making a meal of it …

Luke 7:36-50

Are we hungry yet?

I ask this because we share in a new experience, seeing the worship service and following meal as a single expression of our being Christ’s church in this city today.

I imagine that for many of us, this will actually be our second meal of the day, because if we have heard it said, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” then we will have already fed our brains for all that we have to do.

Some eat a cooked breakfast of sausages and bacon and eggs and beans and mushrooms and potato pancakes and … I think that’s enough of that.

Others have cereal and toast, with a little marmalade, and others think it’s a great time to enjoy doughnuts and leftover apple pie and Danish pastries and maybe even muffins and yogurts – have I forgotten anything?

Are we hungry yet?

I love food but I think I love it most of all when I get to share it with others. I guess I am seeing more and more how I need to receive mealtimes as a wonderfully necessary interruption to the other activities of a day – though I have to confess that often I have much to still learn, as I stuff mouthfuls of food, trying not to leave crumbs that will drop into the computer or to be squashed between the pages of my books.

At the moment, my end-of-the-day easy reading is John Grisham's Playing for Pizza, set in Italy, which is where we’ve just been on holiday, and, like our own experience of Italy, is overflowing with food. And whilst others laid themselves in the sun as human barbecues, Christine and I would find a café, look out onto the lake, sunshine, sweet breezes, a slice of torte and a drink ... and a good book to read.

Some reading I had wanted to weave through the holiday was Luke's Gospel. Something I read in N T Wright's The Challenge of Jesus prompted me to do this. Just before my holiday began, I read his suggestion that there are eight meals in Luke - so I thought I'd see if I could identify which they are. I won’t list them all for you now – they can be found in some reflections I have put on my blog, but one we have already heard and I will mention another in a moment or two, (http://geoffreybaines.blogspot.com/).

John and I have met a couple of times in order to prepare together for this day. He was my host at … the Scotch Malt Whisky Society … and whilst John had coffee and I had water, he had a wonderful sandwich ready for me. So, in a meal together, this service began. John had brought along the Gospel reading for today, from John’s Gospel, the post-resurrection-passage in which Jesus prepares breakfast for the disciples, who are fishing.

We talked together about the significance of meals in the scriptures, and therefore felt something of how important our meal is today for our future life. So, after I’d enjoyed my brie, red onion, and salad sandwich, and my mobile phone had gone off much to the chagrin of the barman who gave us a dark look, we parted to set on our exploration for today.

And here are some of the discoveries about why sharing meals are big in the Gospels. The reason for their significance comes into sharper view when we follow Tom Wright's argument that Jesus replaced the position of the temple in the life of Israel with a meal, his 'own alternative symbol, the kingdom-feast, the new exodus feast,' and that 'Those who shared the meal with him were the people of the renewed covenant, [...] Grouped around him, they constituted the true eschatological Israel.'

This is why I have hinted that the worship service we’re involved in today may be the beginning of something new for us, not because we’re having a meal – we’ve done that before – but because it is more than a meal, it’s a picture of who we might be and what we might do – because these are really two things even as they are one.

I want to suggest that the meal we are going to share in today is lunch, but is lunch in more ways than one, and here is why.

Firstly, you need to know that running through all my thinking about meals is an icon alternatively titled The Hospitality of Abraham and The Trinity, by Andrei Rublev – you have it on one of your sheets this morning. This icon has become very special to me in the seven or eight years since I was introduced to it, representing as it does, the three travellers received as guests by Abram and Sarai in Genesis 18, traditionally thought to be God visiting this elderly couple.

Whenever I look at this image I am reminded of how God is always welcoming me to his table in order to spend some time with him - to be with him.

Notice the space at the table in the foreground. That's my place, and that's your place too. Recently, I have been thinking of it as my “breakfast-table,” the place I sit at the beginning of my day. This first "table of God" in a day is, for me, a personal one.

The second "table of God" I am increasingly aware of needing to come to is a communal table: when I meet with others of God's people, when we enjoy God together and we enjoy one another. I think often the truth is we do not find this as enjoyable as it might be, and we must admit that we have much to learn about coming to God’s table of community.

