www.blog.therefugeonline.org

as you all know by now, i have a lot of issues with “church.” i love love love people gathered together in all kinds of ways to learn and practice loving God, our neighbors, ourselves. it’s the programs, the inauthenticity, the power b.s., the unnaturalness of it all that i can do without. i believe wholeheartedly, in every fabric of my being, that without community and deep connection with other people (whatever that may look like) we will never be able to live out the ways of Jesus and experience the fullness of relationship with God. i am fairly convinced typical church systems that feed inspiration addiction provide a false sense of spiritual maturity where learning “about” certain things becomes enough and we are never forced to actually be in meaningful intimate connection with the people we sit next to week after week. lives need to be rubbed up against other lives. that’s where the real action happens and we learn what it means to really love & be loved.

at the refuge, we are not trying to be anti-institutional for the sake of being anti-institutional. it’s just that we are dreamers. we dream that the body of Christ would look much more like a family than a business or a production. after spending last weekend at the 3rd annual refuge camping trip at jackson lake i walked away with this thought: church should probably be a lot more like camping! really, it has all of the elements that i love & value about “church” the way i dreamed it could be:

• all the cover-ups are stripped away - camping is a great equalizer. a tent’s a tent. no one cares about what you wear or what you look like. every person trying to pull themselves up on a tube in the middle of the lake looks awkward, no matter how much money they make or what job they have. in a good way, camping (especially when there’s water because that means bathing suits!) exposes us in a safe container because everyone else is equally exposed, too.

• everyone shares - that is one of my favorite things, when we are camping there’s an incredible sharing of “stuff” with each other. we had 14 sites all to ourselves and there was zigzagging all over the place… ”need an extra tent? want some eggs? i’ve got some bacon! come over to our place and we’ll cook up the food.” needs get met. openhandedness abounds.

• conversations flow - fire, time and space creates a container for relaxed & meaningful conversation. no one’s rushed, hurried, has an agenda, or always has the floor.

• playing & more playing - little kids playing with big kids, big kids making new friends, games around the picnic table, balls getting tossed, splashing in the water, silly songs around the campfire, people trying things they don’t normally try, laughter everywhere. that’s worship.

• the little ones are a part - kids & grownups together is really important to me. we’re supposed to know each other’s kids & look after them & help them & love them instead of keeping them safely put away while we “do our thing”. when we’re camping, we’re all together, eyes and hearts and hands all over the place making sure everyone’s known & taken care of.

• relaxed instead of rushed - hurriedness is what messes with community. rushing in, rushing out, going from one thing to the next and never being able to be present in the moment. the stress of time and responsibilities and pressures really rob us of peace & connection. when we’re camping, we’re chill. we’re present. we’re unwound instead of wound up. we’re glad to be here instead of thinking where else we have to go next.

i could go on and on about all the cool parallels and i am sure i missed some other big ones, but you get the point. yeah, to me, camping really is “church” at its finest.
here’s a photo collage from our time together:

this month at the refuge has been focused on the mystery and beauty of the trinity. God, three in one. this past sunday we had an amazing time focused on Jesus. when Jesus began his public ministry, it was blaringly clear how misunderstood he was. in john 8, they asked “so just who are you anyway?” this is a great question that all of us probably ask in the quiet of our hearts. just who are you, Jesus? so instead of talking about him, we set up 6 reflective stations to allow everyone time and space to connect with him on their own. we are all in different places on the spiritual journey and there are aspects of Jesus’ character and heart that sometimes we need a little bit more than other. we provided an opportunity for people to focus in on Jesus as light, water, advocate, friend, savior, son. each station had something to experience, to think about, to respond to in writing and an action to do. there’s no way to re-create the moment, but here are some thumbnails and also the materials we used at each station if you weren’t there and want to spend some time reflecting on your own.

Jesus as friend, playmate PDF

Jesus as light PDF

Jesus as obedient son PDF

Jesus as our savior, healer, good shepherd, etc. PDF

Jesus as our advocate PDF

Jesus as living water PDF

More photos of our evening are posted here.

