After an overnight twelve and a half hour flight Sara and landed in Auckland with great anticipation. Where God has asked us each to serve these days doesn’t allow us a lot of time to travel together, so it is always special when she gets to come too—not only for me but also for the folks that get to meet her too.

We arrived on Thursday and met up with David and Nina Rice from Ireland who are accompanying us on this trip. We did a bit of sightseeing around Auckland before retiring early to dispel our jet lag. On Friday we awoke to begin to get to know some of the folks Jesus brought us here to meet.

I never cease to be amazed at this incredible Body that Jesus has been building the world over. It is as true with folks who live down the street from us, as it is those half way around the world. When you get near people who know who are learning to live in Jesus, fellowship is instant as love blossoms even between those who have never met before. Suddenly there is not enough time to share what God has done and what he has shown us all in the journey.

Yesterday we sat by the sea with a couple who have journeyed over 80 years in this life. They served as medial missionaries in the former Congo leading up to the revolution of the early 60’s. They have lived in New Zealand for most of their lives since and have been on a marvelous journey to know Jesus outside the religious systems that mark our day.

When I asked Jack what he knew about Father that I didn’t know, he answered something like this: “I know how deeply he can still love an eighty year-old man who hasn’t got it all figured out yet.” I love that! None of us are ever going to get it all figured out here. He just invites us to know him with the same reality that he knows us. “I feel like I’m just beginning this journey,” he said.

Well, thank God! That’s the way I feel every day and it’s encouraging to know that I can maintain that freshness for a lifetime. We’re not going to figure it out in this lifetime, and he is not waiting for us to, He just wants us to keep drawing near to him and letting him shape and change us bit by bit.

As we sat on the shore with the water of Manukau Harbor outside of Auckland lapping at our feet, I was amazed that Father had brought together couples from three different continents to compare notes about him and the way he has led us. I was so encouraged by that all-to-brief time together. God is inviting people to himself the world over and teaching us how to live in him and share that life with each other and the world. The fellowship we shared together affirmed that God had tuned our hearts to himself and the unity we could share together was his gift to us.

Certainly his symphony plays on….

I got the following as a response to one of my blogs and thought I’d let you look over my shoulder as I answered her:

My response:

It also reminds me of a question I was asked in Atlanta a couple of years ago. “Do you really think you’re good enough to hear God every day? What a question? The obvious and only answer is a resounding, “No!”; None of us ,p.are good enough for that.

But perhaps the question is, “Is God big enough to get through to me every day?” That gets a resounding yes. If I’ll listen and watch for him, he is fully able to get past whatever doubt, struggle, ignorance, or presupposition to help me understand him and the way he is dealing with me.

Here’s a bit more from Dangerous Wonder by Mike Yaconnelli (page 32):

Isn’t it amazing how many things in this life can lull us into spiritual slumber when God wants to run wild and free with us through whatever life hurls at us? Don’t fall for any of them. Take a run with him through the meadow today and find out what it really means to be alive!

I wept yesterday. I shed more tears than any day in recent memory. And, quite frankly, I was surprised by it.

Since I was in Kansas last week, I had little opportunity to follow the services and ceremonies for President Ronald Reagan. Sara taped them for me and I spent almost all day yesterday watching the celebration of his life and legacy and the mourning of his passing. I was surprised at the emotional reaction I had to all of it. I had wanted to watch it because of the historical uniqueness of a President’s passing, and the fact that his Presidential library is only a few miles from where I live.

Though I voted for President Reagan in both elections, and supported much of his agenda, I have not thought of him as one of our greatest presidents. As time marches on, however, he may prove to be the greatest in my lifetime, which alone says volumes about the times in which we live. No, my tears did not flow today because of a personal sense of loss at his passing. I wept for other reasons.

I am sure I wept a bit because my emotions were manipulated the pageantry, images, and music of these ceremonies. They are designed to do that, you know. Many of the songs of faith pulled at my heartstrings and          the simple power of military protocol and patriotism makes a powerful mix. But I also know it was far more than that.

I wept in memory of a President I respected and whose ideals of freedom and courage of his convictions inspired me personally and set a new tone in American history. I always admired his amazing gift of communication, his graciousness toward opponents and his quick-witted humor.

