Zucchini Hidden in the Hamburger

My secret is out... everyone at Life on the Vine now knows.  When I cook hamburger for my family, I blend up onions, garlic, and zucchini and I hide it in the ground beef.  My kids think they're just eating ordinary hamburger... but they're actually eating life-giving veggies.

We started a sermon series at Life on the Vine about seven practices of Christ's presence (find it here).  And in the same way that I hide veggies in beef, as we engage in these practices, our ordinary human activity is actually loaded with divine presence - the life-giving nourishment of Christ Himself.

Our extended families think they are inviting ordinary hamburger over... but we know we're bringing onions and garlic along with us.  Our coworkers think they're eating lunch with ground beef, but we know we're packing zucchini.

And so there is this mysterious and mind-blowing partnership between the presence of Christ and our human activity.  Without His presence, our activity is merely an obligatory checklist.  Without our activity, His presence remains hidden and intangible to a world that is waiting to see Christ incarnate in His people.

It's about relationship.  Christ in us... us in Christ.  His presence is a frame through which to view our practice... and our practice is a frame through which the world can see His presence.

Where I've been...

I know... it's been a long while since I've blogged.  I guess I decided to take the summer off... I just didn't realize it until the summer had gone by without any motivation to post anything.

This summer, there was a lot of fumbling in the curtain... finding it difficult to perceive the presence of Christ in any sort of tangible way.  In the Immanuel prayer process, I've been "stuck" all summer in a childhood place... locked out of a dark room and Jesus is keeping the key from me.  Perhaps I'm not ready for what's behind that door.  In any case, the forward motion and the deep healing I had been experiencing have stalled out.  And I became suddenly aware of how much I had grown to depend on that "experience" of His presence in the past two years.  So much so, that when I lost that way of connecting, I felt as if Christ was no longer with me.

Although I believe Christ means for us to know His presence in tangible ways, I also recognize that part of what happened was that I had turned signs of His presence into a subtle form of idolatry.  I recently re-read part of "Dark Night of the Soul" by St. John of the Cross (excerpt found in Devotional Classics).  It became clear to me that, once again, I had 'misused spiritual consolation' and it seemed that God had taken away my consolation in order to purify my soul.

"God perceives the imperfections within us, and because of his love for us, urges us to grow up.  His love is not content to leave us in our weakness, and for this reason he takes us into a dark night.  He weans us from all of the pleasures by giving us dry times and inward darkness.  In doing so he is able to take away all these vices and create virtues within us.  Through the dark night pride becomes humility, greed become simplicity, wrath becomes contentment, luxury becomes peace, gluttony becomes moderation, envy becomes joy, and sloth becomes strength.  No soul will ever grow deep in the spiritual life unless God works passively in that soul by means of the dark night."

In the midst of this 'dark night,' I was given the task of proclaiming the presence of Christ with us, as He promised in Matt. 28:20.  And here, I found an obvious sign of Christ's presence with me... In His wisdom and tenderness, He forced me to wrestle with what He meant by "I will be with you always" even while I was in the midst of wondering where He had gone right now.

His presence still isn't tangible like it was before this summer... but perceptions will never measure the reality of His presence... instead, the reality of His presence shapes perception.  (I think I must have read that somewhere... but I can't remember where).

Yogurtland Church?

One of my new favorite places on the planet is the local Yogurtland.  If you haven't yet visited a Yogurtland, you are missing out on a dessert that borders on health food... and for those of us who don't have my husband's metabolism, this is a good good thing.

As Geoff and I were just there last night, we mused briefly about Yogurtland as a bad metaphor for church.  The missional church has come a long way from the consumer model... but I wonder if there aren't still some similarities between the way that we participate in our missional communities and the way we engage a Yogurtland.  

Here's what I mean...
At Yogurtland, you serve yourself.  You clean your own hands.  You grab your own bowl.  No attendant is forcing you to make up your mind by asking, "are you ready to order?"  Take as long as you need to be ready.  No coersion.  Your indecision inconveniences no one.  If you're not ready to partake and engage, others simply go around you.

On any given day, there are a dozen flavors to choose from.  If you're not sure if you'll like a flavor, you can pick up a little paper cup and sample something to see if it dances on your tastebuds like you thought it might.  You can choose from flavors like cheesecake, huddles / discipleship groups, blue lychee bliss, missional order / house gathering, chocolate twilight, eucharist / worship, apricot tart, or post worship barbeque.

Once you've decided on your flavors, you choose your own portions.  You take as much or as little as you think you might be capable of digesting.  You can choose multiple flavors, or stick with just one thing.  Some days, that might be a bit of everything, filling the bowl to overflowing... other days, your appetite might be small and you can only take in a couple ounces.

After you've chosen your yogurt, you walk by the toppings.  There, you'll find extras like blackberries, scripture memorization challenges, weird fruit flavored gelatinous balls, and short-term missions trips.  Again, take only what looks appealing and mix and match as much as you like.

Finally, you're ready to weigh your creation.  You pay only for what you take.  During this whole process, you've been carefully selecting only what you've been willing to pay for, realizing that every delicious bite has a price.

When you come to the register, you're finally aware of the presence of a few bi-vocational pastors scurrying about the store... usually 3 or 4.  One has been monitoring the toppings, making sure that everything is fresh and inviting.  Another has been out wiping tables, disposing of trash left behind, and interacting with the customers if necessary.  You know there is at least one person in the back, attending to the yogurt machines, but you're not really sure who it is because they remain hidden during your visit.  Lastly, someone tells you how much you owe and receives your contribution to keep the store running in exchange for what you've received.

After you've enjoyed the taste explosion, delivered by a quality pink or green spoon, and been dazzled by the clever touch of strawberries bobbing in the chilled water dispenser, you're ready to go and tell all of your friends about the magic of Yogurtland... where you rule.

My hope is that more of us might view the gathering of God's people as a stone soup event.  Everyone brings something, either out of their bounty or out of their lack.  There's not a defined recipe... but everyone contributes something of value.  A wilted carrot, a handful of herbs, a pound of parsnips, some kale or chard... none of it is incredibly appealing all by itself.  But when everyone is willing to participate in the mystery, the ingredients combine to produce a uniquely flavorful stew that blesses and nourishes all those who partake.  A reflection of an entire community, centered around a stone.

What do you think?  Do people view your missional community as a Yogurtland?  Or as Stone Soup?  Or as something else entirely?  Are we still believing the individuals rule?  Or are we submitting to the mystery of the stone that unites the pieces?