Into our Pasture

Today I bought a Christmas card. As I mentioned, I'm not sending out cards this year, but I am sending this one. It's not the kind of Christmas card I usually would pick. It looks like a child's drawing of a pasture. On the front it shows grass and sky and a big star in the center and one word. "God." When you open the card it shows the pasture scene again with a slight change. In the middle on the fence is a manger with a baby and a bunch of sheep surrounding it jumping for joy. The inside says "...moved into our pasture." "The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. John 1:14."

"God moved into our pasture."

Isn't that about right. That is what Christmas is about, Jesus moving into our pasture. Christmas wasn't a beautiful, clean and shiny act. The King of Heaven came not into a world of wealth, He wasn't born in a mansion or palace, He wasn't even born in His mother's own home. He wasn't born into a clean sterile, pleasant smelling environment surrounded by well-groomed, well-fed, well-educated people. Nope, not Him. He was born surrounded by weary, travel-worn parents and a bunch of farm animals. Donkeys, asses if you will. Cattle, barn-mice.

My friend Sarah posted this on her site and I'm borrowing it from her.

"It really sank in with the Christmas story. The idea that God, if there is a force of Love and Logic in the universe, that it would seek to explain itself is amazing enough. That it would seek to explain itself and describe itself by becoming a child born in straw poverty, in shit and straw... a child ... I just thought: 'Wow!' Just the poetry... Unknowable love, unknowable power, describes itself as the most vulnerable. I was just sitting there, and it's not that it hadn't struck me before, but tears came down my face, and I saw the genius of this, utter genius of picking a particular point in time and deciding to turn on this." Bono (H/t to Dave Carrol at Big Ear.

There it is, in simplicity. I left the s-word in there because it is true to the meaning.. He came to us, to our world in all of it's crassness, it's filthy stench. He came to our pasture. And thank God for that. Who cannot relate to someone who will walk in your shoes? To Someone who will wade through your crap, your mess with you? That is the condition of this world, even of our hearts without Jesus. Rank, filthy, crass and dark. But He isn't deterred by even the worst of it. He isn't put off by our stench or the muck lying around in our hearts. Nothing is too filthy, too disgusting, too messy for Him. He is our Shepherd King. He is at home in our pasture. He knows how to clean up our hearts and the disasters of our own making.

Sometimes I think people ask the wrong questions. We look around our world and we see all the evil and injustice. Wars, abuse, death, cruelty etc. We ask how could a loving God exist?We doubt His interest in us and our world, we ask where is He? But we aren't remembering. It wasn't God that created an imperfect world. His creation was declared good. It wasn't God that wanted His own way and went about snarling things up, creating chaos and disorder. No. It was our pasture first. He made it for us and we promptly took that gift used our own freewill and defecated it. Then we looked to God and blamed Him for it. And instead of throwing up His hands and turning away, He set about restoring that which we had destroyed and that which we still destroy.

He showed up in our pasture and made His dwelling with us. So the question we should ask is why should God be blamed for our own mess? The more important question is will we allow God to help us clean it up? Will we accept that our Shepherd King who could just sit around on His throne being worshipped all day by all of Heaven would rather walk around with us in a dirty world. Will we let Him?

God living in our pasture. I wonder if that is why the angels told the news first to shepherds in the field? Maybe they best understood what was being given. And maybe that is why the angels couldn't keep the news to themselves. They had to tell the good news and sing. "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, goodwill toward men."

He is with us, Emmanuel, in our world, in our hearts, in our homes, in our filth. He dwells among us, sheep and asses alike ; )

And this is peace, this is good news, this is our joy!

A Pagan Christmas?

I am familiar with the claim that Christmas began as a pagan holiday. A Roman celebration of Saturnalia. In fact, a pastor that I know personally does not celebrate Christmas for this reason. My parents grew up this way themselves. They came out of a church tradition that does not celebrate Christmas because of it's heathen origins. Of course, you wouldn't know that today by looking at them. My parents are the ones who helped cultivate my love of the holiday. So Christmas started out pagan. Don't you just love it?

