The Sun Shines Brightly

Moving around this morning, my last morning at this house, I heard the Today Show in the background as I was whipping up a childhood favorite of mine, Cream of Wheat. The craving for the familiarity of a childhood taste was ironically compounded by a segment on the production of another Broadway run of Annie. For those who don't know, my middle school years were lonely ones, ones in which I would take my Annie record to the basement, belt out Annie tunes, and long for a Daddy Warbucks to sweep into my life and love me.

As we begin to embark on a journey to distant lands, I am nervous and hopeful. I am looking forward to the journey that lies ahead, but mourning the chapter of my life that is over. Following Jesus is joyful but not easy. Too often, we reduce Jesus into what Michael Frost and Alan Hirsch call a "big ball of Daddy love." When I read this in ReJesus: A Wild Messiah for a Missional Church, I laughed out loud. Then, I said, "Yeah, that's absolutely correct." Then, I felt a little sad because it is so nice to get really comfortable with the thought of a big ball of Daddy love. He is not saying, and I am not suggesting that this is not an aspect of the Godhead. Usually it is a necessary starting point for healing into knowledge of the Trinity, and in this book's case, the person of Jesus. Nevertheless, we often get stuck in the power of that love and fail to effectively carry on the message of the Gospel.

Last night, I had a flying dream. I have had many flying dreams before and even nice controlled enjoyable flying dreams. In this one, however, I stepped into an elevator (almost glass elevator Willy Wonka-esque) as it popped into the sky and disappeared. I was flying in the sky with a new kind of elevator--it was an invisible ball surrounding me but not like some big plastic hamster ball. This was a living breathing membrane that took me places as I flew high over the ocean. I could bring people in and out of the "membrane ball" and help take them to their destination. However, I still was not quite sure of my (physical) destination. Yet, I knew that I was protected. But trusting it involved risk.

I have been doing some spiritual exercises of Ignatius Loyola in the past months, and my scripture meditation the other day was Mark 10:28-31.

Peter said to him, "We have left everything to follow you!"
"I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brother or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields-and with them persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first."

See, we often like to gloss over the difficult words, and we talk about the blessings we will receive by following Jesus. (and we do) Yet, I find the words "and with them persecutions" to be so like that crazy radical Jesus we follow. He really makes us consider what it means to count the cost of being his disciple. And I accept, joyfully. But that is why this chapter of my life closing includes some mourning...because he does change everything for the advancement of the kingdom. Being in the "membrane" of the Holy Spirit or putting on your Jesus "reflector shield" (as I like to pray with the kids for protection) doesn't mean that we get to (just) safely sit inside of His love. It means that we are called to extend it to others and prayerfully help others battle issues of the world, the flesh and the demonic. (and part of our battle here is to acknowledge that all of these areas exist!) The paradox is that this love is extended from our knowledge of abiding in him and not from a task oriented mentality that says, "I must do this and I must do that!"

And so I sit here quietly this morning with my big ball of Daddy love, prepared to go whereever He wants us. And unlike little orphan Annie, I don't have to wait for the sun to come up tomorrow. It is already shining brightly.