The Vision

God is so, so faithful. The things He's been doing already in my life, in the people around me, on my floor, in my hall, and even in my youth group at home, are truly amazing. God, You are so, so, good. I can hardly breathe, I'm so smothered in love and so overwhelmed by Your genius and awesomeness.

Mark my words: The Vision is coming. It's coming to my room, my floor, my hall, and my campus. It's coming to my youth group at home. It's coming.

THE VISION
By Pete Greig

So this guy comes up to me and says, “What’s the vision? What’s the big idea?” I open my mouth and words come out like this…

The vision? The vision is JESUS – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.
The vision is an army of young people. You see bones? I see an army. And they are free from materialism.
They laugh at 9-5 little prisons.
They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday. They wouldn’t even notice.
They know the meaning of the Matrix, they way the West was won.
They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations. They need no passport. People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence.
They are free, yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying.

What is the vision? The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes. It makes children laugh and adults angry. It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars. It scorns the good and strains for the best. It is dangerously pure.
Light flickers from very secret motive, every private conversation.
It loves people away from their suicide leaps. Their Satan games.
This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause.
A million times a day its soldiers choose to loose that they might one day win the great “Well done” of faithful sons and daughters.
Such heroes are as radical on Monday mornings as Sunday night. They don’t need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again: “COME ON!”

And this is the sounds of the underground
The whisper of history in the making
Foundations shaking
Revolutionaries dreaming once again
Mystery is scheming in whispers
Conspiracy is breathing...

This is the sounds of the underground
And the army is disciple(in)ed.
Young people who beat their bodies into submission
Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms.
The tattoo on their backs boasts: “For me to live is Christ and to die is gain.”
Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes. Winners. Martyrs. Who can stop them?
Can hormones hold them back?
Can failure succeed? Can fear scare them or death kill them?
And the generation prays like a dying man with groans beyond talking,
With warrior cries, sulfuric tears and with great barrow loads of laughter!
Waiting. Watching. 24 - 7 - 365.
Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cozy little hide. Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs. Laughing at labels, fasting essentials. The advertisers cannot mold them. Hollywood cannot hold them. Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries.

They are incredibly cool. Dangerously attractive inside.
On the outside? They hardly care. They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate, but never to hide.
Would they surrender their image or their popularity?
They would lay down their very lives - swap seats with the man on death row – guilty as hell. A throne for an electric chair.
With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days, they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.

Their DNA chooses JESUS. (He breathes out, they breathe in.)
Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus.
Their words make demons scream in shopping centers.
Don’t you hear them coming?

Herald the weirdoes! Summon the losers and the freaks. Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes.
They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension. Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.
And this vision will be, it will come to pass; it will come easily; it will come soon.

How do I know? Because this is the longing of creation itself, the groaning of the Spirit, the very dream of God. My tomorrow is his today. My distant hope is his 3D. And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great “Amen!” from countless angels, from heroes of the faith, from Christ himself. And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner. Guaranteed.

Currently True Religion: Taking Pieces of Heaven to Places of Hell on Earth By Palmer Chinchen see related

True Religion

For several years now, Isaiah 58 has been an especially meaningful passage to me. I think of it as my sort of mission statement, if you will. I want to live out Isaiah 58.

Isaiah 58

True Fasting

 ¹ "Shout it aloud, do not hold back.
       Raise your voice like a trumpet.
       Declare to my people their rebellion
       and to the house of Jacob their sins.

 ² For day after day they seek me out;
       they seem eager to know my ways,
       as if they were a nation that does what is right
       and has not forsaken the commands of its God.
       They ask me for just decisions
       and seem eager for God to come near them.

 ³ 'Why have we fasted,' they say,
       'and you have not seen it?
       Why have we humbled ourselves,
       and you have not noticed?'
       "Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please
       and exploit all your workers.

 ⁴ Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife,
       and in striking each other with wicked fists.
       You cannot fast as you do today
       and expect your voice to be heard on high.

 ⁵ Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
       only a day for a man to humble himself?
       Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed
       and for lying on sackcloth and ashes?
       Is that what you call a fast,
       a day acceptable to the LORD ?

 ⁶ "Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
       to loose the chains of injustice
       and untie the cords of the yoke,
       to set the oppressed free
       and break every yoke?

