Being Church: Missionally Shaped

Have you ever been tested by God in a way that you can’t understand until it is over?  When you go through the trial, you wonder why it has to happen to you when it happens and all at once you begin to wonder if perhaps you misunderstood something?  I am there right now.  I am frustrated and yet I know somehow and someway, everything is going to work out for God’s glory.  It is not just a cliché that I have learned to say over and over again to make me feel good about my situation or myself.  I have experienced it in the past and I hope once again, I will experience it in a greater way.  What am I referring to?  Let me tell you:

On October 14th, I ended up a little late to work.  Actually I was on my way to work apparently doing 87 in a 55.  Everything was fine until I look in my rear view mirror and saw a light show behind me.  His lights were blue and red and I all at once realized that I was being pulled over by a cop.  I slowed down and found a place where I could be out of the way of traffic and turned off my car.  As I sat there, I began to contemplate my situation:  I was late to work and I was hoping this cop would understand and perhaps give me grace regarding my choice of driving speeds.

As he came to the window, I presented my license registration and insurance.  He told me I was speeding.  I told him my situation and asked for some grace regarding my speed.  With my license in his hand, he went back to his car and I just sat there, hoping he would give me a break.  As he returned, he had a yellow paper with him.  He handed it to me with all of my driver information and told me that he was sorry and had to give me a ticket.  I looked down and saw 194.50 written in pencil.  So, I went on and drove to work.

Two weeks later, I received a letter in the mail from the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation (Penn Dot) that said, “Dr. Mr. Miekley, You have received 5 points on your license due to your speeding.  You must go to a departmental hearing on December 13th and plead your case.  If you do not show up on time, you will lose your license for 90 days and receive a fine.  Signed…” So I went, hoping that I could plead my case and ask for grace regarding my police stop on October 14th.  It did not go as I thought it would though.

When I showed up, I walked through a door and a guy was sitting on the other side of a desk.  In three minutes of seeing and talking with me, he told me that I would end up losing my license for 15 days.  Needless to say, I asked him again to reconsider his choice but it was too late.  He had signed the paper and I was to lose my license mid January for 15 days.  Merry Christmas.

Three weeks later, I received a letter once again from my friends at Penn Dot.  They told me that they must receive my license by January 18th at 12:01 AM.  I am so glad they had an approximate time for it.  So, to make sure it would arrive on time, I sent my license today (1/16/0 to Penn Dot (Harrisburg, PA) next day shipping with my license and 25.00 so that after 15 days, my license will be reactivated in the police computers and I can drive once again.

All in all, I have to say that I am not as upset as I thought I would have been.  I am blessed to have friends that will help me out to get from school to home and from work to home throughout the week.  I also have an awesome mom who has told me that if I were in need of being dropped off somewhere, she would help me out.  The only issue I have is being humble enough to ask for rides for these next 15 days.

I am the one who usually ends up giving rides to people who are in need of rides.  I hate asking for help and being dependant on other people to go somewhere.  God is going to teach me something through this (outside of slowing down and doing the speed limit when I drive).  I just do not know what exactly.  I guess that is something I will have to figure out when all is said and done.  God is good though.  He has never let me down.  I know that these 15 days will go by fast enough.  All I need to do is do my best to continue to do what I can do.  I need to not worry about asking for rides and receive a blessing form others every once in a while.  I guess perhaps that is something I will gather from this experience.  Just thought I would update you on my stupidity.  God bless

I should have bundled up a little more last night.  With the cold air and the dropping temperature, I should have thought about what I was wearing before I left to go to Love Park.  I went nonetheless in hopes of understanding what it is like to be cold in the city, while having no blankets or a sleeping bag to insolate my body heat.  It was not the coldest night but it was colder than I had previously experienced before.  Everything was wet due to the rainfall we had experienced earlier that day and it was just down right cold.

When I arrived, I threw my hands into my light jacket and began to shiver.  This is what it is like.  As I looked around, I saw two guys in the fetal position over a warm vent, pumping out air from some unknown source.  As I sat and watched, I saw a couple of “rich” people walk right over these two men without even taking the time to notice them.  One group of people had with them, a little girl, who had taken the time to notice one man laying over the vent and commented to what seemed to be her mother saying, “Why is the man on the ground, mommy?  Doesn’t he have a house?”  The woman ignored her daughter’s questions and proceeded to walk in a brisk speed off with her daughter’s hand in hers.  What a shame.  What an awesome opportunity to share the love of God with someone else and mold a young mind and to know God’s heart for others.  I could only watch the silhouettes grow small until the mother/daughter team disappeared from my vision.  I can only hope that the daughter continued to ask her mother questions about the guy on the street.  Perhaps the young child could train her mother to love as Jesus loves.