the desert is one of the nastiest places to get lost without food and water. the heat, the elements, the lack of water can be deadly if you’re out there for an extended time, unexpectedly. there’s really nothing pleasant about it–exposed to sun, wind, intense heat, predators, without shade or shelter. while a lot of us may not have ever been stuck in a physical desert, my guess is a lot of us have been stuck in a spiritual one. out in the desert, alone, exhausted, seeking water & shelter and finding none. wondering “when am i going to be rescued? when is God going to show up? when will i even get just a small sip of water, a sign from God, a flutter in my heart, something, that will carry me a little longer?” the spiritual desert is one of the worst places to be because it’s so confusing. if God is so good, then why is he absent? i am showing up, trying to be present, doing my part, and nothing’s changing. what happened? what did i do wrong? how come other people are experiencing God’s love, hope, spirit at work, and i’ve got nothing?

there are no good answers to these questions, really. i don’t understand the desert, either. i have been there myself. seasons where i just don’t feel God the way i used to, the way i long to. i strain and strain to see but everywhere i look i just don’t see what i was hoping for. i begin to question my faith. doubt God. shake my fist at God. ponder just throwing in the towel.

in evangelical christianity, the desert experience sometimes can feel like it has “something to do with us.” if we pray more, serve more, memorize more, get out of ourselves more, anything “more” we’ll “get back on track with God again” and out of the desert quickly. i’m not discounting we play a part, but i think this philosophy creates shame. the reason we’re not feeling or experiencing God is because i’m not doing it the way i should be. i am so familiar with this feeling. when i hear someone talk about how excited they are about God, i am sometimes jealous. and then i immediately go to shame—see, i am not doing what i am supposed to be doing to “get” God. if i only i were a better Christian. it’s all so stupid, really, but i am just being honest about how messed up i got with performance-based christianity.

our spiritual fathers and mothers—christian teachers and mystics and writers over the centuries—all recognized something very powerful about the desert experience. it is part of our journey with God and places where we might learn the very most about ourselves, about Jesus. st. john of the cross, over 500 years ago, experienced what he called “the dark night of the soul”, a complete absence of God for a season. while it seems like a horrible thing in the moment, terrifying, really, this kind of spiritual desolation is looked upon by many spiritual writers as a critical piece of spiritual transformation where everything gets stripped away (all of our works, efforts, techniques) and get down to the essence—God & us. that can sound pretty lofty. maybe even just a trite idea.

but like a lot of trite things, there can be some incredible truth in the triteness.

when all is gone, nothing left, just my weird crazy self straining to see God, feel God, hear God. maybe that’s where the real action happens. but i just don’t see it in the moment. and when i don’t get it, i’m out. i’m mad. i start to walk out to the desert on purpose.

but what i’m wondering these days is if maybe some of my “desert experience” is just that my faith and connection to God has made shifts over the past years & because it’s different it feels somehow “dry” in comparison. what used to be part of our relationship isn’t anymore and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. our relationship is just….different. i still long for the days of the passionate romance where i was just so “in” to the Bible & church & the spiritual high. i’m beginning to embrace that while that was good, real, true for that season, i am just in a different season, and if i look and notice, i see and experience God’s presence still, but it’s just not quite as exciting. i’m not saying i want to settle for less.

i am saying i need to learn to see the good in what is.

meanwhile, i know a lot of us out there feel like they are in the desert. tired. holding on by a thread, wondering when God is going to show up. i don’t have any great answers like i used to, but i do know this. i think we’re supposed to stay in and keep our hearts as open as we are able to. listen for Jesus’ love in some small way you’d never imagine. how we end up experiencing Him might end up being completely contrary to how we’ve ever experienced God before. you are not alone. something bigger is always happening that we cannot see in the moment. and probably what’s been the most sustaining to me when i am lost and wandering: never underestimate what God might be saying through people. sometimes the only thing i have had to hold on to is the word of a friend, God speaking to me through a person.

God, when we’re in the desert, bring us drink. a small cup of water, something that reminds us you’re there. give us strength to hold on, to wait. bring life out of barrenness. remind us what is good. and give us eyes to see even when we’re blinded by our thirst. Amen.

“i want some meat!”

“i wish we could get more meat!”

i know those of you who are struggling to buy groceries are thinking the same thing. but i’m talking about a different kind of meat that has nothing to do with grocery stores but everything to do with church. i have heard the cry for “meat” within the church ever since i became a true-blue evangelical church-going christian. when i entered into a season of spiritual and emotional healing about 14 years ago I remember demanding it myself. things started getting a little intense in my women’s group (people were really sharing honestly from their heart, not holding back, going the distance instead of faking it) and i told my group leader “i really wish we used the Bible more in here, i really want more meat! i really want to grow…” (i am now of course so embarrassed that I said this & after having seen the light a few years later confessed to her for not recognizing then that what we were doing in that little group was far more than just some stupid slab of spiritual meat—it was actually the whole cow!). but i was not alone in this kind of thinking. i hear it all the time, although now it is like nails on a chalkboard to me, maybe even like all of my children’s nails on a chalkboard all at once. and as you all know that is a lot of fingernails!

here’s what i think people mean by “meat.”