Of course, this table will find many expressions, as we learn to live more freely in the creativity God has gifted us. This table will be found in homes and places of retreat, in numbers of people we used to call “bands” and “classes” but we also know that one of the important places is when we all gather together. And we will be amazed at the recipes that will be shared and the menus we enjoy together.

I don't know about you but I was very much brought up with the idea that it’s important to have "three square meals" a day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner (or, breakfast, dinner, and tea, if you come from Yorkshire, as I do). I was not allowed to skip a meal by my mother as a child, and now I am not allowed to skip a meal by my wife - C'est la vie! But they are both right, and you may be agreeing with them, too.

Now, when a meal is not food but is a picture, or a metaphor, or an icon - a gateway to some greater reality - then we begin to see how so many people skip the meals they are invited to share at the table of God.

Jesus ate at these three tables - Henri Nouwen noticed how Jesus lived his life with a rhythm, or cycle, of solitude and community and and ministry - there is the "breakfast" of personal time with God, there is the "lunchtime" of time together in community with God and one-another … and, there is the "dinnertime" of missional tables with God and the world he loves, something we can see in another of the meals Luke includes, about how the banquet house of God needs to be full (Luke 14:23).

The older I get the more I know that I can't skip any of these meals: how I need the personal time; how I need the time with others in purposeful community; and, how I need to come to the missional table of God, if I am to live life with God - if I am to live the life that is God.

These kingdom meals open a larger and more beautiful world to us, and so very crucially, to others, who discover how we are learning to prepare far more exciting meals than the “meat and two veg” we have got into the the rut of serving.

As I reflect on the icon and on the meals Luke wrote about, I became aware of the disruption. Although Abraham welcomes the three strangers, it is the strangers who become the host in Rublev's icon. Is this artistic licence on the part of Rublev, or did he see something more, perhaps how in Luke's meals Jesus is the guest invited to the table who then becomes the host, most strikingly in the eighth meal, in Emmaus.

More disruptive still is the meal at Simon the Pharisee's home - I think of our three meals we would call this dinner – a missional meal - where it is the woman who gatecrashes the meal, who, perhaps unknowingly, becomes the host - until Jesus points out that this is exactly what she is doing.

I wonder if this is as disturbing to you as it is disturbing to me: What kind of kingdom of God is this? Inviting the stranger to the table and then allowing the stranger to become the host?

Do we dare welcome strangers and then invite these strangers to become our hosts?

Surely it's our church?

Doesn't it take many years to "get our feet under the table" - before something like this can happen?

The truth is that the meal stories are highly subversive. Jesus appears to have little problem incorporating some of the most significant and disturbing kingdom business in a meal, including the mystery and glory poured into the Passover meal: sacrifice and death served up with the different courses.

Whenever God's people come together, there is a choice: we can eat some food together because it's expedient to do so, or we can come to the table of God and enter into the mystery - where the lonely share a meal with others, where hurts are laid down and healing is found, where empty people are filled to bursting point, and where joyless people find laughter, and above all, were love is spread thickly and freely by the stranger-God who is the host of the feast of life in all its fullness.

Some of these future meals will be community meals, and some will be missional meals. And again to say, these will be creative meals in different places and all kinds of menus but they will be beautiful things, expressions of loving God and loving people.

Are we hungry yet?

Brian McLaren shares this thought: 'I think this is what happens to all of us when we feel a pull toward God. Not many of us, I think, feel really excited about attending church or singing religious songs or stopping snarky comments or disciplining ourselves to pray. What we feel is that some music is missing from our lives, and we need it; we can't be fully ourselves as we hope to be without it,' (Finding Our Way Again).

Do we hear the music? - are we hungry yet? Perhaps they are one and the same thing. It's not church we want, it is to be fed at the table of God, an open table, of love and forgiveness and wholeness and purpose.

