The God of Process:

Today I'm thankful for the process. It's been almost ten years since a crazy, misunderstood, punk kid took a dip in a river and came up a new man. As I look back through the years, trying to edit my mistakes with my iMercy program, I see the significance of the process. There is simply no other way to develop strength of character and wisdom other than walking through life and acquiring them. I wish I would have listened or been told all of this ten years ago. Not that it would have made it better, but possibly more tolerable. Life is about living. It's not about destinations. If we were to edit out all of our journeys, where would all the good stories be, with the mishaps and the fun stuff? I find it funny, as one who is introspective and historically hypercritical of himself, when people look at you and say, "you are wise and discerning". Not to dishonor those who say such things, but the way I see it is life is just this string of mistakes all glooped together, and somehow when you obtain an undetermined amount, they automatically become "Wisdom". Which, by the way, is awesome. It kinda makes me feel like I can't mess up. One could equate it to taking all the stuff in your fridg and cabinets and chunking it into your stove, only to open it moments later to find a tasty chocolate cake waiting for you.So the recipe should really read:1238501982 parts mistakes+1 part grace=wisdom. Funny. I really do feel like I'm on the precipice of something though. God is present. There is community taking shape. The Kingdom is being realized. It's like there's something on the wind. Some sound or melody that you can faintly hear. There is a remnant with their ears to the ground...waiting. I know that God is in love with their waiting. It's such an awesome expression of extravagance. All that we do for Jesus is a waste if he's not real. It doesn't even look sort of sane. It's absurd...and he loves it. In this is the divine tension. It's his sent word not returning void. Except it hasn't started returning yet. Our feeble hearts are just crying out for him to hear us and heal us, and be in our midst and wreck our lives and ruin our perceptions. Our fists are bloody from banging on the doors of heaven for God to pour himself out like never before. That a nation would be changed. That the hearts of the fathers would turn to the children, and the hearts of the children to the fathers. For true peace and love and beauty to be expressed. For the propaganda to end and the perversion to cease. That God would raise up his standard and that heaven and hell would obey. And a little child will lead them. God let it be so. Come and heal us. Change our tradition and our religion. Make us foolish in the eyes of man. Help us forget our pride and set our faces like flint. Raise up those who would tend the flame. Embellish us with your glory. Let us show you off to a broken world in need of a fierce lover. Until the kingdoms of this earth become the kingdoms of our Lord and his Christ.