Fruit Fries or Faith, ma'am?

We got a new menu last week in the café. Needless to say, there’s been more than a little bit of backlash…

“I’d like the Turkey and Havarti sandwich.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not on our new menu. Would you like to try something else? We have many wonderful new items.”

“GOSH! That was like the greatest thing on your menu. I’ve had a horrible day and that was the only thing I was looking forward to.”

“I’m sorry ma’am. Your pitiful, empty and shallow morning must have been atrocious so as to allow a sandwich to disrupt your life. So just because your complaining cacophony has rung so loudly in my ears - I’ve decided to whip that sandwich right up just for you.” (would have liked to say it)

“Why did you take that sandwich off?”

“I just really hated it… But also, today – I hoped to crush your superficial, sandwich-satiated, barren, sorority-driven existence.” Then smile with a slight head tilt. (again – not said, but the smile was there)

She stares at the menu, disgusted.

“Well, if you’d like to fill out a comment card, they’ve already added a couple of items back to the menu due to repeated customer complaints.”

“Nah, that’s alright. I’ll just have the…”

I could recount numerous stories of ridiculous customers all day, but that isn’t the focal point of this post. It’s really the attitude behind the actions,

Or lack thereof.

There’s simply no initiative. She will complain (it comes quite easily to her), but she won’t do anything beyond that. Even Bruce Wilkinson appears to finally understand that you might have to do something besides ask for a blessing (tongue deeply in cheek). By the way, Billy Idol gets it, why can’t she.

I’ll admit it. I’ve done my share of complaining this year – from church leaders, to Bush, to friends, to money situations, to self-pity; I’m as guilty as anyone else. But I’m trying to do something about my problems, lots of which stem from being cornered within a spacious prison of physical walls...

The physical walls of the church, that left me spiritually segmented and deeply unsatisfied.

I could have complained about the church (and the church) forever, but rather than just sit on my laurels, I followed God’s call on my heart. I left… and it wasn’t easy. It took prayer and coaxing and encouragement and most of all – Faith. I never would have though that one of the greatest leaps in my spiritual journey came from leaving the Western-style church, of which I have been a patron most of my life.

Through that single step into the unknown and uncertain I have learned more about God (Jesus and the Holy Spirit of course, too), man, Church, culture, relationships, and love than any other time spent within the walls of a church, beside the beaches of a camp, during the songs of a worship service or from the mouth of a preacher. Complaining was only the beginning. I really wanted something to change within me, within the Church and within the world, and I could talk about it all day, but that wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans. So I took initiative. I stepped out into a new “promise land,” where I am uncomfortable, offended, misunderstood, mocked, and constantly searching for God’s reassurance and guidance.

Words like gospel and evangelism and sacrament have been given fresh meaning. Biblical authors speak to me in ways they never have before. Believers are a blessing, and not-yet believers are a delight. Stories, hardships and communities - both ancient and modern - exhale peace, peril, hope, grace, and life into my story and struggles. There are not enough words to describe for you or to you the magnitude of these past couple of months. Perhaps one day, I’ll just paint or dance or sing my joy to the Lord and you’ll be able to experience it with me… But maybe the greatest part of this faithful journey is that Jesus proves to be exciting, new, challenging, intense – and completely extraordinary every day.

I, I took the road less traveled by,
and that has made all the difference.