How do we become this kind of "church"? Now, that's a really good, a really exciting, question.

the meal ... another serving

Welcome to the conversation.

Once more I have written down some of the thoughts I have been working through towards Sunday.

I love food but I love it most of all when I get to share it with others. I guess I am seeing more and more how I need to receive mealtimes as a wonderfully necessary interruption to the other activities of a day.

At the moment my reading at the end-of-the-day is John Grisham's Playing for Pizza, which I'm really enjoying because it's set in Italy and I've just been there on holiday. Grisham's novel, like our own experience of Italy, is overflowing with food. Rather than laying out in the sun as human barbecues, my wife and I loved to sit in the local cafes, looking out on a lake - sunshine, sweet breezes, with a slice of torte and a drink ... and a good book to read.

Something I had decided to weave through the holiday was the reading through of Luke's Gospel. I was prompted to do this by something I read in N T Wright's The Challenge of Jesus just before my holiday began, a suggestion that there are eight meals in Luke - so I thought I'd see if I could spot just what they were.

What I found were many food and meal references in Luke's Gospel, but here's my best effort at listing the eight: 1) Matthew's Party (5:27-39); 2) Simon the Pharisee's invitation (7:36-50); 3) Feeding more than 5,000 (9:12-17); 4) Pharisees and washing hands (11:37-41); 5) A Pharisee's invitation and the announcement of the Great Banquet (14:1-24); 6) At Zacchaeus' place (intimated - 19:1-10); 7) The Passover (22:1-23); and, 8) the meal in Emmaus.

Wright asks us to particularly notice the seventh and eighth meals, pointing to a link between the "week" of Genesis creation and the new creation in Luke: 'the week of the first creation is over, and Easter is the beginning of the new creation. God's new world order has arrived.'

Meals are big in the Gospels and the reason for their significance comes into sharper view when we follow Wright's argument that Jesus replaced the position of the temple in the life of Israel with a meal, his 'own alternative symbol, the kingdom-feast, the new exodus feast,' and that 'Those who shared the meal with him were the people of the renewed covenant, [...] Grouped around him, they constituted the true eschatological Israel.'

I reason I share these things is because I have been preparing a message for Sunday and thought I'd do some reflecting through my blog. The worship service I'm involved in is the beginning of something new for a church facing a new beginning - a shorter service followed by a communal meal - and I have more than an inkling that it is something important for the congregation to the extent of shaping its future. I think the meal is going to be lunch for this congregation in more than one way and I'll tell you why.

Firstly, running through all my thinking about meals is an icon alternatively titled The Hospitality of Abraham and The Trinity, by Andrei Rublev (see above). The icon has become very special to me in the seven or eight years since I was introduced to it, representing as it does, the three travellers received as guests by Abram and Sarai in Genesis 18, traditionally thought to be God visiting the elderly couple.

Whenever I look at this image I am reminded of how God is welcoming me to his table in order to spend some time with him - to be.

Notice the space at the table in the foreground. That's my place, and that's your place too. Recently, I have been thinking of it as my breakfast table, the place I sit at the beginning of my day. This first "table of God" in a day for me is a personal one.

The second "table of God" I need to sit at in my day is a communal table: when I meet with others who are God's people, and we enjoy him and enjoy one another. This is lunch - and this is the kind of meal I think the congregation is going to enjoy.

I don't know about you but I was very much brought up with the idea that it is important to have "three square meals" a day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner (or, breakfast, dinner, and tea, if you come from Yorkshire, as I do). I was not allowed to skip a meal by my mother as a child, and now I am not allowed to skip a meal by my wife - C'est la vie! But they are both right, and you may be agreeing with them.

When the meal becomes a metaphor, or an icon, we begin to see how many people are skipping the meals they are invited to share at the table of God. Jesus ate at these three tables - Henri Nouwen noticed how Jesus lived his life through a rhythm or cycle of solitude, community, and ministry - there is the "breakfast" of personal time with God, there is the "lunchtime" of time together in community, and, there is the "dinnertime" of missional tables with God, something we see in one of the meals Luke records, about the banquet house of God needing to be full (Luke 14:23).