I wept in grief for his widow, Nancy. Their deep and abiding love had been first robbed by disease then severed by death. Her pain reminded me of so many other friends and family past and present waging war against horribly debilitating diseases in others they love deeply. It also made me appreciate Sara so much more and the gift that she is to me.

I wept for the mortality of the human soul and the suffering of a world in conflict, disease and death that has too-long embraced an order that is grossly out of synch with the passions of the One who created us all.

I wept in gratitude for significant people in my own life who have preceded me to the presence of the Father I love so much.

And perhaps most of all I wept in sorrow for the demeaned image of God presented before the world in the trappings of a lofty cathedral and in the presumption of dress and ceremony by the religious professionals who took part in the service. These things were designed to make the rich and powerful comfortable in religious moments, rather than bear the glory of God to the weak and wounded of the world. I thought those things made Christianity look weak, powerless and empty—a God whose veneer we invoke in our sorrow, not a Father whose love we can embrace every day.

And I wept in wonder at God’s graciousness to visit people in such places and behind such trappings. In spite of the over-done pageantry of religion his voice could be clearly heard in the simple words of those who expressed their own faith and that of President Reagan’s especially following his assassination attempt.

And I have awakened to this day with a deeper love and a firmer resolve to live deeply in Jesus, following him wherever he asks me to go, as long as he gives me breath in this body.

I’m just finishing up a week of teaching for an HIV/AIDs Intervention School in Newton, KS for a group of students that have a passion to care for those infected with this virus. At the end of four weeks of training they will be off to South Africa to work with AIDs outreaches there. We have had a ball this week, for this is an interesting group of students, and pretty free spirits. I get to be with them for seventeen hours of teaching, and all week long living among them to help walk them out of religious approaches to God and sort out what it means to live related to him as our Father.

Weeks like this are always refreshing to me spiritually as well. How easy it is living in this age to find ourselves trapped in a religious veneer of Christianity and miss the heart of it. Religious thinking keeps us trapped in guilt and shame, harassed by obligations we can never fulfill, bored with empty rituals and in constant pursuit of some new truth that will finally make it alive.

All are fruitless endeavors that will leave us empty.

Jesus didn’t load up his followers with any of these things. In fact, he dismantled them at every turn. He simply demonstrated to them what a life lived in Father’s love looks like. It affected everything about the way he thought and acted and it was so engaging that the disciples were constantly amazed at how God worked through him.

Given the age we live in, we all need constant reminders that Christianity is not a creed to confess, ethics to obey or rituals to fulfill. Reducing our life in him to mere religion will ultimately bore us and we will simply reduce it to attending services or observing disciplines and miss the greatest joy of being his—walking with him every day through the circumstances we encounter and seeing him work in the people that cross our paths.

Christianity at its heart is a daily relationship with the Living God where we grow to know him as he really is and center our lives on his purpose and character working its way into our lives.

We will never learn to live in that reality by sitting through teaching, reading books or talking with others. While those can be helpful, if we are in fact learning to live in him, as substitutes for the lack of it they will always be woefully inadequate.

We have to remind ourselves and each other that Christianity is a life lived in Father’s reality. It is not at its root a theological system, though it does have a coherent theology. It is not primarily an ethical system, though it will teach us to live in God’s righteousness. It is not observing rituals or ethical mandates. We live the life of Christ as we learn to abide in him, like a branch in a vine. He yearns to teach you how to do that. All you have to do is ask him, lean into him every day and watch his glory sort out in the real experiences of your life.

That’s what I’m being reminded freshly this week. I thought you might like a reminder too.

[This story has come up in two conversations lately so I figured it might be a blessing for those of you who have never seen it. Of course I wish he’d used a different term than clergyman, but what are you going to do?]

There are two views of life and two kinds of people. Some see life as a possession to be carefully guarded. They are SETTLERS. Others see life as a fantastic, wild, explosive gift. They are PIONEERS. The visible church is an outfit with an abundance of settlers and a few pioneers. The invisible church is the fellowship of pioneers. To no one’s surprise there are two kinds of theology. Settler theology and pioneer theology. Settler theology is an attempt to answer all the questions, define and housebreak some sort of “Supreme Being,” establish the status quo on Golden Tablets in cinemascope. Pioneer Theology is an attempt to talk about what it means to receive the strange gift of life and live! The pioneer sees theology as a wild adventure, complete with Indians, saloon girls, and the haunting call of what is yet to be.

