I’ve grown to enjoy the day when we celebrate another year in the history of our nation.  I like walking down to the park, listening to the music, watching the multitude of flags flying from car hoods and childrens’ hats and marching bands.  I like watching my kids run around while the band plays our national anthem.

I especially love the giant flag cake.

It’s a big deal when the cake arrives.  It arrives on its own special car, at the end of a parade of old-fashioned cars, and is big enough to feed several hundred patriots.
There’s something special about celebrating the place where you live.  It’s a small portion of a day where one can proudly say “this place is a good place to live. And for that, I’m thankful.”  This is what we call patriotism.

Patriotism: The academic edition

In our current reality, patriotism has become closely intertwined with images of battle, conflict, and supporting our troops.  Being a patriot conjures up images of flags waving in the background, with immaculately-trained troops going to battle against an invisible enemy.   I can admit it, I’m a war aficionado.

Given the choice of learning about history, or the history of warfare, I’d default to the latter.  I enjoy learning about the weaponry and the political maneuverings of warring states.  I’ve even spent time in Israel studying the details of modern and historical warfare.  Not that I’m a gun nut (or even remotely so), but the details of history are fascinating to me.

Call me a war geek.

It’s not my fault, really.  As a young child of about eight, my brother and I discovered my grandfather’s naval uniform in a trunk, tucked away in the basement of his house.  Inside this trunk were things we had never seen in real life.  A naval uniform, complete with a hat, sat neatly folded in the bottom of the trunk.  A few bullets, the size we had never seen, had been collected.  There were newspaper clippings of men in uniform standing aboard a ship, saluting perfectly.

It was as if we had stumbled across a family treasure.  What had my grandfather done while in this very uniform?  What lands had it seen?  What sort of battles had it been a witness to?  How had my grandfather felt while he was wearing this uniform?

It wasn’t until later in life that I rediscovered this passion for history.  In university, I was forced to take a class called The Violent Century: a Look at Historical Warfare.  I begrudgingly sat for three hours as a professor ranted about the details of modern combat between nations.  However, as the semester wore on, there was a growing problem.

I was hooked.

The brilliance of my professor was found in his recounting of the historical record.  It wasn’t about dates.  It wasn’t about accomplishments.  It was about the humanity behind the history. What were soldiers thinking when they first donned their gas masks and engaged the enemy?  What kind of emotions took hold when a fellow soldier was killed by an invisible sniper?  How did it feel to live in the trenches of the Second World War?  Even more recently, how does our country engage in conflict and how does it affect the family life of soldiers?

My experience with guns and conflict and war have been limited to two venues: an exercise in academics and through the lens of CNN.  I am limited to the snapshots of war – another soldier killed, a military exercise over there, a soldier returning home.

Patriotism: The human edition

I recently had the experience of encountering a soldier in full uniform.  On the news that night, I had seen that one battalion had returned home after serving on a tour in Afghanistan.  Immediately, I wanted to approach him and thank him for what he had done for my country.  I mean, when we’re talking about patriotism, these people are on the front lines of the definition.

Being a patriot is literally defined as one who loves and defends his or her country. Regardless of your opinions on the current wars raging across our world, there are men and women, fellow human beings, fighting in the wars that we watch on our television screens.

I walked past the soldier.

Either out of embarrassment or timidity, I didn’t say anything.  I’m not sure I would know what to say, except a stumbling “thank you.”  This has been the extent of my experience in patriotism.  And yet the news has brought to me an entirely new perspective on patriotism and war.  Recently, on a few major news sites, there have been a regular occurrence of men and women returning home from the war.  Soldiers returning to their families.

The best images have come from inside classrooms.  Dads and Moms, dressed in fatigues, surprising their young children by coming home early.  Inevitably, the child breaks down in tears, runs to Mommy or Daddy, and weeps uncontrollably into the uniform of their country.

Well, color me patriot.

