the way is made by walking

2020… what a year!

I think historians will be wrestling out ways to express the overall shape of these past twelve months. Sometimes it feels more like we’ve collectively lived a decade in this single spin around the sun.

Think about it for a second. If you could use one single word to describe this ‘brick through a window’ of a year, what would it be? How would you sum up all the brushfires, murder hornets, swarming locusts, political intrigues and global revisions?

I’m beginning to think this year has really just been an extended Charlie Brown cartoon. We seem perpetually stuck in the frame where Lucy invites Charlie to kick the football. Invariably, despite all her promises and cajoling, Lucy always pulls the football away at the last second sending him reeling across the scene. Like Charlie, it’s as if the world is screaming one collective “AAUGH!” as we hurdle back to the hard, unyielding earth.

2020… what a year!

A Rosary of Themes

Ironically, I started this year with a word in mind. Every year we pray for God to set a theme for our family. We take the first few months of the new year, seeking the voice of God for a word, a prism through which to pray and read and walk.

Over the years its been amazing to look back and see how God was preparing us for the life-shaping and life-shaking events to come. In 2007, I started writing down each years theme, watching them develop and form into seasons. That year of growth was followed by a much needed year of restoration (2008). They flowed like winter slowly melting into spring. 2010 was the year we made contact. Our feet touched African soil and a summer season burst into brilliant life and color.

When we set faithfulness as our theme for 2015 could we have ever expected to walk through the most difficult days and darkest nights we’d ever experienced. Days when I struggled to find clarity and energy. And yet, undergirding it all was that year’s theme God had spoken to us: faithfulness.

In my journal now rests a rosary of themes, beads of experience. Looking back, we really should have seen it coming when we felt the Lord saying “Transformation” as we prayed for 2020.

This year has upturned plans and strategies. It’s trampled underfoot goals and intentions. And throughout these days and months we’ve felt the transforming power of the Holy Spirit at work, revealing Christ’s glory in our weakness and creating space for us to celebrate His beauty!

Praise God for this year is throwing away the cookie-cutters of ministry, the ways of doing ministry that have become ingrained and inflexible (Psalm 104.24). Thank God this year is disconnecting us from the plug-and-play systems that undermine the Holy Spirit’s call to innovate and pray (Romans 12.2). Today, let’s extol His name as we commend His ways, and not our own, to a new generation (Psalm 145.1). Let’s rejoice that He is replacing our tired attempts to repeat what He’s done in other places and times with new things we could never have imagined (Isaiah 43.19)!

2020… what a year!

A Way Made by Walking

Closing the book on this year and cautiously stepping into 2021 I’m reminded of the words of the Spanish poet Antonio Machado, “The way is made by walking.”

Friend, its time to stop looking for the ‘tried-and-true-paths’ that promise success and simply follow Jesus into the unknown. It’s time to step into the new thing He is preparing for us. But make no mistake this will require trust. Perhaps that should be this next years theme: Trust. Trust that in the dark His command is a lamp showing us the way (Proverbs 6:23). Trust that in the unknown and unforeseeable His word is a light that reveals our path (Psalm 119.105).

This path may lead us deeper into the wilderness. If it does, praise the One that led us there. This new year’s journey may cut against the current of those around us ready for life ‘to go back to normal.’ If it does, trust Him all the more (Proverbs 3.5). Each step is building up our most holy faith. Every day on this pilgrimage is a new opportunity to stoke the fire of our love for God and one another.

This way is made by walking. 2021… what a year!

“Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen.” (Jude 24-25)

of fathers and sons

Eight hundred young men crowded the street. That’s how the story goes. The space outside the Hotel Montana was so flooded with young men from across Madrid that the police had to be called to try and disperse them.

In the days before this strange mass in the city street, a man had come to town in search of his estranged son. As Hemingway tells it in The Capital of the World, this father had placed an advertisement in the newspaper saying “Paco meet me at the Hotel Montana Noon Tuesday. All is forgiven. Papa.” One by one, tens, then hundreds of sons converged and swallowed up the gray in search of restoration.

There is something uniquely beautiful about the relationship between fathers and sons. Most sons grow up wanting to be like their dads. They navigate the years being saturated with their fathers’ worldviews, mannerisms and behaviors until they reflect their fathers as much inside as out. Time is pivotal for fathers and sons.