I love it! Do you know why? The celebration of Christmas as a holy day when it originally started out as an unholy day is a picture of grace. It is the very picture of salvation. It shows that we have a God powerful enough to transform something that began as evil and sinful and sanctify it for His purpose. God took something profane and made it sacred. God took something that was in itself an act of rebellion against Him and redeemed it so that it instead became something that glorified Him. Where would we be if God was not capable or refused to use something that came out of sin? We would be lost. A whole world of sinners would be without hope. And yet He is not only capable of transforming evil He gets glory out of it. The "world" does this to that which God creates all the time. They take the sacred and profane it. They bring sin and evil into that which God has meant for good. But thank God that He is constantly in the process of redemption. He doesn't look at the mess we have made and say, "That's it, I'm done. Look what they have done to that which I have given them. Look at how they have screwed up my world." No, instead He sets about healing that which we have broken, loving those who are hurt and lost, redeeming what we willingly yet ignorantly have given up.

Think about it! Yes, Christmas can be celebrated in an unholy way, yes it has been commercialized. We live in a fallen imperfect world. But despite that it is a miraculous time. What other time of year do you hear music that speaks of Jesus, glorifying Him, describing the miraculous being played everywhere you go? Joy to the World is a mini-sermon being broadcast for Christians and heathens alike to hear.O Holy Night is the story of Christmas itself with the reverence due such a miracle infused in its' lyrics. I have said it before that Christmas music is my worship music. So what other time of year is all the world listening to worship music everywhere they go. What other time of year is the attention of the whole world focused on a day that celebrates God coming to earth, choosing to become one of us, a day that celebrates our Saviour? What other time of year promotes the kind of giving and thinking of others that Christmas does. I don't see Angel trees in the malls any other time of year. We give because of what He has given to us. What other time of the year promotes closeness in families like Christmas? Family is one of the foundations of a well-ordered, Godly life and Christmas is a time when we are particularly moved to be thankful for those whom God has given us. A holy Christmas is a reflection of God's love for us. A sacred Christmas is an act of thanks to the Giver of all good things, an act of thankfulness for all of His blessings. A Godly Christmas is an ideal time to show those who don't know Jesus, just how good, wonderful, generous and loving our God is to us. A joyful Christmas is a glimpse of what Heaven will be like. Don't we want those who don't know Jesus to see that and want that for themselves? And a pagan Christmas is a picture of the power of redemption and salvation. It is the whole point of why Jesus came in the first place. To close the gap between God and man. To restore that which was corrupted, to save that which was lost. Oh yes, Christmas! God's grace realized. God's presence restored to man. God's love manifested. Merry Christmas all!!!

The Outsiders

I was reading something the other day (so many of my light bulb moments come through something I'm reading.) Anyway, the gist of it was is that we need to confront our prejudices because we were/are all at one time foreigners from God's grace. The idea of being a foreigner stuck with me. God calls us sojourners far from home, foreigners in a land not our home. God began the nation of Israel by calling Abraham, a foreigner in the land of Ur and sent him on a wild journey with no given destination.

I thought of how when Jesus came He and the religious leaders of that time were at odds. From what I've learned the Jews of that time were under Roman rule and their idea of their Messiah was a leader who would deliver them from their heathen rulers. And yet, when He came Jesus didn't challenge the Romans, He didn't look like the Messiah they were expecting at all. Instead He challenged the religious rulers of the time. He was more concerned with heart, then circumstance. He came to save not only the Jews, but the Gentiles as well. Well, that was quite a shocking concept to a Jew. Because they kept themselves separate and considered themselves a chosen people and all of a sudden this Jesus guy is saying He's their Messiah, but they still had to obey Rome AND that he wasn't just their Savior, but also the Gentiles Savior? He came for His own and also for those outside.