Strip away the flag-waving politicians and the loud military music and our nation is about people.  It’s people with families and friends, individuals who have chosen to serve in a way that our country calls them to.  Dads who have daughters and sons waiting at home — daughters with bright futures and sons with developing potential.  Mothers who have the invaluable gift of nurturing and loving.

If becoming a patriot is to love one’s country, despite its flaws and mistakes, then by extension, it means loving the people that are part of that country. And, despite the fact that some of those citizens cut me off on my way to work this morning, there is something great about being able to celebrate our nationality together.  It is wonderful to be free to let our kids run around while our national anthem plays.  It is a gift to lay in a park, listening to music play from a community band, to enjoy the celebration of another year in our nation.  It’s incredible to be able to wave our flag and think about the blessed life that we are able to take part in, to say ‘thank you’ to those soldiers in uniform that pass us on the street.

And, of course, to eat flag cake.

Related reading:
Military Lives – The amazing life stories of patriots who fight for their country
Confronting Giants – An online interactive life study on finding strength to face life’s challenges

[Jesus] called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Change is necessary, and change is good! It was the main message of President Obama’s election campaign. “Change we can believe in” and “Yes we can” were two of the slogans seen on signs everywhere. For many people the exact nature of the change didn’t mater; anything seemed better than keeping the status quo. What is new is good.

C. S. Lewis, in his pseudo-autobiography Surpised by Joy, coined a term for this sort of thinking — “chronological snobbery”. This fallacious way of thinking says that everything new is good and what is old is outdated, ignoble, and less preferable to the new and exciting ways. I think partially this is due to the rapid pace of technological advances, where new almost always equals better. But the same isn’t true for many other areas of our lives.

To be God’s agent of change, we must often eschew what is new and exciting, and return instead to what is ancient and sacrosanct. The apostle Paul told us “Now, brothers and sisters, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken your stand. By this gospel you are saved, if you hold firmly to the word I preached to you. Otherwise, you have believed in vain.” (1 Corinthians 15:1-2, TNIV) The change that we often need to make is, as Jesus said, to become as innocent and trusting as little children, as we return to God’s ways and providence instead of the way of the world and dependence on material things.

Often such changes begin with a tiny step of faith in the right direction. In his article Step, Shaun Smith explores the meaning of real change versus mere optimism. If you have been contemplating or actively pursuing godly changes in your life, check out the article (written for a non-Christian audience), and let us know about your successes and struggles in the comments here on this blog.

If you would like to talk to someone who is a patient listener and can walk along with you as you strive in God’s power towards holiness and godly change, contact an online mentor today to talk via email!

He is unaware of my presence. His eyes are closed, the patterned quilt above him faintly rising and falling. The small clock radio at his bedside blares an old country station, but the silence is overwhelming. Grandchildren innocently look out from photographs haphazardly arranged on the desk. A wooden frame holds a younger, stronger version of the man laying in the bed.

He is contentedly unaware of this. And so I sit in a corner of his room, waiting for the possibility that he’ll wake up and need someone.

Here I am. For the possibility.

I am in a long term facility where my grandfather lives out his last few days. He sleeps much of the day, and the doctors haven’t given him much time to live. It could be tomorrow, it could be next week. But it will be soon. And here in these slow-moving days, as silence is interrupted only by footsteps in the hall, I get to thinking: “Could the world be a better place?”

Stuck between free hugs and a hard place

We all want the world around us to change for the better. Sometimes our desire for change comes close to breaking our hearts. We see brokenness in our world and we cry out for change. We see babies dying, teenagers losing hope, injustice and unfairness. We desperately want change. The problem is, we don’t know where to begin.

When it comes to changing the world there is an ongoing skirmish in the dusty desert of my soul. I have lived in the camp of the Eternal Optimist, where the days are filled with sunshine and passionate movements. They preach “Change!” from the rooftops, and generally talk to you as though the world can change in this moment. They lead the conversation, full of life and vigor and the pursuit of change in the midst of a difficult and busy world.

