a Brief Distraction

I'm waiting for the Hunger Games midnight premier.  No, i haven't read the books, and no, I'm not in costume.  It's just a good excuse to do something fun with friends.  Right this very moment I am sitting outside of a closed Barnes and Noble, taking a break from writing a blog on the purposeless nature of the church (yeah, brace yourselves),  and thus, this story from the past week is a brief distraction.  Which, I think, is also why so many people are waiting outside Palmetto Grande an hour before the movies starts.  They are looking for a distraction.  I know because I often want one, and few distractions are better than an alternate world where we see the good win over inestimable odds, all in less than an hour.  Still, you're left with that 'if only I was a part of something like that' feeling. Alas, I digress.  Back to the story.

I arrived to Wednesday night worship at St. Andrews late, as usual.  Coming from worship practice with the highschool folk, I'm usually enjoying some conversation with them well past 6:30.  This week was no exception.  A great conversation.  Alas, I digress.

I went into worship.  I didn't feel enthrallment with the Lord, even much desire for Him.  I hate it, but that is not unusual for me, which you should know.  I fought the battle in my head once again.  Am I a hypocrite if I raise my hands when I'm not feeling anything?  If I sit down, would standing get my heart more involved?  I stood, I raised my hands.  I was tired, but pressing in past emotional stalemate.  Such is faith, I think.  That's what God's been teaching me, of late.  Alas, I digress.

Anyway, the speaker began teaching on centering prayer.  She was narrowing down to her focus, but I was tired of waiting and ready for God to move.  And, I'd heard it before.  My dad's taught on centering prayer, I've heard of breathing prayer, the Jesus prayer.  I shut my eyes to center, to listen.  And immediately a picture flashed in my mind.  It was a river in a clay/mud/sand plain that had eroded its banks such that they fell away at least four or five feet on each side, washed out to the point of near-collapse.  Everything including the river was an orange-tinged brown, and monochromatic foam and rubble floated downstream to the right in drifts and piles.

I looked up at the speaker, but the image seemed important, like it might have been God speaking.  So, I went back to it and asked God what He wanted to share.  It seemed like the river symbolized me, somehow, but what were the drifts?  Did they mean something?

I was thinking about this, waiting on the Lord, when suddenly I heard the speaker say, very clearly, "So, you see a river, and there's a lot of debris floating down it."  I almost fell out of the pew.  It was as though she had read my mind.  Part of centering prayer, as she went on to explain, was allowing your distractions to drift away, using a word or a phrase to bring your mind to center.  That is, to the acknowledgement of God's presence and love.

I dove in.  I chose the word 'presence', because it is what I want to know so badly.  And so we waiting.  As I spoke the word, the plain turned green, and my view turned upstream where the debris was becoming less and less.  And as I spoke, the plain to the left formed a soft rise.  And on the rise, I think.  Was Jesus.  He wasn't looking at me, but he was calling those around me to Him.

I think as I work through more Ananias prayer stuff, learning to forgive myself and walk in freedom, I expect to see him looking at me more and more.  But, in any case, it was a beautiful moment, and a sweet reminder that the Lord is guiding my steps.  Even when I feel nothing, even when I am not expecting, or not perceiving, He is moving, and calling me.  The process not, is learning to see distractions and let them drift away, to the right and out of view, as my eyes shift left and look to my Lord.

Jesus, would you continue to call me to Yourself.  Would you remind me of Your love for me, of my oft' buried love for you.  Teach me to lay aside those things which steal my attention.  Teach me to see Your face, turned towards me.  I turn to You.  I know You, and press on to know You, for you have made me Your own.  Thank you.

Intersections

I struggle with returning from Nicaragua to my day job.  Yes, even though in Nicaragua I didn't feel His Presence as much as I wanted, even though I didn't develop the relational depth I wanted with our hosts, even though I didn't see flashy regenerative miracles or hear the voice of the Father echo through the tiled floors of our hotel(s).  It didn't really matter, because there was something more there.

I struggle because in Nicaragua there was something beautiful: a communal singleness of mind.  We were focused on the Kingdom, and it changed everything.  Everything was deep, everything was significant.  Each morning we gathered to worship, expecting to be lead by the Spirit.  Which, I might say, takes a TON of stress off the worship leader.  Suddenly, you are not looked to for direction; everyone looks to the Spirit.  At most, I was the check to prevent the group from entering church-song-karaoke mode.

Example: one morning, four people woke up with the same song in their heads.  It's easy to lead worship when God is leading through the group.  If I didn't know the song, no worries.  We sang it anyway, and I hummed.  It was great.

