Tithe

I read something in Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz that really hit me, and I want to share it with you today, and how I tried my hardest to carry it out.

Miller wrote about a friend of his who very rarely frequented a church building and yet held a strict policy on "tithing" (the act of giving back from your money to God, usually through church). Miller asked his friend why he tithed when he saw a large glass jar on his desk full of money that was considered "unusable" because it was money he was going to someday give to a church. His friend replied, "How can I not tithe, Don? It's God's money!"

That really hit me. The blessings that I have are not mine; they are God's. And I need to give of them back to him. And I love how Miller discusses how that doesn't always mean dropping a couple of bucks into the collection plate on Sunday morning. So yesterday I went to the ATM and got out some cash and decided that I was going to REALLY tithe today. I was going to find some way, other than the collection plate, to give this money back to its rightful owner.

I went to church in Jackson with my sister and brother-in-law, and then afterward we went out to eat in celebration of my birthday from last week. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I knew that it was now or never; I had some money burning in my wallet and I had to find a way to glorify God with it. I drove around the usual places that homeless people typically hang out at on Sundays, and I didn't see any. I was very discouraged... I started to get on the exit ramp and head back to school, I switched it to "Give Me Your Eyes" by Brandon Heath on my iPod, and got back on the highway.

I didn't make it a mile before God showed me what I was supposed to do today.

I saw a ragged-looking man with a large backpack walking down the road just before Casey Jones' Village, and he had a small puppy walking with him. I pulled into the parking lot at Casey Jones' Motel, and climbed the embankment up to the interstate to greet the man.

He was so thankful just that I was saying, "Hello."

His name was Jim. His dog's name was Niche. Jim had dark, tanned and leathery skin. He had a thick, gray and black beard that hung down to his chest. He had maybe four teeth, big wide eyes, a shirt advertising a motorcycle rally and a beat-up cap. He was sweaty, and extremely dirty, and smelled strongly of alcohol. I asked him what I could do to help him, and he said that he was so hungry and needed a place to stay for the night. He told me that he'd been trying to hitchhike out of Jackson for a few days now, but that it was proving to be no luck. He had been sleeping behind an old abandoned gas station just down the road from Casey Jones' Village. He didn't know what to do.

I walked with him back down to Casey Jones' Motel and said I'd try to get him a room for the night. The woman at the front desk seemed shocked to see me walking in with this man. She said that they couldn't allow him to stay because they had a no pets policy. As I walked out, we caught eyes, and she was looking at me with a look of bewilderment that I won't soon forget.

Jim and Niche loaded up in my car and we drove down the road to Days Inn. Jim got out and asked the lady at the front desk if they allowed pets, and they did, and so he happily motioned for me to get out of the car and come in. We left Niche outside for a little while and went in to talk to reception. Jim filled out the paperwork for the room, giving the lady the I.D. that he had from a homeless shelter in Colorado. I noticed a Honduras flag hanging on a necklace around the lady's neck (how "ironic," God), and asked her about it. She said that her boyfriend was from Tegucigalpa. I explained that I had been a missionary there that past summer. It was almost as though once I started talking about being a missionary, it all clicked for her. As she handed the room key to Jim, she just looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and said, "Have a great day" as I exited the door. She added quietly, "Yeah... you too..."

:)

I helped Jim get his stuff out of my car, and he unhooked Niche from his backpack and stood up straight to say goodbye before he made his way to his room. He looked me in the eye and said, "You will never know how much I appreciate what you have done for me. I have been so stressed out lately trying to find a place to stay that, look," he stopped and showed me his hand, which was shaking violently, "... Look, I'm shaking I've been so stressed out." Then he paused for a moment and looked at me again and said, "You are sent from Heaven. God bless you." I shook his hand and returned the blessing, gave him a little cash for some supper, and wished him a good, relaxing night's sleep and a good breakfast tomorrow morning. He laughed, "I've been so stressed and worried for so long. But for tonight, I get to just kick back and relax. I don't have to worry about anything! I'm going to take a shower, and get some food... It will be great." And with that, Jim went back to his room. And I got back in my car. And I drove away.

And I cried.

I turned the iPod back on, and "Give Me Your Eyes" was still playing, and then "Instead of a Show" came on, the car still smelled like the bitter mixture of alcohol and sweat, and I just... cried. I cried for Jim. I cried for Niche. I cried for all of the broken people and situations and circumstances that are in this world.

And so I ask God, "God, help me to bring Heaven here. Help me to spread your love to everyone that I come in contact with. Help me to restore things to what you meant for them to be. Help me to make things better. Even if it's just for one night."

So here: have your money, God. You do better stuff with it anyway.

"'Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,' says the LORD Almighty, 'and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.'" - Malachi 3:10

Church

A week ago (last Sunday), I experienced church. And it was pretty cool.

