in a boat and the other, he had placed solidly on the dock. There was a voice calling to him, saying, 'Push off! Go into the water. There is so much to explore, so much to experience.' The man cried out in response, 'I can't! I'm too afraid!' I woke up immediately after this dream worried, and asked The Holy Spirit what this means. In an unmistakeable voice, he told me that the man represents your church. He says that you are at a pivotal point and you must make a decision who you will trust. If I were you, I would trust him, because there is much to be done."
It was not too long after this happened that the church folded.
I don't blame any specific person or groups of people for this happening. I know that in the aftermath, many were hurting and angry, but over time, we found that we had all grown because of what happened. Out of that church, many of the youth who attended are in some form of ministry and the laity of the church went on the help plant other churches and lead vibrant ministries around our area.
Part 3:
After that particular stage in my development, I became acquainted with some great friends who attended a church in a small town outside the vast metropolis of Tulsa. That town is called Sapulpa (Oklahoma towns are so much fun to pronounce). So my parents would make the 30 mile trip to Sapulpa twice, sometimes three time a week. Looking back now, I realize what an incredible labor of love that was for them, especially since they attended a different church. The group at Sapulpa embraced me with open arms. The pastor's oldest son had an obsession with the Beattles and I felt welcomed as a part of his family (thanks Steveorino). Friday nights consisted of driving around this small town and flirting with girls at local burger joints (man we were cool). If one of us was handed money by our parents, we would chip in and buy feminine products and red Kool-Aid. I carried a Super-Soaker in my car and we would slap a maxi-pad onto the gas pump of an old country truck stop and spray it with the red liquid. This was "living the dream" to us.
When we weren't disturbing the peace, we honestly were studying the Bible or talking about what it meant to be a hormone-enraged Christian at the height of puberty. I spent several years at this church, and this groups of friends deeply enriched my life. I am grateful for those types of memories. Eventually, the pastor left that church to start another ministry to the unchurched population of the area. I quickly followed and continued to ask the question, "What does it mean to be the people of God?"
More later...
I've been dying to give the next part of my personal narrative, but a lightning storm fried our modem at home, and my work schedule has not allowed for enough time to give to such personal exercises as blogging. Thank God for things like birthdays. I turn 26 today, which means that even though it's a work day, I can still choose the option of saying, "I think I'll work out of the office today." Anyway. Someone commented on my last entry and asked me the question, "What happened to your old church? If God was visiting in such powerful ways, what happened to make the enterprize go belly-up (These are not his exact words of course)?"
Here's what I remember (Remember, these memories are years old and may or may not be 100% accurate. I was 14 at the time.):
The church at the time was going through an interesting period. Miracles like the ones that I wrote about in my last entry were an almost weekly occurrence. People were losing their addictions, coming to Christ, and we had developed a relationship with residents at a dilapidated trailer park up the street. All seemed to be going well, but underneath the surface, there was a quiet tension that people could feel, but no one could "put their finger on."
We had regular revival meetings at the church in which we would bring in speakers and guests from around the country who were gifted in specific areas. For one such revival, we welcomed a renowned Church of God pastor by the name of Claude Robold. Claude spoke every night with fervor and opened up people's minds to the Holy Spirit and his power. One event stands out in my mind as a defining moment in the life of this church. It was Claude's last night with us. When he got up to speak, he looked incredibly disturbed and began his message like this: "It's not terribly often that this happens, but last night, God gave me a dream about your church and I'm supposed to share it with you. In my dream, a man was standing at a boating dock. He had one foot in a boat and the other, he had placed solidly on the dock. There was a voice calling to him, saying, 'Push off! Go into the water. There is so much to explore, so much to experience.' The man cried out in response, 'I can't! I'm too afraid!' I woke up immediately after this dream worried, and asked The Holy Spirit what this means. In an unmistakeable voice, he told me that the man represents your church. He says that you are at a pivotal point and you must make a decision who you will trust. If I were you, I would trust him, because there is much to be done."
It was not too long after this happened that the church folded.
I don't blame any specific person or groups of people for this happening. I know that in the aftermath, many were hurting and angry, but over time, we found that we had all grown because of what happened. Out of that church, many of the youth who attended are in some form of ministry and the laity of the church went on the help plant other churches and lead vibrant ministries around our area.
