Learning to send or Being sent to learn?

Our typical pattern in churches for years has been:

1. Come together to learn about Jesus
2. Go into the field to share about Jesus with others

Gather, then scatter. Learn, then share. Repeat. 

The "go" could be around the world or across the street, into the inner city or at the kids' soccer game. That's what being "sent" means - learn then go. There's usually an iterative process here of learning and going, but the general flow puts the learning here and the going there (and, by the way, you'll do some learning there, too).

This is not a bad pattern at all - I'm not going to criticize it, and in fact it is very appropriate in many contexts. Jesus certainly employed this with His disciples.

But I was struck with a different model, recently. Instead of going into in order to share what I've learned about Jesus, what if I went into in order to learn as much about Jesus as I can in that place? For example, rather than going into my neighborhood to tell my neighbors all the cool stuff I've learned about Jesus, instead I go into my neighborhood with the intent of learning about Jesus while dwelling there among my neighbors.

The premise: Jesus is already at work in my neighborhood (or whichever place we want to talk about). He's already there, He already reigns over all things, and He's already involved in the lives of my neighbors, whether they acknowledge Him or not. Rather than the arrogance of already knowing that they need to know about Jesus and being so gracious as to let them know some of it, this is a posture of humility - I have much to learn about Jesus, and in particular, I have a lot to learn about Him from and through my neighbors. There are ways of knowing Jesus that I can only learn in my neighborhood. So, I can endeavor to learn about Jesus by doing life with my neighbors (or coworkers or fellow soccer parents), to get to know Jesus in far more intimate ways by trusting Him and expecting to discover Him in my neighborhood. Jesus is already there and there's much to learn about Him there. I just need to really be there in order to discover it. "Here I am - send me ... in order to find out even more about Jesus."

The theory: By doing the things we consider to be "missional" (building authentic, unconditional relationships, praying consistently for our neighbors, sharing meals with them, serving them, sharing with them), we are doing the very things that will end up revealing great things about Jesus. And not just to me ... to my neighbors, too. I can study in a classroom about trusting Jesus and learn a lot, or I can dare to trust Jesus in my neighborhood and really learn about trusting Him. I can study about prayer and then go practice it, or I can commit to practice it on behalf of my neighbors and then learn about it by how our relationships change and by how opportunities open up. I can read biographies about people who walked by faith and endeavor to emulate them, or I can walk by faith in my neighborhood and discover Jesus that way. I can get to know Jesus better by discovering how He's already at work in others.

There's a treasure of knowing Jesus in my neighborhood and in my workplace and in the stands at the soccer field! Am I willing to explore in order to find it?

Then I become far more eager to "do that missional stuff." If I try by my determination to be missional because I should, I won't last long. If I realize that living missionally is how I will most learn about Jesus, then I become eager to dwell in my neighborhood with my neighbors. I don't have to remind myself to pray for them - I become eager to pray for them because I'm going to learn about Jesus this way.

Learning-to-send is not a bad model, and we should continue to employ this idea. But I think we should do a whole lot more of the Being-sent-to-learn model. We are sent (John 20:21). We are told to "Go!" (Matt 28:19). If it is in being sent that I will learn most about Jesus, I'm eager to go.

Out of my depth

What fell?

When Adam and Eve, and thereby the entire human race, sinned against God and "fell," what exactly fell? How extensive is the Fall? In answering this question, I'm going to go a little out of my depth, but that never stopped me before.

We know that our volition fell. Our ability to choose fell. We are inescapably consigned to want sinful things, to choose sinful things, to never be pure in our motives and actions. This is what we typically blame in others (and sometimes ourselves). In our judgmental moods, we critique people for their choices. A homeless substance abuser asks for money, and we think, "If you hadn't made all those bad choices, you wouldn't be in this predicament. " What else could God hold people accountable for but their choices?

Our relationships also fell. Most obvious, our relationship with God fell - kicked out from His presence. It was severely damaged, but not irreparably destroyed. It is the most tragic loss - to be estranged from your Creator. Furthermore, our relationships with each other fell. When God told Adam and Eve what life was going to be like going forward, He described that tension and conflict would plague us.

We also fell spiritually - we became spiritually dead, needing to be reborn.

