The Gospel Rhythm

Papa Dan (recently dubbed by Lashonne Maki), lead pastor of Plymouth Covenant, spoke at the Well today.  Plymouth is the parent church of the Well, a new church plant where my family and I have been hanging out for many months.  The theme of his message this morning is one I’ve heard many times before, but something new stuck out this morning.  Pastor Dan began by showing a great Nike commercial where basketball players are dribbling and passing back and forth with great rhythm, something he claims that he does not have.  He might not have it on the b-ball court (actually I think he does), but he sure has it as he preaches.  His words were simple yet profound.  The gospel rhythm is one of coming and going, breathing in and breathing out.  Come to Jesus, all you who are weary and burdened; and then go and make disciples.

I know all this.  And it all makes sense.  In fact, I don’t even question that it’s true.  All coming or all going, or all inhaling and no exhaling, is not healthy.  Rhythms abound in the seasons and days and years, but they need to be apart of our lives too.  But what struck me today is a conditional statement that Dan made.  Who should come and when should we come to Jesus?  That’s the way he briefly asked the question.  His text for the morning was Matthew 11:28, and the ones whom Jesus calls to come are those who are weary and burdened.  As Dan put it, “who can come?”  “What are the requirements for coming to Jesus?  Do you need enough money?  Do you need to have your act together?  Do you need to be good enough?  Do you need to approach him in a special way?”

No!  The requirement for coming to Jesus is that you are weary and burdened, in need of him.  That’s the time to come.  Otherwise, if we are fulfilled through His Spirit, we should be in the going state.  Going to those in need: feeding, clothing, teaching, encouraging, baptizing, helping, and so forth.

I think many others this morning could relate to the weary and burdened part.  Just as thirst should lead us to water (or coffee,) weariness should lead us to Jesus.  It was a good word that we were all glad to hear.

In contemplating yesterday’s blog, I remembered the uncomfortableness with which I write about feeling great and relating that to God’s goodness, even though I genuinely feel that.  Because I know that at the same time that I’m feeling wonderful, there are others in this world that are just barely hanging on.  Suffering and hardships abound in this world, and I sometimes feel guilty blocking those out of my mind while I revel in a splendid time.  But I suppose like the necessary rhythms of coming and going, we all need times to laugh and times to cry, times to feel euphoric and times to wallow.  Oops, I’m starting to sound like the Preacher, the one in Ecclesiastes.  (I once roomed for a short time with a philosophy major who was “wasted” on something and would claim that the only thing he understood from the Bible was the book of Ecclesiastes, but that’s a whole nother story.)

 
News Flash:  Christina wants more holes in her head.  Two earrings is not enough.  Four earrings will be enough, she claims.  As of now, she desires no nose ring or bone, no tongue piercing, or belly button or eyebrow stud.  Word has it that many who have good ears wish that a certain person had one fewer hole in her head (just under the nose).  I’m sorry, but the two of us just finished a half-hour “one minute” conversation.  Or should I say monologue?

Maybe I feel a need to blog, because I can’t get words expressed in the oral means.

 
Personal Note: To my “F-in” friend Dale, I’m single-handedly trying to lower the standards of blogged material, striving to make this medium comfortable for all.   Read enough of this and realize that you too could type away aimlessly.  (Although the more I read of other blogs the less intimidated I become and the more thankful I become for all the help I receive from others with a similar mission.)

But on a more serious note (although I guess I am primarily serious about the above statement), I find that the best way to better myself in anything is by doing.  Whether I sling mud on the walls or attempt to sail, my proficiency is elevated by practice.  And I try to forget the times I end up in the lake and the days I come home with more mud on my clothes than on the walls.

In this blogging venture, I’ve decided never to look back.  I don’t read what I’ve written in the past because it would probably make me self-conscious and overly critical of what I did weeks ago when I was “younger and dumber.”

So blog on, dude.  Make a fool of yourself or me for that matter.  Expose me as a washed-up Carcassone player, losing my strategical edge with each passing game.  Or in this Bush era should I say “stratejory.”   Whatever.  I gotta go now.  And thanks for listening (or reading) and not talking back.  In my household, I need that.  I receive ample practice in listening, so I sit here needing to vent.  There I’m done.  Really.  Or as the great British poet Rev. John said, “I’m Donne.”  Fini.