After they had left, I saw two guys hanging out with one another near where they had received fresh, hot coffee from our group.  I decided to go over there and make some small talk.  The taller guy saw me as I was walking to him and continued to stare at me when I stopped and said hi.  He told me he wasn’t homeless (perhaps thinking I was an undercover cop or something).  His name was Tom (or so he said).  He was a taller man, black, with deep brown eyes that would involuntarily shake every once in a while.  After talking to him for a little, I found out that he was on crack and was hoping to receive another hit before he went to a church to sleep on a cold floor a few blocks away from where we were.  As I continued to have a conversation with him, he would continually look all around us (perhaps looking for someone or hiding from someone – I couldn’t tell you which).  All at once, Tom left and I was left there with the other guy, Dan.

Dan was also on some serious combination of drugs.  He said he enjoyed crack and pot more than he like beer or soda.  He said it was so easy and cheap to get, all he would have to do is give some “favors” to other people and he would get what he needed to balance his drug addiction for the night.  Being 58, Dan looked more like he was in his late 70’s.  His face was ashy and I could see the leftovers of a paper towel or tissue that had helped stop a nosebleed from the drugs he took earlier that evening.  He often repeated himself and had trouble finding words he was looking for.  He was in all respects though, harmless.

Dan and I talked about life, his past relationship with a married woman that was not his wife, religion, and some of his hopes and dreams.  He was, for the most part, very smart.  He was familiar with a variety of issues that revolved around history – specifically ancient history of the church and the reformation.

I left last night, understanding somewhat what it was like to be cold in Love Park.  I walked back to my warm car and eventually crawled into my warm bed with blankets.  Before I closed my eyes, I thought about those who were going to sleep outside in the cold.  I took a moment to thank God for all I have been given and closed my eyes to sleep

Today in church, Gary had the opportunity to teach on Acts 2.  And, where I thought I would be excited to listen to a “fresh” rendition of Acts, I felt as though perhaps it was a message I had already heard in some respects.  It is hard sometimes to pull out new things from a chapter that one has not heard.  In fact, I feel as though when I share something with others, that I am the only one that had not heard it before.  I feel as though I am wasting someone’s time by sharing something they have already experienced or read before.  I will attempt to bring out some things I experienced through the writings of Luke in the book of Acts, chapter 2.

As the disciples were waiting for the Holy Spirit to show up (which I almost have to believe they did not understand at all), they came together and had fellowship with one another.  It is only my guess that they met with one another and broke bread with each other because these are things they had experienced with Jesus.  The event of the Rich, Young, Ruler would have been a great example to each of the Apostles that possessions can often get in the way of worshipping God.  So, it would make sense that they brought all their belongings to one another and lived in a “socialistic” lifestyle – giving each other what the other needed and so forth.

Then, all at once, the Holy Spirit shows up.  It was loud too.  It says that a “violent wind” swept through the house, and the whole house was filled.  This is a great picture of what happened when the Temple was dedicated to God in the OT.  The Holy Spirit would come and “fill the house.”  It then says that tongues of fire were upon them and they spoke in “different tongues.”  This whole tongues issue has been particularly interesting to me.  For apart of my life, I believe that they were “heavenly tongues” in which people said things that were “angelic.”  I have since come to understand that these were spoken languages – and others who heard them were hearing them in their own language!  This event reconciles Genesis 12 and the Babel experience.  During the Babel period, their languages were “mixed up” and people were unable to understand one another.  In Acts 2, they could hear one another and they were gathered once again to hear the message of God.  It is a powerful story I believe we oftentimes underestimate a lot.  God was at work in a major way.

So this is where our story ends.  Next Sunday will be another part of Acts.  In closing, I would like to make one final thought about this passage that oftentimes bothers me more than blesses me.  I have heard it said that the church should be an “Acts 2” church.  In some respects, I understand where they are coming from.  My only serious conviction about their statement is that the Church does not stop at Acts 2.  It continues through Acts 3 – to the end of Revelation.  I would rather someone say, “I want to be a kind of Church where Christ’s Spirit can fall upon us – like Acts 2.”  It is a slight difference but to me, and hopefully to others, it DOES make a significant difference as to how we understand and study the Word of God – and the book of Acts as a whole.

For the past couple of days I have been considering how our faith is like a dance. Though there is no Scripture that actively supports the analogy, I believe in some way, we are invited to dance with God. It is an awesome task and few feel as though they are able to learn the steps.

