It's Getting Better all the Ti-i-ime: New Bern 3

It is, and that's good.

This blog will be shorter than most. It's more of an update than a journal, but hopefully it will still be fun...

I wrote a song, which can be see HERE.

I wrote another song, which can be seen HERE - but fair warning, it's expressing a harder emotion than I am currently experiencing. It's just what came out while i was writing. I've felt that way before, but right now, I'm having more peace with just waiting for God.

I led worship for a speaker from England, named Ian Andrews, who can be seen HERE.
He was saved under Martin Lloyd-Jones. Yeah. Sick.

I was shown an INCREDIBLE website which gives you multiple Bible translations (including Greek), Strongs Concordance, and Commentaries. Goodbye, Biblegateway, hello Biblos.

I took some pictures, like this one:

I've met people my age! Yall can add that to your thank-you-prayers.

I've met a ton of local pastors.

We are fasting and praying tomorrow for the church. Join in if you like, if not tomorrow then whenever.

I finished reading Job, digging through the Psalms.

I've revised my opinion of Life Together. Only the first 30 pages are required reading. The rest is dense, but good. I'm currently reading Movements that Changed the World, by Addison. I had my doubts, but pretty good thus far. The Moravians are inspiring, to be sure.

I recommend Meteor Shower by Owl City. Great song, worship potential.

In short, I still am fairly clueless as to what I ought do. BUT, I'm beginning to see that my very presence is having an effect, on both the inertia of the team meetings and the spirits of the leadership. It's becoming easier to rest in what God's doing as it becomes more obvious how little my role truly is. Humbling, yes, but when you've been agonizing over what to do, it is a welcome truth, that I truly do little. God is at work in me, to will and to do.

If you're the praying type, I'm just begging to know God more. I'm slowly coming to a posture in which I don't care what that looks like. If the glory of God lays me flat (hasn't happened yet), or his joy fills me to the point of laughter (has happened before), or lays on my heart an urging to do something (like pray for healing, which has happened, or sing a particular song, which has happened), or convicts me a new sin (definitely happened), or gives me a deeper, fresh revelation of His Word in Scripture (definitely happened), then ok. Whatever. I'm game. Just give me Jesus, as the old hymn goes, when I wake, and when I sleep. I want to walk in the spirit, to be an instrument of God's purposes, of His kingdom now. And so, I just want to get closer to Him. Pray for me, if you will, as I pray.

Sidenote, a friend of mine is getting married Sunday, so I get to take a quick trip to chucktown for that. Yes, safety traveling would be great, but even greater would be a wedding that points to Christ the groom and His love for His Bride, the church. So, lift up the wedding too. The couple would have it no other way.

One last point. Psalm 7:17 says "I will give to the Lord the thanks due to His righteousness". I thought, well that's strange. Praise due, honor due, glory due... I get those. But thanks for being righteous? I don't get it. Then I thought about what life would be like without a righteous God. Yup. I will thank Him for being righteous. It's much better than the alternative.

Well, ta-ta for now. Or perhaps ka-ka, seeing as how Brazil is playing these days...

-drew

I am Not a Rock: New Bern 2

Apologies for length, but it's story time.

Church planting is like tomato picking season. There just is no off time. Most days we are driving around, exploring and praying, and meeting locals. At least, trying to. But Thursdays I have off. I don’t really know anyone, so I drive downtown, to explore, pray and meet people, and boom- I’m working again. What can you do?

Choo choo*

Confession of the day: I wrestle with doubt. I work for the church, doggone it, doubt should be impossible for someone with my job. But every few months, the father’s prayer for his demon-possessed son, begging for healing, rings anew in me. I believe, help me overcome my unbelief. Amazing that I can beg for God to speak to me, seek His will for my life, pray fervently for miracles, and even see them, and still doubt. But oh my heart is as hard and stubborn as the metal seat that refuses to remain straight on the old epicyclic [automatic win] Raleigh. I need Christ, in whom I wrestle to believe, to replace my seat, er, heart, altogether.

Of course, Jesus does deliver the boy, in the end.

A few days ago ferocious Buster became quite frightened by something under my bed. I looked, didn’t see anything. A ferocious dog afraid of monsters under the bed… hm.

And then K, the two-year-old belonging to my host family, is scared of the giant, portable oscillating fan in my room. She talks all the time, isn’t particularly shy. Yet she fears the fan. “Das a big fan” she says every morning, peeking through the door, open just a crack. “It is a big fan,” I reply, every morning. At night it’s on as I sleep, rolling its lazy breath up and down my futon. It rustles the curtains, a calendar on the wall, and some ribbon tied around wheat bunches by the window. Every once in a while the sound startles me, unnervingly similar to someone in the room. So, I guess I’m a little scared of the big fan too.

And, to be fair to the dog, I was not excited about looking under the bed after his obvious fright.

