The Gospel

“Our gospel is not the gospel unless it is good news to everyone.”

I think this statement has caused me to examine my faith more than anything else I’ve ever come up with or read.  Very likely I stole it from someone smarter and wiser than me but it has sunk to such depths in my heart that it compels me to find people and places that challenge my gospel with their culture, condition, and personality. It leads me to ask questions like: Can my gospel be presented to the rich and the poor? Is it freedom for those oppressed by corporate America and those who will die of starvation today? Does it matter to the urban poor and the middle class? Is the language of my gospel accessible to an un-churched, Hispanic, junior high youth?  Is it hope to the mentally handicapped?

I’m still not able to answer very many of those questions, but I’m trying.  There are a few things I have figured out. The gospel we present must be simple and deep.  It must be refreshing to the weary and freeing to the burdened. It must be the explanation and invitation into the gift of the crucified and risen Christ.  We have to present it out of excitement rather than requirement, and if we aren’t excited about it then we need to re-engage the story through prayer and scripture until we burn once again.  Those who hear our message should walk away knowing that they have heard a deep message of love from someone who cares for them about a God who cares even more.  Conviction is a work of the Spirit, and I believe it comes when a soul is laid bare in front of incomprehensible grace.  We proclaim that grace – the Spirit lays bare the soul.

My brothers and sisters, we are heralds of the good news.  Sharing with others should be exhilarating rather than debilitating.  It should be a natural outcome of a life abandoned to Christ.  And calling disciples into Kingdom living should be a natural product of the church reaching out in love to places where only the Gospel can give hope.  I say this mostly to invite you into my personal struggle to make the previous three sentences a reality in my life.

The Future

For those of you who don’t know, I’m going on a bit of an adventure starting next month. I have resigned from my position at DPC and don’t have a clear vision for the future. I know that it will include another short trip to Uganda (at least 3 weeks in July), and some time in Washington DC (northern Uganda Lobby Days at the end of June), but other than that it’s up in the air. For the fun of it I decided to write a quick list of possibilities that have entered my mind:

1. Take off my shoes, empty my wallet, grab my Bible and just start walking.

2. Start a non-profit to promote radical unity within the body of Christ.

3. Wander around Africa as the Spirit leads.

4. Join forces with my brother to bring the gospel to unreached people groups.

5. Start a church in Selma.

6. Intern with Jesse and help him push the cart so he can retire.

7. Find a way to get paid for being Matt Naylor.

8. Live off of the generosity of my amazing friends and encourage them in their walks with God.

9. Offer to work for food and housing for any ministry who just needs a little extra help and encouragement.

10. Become an internet phenomenon (this may be closely related to #7).

11. Walk through whatever door God opens when I’m in Uganda.

12. Pray and wander until I have seen how God is at work in the following places: Guatemala, Thailand, India, Swaziland, Australia, and throughout East Africa.

13. Keep writing until I get something published.

14. See if I can get kicked out of a seminary. Preferably for loving Jesus and believing the Bible rather than for anything related to #10.

15. Find a wife who is willing to join me in any of the preceding ventures.

Old man in the alley

The old man staggers along, hurting in ways unseen by any but himself. He mutters streams of profanities under his breath, mixed with phrases like “better than this”, and “not who I am”. Screaming into the dark alley, he smashes his glass judge against the bricks of the narrow passage. Even in this action he knows all too well that the next day – when things are a little too much, when a certain friend fails to show up, when no one is watching – the bottle will be resurrected.

“ENOUGH!” he yells the well-worn refrain. He shouted it not to his inner darkness or to that of the alley, as so often in the past. This time the old man shouted to the darkness that is found in the shadow of a cathedral. A darkness which shouted back. Not words, but a pain even worse than before. His entire chest seemed to collapse inward with grief and he fell backwards helplessly. It felt as if someone were shoving a rugged four by four into his chest, and the weight was unbearable. He imagined clawing at the foot of the roughly processed tree, but his fingers were useless against such penetration. Realizing the futility of his efforts, he released a sigh of defeat. As the old man softly vocalized his impotence against the tree now planted in his chest, his body heaved forward, tearing a new flesh from the old. The new man emerged with such force that he went immediately from his back to his knees.

“Why? Why now?” he questioned in heaving sobs. But this was not the time for answers, it was the time for change. A change longed for, yet not fulfilled. As he raised his head from the asphalt he saw his hands in the light of the new day. Hands transformed to those of a youth. Yet behind him he could still hear pitiful whimperings and the sickening sound of tired fists pounding in protest against the splintered post.