I know I can't skip any of these meals, no matter what I might come up with as an excuse: I know more now than ever in my life, how I need the personal time, how I need the community time, and how I need the missional time, if I am to live this life with God - if I am to live the life that is God.

The kingdom meals open a larger and more beautiful world to us. As I reflect on the icon and on Luke's recording of a number of meals, I became aware of disruption. Although Abraham welcomes the three strangers, it is the strangers who become the host in Rublev's icon. Is this artistic licence on the part of Rublev or did he see something more, perhaps how in a number of Luke's meals Jesus is the guest invited to the table but who then becomes the host, most strikingly in the eighth meal, in Emmaus.

More disruptive still is the meal at Simon the Pharisee's home, where it is actually the woman who gatecrashes the meal, who, perhaps unknowingly, becomes the host - until Jesus points out that this is exactly what she is doing.

I wonder if this is disturbing you as it is disturbing me: What kind of kingdom is this, inviting the stranger and then allowing the stranger to become the host?

I wonder what this will mean to the people coming to the service I'll be at on Sunday; I wonder what it will mean to so many churches.

Dare we welcome strangers and then invite these strangers to become our hosts?

Surely it's our church?

Doesn't it take many years to "get our feet under the table" - before something like this can happen?

These meal stories are highly subversive. Jesus appears to have little problem incorporating some of the most significant kingdom business in a meal, including the mystery and glory poured into the Passover meal.

As I was thinking through all of this, I read these words from Rick McKinley: 'Have you ever received communion from a beautiful eight-year-old girl who looks at you with eyes of wonder? "This is the body of Christ, broken for you," she says, holding up a piece of bread,' (This Beautiful Mess).

Whenever God's people come together, there is a choice: we can eat some food together because it's expedient to do so, or we can come to the table of God and enter into the mystery - where the lonely share a meal with others, where hurts are laid down and healing is found, where empty people are filled to bursting point, and where joyless people find laughter, and above all, were love is spread thickly and freely by the stranger-God who is the host of the feast of life in all its fullness.

Are we hungry yet?

Brian McLaren shares this thought: 'I think this is what happens to all of us when we feel a pull toward God. Not many of us, I think, feel really excited about attending church or singing religious songs or stopping snarky comments or disciplining ourselves to pray. What we feel is that some music is missing from our lives, and we need it; we can't be fully ourselves as we hope to be without it,' (Finding Our Way Again).

Do we hear the music? Are we hungry yet? Perhaps they are the same thing. It's not church we want, it's to be fed at the table of God, an open table, of love and forgiveness and wholeness and purpose.

How do we become this kind of "church"? Now, that's a really good, a really exciting question.

What do you think?

the meal ... continued

Welcome to the conversation.

I am continuing to follow my thoughts towards Sunday. I have reworked yesterday's offering - hopefully not serving it up as "re-heat."

I love food but I don't love it nearly as much if I have to eat it on my own. eating then simply becomes something I have to do for sustenance, but when I eat with others, food and conversation are a delightful fruit and occupation of a shared meal.

At the moment my end-of-the-day reading is Playing for Pizza by John Grisham, a story set in Italy and simply overflowing with food. And as I have just been to Italy on holiday I very much appreciate the scenes drawn by the author. Rather than laying out in the sun as human barbecues, my wife and I loved to sit in the local cafes, looking out on a lake, with a slice of torte and a drink ... and a book to read.

One of the things I had decided to weave through my holiday was to read through Luke's Gospel. I had been prompted by something I had just read in N T Wright's The Challenge of Jesus, a suggestion that there are eight meals in the Gospel, so I thought I'd see if I could spot just what they were.