I encountered some-thing downtown, on my ‘day off’. A woman was walking towards me, muttering, and something just wasn’t right. I said “Hello” in passing, attempting to fit as much love as I could in a greeting. In response, she spit at me. Just, whatever saliva was in her mouth, like I would if I came across the wicked witch of the west without a bucket of water. And she kept walking, still muttering a stream of un-understandables. I’m not sure if any saliva made contact, but I was less concerned with my cleanliness than I was with trying to figure out what the heck just happened. I've worked with mentally ill persons before, and it didn't feel like that. This woman possessed anger, loathing, a ferocity like I would expect to see in, well, someone possessed. I’ve never really encountered that before, but it’s the only way I can describe the woman. Something was plain wrong, like hearing a rustling in the dark while you sleep, or having a usually fearless dog growling at something in your room. Unnerving.

I tried to measure out a response, but I had nothing. I thought maybe I’d try to buy her lunch and talk, offer prayer or something, but she was far off down the street by then. I waited, half expecting God to bring her back my way. But she kept walking, until I lost sight of her. I wandered into a store by habit, somewhat dazed. I’ve found that, when I’m in a new place, spending money seems a willing substitute for community. But, it leaves me hollow. So, usually I don’t spend, just explore, try to meet people. Church plant, really.

I meandered around town, until I happened upon the library. I had wanted to check it out. So, I walked in, explored a bit, moved towards the chairs by the magazines. And there she was, again, sitting by herself, muttering. But this time we were in an enclosed area, so I could smell her. She had obviously been on the street for a while.

The muttering was more unnerving than the spitting, and there’s no way I could claim this double meeting as chance. So I grabbed a “Nat-Geo” magazine and found me a seat a few chairs over and in a row perpendicular to hers. Unsure of what to do, and without feeling particularly led to say anything, I waited. Every time she would start muttering, I would pray under my breath. It felt like denaturing venom, like canceling out something. Like defense (contrast to offense).

Sitting in the library, my mind was racing with scenarios, a staple of the Drew brain.

Scenario a): I start a conversation. What do I say? I don’t have any sense of leading… ( Scenario ‘a’ immediately scrapped)

Scenario b): she says something loud enough for me to hear, and I need to respond. The conversation could get loud. How do I respond to onlookers? (‘b’ appears most likely, ergo I brace myself).

Scenario c): She attacks me. Runs at me, screaming. Yells. Screams curses or something at me.

I figure I probably pray, in the name of Jesus Christ, out loud, and command her to stop. But, what if she doesn’t? Do I stand my ground like with a mountain lion (thanks, D. Gardner)? Or pull a Bear Grylls vs. rhino, waiting until the last possible moment then diving left? Or ‘Coolhand Luke’ it, and, after she takes me down, stand up until she does it again (repeat ad nauseam)? How do I do crowd/damage control if someone goes violent?

Ok. I didn’t really think about animals, or movies. But I legitimately considered all of those outcomes. What if she attacked, and God didn’t come through? What if the name of Jesus Christ didn’t work? What would I say to the onlookers? Here we encounter some of my doubt, that of which I previously spoke. I truly felt threatened, and hated, yes, but it revealed a deeper brokenness in my heart. How such a small ripple can challenge me, oh sailor of Sunfish, and challenge my faith too. Praise God that my ‘anchor in the veil’ is Christ, for I am decidedly unstable. I am not as much a rock as I had hoped.

But then she left. She just up and went, muttering and all, albeit muttering less after my prayers. And I finished my magazine.

Fun fact of the week: the locals say New Bern was once the Wicca capital of the United States. Perhaps my unnerving is merited.

I woke up twice that night, wide awake, and the only thing I could think to do was pray for the city, both times. I reckon God is leading me, but this is all new. I eventually fell asleep singing the chorus to ‘Desert Song’ (Brooke Fraser) over and over in my head. Great song.

I’m reading Bonhoeffer, “Life Together”. It’s on the fluid reading list, after “Celebration of Discipline” (Foster). I feel like I’m kicking over anthills and finding diamonds. ‘Celebration’ is phenomenal in that it walks you through ways of entering God’s presence practically. But ‘Life’, is genuinely worshipful. It speaks of the way that we have Christian community, through Christ (removing shame and ego) and in Christ (relying not on what others do to determine our behavior towards them, but instead relying on what God has done to us both, in Christ). Then it talks about how community is essential, because Christians are, to eachother, both living testimonies of the present and communal nature of a triune God, and witnesses to the Gospel for eachother. I was forced to worship as I read- a sign of a darn good book. Should be required reading (at least the first 30 pages) for camp staff. And all my friends. Read that book.

And so I pray for community. I have some, though little, and it’s growing, praise God. And the Spirit within me is all I theologically need, though it’s often harder to act that way when you don't feel it

Pray for me in that, and pray for spiritual discernment too, that I would know what I’m up against, how to respond, and for the faith so to do.

I am not a rock.

But with God, and with many of you as my true Christian community,

I am not an island either. And for that I’m grateful.

-drew

*a new train of thought. yes I did.

