I’ve had enough with “Christian” bumper stickers! If you sport one of these–do God and Jesus-followers a favor and take a razor blade and some hot soapy water and get rid of it.
Today’s bumper sticker read:
God doesn’t believe in Athiests.
What a message of hope huh?
Story #1: I was at a conference a couple of years ago where we were participating in the Lord’s Supper (communion)–an ancient experience started by Jesus on the night before He was betrayed and arrested where you eat bread (representing Jesus’ body) and drink wine or grape juice (representing Jesus’ blood shed) in rememberance of His sacrifice for you and me. During this one particular experience one of the pastors at my church was offering the bread to a whole bunch of high school students. In the mix was her daughter, a fifth grader at that time, who took a huge hunk of the bread, dipped the entire handful in the grape juice and proceeded to have a full meal of the Body. Not two minutes later, when the line was still quite long, this little girl taught me a very valuable lesson. She ran up next to her mom, still offering the Body, and stood there trying her best to get her mom’s attention. Finally, mom looked down at daughter (disapprovingly) and asked her what she wanted.
“I want some more bread!” she innocently exclaimed.
When was the last time you ran to the front of any line to get more of Jesus?
Story #2: Yesterday was communion Sunday for our fifth and sixth grade students. This was to be their first experience with the Lord’s Table which is a pretty big deal for students and families at my church. I was talking with a couple of the fifth grade girls afterwards about what they thought about the whole experience.
In unison and with eyes rolling back in their heads they said, “The bread was SOOOOOO good!”
When was the last time you were overwhelmed with how good Jesus tastes?
Story #3: Last night we were participating in the Lord’s Table at a community called Open Door. Once the evening was over and we were cleaning up, I noticed that there was a stack of bread loaf pieces left over. (Usually there isn’t any left over because my friend’s two kids will chow down on whats left of the bread after the experience is over.) There are a couple of homeless guys who call Open Door their church–which I love! One of them came up to me and mentioned that that bread looked awfully good. I asked him if he would like to take some with him. “Would that be okay?” he wondered.
“Not only is it okay–take all the bread you can get!” I answered.
When was the last time you were hungry for more of Jesus?
I’m reading a great book right now called Emerging Churches by Eddie Gibbs and Ryan Bloger. Through vast research in the U.S. and the U.K., they have defined 9 characteristics that are shared by “emerging churches.” Read the book to discover what they are…
Here are some of my intitial thoughts–
I wonder about the “emerging church.” What is it really? I am a part of what some would call an “emerging” church or an “emerging community”, but I have no idea why. Frankly, I am a bit confused about why this new movement is here and what they/we (whoever they/we are) stand for.
If we are an emerging church–are we a church? To me, the word “emerging” would imply that it hasn’t arrived quite yet. Perhaps there is truth in that. (This point is discussed in the book).
Recently, I have been in on several conversations where the “emerging church” has been defined as a response to the church not doing its job or becoming irrelevant. I don’t like the thought of any flavor of the church being a reaction to anything. There will always be an new fad–a way of doing church. My fear is that we all get so caught up in the conversation of how to do church that we lose sight of what it means to BE the church. The title of “The Emerging Church” potentially spells more alienation or division.
As I tap more into this book (which is very helpful) I would love to be able to dialogue with you about the “emerging church.”
My second question: Can you paint a picture from the Text of what the Church was originally designed as and for?
My first question: What is your definition of the “emerging church?”
In order for the rest of this story to make any sense, you are going to have to get to know who the main characters are. In my next five posts, I will paint pictures for you of the men that I was privileged to serve side by side with. These Pakistani men went from unknown to me to friends–from friends to brothers (More to come on this in the future).
Known by his friends as “Baby Sparrow” Afzal represtented youth on the military team that welcomed us to Jabba on that cold November day. He is currently 19 years-old, a 2nd-year private in the Army, and engaged to be married this year. Afzal was that “little man” with a huge heart who thought that he was “bigger” than he actually was. Being that he was in the military, he held his head high with pride seeing his role as a virtuous, honorable position. Afzal considered himself the best at everything that he did, but was often shot down by his elder teammates who would quickly remind him that they frequently finished ahead of him in athletics and other military games. (They would put him in his place by shaking their heads and saying, “OOOOH Baby Sparrow but do you remember when….”and they would tell a story of when they beat him badly in a competition.)
