Chapter 5 A Seasonal Laziness

It occurs to me this day, that about twenty people, give or take, stumble across this wandering and perpetual novel on a regular basis. We've become a community, of sorts, because of our common interests and shared dreams. And all of us (I hope) are intrigued by the promise of an adventure -- a summoning to be a part of something beautiful.

But, while that's all well and good and touching, if you're anything like me these days, you're watching the summer drift by, without much direction, and you're prone to a certain idleness that mimics the laziness of this season.

It's hot out there and it's best to just stay inside.

All the same, despite this brooding indolence of mine, and perhaps yours, there are little (and not so little people) who are starting to get their act together. They've begun practicing for the football season and for other sports in open fields, here, there, and everywhere. Whistles from coaches and echoing drums from distant marching bands fill the air. The splendor of autumn adornment is not so far off now.

Actually, of fleeting interest, even though my favorite season is the beginning of each one, I have a special place in my heart for the fall. Somewhere deep within my wiring, I’ve been programmed to return to something of consequence, as if the harvest is ripe for me to pull my life back by the bootstraps and to saddle up. To accomplish goals that were set so long ago.

It's a time to get back to it.

Still, I’m divless and drifting and I’ll admit that I want the summer to last. This life of leisure, this season where laziness feels most at home, well, it beckons as if it is the prize; that the toiling and the trudging during other seasons and chapters of my life are endured merely to enhance my ultimate view while I lounge and loaf. Sure, deep down inside, I know this is a lie, whispered from one who has much to gain from my planned inaction and seemingly shallow sense of direction, but I pursue it nonetheless.

And despite the lethargic climate of this present now, I know that this God I worship isn't lounging; in fact, He is ever steady and intentional in His manner -- He's always in the game. He still calls my name, pushes me from behind, taps me on the shoulder and grabs me by the mask of my helmet. He stands ready for me to join Him, one eye on the action, the other on me and my apparent ability to make a difference for the team. He uses the coming season of anticipation to cajole, because, let's face it, the proverbial ball is being advanced down the field, towards a goal, even while I (and perhaps you) daydream on the bench.

And this daydreaming on the bench, well, it's actually a big problem. If our idleness rages as a battle within us, then, what if we’ve made our gatherings, our community, our church nothing more than a reflection of our ennui? Have we become men and women with an eye toward spiritual leisure and an improvement of our view, where we take comfort in the masses? Have we become an exodus of countless others, who trudge and toil so that ultimately we can sit and rest in a building on Saturday or Sunday or Wednesday night?

Are we a church that knows only summer as a goal?

Of course, because it just makes sense to be on the inside, where the prize has become, somehow, that more will join us within walls of our own creation.

If this is our only goal, then maybe we're all daydreaming on benches.

But there's a new season awaiting, one that I think draws us uniquely together. It is the beginning, my favorite part, where coaches will whistle and that distant marching drumbeat will call us into the game; the very way of a Kingdom. Don't be mistaken. This is a game of consequence where the ball is being advanced down open fields all around us, fields that are ripe with the downtrodden and the underprivileged. They are in my town and yours -- the hungry, the poor, the refugee, the sick, the naked, and the prisoners.

At times, this Bride we are has been stalled, halted, stunted. Why? Because our abilities to make a difference on the outside (where the action is), have been thwarted by cascading urgings to look inward; to pacify this gnawing, geographical pull toward a building -- a circling of wagons and SUV's and minivans galore.

This is a seasonal laziness that we’re mimicking and then calling it church.

So, then, what it is the answer?

I'm learning as I go, but from what I can tell, church must be viewed as a lifelong rhythm, not just a building with seats to occupy. Certainly worship and wise teaching and leadership are crucial elements for our nourishment, but those who want the adventure must realize that it doesn’t make sense to just stay inside.

If our imagination has taught us anything over the past months, it's that this Jesus we serve and follow, well, he's out there, on the edge, practicing love and sacrifice for no other reason than because it’s right and received by the unlovely, the unsuspecting, the unwelcome, the underdog. It’s a new life with a new purpose and yes, it’s out in the elements where it's rough and it’s dirty.

And it’s really not safe at all.

But, this is actually the primary goal! The one that was set so long ago; and if we pay close attention, we'll all realize that deep within our wiring, we were programmed to embody Jesus in and out of the places where he would go, just as if he were here today. To practice little gestures of love and caring and dignity that will bring justice and healing, and together we'll move the ball with a momentum that cannot be denied.

And so, this new church experiment in the making finds its parishioners, you and I, twenty strong or more, leaning forward, on the edge of our seats, peering toward a glowing screen of commonality. We are a church without borders, and we live in and out of states and countries and continents all around the world.

This is the call to return to something of consequence; this is the season to pull ourselves up by the boot straps, to saddle up and get back to it. What do you say we get our act together?