1. “Bible knowledge” - as in scripture verses and telling us exactly what they are supposed to mean. the more the better. a little bit of hebrew or greek translation adds the perfect spice.

2. “teaching” - teachers telling people what they think they need to learn or know in a very specific clear way so that we feel like we got a “lesson”, something motivating.

3. “certainty” – these are the facts and we are 100% certain that’s what this means and on top of that we are certain this is what you are supposed to do with this knowledge, too.

4. “a touch of shame” – some kind of moment that gets created when you think “now I’ll try harder….I need to be more godly…I am convicted and now this week I will get rid of that sin for good.”

while none of those things are inherently “wrong” what gets to me about all of them is they are sort of irrelevant to the gospel of Jesus. in fact, he said over and over to the religious leaders who had these 4 things mastered up and down, backwards & forwards, “ummm, guys, you are missing the point. here’s all that you need to do—be like me.” he didn’t say “go to a room, feed your belly with knowledge, get inspired and go home feeling spiritually fat.” he said, “hang out with the outcasts, the losers, the nonreligious, the prostitutues, the sick (oh, and by the way, that means you), get in touch with your brokenness & need for me and practice the way of self-sacrifice, generosity of spirit, humility and love. yes, my friends, this is what will change the world.”

i love the Bible. i think scripture can be transforming. but i also believe we have dismissed that true spiritual maturity is a life of serving others in tangible ways, humbling ourselves to the lowest place, giving up our comfort, money, time, pride for the sake of others. remember, the word of God became flesh, and that is what He did.

i think when we are honest what we really want is to be spoonfed spiritual milk and are terrified of true, tasty, Jesus steaks. most of the people i have been around through the years who demand “meat” are great, sincere believers. but usually their expressed desire for “meat” is actually them running for the safety of others who are more socially acceptable and sound more godly.

you see, the church has contaminated our taste buds. we have been taught to think that “spiritual” must include Bible knowledge, certainty, teaching, a touch of shame (and healing that looks like good behavior) so we keep seeking after it, church after church, Bible study after Bible study. but honestly, what it seems like to me is that people keep learning but never really apply much. we’re lonely but we never connect. we keep slipping in and out of services but never engage with a hurting person beyond “hi, nice to meet you.” we keep going to Bible studies & church meetings & services & prayer times hoping we’ll become more like Jesus and end up insulating ourselves more and more from the very places Jesus always was hanging out.

so here’s my soapbox mantra for the past 5 years or so, everytime I hear someone demand “meat”….“okay, no problem, look around. i see freezer after freezer full of it.”

reach out to someone in need no matter how messy it seems. help the poor. sacrifice your time and money. restore a broken relationship. love the outcast, especially the person that bugs the hell out of you. spend the time you waste watching TV investing in a person, no matter how young or old. stop nagging your spouse and change your behavior. serve someone else. open your home to others. force yourself to do something uncomfortable. get your head around the reality that you’re just as messed up as ‘those people’. humble yourself and let another person into your life. stay in a friendship for the long haul instead of running away.

and here’s what i believe usually happens next—never directly, always subtly—“nah, that kind of meat, i can do without. when does the next Bible study start?”

our taste buds have been contaminated. Jesus’ ways sometimes don’t initially taste too good going down. but for me, i have to say, nothing’s better than the aftertaste– the quiet moments when I notice where God’s spirit worked, what He is teaching me about me, life, humanity in the midst, and the beauty in the ugliness.

i know a lot of people think that at the refuge we are drinking milk. it sure tastes like steak to me.

i hate to pick on fabio, but honestly, I do not know what his appeal is. he’s just so….perfect. those abs, the flowing hair, the perfect smile, those penetrating eyes. if you could can the world’s view of “perfect specimen” of course he would be it. (i will admit i do have a weakness for long hair, jose had me under his spell when he grew his hair out last year and had that liberal-lawyer-surfer look! too bad he has to keep his job as mr. conservative united pilot) but, back to fabio. and Jesus.