For some people, it might feel like everyone around them is doing a waltz and all you know is a line dance. In short, it feels like everyone around you is moving to the beat of a different drum as it were. I can honestly say in my own life, much of my time on the dance floor of life has been spent this way. I have tried to understand why I am the only one in the corner of the floor, doing my own thing while everyone else seems to know all the right steps. As I sit back at times and watch others dance, I feel as though I am not even worthy to remain on the floor and oftentimes have found a chair on the sidelines and watched.

Learning to dance a certain way is a daunting task. More and more, I have found myself completely and hopelessly drawn to want to learn but have found myself wanting to quit after the first twenty minutes. I feel bad when I step on His toes or when I just can’t keep up. I end up apologizing more often than most and ask to take a break. Sometimes those breaks last longer than twenty minutes. It rather ends up being like a month or two. What a waste.

I thank God that there came a time when I decided to stick to learning the steps of this special dance of faith. I began to learn the rules of the dance and how the melody went. I sat and listened as my Instructor began to model for me how to do it. It looked so simple. At once I would get up and attempt to dance but He told me to stop, sit, listen, and wait. My time to dance would soon come. So I would sit and watch. He then asked me to stand. I was really ready this time. Loudly in my mind I would count the beat. I would look down every so often and make sure my feet were in the right place. Then He stopped me and told me not to worry about how others would see my dance. “They are dancing their dance, you dance yours.” In time, I began to feel the mechanical edge of my counting and steps soften and a fluid motion begin. No longer did I have to count in my head. I would just listen to the melody playing through the speakers and dance my dance of faith. As I looked around, I found that I was in tune with others and that our dance complimented one another. It was a beautiful sight.

As I looked behind me, I saw others sitting on the sidelines much like I had been. I saw a desire for them to dance as well but hidden behind their hearts was a fear that gave them the shakes and hide. In them, I saw my former self. I wanted them to enjoy the dance I was dancing. I felt as though they were missing out.

I then realized what my Instructor was trying to tell me from the beginning. Even if I just stand on the floor (forced or on my own accord), and the dance continues around me with its sweet music, it was always better to be out on the dance floor rather than sitting on the sidelines. When I decided to get caught up in the dance, my life changed. I now know the steps and no longer need to remember to count. I can close my eyes and listen. All together, the dance of faith is radically beautiful.

If you have not taken the opportunity to get out on the dance floor, I encourage you to do so. The Instructor is ready and willing to teach you how to dance this dance of faith. Once you have learned it, you will see how beautiful it really is. Ecclesiastes says, “There is a time to dance.” I hope you will take that time to step out and dance your dance of faith as well. I promise you your life will never be the same.

I have been doing a lot of thinking recently on the subject of faith.  After hearing a great sermon by Rob Bell on the matter, I have come to the conclusion that we have ultimately defiled the manner in which Jesus Himself went about sharing the deepest extents of faith with others.  We have made faith into a contest of sorts.  We have allowed the creativity of our faith to be replaced with traditional dogma, which has made sharing our faith, more of an obligation rather than a joy.  It is not all too surprising that our want of understanding faith (from a modern, mechanical aspect) has never truly amounted to much.  I have learned to tear down many of the paradigms I have previously learned about sharing my faith with others for a new way of understanding, responding and sharing my faith.  And, thus far, it seems to be a lot more inviting and positive.

In Matthew 7:7, Jesus likens faith to direct, intentional actions (ask, seek, knock).  There is a hint of desperation that accompanies these actions.  We long for someone on the other side of the door to open up and welcome us inside.  Many times though, it seems as though perhaps no one is hope despite all the signs they actually are.  Why knock?  I guess the question we should really be asking is, “Why not knock?”  What do we have to lose by continually knocking on the door?  There is so much more to gain in our knocking.  The Scriptures tell us that the door will be open and yet we are impatient to that end.  We are to continue knocking though.  Even when our hand hurts from the repetition of our efforts we must continue to do so.  It is when we lest expect the door to open, it does, and the joy we have been looking for stands before us.  It is a beautiful picture of faith that we oftentimes are not taught in our local churches.

When a little kid continually says, “Dad, dad, daddy, dad, dad, dad, dad” (and so on), eventually the father must look towards his son and respond.  I am sure I am not the only one that has had a young child continually pull on the corner of my shirt until I look down at them and give them the attention they are looking for.  This Scripture invites us to do the same.

It is not that God is busy or does not want to give us His attention.  He is not the kind of father that does not care about His children or ignores them.  He waits until the time is right.  His timing is perfect for us, when we need it.  We are invited though to be that “annoying” child with God.  We just continually knock, knowing that the door will be opened.  Without that faith, we will surly become bored and perhaps even walk away from the door.  If only we would have knocked a little longer.