The Wild West offers a stage for picturing these two types of theology. Settlers and Pioneers use the same words but that is where it stops. To see what I mean–read on.

THE CHURCH

IN SETTLER THEOLOGY–the church is the courthouse. It is the center of town life. The old stone structure dominates the town square. Its windows are small. This makes the thing easy to defend, but quite dark inside. Its doors are solid oak. No one lives there except pigeons and they, of course, are most unwelcome.

Within the thick, courthouse walls, records are kept, taxes collected, trials held for bad guys. The courthouse runs the town. It is the settler’s symbol of law, order, stability, and most important–security, The mayor’s office is on the top floor. His eagle eye scopes out the smallest details of town life.

IN PIONEER THEOLOGY–the church is the covered wagon. It is a house on wheels–always on the move. No place is its home. The covered wagon is where the pioneers eat, sleep, fight, love, and die. It bears the marks of life and movement–it creaks, is scarred with arrows, bandaged with bailing wire. The covered wagon is always where the action is. It moves in on the future and doesn’t bother to glorify its own ruts. The old wagon isn’t comfortable, but the pioneers could care less. There is a new world to explore.

GOD

IN SETTLER THEOLOGY–God is the mayor. The honorable Alpha O. Mega, chief executive of Settler City. He is a sight to behold–dressed like a dude from back East, lounging in an over-stuffed chair in his courthouse office. He keeps the blinds drawn. No one sees or knows him directly, but since there is order in the town who can deny he is there? The mayor is predictable and always on schedule.

The settlers fear the mayor but look to him to clear the payroll and keep things going. The mayor controls the courthouse which in turn runs the town. To maintain peace and quiet the mayor sends the sheriff to check on pioneers who ride into town.

IN PIONEER THEOLOGY–God is the trail boss. He is rough and rugged-full of life. The trail boss lives, eats, sleeps, fights with his men. Their well being is his concern. Without him the wagon wouldn’t move–the pioneers would become fat and lazy. Living as a free man would be impossible. The trail boss often gets down in the mud with the pioneers to help push the wagon which frequently gets stuck. He slugs the pioneers when they get soft and want to turn back. His fist is an expression of his concern.

JESUS

IN SETTLER THEOLOGY–Jesus is the sheriff. He is the guy who is sent by the mayor to enforce the rules. He wears a white hat–drinks milk–outdraws the bad guys. He saves the settlers by offering security. The sheriff decides who is thrown in jail. There is a saying in town that goes like this–those who believe the mayor sent the sheriff and follow the rules won’t stay in Boot Hill when it comes their time.

IN PIONEER THEOLOGY–Jesus is the scout. He rides out ahead to find out which way the pioneers should go. He lives all the dangers of the trail. The scout suffers every hardship, is attacked by the Indians, feared by the settlers. Through his actions and words he shows the true spirit, intent, and concern of the trail boss. By looking at the scout, those on the trail learn what it really means to be a pioneer.

THE HOLY SPIRIT

IN SETTLER THEOLOGY–the Holy Spirit is a saloon girl. Her job is to comfort the settlers. They come to her when they feel lonely or when life gets dull or dangerous. She tickles them under the chin and makes everything O.K. again. The saloon girl squeals to the sheriff when someone starts disturbing the peace. (Note to settlers: the whiskey served in Settler City Saloon is the non-spiritous kind.)

IN PIONEER THEOLOGY–the Holy Spirit is the buffalo hunter. He rides along with the wagon train and furnishes fresh, raw meat for the pioneers. The buffalo hunter is a strange character–sort of a wild man. The pioneers never can tell what he will do next. He scares the hell out of the settlers. Every Sunday morning, when the settlers have their little ice cream party in the courthouse, the buffalo hunter sneaks up to one of the courthouse windows with his big black gun and fires a tremendous blast. Men jump, women scream, dogs bark. Chuckling to himself, the buffalo hunter rides back to the wagon train.

