Psalm 119.18, Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of your law. 

Reading the Bible takes an interaction between reader and author. When I say author, I really mean two authors, the original pen to papyrus man (or woman) with all the details, contexts, and realities of the day, and the other author, God. Just as He created the universe itself, through His words and the employ of the Holy Spirit, so God stands as a great editor or superintendent over the creation of Scripture, guiding a writer within the boundaries of culture, language, genre, and history, releasing the Holy Spirit to inspire and direct, and in some moments, prophetically transcend the milieu of the writer’s world to create something both contemporary and eternal.

In our reading of Scripture, certain realities can be universally understood. Some people, at some time, thought the world to be created by a transcendent God, who ordered the universe. They thought the beauty of this world stained by human error. They thought people lived a long time. They thought this God had a Son sent to cleanse the stain. They thought miracles could happen.

Whether one agrees with the authors or not, this is what they thought.

Each of us needs a moment with the second Author to go beyond understanding the Scripture to experiencing it. I understand (for the most part) the plot and fictional universe of Tolkien’s Middle Earth. But to experience it, I needed to read his commentary and his letters on the issues and details. Hearing his heart behind the work, the work moves from all its richness and Technicolor to HD Digital Christie projectors. By encountering the author, I experience the work.

Which is why Jesus is important. Jesus is the way to knowing God. My pursuit, then, is not of Scripture, but of Jesus. The verse from the Psalm above is a prayer, a letter or email to the Author, asking to be shown all the things that brought the story together. Whether believer or skeptic, I invite you to consider what reading the Bible could be like if you focused your attempt on knowing the Author. 

Psalm 119.8 – I will keep your statutes; do not utterly forsake me.

If God’s greatest mission is to find us (Genesis 3.9), then is the ultimate antithesis of that mission His forsaking of us?

Old Testament authors, particularly in the Psalms, seem genuinely fearful of “being forsaken” To them, the greatest dread was not to be punished or afflicted but God, for those were temporary and restorative actions. They saw the chastisement that God inflicted as a Father correcting a child, with the hope of growth, transformation, and redemption.

But rejection leads only to isolation. The fear that comes with forsaking, being abandoned by God to navigate the universe alone, chilled them to the bone.

David begged God not cast him away from His presence, to not take the Holy Spirit from him. Samson’s greatest folly was not realizing God’s presence had left him. Jesus, invoking the prophetic lyrics of David, asked God why, of all things, was he being forsaken.

This extends into many areas of life and religion. The danger of living outside a spiritual community is evident. Correction and rebuke can change us, but isolation and rejection condemns us. It causes questions about eternity, and the nature of everlasting punishment.

Have you ever been hopelessly alone? Not the afternoon with no kids in the house alone, or the walking to Coffee Ethic by yourself alone, but truly alone, with no real indication that you’ll ever be found.

It’s nice to know that Christ said, “Listen, I am always with you.” (Matthew 28.20) Alone is a choice, isolation is not inevitable.

Ever been alone? Ever felt isolated or rejected by God? What does the reconciliation of Jesus mean to you? 

Today’s office. (Taken with Instagram)

I’m not preaching today, but if I was, here’s something I might want to share.

I have recently moved to Springfield, MO, the Queen City of the Ozarks. Because of this radical shift in my life, I reveled in the privilege of packing and unpacking boxes. Working as Sisyphus in Hades, I fruitlessly unpacked one box, placing all its items into their approximate locale, and thinking I was finished, discovered yet another box to relieve of its contents. Like Kirk and the Tribbles, or Billy Peltzer and the Gremlins, they kept multiplying.

When you move, you tend to lose things. The truth is nothing is ever lost; it’s right where someone or something put it. Physics teaches us that matter or energy is neither created nor destroyed. Everything’s still here. So that other sock didn’t disappear. It’s somewhere, just not here. It’s more appropriate to think of things as undiscovered, waiting to be brought into the marvelous light. I think it’s the same with God. We’re not lost, and neither is He. We simply remain undiscovered, or rather; He is waiting for us to discover Him.

Look at what Paul says in Romans 10.5-21. Paul wants his readers to know that living by law (self-righteousness) is inferior to living by faith (God-righteousness). But as he makes this argument, he drops a tiny hint to our undiscovery when he quotes Deuteronomy 30.14, “The word is near you, in your heart and in your mouth.” Paul is fighting against the racial, religious, and class distinctions of his day by demonstrating that salvation comes not from race or self-righteous and slavish obedience, but from the discovery of a singular truth. That truth? “Jesus is Lord..and God has raised Him from the dead.” (10.9)

Because salvation is rooted in this authentic confession rather than heritage or performance, the distinctions that defined Paul’s world no longer held power. Jew or Greek? It doesn’t matter, Paul writes, because “same Lord is Lord of all,” and “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord (understood as Jesus) will be saved.” (10.12-13) Will be. No qualifiers, no prerequisites, only guarantees. Anyone who wants in, gets in.

But someone has to tell them. And if they need to hear, someone has to go. (10.14-15) Go to people that religion or culture or economics or education or racism or sexism or bigotry or prejudice won’t let hear. That’s the reason for missionaries, for radicals, for church planters, for The Community Church.We are saved (liberated from the impossibility of self-salvation) because we confess to a revealed truth about Jesus Christ, and people must be given the option to trust that truth.

But the dirty secret? We all know. We all know there’s more to the universe; that we’re lacking in something. The dirtier secret? People that admit there’s more to know are closer to God than people who have all the answers. Listen to Paul echo Isaiah, “I have been found by those who did not seek me; I have shown myself to those who did not ask for me.” (10.20) We are all discovered by God; and for many, He’s just around the corner.

I’m not preaching today, but if I was, it might have been like that.

The Community Church is here, and people are clamoring outside my house begging for hope and salvation.

That’s not true.

One relationship, one meal, one “What do I do now?” conversation. That’s how it starts. That’s how it grows. That’s how it changes the whole freaking world.

mentalflossr:

Everyone remembers where they were when they heard Pluto was no longer a planet. This video explains what led modern astronomers to that decision.

credit to @lensweet to start this thought: Can a church be a place for people to practice faith? Is it a place for people to get better at faith? How do we guide people to get good at faith while allowing for failure and experimentation?

From a @lensweet lecture. In a world where virtual becomes real, touch defines us. The resistance we feel when we touch or shake hands, that’s what lets us know someone is real. Maybe we can know our real friends by those who are willing to resist us. Lack of resistance could be a sign of lack of relationship.