When was the last time someone shared their faith in such a way, you were given this analogy of asking, seeking, knocking?  When someone you know well asks you, “What’s the big deal about faith?  What is it?” What was your response?  Was your response something like, “Faith is sort of like knocking.  You stand before a door and you knock until the person who lives behind the door opens it.  No one knows how long you have to sit there and knock but it is in the knocking, I become more fully aware that the door will soon open.”  What a beautiful picture of faith.  It is real, genuine, and descriptive.  It is not some mushy, fluffy, pithy, cliché.  No one really has time for those examples anyway.

So it is that my encouragement rests in this:  Ask, Seek, and Knock.  Never stop.  Allow your faith to grow from the inside out and know the truth:  The door will open, you will receive, and you will find.  That is something worth sharing with others.

We went once again to Love Park to hand out sandwiches, coffee and clothes. I didn’t drive this week, which was nice. For the past couple of weeks, I have felt, to a point, obligated to do so. It was nice to be a passenger in a car with other people and not feel the stress of traffic and directions. I welcome that opportunity when it shows itself.

We arrived with our group and started unpacking our stuff. It is almost funny to watch those who are homeless start walking towards you like you are some superstar or something. They stand in line, patiently waiting for coffee and a bagged lunch. They all usually say thank you and return to a bench where they can sit down and drink a warm cup of coffee. Being a warmer night than usual, there were a lot more people out tonight. I began to look around to see if any of those I had previously talked to were around. It wasn’t long before I saw my friend, Larry.

I met Larry about a month and a half ago. Tonight, he recognized me first and even remembered my name. I was surprised that he had. We sat and talked about life, living on the streets of Philadelphia, and about the future. He was looking to move back to New York where his family lived. He hoped it would be in the next couple of weeks but he wasn’t sure. They had a place for him to stay and a job lined up for him to get back on his feet and return to society in a positive manner. He had a smile on his face that brightened up my night.

As we sat and talked, we looked up and saw all the apartments and office buildings around us. He told me that some of those small apartments cost several thousand dollars a month to live in. I sat and wondered if any of those people who pay that kind of money have a heart for these men and women who have absolutely nothing. Did they have compassion and provide meals when they were able to or were they more concerned about themselves and their several thousand dollars a month rent? It really made me sad to think that an opportunity to help someone right outside your front door was being ignored by those who had the financial ability to do something about it.

I continued to look around and saw some men picking out their benches for the night. A nice, new piece of cardboard would be their mat and a warn towel or blanket would be their sheet. A duffle bag or a rolled up trash bad would be their pillow. Still, they slept.

As I continued to talk to Larry, my buddy, Keith showed up with all smiles. He remembered us and came over and gave me a big hug. The smell of beer was evident and the fact that he had probably not showered in a week overpowered my senses. Still, I hugged him and greeted him with the best smile I could. He sat next to me and began to share how God had provided for him this past week. With every detail, he shared the faithfulness of God. He too was looking to move out of the city just as soon as his financial situation got better (which would be in two weeks or so). His brother (best friend) was with him tonight as well. The friend was so drunk he couldn’t even stand straight. Yet, I could tell that he had heard about us and was grateful that we showed up each week.

After awhile, all three men left and I was left sitting on the bench alone. I began t think about our ministry to these men and women. What if we did not come down each week to serve the poor? What if we only cared about ourselves and never went down to give out blankets and food? Would they be taken care of? Would they have the necessary items to survive on the streets? Would some of them go hungry or even die if we did not go down? My guess is that most of them would be fine. Many have been on the streets a lot longer than we had been going to Philadelphia in the first place. I am just excited that God has allowed us to be apart of these men and women’s lives. It is amazing that I can be Christ to someone simply by taking a couple of hours out of my day and giving my time to those who are less fortunate than I am.

Today we began our study through the book of Acts.  In the same format as we have seen through Exodus, we will be looking Acts respectively.  Today we did a run through the background of Acts.  We know that Luke wrote the book of Acts (at least 99.4 percent of us) and we know that it was probably a court document.  Since the church was going through a lot of trials with respects to legitimacy and importance, Luke took it upon himself (as one that was a witness to the ministry of the church with Paul) to write down all that he had experienced as well as accounts from respectable people.  When all was said and done, Luke had written a 77-page document (12 font, times new roman, double spaced).  Needless to say, Luke was very thorough with his thoughts and his accounts.