After spending a couple of days with Afzal I discovered that he would take every opportunity to have tea prepared so that he could sit out for a while. He would frequently invite me to such tea breaks which I couldn’t turn down (because I wasn’t allowed to). Tea breaks with Afzal, although tastey, were difficult and a bit awkward because he thought that he could speak better English than he acutally could. The only thing that he said that I could ever really understand was, “Jeremia–I AM FULL-TIME HAPPY!” He would exclaim this with great joy and with a huge smile on his face. My response to such a statement was always the same–“Afzal–you are the only one that I know that is full-time happy!” He seemed to love this because it set him apart from anyone else.
One time I was having tea in the military’s quarter with Afzal and he decided to put on a bit of a show for me. He was shirtless and thought that I would be excited about seeing how strong he was. He would flex and grunt and pose and check the status of his wee-bicept and then look to me for a response. I would go on and on about how strong he was–which of course he loved. I noticed that he had an interesting scar on his chest so I decided to ask about it.
He came closer and I realized that it wasn’t just a scar, it was actually a brand. I learned, after many misunderstandings, that this was the name of his fiancee Janet. I wish you could have heard the way that he spoke of his wife to be. Every time he would mention her name he would touch his heart (under the brand) and close his eyes.
He assured me that this marriage was an arranged/love marriage. This means that the marriage was set up between the two families, but that their arrangement had blossomed into love. I asked him why He had her name branded on his chest. I’ll never forget his response:
“So that when I close my eyes, I can see her in my heart.”
How do you function when you “land” in a new community? Does the thought of not knowing anyone intimidate you or get you excited?
What about “landing” in the tribal areas of Northern Pakistan where you have no idea what you’re going to see, what you’re going to experience nor who you’re going to meet? How do you prepare yourself for something like that?
When we arrived in Jabba we were surprised to find five Pakistani Army personel stationed there. We were told beforehand that Jabba, being a tribal area, had no military presence. Reason being, in the tribal areas, they are their own government and their own military. This meant that the villagers served as soldiers. However, due to the earthquake, the government deployed the military to help head the relief effort.
Shortly after the greeting of Mumtaz (more to come later) we were quickly introduced to the four other Army personel along with the three Americans that we were replacing. There was already a strong friendship between these three (all from Minnesota) and the military which was exciting yet caused a bit of anxiety as well. What was it going to be like when the three Minnesotans left the next morning? Is the friendship that I saw existing between them going to form between us–a new team–and them? Will they know our names like they knew the names of this first team?
Wait a second…I picked up on FRIENDSHIP existing between three random Americans and Pakistani Military personel. I watched laughter–I saw hugs. They KNEW each other’s names.
Why did something so simple catch me so off guard? What was I expecting to find? Perhaps I was hoping that relationships would form but was pessimistic about it actually happening. Can Muslims and Christians actually get along. Can FRIENDSHIP really exist between these two worlds?
What about your friends? Do you have FRIENDS that don’t believe the same thing you do? Do you have FRIENDS that look differently than you?
If you don’t–WHY NOT?
Our first glimpse reminded me of Machu Picchu–a Peruvian mystery community–in its landscaping. Jabba (pronounced not like Jabba-the-Hut but the emphasis on the second syllable) was a village built right into the sides of two mountains with a babbling brook trickling through its relatively insignificant valley. These weren’t your typical mountains with a gradual incline; these mountains went straight up. Thus, the villages had learned (a couple of thousand years ago) how to landscape in such a way that levels or tiers were created to support not only their homes but their corn fields as well. I was suprised to discover that this was an agricultural people who survived on the corn and wheat that they were able to grow and harvest before the winter set in.
Jabba was a village of 1500 people and 120 homes. Due to the earthquake, I later discovered that over 300 of their people had died and they had lost 100 of their homes, leaving several hundred people homeless. Many of them were living in donated tents, the old school buildings, or barns that had not fallen. Every building that was left standing was significantly damaged, however, and will likely be torn down and rebuilt once the spring comes.
Imagine this….You have never seen an American before. What’s more, you likely have never seen anything outside of your small village or valley. All of a sudden, a huge flying machine lands in your most spacious corn field. What do you think that must have been like for the people of Jabba?
By the time we landed, there were about 100 men and boys squatting just out of reach of the helicopter blades watching with wide-eyes as this “thing” hovered above them before landing gently into the ice-cold mud below. They must have thought the world was coming to an end–and then the “thing” opened and out came four Americans dressed in colorful jackets.
We were greeted with a wave of ice-cold air, confusion, anxiety, and the warm welcome of Mumtaz–a Pakistani Army Commander who was stationed in Jabba.