Despite all of our struggles, there is a reason I keep going back to The Crossing each week. This is a community where I have come to a more profound understanding of sacramentality. It is a community where I have begun to learn how service and leadership in ministry can be an offering, an act of worship, in and of itself. It is a community I contribute to, but what I receive is always far greater than what I give. This is a community where I have found support and accountability, where I have found belonging. It is a community that allows me to ask the ‘big questions,’ and that has promised to walk with me along the journey. It is a community where I have found mentors, and where I have become a mentor for others. This is a community that not only accepts, but demands that I bring my whole self to the communion table. This is a community where justice matters, where radical welcome is not just a feel-good ministry or a marketing strategy. This is a community where church is “a way of life, a way of connectedness with other Christ followers in the world.”[1] This is a community where I have found hope—hope that God matters and hope that we matter to God. And although this is a community that is still ‘emerging,’ vulnerability and humility make transformation possible. This is a community where the Spirit is alive. This is a community that has saved my soul.

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[1] Gibbs, Emerging Churches, 115.

surrendering to surprise

Here's a sermon Jason wrote for the final assignment of a two week preaching course he just finished up on the hill at the lovely Andover-Newton...

Sermon: Surrendering to Surprise

Text: Mark 6:30-44

Life is full of surprises isn’t it?

Last month my fiancé surprised me for my birthday…Now she had been planning this for weeks- doing research, making phone calls and reservations. When the day finally arrived, everything was in order; in fact, all I had to do was leave the house with the clothes on my back. But I was still in the dark. I kept asking her questions, trying to plan things out. “What do I need?” “Where are we going?” “When should I be ready?” But she refused to tell me anything…When she came over to pick me up, her call was simple- “Come and follow me.” Of course, I would have nothing of it. I wanted to be prepared; she just wanted me to trust. I can still hear her calling, “It’s a surprise!”

Life is full of surprises. Surprises of all shapes, sizes, and significance, good and bad, big and small, exciting and disappointing. Surprises that bring us joy and surprises that cause us fear…And we often feel like we need to protect ourselves against those surprises, we need to lay out the plans and ‘get ready,’ so that we can achieve our goals…And that’s okay. ..But perhaps, there’s also a time to embrace the surprises, to let go of our need to plan and to have it all figured out.

We can’t control everything that happens to us.

We are constantly surprising ourselves, sometimes exceeding our expectations and other times failing to fulfill them. We are surprised by the grades we get, the jobs we find, and the people we meet. We are surprised by our minds and we are surprised by our bodies- as they limit us in ways we didn’t expect, and they amaze us when we overcome our limitations and defy the odds.

We are continually surprised by others. An old friend calls to catch up, a colleague unexpectedly affirms our work, a stranger holds the door…our brother forgets our birthday, we catch our supervisor cheating, our neighbor drives past us in the rain…The people in our lives continue to surprise us- sometimes in the ways they inspire us with their generosity and their grace and sometimes in the way they disappoint us with their arrogance and ignorance.

And sometimes…we’re just surprised by the randomness of life- by the ‘fickle finger of fate.’ We’re working on a paper or a job report, sending an email or writing a blog when all of a sudden, our computer crashes…Sometimes the railing collapses, and sometimes we can’t get up and walk away…

We make plans but life doesn’t always work out the way we expected.

Sometimes our plane is delayed and sometimes we’re upgraded to first class. The stranger on the subway becomes a close friend and our college roommate becomes a stranger. Sometimes our surprises bridge us and other times they break us.

*****

So what do we do in the face of surprise?

The world tells us to protect ourselves, to guard against the ambiguity, to limit the uncertainty. Our society constantly tells us to look ahead, to plan for the future, to try to live rationally and to ‘figure everything out.’ Happiness comes from resources, resources come from upward mobility, and upward mobility is a result of planning. And as soon as we think we’ve arrived, we must begin planning for ‘the next big thing,’ the next school, the next job, the next child.