If they’re really passionate, the words spill out of them like an ocean tide on too much caffeine. The change is sweeping, all-encompassing and it will happen right now. The world can be better, will be better and is going to be better because of you and me. It comes across like a late-night infomercial, the seller is loud and the product is cheap. But don’t worry, just embrace it and follow, right?

I recently came across three Eternal Optimists while shopping at the mall. They were dressed in dark clothing (for irony, I think), and they carried a sign that proclaimed, “FREE HUGS!” In my fascination, I watched as they walked past people, around people. Each time, there were no hugs, free or otherwise. In fact, there was a general avoidance of the dark-clothed happy people offering their poisonous free hugs. As a bystander, I found it both sadly ironic and darkly funny.

Learning to step

The problem with change is that it’s impossible to measure. When change is called for we want sweeping changes, dramatic changes that will alter the course of history. We don’t like our government, we elect a new one. When we want change in our health, we buy a workout program, or a gym membership.  We start working toward that new goal with all of our efforts. We like the sweeping dramatic results. Anything less seems, well, not enough.

My four year old daughter appreciates change better than I do. One afternoon, after picking her up at pre-school, I asked how her day went. She looked at me, and then her face brightened and her grin spread across her face and she proclaimed, “Daddy, I got invited to A BIRTHDAY PARTY!” The change in her was enormous. Our family has moved around a lot so she hasn’t had much opportunity to make friends.  Here she was, at the end of her day, beaming from the kindness of one of her friends asking her if she wanted to come to his birthday party. A small step of kindness – an enormous impact on my daughter. This is something beautiful.

Stepping out

And so here I sit, an agent of change. I think that perhaps change is less about history and headlines and more about each day’s countless opportunities to step out in kindness. It’s less on our own desire to create change and more about realizing that change can happen right in front of us. I sit, while my grandfather lives out his last days, unaware if I am his grandson, or a doctor, or an old fishing buddy from years ago.

But then grandpa shifts in his bed. The blanket falls to the floor and he’s cold. I can see his discomfort, how he moves his legs in the attempt to warm himself. I get up, step toward the bed, and move the blankets just enough to cover his legs.

I step.

I make change.  And the world changes with me.

Upcoming online chats: Join us for daily online chats! One of our features will be “How do you determine whether and where to give your resources to help others?” on March 26 at 12:15 pm EST. Please join us to discuss how to take a step and make a change!

A couple of weeks ago I was right in the middle of downtown Vancouver

On a usual day, people downtown don’t try to touch you, but on this day there were open smiles and invitations.  People wanted to connect, to celebrate together.  So I walked down the street slapping hands with people I will never meet again. It struck me how easy it is to connect when we’re willing.  How often we hold ourselves back from that.

Holding back

The desire to hold back is very common.  I think we do it to protect ourselves, to keep from getting hurt.  We’ve convinced ourselves that we shouldn’t want that connection.  But the idea of separateness is a very modern one.  Not so long ago living communally was vital for survival.

Just last month my brother was in India and had the pleasure of participating in a community lunch.  Dozens of people were up on the roof all preparing food together.  Men and women, young and old, they chopped vegetables and called out to their neighbors.  Dave was struck by the joy in they had in making dinner, a task we often see as a chore.

So much is possible when we work together, but so often our instinct is not to get involved.  I wondered if it’s simply a part of our North American thinking, but I read article recently that challenged that.

In his article “Stand By” Shaun Smith asks “What if I decide to make a difference and it doesn’t make any difference at all?”  I think this is the real reason that so often, we back away.  What if I make the effort and am rejected? What if I spend resources and nothing changes? The problem is, this question screams at us so loudly we miss the other question lingering in its shadow “what if I become familiar with doing nothing at all.”

Take a minute to read Shaun’s article, you won’t be disappointed.  Do you find it easy to reach out to others?

A couple of weeks ago I was right in the middle of downtown Vancouver

On a usual day, people downtown don’t try to touch you, but on this day there were open smiles and invitations.  People wanted to connect, to celebrate together.  So I walked down the street slapping hands with people I will never meet again. It struck me how easy it is to connect when we’re willing.  How often we hold ourselves back from that.

