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“I don’t know. I gave him a lot of encouragement, he seemed to be better.”

John didn’t speak, letting me think it through.

“You’re right, I didn’t help him at all. I guess I just blamed him.”

“Do you think he’ll come back to you next time he has those thoughts?”

I just shook my head, regretting just about everything I’d told him that morning. I’ll have to call him back

and try again.

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“But what about you, Jake. Is it working for you?”

“Is what working?”

“Your faith. Are you experiencing God’s life to the degree you desire it?”

“I get frustrated from time to time, just like today. But overall I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than

what I’m doing right now.”

John’s head didn’t move.

“I mean, I miss the money, and the free time I had, but this is far more worthwhile. We’re making a big

impact on this city.”

Again he sat silently. I didn’t know what else to say, but before I knew it tears began to well up in my eyes

and I found myself gasping for breath. Suddenly I felt incredibly alone.

John’s head finally turned my way. “I’m not talking about what you’re doing. Are you filled with the love of

Jesus like you were the first day you believed in him?” The words worked their way down into my soul and I

felt my insides melting like a pat of butter in a hot pan.

“N...N...N...No!” I couldn’t seem to get it out, my voice jerking with small intakes of air. When it finally

came out it did so with a long guttural sigh. “That hasn’t worked in years. It seems like the more I do for

God the further he gets away from me.”

“Or, perhaps the further you get from him.”

“What?” Whoever he was he certainly looked at everything from a different angle.

“Do you know why you feel so empty?”

“I haven’t really thought about it, John. I’ve been busy and it seems like he’s using me to touch people. I just

figured this is the way it was supposed to be. I don’t let myself think about it too much. It’s too

discouraging. I mean I have a lot to be thankful for, a loving and understanding wife, wonderful children, a

nice home and I’m serving God with everything I have. But it’s hollow in here.” I punched my fist against

my chest as my eyes moistened even more.

“Jim scared you didn’t he?”

“Huh?” For the second time, I was thrown off track.

“Maybe you feel just as empty as he does but won’t slow down enough to admit it.”

“I would never have thought of that, but I do remember how uncomfortable I felt when he was talking. He

was asking questions I didn’t want to answer.”

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“You know what this whole thing is about, Jake?” John sat back on the bench, crossed his arms over his

chest and looked out across the playground. “It’s about life-—God’s real life filling your own. He moves in

so that you will no longer entertain any doubts about his reality. It's the kind of relationship that Adam

tasted when he walked in the garden with God and heard his great plan to have a people through whom He

could demonstrate his reality to the world in more ways than you could ever imagine. It is the kind of life

Jesus lived that was more than sufficient to meet every need he faced, from feeding multitudes with a little

boy's lunch to healing a sick woman who touched the hem of his robe. This life is not some philosophical

thought you can conjure up through meditation or some kind of theological abstraction to be debated. It is

fullness. It is freedom. It is joy and peace no matter what happens—even if your doctor uses the ‘C’ word

when he gives you the results of your MRI. This is the kind of life that he came to share with everyone who

will give up trying to control their own lives and embrace his agenda.

“It’s certainly not what so many have come to believe, like working hard, building big ministries or new

buildings. It’s about life that you can see, taste and touch; something you can frolic in every day that you live.

I know my words fail to describe it adequately, but you know what I’m talking about. You’ve had moments

like that, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Yes I have, but they were always so fleeting. I remember how much it was like that in the early days,

but I’m a long ways from that now. What’s wrong with me? How can I be a Christian for so long, be so

active in the church, and still not get it? How did I lose touch with that life? I certainly was not trying to.”

“I’ve watched it happen over and over again,” John replied. “It is epidemic today. Somehow our spiritual

experience makes the wrong things important and we end up distracted from his true life. It happened in

the early church too. Do you remember what happened in Ephesus and what Jesus said to them in his

Revelation letter? Their theology was impeccable. They knew the truth so well they could spot error like a

fly in a bowl of soup at a hundred paces. They were not afraid to confront those who put themselves

forward in ministry to find out who was telling the truth and who was fabricating a message just to build a

name for themselves. Their endurance in times of suffering was second to none in all Christendom.

Suffering seemed to make them stronger the longer they faced it and they never complained when assailed

by others. But for all that, was Jesus pleased with them?”

I had recently taught that passage, so I knew what John was talking about. “No, he chided them for having

left their first love.”

“That’s right. Amazing isn’t it? What they lacked created such a vacuum that any good they might have

accomplished was swallowed up by it. They had left the ravishing love they had for Jesus in the beginning.

Without it their service was meaningless. You can get so busy working for him that you lose sight of knowing

him. Too little of it was motivated by their love for him or his for them. That made everything else they did

not just worthless, but destructive actually.”

“That’s me!” I said. “You are talking about me.”

“It’s an old story, Jake. It’s been rerun a million times under a million different names. Do you remember

the day the love of Jesus first captured your heart?”

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The memories came flooding back. “Yes. I was in junior high school, only twelve or thirteen at the time,

but I knew something was up. My parents were in the other room with thirty or so other people praying.

They’d been at it for four hours with no sign of letting up. What’s more they were enjoying it. It was the

same thing every Friday night. They couldn’t wait to get together and pray. Sometimes they sang,

sometimes they laughed and sometimes they even cried. They rarely broke up before 11:00 and often went

far longer.

