Prepared for Danger by Tami Cinquemani

I was recently reading an interview with a retired Navy Seal. The Seals are a branch of the Special Operations Forces of the United States Navy. Training for the Seals takes over a year, and it is some of the most grueling physically and emotionally challenging instruction ever imagined. Becoming a Navy Seal is voluntary, and at any time during this training, the candidates are given the option of ringing the brass bell and calling it quits. Most do.

Why was I reading about Navy Seals? No, I’m not a military enthusiast – I’m much more of a pacifist. Our church is currently in the midst of a series called “Dangerous Church.” This week’s topic was “Dangerous Situations.” So in preparing for our services, I Googled “dangerous situations,” and up popped the Seals. The training these individuals endure is mind-boggling, and its sole intention is to create a team of skilled and prepared leaders ready for any and all dangerous situations.

There was one particular section of their creed that struck me:

My loyalty to Country and Team is beyond reproach. I humbly serve as a Guardian to my fellow Americans always ready to defend those who are unable to defend themselves. I do not advertise the nature of my work or seek recognition for my actions. I voluntarily accept the inherent hazards of my profession placing the welfare and security of others before my own.

I serve with honor on and off the battlefield. The ability to control my emotions and my actions regardless of circumstances sets me apart from other men. Uncompromising integrity is my standard. My character and honor are steadfast.

Dangerous individuals in dangerous situations whose purpose is to “defend those who are unable to defend themselves” and who do not “seek recognition for” their actions. People who “serve with honor . . . regardless of circumstances” and with “uncompromising integrity” and whose “character and honor are steadfast”. Just imagine the difference a church would make in their community – in their world – if this were their reputation. That’s the kind of Dangerous Church I want to be a part of and the kind of Dangerous Christian I want to be.

Tami Cinquemani

Church 101: All the Things Many of Us Skipped - David Achata

Recently I’ve been thinking about what a real “church” is. You know the rhyme: “Here’s the church, and here’s the steeple. Open the doors, and there’s the people!” Our Senior Pastor, Andy, and I were talking the other day about painting another rhyme on our walls: “Here’s the building, and when you search, open the doors, and there’s the church!” I think we’re onto something.

There’s a natural default mode most of us go to when we think about church. We think of church as a place we “go” instead of something we “are”. We think of church as a gathering based around a service where someone preaches and we sing songs. Honestly, if this is all church is about, count me out because I’m not interested. I think there’s a better way.

About a month ago I took some of my High School kids to North Port Florida, a retirement community close to Port Charlotte. I have a friend there who was placed in a church there that just wasn’t a good fit. So he started making friends at Wal-Mart, Walgreens, Wendy’s and the list goes on. He simply wanted to create a place he could bring those friends.

He’d find someone who looked under 50 and say, “Hey, you’re young; there’s not a lot of young people in this town—want to hang out?” That was five years ago, and he had his first worship gathering a month ago with about 50 of those people who have come to faith. Oh, by the way, they don’t have a regularly scheduled worship service AND they don’t have a building. They meet weekly in each other’s houses and eat a lot together.

Two weeks ago I was speaking at a Youth Rally in Pennsylvania. Saturday night when I was done, I made my way to North Philadelphia to an area called Germantown. There, another friend of mine is an associate pastor at a church in a poor neighborhood where they’ve purchased a house they now use as a central location. Here’s the interesting thing: when they have their small groups or their Sunday schools, or their meals, it’s all in people’s houses or apartments in the neighborhood. We had worship the next morning, and I was moved by the diversity in the house. People there seemed like a family even though they were from different economic backgrounds and cultures.

These two places have six things in common. First, they meet regularly in each others houses. Second, they eat together weekly. Third, there’s a huge diversity. Fourth, they reach out to their neighborhoods. Fifth, “church” is not based around a worship service or a sermon. Sixth, Jesus.

Here’s what I’m trying to say—when the bulk of our Christian experience revolves around a weekly sermon and songs, we skip over what church is about. Church is about life together. It’s about sharing with our neighbors, and it’s about celebrating what God’s been doing (hence, weekly cooperate worship).