If you read through Luke's Gospel what you will find are lots of food and meal references. Here's my best effort at listing the eight: 1) Matthew's Party (5:27-39); 2) Simon the Pharisee's invitation (7:36-50); 3) Feeding more than 5,000 (9:12-17); 4) Pharisees and washing hands (11:37-41); 5) Pharisees and healing on the sabbath; 6) At Zacchaeus' place (intimated - 19:1-10); 7) The Passover (22:1-23); and, 8) the meal in Emmaus. Notice the seventh and eighth meals, leading Wright to point out the link between the "week" of Genesis creation and the new creation in Luke: 'the week of the first creation is over, and Easter is the beginning of the new creation. God's new world order has arrived.'

The reason these meals are so significant for us comes into sharper view when we follow N T Wright's argument that Jesus was replacing the temple with a meal, his 'own alternative symbol, the kingdom-feast, the new exodus feast,' and that 'Those who shared the meal with him were the people of the renewed covenant, [...] Grouped around him, they constituted the true eschatological Israel.'

I share these things with you because I'm beginning to prepare a message for Sunday and thought I'd jot them down in my blog. The worship service I'm involved in is the beginning of something new for a new beginning of a church - a shorter service followed by a communal meal, and I have more than an inkling that this is going to be something important for the congregation, to the extent of possibly defining a significant part of who and what this God-community is meant to be.

Running through my thinking about all of this is an icon which has made a big impact on my life, alternatively called The Hospitality of Abraham and The Trinity Icon, by Andrei Rublev (see above). The icon represents the three travellers received as guests by Abram and Sarai in Genesis 18, traditionally thought of as God visiting the elderly couple.

I have loved this icon ever since being introduced to it some seven or eight years ago, for in it I know God is welcoming me to his table to spend some time with him, to be. Notice the space at the table in the foreground. That's my place, and that's your place. Recently, it has become my breakfast table, the first place I sit at the beginning of my day. For others it may be a supper table, or a welcoming table for some other time of day. God wants to spend time with us.

The thing about it is that although Abraham welcomed the three strangers, it is the strangers who become the host! This is the thing about a number of Luke's meal passages. Jesus is the one who is invited to the table but it is he who becomes the host, most notably in the eighth meal, in Emmaus. At Simon the Pharisee's home, it is actually the woman who gatecrashes the meal who, perhaps unknowingly, becomes the host, until Jesus points out that this is what she is doing.

I don't know if this is getting to you, but it's getting to me. What kind of kingdom is this, that invites the stranger and then allows the stranger to become the host?

What does this mean for the people who are coming to the meal on Sunday? Dare they become welcomers of strangers and then invite these strangers to become their hosts? Surely it's their church? Surely you have to be there for many years to "get your feet under the table" before you can something like this can happen?

I have found these stories of meals to be highly subversive. Some of the most amazing kingdom moments were lived out in meals. One meal holds the unique and crowning glory of Jesus' ministry ... in a meal!

(I share a small table with God in the morning but he also invites me to share a huge table with many others.)

More than simply eating food together on Sunday, this meal holds the promise for a group of people as a living picture of God's table, a table of kingdom closeness, an icon, or window, into the greater reality of the stranger-God who has visited us and who has become the host of life.

Are we hungry yet?

Brian McLaren shares this thought: 'I think this is what happens to all of us when we feel a pull toward God. Not many of us, I think, feel really excited about attending church or singing religious songs or stopping snarky comments or disciplining ourselves to pray. What we feel is that some music is missing from our lives, and we need it; we can't be fully ourselves as we hope to be without it,' (Finding Our Way Again).

Do we hear the music? Are we hungry yet? Perhaps they are the same thing. It's not church we want, it's to be fed at the table of God, an open table, where everyone can find love and forgiveness and wholeness and purpose.

And how do we become that kind of "church"? That is an exciting question.

What do you think?

the meal

Welcome to the conversation.

I love food but I don't love it nearly as much if I have to eat it on my own. eating then simply becomes something I have to do to sustain myself, but when I eat with others, food and conversation are a delightful fruit and occupation of a shared meal.

