Fellowship In The Red Dirt

Only a handful of cars passed as we drove eight hours north from Coober Pedy on the two lane highway. It was the red dirt that called us to the center of the Australia. Hours passed with not a word, just the hum of the van and the slow motion of our breath. We stopped several times along the track to touch the unusual crimson sand. It was enchanting, mysterious and unlike anything we had ever seen. As our eyes delighted in the arcane landscape our minds began to wonder off. The rhythmic monotony of the road was comforting and as I sunk into the richness of the deep red, ancient words came into focus.

“Come. Sit down. Let’s argue this out.
If your sins are blood-red,
    they’ll be snow-white.
If they’re red like crimson,
    they’ll be like wool.

I contemplated that first line. It was true, I was unsettled and ready to hash it out. I delighted in the relational nature of a God that was willing to argue it out with me. Then memories of the past twelve months began to flood my mind. Memories of new people and new places. So many new experiences to digest and to try to make sense of.  I realized I was full to the brim with newness almost the point of bursting. I was overwhelmed with the stories of kinfolk we had met along the way. Some were stories of overcoming great obstacles, while other were filled with such betrayal, suffering and heartbreak.

I had witnessed injustice face to face, through the eyes of so many who have been oppressed by empires and religions. Then I watched a mighty storm roll in from afar, as those I loved began to war against one another in online forums. And, then there was the recent news of my fathers ailing health which sent me spiraling, wondering what I was doing in the middle of the desert, when I just longed to be home.

There is a flux between faith and reason and I was wrestling to find the balance; questioning what was the point to all of our suffering and rightly so! In his book, God, Medicine and Suffering, Stanley Hauerwas states that suffering creates a silence which is not easily shared. Oh! the silence.

As the miles of red dirt passed, my soul was overwhelmed at the uncertainty and I wept. I pressed into Abba’s heartbeat like a child to her mother’s breast. Then He whispered, “I am with you.”

I was reminded of Jesus last recorded words which were translated from the original Greek to English, “I am with you always—regardless of circumstance, and on every occasion, even to the end of the age.”

I don’t have many answer to sweeping philosophical or theological questions about suffering and evil but I do have a divine community of care that has made it possible for me to absorb the waves of suffering that may threaten to destroy.

It’s not wrong to ask tough question but those questions cannot be divorced from the power structures of the social situations they reflect. When we turn the Christian faith into a system of beliefs that can be universally known without transformation; then that faith practice becomes a civilization religion or what I call Empire Christianity.

It is empire Christianity that creates the ethos necessary to sustain the empire rather than being a set of convictions about God’s work in Jesus Christ.  It is empire Christianity that makes the assumption that good must ultimately triumph, otherwise the universe, as well as, the social order is incoherent.

However, in my faith practice as a Jesus follower, I recognize that suffering cannot be separated from my calling to be a new people made holy by transformation. That transformation is inseparable from fellowship with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It is that assurance of community that has made it possible for me to push past the silence to tell the stories.

I’ve heard it said that it is the gift as well as the burden of the artist to tell the stories, to break the silence.

The Psalmist shows us the way and teaches us to tell the story of suffering. The psalmist teach us that Abba can handle our complaints. These laments are meant to name the silences that our suffering has created and bring us into communion with Abba and with one another, to rage that we see no point to it all. And yet, our very acknowledgement of that fact makes us a people capable of living life faithfully. In fact, our willingness to expose our pain is the means that Abba gives to help us identify and responsed to evil and injustice, pain and suffering. It is through lament, through story that we find our way out of the silence and back to the light.

Physically, the red track led us to Alice Springs but spiritually the track led me back to the heart center.

Psalm 80; God Implored to Rescue His People from Their Calamities.

To the Chief Musician; set to [the tune of] “Lilies, a Testimony.” A Psalm of Asaph.

You brought a vine out of Egypt. You drove out the nations, and You planted it.You cleared the land for it. And its roots went deep and filled the land. 10 The mountains were covered with its shadow. And the tall trees were covered with its branches. 11 It sent out its branches to the sea, and its new branches to the River.12 Why have You broken down its walls so that all who pass by pick its fruit?13 The wild pig from among the trees eats it away. And whatever moves in the field eats from it.

14 O God of all, we beg You to return. Look down from heaven and see. Take care of this vine. 15 Take care of the root Your right hand has planted, and the branch that You have raised up for Yourself. 16 They have burned it with fire. It is cut down. May they be lost when they hear Your strong words. 17 Let Your hand be upon the man of Your right hand, the son of man you have made strong for Yourself. 18 Then we will not turn away from You. Give us new life again, and we will call on Your name. 19 O Lord God of all, bring us back to You. Make Your face shine upon us, and we will be saved.



On Bikers Down Under and Faith

GS INT BK RGBWhen I think of a biker club I don’t necessarily think of God. But we learned that the two can in fact go together really well.

Seriously, we get to meet some of the most amazing people, in some of the most diverse sub-cultures. Meeting kinfolk at the Surrender Conference who were associated with God’s Squad was no exception. We were loosely connect to them through our friend and fellow muso, Sammy Horner and found our way to St. Martins Anglican Church in Collingwood two years prior. St. Martins is a hub for God’s Squad founding father, John Smith. But this was the first time we’d been invited into the home of a biker and must say it made quite an impact on our whole family.

IMG_7046Our host family was welcoming and genuine. We spent a few days listening, living alongside and sharing sacred space with Renee, Di, their talented and beautiful children and extended community. They live just on the outskirts of Glenrowan, VIC; the famous town of the outlaw, Ned Kelly. They were no holds barred about their faith and consistent in sharing truth and love with those around them. In fact, we experienced a revolving door of folks from their community through out our visit.

Renee is a fantastic fine artist, bike craftsman and club president for the chapter in their area. And, Di his wife, is a seminary student and gifted prayer warrior. When we arrived Renee was working on restoring a bike and he and his kids welcomed us with a warm cup of tea and a tour around the bike shop and property. Di came home soon after and we dove right into spiritually minded conversations, made dinner and learned about the biker world and their vocational call to God’s Squad.

We learned that God’s Squad was established in the late 1960’s in Sydney, Australia and founded on a broader basis, under the leadership of John Smith, in Melbourne 1972, where the club colors continue to fly. The club primarily exists to come alongside the ‘outlaw biker fraternity’ and associated groups, where it is an accepted and relevant expression of the Christian church. Since its birth, out of the counter-culture “Jesus movement” days of the late 60’s it has continued, over four decades, to devote its efforts amongst those on the fringes of society. 

Membership is by invitation only, as building a culture of respect and trust is crucial to their endeavors. Most of them ride Harleys, British or big Japanese chops. Folks that join do so based on a sense of a vocational calling. And, when asked about wearing colors, they resound with an 100% committed to their faith and calling– and therefore their patch. Although their lifestyle may be different from other clubs, they connect on a common ground of fighting for injustice, living by a different code, and a willingness to die for their faith. They feel that their commitment to their club and patch is symbolic to their commitment to God. Although, they do believe that their faith is a matter of grace free to all, and club colors are earned. Needless to say, they are serious about who they are and what their purpose is. I don’t know about you but it was refreshing and inspiring to see kinfolk with this sort of commitment to God and their fellow-man.


Lines in the Sand

Hope thru ArtA house divided is no house at all.

You say you love Jesus as you watch your brother fall.

Posturing for power, discord is a whore.

Prowling around like a lion, waiting to devour.

Throw down your crowns

Lay down your pride.

We are all one body

And the Glory is not your own.