Unforced Rhythms of Grace
It started out simply enough. I had loved poetry since early in college and was going through an acoustic music phase in my life. And out of curiosity, I picked up Steal Your Face, a live Grateful Dead album in a record store. It wasn’t acoustic but the lyrics: songs like Stella Blue, Black Throated Wind, It Must Have Been the Roses were poetry. They told stories of vague adventures and hinted at feelings deeper than the words could quite carry. I was hooked. Next thing I knew (actually a few years later), I was a Dead Head. That is the name we give to someone who listens almost exclusively to the Dead and who spends all their vacation time going to “shows” (concerts).
I was originally drawn by the lyrics, then the music, but what really sucked me in was the community, a sense of belonging. In my life, I had never fit in. Largely by a choice of not wanting to be part of the “establishment” of not wanting to be typical, I spent most of my life alone and wondering why there weren’t other people like me. Other people who were different, but who could accept me as who I was.
In that community of Dead Heads, that is exactly what I found. I found people that were willing to let me be who I was and who were welcoming of me “Just as I am” so to speak. I once read a Bobby Weir (the Dead's rhythm guitarist) quote that said to the effect that the Dead and Dead Heads were a rollicking group of misfits that somehow fit together. We were a rollicking group of the strangest strangers. But a group where you could always find a smiling face, a helping hand, someone willing to share a drink, a meal, an orange or a song. And we were all focused, at least at times on the same thing, the wondrous show.
I’m not a dead head any more, so now I don’t fit in anywhere. And once again I am looking for that mystical community where I can be different, even failed and broken, but still accepted. As I type these words, I am forced to rethink my conception of the first apostles. Here was a rag tag bunch of ruffians, if ever there was one. I sometimes think that if Jesus came today, he would go first to dead shows and biker bars to call His followers, rather than the fishing towns. And I doubt very seriously He would take His first recruits from the places I go on Sundays.
But isn’t a mystical community of misfits just what He was starting when He said to Peter,
When He said “My Church”, did Jesus really envision our modern church? Did He dream of a place with so many rules that no one could really follow them yet where everyone had to pretend that they were following them at the risk of being ostracized from the group? A place where leaders tell us who to be, what to think and even how to vote? A place where we either get in line or get out? A place where the lost, broken, dirty and hungry are to intimidated to enter in?
Or did He maybe envision something more like a Dead show? A place where people struggling in their brokenness, as different from each other as night and day could somehow blend together like dusk. Did He, just maybe, envision a place of sharing, giving and helping. A place of acceptance where, who ever you were, you were welcomed and all you had to do was be open to the possibility of directing your focus on that one thing – not the wondrous show, but rather the wondrous Cross.
That is The Message translation of Matthew 11:28-30.
But when was the last time that church felt like an unforced rhythm of grace. Where was the last church where someone didn’t try to lay something heavy or ill-fitting on you? Maybe we need to rethink what we are doing in His name. What we created and are perpetuating. Maybe its time to knock down the walls in our lives and the barriers we put up to keep the others out and just love each other.
Because if God is love and we were created in His image, then what else do we really need to do... except love each other and dance... to the unforced rhythms of grace?
I was originally drawn by the lyrics, then the music, but what really sucked me in was the community, a sense of belonging. In my life, I had never fit in. Largely by a choice of not wanting to be part of the “establishment” of not wanting to be typical, I spent most of my life alone and wondering why there weren’t other people like me. Other people who were different, but who could accept me as who I was.
In that community of Dead Heads, that is exactly what I found. I found people that were willing to let me be who I was and who were welcoming of me “Just as I am” so to speak. I once read a Bobby Weir (the Dead's rhythm guitarist) quote that said to the effect that the Dead and Dead Heads were a rollicking group of misfits that somehow fit together. We were a rollicking group of the strangest strangers. But a group where you could always find a smiling face, a helping hand, someone willing to share a drink, a meal, an orange or a song. And we were all focused, at least at times on the same thing, the wondrous show.
I’m not a dead head any more, so now I don’t fit in anywhere. And once again I am looking for that mystical community where I can be different, even failed and broken, but still accepted. As I type these words, I am forced to rethink my conception of the first apostles. Here was a rag tag bunch of ruffians, if ever there was one. I sometimes think that if Jesus came today, he would go first to dead shows and biker bars to call His followers, rather than the fishing towns. And I doubt very seriously He would take His first recruits from the places I go on Sundays.
But isn’t a mystical community of misfits just what He was starting when He said to Peter,
“… and on this rock I will build my church.” (Mat 16:18).Wasn’t He looking to create a place of safety and acceptance; a place of people helping each other to live and to learn?
When He said “My Church”, did Jesus really envision our modern church? Did He dream of a place with so many rules that no one could really follow them yet where everyone had to pretend that they were following them at the risk of being ostracized from the group? A place where leaders tell us who to be, what to think and even how to vote? A place where we either get in line or get out? A place where the lost, broken, dirty and hungry are to intimidated to enter in?
Or did He maybe envision something more like a Dead show? A place where people struggling in their brokenness, as different from each other as night and day could somehow blend together like dusk. Did He, just maybe, envision a place of sharing, giving and helping. A place of acceptance where, who ever you were, you were welcomed and all you had to do was be open to the possibility of directing your focus on that one thing – not the wondrous show, but rather the wondrous Cross.
"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me--watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."
That is The Message translation of Matthew 11:28-30.
But when was the last time that church felt like an unforced rhythm of grace. Where was the last church where someone didn’t try to lay something heavy or ill-fitting on you? Maybe we need to rethink what we are doing in His name. What we created and are perpetuating. Maybe its time to knock down the walls in our lives and the barriers we put up to keep the others out and just love each other.
“I am giving you a new command. You must love each other, just as I have loved you.” (John 13:34).
Because if God is love and we were created in His image, then what else do we really need to do... except love each other and dance... to the unforced rhythms of grace?
posted by MickyMcB | 11:04 AM
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