Chapter 29 Rockier Than Once Thought

What else can we do now?
Except roll down the window
And let the wind blow
Back your hair

Well, the night's busting open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We've got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting down on the tracks

Oh-oh, come take my hand
We're riding out tonight to case the promised land

Oh-oh Thunder Road oh Thunder Road...

Bruce Springsteen, Thunder Road


Inspiration uncovers its source quite often in the usual places, and so, please forgive this Jersey boy as he regresses to the turbulent sounds of his youth.

Time and time again.

It's just that, well, this adventure that meanders towards a new kind of church, it too finds its way back, again and again, to one road, rockier than once thought; it's an open air concept, really, of finding faith and redemption in the trenches, off the beaten path, in the ditches, the underpasses; fused with a suspension of self, injected once and for all with a steely resolve to seek and search out the hurting, to love and serve them, often blindly and certainly unapologetically.

Quite honestly, what else can we do now, as a congregation, but acknowledge that this is it?

Indulge me, one more time if you will, the words of the Boss, because this night of ours is busting open; and whatever he originally meant by that, right about now, in my town and yours, we’ve got one last chance to make it real.

What keeps us from getting this? What wings have lifted us above this fray, to look down loftily in judgment upon the least of these, perhaps unintentionally, but certainly palpably? Of course it didn't begin with malice or ill intent, so, perhaps it was simply a passage of time, of ennui, of sloth? Or maybe, it was a subtle generational or denominational influence bearing down its sophisticated authority over us, its hapless victims?

Can we, must we, trade in these wings of lies on some wheels of truth, and embrace the veracity of the road, its asphalt, its gravel and grime, even grasp and claw if we need to toward the gut level grit of the Gospel? Can we concede that the calling out of our glory reveals little of self advancement or aggrandizement, but for the cause of justice and ultimately the fame and recognition of the Rider?

If so, roll down the window with me this new year, and let the wind blow back your hair. Better yet, climb with me on the back of a Harley that roars and rumbles and reveals at last that the heaven we can know right now is waiting down on the tracks, in the margins -- and together there, yes right about there, we’ll find those who are unlovely, unwanted, downhearted and lonely, with gazes to be lifted, shoulders and backs to be bolstered, and hope to be born out of the ashes of abandonment.

Believe it with me, that these two lanes will take us -- not just anywhere -- but to the one true place we've always known was just off the beaten path. Let's take each other's hands and case this promised land together.

Call it Thunder Road if you want. I'm sure the Boss won't mind.