The Tears of a Prophet

Lately, our family Bible studies have been getting more interesting. It’s like watching a flower emerge, a time-lapse of an emerging bud encased in green, slowly unfolding with brilliant life and vibrant color. As we retrace the steps of Scripture again and again, engaging the well known stories and forgotten details, I never cease to marvel at the ever deepening questions and reflections our children bring.

In one short year, I’ve watched as my son’s mind has expanded like an exploding universe, filled with wonder and mystery, studying God’s word. The world of the Bible is coming alive to him and he’s increasingly finding his story in it.

The other night, as we sat and talked together about the role of God’s people to be a kingdom of priests for the nations (Exodus 19.6), his face clouded over. He, in his very Henry way, meekly entered the family discussion. In his clear and precise voice, he put forward a question his eyes revealed he knew the answer to: “Does this mean that [the people around us] don’t go to heaven?”

It was a heartbreaking moment as Elise and I gently said that yes, without Christ they face a Christ-less future. His eyes burst with tears and he buried his face in the arm of the couch. His mind fired like rockets with the faces and names of friends who don’t know Jesus. For the first time I watched as my eight year old son wept for the lost. In that moment, our entire family was broken anew for the unreached around us. The rest of the evening was filled with tears and intercession. And it challenged me to ask myself when was the last time I wept for the lostness of the unreached? Time is pivotal for sons and fathers.

A Life of Collected Memories

When I told my father about this particular family devotion he said, “you’ll remember that time for the rest of your life.” He’s right. That moment will become a memorial stone in our family story. When we gaze back against the horizon of time it will stand out with many others, across a promised land marked by altars, where we’ve met with God.

So much of life is spent in collecting. We arrange our closets with the collections of clothes that best describe us. We fill our libraries with books that reveal the inner workings of our minds. We saturate our walls with art and decor that create externally what we long for within. Our collections tell the world who we are because most collections are visible.

And this is what we find in the Gospels: the story of a Son and His Father. They are the collected memories of disciples who watched the love of Father and Son embrace the world. The author of Hebrews puts it this way: “Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power,” (Hebrews 1.1-3a).

As Christmas draws near, this time of year we celebrate the birth of Jesus “who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men,” (Philippians 2.6-7). Time and time again in the Gospels we see a Father smiling on His Son. We hear a Dad cheering from the stands, each victory a new milestone, each challenge producing another memorial stone.

Time is pivotal for fathers and sons because, through time, God the Father and Christ the Son are restoring the lost. Through time, the triune King of Kings is recreating and redeeming all who respond to His call. And we, His kingdom of priests, are equipped by His Spirit to serve the widow and care for the orphan, to care for the stranger and walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8). We are called to weep with others in their brokenness and invite them to the Lord’s Table (Romans 12.15; 2 Samuel 9.13).

In this life journey we can collect memories, beautiful milestones of restored relationship and sacred memorials of salvation. Our lives are the media through which the Father proclaims to the world, “Meet with me here at this time. In Christ, All is forgiven. Papa.”

sand and a practical theology of watermelons

I’m not sure I can even begin to express how happy Elise, the kids and I are to be home. We’d barely been home an hour when the neighborhood kids came knocking at the door inviting our kids to play. It was like no time had passed at all. The only visual change was that they’re all now wearing face masks.

Being away from home during the harmattan season (when the desert sands are lifted out of the Sahara and send rain down across the rest of Africa) our days have been marked by three things: dusting, sweeping, and rearranging. Each room, from floor to ceiling. Each shelf, from right to left. In the renewing process, we also had a few new things like an Instant Pot for the kitchen, a new painting for the office, and maybe a few dozen books to be sprinkled throughout the house.

Each completed room left us with a sense of accomplishment; every space, freshly cleaned and arranged and ready, a physical reminder of purpose and potential.

Right now, I feel like I’m engaged in a similar grand-scale deep clean in my brain. What does church planting look like in the current global realities that make it difficult for the existing Church to gather let alone engage new works among unreached peoples in churchless neighborhoods? What dust has settled on our concepts of establishing new communities? Where has the sand of time piled up, obscuring our view of God’s Kingdom? How can we rearrange our practices and mindsets to grasp the movement of the Holy Spirit?

