as you came to us so we come to you
fragile as a baby hopeful and new
but learning fast that to walk is to fall
soon we’ve done it all
we come broken and we come undone
we come trying hard to love everyone
but we come up short in all that we do
because we do
so we come to you
as you came to us so we come to you
dirty and hurting then dead in the tomb
but raised redeemed to show off the scars
‘cause you’ve brought us this far
you came to show the way not around but through
so through it all we come to you
I still find myself laughing uncontrollably every time I watch this video. Everything about it is magical. Loved this trip, love these kids, love the lack of Catalyst youth choir.
For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs- heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we might also be glorified with him.
I know I fall in love easily. I grow enamored with a group of people or a beautiful place or an intoxicating idea regularly. Almost daily. And when it’s time to move on from that thing my heart has grown attached to, I hurt. Goodbye is that much harder to a heart that loves quickly. Here we are again. On the precipice of change. That gentle ache is settling in, matched with an anticipation for what this semester brings. Another thing I love: newness. Brand newness. Unsharpened pencils, an empty planner waiting to be penciled in, the chance to begin again. I’m going to miss this summer. I’ll miss my students and the impact they’ve had on my life. The laughs we’ve indulged in over our own ridiculousness; those moments where I’ve held them as we cried over shared pain. But simultaneously the smell of a new school year beckons me. And as usual, I’m constantly asking for peace to calm my restless spirit. Oh, this fickle, emotion ridden heart.
I pray that this sort of missional perspective is the lens through which I see every day I’m given and the direction in which every North American church begins to move.
People do not drift toward Holiness. Apart from grace-driven effort, people do not gravitate toward godliness, prayer, obedience to Scripture, faith, and delight in the Lord. We drift toward compromise and call it tolerance; we drift toward disobedience and call it freedom; we drift toward superstition and call it faith. We cherish the indiscipline of lost self-control and call it relaxation; we slouch toward prayerlessness and delude ourselves into thinking we have escaped legalism; we slide toward godlessness and convince ourselves we have been liberated.
I love people and I love their stories. I love knowing, capturing, living those stories. And I love sharing with people the Story that set this captive heart free.