Part 3:
After that particular stage in my development, I became acquainted with some great friends who attended a church in a small town outside the vast metropolis of Tulsa. That town is called Sapulpa (Oklahoma towns are so much fun to pronounce). So my parents would make the 30 mile trip to Sapulpa twice, sometimes three time a week. Looking back now, I realize what an incredible labor of love that was for them, especially since they attended a different church. The group at Sapulpa embraced me with open arms. The pastor's oldest son had an obsession with the Beattles and I felt welcomed as a part of his family (thanks Steveorino). Friday nights consisted of driving around this small town and flirting with girls at local burger joints (man we were cool). If one of us was handed money by our parents, we would chip in and buy feminine products and red Kool-Aid. I carried a Super-Soaker in my car and we would slap a maxi-pad onto the gas pump of an old country truck stop and spray it with the red liquid. This was "living the dream" to us.
When we weren't disturbing the peace, we honestly were studying the Bible or talking about what it meant to be a hormone-enraged Christian at the height of puberty. I spent several years at this church, and this groups of friends deeply enriched my life. I am grateful for those types of memories. Eventually, the pastor left that church to start another ministry to the unchurched population of the area. I quickly followed and continued to ask the question, "What does it mean to be the people of God?"
More later...
Thursday, May 1, 2008
My Personal Narrative: Part 2
While there weren't many comments on my previous post, I received much feedback, which is encouraging. I guess we find it interesting when someone shares a little about how they developed as a person. Maybe there's even an element of encouragement to hearing someone else and realizing that, "I'm not that crazy after all." Anyway, thanks for the feedback and sorry for being a couple days late with the continuation. It's been an interesting week. So here we go:
After moving into the youth group a year early, I was introduced to the family that volunteered to lead us. This family consisted of a husband, wife, and two sons. We'll call this family the Z's. The wife of the family was an official "leader" in the church. What I mean by that is she would teach most of the time and would do things such as pray, cast vision and also give us wise counsel (This was before the term, "vision" was hip and businesslike in church circles. Nowadays, if you call yourself a "vision-caster," it's church-ease for saying that you are very important.). While this may have been Mrs. Z's job description, her work with confused teens and preteens also turned into a mentoring and mothering role. Also, the ministry of this family was not just limited to the wife, but extended to the husband, who quickly became a healthy model for what a good father and husband looked like, as well as the brothers, who were just generally cool and accepted many of us more dorky pubescent students.
It was while sitting under the ministry and tutelage of this family that I began to better understand who I was (as much as a confused young kid was capable of doing) and who God was. I learned that God loved me for me and not someone else's expectations of me. This is ground-breaking stuff! When you've been taught one way, and then find out that maybe not all of it was true, it changes your world. I learned that God was love and that he had a plan for me.
It was also at this time that some weird things started to happen at our church. People were getting healed on the spot and others were walking into the church with problems that were gone when they walked out. One instance that stands out in my mind is when a drug addict walked into our service and made his way to the front because his wife forced him (women have a way of doing that). The elders and pastors laid hands on him to pray for him and he fell to the floor weeping. I recently met with the former senior pastor of Forest Ridge, and he told me that that man is still clean from drugs and has been a huge help with local ministries. Another instance involves my dad. He was suffering from extremely bad low blood sugar. When he would wake up in the morning, he couldn't walk because he hadn't been able to eat while sleeping (which would create an entirely different kind of problem, if you know what I mean). He would literally roll out of bed and crawl down the hall into the kitchen so he could open the refrigerator and drink orange juice to spike his blood sugar. One Sunday morning, the pastor said he felt led to pray for someone's healing. Receiving a nudge from my mother, he walked down the aisle and didn't even make it to the front before fallling back and hitting the floor.
I know what you're thinking, and I don't really know how to explain it. The pastor didn't even notice my dad until his legs were flying up in the air. My dad got up and everyone was concerned (obviously). He said he felt fine and went back to his seat. He has never dealt with that problem since.
All of these experiences and the people surrounding me gave me roots and formed an understanding of the Christian life that I still look back at with fond memories. This church eventually dissolved and the Z family went on to do other ministries. We all still keep in touch and may even occasionally get together for coffee.