Just the other day my brother was telling me that he is a ‘plans guy.’ He says he likes to make plans, he likes to figure out what he’s doing next weekend, next month, even next summer. And then he looks forward to those events, in anticipation, and with expectation. But he also consciously told me that when his life doesn’t go exactly as planned, he is disappointed.

As I reflect on what my brother was saying, it seems that life can become an endless process of making plans and looking ahead with expectations, that maybe our expectations set us up for disappointment. Because other people disappoint us, we disappoint ourselves, and if nothing else, sometimes, life is simply unpredictable and doesn’t always go as we planned.

So then what’s the alternative? Throwing our sails to the wind and saying ‘whatever happens, happens’? ‘Flying by the seat of our pants’ and simply ‘enjoying the ride’?

The Hebrew Scriptures tells us that there is a time for everything- “a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot” (Ecc. 3:1-8)…

So there must be a time to plan. And I don’t want to suggest that because life can be unpredictable and because we are bound to be disappointed, that we shouldn’t have dreams, goals, or hopes. Still I can’t help but wonder if we’ve become so focused on the destination that we’ve lost sight of the joy in the journey.

I can’t help but wonder if Jesus intended something more for us when he said, “I have come so that they might have life and life to the full.” When I look at the Scriptures, I can’t help but wonder if God invites us to a life of surrendering to surprise…

When I look at the Scriptures, I see a God of Mystery, a God who invites us to a life of surrendering control and allowing ourselves to be surprised. Throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, we continue to see a God who uses people in surprising ways, in ways they didn’t expect and didn’t plan…

And in the New Testament, Jesus is all about surprise,…His birth was a surprise to the world. His entire ministry was about surprising people- who he spent time with, who he gave allegiance to, what he valued. In the ways he overturned power structures, in the ways that he loved and lived, Jesus was constantly surprising both tax collectors and religious elites. In his parables, Jesus was surprising and shaking up social and moral norms of the day. He was surprising his skeptics, he was surprising his disciples, maybe he even surprised himself. And through it all, at the center of Jesus’ message, it seems there is an invitation.

An invitation to give up the sense of control, to give up the myth that we can make life knowable.

An invitation to give up the ‘plans’ and ‘expectations.’

An invitation to trust.

An invitation to surrender to surprise….

But what does this look like, what does this feel like? When Jesus feeds the five thousand, we get a picture of the disciples constantly trying to plan ahead, to ‘be responsible,’ and to do what ‘makes sense.’ Jesus is pushing them to think beyond the logical, beyond the responsible, beyond plans and expectations. We see Jesus pushing the disciples to accept the uncertainty, to be okay with not-knowing, and ultimately, to trust.

The disciples are concerned with time, money, logistics. But Jesus is concerned only with trust. The disciples want to make plans, so that they can ‘get ready’ and ‘be prepared.’ But Jesus is focused on working with them as they are and with what they have. The disciples are concerned with allocating, but Jesus is concerned with giving…

And then…something happens. They allow themselves to be present in the moment and to accept themselves as they are. They begin to trust that Jesus might know something they don’t, that they are a part of something bigger than themselves- something they don’t fully understand. When they begin to trust,…Jesus SURPRISES them.

I can help but wonder if discipleship is most centrally about trust and surrender,

about not having to ‘figure everything out,’

about refusing to be bound by plans and expectations,

about giving God control,

about allowing ourselves to be surprised…

*****

Life is full of surprises and it seems that we have a choice. We can spend our lives preparing, making plans, and waiting in expectation for the destination…Or, we can begin to imagine what it might look like if we stopped expecting and started dwelling. Started dwelling in the present moment, in the place where we find ourselves today.

This is a place full of potential, risk, and disappointment. It’s a place where we don’t have all the right answers, a place where we can’t control everything. It’s a place where sometimes, we get it wrong…and sometimes, we get hurt. But in this place, we are not alone.

