JR. Forasteros - February 3, 2013
Growing Up in a Garden
When we start to live in real community, we often find frustration because we compare ourselves to those around us. We try to take their process of spiritual formation and apply it to our lives. But spirituality isn't one-size-fits-all. There's no formula for healthy spirituality. Rather, we are more like gardens. Each of us is a little bit different, and we should approach our spiritual growth with the freedom to experiment, to figure out what path God designed to lead to our flourishing.
From Series: "First Things First"
We ended 2012 in the Revelation, exploring how Jesus' coming into our lives is the End of the World as we know it. But if Jesus' coming is the End, it's also a new beginning. Jesus' death and resurrection reconnect us with God, open up a world that has been lost to us since Sin entered into the world. So to kick off 2013, we're going to dive into Genesis 1-2. We'll explore God's original intentions for the world, and the implications for our new life in Jesus. After all, in the new year, it's good to get the First Things First!
Discussion Guide Sermon Manuscript Guide to Spiritual Practices
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In the years after Hurricane Katrina devastated the city of New Orleans, I went to the city to do relief work several times. It was during those trips I learned that what victims of disasters want most isn’t necessarily the relief work. Every trip went more-or-less the same:
A big group of us would show up and get to work. Maybe we were gutting a home so it could be cleansed of mold and rebuilt. Maybe we were cleaning up vacant lots to beautify a city block for the other residents. Mostly we were gutting homes – tearing out sheetrock and ripping up flooring. It was brutal, exhausting work, particularly in the New Orleans summers.
The residents would always be nearby, helping if they could or in their FEMA trailers making lemonade for us workers.
And inevitably, over the three or four days we were there, each of us would end up just sitting and talking with that resident. Despite the fact that we were on a schedule. Even though we were working hard to get their home finished.
What they needed most wasn’t a new home (though, obviously, that was important).
What they needed most wasn’t our strong backs and hard work. What they needed most, every time, was human interaction. They needed to tell their story, to be seen and heard, to know they’re not alone in their grief.
Again and again, what gave them hope was not the pounding hammers and loaded wheelbarrows, but a person sitting with them, being present with them.
What does it means to be WITH someone in times of grief? The final movement of Lament is hope, an anticipation that grief is not the final word.
