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Meditation on Transition: What Jesus’ Teaches Us About Being Sent

“…and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well” Matthew 6:33

My wife and I love the mission of God. In hindsight, it has fueled so many of our life choices and endeavors: where we will live, what jobs we will take, the friends we will make; you name it. It is so much the bedrock of who we are that, before we could ever even articulate it, we were drawn to it in the form of a community called New City Church in Lexington, Kentucky, a church whose vocabulary simply oozes mission and purpose. I mean, their core values, the lenses through which they primarily make decisions about what stays, goes, and gets created, are love, rest, risk, and send. Send, meaning that we are committed to the commissioning of the people of God for the purposes of God both near and far in our communities. It was a no brainer. People who knew us well might have seen it coming a mile away.

What we didn’t see coming is that we would be the ones who would be sent far. Far, as in 3 hours away from the community that was sending us. Far, as in, no longer close enough to visit and encourage our friends on a daily basis. Far, as in, leaving our jobs, ministry entrustments, favorite restaurants, known roads, neighbors, and everything else in Lexington, Kentucky for the unfamiliar in Delaware, Ohio. In short, my wife and I are in transition. What makes this transition hard is not necessarily the amount of time we have spent here (it’s the shortest amount of time we have lived anywhere), but the intensity of the life we have lived here. It’s led to what feels like an equally intense transition process.

If you have uprooted yourself before, you know a lot of stuff comes up in transition: insecurities, fears, second-guesses, questions, vulnerabilities, lies, and the like. My wife and I went all in in our relationships. We invested heavily in our community. We sacrificed, in the moment, what felt like a lot in almost every area of our lives, and had been experiencing the good and tangible spiritual fruit of those decisions. Yet now we are committed to leaving much of it behind, being vulnerable, and venturing out into the unknown.

In this season, perhaps a great source of peace has been looking at the most intense time of transition for Jesus, his temptation in the wilderness (Matthew 4). Jesus has just finished a 30 year stint as a physical laborer in relative obscurity. Aside from his training in the scriptures, which all Jews received in some form, he has no degrees, assessments, strengths conditioning, strategic plans, demographics, or denominational support to make his ministry a “success.” Regardless, he has just been commissioned by his Father and his community through the baptism of John and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. In the overall narrative of Jesus, we know that he is about to step into an intense life of spiritual warfare, teaching, healing, and multiplication that will literally change the face of the world – but there must first come transition and temptation in the wilderness, and his responses have encouraged me.

His first temptation is to turn stones into bread (v. 4). Jesus has been fasting (as in, no food) and is hungry, his physical needs surely pressing in on his faith and conscious as he thinks about and prepares for what is to come. I’ve found the question of physical need always sneaks up on me in dark times. I get so excited about the call to a new opportunity that reality strikes when people ask questions like, “Where will you work? How will you live? Who is your support? How will you put food on the table?” When these questions come, Satan stokes the flames of my scarcity mindset. I quickly become terrified of running out of money. I begin to guard my resources and am tempted to become bitter about the call. I lash out at my wife for what seems like “frivolous spending.” This was not Jesus’ response. Instead he says, “’Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God’” (NIV, v.4). I wonder if this is where Jesus learned the lesson he taught his disciples in Matthew 6:

“But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek all these things; and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well” (vv. 30-33).

Jesus’ second temptation is to throw himself from the top of the temple, so that the Father can prove his loyalty and faithfulness to him by saving his life. It’s a question of trust. So much of my transition has been long periods of excitement and planning, punctuated by a few intense days of emotional doubt and frustration. I begin to doubt and ask questions, “Am I really cut out for this? Did God really call us? Am I hearing God correctly?” or “Did I hear him at all?” The confidence disappears and saps every ounce of momentum and energy from me. However, Jesus replies to Satan in this moment: “Do not put the Lord your God to the test” (v. 7). This is not blind acceptance or masochist-looking obedience. This is Jesus, a mature son of God, likely looking back at the faithfulness of God throughout his life and asking the question, “Has the Father failed me yet?” I’m certain the answer for him is, “no.” It is for me too.

