Not only is it time for me to find consistency in writing again, but it's time to get my focus back on my spiritual journey. That is so hard for us isn't it? Especially in the comforts of America. I vividly remember reading about a pastor who met with a group of other pastors from all over the world in Jamaica one summer and how he was taken back that pastors in Africa said that they prayed for American Christians daily. He wondered what they prayed for, and they replied quite quickly that they knew it was harder to be a Christian in America than in Africa because when you have everything you need and can fix the common cold with cheap medicine, you don't need God. Interesting thought...

And that thought is continued in a book that I'm reading now by Peter J. Gomes called The Scandalous Gospel of Jesus. Speaking on Paul's commentary in Philippians 3 about "our citizenship is in heaven", Gomes has this to say.

If, as Paul says, our citizenship, the place where we really live, is in heaven and not elsewhere, then that is where our loyalties are meant to be placed, first and last. Taking Paul seriously here works when Christian believers are a barely tolerated minority caught up in the persecutions and deprivations of a secular world; when Jews, Greeks, and Romans all regard Christians as not belong to the, then it is both wonderful and plausible to have a place to which one does belong. It is, however, far more difficult to claim heaven as one's primary citizenship when Christians are running the world in which the Christian happens to be here and now. In this case, heaven becomes a metaphor, but as such it really cannot compete with what is going on on earth.

Perhaps all of this means that Christians who take biblical points of view seriously are not meant to enjoy power or influence in this world. Clearly, the New Testament authors never contemplated a time when the world would take its cues from the Christian sensibility; and when Christians start to run things in this world, they usually do so at a cost to their own integrity. It almost seems that Christians are not meant for worldly power, for whenever they hold it, the claims of a heavenly citizenship seem compromised; there is always the temptation to translate that heavenly citizenship into an earthly domain. (pp. 75-76)

The first thing one may get out of this excerpt is maybe Christians shouldn't be running in politics or that we should be leery of the integrity of the faith statements of our current presidential candidates, but I find a more personal examination is in order. While I'm already belong to a majority group of people, and not being oppressed or told I don't belong, how much more am I forgetting or not focusing on the allegiance of heaven in my life? Specifically to power, am I looking to gain worldly power that is compromising my desire to follow Jesus? Am I usurping power over my wife? Do I silently flaunt my role as the primary moneymaker? Do I lord over her, continuing the sin of male domination rather than faithful serving and equal partnership?

In the midst of all this, it is easy to lose sight of the values of our faith: to love God and love neighbor. That is meant to be unique in this world. But the successes of life take over so easily - and our allegiance is pulled.

It is an uneasy tension, and an understandable one in the days of early Christianity, when Christian values and those of the world were at conspicuous odds. The task of sustaining a unique Christian identity becomes increasingly difficult, however, as Christian culture melds with the prevailing culture and therefore seems to have more, rather than less, interest in making a success of life in this world. (p. 76)

So where to go from here? How do we invest in the identity we need to be investing in versus the success we are offered and have already obtained here? I'm hoping that by admitting this struggle, like many other addictions, is the first step to recovery. The subtitle of Peter Gomes' book hits this hard: "What's so good about the good news?" Compared to the good we can gain in the world, sometimes it is very hard to honestly pursue the good offered out of it.

The way I've been feeling recently is typical of winter blues that I tend to get around late January or early February. Days get longer, activities get mundane and scheduled (and indoors), and the promise of warm weather activities is still far off. I feel gridlocked at work as I look back and forth from the stack of notes on my desk indicated what projects need to be done and my whiteboard, which is half blank because it's waiting to be used for the next project. The days feel long and when I don't accomplish as much as I set out, I feel more overwhelmed when I leave then I did when I arrived.

To make things worse, I made my second attempt to return to playing basketball at lunch time yesterday, and it was just down right painful; as painful as my last game pre-surgery. It has been since February 2007 since I played regularly, nearly 18 months and two surgeries ago! I played a couple weeks ago, despite still having a swollen knee, I was determined that I was going to "go back to normal" in my previous athletic activities: basketball and golf.

The first attempt went well. I ran fairly well, I knew my limitations, and the soreness was evidence that I still have more re-shaping to do in my legs. But no serious pain. I was encouraged. So the next week I ran one kilometer on the treadmill (one kilometer sounds farther than 0.6 miles) and only had slight pain, which was my cue to stop. Then I played golf a week later, riding in a cart, and felt great doing that, with only slight pain and a lot of soreness afterwards. It was going well - maybe I could return to consistent semi-athletic competition regularly.

But yesterday killed that for me. I tried to fight through the early pain. "It's just stiff, it will loosen up," I told myself. The middle of the time I was realizing that maybe it wasn't just stiff, and by the end, I was just ready to throw in the towel. After showering and hobbling back to my office, I just felt a wave of internal anger fill me. I just don't understand why my knee won't heal like I was told it would. Twice told this. I'm 31 years old and I can barely climb a flight of stairs. My 21-month-old daughter can walk stairs better and faster than me.

The emotions yesterday were just as overwhelming as my seemingly endless projects. And it just re-iterated just how much I need to be in community focusing on Jesus and other people but myself. But it's pretty damn hard to sometimes, but I knew that already. I think Jesus said it was as hard as a camel going through the eye of a needle. Despite that realization, I am fighting myself about how to handle this issue. It's a real physical ailment that causes pain daily, restricts my abilities, and fluctuates my emotions. What is the realistic expectation that I need to have? That I will never be able to play competitive sports any longer? That I'll need to have a more serious surgery, like a knee replacement? That I'll live with a swollen knee the rest of my life? I just want an answer, and I'm afraid I'll never get one. And I'm just as afraid that every season will become like winter... long, boring, repetitive, sad.

I have to confess, when I went into our camp week, I was still skeptical that I would return with a mountaintop high. But the week was very good, and I do feel that I came back with a renewed purpose and outlook on a number of things. After all of us slept 12+ hours on Saturday night, I felt it was important to make it to church even though we missed the first service. I was hoping to continue, at least for another hour, the mountaintop effect.

But it was more than I was expecting. We saw people we had just broke bread with all week, people that we had never really seen before as we walked in and out of the church building on a given Sunday. It was a whole new experience of worship - a deeper experience, indeed a communal experience! Then later that day as we went to a graduation party of a guy I mentored a few years back, we saw people again from our camp week. I am amazed at this new found community that is springing up before us. All we had to do was go and be.

And go and be who we were is all that we did. We didn't put on a happy face, and we didn't keep ourselves hidden from others either. We just went as ourselves and found a whole bunch of other people who were being themselves and saw that we weren't all that different from them; our feelings weren't much different; our problems weren't much different. We found that a lot of other people were looking for community just like us! Seriously? Yes!

I enjoyed worship so much more deeply, even a little tearfully, than I have in the past. I know that both our pastor and worship leader were at camp, and neither had the same quality of time to prepare for Sunday as they would on a normal week, but the spirit of God was clearly alive and present in words, music, and song. Even in the valley, both literally and figuratively, the effects of the mountaintop were present.

Now as I am finishing the second day back at work, the routine of old is creeping back in. The stress levels are rising, and my headaches returning. But one thing that is still high is motivation to invest in community, to get us invested in community, and to keep our hopes high that going and being will be good for me, for A*, for us. I am praying now that God will keep that fire kindling inside us to hold onto that desire through the busy summer.