It's been a while since I've posted.  I've been trying to juggle a script as well as my barn_believer blog.  I feel a bit overwhelmed and stumbling in the dark.  I stumble into Hebrews 11 - the hall of faith.

I read those words without even thinking, but they were more than words to those who lived them out. They were life or death... they were pulse quickening, weak-kneed, knife's edge reality. These weren't a story in the making to them - it was banking all they had... all they were on a God they couldn't even see. It's feeling the hot breath of a lion on your neck, and believing he won't kill you. It's facing a white hot inferno and being willing to be tossed in, knowing that only a word of denial could save you. It's walking on water...

We know the outcomes. We see the end, the moral of these bits of history - and we Christianize them into object lessons for our lives. These weren't object lessons. These were a reality that these totally human, flesh and bone people walked through... They didn't see the outcome - they didn't even see the God whose words they were obeying. They just stepped out into the unknown... by faith.

And then there's me. I find it hard to face a blank page, much less an inferno. My vision is so small... and I run from those things that would bring me face to face with that leap into darkness. But how else will I know the reality of His arms unless I free-fall into them?

God's word says some other things - I have all the riches of God as my inheritance. I have His Spirit who will guide my every step. I have, working in me, the power that pulled Christ from the grave and shattered the bonds of time and altered the nature of humanity by transforming death into life. I have the knowledge that I can do all things through Christ who fuses His strength to mine. I have His promise that He will never ever leave me or forsake me - never never never.

And so much more.

Father, I need to act, think, move, and breathe as if it is so...

This is an entry I made on my other xanga blog (yes, I have another -http://www.xanga.com/barn_believer ) which is about this scary-good adventure I been swept into - starting a church.   Simple church... no denominations, no agendas, just trying to listen to God on this one.  In ruminating on just exactly what church is, some scripture jumped out at me in a whole new way. 

Here is my entry:

Thursday, April 19, 2007

You know, it's way too easy to travel the well-rutted roads of thought when it comes to the word "Church." Tons of people have written much better than I have about it. So - I pulled out my handy "search" in the scripture, focusing on "the body" of Christ...

I almost missed it. I mean, these verses really don't have to do with building a community of believers - at least not at first glance...

Luke 22:19

He took some bread and gave thanks to God for it. Then He broke it into pieces and gave it to the disciples, saying, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this to remember me."

And then...

Matt. 26:27 through Matt. 26:28
²⁷And He took a cup of wine and gave thanks to God for it. He gave it to them and said, “Each of you drink from it, ²⁸for this is my blood, which seals the covenant between God and his people. It is poured out to forgive the sins of many.

He took the bread in His hands, broke it - "This is my Body, given for you..."

He took the wine - "This is my blood... poured out to forgive the sins of many."

His body... His blood...

If we are the "church" - if we are His "body" does this mean we are to be broken... poured out... given away?

You know, I always kind of looked to Church to be a safe haven - a place of love and family. A place to learn and laugh and worship and grow. But it hit me tonight as I read this, if we are His body - His body - this is so much more than a sheepfold.

His body wrapped a servants towel around it, and knelt to wash disciples feet...

His body walked into the Temple and drove the racketeers away...

His body healed the sick, raised the dead...

His body spoke peace to the waves and walked on water...

His body knelt to pray in Gethsemane, alone and in anguish.

His body felt ripping of the whip... the puncture of thorns... felt the weight of wooden beams that would be the means of its death.

His body was nailed to a cross...

"This is my body, given for you..."

Now, we are His body. I guess this means we don't exist for ourselves - we're here to be broken in the hands of Jesus to give life to the world.

If we are indeed becoming a church, this is all part of it....

We love (we are His body)

We bring healing to the sick (we are His body)

We feed the hungry (we are His body)

We trash the racketeers in the house of God (we are His body)

We love some more (we are His body)

We bring real life to the dead ...

One more thing. We are His body, resurrected, set free from the domain of darkness and walking into the light. We are shining, laughing, and unconquerable for we are the body of Christ - seated with Him high above every power, throne and authority...

Eph. 1:22

²²And God has put all things under the authority of Christ, and He gave Him this authority for the benefit of the church. ²³And the church is His body; it is filled by Christ, who fills everything everywhere with His presence.

We are His body. We are the Church.

Its a silvery kind of day, flurries flying and Spring is still asleep. It's stirred itself restlessly, but it is hangover slow in coming alive...

Sometimes it feels as if life itelf is a Spring waiting to happen... that life - my real life is stirring beneath the surface, inches from sunlight and warm rain. The older I get the closer I feel to this awakening. Strange. When I was in my twenties, life was so swept up in the drama of "me," I thought that springtime simply meant romantic adventure. When I hit my 30's - even my 40's - I was busy becoming a grown-up, real live person - not just a will-o-the-wisp possibility. Life was full of learning and loving and friends and sorrows and struggles and all those things that make our lives full and empty at the same time. I lost father... mother... and brother in these years. These are the years I began to learn who God really is. It was like a King Tut's tomb of treasure, being unearthed bit by bit - spiritual riches beyond my imaginings. God years.  Good years. Kind of hard but get rooted years. And now...

I'm waiting for spring. I'm ready - I didn't say capable, I said ready - to be new born again... To crack the safe and solid shell of myself and let the life break through. The Jesus riches I discovered in my 30's are far richer and deeper and more mysterious than I ever dreamed. All  the losses and loves and failings unleashed the persistent bloodhounds of God's grace and goodness  - and  now they're digging at the unbroken surface of the soil.  I want to begin again. I want to let God-life take over, push me out of myself and into the world.  I'm scared to say this, but I want to give myself away.  There's so much learn, to think, to feel, to embrace in this  ancient, golden field of grace .  And a laughing, golden sun - His Son, is calling me to break through sleeping soil and find new life.

Ramblings. Musings.

But more, I think... My Daddy-God amazes me in how He breaks the molds. How he can take a 50 something woman and make Spring begin to bloom in her heart. Not sure where this is leading - or even if it makes sense... I just know, as I look out on a world of gray skies and cold snow - there is more.

Resurrection...