As I finished my brief, but deeply sincere prayer, something strange happened. I felt something in my chest. Words. I felt words, not in my mind, but in my chest. Words I wanted to speak. I felt I had to say these words to someone: Come with me. Come with me and you won’t get cheated. Come with me. It was a mystical experience — a mystical experience I couldn’t deny or ignore. The next weekend I preached a sermon entitled “Come With Me.” Here’s a quote from my sermon notes: Many Christians start out with Jesus but end up cheated. Instead of the endless adventure of searching out the mystery of Christ, they settle for something else. They get cheated. Come with me. I promise you won’t get cheated. We’re going to explore the fullness of Christ. Come with me. That’s what I was saying way back in 2000. I would return to my come with me theme over and over. The only problem was that I didn’t have the resources to search much beyond the limited confines of Charismatic Christian circles. I wanted to explore the mysteries of Christ, but most of what I knew came from the watered-down world of consumer Christianity. I was saying “come with me” and sincerely trying to go somewhere, but I hadn’t yet found the door to the wider world of richer Christianity. It would be four more years before Dallas Willard would kick open that door with his Divine Conspiracy. It wasn’t until I learned to travel in the company of wise guides like Irenaeus, Athanasius, Gregory of Nyssa, Maximus the Confessor, St. Francis of Assisi, Julian of Norwich, Søren Kierkegaard, Fyodor Dostoevsky, George MacDonald, Karl Barth, Hans Urs von Balthasar, Abraham Joshua Heschel, Simone Weil, Thomas Merton, John Howard Yoder, René Girard, Frederick Buechner, Eugene Peterson, Walter Brueggemann, Wendell Berry, Kalistos Ware, Stanley Hauerwas, Richard Rohr, N.T. Wright, Scot McKnight, Miroslav Volf, David Bentley Hart, and so many others, that I learned to find my way well enough that “come with me” made any real sense. But once I found the way, I hit the road and didn’t look back. What surprised me was that so many didn’t join us in the journey. No doubt I was naïve. I suppose I should have known better, but it really did surprise me. And it hurt deeply. I honestly thought more would come with me than did. In time many new people did join us in the quest for a more authentic expression of the kingdom of Jesus, but so many who had been with us for years, people who were close friends, decided it was just too much change. It scared them. At a time when the culture wars were becoming more strident and divisive, a move toward greater ecumenism and a more generous attitude toward others was viewed with suspicion. So they left for places where they could cling to familiar themes. In retrospect I understand. I did what I had to do and they did what they had to do. Time heals all wounds, but the process can be very painful. The lesson I learned is that within a culture of static certitude it’s almost impossible for a pastor to make any significant changes without paying a steep price for it. I also learned that it’s worth it to pay that price.
Posted on: Thu, 20 Nov 2014 15:47:51 +0000
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