hope and help

dancing is not something just anyone can do... it's sort of a 'many are called but few are chosen' kinda thing.

this past sunday, as part of our musical worship experience, a member of the worship band returned her microphone to its stand and came down off of the stage. once on the floor, she began to dance before the cross. it was beautiful and moving.

yet i found myself thinking about mosh pits and how the dancing is so different there. different movement done for different reasons, perhaps.

the mosh pit at a neil young show i attended in the early 90's ground to a halt as the band settled into the opening chords of his song 'helpless.' what had been, just moments before, a throng of pushing and shoving and bouncing and falling settled into a slightly swaying prayer meeting, as the people in attendance joined in with the chorus, singing their existencial confession of helplessness with one very full, multitimbral voice amidst a cloud of second, third, and fourth hand pot smoke.

helpless helpless helpless helpless...

i stood there, praying with and for this gathering, begging God to make himself known to those who were, in that very still and collectively shared moment, making their honest confession. the words of the psalmist in psalm 9.20 resonate in moments like this:

let the nations know that they are but men.

anyway, interesting how our language works. the words help and hope are often interchangeable. one receiving no help in this journey rarely holds any hope either.

Q: what robs people of their hope (rendering them hopeless)?
A: a lack of control- being subject to factors that cannot be negotiated with- the uncontrollables like gas-prices, harsh weather, investment portfolios, freak circumstance and unforeseeable hardship, other people's freewill, disease/death…

we need to move beyond the time of asking questions with no easy answers to a time of becoming God’s answers to the questions of those living in a world where every living thing dies…

the questions often spoken in the deepest recesses of our hearts.
the sounds of silence..
Does God SEE?
Does God CARE?
Does God HELP?
Does God LOVE?

it occurs to me that when we bring help we become hope for another and this silence is broken by the word of God, spoken through the life of one who bears his light in this present darkness.

We must become holy not because we want to feel holy
but because Christ must be able to live his life fully in us
(Mother Teresa)

this past new year's eve, three guys who are part of our church held a chemical-free house party/rave, posting notices around town and on facebook inviting all comers.

the idea? offer some hope to those who want to party in the new year, but don't want to kill brain cells or further the hold that certain harsh chemical slave-masters have upon their lives.

seventy kids showed up... many had never met the hosts, but joined the crowd and received grace and acceptance there, regardless of other lifestyle choices, faith journeys or socioeconomic strata.

and instead of crying 'helpless', they shouted blessing to and with each other: happy new year

it's part of our true restored identity to be hope for another. this is church.

the misseological question is posed in every new moment: how might we live amongst one another, that Jesus would be more real to all of us and those whom we influence?

whether it is across town or across the world, we are called to bring hope, celebrating their difference by offering ours.

Ephesians 1.3-14; 2 Corinthians 3.1-3, 5.14-18 (Message)