Finally, Jesus is taken to a high point and shown all of the nations of the world, his for the taking, if he would simply compromise his mission and heart to worship Satan. It’s a question of glory and priority. My internal pride and willingness to compromise on what I know is right can at times be overwhelming. As a person gifted with vision who often looks to the future, at times I can become overwhelmed with thoughts of personal glory and influence. I’m confronted with  the very real question, “In my leadership, is my desire for people to worship me or worship Jesus?” Sometimes the answer is obvious; other times it is less clear. However, Jesus’ words ring clearly into my confusion, “’Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only’” (v. 10). I pray for the strength to make this the truth of my heart.

It’s possible this might seem like a bleak picture of transition. It is true that you lose a lot when you uproot yourself. But remember, you also gain a lot: courage, patience, faith, a desperation for God’s still, small voice. I have not been perfect in this season or any other. Sometimes all I can talk about is what the Lord will do with our new opportunities, while other times I am overwhelmed with anger or sadness at the thought of leaving. I don’t know how a perfectly humble man like Jesus felt in this moment of transition, but I am inspired by his example of faithfulness. May we also look to him in whatever season we are in and present our hopes, fears, emotions, and desires to him, the one who withstood all temptation.

Blessings all!

 

Jordan McCain, New City Stories Contributor

 

Featured Image: The Temptation in the Wilderness, by Briton Rivière (1898); Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

Being Sent to Follow: What Sukkot Teaches us about Sending

“…that your generations may know that I made the people of Israel dwell in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” Leviticus 23:43

Happy Sukkot!  Let us meditate on the Feast of Tabernacles!

Growing up in a Jewish family meant that from late September through late October we would celebrate Sukkot.  The main way we celebrated was by building a temporary structure in our backyard to represent a “booth” or a temporary structure. There were many days we had the purest intentions to sleep outside, but growing up in Colorado during this time of the year…I always ended up back in my cozy bed.

So what is Sukkot and why dig into this while we meditate on our core value of “Send?” Sukkot is the festival of Tabernacles, a “gathering of the year’s end.”  This holiday has agricultural significance as it marks the end of the harvest time and the agricultural year in Israel. However, this season draws its deepest significance from the Exodus story and the deep dependence that the Hebrew people displayed on the will of God (Leviticus 23:42-43). How powerful is it that as our own community here at New City spends time on our core value of “send,” we have the opportunity to celebrate and remember what this means through this festival?

Sukkot is the remembrance of a community on the move, dependent on the Lord, and believing in a destination. Would you utilize these passages and prompt questions to guide you?

God’s people on the move…

  • Exodus 25:28
    • What does the word “dwell” mean to you?
    • What is the significance of God’s promise to dwell with us?
    • How are you experiencing God dwelling with you as you “tabernacle” with Him?
    • Check out Revelation 21:2-23
  • Numbers 9:15-23
    • What guided the Israelites to get up and move? Do we live this way now pertaining to the presence of God as our guide?
    • The tabernacle exemplified intimacy with the Lord, but there was flexibility (could be up for 2 days, a month, or a year) and mobility. How does this challenge and inform us as we meditate on “send”?
    • What would it look like to see our church as more of a tabernacle than a temple?

God’s people dependent on the Lord…

  • Are you living dependent on the Lord as you live sent, like the Israelites depended on the pillar of cloud and fire?
  • Sukkot celebrates God’s people’s dependence on Him as they wandered. How can we remember and celebrate our dependence on God as we are sent, wandering in the world with mission and promise?
  • Exodus 13:21-22
    • What provision did the pillars provide?
  • Exodus 14:24
    • How have you seen God’s protection as we live sent?
  • Exodus 16:1-36
    • How have you seen God’s provision as you are on the move living sent?
    • Have there been any unique directions or promises from God as you are on the move?

God’s people believing in a destination…

  • What destination do you have in mind as a Christ-follower?
  • Joshua 3:1-17
    • What directions do you see in their  “last steps” as they arrive?
  • Numbers 13:1-33
    • How are you being one of the 2 and not the 10 as you are living sent?
      • What does it require?

As we explore our core value of “Send,” we are usually moved to think about the Great Commission, Acts 1:8 into Acts 8:1, and so on. What if we took time to see how the men and women of the Old Testament lived sent lives in dependence on the Lord? Let’s take time this week to think about the significance of the tabernacle and what that says about our God and how that might inform how we engage with God in His mission in the world.  