Singlemindedness led to a two hour worship session on the side of the road after an overheated engine, a blown head gasket, and a flat (possible shot out) tire.  It led to the graceful reception of canceled reservations, to the stepping over of so many comfortably drawn lines, and to constant iPod worship on car rides.  I typically don't like group worship to recordings.  But, when all the hands are up in a bus revving through sewage on the way to a feeding program.....
... it may look and feel (smell?) like a roller coaster, but it's worship, in Spirit and truth, and so it's beautifully engaging.

Singlemindedness led to visions coming true.  Praying for our women before they went to bless some prostitutes, I got a picture of a field of yellow flowers and single bunch of grapes.  I didn't know what it meant, but I shared anyway (you don't have as great a risk of looking foolish when everyone is trying new things alongside you).  No one had any clear interpretation, so we moved on, and I forgot about it.  But when our women arrived at the meeting, they sat down in the gathering space and looked up.  There, out of place and alone, tacked to a cross beam, was a single bunch of plastic grapes.  Hanging in a big yellow room.

Singlemindedness meant praying for anyone and everyone with any kind of injury.  I don't do that here, when I see casts or wraps or winces.  I'm not sure we're supposed to.  But there, with the momentum of the group behind me, it was pretty obvious.  Even though we didn't see any crazy healings happen, we still tried over and over again, and that's huge.  And God touched people, left and right, through our prayers.


I felt the Lord most clearly in some of our group worship times, in prayer on the bus on the way to the prostitutes' rehabilitation home, and in spontaneous worship.  He met me most transformatively in conversations with Tripp, prayer with Pastor Oswaldo, sharing my testimony to several classrooms of highschool students, and in teaching 9 yr old Jose to take pictures with my camera.  By the by, Jose took the last five or so on my previous blog post (minus the very last shot).

Each of the above moments is worthy of paragraphs, if not books.  Such is life.  To write them all fully would fill every library in the world, and leave no room for imagination.  With your questions, ask away, but in my blog, I press on.

And french press on we will, soon, at Kudu.  And frankly, it just doesn't typically feel like I'm making a difference there.  Sure, some conversations drip with purpose.  But mostly, learning to serve in humility is hard work, soaked in glass cleaner, wrapped in towels.  It doesn't feel like Kingdom.  At least, not in the same way.

Lay aside, for the moment, that sometimes I still want to prove myself.  Lay aside my continuing fears of praying for people in front of other folks.  Lay aside the doubts that still surface when miracles don't happen as I expect/want them too.  I get frustrated.  As one friend of mine once prayed, Get me off the bench.  Let me play.

It's hard to see the intersection of Kingdom and Coffee.  Maybe in some ethereal, create jobs and disciple younger guys when you hire them kinda way.  Or in a fair trade, composting, creating communal third spaces kinda way.  But that's a vague intersection, somewhere in Greenville and my dreams.  It gets less concrete at the intersection of King and Vanderhorst.

Anyhow, I was explaining my feelings to my coworker tonight.  Actually, I was apologizing for my lack of motivation to serve.  It just didn't feel important, Kingdom bringing, difference making.  I stepped outside to straighten chairs, and while I did a guy and two girls walked in the shop.  Here's how the conversation went:

Guy & Gals: Hey, is the Christian employee here?
Coworker: Sorry, who?
G&G: You know, the guy who loves Jesus alot.
C: Oh, Drew? yeah he's outside.
G&G: Bandana?  Yep. (Noticing the leprechaun hat) I didn't realize Jesus celebrated St. Patty's Day...


Isn't that just amazing.  God knew I needed that.  Turns out, I am making an impact.  I am changing things.  I am bringing God glory, and showing people His love.*

Serving as a barista sometimes feels unfulfilling, even in a place as sweet as Kudu, with coworkers as ballin' as I have, with customers as interesting as I know.  It's hard to go from constant communal worship and prayer to doing it most days mostly by yourself.  But, it seems that the Kingdom is advancing here as well, as much as I sometimes wish I was called elsewhere.  It seems, wherever I am, the intersection between this world and that is present.  I am praying for the eyes to see it, and the heart to receive it.  And the boldness to act.




*Let it be known, many of the Kudu employees love Jesus as much and more than I do.  I respect many of them a lot, and seek guidance from them on many things.  That needs to be said- I am not the only 'one who loves Jesus alot'- far from it.  But, I appreciate it, as encouragement from God.