THE CHRISTIAN

IN SETTLER THEOLOGY–the Christian is the settler. He fears the open, unknown frontier. He stays in good with the mayor and keeps out of the sheriff’s way. He tends a small garden. “Safety First” is his motto. To him the courthouse is a symbol of security, peace, order, and happiness. He keeps his money in the bank. The banker is his best friend. He plays checkers in the restful shade of the oak trees lining the courthouse lawn. He never misses an ice cream party.

IN PIONEER THEOLOGY–the Christian is the pioneer. He is a man of risk and daring–hungry for adventure, new life, the challenge of being on the trail. He is tough, rides hard, knows how to use a gun when necessary. The pioneer feels sorry for the town folks and tries to tell them about the joy and fulfillment of a life following the trail. He dies with his boots on.

THE CLERGYMAN

IN SETTLER THEOLOGY–the clergyman is the bank teller. Within his vaults are locked the values of the town. He is suspicious of strangers. And why not? Look what he has to protect! The bank teller is a highly respected man in town. He has a gun but keeps it hidden behind his desk. He feels he and the sheriff have a lot in common. After all, they both protect the bank.

IN PIONEER THEOLOGY–the clergyman is the cook. He doesn’t furnish the meat–he just dishes up what the buffalo hunter provides. This is how he supports the movement of the wagon. He never confuses his job with that of the trail boss, scout or buffalo hunter. He sees himself as just another pioneer who has learned to cook. The cook’s job is to help the pioneers pioneer.

THE BISHOP

IN SETTLER THEOLOGY–the bishop is the bank president. He rules the bank with an iron hand. He makes all the decisions, tells the tellers what to do, and upholds the image of the bank. The settlers must constantly be reassured of the safety of their values. The bank president watches the books like a hawk. Each day he examines all deposits and withdrawals. The bank president is responsible for receiving all new accounts. This is called “the laying on of hands.”

IN PIONEER THEOLOGY–the bishop is the dishwasher. He does the chores so the cook can do his job. He supports the cook in every way possible. Together the cook and dishwasher plan the meals and cook the food provided by the buffalo hunter. They work as an

Sara and I are rereading Dangerous Wonder by Mike Yaconelli each morning as our focus before she leaves for work. This morning we read one of my favorite passages in this one of my favorite books:

I love his sentiments even though I’d differ with his use of the term ‘church’. The church that Jesus knows prefers the danger of walking with the Living God to the routines of safe institutions any time. This church thrives in the wonder of the Living God, present among his people to accomplish his purpose even if that means he defies all of our preferences and expectations. May God have his way even if that thwarts our best-laid plans or ruffles up our comfort zone.

My dad, son and I have spent four days touring Washington DC and having a meaningful and hilarious time together. I’m traveling with some folks that have wonderful sense of humor. We have been all over downtown DC and to the monuments, museums and memorials. Today we visited the new Air and Space Annex near Dulles and toured Mount Vernon. We were at the World War II Memorial on Tuesday and I found it moving indeed. We even met Senator Bob Dole there after a brief press conference he did. My dad got to shake his hand and that was special for him.

Some critics have panned the memorial as not being as moving as more recent memorials such as the Vietnam War Memorial. But the memorial does not have meaning because of its architecture but because of the sacrifice it memorializes. In other words it is not the memorial that qualifies the sacrifice, but the sacrifice that qualifies the memorial. It’s the same with our life in God. Like refrigerator art from our young children, it is not the quality of art that determines the worth of the artist, but our love for the artist that qualifies their work of art.

Tomorrow we go back downtown for the dedication of the Memorial. There has been a lot of talk about a possible terrorist incident associated with this weekend. It is interesting that it has not dampened the spirit or interest of the proceedings here as far as the veterans are concerned. We seem them everywhere and there is an instant camaraderie among as they pass each other on the street. These are men and women who already stared death in the face in their youth and they are not about to let the threat of terrorist activity rob them of the freedom they already sacrificed to gain.

I obviously don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I also think the media gives us a distorted since of proportion about these dangers because it sensationalizes their news story. I am greatly looking forward to spending this day with my dad and son, as a grateful nation acknowledges the sacrifice these men and women made to conquer an unspeakable evil that sought to overrun the world.