Holding back

The desire to hold back is very common.  I think we do it to protect ourselves, to keep from getting hurt.  Even in church it’s not always easy to say hi to the new person or to invite a family you don’t know over for lunch.  We’ve convinced ourselves that we shouldn’t want that connection.  But the idea of separateness is a very modern one.  Not so long ago living communally was vital for survival.

Just last month my brother was in India and had the pleasure of participating in a community lunch.  Dozens of people were up on the roof all preparing food together.  Men and women, young and old, they chopped vegetables and called out to their neighbors.  Dave was struck by the joy in they had in making dinner, a task we often see as a chore.

The church was always intended to work together as a body, a community. So much is possible when we work together, but so often our instinct is not to get involved.  We worry that we’re not skilled enough.  We worry that we’ll get locked into a commitment.  I wondered if it’s simply a part of our North American thinking, but I read article recently that challenged that.

In his article “Stand By” Shaun Smith asks “What if I decide to make a difference and it doesn’t make any difference at all?”  I think this is the real reason that so often, we back away.  What if I make the effort and am rejected? What if I spend resources and nothing changes? The problem is, this question screams at us so loudly we miss the other question lingering in its shadow “what if I become familiar with doing nothing at all.”

The other day someone reminded me “Don’t say their no for them”.  It’s easy to think that someone will say no before I even ask and talk myself out of taking the risk.  But God may be at work in ways I don’t know about and my little question could be just the opening they are looking for.

Take a minute to read Shaun’s article, you won’t be disappointed.  Do you find it easy to reach out to others? Have you ever caught yourself saying someone’s “no” for them?

Powerlessness. Futility.

These are two words that devour my soul. What could I have done differently?  It makes me feel as though I am a bystander. I’m not in the moment, I’m watching someone else’s moment. I try to get involved, try to encourage the weak, try to make a difference. But moments still slip past, people still stumble and I feel like a bystander.

The call to be a difference-maker

A struggle I have with the concept of change stems from my early Christian experience.  One morning a well-meaning pastor preached “You could cure cancer, and it still wouldn’t be enough.” He was highlighting the difference that Jesus makes. Jesus turns me from darkness into light – a 180 degree turn in my final destiny. In one sense, I suppose that’s true. That’s a big difference.  But what about change now?

Where is the call to be a difference maker? Does making a difference in Haiti have an impact? Does engaging my neighbor, thanking my bus driver, owning up to the hurt I cause when I live selfishly make a difference? Jesus calls me, and us, to great things. In John 14:12, he says, “anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these.”

Does this mean that I am not living up to my Christian faith when I’m not healing people, saving people, and bringing people back from the dead? Is this a call to greater miracles, loftier aspirations, and more incredible physical healings? Is change just about trying to one-up Jesus?

Washing windows at a bus stop

At my public transit station, there is a man who cleans the windows every morning. People listen to their iPods, stare at the floor, and gather outside when the bus comes to take them away. No one is there to admire the view. Is this the kind of change I’m called to? I do the best I can in my sphere of influence, but in the end, it feels as though

I’m washing windows at a bus stop.

I sit and watch the window washer. While he washes windows, he talks to people – anyone – about everything. While people sit and wait and watch for their bus, here is this man who washes windows who talks to strangers. He reminds me of the whispering voice of God, calling me to change my world. I hear the whisper over the cheer of the bystander.

Greater things than these

There are times when I do get involved. It makes me uncomfortable, or it’s awkward, or it’s a disruption in my busy schedule. I think of all the things that could possibly go wrong. What if I helped that person holding four grocery bags and walking on an icy street? What if I donated a little more of time helping kids learn to read?

What if I decide to make a difference and it doesn’t make any difference at all?

The allure of the bystander is that it keeps me safe. I don’t risk anything, and I am rewarded for it. With my peace. With my dignity. With my selfishness.

