Those Who Enter

American culture focuses on the future. We live in a perpetual race. The future is often at our fingertips—we can post pictures on Facebook in 5 seconds, and instantly the future becomes the past. We get impatient and bored, and we think that our goals are like apples in a sun-ripened orchard, just waiting to be plucked.

Like 90% of the world, and 99% of Americans, I have a lot of trouble living in the present. In other words, I begin to focus on “what I’m doing for Jesus,” instead of Jesus Himself. If you’ve skimmed over any of my other blog posts, or if you know me in person (which I’m willing to bet you do if you are reading this), you know this is a recurring problem in my spiritual walk, as it is for many believers.

Being forward-looking is not a bad thing. Paul thought about goals and the future. In Philippians, chapter 3, he speaks of striving to “attain the resurrection from the dead”—meaning that, by faith, he would not let go of the life he had found in Jesus for the death of the law (verses 9-10). That’s a dense thought. He continues:

But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.—Philippians 3:12-14

If that’s not forward-thinking, I don’t know what is. But Paul isn’t making minute ministry plans here. He is looking ahead to one thing and one thing only: Christ. His goal was “the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” In other words, “I want to go up and be with God in Christ.”

Let those of us who are mature think this way, he writes, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you (v. 15). And I tell you what, He will!

A few weeks ago, I asked God in prayer to reveal to me what He wanted to say to me, instead of me babbling on and on about what I wanted from Him. Sometimes (ok, all of the time), God has something to say to us if we’d be quiet long enough. (He is the omniscient one.)

So I asked Him to tell me what He wanted me to know. Turns out He was just waiting for the invitation. When we walk by the Spirit, we can all feel God impressing things on our hearts. {Check out Jeremiah 31:33-34.} Here is the essence of what I felt He was telling me:

Enjoy this moment. Submit.

I am not asking you to be superhuman. I will take care of that. I only want you to be a part of my body.

I have not placed you where you are with you in mind. I have placed you here with my body in mind—of which you are a part. The health of my body depends on all the parts working together. As a part of my body, you benefit from its health, even as you contribute to its health. You have been placed here: you, specifically, at such a time as this; yet nothing is about you.

At the same time, I delight in you. I want you to stop waiting for your ministry to begin the way you imagine it. Just do it. This church, this geographic area, is not just one stop on your imaginary life plan. It is a part of my body. Sure, you will learn how to lead in the positions I’ve entrusted to you—but this “goal,” this result, is not the object.

When will you learn that the most important time is always now?

Don’t disengage. Don’t serve just for the experience. You will make an impact for the people you are serving, but only because I am making an impact.  Please, come go with me! I want your company on this journey. Stop thinking about other places you’d rather be, because the only place I want to be is right beside you, enjoying this experience with you. I’m by your side. Why would I take you somewhere I don’t want to go?

 I am freeing you from your addiction to the future. Don’t think that what you are doing is less than what you want to do, some stair step on the way to some greater dream. While you’re scheming, I’m trying to do my perfect work in you, and to impact those around you with my light.

Wipe the smudges off the lantern. You’re just the glass. I’m the light inside. Let me shine. That’s all you have to do. Get rid of your pride and take joy in the great tasks I am trying to accomplish with you. Work together with other members of my body. I have given you these others, and when you love them, you are loving me.

The smudges on the lantern are whatever parts of ourselves that we won’t give to God: our pride, our fears, our perceived identity outside of Christ (all inter-related sins). As long as we’re focused on those things (whatever that looks like for each one of us), the light is going to be hidden behind a sooty mess.

Which is unfortunate, since Jesus said, No one after lighting a lamp covers it with a jar or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a stand, so that those who enter may see the light. For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light (Luke 8:16-17).

Imagine how ridiculous that would be: to light a lamp and then put it under a jar (which would eventually extinguish it), or put it under a bed (which would likely set the bedclothes on fire). Only a crazy person would do that. No, instead, we set it on a stand. It is the only generator of all vision in a dark house.