Maybe you’re wondering, “OK, if I’m the church, what does this look like for me on a daily basis?” Church is the community that happens in the triad of me, my God and my neighbors. It’s about my growing dynamic relationship with Jesus, and it’s about inviting everyone around me to experience what he’s doing.

If “church” is more than what happens one day every weekend, then how are you doing?

“Here’s the building, and when you search, open the doors, and there’s the church.”

David Achata

The Ultimate Goal by Chad Hess

There are few books that have gripped me within the first page. But when I read Dark Nights of the Soul by Thomas Moore, the second sentence of the introduction really nailed me. “If your main interest in life is health, you may quickly try to overcome the darkness. But if you are looking for meaning, character, and personal substance, you may discover that a dark night has many important gifts for you.” I really had to stop and reevaluate what my ultimate goal was. Health is not a bad goal, but there is much more to life than just health.

The same question can be asked about our ultimate goal for our spiritual life. Is our goal simply to get to heaven? Is that really all there is? Heaven is not a bad goal, but I don’t believe it is our ultimate goal spiritually. The Bible presents salvation and the promise of going to Heaven as the first stage of our spiritual journey. As important as this stage is, there is more. There is an incredible, powerful, and loving God who really wants to have a relationship with me. After all, what good is it to live forever if you don’t enjoy the people you’re with?

Our ultimate goal affects the way we approach God and the Bible. If our goal is simply to get into heaven, then we will search the Bible for a list of entrance requirements. What words do we have to say? What deeds do we have to perform? However, if our ultimate goal is a relationship with God, then everything changes. The Bible is no longer a list of requirements and stories about random people; the Bible is now the story of a God who loves me and desperately wants to be with me. God is not just something to believe in or a concept to know, but a real person who wants a relationship. The things God asks us to do are not entrance requirements for Heaven, but ways to honor and nurture the relationship we have with Him. A relationship requires constant nurture, and the reward is well worth it.

Gone Fishing by John Monday

At the age of nine or ten, I became aware of government and law . . . and was terrified. I saw a copy of the Florida statutes and learned that these were the laws that governed people living in our state, and there were far more laws than I could ever hope to know. As I tried to comprehend the enormity of the law, I discovered that was only the beginning.

The county and city where we lived had similar volumes, not to mention the laws dictated by the federal government. How could I ever do this? I couldn’t possibly even know all these laws, let alone keep them!

Then things got even worse, I learned that literally thousands of legislators and law makers at every level create hundreds or even thousands of new laws every year. I reconciled myself to the fact that I would spend my adult years in prison, not because I was particularly bad, but because I’d never be able to satisfy the requirements of my city, county, state or country.

One day (I think Dad and I were fishing), I voiced my concerns and asked, “How can I do it? It’s impossible!”

I really thought he would share with me the secret to civil obedience. After all, the world is filled with people who aren’t in jail. There must be a catch, a trick.

But Dad said there was no catch, no trick, and that I had no hope of ever keeping all those laws. He told me I was, in fact, probably breaking some of those laws at that very moment (maybe he knew something about our fishing adventure that I didn’t).

“So what do I do?” I asked. That was when Dad shared the secret he said he didn’t have. He may, or may not, have known he was teaching me the Bible, but he was.

He said, “Don’t worry about the law, just do what you know is right (See Micah 6:8). If you do what’s right you don’t have to worry about breaking the law (See Gal 5:16-23).”

I found comfort in those words, and can honestly say that since then I’ve never worried too much about breaking the law, in fact I’m probably breaking some right now. The greater comfort, however, was in the rest of his explanation. Dad said I didn’t have to worry about the law, because I was with him, and I was his son (See Romans 5:8-11: John 3:16).

That’s where I found real relief, believing Dad would protect me from everything and everyone, even myself.

This same attitude permeated my world. I was taught right from wrong, encouraged to do what’s right, and was given all the tools to be a productive part of society. It was my obligation to meet all those responsibilities, unless I was with Dad.

When I was with him, none of the weight of life’s responsibility rested on me. Success or failure didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was his son, and he was my Dad. He would take the heat, and he would pay the bill. Until the day he died, being with Dad meant being free.

I hope my kids, one day, find a Dad like mine . . . and I hope you do too.

John Monday