But I step out of my depth when I consider that we also fell developmentally. I haven't studied human development science, especially child development. Some of you have. What little I understand is that we go through developmental stages, and if a stage is not properly experienced, then there are predictable dysfunctions that are likely to occur later in life. These dysfunctions may involve little to no choice on the part of the person. We fell developmentally, too.

But here's the problem: we can't blame people for things they have no choice over, can we? More importantly, God can't blame a person for that, can He? Such a person doesn't need to be saved from things that aren't his fault, does he?

Part of our difficulty is equating the Fall with blameworthiness. We tend toward thinking salvation is only for the things we're directly at fault for. Our difficulty is that we think Jesus died only for our sinful choices.

We are fallen. Every part about us is fallen. So, every part about us needs to be saved - including the stuff we have little to no choice over. Grace is that extensive. Our need for Christ is bigger than just our bad choices. We are so fallen that just fixing our choices won't make us unfallen. We absolutely cannot save ourselves. The Cross of Christ is that complete. We are that dependent on a Savior, because we even need saving from things we can't control. We are all out of our depth.

I don't need to fixate on someone else's bad choices. He or she is fallen in every way and needs salvation in every way. The last thing people need is for me to give them the false idea that all they need to do is make better choices.

Step this way to see what life was like in 2015...

In AD 79 in Italy, Mt. Vesuvius erupted. Ash and burning rock rained down on Pompeii, creating a popular modern tourist destination, putting daily life as it was nearly 2000 years ago on display for gawkers to see just before heading to the gift shop to buy a souvenir.

Further west was another town at the foot of Vesuvius, the coastal town of Ercolano ("Herculaneum" in English), also destroyed when Vesuvius blew her top. As excavators were uncovering Ercolano, they discovered that although Ercolano is a much smaller find than Pompeii, it is far superior in its preservation, capturing even more clues of daily life than Pompeii. Pompeii was pummeled with fiery ordnance, burning much of the city as it was buried. On the other hand, Ercolano was spared the brimstone, but was blanketed with a think layer of volcanic mud, burying the city by several stories. Less than half of the original city has been excavated, because modern apartments and shops rest atop the covering, high above the original city.

During excavation, there was something missing. Details of daily life had been instantly preserved for the centuries, except for one thing ... people. The excavators kept digging and uncovering and collecting great artifacts, but no people. Until they got to the ancient coastline (the modern coastline is much further out). There, they found most of the town's citizens. It appears that they saw the danger racing down the volcano toward them, so they fled to their fishing boats to row out to safety. However, the tide was at that moment flowing in, trapping the panicked crowds, only to preserve them in an eerie snapshot of disaster.

The mud covering kept most of the town sealed through the ages only to be revealed in near pristine condition, including these three dimensional ghosts. One family was captured in what appears to be an unwary, casual afternoon at home.

Vesuvius last erupted in 1944, and today you can drive up most of the way, walk the rest, and peer down in. It smells of sulfur and is still venting smoke.

The artifacts are fascinating, and to me, especially the every day items. But all of them together reveal what was important to the citizens of Ercolano, and in many cases, the social status of those who owned those items. The town obviously prioritized fishing, but also recreation - Ercolano drew a lot of out-of-towners. Jewelry survived well, and was quite popular. But Ercolano was also a naughty town - scads of evidence of prostitution, both straight and gay. Softcore porn was publicly displayed. There was lots of sex and alcohol, like a year-round Spring Break at Corpus Christi.

But also there were families and workers and productive life. Those were also important to some.

In other words, not much has changed.

Of course, we have to assume a lot - we can only see what survived, and some things did burn or deteriorate. We can merely wonder what average things went on during an average day of people unaware that they would instantly become museum pieces one day.

Freeze your home in time at a random moment. Imagine it suddenly covered with stories of mud to be uncovered in the year 4000, granting throngs of visiting gawkers a picture of normal life in 2015. What would your "artifacts" tell them about your priorities, values, and habits?

Everything I own is a future artifact, potentially. What I own doesn't really capture my personality, it doesn't define my status, and it doesn't give my life meaning. Out of context, it may even give the wrong impression of who I am. So, what if I treated my possessions for what they really are - artifacts? Mere curiosities that future generations of passing tourists look at and wonder, just before they go to the gift shop to get a soda and a souvenir.