My end-of-the-day reading at the moment is Playing for Pizza by John Grisham, a story set in Italy and overflowing with food. Having just been to Italy on holiday this Summer, I very much appreciate the scenes being drawn by the author. Rather than laying out in the sun as human barbecues, my wife and I loved to sit in the local cafes, looking out on a lake, with some torte and a drink ... and a book to read.

One of the things I decided to weave through the holiday was to read through Luke's Gospel; I had read a comment in N T Wright's The Challenge of Jesus suggesting there are eight meals in this Gospel and so I thought to check out which these were: 'the week of the first creation is over, and Easter is the beginning of the new creation. God's new world order has arrived,' (Wright). I won't include them here but Luke did make a wonderful read at a long sitting, and whilst there are the meals, there are lots of other references to food and eating running through the verses.

The reason I'm sharing these things though, is because I am beginning to prepare a message for Sunday. The worship service is the beginning of something new - a shorter service followed by a communal meal. I have more than an inkling that this is going to be something important for the congregation, to the extent of possibly defining who and what it is meant to be.

I have been very much affected by an icon alternatively called The Hospitality of Abraham and The Trinity Icon by Andrei Rublev (see above). The icon represents the three travellers received as guests by Abram and Sarai in Genesis 18, traditionally thought of as being God visiting the elderly couple.

I have loved this icon ever since being introduced to it some seven or eight years ago, for in it I find God welcoming me to the table - note the space at the front of the icon - to spend some time with him, to be. Recently, it has become my breakfast table, the first place I sit at the beginning of my day. The welcomed stranger becomes the host!

This thought has been reinforced by N T Wright's claim that Jesus replaced the temple with a meal, his 'own alternative symbol, the kingdom-feast, the new exodus feast,' and that 'Those who shared the meal with him were the people of the renewed covenant, [...] Grouped around him, they constituted the true eschatological Israel.'

The meal, for the people coming together on Sunday, comes as a promise for who they might be, welcomers of guests with whom they will share good things at the table of God, welcomers of the strangers who becomes the hosts (think of what that might mean).

More than simply eating food together, it is a living picture of the kingdom of God, an icon, or window into the greater reality of God present with us.

This is simply a first attempt to put some thoughts down that I will hope to be adding to as the week continues. What do you think?

right where we are

Welcome to the conversation.

I was going to place this quite from Brian McLaren at the end of this post, but then thought how it's great to begin with .

As you read today's post have in mind what James writes in his letter: 1:2-7.

Here's the McLaren quote: You can't take an epidural shot to ease the pain of giving birth to character, (Finding Our Way Again).

The journey we are in is about character being formed in us. Not just any character but what my life would look like if Jesus were in my shoes, looking through my eyes; it is question which comes to each of us.

I've previously mentioned how this journey of life is meant to be lived with purpose, calling it a slow journey in the same direction - at least, that's how it feels to me as I hope to stay on-course.

Erwin McManus underlines this sense of purpose when he writes: The path to wisdom is less journey and more quest, (Uprising). In other words, this is not something we wander into by accident.

And it is not by accident that we have the capability to be reactive and proactive, to be responsive and prosponsive. It means we are future-shaping creatures, people who are actively involved in shaping history - in no way can this be seen as a passive life.

This is not about usurping God's place, rather it is truly about having an honest and humble appreciation of ourselves. It is so important that we understand how we are being invited by God into a life of creativity, with him, in order that we might make a difference in his world. This is nothing less than the way Jesus lived, and the way Jesus opened up for us to live.

When I respond to Jesus by saying "I will walk in your way" we are entering into the unknown with humility. This is a bigger response then the one I often find myself asking in the question, "What shall I do?" Here we face the truth that following Jesus is a lot more about a compass than it is about a map and this means I must cultivate the ability to hear his voice: To adequately answer the question "What do I have to offer?" we need to learn the art of listening to the voice of God's leading in our lives, (The Relational Way by Scott Boren).

In order to do this I must give myself to this through consistent activities that open me to the influence of the Holy Spirit. I wonder if what we often call spirituality ought to be thought of as humanality: the activity of the Holy Spirit in and through the ordinary things of life to become more human. Brian McLaren comments that spiritual practices are pretty earthy, and they're not strictly about spirituality as it is often defined, they're about humanity, (Finding Our Way Again).