a few weeks ago, I was watching the trinity broadcasting network, the home of christian-evangelical-name-it-and-claim-it-craziness. we are talking a serious multimillion dollar industry—all in the name of Jesus. it actually is quite nauseating but our friend nadia was asked to write a book about her experience of watching TBN for 24 hours straight. she wanted to add some flavor to each hour, so she invited karl & i over to offer our perspectives since we are now pretty much former good evangelicals who now live in the sh**ty christian camp. well our hour slot included a ½ hour program called God Wants You to be Wealthy where the “speaker” wore a silver trenchcoat mini-mini dress with 4 inch heels and tried to hock her book “God wants you to be a millionaire.” She encouraged us to “sow our best gift now” by donating to her program. don’t even get me going on that one. but my commentary for the moment is that she was perfect in every way, with off the charts confidence, and an absolutely convincing delivery to all of the poor souls who are just hoping for some kind of crumb to make their lives better. her promises were ridiculous and using God that way just really gets to me…the other 1/2 hour program featured the Holy Land Adventure theme park in orlando, with Jesus reenactments throughout the day. guess who Jesus looked like? yeah, fabio.

have we simply made God in our own image? we want Jesus to be hip, cool, appealing. that’s what we are drawn to—images in people magazine & cosmo. christianity (mostly the american version) have become the root of a money making machine, a business that is fine-tuned and finessed to perfection. we like to watch and listen to people who are good looking, smart & make life look simple. this flawless, easy, and comfortable appearance has become a staple of church programming. we want to make the gospel easy for people to get. we want to make their church experience comfortable, distraction-free. we don’t want anyone to be offended. we want Jesus to be attractive. what Bible are we reading for goodness sake? Jesus was ugly. not cool. not worldly. not slick. not hot. the old testament prophet isaiah describes him this way:

he had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
he was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.
like one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not. (isaiah 53:2-3)

does this look like the Jesus most churches are trying to sell? does this look to you like any of the pretty, neat, and tidy intact families you see on most church programs & websites? I don’t want to dismiss all those pearly white teeth and smiling faces, but come on, people that look like that, really only “look” like that. and here’s the rub–these are the people most churches are trying to attract. pretty, happy, smiling, successful, confident, married with 2.5 kids. they look great—on the outside.

well, Jesus surely wouldn’t have made the photo shoot cut. there’s no glamour in who He was, what He did, and what He has called us all to. in fact, not only is it not glamorous, but it’s downright stinky, dirty, and as ugly as you can get. feed the poor, hug the lepers, give away all of your money, care for the prostitutes, share your stuff, sacrifice your pride & comfort & family’s name, lay down power, hang out in the slums, be honest about all the daily struggles in your imperfect life. that, my friends, is the gospel. you see, it can’t be cleaned up. because real humanity, people trying to live this difficult Genesis 3 life, isn’t pretty. it’s full of pain and insecurity and shame and sin and craziness and desperation. i don’t care how pretty you try to dress it up on the outside, it just isn’t all that attractive. now I personally find it beautiful beyond words—all that rawness, dirt & sweat rubbed up against honesty, unconditional love, grace, healing, and hope. to me, it’s glory. i believe wholeheartedly that Jesus came to dwell with us in the stench and offer beauty and redemption in the midst. He sits in the muck and isn’t afraid of it because it’s real.

so why are we so afraid of it? i am. i admit it regularly. i think it’s because i often make God in my own image. i lump Jesus into all my worldly ideas about success and value and beauty. everything has to be fabio-like, but in reality, life gets ugly. yeah, i can clean up the outside pretty nicely, but it’s just christian window dressing. my faith isn’t strong enough to heal me, victory is not my middle name, shame is. i can never really measure up. i keep screwing up the same things over and over again. i know that’s the big idea of the gospel—we can’t. i can’t. it’s why i so desperately need the real Jesus and His grace, His hope, His help. the whole big idea here was always our heart, the stuff on the inside, but that is always the most dangerous place to go. my hour of TBN tv-watching just reminded me how often the current contemporary “church” (and me, when i’m making God in my own image) isn’t into the real Jesus. and i think that there’s a simple reason—the real Jesus is unpredictable, wild, crazy, and asks us to do hard things in our life that require us to get up off our comfy seats, peel our eyes off the video screen, and engage in the ugliness & beauty of other human beings. to bring what’s underneath our veneer and coverups to the table and look beyond what we see on the surface in others, too. money, power, comfort. strength, worldy beauty. none of it means a damn thing in God’s economy but it sure gets some serious airtime in the american church, and not just the ones on TV. Jesus, forgive us, for making you in our image. we admit, it’s a really bad (albeit easier) idea.