 

Zach Meerkreebs, Lead Planter and New City Stories Contributor 

Being is More Important than Doing

Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?  Matthew 6:26 NRSV

For the majority of my adolescence, I thought I had the answer to the meaning of life. I thought it was logical, biblical, and honestly, kind of easy. When someone at youth group or at school would begin to discuss why we were created, I pulled my answer out of my holster of ready-made Sunday School answers, throwing Matthew 28:19-20 at them with a sure smile.

Obviously, I thought, we were created for the Great Commission, to go and make disciples of all nations. We were created for missions. We were created to do things for God. I lived through that paradigm for a long time. I did as many things for God as I could, whether at church, with nonprofits, or even at school. My life became a scrapbook of all the activities I thought were giving me purpose, a resume rapidly lengthening.

I didn’t think anything compared to the importance of doing things for God, even pursuit of relationships. All my works came from a genuine place of loving and wanting to serve God, so I assumed the tiredness that snowballed over time was normal. I thought it was probably just part of the experience of being a Christian. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, I was striving to give God reasons to love me.

When God called me to seminary, I thought he was giving me the chance to go to a perfect place to do even more things for him. I was surprised to find God’s expectations were a little less stringent than mine. After arriving at seminary, I started to question the paradigm I had trusted for so long. I felt uncomfortable and a little disoriented as I traversed readings about concepts like rest and love. In the short time I had spent attending New City, the preaching and teaching there had simultaneously pressed me and pulled me in, like both sides of a magnet, always giving an appealing yet perplexing perspective on how to live for God through love and rest. I didn’t know what to do with the magnitude of God’s love I was beginning to glimpse.

Then, one Sunday, Zach challenged us to pray a bold prayer for God to wreck us. In my desperation, I did. In his love, God agreed.

God had begun to deconstruct my paradigm of doing to earn love. Piece by piece, realization by realization, He was breaking me down until all that was left was a vague idea of who I was and no real reason for my own existence. However, God used my blank canvas to paint a more comforting and freeing paradigm than I could have imagined. This is what I learned.

When God created the world, it was sinless. At the time, there was no need for missions. He created everything, including humans, and for a while, everything was good. No one needed to be evangelized. This wrecked my Sunday school answer. Without having things to do for God, I had no purpose. I had no way to measure up or earn his love. I had nothing to strive for. I had no reason to exist. In the midst of all my seminarian pondering of the things of the deep, I realized the way I had always framed my purpose had placed undue pressure on my life. It was too self-centered. It was too complicated.

I realized my real purpose belonged not in my doing, but in my being.

Before creation of the earth, people, or even the construct of time, God existed relationally in three persons: the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – who love better and more deeply than we can fathom. God alone defines love. God is love, and love existed before the world was created. Love created the world. Love created us. We were created because of a love so strong it wouldn’t keep to itself, so it overflowed and manifested itself in the creation of you, me, your best friend, my mom, that guy on the bus, and everybody else. To put it simply, God created us to hang out. Seriously, God created us for relationship. He created us out of love and for love, so he could love us and so we could love Him back. He created us, even knowing ahead of time about all the messed up stuff we would do, because even then He thought we were worth it.

Even now, He continues to create. He still thinks we’re worth it. Love existed before mission was even necessary, and love will outlast its necessity. Worship will outlast it. We were made for worship. We were made for love. In the meantime, God does call us to do many things, and we shouldn’t ignore those calls, but our purpose is greater than the fulfillment of a checklist.

As these pieces came together, I realized all the things I did for God over the years seemed meager when overshadowed by the immense amount of love God has for me. I realized that simply being is more important than doing. God wants us to be with him—in love, in kindness, in patience, in joy, and in all the good things to which He calls us. I used to think these things were what I needed to do for God to pay attention to me, but I realize now those things are what God invites us to be, with him and through him. Love is not a thing we do, a place we visit occasionally, or our day job; rather, it is the house we’re called to live in.

Ultimately, life is not about anything we can do for God. It’s about what He’s already done for us. The way He lived out love allows us to simply be redeemed, be rested, be fulfilled, and be His. Ultimately, the point of our lives is to be loved, and that can start right now, before we can do anything about it.

 

Rachel Smith, New City Stories Contributor