Let me back up. I had been discontented with a lot of "church" stuff lately. I was seeing a lot of hypocrisy, a lot of showiness, a lot of bright and shiny faces sitting in pews while the minds behind the eyes were brooding over the hurts and sores and sins they were unwilling to confess to anyone because they were still too busy playing

the stained-glass masquerade.

I had been attending the "conservative" congregation in town, the "bulwark of the faith" for the area, boasting nearly 1000 members on Sunday mornings and yet... Not really helping make life changes in any of them. I was so tired of conservative Christianity arguing all of the time about the dangers of heresies such as liberalism, idealism, and worse still... the Democratic party. So my reaction was to get away from that and go to the other end of the spectrum. I started attending some of the more "open-minded" churches in the area, trying to find a better balance between Christ's teachings and Christ's true purpose in life: to love God and love others. I figured the conservative churches had the teaching but were missing the purpose, so I went to hang out with liberals I thought would get the purpose.

They weren't.

I realized that they were just the other side of the same coin, arguing all of the time about freedom in Christ and how the "conservatives" were so full of division (not seeing that by labeling them as "conservatives" they were dividing from them themselves). They were arguing the other end of the spectrum on the same exact issues and

nobody was looking anything like what I thought Christ died for.

So after my day of fasting, I went and talked with my campus minister from back home. We talked about a lot of things, but one thing that I really wanted to discuss was my disillusionment with church. I was so tired of what we had changed the community that Christ intended for us to have as brothers and sisters in Christ into, and I told him that it was greatly crippling my faith. He told me something I will never forget, "Don't let the church get in the way of your relationship with Christ."

I needed that one.

But at the same time, he said, this messed-up, hypocritical system of "church" was EXACTLY what Christ died for. He died for messed-up people, to try and bring them into a better way of life. And the church is disfunctional because it's full of people: people that are still trying to figure it out. And he encouraged me to not give up on them, but to lead them.

That's when I remembered that someone once taught me, "Church isn't about what you get out of it, but about what you put into it."

So I'm done with the labels. I'm done with "conservative," and I'm done with "liberal." There is no "conservative" or "liberal" in God's eyes. Those are terms we use to add shades of gray to His spectrum of black-and-white, absolute truth. Someone isn't "conservative" or "liberal," they are either right or they are wrong. And it's my goal to do what's right and encourage others to do the same, regardless of what that might mean for the labels they've been wearing in church for so long.

And so I came back to school last Sunday afternoon and I decided that I would find a church where it could be about what I put into it instead of what I got out of it. So where did I go? You'll get a kick out of this one: the nursing home down the street. They had a service at two o' clock in the afternoon. So I showed up in my holey jeans and unwashed button-down I'd been wearing that weekend, and the little, blue-haired old women accepted me just fine. They were just glad that I was there. There were only three of them. The minister from one of the local churches was so excited to see fresh faces that he was encouraged too; he even had me pass out the Lord's Supper to the old women. We sat and chatted, we sang songs, we read Scripture and prayed and I walked away feeling recharged. And it wasn't at all because I went to some magnificent or glorious or elaborate service; it was because I connected with other people who were trying to connect with God.

And I think that's what church really is.

Flood of Justice

The Friday before last I committed myself to a fast.

It's not the first time I've done it; it hopefully won't be the last. But it was definitely the first one that I ever felt like I did "right." I have given up food for longer periods of time than even one day, but this day... was different. Let me back up for a second.

The Thursday before last was bad. I have gotten so involved at my school that by the time the week starts drawing to a close, I'm pretty much stressed out and exhausted. What's worse is that I have probably gone a whole week, by that point, without really taking in any of God's word for myself or spending much time in prayer (that makes me a horrible person, I know, I know). And the Thursday before last was no exception. So when it came to a close, I was pretty much already closed; closed to God, closed to sensitivity to Him, closed to holding on tight to faith and love and hope. I was struggling, and I was failing. It wasn't a good day.

So I decided to fast on Friday. Normally when I would fast I would devote the day to reading and praying, but since I was feeling still sort of numb to God, I didn't do that. Instead, I gave up everything: food, TV, books, computer... Everything, and decided that I would just try and live the day as I thought God would see best, even if I couldn't feel Him. As C.S. Lewis talked about in Screwtape Letters, the biggest threat to evil is when a man does not see, feel, or hear God, and yet still follows Him despite it all.

So when a person is fasting... what is it that God really wants?

Isaiah 58 comes to mind. A true fast isn't about what you give up... so many Christians think that being a "good Christian" is about what you give up... but a true fast is about what you DO. And in that chapter, He says that He wants those who fast to bring forth justice to the peoples, and to be broken and humble in their hearts. So I left town after my first class and went to Jackson to look for ways to bring justice to people, to be humbled, to be... Him.

