Keep Pointing in Waterloo

town hall meeting

why are we putting ourselves through this?

From time to time, as I see people come and go from our campus - some who are just visiting, and others who head over (or back) to the Cedar Falls campus, I ponder this question:

"Why are we putting ourselves through this?"

Why, when there is a more comfortable, more attractive campus just 8 miles down the road, are we sticking it out at a middle school through the cold of winter and the heat of summer, up at the crack of dawn, hours after the service ends, serving in several different roles, on more weekends than off, and not seeing immediate results every single time we walk in the doors?

Why would we think that people who come our way will stay?

Is this really gonna work?

Is it all worth it?

I got a reminder from God today with the definitive answer.

As a staff, at all of our campuses, we are beginning to read this book called "Generosity: Moving Toward Life that is Truly Life" by Gordon MacDonald.  On Day 2 of his study reflections, he quotes 2 Corinthians 8:8-9:

I am not commanding you, but I want to test the sincerity of your love by comparing it with the earnestness of others. 9 For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.

And then, he has this to say about the passage:

Imagine sitting in the congregation when Paul's letter to the Corinthian people was first read.  Are the Corinthian Christians squirming as he pokes and prods their spiritual resilience? They were a boastful, self-confident people.  They reveled in their size, their accumulative talents, the sophistication of their people.

But I don't think that's how those of us at Waterloo would feel if the letter had been read to us.  Rather, we'd say "Yeah... that describes it.  We became poor, hoping that through our sacrifice the people in Waterloo who lack Jesus might become rich with him."

I like being poor in this way.  Sure, I'd like to see more people becoming rich because of it.  I don't want to be poor for the sake of being poor.  Nevertheless: I like the poor version of me better than the rich version.  And I'm starting to see the results in my personal life: more desperate devotion, more natural evangelism, and a deeper hunger for mission.

So, today, take pride in your poverty, Waterloo campus.  God will (and is!) using it to make our community rich in him.

stop telling me what you believe

I am reading from 1 John today, and came across a verse again that is becoming a theme for this season of my life, and the season that our campus is in.  Here's how John, one of the First Twelve, lays it out in his first letter:

For this is the message you heard from the beginning: We should love one another.

We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love each other.

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.

Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.

1 John 3:11, 14, 16, 18 (NIV)

See the flow here:

• Jesus told us to love.  
  
  
• The only way that we can really know that we really know Jesus is if we are actually loving one another in the same way that Jesus loved us.  
  
  
• Jesus-love has a very specific fingerprint that distinguishes it from all other types of love: it is sacrificial. 
  
  
• Sacrificial Jesus-love is not a feeling.  It is an action.

Which forces me to ask myself this question:

What if we measured our faith not by how we're feeling, or how well our small group was going, or how many people were attending our church, but rather first and foremost by what we are doing to sacrificially love one another? 

Take a moment today or tomorrow, maybe in a time of prayer, or in your personal devotions, to do a spiritual audit with that question as your only lens.  Then write down what you see.  

But, don't stop there.  Don't just read what you wrote, or tell someone about it.  

Rather: do something about it.

what are people hearing about you?

One of the things that we're encouraged as a staff to do at Prairie Lakes is to plan and protect monthly spiritual retreats.  Now, we may not fit one in every month, but it is a great target to shoot for, and wonderful that we've made it a part of our culture.

So I'm taking mine this afternoon.  As I write this, actually.  I'm camping out at the Hy-Vee on Logan Ave. - kind of a natural gathering point for people in my neighborhood.  

Prayerfully, I gave God the freedom to speak to me.  As I opened up my YouVersion reading plan, I'm in Colossians 1.  I want to read to you one of the first things Paul says there:

3 We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, 4 because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all God's people—5 the faith and love that spring from the hope stored up for you in heaven and about which you have already heard in the true message of the gospel 6 that has come to you.

He's thanking God for what he's heard about the church in Colossae.  And what has he heard?  Well, first, about their faith in Jesus, expressed in how they are loving God's people in their community.  And second, he's heard about the faith and love that spring up from the hope they have in the gospel.

That's what he's hearing about them. That's what this church is known for: their faith in Jesus, which is inspiring a renewed sense of hope in his gospel, which is being expressed in love for people.

Not their cool worship.  Not their relevant programs.  Not their growing attendance.  Not their building.  Their faith, hope, and love.

Man, that's convicting.  And inspiring.  I want a faith like that.  I want a faith that people are hearing about, and hearing about for the right reasons.  I want a faith that is inspiring a new hope in Jesus' gospel as I see it change me.  I want a faith that is filling me with a renewed desire to love God's people, present and yet-to-be.

And I want to be part of a church that is known for that.  I want this community to be hearing about our faith, hope, and love for the people of God.

UPDATE:

So, in between me finishing that last sentence, and writing this one, here's what has happened at the Logan Ave. Hy-Vee.  While I was working on this post, I overheard a woman at the table next to me on the phone, mentioning to someone to pray really hard for something.  So, I mustered up some courage, walked over there, and asked her if I could pray for what she was praying for.

As it turns out,

she goes to Prairie Lakes,

Been to both campuses,

works at Hoover,

was praying for her daughter,

who walked up 3 minutes into our conversation,

and we prayed together.

Faith, hope, and love.  You just can't go wrong.  Put it into action today.  You will not be disappointed.

this weekend @ Waterloo

This weekend, Pastor John will be returning from his July sabbatical and kicking off a new series that we're calling "In Their Own Words."  He'll be interviewing several people that you should know from right here in Iowa, and talking with them about their stories - starting with our favorite local news anchor, Ron Steele.  

