I'm a born explorer by motivational design.
I'm at my most free when heading out toward the new, and "going beyond." where I've been. I've taken risks most of my adult life and failed at many of them. Then again, I've been able to establish some worthwhile Kingdom enterprises. Even at this "starting-to-be-long-in-the-tooth" age of 62, (but way young at heart and alive in spirit, I might add), there remains in me an indwelling, persisting drive to start a new thing: to open a fresh door, begin from scratch, and launch out into a wisp of a dream which intrigues like crazy, and promises a slice of alive life. Creating is a way of being to me - a chronic impulse toward discovery and birthing.
But, I've been made aware of late of how much, and to what length trusting God (read seeing my limits), is required in exploring and creating this vision through imagine in Northampton. And it's a peculiar perch of trust he's showing me.
It goes something like this: Jesus beckons subliminally, but persistently, "Come on up here and walk out on this high branch with me." I've no idea how flimsy is the limb he's inviting me to. But I realize he's beckoning me to go right out to the tip of, what I'm sure, is feather-thin. It's gonna break. Fear-laced common sense indicates it's so. To even go out there at all, I have to trust because he's already there, he won't let it break or allow me to fall beyond repair.
To make matters worse, he says: "Stay here; live here; abide here; do imagine here."
What???
In other words, "learn to trust me here where it mostly trembles and vibrates; the branch groans from the stress of its constant bending (and appears to me only a micron from the calamitous breaking point), and leaves you vulnerable." Put another way, "Will you abide in the palpable uncertainty of following me into, the Kingdom mission I've given, no matter the cost, inconvenience, strain, even suffering?"
Big question. Essential question for all who seek the Kingdom, and God's summons to manifest it in the real world.
I don't know about you, but over the years, I've also given a substantial amount of unabashed loyalty to safety and security, especially the kind which yields the plenteous comforts of the American-style leisure culture. They are powerful addictors, but ultimately soul-smothering killers of fire-hearted trust and courageous Christ-following . Easy does it as a way of life is no life at all. But the idea of actually embracing a life of Kingdom risk-taking, camping out on a limb without a safety-net, and betting the farm on God's timely provision in the mission is an order too tall for many if not most of us.
In truth, learning to head out on a limb after Jesus yields rich spiritual bounty in the growth of a resilient and tenacious faith. The deep trust formed by exercising such vigorous faith gradually becomes quietly determined, especially in threatening vicissitudes peppered throughout life. aith and trust to this degree has been "kiln-fired" to a hardness shining and proving durable for the long haul.
Preferring to stay on the the limb with the Lord of Hosts is the happy result of being convinced this is the vaunted place called "life to the full" where the Kingdom action is, and where the most fruit for his glory can be yielded. On the other hand, settling for a comfortable Christian life of manageable religious routines and "the way it's always been," creates a kind of spiritual sleepwalking or living on autopilot: go to church, read your Bible and Christian books, listen to Christian music, attend a small group, put something in the plate, and volunteer, serve on a committee, and maybe even go on a Mission's trip. None of it bad, but where's the adversity, the "if you don't show up, Lord, it's all going down the tubes," reality, the "we're not giving up, Father, until you bless us with this family, this neighborhood, this city, these people, etc?
Just a glance at Jesus' life, the lives of his disciples, those who experienced Pentecost, the dispersion of the Church from Jerusalem, Paul's missional journeys, and the gradual spreading of the Gospel in Judea, Samaria and beyond reveals what daily life on the limb looks like. It is singled-hearted trust in the One who's called you to love God with all of you; love your neighbor (including the off-putting ones) as yourself, and as you are going, make disciples all the time.
I've found the more more we trust him, the further we'll head toward what and for whom God cares; not just with our free time, discretionary dollars and a little volunteering. Trusting him with everything precious to us and yielding our whole lives because of it, puts us out on the Kingdom limb where the power of God, and the faithfulness of God hold us up and keep us set to his tasks.
So, is your head down grinding out Monday's through Friday's so you really don't even notice the trees around you, especially the one where Jesus is perched on your limb and looking at you? Are you down on the ground staring up at him, and the limb he's calling you to? Are you half way up the trunk of the tree creeping toward the limb, standing on the notch, or actually abiding there, following him as he builds the Kingdom through you?
Which is it?
3 comments:
I can say that I'm up on a tree limb with Christ, and yet he points to a higher branch (which seems far out of reach to me) and says, "The view is much better from up there." Every part of my life has been touched by His open hand, asking me to give it up to Him. Area by area, physical, emotional, spiritual, mental...he comes to me asking if I'll let Him in. Now, physically weak, I am learning to trust in this area. It is tough, I have a ways to go and foresee having to learn this particular submission of myself again and again. What keeps me up in the tree? The past experience of His rewards of faithfulness....nothing sweeter in the world (peace, joy, love..on and on) and the joy of just being with Him in it all, the feeling of His love for me and for all, the excitement of seeing Him work to heal and restore. So far, I've found it worth all the suffering.
I couldn't have said it any better, Anonymous. Thanks you.
I couldn't have said it any better, Anonymous. Thank you.
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