God says, “I am offering you life or death, blessing or curse. Choose life, then, so that you and your descendants may live” (Deuteronomy 30:19).

“Choose life.” That’s God’s call for us, and there is not a moment in which we do not have to make that choice. Life and death are always before us. In our imaginations, our thoughts, our words, our gestures, our actions … even in our nonactions. This choice for life starts in a deep interior place. Underneath very life-affirming behaviour I can still harbour death-thoughts and death-feelings. The most important question is not “Do I kill?” but “Do I carry a blessing in my heart or a curse?”
— Henri Nouwen in Bread for the Journey

I stayed in the classroom after class the other day to catch up on some blogs & plug some due dates into iCal.  As I sat and worked I noticed another guy had stayed behind too, and after a couple of minutes we began to talk about ourselves, our churches, and our desires for ministry. We talked for about half an hour, and I noticed something in our conversation — I have become a very pessimistic person when it comes to church.

Both he and I have had our struggles with churches that are built on programs & luring people in — where they are so focused on presentation that there is little in the way of discipleship.  We both have frustrations about our tribe, its sacred cows, and its legalistic tendencies.  The difference is that his dark clouds have silver linings, and mine are just full of thunder.  

It seems that I have come to a point where I am so discontent that I have stopped living in the hope of the better way.  I am part of this emerging conversation, but as Henri Nouwen has reminded me above, nothing can emerge from the ashes if life isn’t present.  My enthusiasm for turning consumers into Christ followers has been replaced with cynicism concerning the modern church & its ability to be transformed — my blessings have given way to curses.  

In light of this self-revelation, I have decided to focus my journey through this Lenten season on recovering my hope for transformation.  I may be preparing being prepared to plant a new faith community here in Topeka or elsewhere, but for now God has me in this place and time to minister to the community I am a part of.  

I pray that God will restore my heart of blessings, so that I might seek life.  I hope that you will think of me in your time of prayer too.

We got another big’un last night.  Eight inches of snow plus blowing snow and drifts — all on top of a 1/4 inch of ice.  Every other university, college, & USD closed today, but the seminary did not.   The drive was treacherous, but at least the roads were empty.  

The end of the day saw all of the Ash Wednesday services around Kansas City cancelled (at least anything near where I am staying).  It is bad enough that most many of the pastors in the tribe I am affiliated with (Church of the Nazarene) have all but done away with the Christian calendar, but to lose any other opportunity to attend an Ash Wednesday service has been the best start to the season of Lent. 

I have decided that I need to be more disciplined in my writing, and that I also need to separate my journey as a follower of Christ from my identity as a student — to separate my studies from my relationship with God.  Addressing both of these needs I have decided to dedicate myself to going deeper this Lenten season — spending more time with God, as well as reading and chewing on N.T. Wright’s Reflecting the Glory, and making an effort to blog daily.  

Hopefully this declaration of intent will motivate me to keep my daily regiment.

For Ash Wednesday I leave you with a translation of a Gaelic poem called St. Patrick’s Lorica,