Remembering Faith, Love and Hope
The other day our family gathered with fellow workers and together we remembered a church planted under less than ideal circumstances. After less than a month the planting team was forced to abandon their new work due to persecution, and were unable to return. Eventually one of them was able to travel back to the city and meet with the new believers. The team was thrilled when he returned sharing with them of a vibrant, maturing and growing fellowship of believers!

The missionary team, Paul, Silas and Timothy sat down and penned a letter of rejoicing that has been passed down through time to us as 1 Thessalonians. For these church planters, the markers of health were the Thessalonians’ “work of faith, labor of love, and steadfastness of hope” (1 Thessalonians 1:3).

As we restart our church planting adventure here, connecting with our national church leadership, gathering with Bible school students and seeking to navigate our way into unreached neighborhoods, we dream of a day when, like Paul, we celebrate the faith, love and hope of Senegalese Christians. We wait expectantly for these new communities of men, women and children as we work to create space for them (Psalm 148.11‐14).

A Practical Theology of Watermelons
Early this year I was challenged afresh by an illustration from John Lo. He writes, “The interesting thing about seedless watermelons is that while they’re great for consumers, they’re terrible for farmers. The lack of seeds makes for great eating, but this requires farmers to buy fresh seed each time they’re planted. They’re bred for consumption but not for reproduction. Is the twenty-first-century church a seedless watermelon?”

How often in our streamlining processes—whether in life, business or ministry—do we end up excising the very thing we will need for the future. We celebrate what God is doing in the Church but we fail to carry those blessings out into the nations. We breed a Christ-lite culture that is easily digested but yields a blunted future that lacks transformation.

Home again, we are resetting our sights on planting three churches simultaneously. I am deeply aware that this is only possible as the Lord draws together millions of details. To watch people talking on social media, 2020 will be a year remembered in infamy for the myriad calamities discovered each month. But, could it not also be the year the soil of our lives was turned, the fields of our lives rearranged, and the seeds of revival planted?

Life Together
Dreaming outrageous dreams beyond my wildest imagination, I am always humbly driven back to what they mean for life together. This walk with Christ is not a solitary journey, but a true pilgrimage along the same road with others made in His image. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “The person who loves their dream of community will destroy community, but the person who loves those around them will create community.”

Before we go too far, strike the rock and become frustrated that we are unable to force God’s visions into existence, let us be stirred by Paul’s example (Numbers 20.10-13). Let us rejoice, remembering what God has done, resting in the belief that He will do even greater things in the future. Let us go forward celebrating the splendor of our King, and let us do it together! Let us remember one another’s work of faith, labor of love and steadfast hope in Christ.

Let’s not be swept away in the sands of talents and special skills somehow believing that God can only use the strong and wise (1 Corinthians 1.27) Let us not allow ourselves to become consumed by striving for success or asking, “What can we offer each other?” Instead let us ask, like Henri Nouwen, “Who can we be for each other?”

Maybe it’s time to pick up a broom and dustpan, invite a friend, and begin to clean up our minds; dust off the important things, rearrange our motivations and be renewed (Romans 12.2). May we, the people of God, be known by our love (John 13.35).

a hobbit's tale

I don’t know about you but my life has felt a lot like Bilbo Baggins’ lately. Beyond the basic similarities (short, stout, a homebody with a little too much toe hair), this season feels very much like a wild journey to there and back again.

Daphne is reading The Hobbit for her English class and that inspired me to dust off my copy and bring it along with us to the Gambia. How very apropos. I sat on the smiling coast as the comfortable Mr. Baggins had his world, ever so subtly, turned upside down. He was no longer in the shire, calm, green and relaxed. He found himself on an unanticipated adventure, dodging trolls and escaping goblins. In the dark depths of a mountain cave gone were the normal life experiences, as he pocketed a small, seemingly insignificant ring.

I’ve been wondering if while Tolkien penned his adventure the words of the Teacher ever echoed in his mind: “For certainly no one knows his time: like fish caught in a cruel net or like birds caught in a trap, so people are trapped in an evil time as it suddenly falls on them,” (Ecclesiastes 9.12).

One day we are moving through the paces of life with tea and sympathy in the shire, and the next the whole world is cautiously searching for the way out of the dark and endless mountain tunnels. And yet, of all the adventurers passing through the mountain paths only one emerged with a treasure. Only one came through with the ring that would determine the rest of the story.