The next phase of my life to discuss will be college....and then, who knows what else (The possibilities are endless!)? Until then, be blessed.
More Later.......
After moving into the youth group a year early, I was introduced to the family that volunteered to lead us. This family consisted of a husband, wife, and two sons. We'll call this family the Z's. The wife of the family was an official "leader" in the church. What I mean by that is she would teach most of the time and would do things such as pray, cast vision and also give us wise counsel (This was before the term, "vision" was hip and businesslike in church circles. Nowadays, if you call yourself a "vision-caster," it's church-ease for saying that you are very important.). While this may have been Mrs. Z's job description, her work with confused teens and preteens also turned into a mentoring and mothering role. Also, the ministry of this family was not just limited to the wife, but extended to the husband, who quickly became a healthy model for what a good father and husband looked like, as well as the brothers, who were just generally cool and accepted many of us more dorky pubescent students.
It was while sitting under the ministry and tutelage of this family that I began to better understand who I was (as much as a confused young kid was capable of doing) and who God was. I learned that God loved me for me and not someone else's expectations of me. This is ground-breaking stuff! When you've been taught one way, and then find out that maybe not all of it was true, it changes your world. I learned that God was love and that he had a plan for me.
It was also at this time that some weird things started to happen at our church. People were getting healed on the spot and others were walking into the church with problems that were gone when they walked out. One instance that stands out in my mind is when a drug addict walked into our service and made his way to the front because his wife forced him (women have a way of doing that). The elders and pastors laid hands on him to pray for him and he fell to the floor weeping. I recently met with the former senior pastor of Forest Ridge, and he told me that that man is still clean from drugs and has been a huge help with local ministries. Another instance involves my dad. He was suffering from extremely bad low blood sugar. When he would wake up in the morning, he couldn't walk because he hadn't been able to eat while sleeping (which would create an entirely different kind of problem, if you know what I mean). He would literally roll out of bed and crawl down the hall into the kitchen so he could open the refrigerator and drink orange juice to spike his blood sugar. One Sunday morning, the pastor said he felt led to pray for someone's healing. Receiving a nudge from my mother, he walked down the aisle and didn't even make it to the front before fallling back and hitting the floor.
I know what you're thinking, and I don't really know how to explain it. The pastor didn't even notice my dad until his legs were flying up in the air. My dad got up and everyone was concerned (obviously). He said he felt fine and went back to his seat. He has never dealt with that problem since.
All of these experiences and the people surrounding me gave me roots and formed an understanding of the Christian life that I still look back at with fond memories. This church eventually dissolved and the Z family went on to do other ministries. We all still keep in touch and may even occasionally get together for coffee.
The next phase of my life to discuss will be college....and then, who knows what else (The possibilities are endless!)? Until then, be blessed.
More Later.......
Monday, April 28, 2008
My Personal Narrative
So, growing up in the church, I've heard all kinds of testimonies from all kinds of people. There's the "I was a preacher's kid and did lots of crack!" testimony, and the "Sinning was tons of fun, but Jesus saved me. Praise God!" testimony, and my personal favorite, the "God delivered me from everything but breathing, and he'll do it for you too!" testimony.
As I was reading today and reflecting on my spiritual pilgrimage (the word "journey" is so overused, but it's hard to replace), I thought about how long it had been since I documented the process that has taken me from who I was and where I was to who I currently am and where I am. I don't think I've written down anything of this type since early in my "college-life," when a call or desire to enter vocational-ministry had to be validated by a grand story of Jesus either sucker-punching the subject in the face or bodily appearing to them with a chorus of angels. Since everything "important" nowadays comes with a disclaimer, warning it's readers of the impending danger of reading a selected work (usually done by an author to excite the reader and appear daring), here is my disclaimer: The following will be very boring to most of you if not all of you. Sorry. It isn't written for you, but it's an exercise for me to work out who I am and where I am currently. It will probably be fragmented, like many of my thoughts. If you happen to actually read it, I hope that it gives you hope, or maybe just a good laugh. In any case, thanks for reading thus far. So, without any further delay, here is my boring personal narrative.