And so today, I stand by the casket of the boy who laid down in front of a train. I talk to his brother and ask how he’s doing. I offer my condolences, my support, my house if he needs a place to sleep or vent or just heal. I am compelled by the whisper of God to make a difference.

Change. Impact.

These are two words that create life in me. And a call to greater things.

In a small way, I envy my daughter.  She’s at the age of vivid dreams that  turn into wonderful adventures of skipping ropes and flying through the air.  I’m happy to get a night of uninterrupted sleep, never mind the dreaming.  After all, I’m an adult.  I have work to do.

Sure, I have dreams.  Not just the kind that I experience at night, but those yearnings that keep me up at night.  I have dreams and aspirations that allow me to think bigger, to live larger, to see the world through believing eyes.  Admit it, you have them too.

As life moves faster and faster, I’ve found that I’ve begun to believe that dreams are for children.  Dreams are for fairy tales and absent-minded teenagers who have yet to experience the real world, the working world.  Dreams are the stuff of American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance where the victorious stand in a temporary spot light and tell me that I can accomplish my goals if I just put everything into it.  “Just believe!  Dream!” they shout through tears and stage make-up.  It comes across as a cheap sale, as if life is handing out fulfilled dreams on every corner.

Will dream for food

And so I carry on.  My life is busy.  Catch the bus.  Get to school.  Get to work.  Accomplish this goal and move on to the next stage of life.  Where’s the room for dreams?  Is there a mandatory expiry date on my dreams, as career, kids, and life move in?

The problem with dreams is that they never seem to go away.  They get pushed around, beaten up, shelved by time, but they never disappear.  They are always lingering someplace in the background of our hearts.  They appear here and there to let us know that they still exist.  They poke at our souls, asking questions like, “What would happen if…?”

The dark side of dreams

My own experience has taught me that dreams are easily beaten into submission by both people and circumstances.  When dreams are shattered, it’s difficult to put them back together.  It’s in those moments, in those months and years, where dreams begin to bury themselves underground.  When dreams go unrealized, especially the big dreams of our lives, they can quickly become festering wounds of disillusionment.  I’ve lived in this disillusionment for the past number of years.  And I began to emerge when I was asked a most profound question by an insightful friend:

“What is the goal of your life?  What do you love doing?”

I had a hard time with the reply.  Not because I hadn’t thought about it – I had been thinking about it for years!  I had pursued my passion in life, investing the entirety of my time, my energy, my soul.  And I had watched it all come crashing down.  My response was revealing. “I’m not telling you.  It hurts too much,” I said.

Dreams have that ability.  They infect daily routines with impossible thoughts, with desires that make the heart hurt with possibility.  Dreams can be dangerous, but they are vitally important.

The necessity of dreams

I need to dream, I must dream.  I need to see a world beyond myself, beyond my needs, beyond my abilities.  Dreams are important because they reflect this.  Our core dreams are not visions of grandeur, of hoping for a better job or a better pay, but of who we are.  We dream of what our purpose in world is all about.  Is there a place in the adult world for this sort of dreaming?

I certainly hope so.  After living in the shattered vision of destroyed dreams, I have come to realize that dreams are placed in our heart to give us hope.  They are one of God’s ways of whispering to us, “This is what you are designed to do.  This is how you can share my love in the world.”  Are dreams necessary?  Do they have a role in our lives?

I believe God whispers, “I certainly hope so.”

If you have given up on your dreams, you are not alone. If you’d like to talk about it, we’d love to hear from you. Use this form to  be matched with one of our mentors. Mentors are trained volunteers with real life experience.  They can answer questions, point you to other resources or just listen when you have something to say.

Your mentor will email you using our secure system, The Mentor Center (TMC).  TMC ensures your privacy by protecting your information.  If you want to keep talking, just hit reply.  The conversation is free, confidential and non-judgmental.   You can keep talking to your mentor as long as you like and there is never a fee.   If you’re curious, start a conversation.  We’re ready when you are.

