Best of LMR: "The View from Here"

I spend a lot of time here in the ongoing process of “de-constructing”–in other words, processing my thoughts and discussing the issues about the institutional forms of Christianity that are now in my rear-view mirror. That de-construction is necessary, and a lot of fellow bloggers are documenting their own similar journeys.

However, I think it’s important to note that this journey is about far more than what is in the rear-view mirror. There is a lot of stuff ahead of me, a whole horizon to explore. Stuff I never knew existed. So I thought I’d talk a little about that today.

During a lot of my de-construction, and culminating with the wake-up call, I felt a sense of grief and loss, and rejection. Institutional Christianity had been pretty much all I’d known, and had been a place where I found acceptance (as long as I “played ball”). So even though I could not deny the truth of what God was showing me, it was still hard to let go. And yet, I knew I couldn’t embrace what was in front of me until I let go of what was already behind me.

So when I let go…I found a whole new world.

If I boiled down all my feelings about being outside the walls into one word…it would be “wonder.” I feel like God has opened up the wide-open spaces to me, and I have discovered options for ministry and purpose I never knew existed. Despite the tame forms of Christianity I’ve lived in, there has always been a part of me that knew that ours is a subversive faith, one that is destined to turn the world upside down. That is the part of me that now is free to come to the surface. Before now, there were so many things I would never have considered doing (I do NOT mean in a sinful sense) simply because they didn’t fit the paradigms of “church”. Now I can see that there are so many more ways to be Jesus to the world than just the formats and structures I grew up with, and I’m anxious to try some of them out. 🙂 The boredom I have felt for years fades away in the rear-view mirror when I look out at all that is in front of me.

Before I really let go and embraced this new world, I tried desperately to hold on to my relationships within the institutional church (and I still have friends there). I often felt fearful and alone because I knew God was morphing me into something that more and more of those people could not relate to. But when I let go–not forsaking my friends, per se, but just not holding them so tightly–I found a whole new group of people experiencing a similar journey as myself. I have actually found people in this town who are like-minded. Wow. And I have discovered a whole set of Internet friends, and even some dear friends from the past who have found themselves on a similar journey. People I never would have found had I not been willing to let the institutions fall into the rear-view mirror. And of course, there is the wonderful house-church community that has not only watched us walk this path, but have been walking it with us all along. It’s still gets lonely out here sometimes–just not quite as lonely.

There are also times I feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. As a sheep in the flock of God, I feel like I have been kept in a sheep pen for most of my life (and when you think of a bunch of sheep stuck in a pen–boy, that analogy might just generate another blog post in itself–might be veerryy entertaining). Now, I feel like I’ve been released from the pen, and I’m running and jumping in the open country. Woo hoo! But then the magnitude of the unfamiliar surrounds me, and I start to get uncomfortable, even scared. The sheep pen is familiar, but I simply know I can’t go back there (besides, someone has locked it behind me). And when I find myself in this place of uncertainty and insecurity…this is when I begin to listen for the voice of the Good Shepherd. I am out in the wide open, but I am not lost. But I can no longer depend on the sheep pen for my bearings; I must listen to His voice. I can’t just venture off into the horizon; I must be led.

So…I’m a sheep in the wide-open country, driving in my car (make it a convertible), my wool blowing in the breeze, with the sheep pen in my rear-view mirror, the horizon in front of me, and God is on my GPS. How’s THAT for mixed metaphors?

Wayward Son

Musician. Composer. Recovering perfectionist. Minister-in-transition. Lover of puns. Hijacker of rock song references. Questioner of the status quo. I'm not really a rebel. Just a sincere Christ-follower with a thirst for significance that gets me into trouble. My quest has taken me over the fence of institutional Christianity. Here are some of my random thoughts along the way. Read along, join in the conversation. Just be nice.
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