Tulsa, Oklahoma, is know as the "Buckle" of the glorious "Bible-Belt." Almost everything in Tulsa (or Oklahoma for that matter) has been influenced in someway by a traditional, ultra-conservative understanding of the Bible. We have the famous, "Praying Hands Statue," and churches on every street corner competing for the attention of anyone who might drive by. We are one of the last states to legalize tattoos, and if you were to attempt to purchase beer (affectionately called "The Devil's Urine") at the grocery store, it would be half the strength as if you were to buy it at the liquor store. All of that is to illustrate the social environment I have grown up into. It is here where my journey begins.
I was born to a nominal Christian family. What I mean by that is that we attended church every time the doors were open, but we hardly ever prayed together (Unless it was before lunch on Sunday, because that meal belongs to the Lord!). Mom was always very sensitive to spiritual matters and I always knew that she wanted something deeper than what she currently had. There were times when dad would pray with me before I fell asleep, but it was mom who would unflinchingly field my questions about Jesus and what it meant to follow him. In spite of this, it was hard in my formative years to see a direct correlation between the beliefs of my parents and how they lived their lives.
I loved Jesus growing up and thought everyone else felt the same way about him as I did (I guess in that regard, my parents weren't so nominal after-all). But the older I got, the more questions I asked and the less my parents' were able to answer. It even appeared that they were severely inconsistent. I know this sounds ridiculous, but it was when I was ten years old that I tried "rebelling." Rebelling for me consisted of cussing and looking at naughty magazines with my friends (something my parents never addressed, yet I still felt guilty for some reason).
We found community within a small congregation that met in a building that looked like half of a house called, "Forest Ridge Church of God." People would always say, "Oh, you attend the half-church.... Is that a cult?" My family attended for the friendships and the teaching, I attended because I felt guilty for my attempts at rebellion. I was wanting to find out if God really loved me or if he was mad at me for looking at things I had no business looking at and saying things I had no business saying.
The summer of my sixth-grade year, I was invited to enter the youth group of the church. Most other years, a student had to be entering the seventh grade to "move up" into youth group, but the church was small and there were no other kids my age (plus teenage girls were alot prettier than girls in my age group). It was here that everything changed and I began to develop my "roots."
More Tomorrow...
As I was reading today and reflecting on my spiritual pilgrimage (the word "journey" is so overused, but it's hard to replace), I thought about how long it had been since I documented the process that has taken me from who I was and where I was to who I currently am and where I am. I don't think I've written down anything of this type since early in my "college-life," when a call or desire to enter vocational-ministry had to be validated by a grand story of Jesus either sucker-punching the subject in the face or bodily appearing to them with a chorus of angels. Since everything "important" nowadays comes with a disclaimer, warning it's readers of the impending danger of reading a selected work (usually done by an author to excite the reader and appear daring), here is my disclaimer: The following will be very boring to most of you if not all of you. Sorry. It isn't written for you, but it's an exercise for me to work out who I am and where I am currently. It will probably be fragmented, like many of my thoughts. If you happen to actually read it, I hope that it gives you hope, or maybe just a good laugh. In any case, thanks for reading thus far. So, without any further delay, here is my boring personal narrative.
Tulsa, Oklahoma, is know as the "Buckle" of the glorious "Bible-Belt." Almost everything in Tulsa (or Oklahoma for that matter) has been influenced in someway by a traditional, ultra-conservative understanding of the Bible. We have the famous, "Praying Hands Statue," and churches on every street corner competing for the attention of anyone who might drive by. We are one of the last states to legalize tattoos, and if you were to attempt to purchase beer (affectionately called "The Devil's Urine") at the grocery store, it would be half the strength as if you were to buy it at the liquor store. All of that is to illustrate the social environment I have grown up into. It is here where my journey begins.
I was born to a nominal Christian family. What I mean by that is that we attended church every time the doors were open, but we hardly ever prayed together (Unless it was before lunch on Sunday, because that meal belongs to the Lord!). Mom was always very sensitive to spiritual matters and I always knew that she wanted something deeper than what she currently had. There were times when dad would pray with me before I fell asleep, but it was mom who would unflinchingly field my questions about Jesus and what it meant to follow him. In spite of this, it was hard in my formative years to see a direct correlation between the beliefs of my parents and how they lived their lives.