Hope you're able to join us!  See you this weekend.

learn by doing [failing]

My wife and I love the house that we just moved into.  Love it.  Love the neighborhood.  Love having more space.  Love everything about it.

But, of course, along with a new home come new projects.  A lot of them.  Our most recent project?  Installing the new appliances that we purchased for the kitchen - including an over-the-range microwave.

I'll spare you the details of how that project went.  Suffice it to say: it is securely (I hope) hanging over the range underneath the cabinet.

Now, I am not the most handy of people. As far as homeowners go, I'd say I'm right there in the middle.  Delightfully average. Basically: I know just enough to get me into trouble.

Surprisingly, however, this project went pretty well - at least, compared to my first five years of doing these type of projects on a house.  I didn't seem to make as many big mistakes as I normally would, and met most of the challenges that were presented  (plaster, new outlet, demo-ed part of the cabinet) with solutions that actually made sense.

As I reflect on that - the fact that I was able to get that project done with less help, less time, less frustration, and less mistakes - the reason behind my success is obvious: I'm more experienced.  I've learned as I've done those types of projects over the last 5 years.

But that word "experienced" is deceptive, isn't it?  "Experienced" sounds so wise, so polished, so... well, experienced. 

But really, "experienced" is just a different way of saying: "Failed a lot.  Learned a lot."

Let me make a little bit of a leap here.  I think that in many respects, this story describes our current season at Waterloo.  18 months into the journey, we have learned a lot.  Failed a lot, to be sure.  But learned a lot.  At least, that's how I feel about my part in this.  Failed a lot.  Learned a lot.  Became more experienced.

Which reminds me of Paul's encouragement to the Galatians:

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.
Galatians 6:9-10

I can see the harvest coming.  I can.  Especially now that I'm in Waterloo, driving in it everyday once again.  

• I can see people longing for community.
• I can see a new location come more clearly into focus.
• I can see people begin to go on prayer walks in urban Waterloo.
• I can see the door at East High begin to open further.

Now, that's not all I see.  I see all of the past failures and present frustrations, questions, and fatigue as well.  

Nevertheless: let's not become weary in doing good.  Harvest time is coming.

emerging from the fog

Life has its foggy spots, doesn't it?

I remember driving one early December up to Lansing, IA for our yearly deer hunting trip.  It was one of those late fall/early winter weird weather days: not quite cold enough to snow, but not quite warm enough for a thunder storm.  As we were driving up the increasingly windy, normall scenic highways along the Mississippi, the time turned from evening to night, and the weather turned from overcast to suddenly foggy.

It was a thick fog, too - the kind that looks like a wall standing out in front of you completely hiding what is behind it.  For a moment,  you could clearly see the pavement and double yellow lines illuminated by your headlights in front of you.  But then suddenly, you were in the fog, straining to see anything beyond just a few short feet.

This summer, my family has been in a fog.  For us, it was the fog of selling our house and buying another.  We knew that God was calling us to do it.  We believed we were following after his clear call.  But for about 10 weeks, we were in a fog.  Navigating the marketing, the offer, the inspections, the updates, the negotiations, the financing... each presenting numerous challenges, pitfalls, demands, questions, and anxieties.  For moments, we could see a little ways out ahead of us, but then suddenly... back into the fog.  

The funny thing about fog is this: it doesn't really weigh much of anything.  But man, is it heavy.  And: it's easy to begin to feel like nothing really exists outside of the fog.

Now that we are getting settled into our new place, the fog is clearing, and we are beginning to see the light again - and feel light again.  As I sit and think about this for a moment, I'm struck by a few realities:

Life with God is, more often than we'd like to admit, foggy.  It just is.  If life with God is a life of faith (Eph. 2:8-9), and faith primarily deals with things that are unseen (Heb. 11:1), then you can bet you're going to be spending some significant time in the fog - in places that just aren't as clear as you'd like them to be, through seasons that just aren't as light as you'd prefer.  From Abraham, to Moses, to Gideon, God's people are constantly asking him: "How do I really know that you'll really work all of this out the way that you said you would?"

And I am struck with another reality: Life with God will always require an uncomfortable level of obedience fueled by a costly, sacrificial faith.  Outside of the fog, the roadsigns that tell us we're heading in the right direction are clearly visible: peace, joy, contentment, purpose.  But in the fog, when those roadsigns are hidden, what will keep you confident enough to continue is this sobering realization: you can't see, you don't know, and the only way that any of this works is if God is, is good, and is acting on your your behalf.  Your faith in the goodness and power of God is your only roadsign.

And that's not comfortable.  It's not a "peace in the storm" feeling.  We didn't go to bed every night for these last ten weeks resting in that thought, arms extended in the air like some sort of CD cover on a worship album.  On the contrary: it was hard.  It was costly.  It wass risky.  It was uncomfortable.  It was not a warm blanket.  It was a cross. 

In the fog, you die to your need to have it all figured out and to see it clearly, and you decide to keep obeying.  Now, sometimes you disobey.  Sometimes you give up.  Sometimes you fight with God and with one another.  Sometimes you buckle underneath the stress.  You do it imperfectly.  But through it you realize that God doesn't demand a perfect faith.  Rather: He uses your imperfect faith to perfect you through the grace he offers through the work of Jesus and the presence of his Holy Spirit.

And that's what I feel like today, for the first time in awhile.  I feel like I have been perfected by God during these last 10 weeks.  I look back on how I navigated through that, and see it frought with my own sin, but also replete with God's grace, strength, and faithfulness.  I feel today more confident in God's ability to act, preserve, protect, and change - not because of how I lived in the fog, but because of his ability to sustain me through it.

So, if you're in a fog today, take heart.  God has a purpose bigger than simply leading you through the fog.  He's capable of saving you through it.