Sorry for the long hiatus!  I guess anyone who looks at this site is used to the lapses, though I do have a good excuse this time.  After 5 months, we have finally moved into our own home.  Many, many thanks to my parents who took us in (all six of us!) and never made us feel like we were intruding.

I'm going to jump ahead in time from the previous post and my childhood church experiences.  Things got much more "conventional" for us as church goers in my preteen and teenage years.  I went to Bible college after high school and started trying to figured out what I was "called to do."  That was a regular thing to hear around my school - "called."  It seemed like everyone already knew what he was called to do.  Not long after you would meet someone, he would tell you, "I'm called to be a missionary."  Or, "I'm called to be an evangelist."  Honest to God, there were girls that would say, "I'm called to be a pastor's wife."  We said those girls were just enrolled to get their "M-R-S" degree.

My "calling" seemed to be everything and nothing all at once.  At first I had the idea that I would start out being a youth pastor and eventually be an associate pastor and then maybe a senior pastor when my hair started to get gray around the edges and my college pants didn't fit anymore.  I had a great friend and mentor break me of that way of thinking early on though.  He didn't look at ministry as a "career path" in that way.  He had no interest in being a youth pastor unless he felt actual passion for teenagers (what an amazing idea!).  Altar services became my route to discovering my calling.  During my freshman year, I answered the altar call no matter what it was for!  If we had a missionary from India speak in chapel and ask for people to come down front who felt called to India, I would rush down there.  I'd be balling my eyes out and crying out to God, "Yes, Lord - send me to India."  Then the next day, we'd have a guy talking about his ministry to inner city Philadelphia.  Same thing - he gives an altar call - I come running down front with tears streaming down my face.

Eventually I realized that I couldn't possibly be "called" to all these different places at once.  I came with such a limited idea of ministry service.  I had my own home church as a pattern for how stuff works but not much else.  In college, I was hearing all these other ways that God was using people as ambassadors of his kingdom.  My heart was being broken with the pain of other people.  After I'd hear the stories of India's orphans or the wreckage of urban wastelands in my own country, I would immediately want to help.  "How can I not do something about this!"  I would always think.

The worst thing that ever happened to me, in terms of learning to sense a calling, was to get desensitized to those stories of brokenness and pain.  Even a Bible college freshman can't keep up that zeal and fervor forever, I guess.  I got used to hearing how bad other people had it started thinking more about myself.  I'm not saying that I actually should have gone to India, or that I "missed God" by not doing more inner city work.  My heart should have never left that fragile spot with the Holy Spirit.  He had me right where he wanted me.  But I missed the lesson because I stopped believing that those tears and that willingness was doing me any good.

Calling is not about what you are going to do for God.  I'm sorry.  It just isn't.  Calling isn't about you.  It's about the pain of others.  When Ephesians 4 says, "Walk worthy of the calling wherewith you were called," it is saying: Be responsible for the burdens of the people around you.  Read the rest of chapter 4.  That's what it's all about.  That's where ministry comes from.  I like the way Galatians 6 states it.  "Bear the burdens of other people and you will be fulfilling the law of Jesus Christ."

I think I'm just now getting to know some of what it means to have a calling.

Despite his own charismatic experiences and beliefs, my dad was never into the charis-maniac church I described in part 2.  We didn't stay there all that long.  Leaving church may have had the greatest spiritual impact on my life, now that I look back on it.

As a quick side note to this story, I think the Lord is encouraging people to become "self-feeders" in these days.  I'm not suggesting that people need to just leave their churches, but I don't think the church should be relied upon as the "feeding place."  If it is, something needs to change.  We learned as a family what it meant to self-feed during those years.  I know my parents will say that they were not as diligent as they "should have been."  But the memories of the things we did without any church leadership or inspiration stand out to me more than almost every other religious meeting I was part of.

I remember a few times of family communion.  We had grape juice in Styrofoam cups and Saltines.  I can remember listening intently to my dad praying.  My mom always cried, which made me feel like this whole thing was very real indeed.  Why else would she be so affected?  We never used a devotional book that I can remember.  My dad would just read from the Bible or sometimes tell us a story about something the Lord told him in the past.  The most memorable thing to me was that although I was about 10 or 11 years old, my parents would often ask if I or one of my brothers had "heard anything from the Lord" while we were praying.  Us.  The kids.  I got to hear my brothers talking about the things they thought God was speaking to them.  Do you know what that does to a kid to get the encouragement of his parents to hear directly from God and the support His brothers to boldly speak it out?

This is what I mean by being a self-feeder.  Hear from God on your own.  Spend time with Him expecting to be His sheep and hear His voice.  And then share the things He whispers in your ear with the other people in your life.