I loved Jesus growing up and thought everyone else felt the same way about him as I did (I guess in that regard, my parents weren't so nominal after-all). But the older I got, the more questions I asked and the less my parents' were able to answer. It even appeared that they were severely inconsistent. I know this sounds ridiculous, but it was when I was ten years old that I tried "rebelling." Rebelling for me consisted of cussing and looking at naughty magazines with my friends (something my parents never addressed, yet I still felt guilty for some reason).
We found community within a small congregation that met in a building that looked like half of a house called, "Forest Ridge Church of God." People would always say, "Oh, you attend the half-church.... Is that a cult?" My family attended for the friendships and the teaching, I attended because I felt guilty for my attempts at rebellion. I was wanting to find out if God really loved me or if he was mad at me for looking at things I had no business looking at and saying things I had no business saying.
The summer of my sixth-grade year, I was invited to enter the youth group of the church. Most other years, a student had to be entering the seventh grade to "move up" into youth group, but the church was small and there were no other kids my age (plus teenage girls were alot prettier than girls in my age group). It was here that everything changed and I began to develop my "roots."
More Tomorrow...
Thursday, April 24, 2008
What would happen?
"You Christians look after a document containing enough dynamite to blow all civilization to pieces, turn the world upside down, and bring peace to a battle-torn planet. But you treat it as though it is nothing more than a piece of good literature." -Mohandas Gandhi
I know that I've pointed this out before, but I think it needs repeating. Most every sermon preached in scripture lead either to mass conversion or mass hysteria. When a glimpse of God's Kingdom invades earth, people are either repulsed to the point of rioting or their entire way of being changes. It's something similar to throwing a molotov cocktail into a crowd of people and dealing with the aftermath (except alot less bloody for the audience).
What would happen if the people of God told the message of God and lived out the life of Jesus without restraint? What would happen if the messages in scripture were explained in their entirety, without murdering context and without fear of financial repercussions for the institution? The world truly would be a better place because the church would be better able to not only communicate Jesus through mere words, but also through deeds of kindness, reconciliation and justice.
This is something that should haunt us to know end because we know that an entirely new way of existence is possible here and now. The disciples lived it and it spread like a virus. Will you join me in being bothered by the way things currently are. Will you join me in not accepting the status-quo. Let's be uncomfortable together. Let's walk out of the sanctuary and put hands and feet to our rehearsed prayers. Let's work at taking Jesus seriously.
"Just crawl across this desert heat and become tragic with me. And now that we are not alone, you know that we could never be!" - Andrew Schwab, Project 86
I know that I've pointed this out before, but I think it needs repeating. Most every sermon preached in scripture lead either to mass conversion or mass hysteria. When a glimpse of God's Kingdom invades earth, people are either repulsed to the point of rioting or their entire way of being changes. It's something similar to throwing a molotov cocktail into a crowd of people and dealing with the aftermath (except alot less bloody for the audience).
What would happen if the people of God told the message of God and lived out the life of Jesus without restraint? What would happen if the messages in scripture were explained in their entirety, without murdering context and without fear of financial repercussions for the institution? The world truly would be a better place because the church would be better able to not only communicate Jesus through mere words, but also through deeds of kindness, reconciliation and justice.
This is something that should haunt us to know end because we know that an entirely new way of existence is possible here and now. The disciples lived it and it spread like a virus. Will you join me in being bothered by the way things currently are. Will you join me in not accepting the status-quo. Let's be uncomfortable together. Let's walk out of the sanctuary and put hands and feet to our rehearsed prayers. Let's work at taking Jesus seriously.
"Just crawl across this desert heat and become tragic with me. And now that we are not alone, you know that we could never be!" - Andrew Schwab, Project 86
Thursday, March 27, 2008
A Holistic Take on the Great Commission
“Ivan Illich was once asked, ‘What is the most revolutionary way to change society: Is it violent revolution or is it gradual reform?’ He gave a careful answer: ‘Neither. If you want to change society, then you must tell an alternative story,’ he concluded.” - Tim Costello
Well, I made it through the Lent season decaffeinated and void of recreational Internet usage. I must say that it was a great time of reflection and preparation for Resurrection Sunday, contrary to some of the comments I received from a brother in the Reformed tradition.
