True Community (Nov. 2019)

Brokenness. We all have it to varying degrees. Some of us have lots of personal struggles, some are very near other peoples' pain and suffering, and to many it may seem like it will never stop. Health fails, our bodies fail, our dreams fail. Another school shooting, another overdose, another political scandal, another divorce, another death. It is very clear that the world is not the way it's supposed to be. Imagine a world with no more tears, pain, suffering, or sin. I can't. It seems too far from the reality that I see and experience every day. My bent is to avoid pain, to find a safe corner of comfort to just breath and try to convince myself of the lie that this safe corner is a reflection of the whole world around me. It is not the case. The more I shut the world out from my heart and see how the world doesn't fit in my safe corner, the more I segregate myself from the reality that this world is broken. I used to compare my life with the suffering, the evil, and the brokenness of the world and consider myself above it, just a little bit better off, not because of anything I had done, but because I was living in a safe corner, keeping to myself.

We on staff with 2nd Mile are reading a book by Michelle Warren called The Power of Proximity. In what we've read so far, she talks of how much her life changed when she began intentionally living in poorer communities. The book talks about what God can do with shared pain. I relate to a lot of what's in this book. Probably the most profound takeaway for me so far has been this idea of brokenness. She writes, And it is important to know of pain...It destroys our self-pride, our arrogance, our indifference toward others. It makes us aware of how frail and tiny we are and of how much we must depend on the Master of the Universe. This reminds me of the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector. Luke 18:10-14 says, "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people--robbers, evildoers, adulterers--or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.' "But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God have mercy on me, a sinner.' "I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

If I am not in touch with my own pain, my own suffering, and my own flaws, I will never be able to understand the pain, the suffering, and the flaws of others. It's easy to judge from far away, but getting closer to pain builds a bridge between myself and the homeless man, between myself and the drug addict, between myself and the "tax collector" so to speak. If you think about your closest relationships you've had in your life, they are probably built on lots of time spent, lots of fun, and lots of shared pain. Regardless if the pains between you are similar, that safe space of trust allows for true healing to occur. I've seen it. I've experienced it. Finding people with whom I can share anything with complete honesty has brought some Scripture to life that I never thought could happen. Psalm 133:1-2 says, "How good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity. It is like the precious oil on the head, running down on the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down on the collar of his robes." I think of the early church in the book of Acts, chapter 4 verse 32 says, "All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had." This is talking more of possessions, but how true this is when we share all of ourselves as well.

Michelle Warren also writes about community and how it is birthed when pain is shared, "not as a stifling form of self-complaint, but as a recognition of God's saving promises." I know what it feels like to not have community, to not trust other people with my pain, and I know I'm only hurting myself and my relationships when I do that. As I continue to live in Brentwood, among the "tax collectors" of society (meaning disliked and maybe even avoided), I pray for my own humility and courage to remain proximate to this pain, to not run and try to medicate my pain and other peoples' pain with binge-watching a TV show, with locking myself in my house, with distracting myself with my phone or computer. I encourage you, especially in these holiday-filled months when you will be around family and friends, to give of yourself, whether that's listening more than talking, giving more than receiving, forgiving rather than revenging, apologizing rather than accusing, communicating rather than keeping to yourself. To understand someone else's pain, just ask. I too often assume everyone in my life is fine because of the front they put up. I'm sure people think the same of me.

Praise God that he sent his son to set the example of becoming proximate not only to humanity, but to the sinners, the evildoers, the tax collectors of his time. Where in the Bible do we see Jesus leave people in a broken place? To finish up, Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 12:9 says, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

Have a great last month of the 2010's.

Obligatory pic of Max helping me putt