I love this. I love the thought that Jesus loves outsiders and foreigners, orphans and widows without families. Those who are on the outside looking in. I love that He reaches out for the lonely and the weird. I have felt like all of those things at one point or another. It gives me comfort and strength to know that I don't have to be important or special. I can just imagine if Jesus were to have come in our day. What would He have done? Would we have overlooked Him because He didn't appear to be what we were expecting? Would He have been reaching out to the prostitutes and drug dealers on the streets? Would He have gathered with our nation's financial leaders who have managed to flush our economy down the tube? (Remember, He dined with the hated and despised tax collectors.) Would He have reached out to the outcast, alienated, just plain weird kids in our schools? What about illegal immigrants? How would He have responded to them? Would He have joined those who picketed abortion clinics and protested at gay events? How would He have reacted to our current Church leaders? Would He have said, "well done." Or would He have challenged them as He did the Pharisees in Jerusalem?

I really think God must have a special place in His heart for outsiders. Of course, Jesus was one Himself wasn't He? He didn't come like a local celebrity or national ruler. No, He defied expectation and came as an oddity. Don't you just love that God is not too big or too good to get down to our level? Even the level of the lowest of the low. None of us are outside the reach of the grace and love of Jesus.

Small Moments

I had another one of those "a-ha" moments while listening to Christmas music last week. I guarantee you I get the most and some of my best epiphanies while listening to Christmas music; one of the reasons I love it so much.

I was listening to my new Barlowgirl cd (love them!) and they were singing a song (it's actually on my page right now) they had written regarding the birth of Jesus from Mary's perspective. And it dawned on me. The birth of Jesus was a small moment. Of course, it wasn't a small moment from a historical perspective looking back thousands of years. I mean everyone knows the Christmas story whether they believe it or not. It's a pretty famous story. And it wasn't a small moment from Heaven's perspective. But think of it. That night a baby, Jesus, the son of God was born and who even knew it? The shepherds knew because the angels broke into cheerful rejoicing and the wisemen knew it because God sent them on a journey thanks to a star. But did they know at that moment what they were hearing and following? Probably not. The only people who could even guess at the significance were Mary and Joseph who were camped out with a bunch of animals. Two people on all of earth were the only ones aware of one of the most significant, amazing, world-changing events ever to happen. We know it now, but yet that night it was simply a small moment with no hint of recognition of what was to come.

I got to thinking. How many of us live small moments every day? How many of us despise those small moments? I don't know about you but I had great dreams growing up of changing the world and doing big, great, recognizable things. I think a lot of people feel the same way. Yet, most of us don't live big, obvious lives. We lead normal lives. And somehow we feel like our lives don't matter if we don't have those "big" moments. We feel insignificant. Thoreau once said (I think it was him) "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation." For how many of us does that desperation spring from wanting to make a difference and make our lives count? And yet, if the birth of Jesus can come about in a small moment, then think about how much the small moments in our lives can count! Holding the door for someone laden with packages, paying for a stranger's coffee, smiling at those whose path we cross throughout the day, a compliment, being there. Sometimes just being present is the smallest yet biggest thing we can do. I can tell you what others being present has done for me.

When I was in high school I was seriously depressed. I even had a couple of suicidal moments. I had a friend for just a short period of time who was present during those moments. If not for him being present and answering my phone call one night I might not be here. He never even knew either. I didn't tell him, but knowing I had one friend I could call made a difference. When Vinson and I lived in New Hampshire we had a good group of friends. If not for their support and encouragement during a really rough time for us, we might not be married today. We never really even talked about marriage, but their presence, their friendship made a difference. What if those living quietly desperate lives had someone who was simply present, who acted as a friend, or did a kind deed as a stranger?

I wonder what small moments that we live that we aren't even aware of turn out to make the big difference? I have been learning that daily life matters, how we live it, what we do with it etc. Many times those small moments make a greater difference than the big moments. Anyone can/could have a big moment, but small moments carry a great responsibility because they come out of how we live, not what we do in one big moment. Do we live with integrity, are we paying attention to the needs of those around us, are we looking for simple opportunities, how do we respond to criticism, cruelty, and opposition? Small moments come out of who we are. Small moments often go unrecognized by those who give them, but not by those who receive them. I have to remind myself that small moments, daily life, are what make my life matter, even if I never see the results. Someday when we get to Heaven and God shows us the full picture of our lives I think that most of us will be surprised to see that in those small moments we really made a big difference. So thanks to those of you who gave me some of your small moments and here is to all of us remembering that our lives, lived out daily in routine, in everyday tasks, are hugely significant and truly matter big.