During my blog-fast, Lindsey and I had the privilege of welcoming a few friends into our home for a couple days. One afternoon, while lounging around our cramped apartment, our friend Travis lowered a book from his gaze and said something like this, “I think we forget the part of the Great Commission where Jesus told his disciples to teach others to obey EVERYTHING he commanded them. That’s a pretty big responsibility!” This obvious, yet profound statement has lingered in my head since then. I catch myself asking questions like, “Are we teaching those we experience life with to obey EVERYTHING Jesus commanded? Is there anything I’m leaving out of my teaching and ministry? Is there more to ‘discipleship’ than instruction?”
I am grateful to those who trained me in the ways of the Christ-centered life, but I think there may have inadvertently been a few things missing from my spiritually formative years. Every year, before we left church camp, the pastors and directors would remind us to read our Bibles and to pray. One year, I finally decided to take them seriously and began reading scripture and conversing with the Almighty (a dangerous thing if you do not want to change). As I did this, I noticed a dramatic contrast between the words and actions of Christ and his disciples when I looked at the church.
I am aware of the Great Commandment to love God and my neighbor. I agree with Jesus, that all of life hinges upon this one rule, but how is it lived out? I don’t find it a struggle to say that most evangelical churches focus on saving the soul of an individual while at times neglecting the psychological, the physical, and the societal parts that make up the whole of human existence. When I search the scriptures, I find Jesus concerned about all of someone’s being. He ministered to their soul, as well as their body. He restored their relationship with the Father as well as their relationships to their neighbors. He fed them with words from the prophets as well is with food from a little boy’s lunch. He came to seek and save the lost, but he also came to set the captives free and bind the oppressed.
The question that I want to pose is: Are we approaching ministry holistically, as Jesus taught, or are we ignoring parts of the Great Commission? Are we doing ministry as Jesus modeled, or do we simply turn away from aspects of his ministry that make us uncomfortable? As for me, I’m attempting to be more conscious of how I teach my youth and others who’ll listen. Maybe true discipleship is more than filling our heads with just knowledge. Maybe it also involves action as well.
Well, I made it through the Lent season decaffeinated and void of recreational Internet usage. I must say that it was a great time of reflection and preparation for Resurrection Sunday, contrary to some of the comments I received from a brother in the Reformed tradition.
During my blog-fast, Lindsey and I had the privilege of welcoming a few friends into our home for a couple days. One afternoon, while lounging around our cramped apartment, our friend Travis lowered a book from his gaze and said something like this, “I think we forget the part of the Great Commission where Jesus told his disciples to teach others to obey EVERYTHING he commanded them. That’s a pretty big responsibility!” This obvious, yet profound statement has lingered in my head since then. I catch myself asking questions like, “Are we teaching those we experience life with to obey EVERYTHING Jesus commanded? Is there anything I’m leaving out of my teaching and ministry? Is there more to ‘discipleship’ than instruction?”
I am grateful to those who trained me in the ways of the Christ-centered life, but I think there may have inadvertently been a few things missing from my spiritually formative years. Every year, before we left church camp, the pastors and directors would remind us to read our Bibles and to pray. One year, I finally decided to take them seriously and began reading scripture and conversing with the Almighty (a dangerous thing if you do not want to change). As I did this, I noticed a dramatic contrast between the words and actions of Christ and his disciples when I looked at the church.
I am aware of the Great Commandment to love God and my neighbor. I agree with Jesus, that all of life hinges upon this one rule, but how is it lived out? I don’t find it a struggle to say that most evangelical churches focus on saving the soul of an individual while at times neglecting the psychological, the physical, and the societal parts that make up the whole of human existence. When I search the scriptures, I find Jesus concerned about all of someone’s being. He ministered to their soul, as well as their body. He restored their relationship with the Father as well as their relationships to their neighbors. He fed them with words from the prophets as well is with food from a little boy’s lunch. He came to seek and save the lost, but he also came to set the captives free and bind the oppressed.
The question that I want to pose is: Are we approaching ministry holistically, as Jesus taught, or are we ignoring parts of the Great Commission? Are we doing ministry as Jesus modeled, or do we simply turn away from aspects of his ministry that make us uncomfortable? As for me, I’m attempting to be more conscious of how I teach my youth and others who’ll listen. Maybe true discipleship is more than filling our heads with just knowledge. Maybe it also involves action as well.
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