Imagine what it might look like, what it might feel like, to start to accept the ambiguity and tolerate the uncertainty.

Imagine what kind of a community we would become if we stopped thinking we don’t have enough time, money, knowledge…if we started to trust, if we started to surrender, if we started to believe that God wants to work with us as we are and with what we have.

Imagine what kind of a church we might become if we shifted our focus from achieving to receiving.

Imagine what could happen if we stopped relying on our plans and allowed ourselves to be surprised by Jesus.

How many people could we feed?

come and listen

"Praise our God for He is good.”

Ever since a bike ride I had about a month ago, I’ve been overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude. It’s something I’ve brought to spiritual direction, the faith-sharing group, and am now theological reflection. In Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, Thomas Merton writes, “The most wonderful moment of the day is that when creation in its innocence asks permission to ‘be’ once again, as it did on the first morning that ever was” (122). In a sense that’s what I mean by gratitude.

At the faith-sharing group last week, we talked about how we spend our time, and the relationship between time and simplicity, the relationship between time and our faith. We discussed ways we might be more intentional about our time- how we can create more space in our lives to for silence and how we can be more intentional about the spaces that already exist. Part of my action step that I brought before the group was to be more mindful of the many ‘bus rides’ I have throughout the week. I made a vow to not do anything ‘productive,’ to turn off my cell phone, to put my books away, and to start listening. It’s a small gesture, but one that’s already yielding significant results.

Above all, something just feels different. And it’s not just on the bus rides. It’s staying with me on the walk after, and in class, and in conversations, at church, in my dorm, and on the phone. I am deeply present and mindful of what and who God’s been putting in front of me, in a way I haven’t been for a long time. I am noticing little movements, and finding great joy in the small things- whether it’s the sting of a snowflake on my tongue, a warm foot inside my slipper, or running to catch the bus. For the first time, in a very long time, I feel incredibly alive. And I am overwhelmed by gratitude.

At the center of our being is a point of nothingness, which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us. (Merton 146)

I now I’m not without fault and this isn’t a moment of pride. It’s not the feeling that I’ve finally got it all figured out, and I know what I’m doing with my life. It’s so much more. It’s as if, despite all the messy moments of life- despite the distractions, the pain, the anxiety and the uncertainty- I just got a glimpse of what glory looks like. A glimpse of that small place deep inside each one of us that there is nothing, nothing but God. And I know it’s just a glimpse. I know that I won’t be able to keep the distractions and anxiety at bay forever, but I pray that whatever happens, and wherever I go, I won’t ever forget what this feels like.

I’m grateful to be for the opportunities I’ve had and the people I’ve known. I’m grateful for my education, and for the relationships I have now. And I’m grateful for The Crossing community. A little while ago, we started using the metaphor of a family. Well, that’s what this community has become. These people are my family. I’m grateful to have this opportunity to be a minister, I’m grateful to be a part of an exciting and emerging movement, and I’m grateful to have these people in my life. Above all, I’m grateful to have the promise that wherever we go and whatever we do, God doesn’t leave. It’s the promise we have in Jeremiah and again in Hebrews 13. “Be satisfied with what you have. For God has said, ‘I will never leave you; I will never abandon you.’”

And as I reflect on the source of this gratitude, it seems fitting that I find myself in this season- the end of the year, midterm reflections, final examinations, and advent. For me, this season is sort of about it all. It’s about taking time to look back and see what happened in the past year- what was accomplished, what was made new, what relationships were built, and also, what was lost, what was broken, and what was grieved. But this season is also about looking forward. It’s time to prepare, to get ready for what lies ahead and to be open-hearted to new beginnings and new life. Above all, it’s a time to rest. I think this season is about stopping. It’s about noticing. It’s about stillness, silence, and contemplation. It’s a time to remember what it is we do what we do. This is the season to follow David Crowder’s call to, “Come and listen.”