A Convicted Murderer

I am convicted. I have been a murderer.

Let me preface this blog by saying what I share here is not a reflection on anyone or anything other than myself. I have been to some pretty dark and terrible places and most of the time I took myself there, sometimes by choice.

The other day I was listening to a cd about the power of words. The speaker was talking about our voices and what they actually transmit. It seems that someone has created the technology to map your voice. I won't get into the details, but it was pretty fascinating. Not only do our words carry power, but our voices do as well. The Bible has a LOT to say about words, it speaks of how we bless and curse our own lives with what comes out of our mouths. We have the power to choose and speak good or to destroy. It talks about the tongue being impossible to tame and many other things. I guess I ought to know because I've read/studied most of these verses. I've needed to with my big mouth. Do you know that verse in Psalms about hiding God's Word in your heart, so that we might not sin against God? Well, some piece of the Bible I had hidden in my heart came back to bite me....hard. I was sitting there listening to this cd about our voice and the power of words and all of a sudden I was reminded of the verse that says, when you hate your brother, you hold murder in your heart. (My paraphrase and don't ask me what verse that is from, b/c I'm drawing a blank)

Oh. My. God. That verse pinned me down like a worm on a fish hook. Those words alone convicted me. I was reminded of some things. Mainly, I thought about my husband. There was a time in the first years of our marriage, when I literally wished ill on him. Not out loud, but in my heart. I was so unhappy, miserable and had just plain given up. I hated my life and I hated being married. But I knew divorce was out of the question. So that left one other option. In order for me to not be married one of us needed to...cease to exist. Most days I didn't really care one way or another if it was me or him. But there were a couple of times when I dreamed up some pretty terrible accident scenarios. God forgive me.

But not only was I convicted for those dark places in my mind and heart where I literally held death, but I was also convicted for all the times when I chose curses with my tongue, when I destroyed instead of creating a safe place, when I spewed hate and anger instead of love and forgiveness, when I killed dreams instead of giving them wings. I murdered with my mouth. I sat there in my car and cried. I thought of all the times when I blamed my husband when in reality it was me all along who nurtured anger. I thought of the times when he shared his heart with me, his dreams for our life and all I could do was nail his feet down to solid earth instead of letting him fly. I thought of all those times when we argued about something and I lashed out at him with my tongue saying horrible hateful things. I thought about the death and destruction I brought on myself and my husband, who I love, and I mourned for the unknown losses I have caused. I thought long and hard about how different our life today might be if I had chosen to not only bite my tongue, but to choose to speak good things. I asked God to forgive me, I asked Him to heal the wounds and the damage I had/have caused, I asked Him to have mercy and to restore that which I had broken and destroyed with my own words. And we (God and I) didn't stop there. He also pointed out to me a couple of other specific situations and people that I had wreaked havoc on with my tongue. And I cried some more. But then He forgave me. And I asked God to help me choose life from now on.

Hello, my name is Brittaney and I was a convicted murderer, but now I am forgiven and I choose life

That to Which I Aspire

As I mentioned before I've been reading about Christian martyrs lately. It might sound a little strange, but I find it fascinating. Actually it has struck a chord deep within me. As I read these stories of those who have suffered all over the world in unthinkable ways, I almost want to say, "Me next, God". Don't get me wrong, the suffering part doesn't appeal to me but there is something so...incredible about each story that I want to be a part of. I want to be able to look evil and terror in the face as they did not only with peace, but also with joy. I would love, love to know my life has counted for something. It seems that you are never closer to Jesus then when you are suffering or when you encounter death. Suffering brings us closer to Him because He is with us. He never leaves us alone and I believe that He only holds us closer when we suffer and that He suffers with us, taking our pain upon Himself. Death puts us closest to God because it is the doorway to Heaven. The minute you leave this life you pass the boundary to the next. How wonderful.

Anyway, something about these stories inspires and challenges me but almost makes me yearn for the same opportunity. To love unreservedly. To praise God in dire circumstances. To be the face of Jesus to someone who hates everything I believe. To face death with joy. I decided to post some quotes, so maybe you can catch some of the power I've experienced in these stories.

Sufferings gladly borne for others convert more people than sermons -Therese of Lisieux

Jesus does not promise that when we bless our enemies and do good to them they will not despise us and persecute us. They certainly will.
But not even that can hurt us or overcome us, so long as we pray for them. For if we pray for them, we are taking their distress and poverty, guilt and perdition upon ourselves, and pleading to God for them.
Every insult they utter only serves to bind us more closely to God and them. Their persecution of us only serves to bring them nearer to reconciliation with God and to further the triumphs of love.
IT Is only when one sees the anger and wrath of God hanging like grim realities over the head of one's enemies that one can know something of what it means to love them and forgive them. -Dietrich Bonhoeffer

A Communist officer told a Christian he was beating, "I am almighty, as you suppose your God to be. I can kill you." The Christian answered, "The power is all on my side. I can love you while you torture me to death."

Two Chinese Christians were led to torture and death. One quoted Jesus' words, "It is finished," in a whisper. His brother answered, "No, that is not what Jesus said when He suffered. He said, "It is accomplished."

My dear Jesus, my Saviour, is so deeply written in my heart, that I feel confident, that if my heart were to be cut open and chopped to pieces, the name of Jesus would be found written on every piece. -Ignatius

Afraid
E.H. Hamilton

Afraid? Of what?
To feel the spirit's glad release?
To pass from pain to perfect peace,
The strife and strain of life to cease?
Afraid - of that?

Afraid? Of what?
Afraid to see the Savior's face
To hear His welcome, and to trace
The glory gleam from wounds of grace?
Afraid - of that?

Afraid? Of what?
A flash, a crash, a pierced heart;
darkness, light, O Heaven's art!
A wound of His a counterpart!
Afraid - of that?

Afraid? Of what?
To do by death what life could not -
Baptize with blood a stony plot,
Till souls shall blossom from the spot?
Afraid - of that?

I will close with a quote I've already used in another blog and I can't remember where I read it, but I think it sums it up.

"We love our enemies because we are fighting for them, not against them."

An Idol

I may as well admit it. I have an idol in my life. I won’t tell you what it is, because that is not the point. I believe an idol is anything you place above God in your life. This "thing" has become an idol to me because first of all I know it is wrong, it is something that goes against what I believe is right and second and more importantly because I am not ready to relinquish it. I know it is wrong, I am wrestling with God about it. I know I am in the wrong, but I don’t care. Well, I do care, but not enough. I do want to follow and serve God, but I don’t want to give this up, make the sacrifice of my wants. I know that eventually I must because I do not want to be separated from God. It always starts small. Idols and other temptations always begin small, we always believe it is something we can manage, something that won’t change us or affect us. But then we deceive ourselves. So right now, I am telling myself it’s no big deal, I can manage this. I won’t let it go any further that this small thing. I am lying to myself and I know it. I know also that it will separate me from God if I let it continue, because God cannot be in the presence of sin. And God will not share what is His. He is a jealous God, which is a good thing. He will not share me with something that I place in value above Him. So at some point I WILL have to let Him help me resist this particular temptation. I wonder if I will every truly have it rooted out of my heart or if like a recovering alcoholic I will constantly have to be on guard. This is a temptation I have dealt with before. And last time I chose God. The Bible says the pure in heart will see God and I truly want that. More than anything, except right now this other thing seems more real, more important to me. Which is strange because in my heart it is not more than He is to me, but my choices are proving otherwise. Hmm...what is that verse about serving two masters? I only want to serve One, and maybe I will...tomorrow.

Why?

There are a couple of why questions in life that everyone runs into sooner or later. One of these questions is, why am I here? I'm not even going to attempt to answer that one. I think the answer to that question is unique to each individual and since I still haven't figured out the answer for myself, I'm just going to leave it alone. Besides, not having the answer frustrates me. The other question most of us ask is why do bad things happen. Or more accurately, why does God allow bad things to happen? Whether we challenge the idea of God, doubt God or just wing it on blind faith, we all want to know why God doesn't keep bad things from happening. I ask this question myself. And even though I partially understand, the answer I have just brings up more questions, so I'm not going to share it with you. But believe me, I still wonder.

Why does a wife and mother die within months of her diagnosis of cancer, even though everyone she knows is praying for her healing?

Why are young innocent children terrorized and vicitmized everyday?

Why does my good friend struggle with Multiple Sclerosis. The last time I called her she wasn't even able to talk to me on the phone. One of her friends there had to try to relay what she thought my friend was saying. I cried.

Why do natural disasters occur and wipe out large portions of a population?

Why are there people who are neglected, ignored and feeling unloved, living all around us?

Why are there millions living in poverty and disease, unable to get basic economic help and medical care?

Why,why, why? These questions go on and on. I'm sure if we kept track, we could fill books full of questions.

But...here is what I do know.

Simply put, I trust God. I don't always understand why things happen the way the do or why the happen, but regardless, I believe that God is faithful. I believe that God loves us. So when I can't answer the question why, I believe God is working for good on my behalf.

Also, I believe God loves us. I believe it is His will to give us the best, to mold us into the best people we can be. Because He loves us, I believe that He is right there beside us grieving along with us at all the heartache, the pain, the chaos, the evil in the world. Why doesn't He fix it? Immediately? I don't know, but I know, that it grieves Him even more than it does us. I don't know, but I know, that it grieves Him even more than it does us. Because God is love, His capacity for love is beyond what we can measure, so his capacity to be hurt, to be wounded, to mourn is also beyond our capacity to do the same.

Here's another thing I know. Grace balances out sin. "Where sin abounds grace abounds much more." So for every time we ask why bad things happen, God goodness is at work. How do I know this? I know that there are many people I've prayed for or seen prayed for who were not healed the way they expected or who died. But I know my husband was healed of cancer. I know there are children who are abused and neglected, but I've personally experienced and even see other children who are raised in homes/environments where they are showered with love and praise. I know that natural disasters occur and that people live in poverty and disease, but I also have seen these things motivate others to give of their time, energy and resources in reaching out to make things better for those who have less. There is never as much good done or time, love and caring given as after a tragedy occurs or is discovered. And I know that even though the wife and mother I knew died, she finally came to know Jesus, something her family had been praying for her for many years. That in itself was a miracle in the midst of a heartbreak.

So when I want to ask why, I remember these things. Even though evil, pain and suffering are at work, God's mercy, love and goodness are also at work.

Fighting Church

I have surprising confessions to make. I did not go to church yesterday. And to be frankly honest I have never loved going to church, although I have been going my entire life. Growing up my family was in church pretty much every time the doors opened. My parents taught children's church, my dad was an "elder" and on the list goes. I might have enjoyed church as a child although I can't remember enjoying it, it was just expected. I remember going, and I remember people and events. But I can certainly tell you that by the time I hit my teenage years, I really disliked attending church. I can't really tell you why. And yet I continued to go, even on my own into my adult years and to this current day. Other than the year Vinson and I lived in Houston, I've never really enjoyed it. It's always been something I've done out of duty, or because I felt like I had to. I've heard every reason why one should attend church. But honestly, they are beoming less and less persuasive. For a while my church attendence was based on the saying, "if you feel like skipping church today, it is probably the day you most need to be there."

So yesterday, like any other Sunday, I woke up early, took a shower, put on my makeup and did my hair. Then I sat down at the kitchen table for my morning coffee and paper break. I was ready to go to church. But for some reason, something in me resisted it. And by saying resisted, I'm not just saying I didn't want to go, or didn't "feel" like going, but that it was something I strongly fought against and felt repelled by. Kind of the way I feel when it comes time to clean the bathrooms or wash windows, or anticipate the visit of someone I really dislike. Strong resistance. And for the first time, I listened to that feeling. I sat at home in my Sunday best and watched as the clock passed 10:30, then 11:00 then noon. And I felt....relief.

I asked Vinson a couple of weeks ago, "Does church seem relevant to you?" Because I think that is where my resistance is coming from. I'm tired of doing things just for the sake of doing them. I'm tired of going to church because that's what good little Christians do. Sad to say, I am finding church is having less and less relevance in my life. Which is strange in a way, because the more irrelevant I find church, the more relevant, not only relevant but vital I find God and my relationship with Him. I'm tired of going to church to hear a nice moral lesson and being asked to commit to umpteen groups and committees. I'm tired of leaving church at the end of the service and immediately being able to forget. I'm tired of religiousity. I'm tired of seeing the same members and even friends leaving service after service and then struggling through difficult situations and lives on their own and things never changing.

I want to go to church and be challenged. I don't want to hear a nice moral lesson, that I could get from a Dale Carnegie course or a self-help book on ebay. I want to hear/learn/experience things that make me uncomfortable, things that make me take a hard look at my beliefs and the motives and reasons behind them. I want to come away with my faith challenged, my perspective challenged and my view of God challenged. I don't want to volunteer in the nursery, or commit to a study group, and only ever having a surface relationship with people. (Although that responsibility partly falls on me to develop those relationships.) I don't want to go to church and see people that look like me and talk like me and believe like me. I want to see people from all walks of life, from the country, from the ghetto, from the streets and the whore houses (are those even around anymore?) all comfortable and feeling safe in God's house.

So here's the thing. Just like with many other Christian "beliefs", I think we've taken the idea of church and turned it into a tradition that has little meaning in our culture, little impact on our world and little resemblance to what God intended. I'm not a theology major, so I may just be ignorant, but when I read my Bible, I don't see a structure or organization that resembles today's church. I don't see where services were at specifically set times, and I don't see a single pastor as the only leader. I don't see where people were kept busy doing "church" stuff. I'm not saying any of that is wrong, I'm just saying maybe we need to reconsider what church is. In fact, when I read Acts, it sounds to me like the early church looked and operated more like a hippie commune, (without the sex and drugs of course), where everything was shared jointly and people lived and worked together as a whole. The other thing, is that the Bible calls us the church. It doesn't call a building, or an organizational structure, or anything else, the church. We, the people, are the church. So maybe church doesn't necessarily mean services, tithes, small groups and bible studies, Harvest Fests substituted for Halloween. We, living our everyday, normal, sometimes humdrum lives are the church to those we come into contact with.

You know what my church would look like? It would look like love. Relationships would be more important than things, meetings, fundraisers and positions. It would be a place where everyone was welcome, regardless of who they are. Not only would they be welcome, but they would be made to feel loved and accepted. The church would be a safe harbor and anyone who was struggling, would look at it as such. The few people who actually do volunteer wouldn't feel pressured to lead and participate in even more activities. Family time would be valued and encouraged even at the sake of sacrificing time to the church. And families wouldn't just be defined as parents and children, but those without families would feel part of the church family. The power of change would be present and active. So people wouldn't just participate in church but their lives never improve. I think Love is the most powerful agent of change in the world. What would it look like if everyone loved their neighbor? Not just the one living next door, but the one sharing a world with us. My church missionaries wouldn't always go to far off places as Africa, India, and the Phillipines. In fact, my definition of a missionary would include those who simply reach out to those around them. Not to convert them, but to offer a smile or a compliment, a helping hand, springing for someone else's cup of coffee, being a shoulder to cry on, just being there, present, ready and willing to help.
I don't know, maybe I've got it all wrong, but what I envisioned above seems a lot more relevant and meaningful to me right now, than the definition of church that I've lived with my entire life.