But something truly mystical begins to happen when my spirit opens to the Holy Spirit, and I see things differently as I read a book or process new content, (Scott Boren). When this involves a number of people then a mystical community begins to take shape, a community that is experiencing and sharing something remarkable.

Now back to that opening quote.

What I am seeing more clearly is how this is happening in the least expected places. I have to conclude that James is right to share, in his Newer Testament letter, of how joy can be formed amongst 'trials of many kinds,' (1:2). It doesn't happen when we get to a better place, rather it happens right where we are, with our lives as they are right now. Here something stronger and more powerful is being formed - James identifies perseverance and maturity and completeness - and the test is whether we are 'strong in character and ready for anything,' (1:4).

It is a slow journey in the same direction that has to be lived with intention.

What do you think?

advanced-living

Welcome to the conversation.

Here's a question for those of you who are drivers: How many of you drive your car whilst continually looking in the rearview mirror, or, by enjoying the view out of the side windows?

You wouldn't do it, would you, because you know you wouldn't last very long?

(Actually, my dad often drove along whilst looking out of the side windows - very scary - the car often moving in the same direction as he was looking.)

This is how so many churches "travel" along though, more on where they've come from or where they are, rather than where they are going.

I confess my love for driving; in 1990 I got the chance to take my advanced driving test. Part of the preparation for this involved giving a running commentary to an assessor who sat in to prepare me for my test. The purpose of the commentary was to let my assessor know just how much I was seeing, including how far into the distance (future) I was looking.

The commentary did include what I could see in my rearview mirror and my instruments too - you are disciplined to cycle through looking into the forward distance, the rearview mirror, and at the instruments - but most of the time was spent looking forward.

Advanced living, like advanced driving, is about looking into the future. It doesn't ignore the "rearview mirror" because it's important to know where we have come from, but it knows that to do this too often or for to long is to invite an accident. Just as the "future" of my car journey informs how I drive now, so the possible future tells me how I must live now.

What do you think?

extra-potent-ials

Welcome to the conversation.

I concluded my post yesterday with the thought that a group of people living out their potential together is mission.

This is church. It is about a group of people living life beyond themselves, for the sake of others, and this involves movement. This is a community with purpose. Victor Turner calls the spirit of such community, communitas - it is about commitment, integrity, hard work, and courage in a common purpose. A collective name for such a group might be "an adventure of people (who understand God has a purpose for their lives)."

This will mean living with uncertainty because requiring us to leave the familiar and move into vital relationship. Indeed vital relationships are a mark or defining characteristic of these communities, as Victor Turner describes the leading edge people: Prophets and artists tend to be liminal people, "edgemen," who strive with a passionate sincerity to rid themselves of the cliches associated with status incumbency and role-playing and to enter into vital relations with other men in fact or imagination. (quoted in Michael Frost's Exiles)

Liminal people living in vital relationships for the sake of others, is essential if we are to live life towards greater clarity and understanding and expression, because they allow the future to open up before them as they are willing to live with the uncertainty of thought and activity - passionate people freed to live creatively.

There is another important element to all of this. If we do not live missionally - that is, living out our potential - then we "lose it". Jesus told a story in two ways (Matthew 25:14-30; Luke 19:11-27) in which one of the characters/servants has taken back what had been invested in him. Even as this servant tries to give back exactly what he'd been given, he finds the reality is that he is giving back less - it has already reduced through lack of use - because it ought to have had some interest on it.

I have been using the phrase missional community but perhaps N T Wright provides a more accurate phrase in messianic community because we are meant to be nothing less than the community of Jesus, the body of Christ, living out the mandate of Jesus in our communities. Jesus knew that the potential we share together is very great indeed, enough to represent him in living the good news - on one occasion Jesus suggested 'all who have faith in me will do even greater things than these,' (referring to his work, John 14:12).

What do you think?