Encountering "The Irresistible Revolution ..."

We United Methodists in the Holston Conference gather each year in June at Lake Junaluska, a peaceful spot in the mountains of North Carolina. There, we worship, do the business of the church, ordain new elders and deacons, license local pastors, and "fix" pastoral appointments. (The latter is what we call the final step in appointing pastors to their congregational charges, but I always consider the chosen word a bit troubling.)

We also engage in something we call "Christian conferencing," where we talk with others about matters of worship, mission and discipleship. There is also probably more than a little unChristian conferencing going on, too, which likely troubles the Bishop ... not to mention Jesus.

Some of the sessions can get a little tedious, so I use the time to work on sermon planning, getting tips from others in ministry, pray, and do a little reading.

It was the evening of Day 2 of the Holston Annual Conference when I came back to my room after spending some time chatting about movies and BBQ with some of The Meadow folk. I decided there was nothing worth watching on the tube, so I picked up Shane Claiborne’s book, “Irresistible Revolution: living as an ordinary radical.” I could have stayed up all night reading it; in fact, I probably should have. It would have made being awake off and on more interesting.

The reason I was awake is that I started thinking, and that’s a dangerous thing for me. One big question began rolling around in the gray matter: “What happened to me? How did I go from experiencing Jesus to experiencing church?”

Don’t misunderstand me, Shane's “Revolution” didn’t bring up feelings of guilt as much as it did images of the years after I first encountered the Savior -- images such as:

• Going with my wife and children to deliver food to The Projects and others in need through the FISH program.
• Taking in a homeless guy I met at a Christian coffee house in inner-city Knoxville.
• Challenging some Christians protesting “The Last Temptation of Christ” about how they could picket a movie, but ignore a guy not 50 yards away who was holding something like a “Will work for food” sign … and then getting him a motel room for the night.
• Explaining to my wife that I had to buy lunch that day rather than eat my bagged lunch because I had left it beside a man sleeping under an overpass near work in downtown Knoxville.

Somehow, I had moved from the days of wondering how the church could build Jesus Cathedrals and family life centers when Jesus never said to do that, to helping to lobby for one in my home church.

Somehow, I moved from being critical of those who are “playing church,” to actually playing church.

Somehow, I moved from being a Jesus freak to being a church freak.

When did that happen?

How did that happen?

More importantly, what am I going to do about it?

Bishop Swanson preached a wonderful "Holy Ghost rant," as one of my mentors called it, that paralells some of what Shane's getting at: We need to be about the main thing that Jesus said we should be about. Love. We need to particularly love the poor, the oppressed, the downhearted. We need to seek out those ragtag sheep ... particularly the one who wandered away.

The more we pastors stay in the holy huddle, the greater the tears of Jesus.

I hear the cry of revolution and repentance in my heart.

Will I answer the call?

Dare I answer it?

Dare I not?

Grace and peace ...