What they faced, endured and overcome has been an incredible heritage for the rest of us. Only a fourth of those who fought in the war are still alive today and 1000 of them are dying every day. A tribute for their sacrifice is long overdue. I’m blessed indeed that God allowed us to experience this week together.

These verses are a feast aren’t they?

“His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.” 2 Peter 1:3-4

When we’re feeling a bit lost and confused, how often do we run to another brother or sister, browse the Internet or try to find a book that will give us the answer we seek. Here Peter points believers another direction. You have already been given everything you will ever need to live fully in him and participate in his nature.

It’s in Him and he is in you. As we grow to know him, we’ll also sort out the things that concern us most. Maybe why the answer is so hard to find is because we’re looking in all the wrong places. I think we’d all be less confused and more at peace if we sought him who holds all the answers.

Yes, he’ll often use others to affirm what he is doing in us. He loves connecting his family together. But that connection only flows from the Father of the family himself. Always go first to him. Steal away to your quiet place and drench yourself in his presence. Listen to him first for everything you need resides in him. Let his promises wash over you, because in them you’ll find his glory and goodness that will shape you exactly the way God made you to be.

I’m convinced that if we go there first we won’t be so confused by the multiplicity of voices we hear pointing us different direction. His knowing in us will be clear—”go that way!”

On Monday I leave for a very special trip. My father, son and I are flying to Washington DC to tour the city and to attend the dedication of the World War II Memorial, , on the National Mall next Saturday. I have been looking forward to this for a long time, not only to have some special time with my dad and son, and to celebrate my father’s life and his sacrifice in that great conflict.

Fresh out of high school my father enlisted in the infantry to help liberate Europe from the death grip of a madman. He was wounded in a vineyard in northeast just before New Year’s Day, 1945. That experience changed my dad’s life and I have feasted on the fruits of it my entire life. A few years ago he told a story to my wife and daughter that explains so much of his life.

In the middle of that conflict, enduring the bitter elements and trauma of war my dad had a conversation with God. “If you get me out of this conflict alive, I will never complain about anything as long as I live.” It wasn’t so much a vow to barter his way out of trouble, as it was a statement of fact. Dad knew that he would never experience any worse circumstances in his life than he faced there.

Over the years I watched my dad (at right) lose two raisin harvests, his only source of income, to unseasonable rainstorms. I heard others mock and vilify him for leaving congregations that had spiraled into more self than Spirit. I’ve prayed alongside him for people captured in the deepest bondages and watched him care for my oldest brother as he battled Multiple Sclerosis, and even endured his passing. He has been married for more than 50 years and I have never once heard my dad complain about anything, which is remarkable since I grew up complaining about everything.

In times of crisis and challenge I have seen him lean into Jesus with a gentleness and confidence that has held him through his entire life. He has been my father not only of the flesh, but also of the spirit as his example has inspired me to seek the reality and freedom of life in Jesus and never to settle for anything less.

Over the course of the next week I’ll be celebrating him and the best of what America has offered the world. I’ll tour our national museums and historic sites. I’ll attend patriotic ceremonies where I know I’ll be touched by the incredible ideals that have marked the American experiment. While I don’t see American as a ‘Christian Nation’, I do think on balance she has been a force for good in the world and here best ideals of liberty and justice for all are derived from God’s heart. Though our performance on these issues has always been flawed, there have always been men and women calling us to our best. And I will continue to pray for our leaders and be grateful for the men and women who have sacrificed their lives around the world in the name of freedom.

That may come as a surprise to those of you who took offense to my column on the perceived arrogance of the current administration’s rhetoric and foreign policy. Some of you seemed only to prove my point the harder you tried to rebut it. Our expressions of superiority undermine our moral credibility. To talk about how we’re being perceived in the world by our friends is not a judgment against President Bush’s Christianity, but to pray it transforms him even more. It is perhaps asking too much, but I want anyone who claims Christ’s name to also bear his character to the world and think that will go a long ways to accomplish the things President Bush says he wants.

So this week will be filled with joy and celebration as three generations of Jacobsen’s tour DC and join 100s of thousands of people on the Mall next Saturday. I see no problem giving thanks to Jesus for the incredible things he has done in our nation, at the same time I pray for her weaknesses. I do no less for my own life…