Some people think that, with this statement, Jesus meant that we should go around smiling all the time and covering up our true selves behind false cheerfulness. But that’s too easy. Actually what He meant was that, when we are walking closely and honestly with Him, He changes all the earthly fragments of our identity into the beauty of His identity. His light turns us inside-out, and it glares into the darkness so that all can see who He is, not who we are. That’s a bit more of a painful process than just walking around jolly like Santa Claus or Barbie all the time.

Everything that is exposed to the light is revealed (Ephesians 5:13), even parts of ourselves that need to be cleaned out. If the lamp isn’t burning, you can’t really see the soot. It’s a beautiful thing to see the trash of your self-made identity, the distraction of your self-planned goals, even for ministry. It means there’s light on the subject.

When I was thinking about my little lantern with the smudges on it, I realized I needed to take a look at my wrong beliefs about who I am. I need to rub away my dreams and plans, because they are based on what I think I am good at. Newsflash: we are the clay, not the potter (Isaiah 45:9, Jeremiah 18:6). The potter can make us into whatever He wants or needs us to be in the moment we are called to minister. We have to be so empty of ourselves and so full of Christ that He has room to work through us when the moment arises.

And the moment is now.

As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”—Luke 9:57-58

How many times have I said, “I will follow you wherever you go!” Following implies future, because followers are “going somewhere.” When I’m following, I am going after something exciting. I may be partially motivated by my love for Jesus and desire to be with Him; I may even be mostly motivated by that. Jesus definitely told us to “follow him”—but He also told us to sacrifice our own identity (Luke 9:23-25). We shouldn’t be unwilling to do what He has set before us now. Sometimes, when I swear I will “follow Him wherever He goes,” I am revealing my desire to be wherever I am not right now,  to leave behind what I think is boring in the present moment and pursue something way more adventurous.

Adventure-seekers are generally pretty selfish about it. We want the drama. We don’t want the work. But what Jesus told the guy was, “You want to serve me? Ok. Here is something you can do for me in the present moment. You can give me a place to stay, where you are.”

Bet that thrill-seeker was not so enthusiastic after that reply.

I’m just reading into scripture here, because there are a variety of things Jesus could have meant with this saying. So take what I have to say at face value. It’s just that this particular verse slapped me yesterday while I was reading, because it showed me how Jesus feels about passion without willingness to submit. I have a tendency to plan and wait for an exciting future, and ignore the present—walking by sight and not by faith (2 Corinthians 5:7). If I can see the future—visualize it, make plans for ministry, imagine the things that I think God is trying to do, based on my perceived gifts—then I don’t have to have much faith, do I? I’m thinking I’m looking at a lot, but my lamp is hidden under the jar of my own beliefs about what I can do. In order to really do what God wants, I have to submit to His leading on a daily basis. And today He might not be telling me to build a palace; He may be asking me to fluff the pillows.

Or be kind to my brother. Or listen to this one person today that I just really don’t care for when I think I have other things to do. Or work with youth at my church when I want to go home and nap. Those things are a little less glamorous and a little harder to swallow than the far-away idea of moving to Africa and adopting a bunch of orphans. (This may have actually been a semi-serious plan for half a second in my past.)

The Lord was calling that man on the road to fellowship with Him. He was calling him to share his home. And, ultimately, He calls us to make our hearts His home. THAT’S the “upward call.” It’s a lot more comfortable to dream about the future, where we feel we have control over our circumstances, than invite Him in where we are now, which may not be a place we really want to be.

I realize that God gives us natural ministry gifts. He also wants us to be forward-looking enough to consider where we’re going, so we’re not just blindly tossed about by the world. But we shouldn’t restrict ourselves to what we think God wants to do, in our natural minds. He wants to give us a vision for HIS plans. Because, you see, God places us somewhere not to glorify us. He places us within His body so that we can work together to glorify Him. It is amazing how easy it is to forget that, particularly when you are a twenty-something with a lot of big dreams for your life.