The raw power of a storm is magnificent – the towering ominous clouds, the announcement of rumbling thunder, the unrestrained force of the gusting wind.  A storm is one of those unique opportunities in life where a person can watch the dynamic strength of nature – the same sort of unfettered energy found in an unstoppable hurricane, a supercharged bolt of lightning, or in the gentle caress of the sun.

As a human spectator, I am in awe of such power.  It reminds me of my place in the world, and that there is greater power beyond that which my own two hands can accomplish.

Matthew 19:26 reads, “With man this is impossible, with God all things are possible.”

With God everything is possible.  This is a phrase that can not be applied to something even as powerful as the sunshine or an earthquake.  The difficulty I have is that I view God’s power in much the same way I view human power.  When given power, I tend to abuse it after a time and I’m not alone in this.

Wealth, status, and power tend to distort one’s way of thinking in our culture.  Dictators with unchecked power have destroyed millions of lives in an attempt to retain power.  The wealthy in our world continue to prey on the less fortunate.  Nations go to war over self-interest in their pursuit of furthering their own territory. One of the beliefs of the Christian faith is that God has absolute power to do as He sees fit.

When God looks over creation, how exactly does He use His absolute power?  Is God the friendly hotel manager, who welcomes me in and makes sure my room is clean (forgives our sin), but in the end just wants my money (life)?  Or does He abuse His power like the crazed scientist, and create cruel circumstances to see how I’ll react?

I get a glimpse of the power of God in Amos 1:2, where it reads, “The Lord roars from Zion and thunders from Jerusalem; The pastures of the shepherds dry up and the top of Carmel withers.”

In the Bible, God takes on different names to convey the attribute that best describes His character in that particular moment.  “The Lord is my shepherd” is one example, where God is shown to be a gentle and wise leader.

In this scenario, The Lord roars from Zion and thunders from Jerusalem.

I recently experienced this sort of unbridled power while hiking in the mountains.  I’m not savvy on wildlife behavior, and the dominant thought during my hike involved how to avoid being eaten by animals who jump out of trees.  As I hiked further from my vehicle and the trees closed in, one thought pressed in on my mind:

“Could I kill a bear with my bare hands?”

The thought of a bear, with power coursing through every muscle fiber, charging at me while I patiently waited for the moment to lock my hands around its neck and squeeze for dear life didn’t make me feel more brave.  It was an experience much like telling ghost stories around the campfire.  It just made everything that much scarier.

Terrifying, to say the least.

Amos 1:2 constructs an image of God as a roaring lion ferociously attacking, ripping apart its prey with both efficiency and brute strength.  Is this an example of God using His sheer power to terrify a group of people because He’s bored and He wants to see some excitement?  Or is this an example of something else?

In Amos’ day, exploitation, wealth, and profit were the societal hallmarks.  The rich owned several houses and could afford to do whatever they pleased.  Moral standards, authority and rule of law were afterthoughts.  Society had lost its awe of God and who He was.

North American culture is in much the same rut as the Israelite culture of Amos’ day.  As a resident of that culture, I comfortably live in that same mindset, where possessions are collected, wealth is pursued, and morality becomes increasingly gray.  And yet God is powerful enough, concerned enough, loving enough to roar like an untamed lion because He sees that it is not the fullness of life that He has intended.  He is roaring not out of a bloodlust for destruction, but because He is a God who is intent on saving His people from their bondage to materialism and greed.

I am in awe of such power.  The God of the universe is roaring.

Questions: How does your life compare to that of Amos’ day? What steps do you need to take in order to make a change more pleasing to God?

About the Author Shaun Smith

A few weeks ago, my wife sat with me and listened to a downloaded sermon while traveling to visit family. We listened to inspired words of hope from a message presented by Erwin McManus, an informative and refreshing voice of truth.  I was able to remain in this reflective environment for a few hours, and think on how God was at work in my life.

During my morning commute, I often start my day with a great community of like-minded individuals who revive me in my faith.  Sometimes I am deeply challenged by the interaction; other times I am encouraged through shared laughter.  I am in the subway, listening to a Christian podcast that I enjoy.