Hide or Go Seek: New Bern 1

This will be an unusual summer. I am interning with Mark Cooke, Pastor at an AMiA church plant in New Bern, NC. My job description: interning. That's all I've got so far.

I arrived yesterday. I'm living with their current worship guy, Joel, his wife, and their two year old. And their lap dog. Reminds me more of a jackal on the safari than a house dog, but sure is a rambunctious pup. And deceived. Buster honestly believes he's ferocious.

In truth, he has left a mark on me already. Well, really just on my rug. Good morning, New Bern.

I drove around downtown for a few hours today, stopping at antique shops, coffee shops, and Lowes to buy a nut for an ancient Raleigh three-speed I'm fixing up. It uses an epicyclic gearing system. Try throwing that into a conversation. Automatic win.

My leaving home and my arrival here slid well into my personal scripture-studies. In Ezra 3:11-13, the temple is being rebuilt, starting with a new foundation. There is singing, shouting praise, celebration. Then it says "But the older priests and Levites and family heads, who had seen the former temple, wept aloud when they saw the foundation of this temple being laid... No one could distinguish the sound of the shouts of joy from the sound of weeping, because the people made so much noise. And the sound was heard far away."

What an arresting description. Often I'll be moving through a passage, when something 'arrests' my faculties and forces me to 'dwell' on some word or phrase, even when I don't immediately see the relevance. I assume that's the Holy Spirit at work.

Ezra, weeping mixed with shouts. My life.

Too often I cry with the elders. It's hard to move on, even when it's progress. Hershey appeals to my soul when it advertises"change is bad", even though we all know air conditioning, penicillin, and epicyclic gears (automatic win) are incredible counter-examples. Too often I want to sit, even if it's in the ruins of a demolished temple. It hurts to see something new replace something old. Even when it's a good thing.

God, at least in my life, must be chased beyond fond reminiscences. He must not be left to the moment I first acknowledged my need for Him, in 6th grade, Mondo Weekend, with KB speaking in a circus tent. He will not be contained by the past, nor by the present. Nor by camp, as I must remind myself. He does not stay anywhere. He's moving, and so I am going to follow, if I can.

Many people have asked why I chose not to be at camp this summer. I chose to leave camp because I felt in my gut that God wanted me gone. Simple as that, in theory, but a painful decision, with much wrestling.

I do have some ideas as to why God sent me out, general truths that I see accomplished in my leaving. God may laugh with joyful, me-contradicting omniscience as I write these, but it's what i see so far:
1- God is in the business of multiplication. There is a dearth of leadership in the church, and so God wants to create more leaders, to spread His kingdom. If I get out of the way, new leaders are raised up. It's a good thing.
2-I am sinful. I seek admiration, even worship, for myself, from those to whom I minister. To be embarrassingly honest, much of my identity is tied up in what peers, particularly girls, think of me. God has gifted, anointed, blessed (pick your word) me in leading worship, a calling I will claim gladly. But I am quick to hold it up to my peers, that they might be in awe of it, the gift, and of me, instead of the giver. The creature, over the creation. You see, my soul is quite sick. And so, God is calling me to a place where my gifts pale in the presence of worship leaders far better than I, to lead in worship those who I am less interested in impressing. It's a good thing.
3-I am still more broken, in that I seek my steadiness in friends, family. I often believe my faith will be secure if I am close to my family. If I am with friends. If I am with those I trust, or agree with, then I will be secure, my salvation solidified, my path clear and well lit. Yet this too is sin, for it is based on two false principles. First, that my family and friends are perfect, and two, that I know perfection when I see it. In reality, my eyes are as blind as a mole, and my friends and family will fail. Christ, as it turns out, is the only solid rock, the only firm ground. I empathize with Peter, when he responds, to Jesus' asking if they want to leave, with "Lord, to whom else can we go?" There's a little resignation present in his voice. At least, in my voice, when I read it aloud. Me leaving means i can no longer lean on my incredible family, and my great friends (particularly at camp). But they simply are not it. Nothing is, save God. Where else can I go?

The old stuff was good. Is good. Youth retreats led me well. Camp, family and friends led me well. God has done undeniable work in me, through all these gifts. And they are probably not done. I may yet return to summer camp, or youth retreats. I am fairly confident that family and friends will remain integral parts of my calling. I owe Him all the gratitude I can find for them- yet He himself is something altogether different, and therefore, I think, must be known separately. And so, in pursuit of Him, I must count all things as loss.

I hear He's in New Bern for the summer.

Mark says the definition of a religious spirit is one that sees God in the past yet resists Him in the present, while he that has the Holy Spirit seeks first the kingdom, even today, forcibly overtaking it.

Religious spirit, or holy spirit. Old Temple weeping or new temple shouting. Hide or Go Seek.

Pick. And pray for me as I pick the latter.

More news/thoughts soon. I'll post my summer booklist as soon as it's finalized, for discussion and review. Heck, I'll post my job description too, if I ever get one ;). And maybe some pics.

-Drew