Discipleship

In the sermon on Sunday, Lauren framed the Ascension as an act of trust.

After Jesus opened his disciples hearts and minds to the truth of his teachings, 

after all the miracles he performed, 

after all they had observed, 

he trusted them enough to leave and return home to the Father. 

He trusted them enough to know that they 

would do the work of the Kingdom that still needed to be done; 

he trusted they would carry on in his absence.

Jesus could still be here doing all the heavy lifting, 

(I mean, come on, he had just risen from the dead and come back)

but he trusted his disciples, 

he trusted US, 

to do what needs to be done.

I can't speak for anyone else in the congregation 

but I was sitting there with a Greek chorus in my head,

saying 

"Are ya kidding me? Do you know who you're dealing with?"

Hell yes, I would want him here, still doing the heavy lifting - 

feeding the hungry, healing the sick, challenging those with power and authority...

He trusted US? ... he trusted ME?

Again, "Are you kidding me?"

I have chronic and acute medical issues, 

with the list of diagnoses growing monthly; 

failing eyesight, bad knees, lousy unstable back, 

funky extra protein in my bone marrow etc etc etc.

How could he possibly think I'd finish HIS work? 

On any given day, I barely have time and energy to finish my own.

It's too hard; it seems hopeless.

I feel ill equipped to rise to the challenge.

It feels like we're taking baby steps while in the midst of an Iron Man Triathlon.

If left up to mere mortals, 

this whole bringing about the Kingdom thing could take forever.

But, according to Lauren, here's the thing ...

we aren't asked to do it all.

We aren't asked to fix problems that will stay irrevocably fixed.

It doesn't work like that.

We're asked to try.

We're asked to do our part 

of the work in front of us

I recently came across a definition of discipleship that, for me, 

sums up why we're here

and it compliments Laurens words on Sunday.

Discipleship is a long obedience in the same direction.

It hinges on enduring proximity, worshiping God, 

serving our community in joy, 

sticking around for the long haul 

and walking together toward a better way.

The fact that it's hard, 

the fact that it may take our lifetimes -and beyond - to accomplish

doesn't let us off the hook of trying.

So we paint -and scrape off paint - in a Habitat house,

 we do emergency repairs on a house with a collapsed roof,

we prepare for the next group of Missioners, arriving tomorrow.

We share what we have and who we are while we share a meal.

We live a life rooted in ordinary places, 

intentionally present and actively engaged,

even on the hard days.

Because all of it matters. 

Deeply.

This is our part of the solution.

 When the world feels sideways,

this is our horizon line.