There is a considerable movement within Christian ministries to venture beyond having a static online presence to creating an online ministry that extends beyond the walls of traditional church.  Many ministries and church leaders are making use of iTunes, Twitter, Facebook, RSS feeds, blogs, and podcasts (to name a few) as a way to reach a greater audience.  While it’s not meant to replace the local church (remember, God wants community!), it is a great way to spend a few moments each day interacting with the online community of God.

I am encouraged by the fact that ministry leaders are undertaking such a creative venture.  Efforts to reach a generation connected by the internet should continue to be applauded and encouraged (even if they fail!).  However, it is important to keep in mind the purpose for the technology.  While it’s outstanding that there are resources available to help me deepen my faith, I need to be careful not to become engrossed in the consumerist mindset.

In the age of technology, it is easy to search out the most charismatic, polished, informative speaker or most elaborate worship band and regard my local church as the “amateur hour” (although my church is great at what they do).  Anything less than the most innovative worship bands or keynote speakers can quickly cause us to be discouraged and write off the local church’s efforts.  In addition, Christian podcasts or chat groups can easily become just another way to fill my spiritual “need”, when instead I need to be focused on Jesus’ calling on me for the world.  During my morning commute, I enjoy listening to the Relevant podcast  (look it up on iTunes) and tuning out the crowded train.

As my fellow passengers jostle and bump each other (and me), I can lose sight of the fact that I am surrounded by people. I am surrounded by inner city, with its apparent needs and brokenness. As Brian McLaren once wrote, “we should always use it [technology] with care, remembering that Jesus modeled personal incarnation, not projection and amplification.”  I believe that my Christian faith needs to remember to take off the headphones and engage the world around me. Otherwise, I have bought in to the deception of consumerism, where it’s all about me and my needs.

The gospel, with its eternal truths, needs to continue to be presented through culturally relevant methods that point new generations to Jesus.  Because after all, it is not about rolling out the edgiest podcast, or the most up-to-date Twitter feed.  It’s about the One who gave me the ability to think of new ideas, and impact those around me in fresh ways. It’s about the message of hope, and life, and belonging – things that each individual and every generation desires to fully realize in their own life.  The message of hope that comes from One source – Jesus Himself.

What are ways that technology can add to our spiritual lives?  Where are the pitfalls of spirituality in the age of the internet?

Get involved: Explore how you can be involved in your spare time from your own home, with a growing Internet ministry, TruthMedia!

How very spiritual of me.

I listen to great worship music, engage with a thoughtful and informative speaker, and  leave with the five-hundred other very spiritual people who have made the trek to church this morning.  I walk across the street to a coffee shop, sit down in huge comfy chair and think:

“Why is this church stuff so important?”

Attending church has been a mixed blessing for me.  As a former youth pastor, church has been both a sanctuary of thoughtful challenge, healing, and creativity as well as a battleground of intimidation, pressure, and mistrust.  I have participated in church services where protection-ism and tradition dominate.  I’ve sat in services where the greeting from the front is about as authentic as the soap-water coffee in the back.

I’ve also had the joy of experiencing seasons of patient healing, where a body of people has surrounded me and loved me back to health.  I’ve seen what church can look like when people drop the agenda and engage in relationship.  I’ve experienced church where the overriding desire was to live life together, and to be real and authentic and it has all happened, surprisingly, within the walls of a church.

Mixing the C’s

When talking about church, it’s important not to get confused between big ‘C’ Church and small ‘c’ church.  So often, I hear that it’s important to attend church on Sunday morning, as if that’s as far as affiliation needs to go.  And so many people approach Sunday as the day given to God, and walk out the doors having completed their duty of faith.  They focus on the small ‘c’ church, where programs and outreaches and bible studies take place.  It reduces faith to a to do item in my calendar.

If that’s the apex of the Christian faith, then I’m not interested.

Church is more than just a meeting. Church is all about being a community where inspiration to do greater good takes place, where deeper love is explored, where enriching relationships occur, where authentic living is the goal.   Church is supposed to be a community where individuals are cared for, where gifts are used effectively, where I am challenged to grow beyond myself.  This is the capital ‘C’ Church that I so frequently yearn for.

