Most Christians are clear about not being “of the world”, but don’t live like they’re exactly sure of what being “in the world” really exists like. There are potentially many reasons, but if you have spent most of your time inside “Christian” culture, outside can appear more foreign than it missionally should, and you may not be exactly sure why, or if you really want to inform-to-reform this assumption. And it likely does not become any more enticing if the chasm seems like it is increasingly and culturally growing; where each unfolding season is frosting like a snowman’s summer. Brrrr. This predicament confounds as weird, and much too uncommon to have anything much to do with. In my own journey, I had to buckle-up my own big boy pants and challenging dive head-first-in, into my youth; then navigate through, not only considering the real extent of felt-practical-separation, but also seeking a biblical solution to the perplexities of this specific time, and now increasing living period. My wandering can be a representative exploration into this present befuddling for the Christian, with the West’s general location appearing more like a foreign war-zone, with no phone-a-friend, even as there are still faithful and fruitful solutions. These may not appear as common to the modern version of Christianity Lite, where 2% true biblical knowledge has become extra-strength and over-the-top, and even less theological integration into cultural consideration; where well-intentioned sentiment devolves into more virtue-less inaction. And if you find this last line has a little more of an edge, then I can only remind, it is exclusively true love that is enabled to know, and then enact, into what defines another’s very best.
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Entering the world of solid plastering exposed and prepared me for life like I needed to grow up some. Spending over a year with sub-contractors on building sites, who were gifted at creatively describing you with every name under the Sun, and even the Moon, gave me an intimate grasp of the potential mission field. This was catalytic and preparatory for the move into vocational service and pioneering a ministry, because it provided a reality-check, outside the bubble, which is the place of the Gospel-sent.
The above image of words is the tongue-in-cheek reference “the Boss” would initially send me once I completed my time. I would call him, Mithter Harley, riffing the lad, Pike, off the British Comedy, “Dad’s Army”. It was not about the copied excellence of my geographical accent, but the juvenile accentuation that provided the chortling impetus. One of the things I learnt the hard way was that it was not always a good idea being enabled to return fire with a quick response or superfluous banter. Because it would always come back. And with more of the Psalms of Descent. Obviously, and as you can read, this lurching towards maturation and personal development really stood out to the Boss over this time… *Coughs.