free to be

Last Sunday night, we were asked, "what do you dream of when you dream about the church?"

No more complaining...or comparing battle wounds. No more hands clutched protectively over our hearts. No more lugging baggage around from church to church. What would we look like if we decided to stop taking inventory of our wounds and chose, instead, to be that difference? To love people the way you needed to be loved? To listen to someone's story the way you wish people would have heard your own?

We are people who are gifted differently. We are people who abide in Christ in many different ways--beautiful ways, hand crafted and individualized by the very One who gave us breath. Some of us praise Him with clay or canvas; some people sing and lift their hands; others worship Him in writing and word. Some people feel closest to God under a canopy of trees or on top of a mountain. Other's could spend hours alone-just Him and them; or seek out people/community to talk and pray and dream with.

So what is my dream for church?
I dream of sharing life with every kind of person--motivated not by an agenda, or a need to promote our church, or a desire to "fix" someone but motivated out of love. Love that changed my life and makes me want to seek Him & find Him in all of His people. That means peeling labels off; putting myself in places that I might not ordinarily frequent; rolling up my sleeves and meeting physical needs of people; having friends from all parts of the world. It means taking an initiative to listen to someone's story. It also means not forcing conversations about God. Talking about Him is good, necessary and powerful when it's genuine and authentic--when it truly overflows out of deep love & gratitude for Him. It is not helpful when my purpose for mentioning Him is rooted in a deficiency; a desire to give myself a self righteous pat on the back. People can tell where your heart is when you haven't even looked into their eyes and you're already 'preaching'. It turns people off--it becomes some of their baggage that they lug around.

Is it too much to believe the church can be all of these things? Services that utilize music and messages; art and dance; a quiet room to escape or a room full of people? Services lived out on the streets with people who would never dream of walking into a formal church service? Can I invite the man who lives on the street; or the person who might be in the throws of addictions? My neighbor who's a single mom? Can I love those whose sexual orientation is different than mine? Will they, too, feel that they have a place--not just within the walls of a building, but a true genuine community; will they understand just a fraction of God's deep and amazing love for them by the shred of love in us?

I've struggled at how to write about what's happening on Sunday nights. A conversation is taking form that is bigger than the small handful of us that gather together. But these are the things of which we dream. It's not about us--which might be part of the trouble I have when I sit down to write. I'm afraid I'll pollute the things we've talked about.
But I dream, because I too have a story-and I'd be nothing if not for the mercy and grace of Jesus. We want to truly love people the way He would have us love them. We desire to walk with people who might never darken the doorway of a church because we get it; we relate.


"judas betrayed you for thirty pieces of silver.
forgive me for all the times i've done it
for free.

yet you've chosen to call me friend.
help me to live like it.
i'm both captured and set free by
the mystery of your love." -Story