I was talking to someone the other day about what we’re up to, and I was sharing how Tina’s pregnant, we’re starting a church, we have no income (yet), we have no physical meeting space for the church, and no budget as a church.
The person said to me, “Sometimes I wish I could do what you’re doing.”
I thought, “Are you serious?! We’re having a baby and I have no stable income!”
But then she said, “It’s like you’ve sold all your possessions to follow Jesus.”
Honestly, we haven’t sold everything. In fact, we didn’t sell much. I simply left a pretty stable job, and we still own a lot of stuff.
We have an apartment, food to eat, clothes to wear, a car, and our Macs. You know, all the “essential” first world stuff. We also have loads of kids stuff from generous people that has given new meaning to “making room for a baby” during Christmas.
We have dear family and friends who will buy us meals at times, and will also let us crash at their homes if we ever dry up our savings.
But in some ways, I get why the young woman said “it’s like you’ve sold your possessions.”
I think this is how I understand what she said: “it’s like you’ve taken a leap into liminal space – the unknown, insecure, unpredictable feeling of losing the sense of control and security. And you’ve done this because Jesus told you to.”
Jesus told me to.
Wow, I’ve really become one of those Christians.
I once heard from someone that it’s good to have the experience of literally selling all your possessions every 10-15 years, simply as a spiritual lesson.
Can you imagine if we actually, literally, did that?
Ah yes, in some cases it would be unwise and would do more harm than good.
But in some cases it’d be awfully wise.
I think one reason it’s so hard for me to fathom selling everything from time to time is because my attachments really are that deep.
One of the reasons I love reading the book of Acts is because it’s so full of radical faith. Disciples of Jesus are straight gangsta when it comes to the gospel and living it out.
Somehow, modern faith gets so sanitized to the point that Christianity means finding the way toward more security, more control, more comfort.
And maybe that’s why the invitation toward being a disciple includes some measure of selling or leaving or or dying to follow Him, as if experiencing the sensation of loss and dependence is essential to the Jesus Way.
I’ve shared before how the feelings of loss or falling come in almost every stage of life, so we constantly have opportunities to trust God more deeply in the normalness of life.
But what if we actively chose to leap into the unknown from time to time too, a way of “selling our possessions” as a discipline of trusting more deeply?
I realize why church planting has been so invigorating for me. The hard work of planting is all the unseen praying and trusting that God will provide and that God will show up.
Sure, there’s some calculated risk in what we’re doing (thank God for coaching and denominational support), but there’s the real chance that what we’re trying to do might not work.
And that’s why my spiritual life has been so invigorated. I’m forced into a deeper level of trust than I’ve had in some time.
Starting a church and starting a family can do that to people.
And at the end of the day, I have no idea what’s going to happen over the next few months. But for some odd reason, I have a strong intuition that God’s gonna be in it nonetheless.
He always is.