A Community of Brothers

It's been a while since I sat down to write from the Sparrow's perch.  I needed to do a major renovation on my home in order to accommodate all of my children coming for Thanksgiving. With winter just around the corner, the sparrows don't flit and twitter outside my window, and my office is colder.  During the summer, I can open the window, and turn on the fan, but there is only one way to get warm during the winter.  My work schedule for the day gave me a short breather this morning, and I decided to take advantage of it.

As the Men's pastor for our congregation, I've been blessed to shepherd some of the most wonderful men I know. For the last year, we've been studying a book by Wes Yoder, titled: Bond of Brothers.  (There's more to the title, but it would give away what I'm about to say.) We're in the final chapter, and it is amazing how pertinent it is to what is going on in my own life. I'm in the waning years of my life, and while I'm not concerned with dying, I am concerned with how I exit this life.  If my family's genetics are written on me, and I've not circumvented them with stupid living habits, I should live well into my late seventies, even to my eighties.  Both of my grandmothers lived way past their eighties, and my paternal grandmother lived till she was in her nineties.  Needless to say, I anticipate a few more years, so I'm not being melodramatic when I talk about death.  I've just moved closer to the inevitable exit at the back of the theater.  Wes Yoder brings the important issues of being a Christ-man to the fore-front, and places them in their proper priority.  One of the things he makes so clear, is the Christ community is in trouble.  As I thought on this, I came away with a profound image of the man I want to be.

As anyone who's read this blog should know, I'm big on living in the presence of God. The title of this blog is derived from the Psalms where the Psalmist would sit outside the Tabernacle, and watch the sparrows move freely in and out of the one place men were forbidden to go.  Then, Christ opened a new, and more excellent way into the Holy of Holies.  Now, we can all go freely where only sparrows could go before.  If we want, we can even crawl up into the Father's lap, and say; 'abba'  (Daddy.)  Imagine, you the created, jumping into the Creator's lap, and calling him 'Daddy.'  It is a remarkable place of awe, inspiration, joy, and even provision.  Who better to take care of you than your Daddy?  AND, what a Daddy he is.

As I read Wes Yoders final chapter, it suddenly came upon me that the work of the Cross brought the Presence of God into a different light.  We don't just climb up in the Father's lap alone.  We are part of a larger being, with different needs than our own petty needs.  The community of faith, albeit strained and imperfect, is the presence of Christ.  The men who allow me to lead them, give to me a greater experience of God's presence than I can have on my own.  If I want to know the Father's heart, He gives me brothers to show me His heart.

Knowing the Father's heart without my brothers is a scary thought.  IF, (suppositional)  the Father is compassionate, He will bless me with people who are in need of compassion.  If the Father is kind, He will demand that I show kindness to those for whom the act means nothing.  If I am to learn how to be gentle, He will bless me with brutish men who try my own strength.  Within this body of men I call my brothers, who seek His Presence as I do, the bond of brothers moves me to evaluate my actions in light of their actions.  We encourage, build up, admonish, and teach one another.  Here in the presence of each other, we hone the edge of our relationship, so that our walk through this earthly vale will be as Christ walks.

ALONE, I am not the body of Christ.  It is only as I yield, (or better yet, the ugly word - SUBMIT,) to my brothers, that I find myself in the presence of Christ.  Alone, I do what I do as a member of that body.  I consider myself to be the less comely member, the one that is kept clothed (hidden) and hidden from view.  I know me better than anyone.  I tend to be abrupt, sharp, and to the point. My interests are few, and my tolerance low.  Yet, somehow when I am with my brothers in the Lord, these qualities disappear into a gentler, kinder, and less brutish persona . . . .Christ.    Christ is the Presence of God, and when I am with my Brothers in the Lord, he is more real than at any other time.  

THIS SKIN I'M IN

I can’t remember a moment in my life when I wasn't aware of . . . GOD. 

Even in those times of perverse delight in the wicked pleasures of this world, I knew HE existed.  I've lived in fear of HIM, loved HIM, and have always wanted to be as close to HIM as He would allow.  What I didn't know, is that HE will let me get as close as I want.  I'd always been taught that in order to get close to him, I would have to die. From childhood, I've always seen death as the end to the struggle between my skin, and my spirit.  I've wrestled with the great adversary of our souls, and tweaked his nose on more than one occasion.  He threatened to kill me numerous times, and I told him to go ahead, do your best.  ( I knew my days were in God’s hands, not some amateur wanting to be God.)  I've always got a kick out of the people who say, “You don’t want to torque the devil off, he’ll take you out.”  

He can’t take me out. 

It’s a moot point. I've already been taken out. The last I knew, this skin I’m in will die.  I was born dead, but now I’m born again.  Forty-seven years ago, I received spiritual CPR, and this skin I’m in became a new creation.  I can’t live in fear of death, and claim to know the one who died to give me life.  As for being afraid of the devil, when I was born again, I was destined to wrestle with the powers, and principalities of the air.  The devil can’t stand the Spirit of Christ dwelling within a bag of bones, and skin.  Actually, the guy that really bothers me, is the one who used to live in the skin I’m in.

NO, I’m not mentally ill, although some people might argue that point. A matter of fact, I’m sure that Psychologists would have a field day in many churches.  (If you really want to mess with a psychologist, begin talking between your id, ego, and talk to your hand as if it were a sock puppet.)  When they begin to cock an eyebrow, look at them with a big wide grin, and say;  “You bought it!  You’re so gullible!” 

 

This skin I’m in is growing tired physically.  To wax scriptural, my tent is becoming threadbare.  I wasn't prepared for that.  Actually, I never thought I would live beyond my sixteenth year.  This bothered me for a long time.  Scriptural error, false teaching, and even my own misunderstanding messed me up.  I had a messed up idea of what salvation was.  Sometime around my thirties, I began to doubt God’s mercy, until I found out one little truth; this skin I’m in can bring glory to God.  It’s not messed up!  This skin can house the Glory and Presence of God.  This skin isn't wicked or evil.  I don’t have a genetic code to do evil.  My new DNA is written with a heavenly code that loves the things of God.  My heart pulses with a transfusion of the blood of Christ.  It isn't a few more weary days and then I’ll fly away.  I’m not “just an old sinner saved by grace.”  I’m the light and life of Christ.  This earthly tabernacle is left here to house the presence of God, not be a repository for a stinking corpse.  I am a new creation in Christ Jesus, and I will walk from life to life. 

I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here on this earth.  Both sides of my family tree are blessed with long life. If my family is any indication, I still have a good twenty more years.  I don’t know what my last days will be like, but I do know that the joy of being in this skin will be nothing compared to what I will experience beyond this present vale.  

Like the little sparrows that flew in and out of the tabernacle, I will rest in God’s provision, nestle under his wing, and watch with gladness as the fowler’s snare sits empty.  

This skin I’m in is blessed.