I decided I'd let God guide me. And He did. I pulled into a warehouse labeled "RIFA" ("Regional Inter-Faith Association") and parked my car in sort of a sketchy-looking neighborhood with a sketchy looking crowd standing around. But I smiled and got out and walk into the warehouse. I met Shaun, the director of RIFA, and immediately we started talking about ways to get involved. He showed me around the warehouse, and I got to meet several volunteers; but what was awesome was to go back into the soup kitchen, where I'll be working more than anywhere else, and meet the people there. It was a truly humbling experience. I watched the director of the soup kitchen standing at the door, smiling, shaking hands, and saying "God bless" to everyone who left. I watched the lady serving food behind the counter look at me in the eye and just give one of the biggest, most genuine, and yet snaggle-toothed smiles that I have ever seen. It was a great thing to be back in an environment where I felt I could make a difference.

When I left RIFA, I wasn't content to be finished with my adventure yet. I pulled my car further down the street into the Farmer's Market and parked it there. I walked around, talked to the farmers and the "interesting" people that were hanging out by them, bought a few tomatoes and peppers (just because I was fasting doesn't mean I wasn't thinking about making omelettes for Saturday morning), and spent a lot of time talking to one farmer who was obviously a very lonely, old man. Eventually I walked back to my car and... it wouldn't start.

Oh God, why are you doing this to me in this part of town...

But looking back, it was a blessing. I was approached by a ragged looking man on a bicycle, asking if he could bum a few cigarettes off of me. I told him I didn't have any, and he was pretty sad about that. But I gave him some money and wished him well, and that cheered him up. And yes, he probably went and used that money for cigarettes or alcohol, but I am not troubled by this thought; I gave him the money, and what he does with it is his business. It was my blessing to him, and I hope he uses it wisely, but whether he does or not will not stop me from trying to be Jesus to somebody.

I went back to school for my afternoon class, then packed up the bare minimum of stuff from my dorm and went home. My parents were in England, and I thought the house would be a great place to unwind and reflect. That night, I took three naps, and in between each nap I read Scripture. I really started connecting with God that night. It's hard not to when you've been trying to show His love to people all day and then you open His word; it's like the connection becomes a little easier.

At about 12:30 AM, when the fast was officially over, I woke up and went to Huddle House. I sat at the table and read Scripture while I ate my eggs, toast, and hashbrowns. The waitress was kind, and talked with me for a bit about me reading Scripture. As I left, I left her a tip that was more than my meal and wrote "God bless" at the top of the check. She saw it, and looked at me as I was walking out the door. I just smiled. And she smiled back; a very real smile.

If you haven't ever heard it, I recommend that you listen to (or at least read the words to) "Instead of a Show" by Jon Foreman.

And if you hear it (or read the words) and think that it's idealistic, or liberal, or anything other than the truth, check yourself: its from Zechariah 7. The Lord doesn't want your showy worship any longer; He wants your heart broken, and for you to spread a flood of justice to the people in His world who have been overlooked for far too long.

Start

Let me tell you why this blog exists before I go any further.

This blog is a continuation of another. From May 28 - August 2, 2008, I kept a blog at honduruss.blogspot.com to track my growth and adventures as an intern for TORCH Missions in the third world country of Honduras. That blog was started as a journal that I was going to turn in for college credit for my experiences. I published it on the web to let my parents and my sister know what I was doing. I never expected it to take off like it did. I started getting Facebook messages from people that I didn't even know talking to me about one of my latest posts, and my church back home even picked up on the blog and started keeping up with it, as well as the minister using it for small group Bible studies and even preaching from it in the pulpit. I never wanted to post any of it for my glory or recognition, so it was a little embarrassing at first to hear that so many people were reading it; but I realized that they were reading and benefiting from it because I was just telling the world how I was finding God and how He was displaying His love for others, so I don't think I saw the blog as a prideful journal to boast about anymore at all.

And that's where this blog comes in. I want to share with anyone who picks up on this where I am seeing God today, and how I am realizing His love and His purpose and His mission in my everyday life. Because I am done with Honduras; but I am never done with faith. And as long as I have faith, I have reason to serve God and others, and hopefully inspire you to do the same.

When I came home from Honduras, I started seeing things a lot differently. I see the church differently, and I know that I'll share some of that with you in future blog posts; I see people differently too; I see poverty differently. I made a commitment within myself to never go past a homeless person and not try and do something about it; I made a commitment to try and really connect with people, and in so doing, shine a little bit of Heaven's light into this dark Hell that we've made out of a broken world through our sins.

And so I write this blog: a blog about a blind person trying to open his eyes, trying to find clarity and have Christ's vision, and trying to lead the church that he perceives to have become so blind to do the same. It may be offensive; it may step on toes. But if it challenges you to grow, then it's worth it. It may sound at times like I'm boasting in myself, but let me assure you up front that I think I am the sinner of sinners, I am unworthy to even be a Christian, so any good that I may do does not come from me but from the God I serve; so praise His name, not mine.

Enjoy.