Been gone!

I haven't blogged in a long time. Most people don't know about my blog because it changed its name due to an effort to make it more accessible - which has left it less acessible. Anywho, I'm still alive and as it has it, I am not an associate pastor at a Church in the area that I'm living in. The Church's name is Life Community Church and it used to be called Cumberland Baptist Church. I never in all my childhood or teenage life or on into my young adult life wanted to or thought I would be a pastor. For me the thought was like wanting to be a Nazi. That is kind of harsh you say - well you're right except that it how distasteful if was for me to think of becoming a pastor and how far I was away from the idea. I had a hard time even imagining myself as one, except in the moments when I pictured myself up in front of a lot of people, yelling at them what I really thought of them. I did that once or twice and found out that people don't like to be yelled at. My journey into the pastorate wasn't a professional choice or a life calling as much as when I was confronted by my own fallenness. You see, I would hear preachers and speakers talk about those who experienced suffering and pain and how the Holy Spirit comforts those people ( I still don't know how that works other than if you really believe it ) and how God forgives sinners, etc... but what I didn't understand or know about was what God did with people who caused pain to others and didn't care at times if they were forgiven or not. I'll be honest, I have felt like that and wondered about what God thought of me in the process. I rarely felt like I did things right, pleased God with my attitude, spent enough time in prayer, Bible reading or silent meditation or was kind to people. As a teenager, I wanted to know what God did with people like me who just felt sinful on a constant basis and didn't feel good enough to be in ministry. It always seemed that I was on the bottom of the barrel when it came to good enough. So, the thought of being a pastor, was the furthest thing from my mind.

Then I heard the most captivating sermon of my life, the sermon that will for all time go down as my favorite sermon of all time. It was a first person narrative of the story of Hosea and Gomer, the prophet who married a prostitute and who loved her even despite her infidelity. I knew what it felt like to be a Gomer and I'd never really heard this part of God preached or taught before. It tore through all the crap of legalism and be "good enough" that I'd been pressured with and taught to believe and showed me the utter depths of God's love because He had gone to the utter depths of my ugly heart - places that even I hadn't gone to. As I've grown and understood how dark my sin really is, I arrive at caverns in my heart that freak me out, places that horror stories are made of - ones that make you sick to your stomach. You know what I found there, little markings on the wall of someone who'd been there already. Footprints and flashes of light that gave me the circumference of the dark caverns of my heart. The deeper I trod through these caverns the more fear I was blanketed with and yet I could see that someone had gone before me - and they weren't lost - they had gone this route on purpose. At one point, I had to stop because the fear and loathing of turning the next corner was too much to handle and yet I could see that the One that had gone ahead of me, had gone still farther. I can only imagine that next time I need to go farther but no matter how far I go, I don't think I'll ever get to the bottom and I know if I did, that One would have been there already.

There's a freedom in knowing that I can traverse the landscape of my life, but the freedom dims when I have to go spalunking into the taverns of my heart where fear is the air I breathe. I can't see, it's pitch black and yet each time I've ventured knowing I needed to go, I've seen that Someone was already there. In that I find comfort. I can only think of Gandalf and his deep righteous voice as it cascaded across the mines of Moria's great hall - "You shall not Pass!" as He unwincingly stared down the Balrog. For that moment there was more strength seen in him than ever before but the real strength was found in what no one saw - when he was leached to the demon and fell into the deepest caverns of the earth where evil exists unheard of and fought the Balrog only to triumph where none had triumphed before. He came out victorious. He had to go there because He was Gandalf. Jesus is my Gandalf, He is my unseen friend in the caverns of my heart - the one who has gone before me and I know no other who could do so or would do so.

Part of being a shepherd for people is leading down the caverns of their hearts to show them how far Jesus really has gone. I've seen the ugliness of my heart, I just wish I hadn't acted it out so much, but my regret is only an ode to forgiveness if it is anything. I can't excuse sin but I don't care if I do at this point because that is not the point. The point is that we all have caverns that we are afraid to descend into, but without the descent, we can't see how far He's really descended for us. Grace has to answer whatever we discover about ourselves. It has to otherwise it is not real. If we are to discover that grace, then we are called to descend at points in our lives - not all the time and not without hope but we are called to descend. I hope that as a shepherd, I may be able to call people not only away from their sin but to face it head on, each difficult step down into their caverns. There, I believe they will find grace - the grace that answers what they fear and eclipses their fear with a warm vat of overflowing goodness, a bath of God's goodness to melt into while the fear dissipates into the cold past. I guess knowing that Christ has gone that far down makes me think of what will call us from the surface. I still like to hang out on the surface where the light is bright and the company feeds my ego, but I know I'm called downward at times. I just don't want to go, so should I repent? If I want grace I'll go.