Luke first accounts to his first writing (testimony) of his document.  He is apparently writing this to “Theophilus.”  Theophilus means “Lover of God.”  He lets us know that the first account highlights the ministry of Jesus till He returns to heaven.  Jesus tells the disciples to wait in Jerusalem until the coming of the Spirit upon them.  In fact, the words used here are, “He ordered them not to depart from Jerusalem.”

The disciples thought that this would be the time in which God brought the Kingdom of Israel.  They were wrong.  In fact, they heard probably the opposite of what they wanted to hear.  They were going to be witnesses (martyrs) for the Gospel – and they were.

This outlines the beginning of our study of Acts.  It is a great book because the way in which we should be the church stems from the framework of the book of Acts.  It is our life source and our reference tool.  I am really looking forward to studying through the book of Acts together.

You’re all I want
You’re all I’ve ever needed…

These two lines come from a very popular song most of us have probably sung in our churches.  The purpose of the song is to ask God to draw Himself to us.  It truly is a song about intimacy.  Along with other songs and Scriptures, we learn that God is everything we could ever need.  God is more than enough for us.  All that we need can be found in Him alone.

I don’t doubt God is and will always be all that we need.  God gives us a surprising statement though in Genesis 2.  He says it is not good that man is alone.  What on earth does God mean?  How is man alone when he is found in the presence of God?  How can man really need someone more than God?

My only thought is that, as God is both one and three, it is not good for man to just be one (individual).  For man to solely be himself, is, perhaps what God would call, “not good.”  It is just an idea.  I am not sure.  Any ideas?

Monday night (New Year’s Eve), a group of eleven of us went to Love Park to hang out with the homeless. We could have had our own party in the suburbs. We could have turned our eyes to the poor in Philadelphia that night but we didn’t. I am glad we went. I was invited to a party but I chose to go to our outreach instead and found it to be quite interesting. Here are the highlights of the night.

When we arrived, several homeless people who were looking for socks, gloves and other warm clothing articles greeted me. At first, I felt as though I was not doing anything significant. I hadn’t really talked to anyone. I just sat there and talked to a couple of people who came up to grab up some clothing. It was then that I saw Juan. He was clothed to the brim. A blue hat and black earmuffs, Juan looked over and smiled. He came over and proceeded to start a conversation. After talking a little small talk, we began talking about how the night was going to end up for us. “They will be drunk,” Juan said. I figured they probably would be. As I looked behind him, there were three people sitting over on a bench. One gentleman looked as though he was at least eighty. The girl perhaps 37, and the other guy in his mid fifties stood near one another. I made my way over to them and offered my hand as a “peace offering” of sorts.

The girl right away offered her hand. She called herself “Phoenix.” She received the name when she was on LSD – she thought she could fly like a bird or something. Even from a far distance, I could smell the alcohol on her breath. She had been drinking quite heavily. Visiting her homeless friends, Phoenix was in the partying mood tonight. Listening to her talk, I realized that she slurred most of her words and stumbled around. She was loud and wanted everyone around her to know that she was there. I kept my distance to a degree, not sure if she would try and jump on something or me. I was definitely on my guard.

She then introduced me to her friend, “Gut Man.” Gut Man was the old man on the bench. He was so visibly drunk; he couldn’t even look you in the eyes. He would repeat himself over and over again and pretend like he was apart of the conversations. Gut Man got his name because he knew how to handle is vodka. As I sat there with them, he threw out four bottles of empty vodka from his bag. I cannot be sure he had drank within the past couple of hours but I would not have doubted him if he told he that he had. After about an hour of the three of these three, I decided it was time to sit back and think about what I had just experienced. Three people, totally drunk, talking about having sex and getting wasted till Wednesday – I was sad that they had ended up in this state of being. The saddest part of it all – they thought and believed they could never get out of it. They were doomed to be in this state for the rest of their lives.

I had to walk away and consider all of this. As I did so, I met a talk black man who was looking for some coffee and a small sandwich. We were out so I went to 7/11 with him and bought him a fresh coffee and a sandwich. It was no big deal. He was so thankful though. He told me how the cops had treated him because he was homeless and I realized he was the guy that I had heard about from Mont – the guy who was arrested because he wanted to sleep. I told him that I would pray for him. He said he was going to look for a job because he didn’t want to be on the streets anymore. We then parted ways. He said he would look out for me next Monday – I said the same.

We left Love Park and went to Penn’s Landing. Nine of us went there to watch the fireworks. It was after all, New Years Eve. The fireworks were awesome. We really all had a great time dancing, singing, and hanging out. All in all, it was an awesome night. We got to serve the homeless and watch some great fireworks (and get a lot of exercise). I am so ready for Monday