I am currently in St. Pete, Florida at a transformation conference by Presbygrow. I am digging it bunches. I am collecting much material to reflect on and post here in the next couple of weeks. I aim to be better about promising material and truly publishing it here.
I begin my first call October 03, 2008. I am supper excited about this!
This morning I had breakfast with Rev-Paul. He is the cat in charge at a smallish church in Nashville. We also went to seminary together and had a run in on the basketball court where out mutual mass meet and ended up hurting folks. I still have a scar on my arm as a reminder of what happens when Burns meets Ryan.
We had a great discussion about theology, missiology, and what it means to be church. One thing I am muling over is “How are we community?” [especially a community of Christ] It dawned on me in the midst of our conversation that if the church [the PCUSA] wants to transform we ought to go boldly towards a community of inclusive love.
I am not offering here that kind of love that says I am right and you are wrong. The kind of love that points fingers and proclaims injustice as the actions of another. We need a love that is radically inclusive. A love that stands near the “opposition” and lives with the other.
A Christ-like community exists in the hard spots that suspend human understanding and transforms radically in line with love…those moments in time where Jesus is the only answer. Not a Jesus of commercial enterprise that revel in its scarcity. Rather a Jesus of abundance that is open to all and shuns none. That is a radical Jesus.
It seems that as a denomination we seek to commodify Jesus and turn him into a scarce product that the world must demand. Rather than committing ourselves to sacrificial relationships that penetrate deeply into the hurt, brokenness, and depravity of the other and transform us into creative children of God being the church to the wounded masses.
What have we departed from the Spirit? Where have we drawn plans of mortal decent? When do we return home to the waiting arms of our Creator? A feast is waiting our return…