What always stands out to me in the depths of the Misty Mountains is how accidentally Bilbo was separated from the others. Knocked down and out, his story diverged from the rest as he was left in a dark world with no way forward. In times like these, shrouded in the unknown when, in the words of Lin-Manuel Miranda, “when you're in so deep it feels easier to just swim down.”

In times like these we have no way to say which way is up, which way is out. We don’t have the path or the answer.

The Surprise of Finding More
Right now all of us are prayerfully searching for our next step in the dark. What a blessing! In times like these, when all we have left is our blind faith, not only does God lead us toward our next step, but we can discover more in our journey. More than just a stay-at-home order but a blessing of friendship and family. More than just a gollum in the shadows but a ring. In blind faith we find more.

More than just quarantines and tiger kings. More than sheltering in place and aimless waiting. More than mere social distancing and anxiety. In the dark unknown where our faith is pressed against the wall we can find a crucible for our souls and renewed purpose for our lives.

In the dark unknown

where our faith is pressed against the wall we can find a crucible for our souls and renewed purpose for our lives.

Friend, this time can be more. It can be the solitude and solidarity with Christ our souls hunger for. A season not marred by fear but marked by faith because He is our God and He is our strength (Isaiah 41.10). This strange time can be the silence we need. A quiet space where we cease to be conformed by the misshapen world around us and slowly become mentally transformed into the likeness of Christ (Romans 12.2). These lost days can be a family pilgrimage where we learn to walk as He walked (1 John 2.6).

The Way of a Family
By now it should be no surprise to you that I love symbols and sacraments. I love to see mysteries unfold out of the mundane. Like the body and blood of Jesus in bread and wine. Like the death and resurrection found in the waters of baptism. Like the shell on the pilgrim’s path.

Every time our family ventures out to the beach we come back with pockets filled with all kinds of shells. We make them into art, jewelry and decorations around the house. There is something beautiful about shells, especially scallop shells.

Scallop shells for centuries have served as symbols for men and women on pilgrimage. So while we were in the Gambia I took the family to the beach to hunt for shells. I wanted us to take fun pictures with them as we walked with Jesus through the Holy Week.

How much more meaningful those shells became as our adventure took on a greater, more global, ambiguity. Far from home but not lost. Blind in the dark but not sightless. Pilgrims on the way. Our little African shells are now on an adventure home, displaced and yet hopeful, in the unknown yet knowing that God is doing a work in our pilgrim hearts.

If you are feeling this way today rest assured you are not alone. We are walking with you. And take comfort. We are not the first to walk these mountain paths.

Far from home

but not lost. Blind in the dark but not sightless. Pilgrims on the way.

From There and Back Again
Jesus was no stranger to the dust of the pilgrim’s path or global events.

Before he was born Jesus was carried in his mother’s womb down to Zechariah and Elizabeth’s home in Judea (Luke 1.39), and Caesar Augustus’ decree set off an empire-wide adventure that shook up the entire Roman world (Luke 2.1-5). About the time Jesus would have been toddling and forming simple phrases he was swept up once again by his parents for his first international road trip (Matthew 2.13-15). His childhood was spent as a stranger in a strange land, a refugee awaiting the day his family could return to their homeland.

Did Joseph and Mary ever wonder, “How did we end up here? How long will this time last? When will this road home lead us home?” Do you find yourself asking the same questions? Take heart, you aren’t where you are by accident.

Mary and Joseph did not journey empty handed. Their bags had treasures whose purpose were not yet clear. Those costly gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh surely came in handy setting up their new life in Egypt, but the richest depths of their meaning were still obscured by time (Matthew 2.11).

Their family pilgrimage was just beginning. The long unseen road still lay ahead.

Toward Transformation
Friend, we are all making our way through this misty mountain together, but let us not miss the gold ring that awaits us on the journey. What was God speaking to your heart before this season began? What was the seed His Spirit planted that you now have dedicated time to cultivate?

I won’t begin to say that we will understand everything that is happening right now, as a world, as a people, as a family. But perhaps, if we trust and believe, we will find in our next steps, not only the gold we easily recognize, but also rich spice for our worship and aromatic resin for guidance as Jesus directs our lives toward the cross.

If we are faithful in this pilgrimage now, investing in the gifts He is giving us, we will be better equipped and prepared than ever before to see this world increasingly redeemed and transformed! And what a joy we don’t walk this road alone! What a joy that we are on this adventure together! Here’s to the next step!