TATTOO on the HEART

Something I’ve never heard in church before…

// July 21st, 2009 // OUT LOUD THOUGHTS

In this transition from megachurch youth pastor to missional church planter, I’ve learned tons about myself.

One thing that I’ve learned is that maybe I’m less of an extrovert than I always thought of myself.

If you saw the Paul Dabdoub of just a few years ago, you would’ve seen the center stage, funny, witty, passionate communicator, or maybe (by chance) you would’ve been there the night with 600 students packed in an ever-shrinking room and Paul rappelled out of the ceiling.  I assume you could have made up your mind about that guy.

It’s amazing who you can appear to be when you own your own turf, and it’s on your own terms.

It’s funny – the amount of vulnerability that it requires to walk into a neighborhood or a bar or a coffee shop and humbly ask for friendship or at the very least a conversation.  It’s so far away from those days of audacious direct mailers, cool cover songs, video promos, and “no-strings-attached” service.

In my final couple of years as a megachurch youth pastor, I saw so much numerical success while at the same time I had such a horrible spiritual bellyache to be outside the 4 walls connecting with people in a natural, uncontrived kind of way. We all worked so hard for the weekend, but there was something wrong when I sat at a computer in isolation from the rest of the world trying to “find ways to connect.”

Is it just me, or is it a strange thought as to how we do so much work and bang our heads against the wall and read books and go to conferences and still find ourselves frustrated with trying to figure out how people can connect.  It seems too simple to think that we could just go connect with people, see where God’s at work, and just respond to what He’s doing.

But that would just take too much time.  It’s much easier to develop a community on some sort of steroid.  And that body will look sexy, strong, and impressive.  Sure you’re going to have to deal with the damage later by unnatural things that you do – specifically with regard to heart problems – but you’ll get the results that you want for now.

I’m still furiously passionate.  I’m still pretty witty I think.  I’m still ambitious: I want to reach every single person in my community and the world. I count my days and I want them to count for God’s Kingdom.

But I’m a lot more humble.  Shortly before walking out my house, I ask God for favor with people.  My youngest (she’s 5) prayed last night. We’ve spent the last few days walking up and down our street walking house-to-house while I pulled Jadyn behind me in a radio-flyer.

I’m just reminded that Jesus came to earth with little or no fanfare.  At His height, He rode a donkey.

And, I’m learning that walk of His – person-by-person, conversation-by-conversation.  Like Him, I walk in my community easily resisted and even rejected, bringing the Kingdom.

SOMETHING  I’VE NEVER HEARD IN CHURCH BEFORE…

One startling reality that I had within the last 24 hours has been the graciousness of people.  Most doors that I’ve knocked on bear a “no solicitation” sign.  I recall that in the old days, I could’ve never gone up to those houses with my slick postcard.  Nowadays?  I knock and ring the doorbell with a clear conscience.  Because I genuinely want a relationship with my community.

{Just a reminder that Jesus only wanted relationship with people.  Relationship was the point.  If He didn’t have it with them, they still die in their sins regardless of what kind of encounter they had with Him.}

What I thought might take me an hour or so, has taken me 3 days so far.  Night falls so quickly when you spend time in conversation with people.

And in this whole experience, I received something quite peculiar – something I never received in all the years of ministry:

“Thank you.”

“That’s so thoughtful that you invited me.”

“That is so nice.”

“Welcome to the neighborhood.”

To my heart, those are the palm leaves and the “Hosannas.”

In all the years of gimmicks and thousands of invites, I doubt anyone ever felt special.  They didn’t feel treasured. No one felt like you’d pointed them out among all the people in the world to say, “You matter.  I want you to be there.”  No one ever said we were thoughtful.  No one ever thought we were nice.

God, I hope I can love this community like You do.  And I desire that when people see me walking down their street or standing at their door, that they know Your love and Your Kingdom has come with power, grace, hope, and redemption.