These streets

In an instant my joy ride could turn into a heap of mangled flesh and steel. There are no rules on these streets, other than those of physics, and my little 150cc kick-start street bike with an absolute top speed of 50mph likes to push even those. At such speeds there is little room for error on these narrow streets, I have but one rule, “Never to fast to stop.” There is a fluid disorder in driving here, as the wind, dust, smells, and people fly by my stress melts into a blissful focus. It is here on these streets that I can feel the freedom I need to survive. These streets are unpredictable, at any time a rickshaw may choose to zig when it should zag. I am convinced it is genetically impossible for people here to have a sense of balance and drive a bicycle in a straight line. It is also on these streets that guns, nooses, and bombs have taken their victims, but now they are safe… mostly. I love these streets. They are full of life. There is always a plethora of activity to catch your eye, or at top speed, avoid. Bicycles, horse and donkey carts, motor rickshaws, big trucks, small trucks, military trucks, buses, and oh the motorcycles. When locals tell me weekly I drive too fast, but I have yet to have even a fender bender, I know I am doing something right. The bane of driving here are the speed bumps. I had my first real NDE, with one. I was driving, at normal speed, when one snuck up on me, they are camouflaged you know, and popped my front tire, I didn’t realize it at first, but then, the flat tire started trying to buck me off the back of the bike, great times for sure.
There are certain moments in life where it seems everything is perfect as it should be, the temperature is perfect, the light and colors surrounding you are just the right set of tones and hues, shadows are long but not dark. There is a sense of urgency, but all the time in the world to accomplish what ever needs to be done. When being relaxed in the midst of chaos is common. When life is fluid. I find those times most often on these streets. The back of a motorcycle is my comfort zone, a place I know. The vibrations of the engine, the smell of exhaust, the sense of balance on two wheels, I can direct my machine with the slightest shift of weight. I am vulnerable; there is nothing between me and asphalt, other than a little space, and my skills. I can fly through the chaos. Perfect moments on these streets…

Who is Jesus... Really?

I am not ashamed, I have no guilt, I allow no fear. I am “in” Christ I am a new creation. I am not timid. I keep no record of wrongs. I have been restored to righteousness. My sins are forgiven. This is who I am.
Sitting in a meeting recently words like theology, sinners, solemn, saved and authority were repeatedly used or I thought them. I was having a difficulty being silent in the midst of a group of people I felt sure would take me for a young man with much yet to learn. They want to see people turn to truth and have knowledge of whom Christ is and yet I at times wonder if we are speaking of the same person. There is far more to my faith than the “knowledge” that he is the Son of God. Even Satan knows that, and his demons tremble at the mention of His name.
The Jesus I know would have walked with his arms around his disciples, likely, being in a Middle Eastern culture, would have held their hands. He would have told jokes, played pranks, laughed. He was fierce with those who claimed faith, but were only religious. He was, and is, enraged by injustice, and broken hearted over the poor and destitute. He spoke into the hearts of those whose eyes he met. He died, not simply to fulfill a legal obligation, but to restore a relationship. He endured the cross for the Joy set before him. Why is it that so often we remember Him with solemn ceremonies and with paintings of stern faces? Children were drawn to him. He cried when friends died.
People love Jesus and are drawn to him, why are they not more often drawn to Christians?
In the meeting I was at the question was posed, “How can we bring our loved ones to Christ?” Everything inside of me wanted to say, “WE CAN’T!” Inside of every person is a small connection to Him, for some it is a small smoldering ember that they are trying desperately to extinguish to remove the uncomfortable anguish it causes. Our job is to be a breath that ignites it into a flame that gives comforting warmth and removes the cold emptiness that was once there. We cannot “lead” people to Christ. He is already there, waiting to be seen, to be felt, to be heard. You may ask, ”Where is this in Scripture?” There are two parables in particular that Jesus spoke about this exactly. The first was the parable of the good shepherd. The Good Shepherd leaves the ninety-nine sheep that are with him and goes looking for the one that has wandered away. The second is the parable of the Prodigal Son. The son of a rich man takes his inheritance before the father has died so as to live his own life, away from the family. After a time he has spent all of his fortune and is living with pigs, eating what he can of their food. He then returns and the father welcomes him back, having seen him from far away, running out to meet him. In the first example it shows that God is seeking out those that do not know better then to be lost, those that cannot find their way to the flock. In the second he is waiting, on the road we used to travel away from him, for our return. Jesus also said, “Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened to you.” Jesus is not waiting in some compound in an obscure location, but instead there are millions sitting in small rooms with their eyes closed, accepting their surroundings as life. If they seek out the door, they will find it; if they knock it will be opened. Jesus is always sitting there, waiting, calling out the direction and encouragement to come to his voice.
Our job is to be Christ; we are his body here on earth, to enter the rooms and lead people to the doors. We have the same authority he had; we have the gift of the Holy Spirit. We can say, “Your sins are forgiven.” The moment he died every sin that has ever and will ever be committed was forgiven. It is up to us to portray that, to show what is available, if only it is accepted.
A teacher of mine engraved in my mind, “It is all about relationship.” The sins of this planet, from the smallest “white lie” to the holocaust have all been forgiven. With out relationship however, that forgiveness is useless, an unknown glory.
Jesus came to fulfill the old law, and restore a relationship. He tried to remove the idea of religion in relation to God. Why for the last two thousand years have we tried to understand law, restore an orderly, historically accurate religion and turn a relationship into a system? Relationships are messy, even with God. They are full of struggles, communication, and pain. They require time and vulnerability. In time they become the essence of life. Who we are depends solely on how we carry out our relationships. You cannot simplify relationship; it is the sharing of life with another and everything that entails. Love is seeing someone, as they are, not as whom they might be, while trying to pull out the best in them. Not trying to love the person they could be. That is not love, that is a project, a selfish desire to accomplish something in the name of God.
It makes me so angry…why can people not just love God and love people? Why must we add methods, theology, and traditional preferences to relationship? Why must we put God in a box? Why can we not embrace mystery? Why must we try and explain an infinite being with finite words and minds? Why are we not able to admit that we don’t understand completely who God is? Why can we not embrace a relationship that will take the rest of eternity to complete instead of one that is limited to 66 books? God is God, he is good, he loves me, and he loves those that curse him, even Satan. I do not understand how he does what does or many times why, but I will trust…