 ⁷ Is it not to share your food with the hungry
       and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
       when you see the naked, to clothe him,
       and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

 ⁸ Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
       and your healing will quickly appear;
       then your righteousness will go before you,
       and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.

 ⁹ Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
       you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
       "If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
       with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

 ¹⁰ and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
       and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
       then your light will rise in the darkness,
       and your night will become like the noonday.

 ¹¹ The LORD will guide you always;
       he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
       and will strengthen your frame.
       You will be like a well-watered garden,
       like a spring whose waters never fail.

 ¹² Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
       and will raise up the age-old foundations;
       you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
       Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

 ¹³ "If you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath
       and from doing as you please on my holy day,
       if you call the Sabbath a delight
       and the LORD's holy day honorable,
       and if you honor it by not going your own way
       and not doing as you please or speaking idle words,

 ¹⁴ then you will find your joy in the LORD,
       and I will cause you to ride on the heights of the land
       and to feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob."
       The mouth of the LORD has spoken.

If this is the definition of religion...

Religion: [noun] A collection of practices, based on beliefs and teachings that are highly valued or sacred.

...Christianity is not my religion. A Christian is what I am. This then is what I call religion:

To loose chains of injustice and break bondages, to set the oppressed free and end all slavery. To share my food with the hungry and to provide the lonely, destitute and homeless with places to call home- when I see the naked and ashamed, to clothe and restore dignity to them and not to turn away from my own flesh and blood. To ignore haters, naysayers and those who want to stop the good being done. To rebuild people, lives, families, houses, governments, and countries that have long mouldered in the ground and raise up new foundations. To delight in God and honor Him by not going my own way, doing as I please, or speaking wrong words.

My religion is love, and I do it in the name of Jesus.

James 1:27 says: Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

I don't know why so many people claim to be religious but have nothing to show for it. I always hear people claiming certain beliefs as their own though further investigation shows that they practice hardly any of the things they believe in. Maybe they practice all the "Don't"s, but everyone conveniently forgets most of the "Do"s. And invariably, any kind of questioning into the correlation between belief and practice will cause them to bristle. 'Hey man, you believe what you want, and let me do the same.' Yet how does that make sense if you say you're a Christian and I say I'm a Christian and we both live completely different lives? Logically, one or both of us have to be wrong about what a Christian is.

James 2:14-18
¹⁴What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? ¹⁵Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. ¹⁶If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? ¹⁷In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead. ¹⁸But someone will say, "You have faith; I have deeds." Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by what I do.

Religion is not belief. Belief is belief. Religion is practice of belief. Everyone has beliefs and everyone has practices, but not everyone has religion. Why is that?

Then I got to thinking, how much religion am I practicing? I'm practicing a lot of religion within the church, but my beliefs extend further than just serving the church. My most deeply held beliefs involve the non-church-going, hopeless-and-lonely, starving-and-dying population, not the I-go-to-church-every-Sunday-because-my-parents-do, I-have-two-cars-but-I-can't-afford-to-sponsor-a-kid-in-Africa, or I'm-called-to-minister-to-the-financially-well-off population. So my conclusion: I've got to stop waiting to live Isaiah 58. I'm 19 years old. That may be young to some people, but in a couple years I'll wake up as a fully fledged adult in my mid-twenties who is expected to have some sort of life direction by then. My life already has direction, all that's lacking is pulling the bowstring back. Every moment I hesitate is a moment that the arrow doesn't fly.

So the next time I see someone picking a fight with a mentally disabled old man on the bus again, maybe I'll do something. And when I see that lady on Irving asking for spare change, maybe I'll stop and ask her what her story is instead of blowing past her. Maybe I'll stop dreaming of doing courageous and compassionate things and actually do them.

