More-ness

A term Rob Bell used in a recent sermon caught my attention.  Moros.  Reverend Bell defined it as a kind of foolish talk- scorning somebody for their heart and character.  It caught my attention because I have observed this very thing happening a lot lately.  From a variety of sources and in equally varied settings.

On a recent mission trip: "This community development thing doesn't even seem Christian."

At a discussion forum for our church's mission program: "Who gets the credit for the work you are trying to do?  God doesn't get the credit if you do it this way."

Following a confirmation retreat: "The reason we are doing this is because we are 'right.'  We have the only right way to God and that is important."

At a men's group meeting:  "It has to be about Christ.  Not the church.  How do we know if what we are doing is for Christ and not just something that we like doing?"

I have been extremely fortunate--blessed--to be a part of a group of guys who are doing something that I don't know I have been a part of before.  We are taking the time to hear one another and to share.  To learn and to appreciate.  We are looking to join together and discover a purpose and to become a community.  

We are looking to move from Moros to More-ness.  There is something more.  There is something more to what we are doing.  There is something more to life.  There is something more to church.  There is something more to Christ.

We still have an occasional eye roll or a slow head shake.  But what I'm hearing is: "This time I didn't flip my off switch to 'off' when he started talking about _________."  "Now that I understand his story I understand what he means when he says ______________."

The Greek God Moros is defined on Wikipedia as the personification of impending doom who drives every being, mortal or otherwise, to its fated doom.  He is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent.  Maybe that's why I have been seeing so much moros-ness lately.

There is even a story in Matthew's Gospel under the section (chapters 8-10) regarded as the "mission of the church" where the Pharisee's accused Jesus of casting out devils through the prince of the devils.  (Matthew 9:34).  Even when God was himself fulfilling his own mission, he didn't get the credit for it from everyone.

WWJD? According to verse 35: he "went about".  We'll keep doing the same.  We'll keep looking for more.

Champagne in the parking lot

I came across an empty champagne bottle in the island of a parking lot this morning.  I was trying to reconstruct the celebration it represented.

1.  Assume a champagne bottle indicates some sort of celebration.

2.  It must have been impromptu or covert as it took place in a parking lot beside a Krystal Restaurant.

3.  Sometimes, covert or impromptu celebrations are the best, most heartfelt.

4.  The bottle wasn't smashed, so that indicates some level of restraint.

5.  No glasses were with it.  Did they drink straight from the bottle?

6.  It was more than one person, right?

7.  It was a parking lot, some somebody was driving.  Did they take part or did they celebrate without drinking?

8. Did they retrieve the cork and save for posterity?  Was this celebration just for it's own sake and didn't have any meaning moving forward?

9.  Why leave the bottle on the ground?  No matter what kind of celebration- good/bad, deserved/capricious, fulfilling/cheap, wholesome/shady, in community/alone, or otherwise: leaving the bottle behind cheapens it.

How do we celebrate and how do we do it in a way that lets others know it's whole and authentic?  Don't leave empty bottles behind.

Giving and Offering

I remember hearing that male role models are fairly rare in the church in Peru.  On our recent trip there, I wanted to see if I could involve some of the men in participating in a Bible school we help put on in Chimbote.  I found a gentleman kind of hanging out at the back of the make shift room where we were holding the Bible school.  Through nonverbal communication, I got him to help hand out coloring pages and markers.  He really had a good time and was quite proud to help contribute.  Towards the end of the session the head honcho asked me to hand out cookies as the children departed.  "Give them two cookies--no more--because we might not have enough."  I found my new found friend to help hand them out.  I was first told not to give him any cookies because they were just for the children.  I finally explained that I wasn't giving them to him, but that he was helping hand them out.  

What was interesting was: I was handing out the cookies.  I was in control.  I made sure nobody got too many or more than their share.  My Peruvian partner, though, took a different tack.  Rather than hand out the cookies, he offered the cookies.  Nobody seemed to take more than two and he sure seemed to have more joy in his offering than I had in my handing out.

I wonder about all the joy all around in the poverty stricken areas of Peru where we worked.  I got a clue into maybe why as I was handing out the cookies.  

There is more joy in offering than in handing out.