musings about how the gospel makes things new
We’re going to plant vegetables this year for the first time in a while. I decided to go with the square foot garden. The idea is for the entire garden to be a raised bed with a soil blend of 1/3 compost, 1/3 peat moss, and 1/3 vermiculite (the little white specks you see in potting soil). It’s very, very light soil and is supposed to be an ideal soil for root growth. We’ll see! I’ll post more pictures as the season goes on.
I realize I haven’t written anything here for months, and posting a Christmas song several weeks after Christmas is adding insult to injury, but I’m doing it anyway. Hope you like it.
I had to laugh as a guy just sauntered by the big glass window of the coffee show where I’m sitting, then about five minutes later walked back by, even slower, with a cup of coffee from the shop up the street. No shame. Pride in having a personal coffee preference. Like Usain Bolt, laughing the face of competition.
It’s officially Sunday morning (12:11am, to be exact), and for the first time in almost seven years, I will not be working this morning. I mean, I’ve had days off for vacation during that time, but only periodically. And always with the expectation that the next week I’d be back up front leading worship.
This past Sunday was my last at Christ Community. The reality of this transition hasn’t hit me yet– it’s still too close. I’ve spent some time this weekend trying to process everything, but didn’t have any major breakthroughs. I’m hoping that maybe during the time that I’ve been so busy on Sunday mornings for the past many years, the sky will open up and I’ll get some sort of revelation…some clarity and closure. That’s what happens on Sundays for normal people, right?
In all seriousness, I think the processing and clarity will only come in time. Guess that’s why it’s called process-ing. It doesn’t happen all at once. But, like everything else in my life, I want it to happen now. I’m ready for what’s coming. I’m already setting my sights on the next big thing. That’s my problem. One thing I’ve learned about myself over the past few years is how much I struggle to live in the present. To really be content (…I’d be happy with just content, not to mention joyful, grateful, etc.) with where life is at any given moment. It’s like I need something in the future to give me hope. When I was in high school, it was college. When I was in college, it was work. When Hannah and I started dating, it was marriage. Then graduation. Then working full-time. Then buying a house. You get the idea. I’m always banking on something that hasn’t yet come.
So here’s the thing. Even as I think through all of this, I realize that the desire for something in the future to give me hope is a natural thing. It’s in my soul to long for redemption…for full reversal of the fall…for things to be made new and right once and for all. That’s what I was made for. But when I start to think that a certain job situation, or relationship, or a new house, or whatever is going to make things right, I’m asking to be disappointed. Those things can be wonderful (and I get more of them than I deserve, for certain), but they can’t deliver the deep satisfaction and peace that I’m longing for.
I came across an old hymn a few weeks ago, written in 1875 by Clara Williams:
All my life long I had panted for a drink from some cold spring
that I hoped would quench the burning of the thirst I felt within.
Hallelujah! He has found me, the one my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies all my longings, through his blood I now am saved.
Well of water, ever springing. Bread of life, so rich and free.
Untold wealth that never faileth, my Redeemer is to me.
Hallelujah! He has found me, the one my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies all my longings, through his blood I now am saved.
Poor I was and sought for riches; something that would satisfy.
But the dust I gathered ’round me only mocked my soul’s sad cry.
Hallelujah! He has found me, the one my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies all my longings, through his blood I now am saved.
This sort of peace and rest is what I need– it’s what will give me space to process my time at Christ Community, and really live in the present in this new season of life. It reminds me of why I believed the Gospel in the first place. It really is good news.
Love this video…it’s so simple and beautiful. And a bit goofy, too.
Hannah & I saw this film a few weeks ago, and loved it. There is something special about it…the story, the actors, the soundtrack, I’m not sure. Probably all of the above. Afterwards I came across this review. I agree with Evie Coates (a great artist herself) that the themes of community and truly loving people and the healing of a soul are told in such a simple and beautiful way. You should read the review and check out Lars and the Real Girl next movie night.
My call in life (and my role at Hope Chapel) is unique. If that sounds narcissistic, hold on and let me explain. I am trained as a musician. I think I’m gifted and made to be an artist…someone who creates. It’s what makes me feel alive. But, unlike most artists, I feel convinced (at this point, at least), that I’m to live out that call in the context of the Church. It’s still not clear to me exactly what that looks like, but I’m excited to see how it plays out at Hope.
So one of the interesting things about this role is having a great concern for both the health and prosperity of the Church, and also of the culture. And so I’m often frustrated about how the Church interacts with culture, and I’ve spent a lot of time lately wrestling with this relationship. Scriptures teach that the Church is to guard doctrine, and to be “strangers” in the world. It also teaches that the Church should seek the peace and prosperity of the city. So which is it? Do we, like the separatists in England, remove ourselves from the culture (think ‘The Village’), or do we throw ourselves into it?
I think it’s clear that we should not literally remove ourselves from culture. The Scriptures are full of instruction to preach, care for the poor, etc. We obviously can’t do this if we have no contact with people who aren’t just like us. But how do we interact with these people? Too often the Church has been known as a people who defend their beliefs with arrogance, and a defensive posture. I think my issue in a broad sense is a desire not to be lumped in with those types of Christians. I want to come across to a skeptical person as one who has strong beliefs and convictions about doctrine and spiritual matters, but who is concerned not with proving someone else wrong, but with loving them and developing an ongoing conversation about spiritual things.
To those of us who believe in the sovereignty of God (the idea that God is in control of all things), this should ring particularly true. God is the one who calls people to himself. God has always used culture to bring about his plans. What are we so worried about? That it’s going to start spinning so far out of control that it’s beyond repair? Come on, that’s ridiculous.
Andy Crouch is a thinker/writer about culture and Christianity, and he says Christians should be a “counter culture for the common good”. I love that. We are part of a counter-culture…the Gospel is a radical “new society”…but it’s goal isn’t to “bring down” the rest of the culture, it’s to seek the good of people and bring about redemption. That’s what I long for churches to do (and for my life to look like)– instead of being defensive and condeming, loving people and living lives of kindness, gratefulness, and hope.
My grandfather (Pop-Pop) was born in July, 1911…that is almost 100 years ago. That’s the year the Model-T rolled out, and the year mail was first delivered by plane. Hannah and I were up in Virgina with my family helping with some yard work and cleanup at Pop-Pop and Grandmom’s house (which is on the same property as my aunt and uncle, and Pop-Pop worked with us, in the 90+ degree heat, for the entire day. As in, he was mowing knee-high grass, shoveling up piles of dirt, and clearing out poison ivy. It was ridiculous. This was a picture of us on a short break. I took the picture and he said, somewhat sarcastically, “that’s probably the last picture you’ll get of me”. Not if he keeps up at the rate he’s going…
and with my brother Tim:
