This Hopeful Journey

Why would we take time out of our lives, six Wednesday nights, to enter this room in order to pursue a journey for the development of our spiritual lives?  To dive headlong into words of a Judean carpenter in a search for God?

We make this journey because we are in the midst of a search, a search for hope.

We hope that there is more to religious life than religion; more to Jesus than the lovely way he is often portrayed by artists who would rather that he looked like they did rather than how he really was.  We hope that the pursuit of a spiritual life will have impact in every area of our existence; that drawing closer to God will make life less overbearing and more bearable, that we might find meaning instead of madness, that our search of God will end well and that God will be as least as good as we have imagined.

We make the journey because we hope this story is true.  And that it has more gravitas for life than any other story we might hear, or than anyone or anything in which we might place our trust.

We hope for this because most of us, one time or another, have wondered if it could all be just some kind of cosmic charade or galactic game in which we would simply search the stars in vain for an omniscient, omnipotent anchor for our reality.  Perhaps, it formed in you as simply a nagging ache, a pestering rock in your spiritual shoe, that begged you to remove your shoe and give up the hopeful journey all together.  Or perhaps there was no living deity in your life, only a two-dimensional "flat" Jesus who was unable to reach beyond the flannel board and move into the real world.  It may have been anger or disappointment that caused a fog to enshroud your path, making travel next to impossible.

Whatever your misgivings, you've remained on this journey.  So here you are. You listen.  And you sing.  And together, you and I and the person next you, we hope, that God would search for us, too.  For surely, if this entire journey is an effort to uncover a God who prefers to remain unknown,  we are on a quest for something that will ultimately disappoint and leave us wanting and unsatisfied.

We hope for a God who searches the edges of that foggy trail, who checks the bushes and hillsides for us, knowing that we can be distracted and detoured with ease.
 
We hope that this searching Jesus is not "flat" but has three dimensions, and that one of those dimensions is the depth that can reach into our lives and claim us with his love.  That this searching Jesus can take our past hurts and our disappointments, the frailties, failings, and imperfections that have helped to define our journey, and redeem them with perfect love and acceptance.
This is the Jesus we are hoping for, and this is the Jesus who is here.
Jesus comes into your life with a promise to make all things new, to rebuild your life's brokenness, to love you with a never-failing love.  Jesus makes you this promise: he will search for you until he finds you, no matter where you wander, he will carry you home and he will rejoice because you are his forever.

This is our hopeful journey. 

In Luke 15, Jesus told them this parable: ‘Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbours, saying to them, “Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.”

Well-Played

I used to coach soccer, and when I was coaching, one of my favorite expressions was "well played."  Well played meant that my player had not only done a good job but that his play had some kind of elegance or beauty to it, as much as a sixteen-year-old male is capable of elegance. 

The other night Karen and I were at an Eagles' hockey game.  In front of us was a mom, dad, and two elementary-school-age girls.  The younger of the two couldn't wait for the whistle to blow so that she could get up and dance to the music blasting through the speakers in the arena.  During one break she coaxed her dad to stand and join her sister and her in a rowdy, cowboy-inspired dance.  He reluctantly began to dance with his girls, to their absolute delight.  When they finished, I leaned forward and said to him, "Well played, dad."

Noted author Leonard Sweet has picked up the phrase in his book, The Well-Played Life.  Sweet has authored over 50 books and 200 articles, and has been called "One of the 50 most influential Christians in America."

Christians have completely misunderstood how God has called us to live,  he says.  We have become obsessed with working for God, as though Jesus had said "Come to me all you who labor and are weary and I will give you more work!"  He asks "Why are we trying so hard at working so hard when we were created to play and enjoy our relationships with God, each other, and creation?

Sweet says, "The Protestant work ethic has not made us better disciples, only weary and cranky human beings strutting in vain to snag the unattainable..."  and he suggests that what we need is to work harder for God, but to rediscover how to play with God.  Living a well-played life, says Sweet, "means experiencing the fullness of joy that comes from being in deep with the divine, cleaving close to the covenant, living in sync with the Spirit, and yoked to Christ to the point of surrendered trust in God's providences and promises."  ...If faith isn't fun, we're working for God, rather than playing with God.

Play involves creativity, in fact play is "the oxygen for the imagination."  You don't work a piano. You play a piano.  Godplay, as Sweet calls it, reframes how we understand our relationship with God and our dependence on him.  He says "Playing with God is the ultimate act of faith in God's promises and hope in God's providences to bring about a dynamic present and an even better future."

I have been fortunate to be awarded a Lilly grant for my upcoming sabbatical.  The question Lilly asks is an amazing one--"What will make your heart sing?"--and I guess they liked my answer.  One of the blessings of this adventure is that I will spend a couple of days in the San Juan Islands of Washington state, and have the opportunity to visit with Len Sweet at his cottage.  It strikes me that Lilly's question and Sweet's "Godplay" have a great deal in common.  Lilly asks pastors to rest and rejuvenate during their sabbaticals by doing things that will make their "hearts sing."  Planning a month of study at your alma mater probably won't get much excitement from the "Approval Team," but fishing in the Galapagos just might, and in my case motorcycling through the Alps met with their endorsement.  "Rejuvenate" means to make young or new again, and Sweet says the promise of the gospel is that "in our walk through life we can keep growing new."

Can you imagine what your life would be like, playing in God's garden?  Running on God's pitch?  Dancing to God's music? 

If you can, then you are imagining your life well-played.

Doing Something Positive for Lent

True, I've advocated adding good things for Lent, not giving things up. 
Here's a modest proposal under the category of Do Something Positive for Lent, if you just have to give up something for the season.
Two things to give up...
Name-calling.
Complaining.
There's still a month before Easter. How would life be different if you didn't call anyone else a name or complain without doing something to make things better?  What would happen if you took your leave from the name-callers and complainers in your life?  (If you say there'd be no one left to talk to, then perhaps some reflection is in order).