“This was quite a change for my parents, who, like us, had grown up in church. We were third generation

Baptist on my father’s side and Presbyterian on my mother’s. My parents had settled in as active members

of the Baptist church—attending regularly and serving on a multitude of committees. But they never seemed

to enjoy church. Some mornings we could even talk them out of going.

“But this was different. We couldn’t drag them away with a tow truck. They had moved from being mere

church attendees, to people passionate about their walk with God. In the process, God was changing their

lives. Old habits fell away, God’s presence was stronger than their needs and they were reading the Bible at

every opportunity. I remember them praying about everything. They were joyful, free and alive in their faith

for the first time. It made us kids hungry for it as well. They prayed for us and that’s the first time I

remember knowing the life of God. I even remember hearing God’s voice for the first time.”

“What happened to that?”

“For a few years it grew, and they wanted their church to embrace it as well. But suspicions abounded and

accusations flew. When the dust settled some months later it was clear that they were no longer welcome at

the church. Many of them resigned their membership, but it didn’t dampen their zeal. They just saw it as

persecution.

“Since they were no longer welcome at their church, they decided to start a new one together. The first

gathering brought more than 80 people crammed into a small house. The atmosphere was electric. They

decided to get organized, rent a building and hire a pastor.”

Then for the first time I saw it so clearly. “And it slowly died.” I muttered, astonished at the realization.

“They were so distracted by all the work that they soon lost that joy of simply loving Jesus.”

“Strange isn’t it, that forming something into what they thought was a church could do what persecution

couldn’t? There is nothing the Father desires for you more than that you fall squarely in the lap of his love

and never move from that place for the rest of your life. God’s plan from the days of creation to the day of

the Second Coming was designed to bring people into the relationship of love that the Father, Son and

Spirit have shared for eternity. He wants nothing less—and nothing else!

“This is no distant God who sent his Son with a list of rules to follow or rituals to practice. His mission was

to invite us into his love—into a relationship with his Father that he described as friendship. But what do we

do? We are so quickly captured by a work-driven religious culture that thrives on guilt, conformity and

manipulation that it devours the very love it seeks to sustain.

“In Ephesus it was ferreting out false teachers. In Galatia it was getting everyone to observe the Old

Testament rituals. Today it’s to get people to cooperate with the church program. It doesn’t matter what

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leads people away from God’s life. Anything will do, as long as it preoccupies them enough to serve as an

adequate substitute for the real thing. It’s easier to see the problem when the standard is circumcision in

Ephesus than when it is Sunday morning attendance in Kingston. But both can lead to the same place—

bored and disillusioned believers, no longer embracing Father’s life.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’m not even sure I agreed with him. How could church attendance be like

circumcision?

“Let me ask you a question, Jake. How many ceiling tiles are there over your sanctuary?”

I didn’t even have to think. “There are 312 complete ones and 98 partials.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I count them when I get bored.”

“You must get bored a lot. Do you know how many others have, too? I met a guy once who even added up

the hymn numbers on the tote board to see if they ever totaled 666. Don’t you think people sharing God’s

life together wouldn’t be so good at such things? Might it be a sign that something is wrong?”

Well, he might be right.

“What was your last thought as you arrived last Sunday morning?”

That required a bit more thought. “I was reviewing my notes, trying to think of an illustration I hadn’t nailed

down yet.”

“Yes but what did you say to yourself as you parked your car at the building?”

It took me a moment to fish it out of memory. “‘I’ll be glad when this is over and I can get back home.’” I

chuckled at the thought. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t, but it doesn’t surprise me. You know how many people think that way, even those paid to be

there, like you? The routine eventually withers the life, no matter how good it is.”

“So Jim’s disillusionment is a good thing?” I asked incredulously.

“As is yours. When you realize that the routine you’ve stumbled into is not substantially contributing to your

desire to know God better, some incredible things can happen. Sitting through the same program week

after week wears thin. Aren’t you tired of finding yourself year after year falling to the same temptations,

praying the same unanswered prayers and seeing no evidence that you are growing to discern God’s voice

with any greater clarity?”

“Yes, I am.” Even I was surprised at how fast the answer had come from my lips and the frustration that

came with them. “So why do we do it?”

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“The answer to that, Jake, will tell you more about yourself than it will about the church. For now, let

yourself be honest about your own boredom and disillusionment. This Father has never given up his desire

to share the friendship with him that you had when you were thirteen.”

“There have been other times since.”

“Of course, but they did not endure long, did they? If they had you wouldn’t have needed to cover-up people

like Jim and bolster his spirit with soothing but empty platitudes. People like him shouldn’t be silenced as

those who lack faith. Rather applaud them for their courage to treat their spiritual life as something real. If

the truth be told, Jim’s honesty demonstrates more faith than your discomfort with it.”

“What do I do, John? I want the life that you speak of.”

“It won’t take much from you, Jake. Just be real with Father and resist the urges to crawl back into your shell

and silently endure lifelessness. Your struggle stems from the call of God’s Spirit to your own. Ask him to

forgive you for substituting anything for the power of his love and invite him to show you how your diligent