As I sit down to think back on our time in Canada, there are almost too many options for what to write about. There was the breathtaking beauty of the mountains, the humility of seeing a trip come together in a month, and even the fun of showering in the public leisure center. There was the joy of partnering and participating in the Church service on Sunday, and even the warnings of seeing a culture that is a few years further down the road towards secularism.
But when I think about my biggest takeaway, what comes to mind is the unflattering reality of a trip like this. To say it briefly and bluntly: We are not the saviors of the world. Let me explain. Certainly, we are here to participate in the movement of God on earth, we are here to have an impact on the darkness around us, but we are not the saviors of the world, we just know Him. We have a vocational responsibility as God’s people to be His ambassadors (Paul’s words, not mine. See 2 Corinthians 5), which means we are reclaiming our understanding of being made in His image and reflecting His glory to the world. We are not here to fix everything, but (to quote Gandalf), “To decide what to do with the time that is given us”, and to “Use such strength and heart and wits as you have.”
This trip was unlike any I have experienced. Oh yes, there was grueling work that threatened to get the best of us, there were relationships built with the locals (we almost brought one back), there was even the serving of the least of these, but none of these elements defined this trip. If I had to pull my thoughts out of the air about what I perceived to be the defining aspect of this trip it would simply be the team acting as the people of God. In our American mindset, we want to come back from a trip like this feeling like we accomplished something huge that we can hang our names on or to have pictures with hungry street kids that are just thankful for a smile. Well, we don't have those. What we have is more realistic and harder to define.
We went. We came back.
We were on mission. We are still on mission.
God was there. God is here.
Life goes on as ever it has, and if something is changed, it might be us. If anything made our 10 days in Calgary, Alberta, Canada exceptional, it was simply the fact that 32 people lived together as the people of God. And the lingering thought that nagged my mind as I sat on the plane home and as I sit here at my desk is this: What would happen if we lived like this all the time?
I don’t mean anything extreme like let’s live at a camp and do service projects all the time or travel around like vagabonds living in churches and showering at public pools (although, it was quite an experience). Rather, what if we were always the honest and vulnerable community of people who are being changed by God, rather than pretending to be better off than we are and acting as if God should be lucky to have us?
Before the trip I read an article written by Henri Nouwen called From Solitude to Community to Ministry (find it here), and the basic premise was that before we can do ministry we must be in community with God’s people, and before we can be in community with God’s people we must learn to be in solitude in the presence of our Father. Unfortunately, we tend to constantly get this out of order. One of the most remarkable things about this trip was seeing the immediate benefits of a team that lived in intentional God-community. We began each day individually in the Word followed by communal discussion of what God had taught us. We ended each day with a debrief, communicating the things God showed us throughout our time together serving Him. In the middle was bickering, laughter, tears, frustration, joy, sweat, and accomplishment. But as we rounded off each day, we knew our last task was to put aside any ill-will and come back together as a team to forgive each other and celebrate what God had done in us and through us.
Was it easy? Absolutely not. That’s why I’ve napped so much since I got home. But it was so incredibly worth it. There are few things more satisfying than seeing a group of high school girls taking another aside and challenging her to open up and be vulnerable for the first time in her life (without any adult telling them to do so). Or seeing a young man take a lonely Calgarian under his wing and make him feel so comfortable in a group of American strangers that we literally could not get rid of him (in the best kind of way). Or seeing someone having the courage to lead his team in musical worship by strumming at a guitar for the first time in front of people and, instead of being mocked, seeing his peers sing all the louder to cover any blunders that may have occurred.
The community of Christ is not a constant high of emotions. In fact, it’s tough and frustrating and way too honest. But it’s real. The reality of human frailty will not find strength in a good production or programmatic success, but in honest vulnerability and love. In a way that only makes sense in Christ, the weaker we are, the stronger we are.
If I have learned anything from my time with this wonderful team in this beautiful setting, it’s that there is freedom in being uncomfortably close to a group of people. That the church was made to forgive and celebrate, but we cannot do that if we are hiding from each other (and God). That I am as God has made me, and pretending to have it all together helps no one. That living the Life He made me to live is of more value than being successful or influential.
I pray you are able to hear our stories and share our joy. If I can end with a metaphor it would be this: The Christian Life does not happen in the mountains, but in the farm lands. We loved our time in the mountains, but we did not stay there. We live in the flatlands, the farmlands, the unnoticed, unremarkable, subtly beautiful plains that make the mountains so beautiful.
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