echoes of redemption

I’ve been reading Lamentations for the past 10 weeks.

It’s only five chapters long. And I’m only three chapters into it. Sometimes it’s good to read Scripture in big units, like reading a chapter a day, or a book in one sitting. Other times we need to take it in slowly.

I started in Lamentations 3 about four weeks ago.

The first time I read it, I was confused.

The second time I read it I realized there was a message that I was missing. So I dabbled in it a few times a week.

Left it alone for a few days (read through Galatians for a break).

Went back and it still didn’t make sense to me. Couldn’t figure out what I was missing.

Left it alone for a few days (read through Ephesians for a break).

Came back to it today and it came to life.

What I was missing jumped off the page and woke me up.

And it was incredible.

It’s too easy to move on. Not to wrestle with the text. To be content not understanding. Just to leave it where it is. But sometimes reading the Bible is about struggling to understand. Searching for things that take a while to search for. And when we find them, our faith seems more alive than ever.

Because spirituality is a journey, so having parts of the journey that seems to move slower than others is okay. Nothing is wrong, it’s just part of the journey.

I watched a video last night about William Kamkwamba, a young man who at age 14 figured out how to build a windmill in his famine-ravished African village.

He was nearly illiterate at the time and used the inspiration of a picture in a book, and what he could glean from electrical diagrams to wire, circuit break and construct a fully operational windmill.

Because bringing hope to his part of the world is less about money or training and more about intestinal fortitude.

Jon Stewart juxtaposed William’s interview with a rapper who was depressed the recession had forced him to cut down on “video hoes” (his term for women in rap videos) and upset because he could only afford a Bentley rather than the Rolls he had wanted.

The Daily Show producers also dropped in Brian Williams’ announcement that the US would be bombing the moon this morning.

So people are dying all over the world while we complain about our cars.

And you can build a well for $2000 to help the 1 in 6 people in this world that are drinking disease contaminated filth for water, but the US is spending $76,000,000 to shoot bombs at the moon to see if there was water on its surface millions of years ago.

And that makes me mad as hell.

Because we could made a difference.

We could change someone’s life.

But we have to do everything fundamentally different – collectively and personally. It can’t just be about us and our story. Checking for water on the moon isn’t categorically wrong. But ignoring a toddler who is drinking water filled with cow piss is.

It has to be about embracing this world, carrying the burdens of those who are distant, marginalized and oppressed.

It has to be about something bigger than ourselves.

And that’s the kind of people we want to be.

And when we talk about starting a church in New York City, that’s the kind of church we want to be.

Right now we’re preparing to hand out a book to people and churches interested in partnering with us in ministry. But this thing is not just about us. Which is why we’re looking for sponsors for each individual book. Because our story is about changing the story of people’s lives.

So for every book we hand out we’re donating a decade of clean water to someone who doesn’t have it. (You can find out more about that here.)

Because together we can make a difference.

Because our blessing should lead us to a lifestyle of generosity.

Because the church exists to pour itself out for the benefit of those lost, distant and hurting all over this planet.

One of the most powerful spiritual phrases is me too.

When we aren’t in community with one another – doing life together – others people’s victories don’t impact us (or worse, we become jealous of them). We were created to live deeply with one another, so when one of us celebrates, we all say, me too!

The only thing worse than pain is pain in isolation. I don’t know if misery loves company, but I do know misery isn’t as miserable with company. Company to cry with you. Hurt with you. Help you by looking at your pain and saying, me too.

Superficiality is only combated in relationship. Openness. Transparency. Interestingly enough, when we share our failures, hurts and pain, we find deep common ground with others. We find that they are struggling too. We hear the words, me too.

God designed people in his image – and when we live our lives together, we have the opportunity to find and experience him in deeper ways than we ever thought possible.