A New Kind of Who We Are

I was honored recently when asked if I would fill in as a guest editor for an upcoming ezine. I quickly said yes, though, I soon learned I'd have to pick a theme for my assigned month.

A theme.

Typically, any type of structure like this is pretty hard for me. I tend to wander all over the place, and in my wandering, I’m not always sure where I’ll end up.

But, thankfully, I stumbled across the Gospel of Mark, and sure enough, said theme started to surface as I became reacquainted with the following passage:

16 Passing along the beach of Lake Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew net-fishing. Fishing was their regular work. 17 Jesus said to them, "Come with me. I'll make a new kind of fisherman out of you. I'll show you how to catch men and women instead of perch and bass." 18 They didn't ask questions. They dropped their nets and followed. (Mark 1: 16-18 The Message)

The usual premise that springs up here is, roughly speaking, all that we need to lay down, right about now, before we can fully follow Jesus. What part of who we are or what we have would seem so completely illogical for us to give up, yet somehow we'd do it anyway, no questions asked?

That's a tough one.

But, taking this emerging theme a step further, I think we've all traditionally known the translation of Jesus calling out to Simon and Andrew, offering that he would make them into “fishers of men.” Very evangelical and that's just fine.

But The Message renders it:

“I’ll make a new kind of fisherman out of you.”

That’s an interpretation I'd never considered. Maybe you hadn't either.

And here's the thing: we know that fishing was the livelihood of Simon and Andrew. We further know that fishing was not only what they did from dawn to dusk—it was who they were. It was in and through fishing that these two men found their identity. Jesus obviously knew this, so he spoke their language and he beckoned them to give their identity over to him, and in so doing, they would be transformed into something different, something adventurous and exciting.

A new way to live.

It couldn't have been easy. That was quite a lot to give up. Everything they knew and everything they were expected to become was wrapped up in fishing.

But, is it possible that Jesus never meant for them to give up who they were? In fact, it seems like he was offering them the concept of becoming a new kind of who they were.

If that's the case, where do we find our identity? What labels us from dawn to dusk? What is it about us that we've been afraid to let go of, to give up, to lay down, always fearing that we'd somehow sacrifice that which defines us?

Do we trust Jesus enough to handle our collective transformation into a new kind of who we are?

“Come with me. I’ll make a new kind of _______________ out of you.”

Let's fill in the blank and find out.

Chapter 10 Love is Being Re-defined

There are signs of His majesty everywhere.

Some are expected and known, as with brilliant sunrises and settings, or in the hopefulness of a child. Perhaps, throughout the seasons that shift and breathe.

Increasingly though, His fingerprints are personified and discovered at the scene, the very one where the oppressed and the ill-fated grab a hand reaching down, with no condition upon rescue. An ongoing attempt is seemingly underway to level the playing field, to render a long awaited admission of the underdog’s existence, of Jesus incarnate. Lives are changing and hearts are softening. Perspectives are opening deep and wide, for love is being re-defined as a way to live, not just a feeling to reconcile.

I shouldn’t be a casual observer, nor should you; or worse yet, we shouldn't be reluctant to give berth to this Kingdom. It is advancing, and we’re acutely aware that it will be ushered in, despite our refusal or indifference as it approaches. The same tapes play over and over again and we make stubborn and willful choices; we dominate and deceive and effectively sidestep Him. We escort Him out of our way.

We divert His parade onto another route.

And I imagine He weeps, as anyone would, for what rejection isn’t harsh and cruel?

Yet His momentum will not be denied for love itself is unrelenting. Brokenness is being unearthed and yes, it surrounds us until the end. This air we breathe, once stagnant, is somehow more buoyant, as we nod in deference to this one or that, for we’re each as sin-stained as the next, and just as doomed.

And despite that sin and our inability to see the royalty of our birth, this unwavering pursuit of His knows no denial, no limitations. We are a chosen family, however bruised and fatigued. We are the redeemed, the purchased, the found.

So, together, shall we withdraw some permission we've granted the evil one? He who begs us to wallow in our shame and our defeat, all the while forcing our ineffectiveness and our inaction? Yes, for there is hope found today in this rabble and pile of fractured clay; that He will still take us and beautify us. That He will still use us.

Indeed, there are signs of His majesty everywhere.

The Porpoise Diving Life

Hey, Happy New Year to all.

At the end of 2006 I was honored to read an advance copy of Bill Dahl's manuscript titled The Porpoise Diving Life. Hopefully it will be available for everyone in the near future because it was encouraging, refreshingly honest and chock full of stories that demonstrate the gritty reality that is often our faith.

Ergo, the theme, "reality for the rest of us."

Anyhow, take a looksie over at his website if you get a chance.

Peace to you and yours. I look forward to spending more time with all of you in 2007.

~ Jeff