No one after lighting a lamp covers it with a jar or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a stand, so that those who enter may see the light.—Luke 8:16

The Word doesn’t say, “People passing on the street will see the light,” or “people two villages away will see the light.” I don’t doubt that those people do see the light; however, Jesus said that “those who enter” will see the light. “Those who enter” are the ones you let into your home—people you invite to get close to you and partake of your heart’s hospitality. For Jesus, that was everyone; He was constantly welcoming the rejects of society.

Ministry isn’t some plan for the future. Ministry is people.

Ministry is giving wayfarers a pillow for their heads in your own home (possibly literally, but also figuratively) and sharing what you have. It’s inviting Jesus in to be the light, and inviting others to enter to see the light, not in the future, but today. That’s no easy task, but it makes us dependent upon Him.

God doesn’t make mistakes in His body. He knows where every part goes. The ones around you are the ones who need ministry—especially your brothers and sisters in Christ. Yes, God has great, radical dreams for your ministry. But you can’t get there if you’re trying to get there. He has to do the work. He is just asking you for a place to stay.

* * * *

I realized after writing this whole post that I ought to take my own advice a little more seriously.

I have come to these same realizations over the past several months, but with more and more dimension each time. This time, I had a painful moment of guilt, because I am too restless and impatient to stay in one place. DC was not my first choice of location (to say the very least), but at least it’s exciting. What if Jesus asks me to settle somewhere—like my hometown? Egad. Blech. That’s scarier than moving all the time.

I am in the awkward stage where I am too old to go back to my family, but I don’t have my own family yet—so I can’t exactly settle anywhere. All I can do is cling desperately onto the close friends I have, treating them like family, and recognize the precariousness of this arrangement. I want to follow Jesus somewhere exciting, because if I don’t, I will have to go back to one of the places I came from. I am depending on HIM to be my family, to be the one who goes with me.

You know, I think He’s cool with that. He wants to be with me. As Peter would say, “Lord, to whom shall we go?” (John 6:68)

But I still have to be willing to look beyond my desire for excitement and accept His leading, even if it’s somewhere I don’t want to go. I have to be open to back-tracking, if that’s what He wants. I don’t think it is, but I have to be willing to fluff the pillows no matter what house they’re in. It seems paradoxical, but following Him might mean settling with Him.

I know this post is super-long, but now seems a good time to include another set of words the Lord spoke into my heart while I was praying about this a week or two ago:

I am with you. All these things that are new to you, unfamiliar and scary—all the places you have been over the past five months—the PRECARIOUSNESS of your life—that which looks like imbalance—I hold ALL of that in my hands. Everything unfamiliar that you see—the terror that your eyes see [Psalm 91:5 &6; Psalm 53:5]—is under my domain, my authority. Just because you are more comfortable with your surroundings now does not mean I am more in control. I have always been just as in control as I am now; you just couldn’t perceive it as fully.

 In joy, confront the unfamiliar. Unfamiliarity will be an unpleasant thorn your whole life if you allow it to be. Cast off the familiarity of your dreams, and allow me to do my work in you. Your own soul will be unfamiliar to you, because of the work that I am continuously doing there. If you remain uncomfortable with unfamiliarity, you will be uncomfortable even within yourself.

Be comfortable with ME. Behold, I am doing a new thing; you haven’t the depth to perceive it [Isaiah 43:19]. So stop trying to perceive it in your own wisdom. Joy isn’t held down by the soul; it is sensed by the spirit. It is not something perceived from the outside, but rather wells up from the inside, where I live…in this way, it is outside of your ability to generate, while at the same time it comes from inside you and not from an external source. The purpose in your heart is like deep water [Proverbs 20:5]; if you have my understanding, you will draw it out, along with streams of endless joy.

Joy does not rely on its own wisdom. Joy knows nothing but me. And in that way, it knows everything.

Y’all, He loves us too much to make it about us. He wants us to experience HIS joy, free from ourselves.

The main thing is this: whether we are nomads or settled, we are never really at home, because our citizenship is in heaven. We won’t be home till we get there. In the meantime, we have to cling on to the One who came down from that place and made His home in us.

Pray for me as I live out this truth: He is constant. All we have to do is submit. When I slow down enough to really ponder it, that freedom is enough to inspire my joy.