Maybe? That's the best I can come up with? I've always daydreamed of doing brave things that brought glory to God. In Advanced Algebra, soon after reading about the martyr of Columbine, when I zoned out, I would imagine a gunman bursting into the classroom and what I would do. Maybe I would throw myself across someone else and take the bullet for them. With my dying breath I would say, "Jesus loves you" or ask them to read the Gospels as a favor to me. (Dramatic, I know.) In Pre-Calculus (are you seeing a pattern of the times I zone out?), soon after reading about Kru Nam (a courageous woman who raided brothels and rescued many children) I would imagine myself in Cambodia snatching children from brothels and taking them to a house where they would be safe. For awhile I thought for sure that these dreams were just illusions of grandeur, or worse, manifestations of pride and self-elevation. I would pray, "Lord, make me humble." But recently I've come to the realization that doing courageous acts is a good desire that God has planted deep within my heart. The desires to defend, to stand for God, and to trust God for my protection are all desires God wants me to have. So lately I've been embracing it, praying: "God, let me be courageous for You. Let me bring You fame."

I want everything that I do to remind people of Jesus. That from each action, seen individually, people would think, "That's what Jesus would have done," and "That's how He would've done it." That every action would be a character sketch of Him.

Currently Your Love Never Fails (CD/DVD) By Jesus Culture see related

Today was a nice day, so I took a walk on the beach, feeling kind of low. Eventually I climbed one of those big sand dunes covered with sharp beach grass, found a spot without any, and sat down looking out at the waves. In that moment of silent clarity I mentally asked, God, where are you?

Then I noticed that tiny grains of sand were sticking to the palm of my hand. I brushed them off and saw that there were still a few hiding in the lines of my hand. With some slight irritation, I was trying to scrape the tiny unwanted grains off of my hand when suddenly a thought came to me, like a whisper. "Though you might think you're just an unwanted grain of sand that accidentally stuck to My hand and got carried along, you were purposely put where you are. Nothing is accidental. You are important to Me, and you never have to be afraid that I'll let you go."

You are not going to steal my joy. Back off.

Currently Rescue By Newsong see related

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

You know sometimes when you look at your present situation and where you were before and wonder, "How the crap did I end up here?" and sometimes it's the other way around and you realize, "Ohhh, that's whyy..."? Well, today was one of those latter epiphanies. For years I've been wondering how on earth I got where I did, what I had done to end up there. Because to my naive, foolish and most definitely a little self-righteous viewpoint, it was none of my own doing-- fate was against me. (Not to say that I was blinded to my numerous shortcomings, faults, mistakes. That couldn't be farther from the truth. I was highly aware. Painfully so. In fact, I was one of the most insecure, self-doubting, and pessimistic people I knew. And some days, that's still true. But I digress.)

As I was saying, I didn't understand why I ended up where I did. Meaning, I saw the yawning pit. I resisted getting thrown into it. But I didn't understand why the pit was there. Because to all eyes, mine included, I was on a path going in the opposite direction away from the pit. But somehow, it materialized before me-- ominous and horrifying in all its deadly implications.

There had to be a reason. I didn't see how I was at fault, but clearly something was to blame. So I blamed everything else. And there was much to blame. There was my environment, school, my friends, the very culture, my parents. And for much of high school, I trod the pathway to the pit, until I got to the edge, looked in, and clung to the edge. I clung to that edge for more than 6 years, longer than anyone has the right to cling without going one way or the other. But as anyone who has fallen into any sort of concave surface can tell you, getting out is no easy task, and you look quite stupid doing it. Well, that's what I did. The looking stupid part, I mean. I was masterfully stupid. How I finally got out had nothing to do with me trying and everything to do with Him.

What I realized today is that your choices shape you, not your environment. Contributing outside factors do shape you to some extent. But as impossible as my situation seemed, what I would do, believe, feel, and think was still up to me. And not knowing that, I was deceived. I blamed. I bemoaned. I "tried." Honestly, what is "trying" really worth when it comes to the hard things? Nothing. Because when it comes to things that you do, things that you have to live with, there's no one else you can blame. "Trying" doesn't do a thing. Only doing counts. There are things that you can "try" at that aren't your fault if you fail. But your life isn't one of them. Not when you get the choice to decide what "failure" and "success" are.

And now that I have decided, I am no longer an infant to be tossed back and forth by the waves and every wind of teaching. The contributing outside factors are still there. But I am different. Not solely or even most importantly because I have made up my mind, but because of Him. Because He rescued me.

And I still need it, I will always need it. All the time. There is never a time when I will have outgrown His help, no maturity which will completely immunize me, no right words that can bulletproof me from all the flaming arrows. That's why I will always need You.