Waiting

We've just started a short series on the topic of "waiting on the Lord." If you ask around, I think you'll find that very few people have a sure definition of what that really means, and even fewer who have a favorable reaction to the whole idea. Any time we open up a topic like this, we are sure to touch on some nerves and open up some wounds. It is not my intent to aggravate a sore spot, but we must talk about this because Scripture tells us it's something that ought to be a part of following Christ.

We first have to talk about the ideas and ideals. There are applicable universal truths (e.g., God is faithful). But we also must talk about our lives that don't mesh up with the ideals. If we don't, then we risk rendering moot the whole concept of waiting on the Lord. If we don't address the messy reality, then people will doubt the ideals, and then we've gone nowhere with something that is designed to take us toward good places.

This next Sunday, we will open up the reality of when waiting on the Lord doesn't have a tidy ending. We need to come together in this to encourage one another, because it's likely to poke at some sore spots. But it's crucial! We need to be together to talk about this.

Until then, let me relate a simple story of waiting. It was not a waiting I intended or did happily - I'm not the good guy in this story. It does not have a tidy ending - in fact, it doesn't have an ending at all, yet.

"Dave" is a friend I've had my whole life - same grade school, same Jr. high (yes, before "middle school"), and same high school. He wasn't my best friend, but we hung out in the same groups. Different colleges and careers, but we maintained our friendship off and on throughout the decades. Then Dave made a series of choices and got involved in some things that threatened his health, marriage, family, and livelihood. I actually saw some early signs of it, but explained it away, because "Dave would never do that."

Eventually, Dave's choices caught up with him, and most of his life came tumbling down. He hurt a lot of people, including the group of friends we were a part of. Some of the damage will never be repaired.

What I wanted to do is to give Dave advice. I wanted to smack him around for his bad choices, to tell him what he did wrong, and to tell him how to start fixing it all right away. But at that time at Grace, we were exploring the value of listening and praying before forcing the "right answers" onto people. I really wanted to speak - I was mad, and I had "right" on my side! Through the encouragement of a few of you good folks, I decided to listen and pray and say nothing.

It was horrible! I felt useless. I felt like I was wasting time. I felt like all this knowledge I had was going unused. I felt like I had power at my disposal in the form of Truth and Grace, but was benched. Nothing was changing in Dave's life ... for months. There were wide open opportunities to say what I normally would say in those situations, but I offered "nothing" to my friend. I felt stupid, weak, ineffective, lazy. Do you notice where my focus was? On me! How I felt! I wanted to do something so that I would feel better about myself! I didn't want to wait, not because of my friend, but because he made my life less comfortable. Some friend I am.

But the Lord clearly wanted me to wait on Him. I couldn't deny that's what He wanted, no matter what excuse I threw His way. So waiting is what I did, along with prayer. Impatiently, unwillingly, resentfully I waited.

Dave and I talked, emailed, and texted off and on, but not about this. You could tell he was expecting me to say something even though I said nothing. I hated that. Then months later, Dave and I had a chance to have dinner at one of my favorite places in Westport. We ate and talked about nothing important for an hour.

And then Dave finally offered to me what he was going through. He knew he had messed up. He knew he had hurt people. He hurt, too. He knew that some of the damage he had caused was irreparable ... unfixable. Amazingly, in that moment, all I wanted to do was listen. I finally had that open door to say what I've been wanting to say for a long time, and now, all I wanted to do is listen. I offered no advice. I criticized nothing. I didn't even affirm anything ... because as soon as I did, I would become an evaluator, a judge. I didn't want to be a judge, not even one that only notes what is positive. To be a listener, I had to be neutral about the bad and the good. I like to give "attaboys" to encourage good actions, but bit my tongue, listened, and prayed.

There still is no resolution, and for some things, there never will be. But Dave and I can talk, now, about pretty much everything. And Dave is making positive steps to repair what he can.

It wasn't me. It wasn't Dave. It was God. God moved in Dave's heart. God moved in my heart to make me a better listener than the horrible listener I often am. God also moved through His ways ... as we follow His ways, His ways generate His results (eventually). Waiting on the Lord, even for over a year, has been far better than doing things my way.

I hate waiting. And I really hate it when waiting works out better than impatience.

(Out of respect for "Dave," I've obscured the details.)