God is building a home. And God's using all of us - irrespective of how we got here - in what God is building.
This is a stunning statement. As we continue through our series, This Is Us, I am greatly encouraged. God is gathering us and fitting us together to live into God's dream for our neighborhoods.
That's plain enough, isn't it? You're no longer wandering exiles. This kingdom of faith is now your home country. You're no longer strangers or outsiders. You belong here, with as much right to the name Christian as anyone. God is building a home. He's using us all--irrespective of how we got here--in what he is building. He used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now he's using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day--a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home. [Ephesians 2:19-22 -The Message]
Home. Family. Belonging. We are no longer strangers but now we belong. In the midst of our highly mobile and fragmented culture, we have a deep longing for home. And in the midst of a culture that largely lives above place and disconnected from the land, I believe we have a profound desire to be rooted and grounded. This is why we as the church must begin to live into practices that connect us and ground us to our place and to each other.
For what does it mean to live into the reality that we are being built together into a dwelling place for God's presence and love in the earth? In my Richmond Highlands neighborhood of Shoreline or the Delta neighborhood of Everett or the Green Lake neighborhood of Seattle. Each one of us with our individual stories and pain, gifts and brokenness are being knit together into a beautiful mosaic that displays the glory of God. Here. In this place.
As friends, neighbors and strangers gather regularly in our home, these metaphors of home and family are not difficult to imagine. We gather every Sunday morning around our living room, to remember that Jesus is real and to find sanctuary and stillness in a world gone mad. And yet, this idea of family is palpable. In the smiling faces around the room, the freshly brewed coffee and homemade banana bread, and the swirl and squawks of babies and children as we lift our voices together. It is not a huge stretch to imagine that we are part of a family.
And as we gather every Wednesday for a neighborhood dinner around candlelit tables and share conversation and a meal, this idea that God is creating a home is not too far out of reach. I love that almost every week there are new faces welcomed in and new stories to be heard along with the mix of regulars and the joy and ease of friendship like the comfort of a well-worn shoe. Yes, we belong. We fit here. We are no longer strangers. We are home.
This is the gospel story. And as I walk the streets of my neighborhood and pass the homes of neighbors, both known and unknown, some that are a part of our faith community, some that are a part of the greater body of Christ, and some that are people of peace in my neighborhood, I am aware that the Spirit is at work here, weaving us together to create a fabric of care.
And I am grateful that God is not distant or removed, but has chosen to live here in and among us. In this place. God became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood [John 1:14]. The incarnation is not just a fancy word. But as Teresa of Avila has said, Christ has no body but ours. And now we (yes you and me and our neighbors) are being built together into a dwelling place, a temple and a home for the very presence of God.
Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
-Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)
This is what it means to be the church. This is what it means to be citizens, family and a home for God's presence in our neighborhoods.
by Jessica Ketola
This is a stunning statement. As we continue through our series, This Is Us, I am greatly encouraged. God is gathering us and fitting us together to live into God's dream for our neighborhoods.
That's plain enough, isn't it? You're no longer wandering exiles. This kingdom of faith is now your home country. You're no longer strangers or outsiders. You belong here, with as much right to the name Christian as anyone. God is building a home. He's using us all--irrespective of how we got here--in what he is building. He used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now he's using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day--a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home. [Ephesians 2:19-22 -The Message]
Home. Family. Belonging. We are no longer strangers but now we belong. In the midst of our highly mobile and fragmented culture, we have a deep longing for home. And in the midst of a culture that largely lives above place and disconnected from the land, I believe we have a profound desire to be rooted and grounded. This is why we as the church must begin to live into practices that connect us and ground us to our place and to each other.
For what does it mean to live into the reality that we are being built together into a dwelling place for God's presence and love in the earth? In my Richmond Highlands neighborhood of Shoreline or the Delta neighborhood of Everett or the Green Lake neighborhood of Seattle. Each one of us with our individual stories and pain, gifts and brokenness are being knit together into a beautiful mosaic that displays the glory of God. Here. In this place.
As friends, neighbors and strangers gather regularly in our home, these metaphors of home and family are not difficult to imagine. We gather every Sunday morning around our living room, to remember that Jesus is real and to find sanctuary and stillness in a world gone mad. And yet, this idea of family is palpable. In the smiling faces around the room, the freshly brewed coffee and homemade banana bread, and the swirl and squawks of babies and children as we lift our voices together. It is not a huge stretch to imagine that we are part of a family.
And as we gather every Wednesday for a neighborhood dinner around candlelit tables and share conversation and a meal, this idea that God is creating a home is not too far out of reach. I love that almost every week there are new faces welcomed in and new stories to be heard along with the mix of regulars and the joy and ease of friendship like the comfort of a well-worn shoe. Yes, we belong. We fit here. We are no longer strangers. We are home.
This is the gospel story. And as I walk the streets of my neighborhood and pass the homes of neighbors, both known and unknown, some that are a part of our faith community, some that are a part of the greater body of Christ, and some that are people of peace in my neighborhood, I am aware that the Spirit is at work here, weaving us together to create a fabric of care.
And I am grateful that God is not distant or removed, but has chosen to live here in and among us. In this place. God became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood [John 1:14]. The incarnation is not just a fancy word. But as Teresa of Avila has said, Christ has no body but ours. And now we (yes you and me and our neighbors) are being built together into a dwelling place, a temple and a home for the very presence of God.
Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
-Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)
This is what it means to be the church. This is what it means to be citizens, family and a home for God's presence in our neighborhoods.
by Jessica Ketola
RSS Feed