We didn't do this every week.  It wasn't "church at home;" it didn't happen on Sundays.  I can't recall any specific pattern to these times of intimacy and fellowship.  They happened when they happened, and they occurred as a piece of our real life together.  Eventually we found another church to be a part of, but my faith and my attendance at religious meetings had been forever dislodged from one another.  They were no longer the same thing.  Some people wait a lifetime for that to happen. 

To some people it never does happen.

My next church experience was certainly of the charismatic persuasion.  There was plenty of the "wild stuff," and I remember being a little shocked by it at first - even though so much of the charismatic experience was already pretty normal for me.  One time, my brothers and I brought some friends to see a special guest.  A lady in front of us started gettin' jiggy with it and my friend Shawn's eyes almost fell out of his head.  He'd definitely never seen anything like that before.  It might have been his first time in church of any kind.

Once again, the people that I knew at that church were absolutely sincere and authentic in what they did (as far as I ever knew).  What bothers me as I look back on it is the showmanship that came from the platform.  You never knew what you were going to see from one week to the next.  A particularly memorable one was when the entire stage was transformed into a boxing ring and the pastor came out in boxing shorts, boots and gloves.  If that sounds cool in any sense, you're picturing it wrong.  Think of a pastey-white, Donald Trump-looking guy bouncing around on stage.  Not good.

But here's something interesting about that church and that phase of my own spiritual development:

I experienced what I look back on as a "call to ministry" during one of the more ordinary sermons at that church.  I distinctly recall looking up on stage and thinking, "That's what I'm going to do for the rest of my life."  Clearly God used that place to plant something within me.  Even then, I didn't have any desire to be the showman I was seeing every week.  It was something else.  I just started noticing things when I was at that church.

I remember an old lady that we sat near most weeks.  She had one arm that was pinched up tight to her body and sort of twisted and very little use to her, I'm sure.  Every time I saw her, I would pray for her healing.  The whole showboat altar call thing that usually happened bothered me, even though as a kid I couldn't put a finger on why.  My prayers for this lady were always along the lines of, "Lord heal her all by yourself and don't let anyone know that I was praying for her."  Because I believed (believe) those prayers so heartily, this might be the first time I've ever mentioned this.

Even way back then, I was starving for something authentic.  I wanted to see God do something because he was God!  Not because the guy with the microphone "commanded it."

Don't you think most of the people in "those" churches are like me?  They believe with all their heart that God's power is real.  He does heal.  He does perform signs, wonders and miracles.  And if you want to be in a church that believes those things too, well there's an awful lot of other stuff that seems to go with it.  I can't do "either / or" any longer.  I'm not going to put up with the pomp and the puff, but I'm also not going to give up on the miraculous.

That's not what all of this story is going to be about, but that is the first part anyway.

Having recently been inspired by a friend who writes on his site much more diligently than I do, I'm going to write about my story out of conventional church and into whatever it is we're doing now.  This is something I would never ordinarily do.  My inner voice would say, "No one wants to read about that, you self-focused so and so," but my friend had people chomping at the bit for the next installment of his story.  It is entirely possible that this guy is just far more interesting than me, and my version will totally flop.  But just in case it really can speak to someone, here goes:

I'm not sure if my parents will agree with this or not, but I think my childhood church experiences have significantly shaped where I am now.  We didn't make any efforts to be "unconventional" (that I know of), but I think that's what we were.  My earliest church memory is being part of a church plant.  Just us and a few other families gathering in a home.  I remember prayer meetings and Bible studies and laying on the floor and drawing pictures while the preacher (I called him "Pastor Billity") was doing his thing.  For a long time, there was no children's ministry.  There was just me and my brothers and the pastor's 4 kids having a grand ole time while the adults did church.

Eventually that church plant got a building of their own and we started getting organized.  To this day, I'm not sure why we left that church - or if it just closed - or what, but when I was about 8 years old, something life-changing occurred.  There was an altar call for people who wanted to get "filled with the Spirit."  My mom asked me if I wanted to go down to be prayed for.  "What is it?"  I asked.  "It's a gift from God," is all I can remember her telling me.  What 8 year old doesn't like to get gifts?  I went.

Pastor Billity came by and prayed for me (don't remember at all what he said) and then leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Did you get it?"  Well, of course I did - you prayed didn't you!  I nodded my head that I did.  "Do you want to do it into the microphone?" He asked.  I swear that I had no idea what he was talking about.  I didn't know what I was supposed to do, but one thing I did know for sure - I absolutely did want to do it into the microphone!

He pulled off his lapel mic and pointed it toward me.  As God is my witness, I opened my mouth to talk and an entirely new language came pouring out.  It's not like something "happened" to me that I was not able to control.  It wasn't "possession," but it was definitely not just me making stuff up either.  I know today that the Holy Spirit was empowering me and "giving me utterance" similar to the way He did it to followers of Jesus throughout the book of Acts. 