I have heard the analogies that the church is like a campfire, where I need to return on a weekly basis to warm up my soul.  Or that the church is a well of water, where I can drink and be refreshed and then reenter the weekly desert.  The reality, however, is that church can become a bit mundane, and I struggle to keep it from becoming a religious duty.  In my own years of youth ministry, there were many times when I found myself glancing at my watch, waiting for the end of the service.  I was frequently more refreshed by the football game after church than by the service itself.  And again, the question arose:

Why is church so important?

The small ‘c’ church can be a time where we  catch a glimpse the capital ‘C’ church, even amidst the programmed service.

Programmed whispering

1 Kings 19:11-12 reads The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”  Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”

A gentle whisper.  I expect God to show Himself using the grandest methods available.  After all, He is God, isn’t He?  So in my own life, I look for the powerful wind, the earthquake, the fire.  In church services, I have defaulted to looking for God in the sermons, in the worship music, in the altar call.  And that is good, and God can be found there, but sometimes, God is calling me to something quieter.

A whisper.

If you find yourself at church, looking for God in the big elements of the service and not finding Him, consider that God may be there whispering.  The problem with whispering is that it requires effort to hear.  It involves an expectant perceptivity where you and I believe God will speak to us in any circumstance – even if it’s not in the schedule.  Whether you feel your church is the best in the world, or needs improvement, as long as it’s biblical, God is in that service.  Remember Matthew 18:20.  In The Message it looks like this, “when two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I’ll be there.”  One of the main reasons church is important is simply this – we go because God is there.

Hiding the Church in the foyer

For me, hearing the whisper of God at church happened quite by accident.  I was running in between the sound booth and the stage (ah, the life of a youth pastor) and was stopped by an elderly woman who wanted to talk.  And as we talked, we talked about meaningful things.  Amidst the rush and pressure of the church Sunday program, I was met with someone who wanted to engage meaningfully.

We missed the worship, and we very nearly missed the sermon (and I was preaching).  Yet I went away from the service with a taste of God’s vision for the church.  Through the moment with my elderly friend, God whispered truths of love, meaning, and hope into my life.  I witnessed a miracle in the foyer, while the worshippers filled the sanctuary with music.

Since that time, I’ve learned to be more attentive to the capital ‘C’ church.  I watch for those moments when God’s vision for the Church comes alive.  I anticipate moments when we get it right, when people who are hurting, who are thriving, who are living life surround me and together we listen for the voice of God.  If that happens on Sunday morning, or in a Bible study, or as while throwing a frisbee together with friends in the park, God is whispering.  This is the lifeblood of the Church.

How do we become more aware of the voice of God through the Church?  It’s less spiritual than you might think.  Here are the things that I’ve found are helpful in my own life:

> Live Expectantly. Pray that God would allow you to hear from Him today.  As you walk through your day, don’t attempt to manufacture some deep spiritual experience.  It will happen, and it may be something as simple as a two-minute conversation.

> Watch Actively. This is key to the whole experience. In 1 Kings 19, Elijah is instructed to go out and stand.  Watch for the voice of God, but let His gentle Spirit be your guide.  To often I wait for the momentous movements of God and I miss out on the small intimate moments.

> Reflect Wholeheartedly. When those wonderful gentle whispers happen in my own life, I make sure to say thanks to God, because He speaks so much love into my life in those moments.  This is not a forced moment of long prayer times; it often is more heartfelt with a simple thank you for God’s goodness.  It is these moments that keep my own spirit gentle and tuned in to God’s voice.

I’m excited to go to Church this week.  I’m looking forward to meaningfully engaging with those around me.  But most of all, I’m excited to hear from the gentle whisper of God.  After all, that’s the foundational essence of the Church.

What have your church experiences been like? Let us know in the comments area below or talk to use privately if you feel like sharing how you’ve been blessed or hurt by a church.