My head bobbed; not the forward dip that happens to most people. Rather, my neck gave way under sore muscles and excessively heavy eyelids and the mass that I call my head flopped backwards with enough force to jolt me out of my almost-sleep and set me back at focus. It was only nine-thirty at night, but I was tired. I sat in my office chair, in my bedroom, watching one of the many, many hours of lecture that I had to drill through to take my test within the next several days. My feeble attempt to stay awake found me with a pen and pad of paper, trying to take notes. Words fell off into rabbit trails and scribbles, and large spots of ink developed where my hand finally stopped moving. Notes were both useless and illegible.
The buzz of my phone on my desk next to me provided a reason to stay awake: if it only vibrated once, it was more than likely @Katdish on the Twitter. Sometimes, she has a lot to say. It kept going though; I answered to a sheepish, “Hi, Jake. What are you doing?”
Kenrick, a buddy of mine had somehow managed to end up near my neighborhood (He lives on the other side of town), and wanted to see if he could swing in and say hello. Feeling beat up and tired, I welcomed the distraction from my hours of lecture on Leviticus, so I told him to motor on over. Kenrick and I only have two real conversations. The first is talking crap, like most guys have to do, while the other is talking church and theology.
I met him at the door only a few minutes later, and suggested we walk. Somehow, I manage to sound convincingly smart when I walk and talk. Not only that, but nothing beats a summer evening in Idaho; beautiful skies, temperatures and scenery make for wonderful wandering. Living in the Boise ghetto, I decided that I didn’t want to stick to the streets, so we took to the railroad tracks. Kenrick and I managed to meander, even though our path was established. I vomited everything that I’ve been reading and studying on Kenrick, who took it all in. Even the stuff that he might not agree with, he was willing to discuss.
About halfway through our trek, I realized that this is church. Our conversation, as buddies, about God and Christian culture was an extension of what we call church. When we volunteer with God in mind, we are the church. Frankly, we should do everything with God in mind, and as the church. Regardless of whether or not it’s hanging out at a burger joint, serving at the shelter, whether or not we plan on doing anything even remotely “religious” or “spiritual”.
Perhaps this notion even syncs with the notion that worship is a heck of a lot more than singing songs in church: worship is enjoying God if you ask John Piper, it’s being God’s friend, and doing things you enjoy with Him. It’s similar to hanging out with your best friend, in that you learn about God, and want to know more as time passes.
We need to go out, as the body of Christ regardless of what we do. We need to function with God in mind all of the time, and I don’t even think that’s unrealistic: how many of you forget that you’re married when you’re out shopping? I doubt any of you, and if you secretly winced when you saw that, then go hang out with your bloody spouse! Fall in love with them all over again! (Says that young single guy. . .ha- doesn’t mean that I don’ t have an idea. . . .)
We need to worship Jesus in everything that we do: when eat, play, work and rest. Our thought process must be that the church is us, and that we need to function as such, or else, we’re just as broken as the rest of the world, and that pretty much defeats the purpose! Perhaps living in this mentality will lead to more fruitful, purpose-oriented discussions and actions, instead of flippant, time-wasting.