When I "did it" into the microphone, the church just blew up.  I remember people shouting and throwing their hands up.  The band kicked in and I recall being part of a train of people celebrating around the perimeter of the sanctuary.  It was an entirely "charismatic" experience - the kind of thing I would roll my eyes at and change the channel on if I happened upon it today.

But why would I?

I have not a single doubt about the authenticity of my "charismatic experience."  The gift of that prayer language I received that day never faded, but actually took root and branched out.  It was the anchor that held my faith together during my teenage years.  So why do I bristle inside when I see "that stuff" going on today?  Why do I instantly question the sincerity and authenticity of so many charismatic experiences (even if I never doubt the sincerity of those people engaged in it)?

Did something change?  I'm sure that something did change.  But that change will be part 2 of the story.

To be continued...

The following article is my submission as the brand new editor of the Next-Wave ezine.  "Humbling" does not begin to describe my feelings about this opportunity to serve as editor.  I know the story behind Next-Wave because my dear friend and mentor, Charlie Wear, told me all about it.  I know that Charlie has been plowing this field long before anyone was using words like "emerging" and "missional."  His passion for whatever God is doing to gather a generation disenchanted by church and religious culture to his kingdom is something that I am continuously inspired by.

Charlie is one of the only people that really "gets me" when I talk about what I'm hearing from the Spirit and how I'm trying to follow his lead.  In the mission that my wife and I are on right now, laying the foundation for what might be a church in Northwest Indiana, it's Charlie's counsel that I seek.  Mostly because I know he's going to force me back to the Lord.  "Listen to God.  He'll talk to you," he says.

To me, that's what Next-Wave is about.  That's what comes out through so many different voices, every month.  I catch a whisper from the voice of the Spirit with every issue.  This is my goal as editor - to continue to listen to God and let him do all the talking through Next-Wave.

Church as I have known it (American, cultural Christianity) is no longer serving God's purpose of intimacy and relationship.  So that's why the conversation that goes on here is so important.  It may have been ordained and sanctioned by God and maybe it was serving His purpose at one time.  I do not believe it has the ability to go on serving Him in the future.  The next wave or "new wine" that He is bringing into the fold of His kingdom needs a new wineskin. 

In Isaiah Chapter 1, God speaks through that prophet to condemn the religious practices of the Jews of that day.  What suddenly occurred to me while reading the chapter is that God was not dealing with idol worship.  He was talking about the religious system inherited from Moses.  The system he once allowed had lost all of its original meaning. 

They were going through all the correct motions but it was not serving the purpose of drawing them into relationship with him.  The challenge was to surrender their notions of serving God and accept the "new thing" he was trying to give birth to within them.  God seems to force this type of confrontation in several places throughout Scripture.  Another encounter I think of is found in Mark 6, when Jesus sends his followers away in the boat while he stays on land to pray.  The gospel makes a special point of telling us that the storm blew up when they were "in the middle" of the sea.  They were too far to turn back and not far enough for the safety of shore on the other side.  In this journey out of conventional church, I've often felt out in the middle with nothing to grab onto at either side.  It's pretty scary even when I remember it was Jesus who told me to take this trip in the first place.

Jesus does something wild and dramatic to come to the aid of his friends.  He walks on the waves and then quiets the storm with his presence in the boat.  I think he's ready to do these things again.  I think he is glad that we've gotten ourselves out here in the middle, with no more props to cling to and no more comfortable "normal" to soothe ourselves with.  I thinks he's on the water now and heading toward people all over the world who have followed his call into rough seas.

© Andrzej Dro?d?a | Dreamstime.com

 
So how can we go about building this new wineskin idea of service and worship?  God gives us some great direction in Isaiah chapter 1:


Think about your intimacy and relationship with God in these terms.  If all the props of church were removed, would there be anything left?  Have you had that encounter yet?  Are you too far from shore to turn back, but not close enough to the other side to be certain that you'll make it?

What if He did away with the praise and worship band and all the external stimulants?  Would you still find ways to worship?  What if there were no more children's programs or church ministries to kids?  Would you still find ways to lead your children (or any children) to be disciples of Jesus?  If God eliminated all the missions programs and "outreach" initiatives, would you still find ways for the Gospel to be advanced through your life?  If there was no more church to receive your tithe, would you still be a fountain of giving and generosity?

What if God really is finished with our systems of service and worship, like He was expressing in the days of Isaiah?  What if His soul hates them (Isaiah 1:14)?  Are we ready to leave it behind and find other ways to serve His purpose of intimacy and relationship?  Again, I see direction coming from Isaiah the prophet:


That is the mission and all these centuries later, it still needs doing.

I'm thrilled to be part of this Next-Wave community.  I love the risks that are taken here and the passion that is expressed here.  Next-Wave People really wear it on their sleeve.  You can feel it in the comments and emotions ebbs through each article.  But I'm most excited just to be included somewhere in the story that our Lord is writing.