Passion and Pride

       Let me just go ahead and lay my cards on the table now. This post was unabashedly inspired by Billy Joel’s “Vienna” and I hope you’ll forgive me if I quote the lyrics repeatedly throughout. Go ahead and listen to it when you get a chance, because this man speaks truth. I’ve been addicted to this song lately, and I can’t stop thinking about the difficulty of actually taking Joel’s advice and “slowing down” when the ambition and zealousness of youth is such a powerful driving force. Sometimes we, or should I say sometimes I, get so excited and inspired by an idealistic goal or a perceived good thing, that we (I) just jump right in headfirst. It’s good to have passion and I hope I never lose mine. But, my passion has an ugly twin named pride. And sometimes it’s not simply my desire and heart for something that drives me, but it’s also my sense of self-efficacy and personal accomplishment. For me, the trouble is that most of the time it’s tough to distinguish between the two.

    Since I’ve been in Chicago this summer, I’ve been frequently confronted by both passion and pride. I came to this city to help out with a few new churches that are getting started, serving as summer staff with one in particular that is just getting off the ground. The goal is to help this church become more established and more firmly planted in the rocky soil of Chicago’s Wicker Park community by the time I leave. I love this church and I love the people of Wicker Park. There is no doubt that I’ve fallen in love with the city of Chicago (I keep a mental list of all the reasons this place is incredible and it grows everyday). I’m so happy to be passionate about the work that I’m pouring myself into and the way I’m spending my summer.

     The sneaky thing about starting a church, however, is the pressure that you tend to put on yourself. I’m constantly thinking through our strategies and methods for reaching the community: What could we be doing better? What should we change or do differently? What can I contribute to this process? And there’s a constant questioning of time: How long does it take to start a church? How long should it take to make an impact on the community? How much can I help in the limited time that I’m here? I start to feel rushed and suddenly I want to jump to action and work double-time. When passion and pride join forces, an irresistible whirlwind of ambitious and romanticized visions take over the rest of my sensibilities.

      I think this is the part where Billy might say, “you’re so ahead of yourself that you forget what you need”. And suddenly I’m reminded by this still small voice to “slow down”. Chill out, seriously. When I take a moment to breathe, and to pray, I am miraculously reminded that I didn’t come to Chicago because I loved the city or because I thought it was within my power to spearhead a spiritual revolution or even to start a church for that matter. I came here simply because God was telling me to. For those of you that don’t know God, I know that sounds crazy. But for those of you that do, I think you know what I’m talking about. God told me to come here and be a part of the work that He was already doing. This subtle reminder that God doesn’t need me to do anything is a necessary blow to my pride. As if that isn’t enough, I’m also reminded that God loved Chicago first. God loved Wicker Park first, and He was the first one to decide that a church should be started here.  The only reason I have a passion for this place is because He has a passion for this place. And I’m going to need His help and direction pretty much every second of every day that I’m here, because this was all His plan in the first place.

      Well, that’s humbling. But it’s also a relief. It’s good to know that the fate of this city, or even of another human life, doesn’t rest in my incapable hands. Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to spend the rest of my life putting these feeble hands to the plow in an effort to labor for the truth that I know Jesus Christ offers. But, the harvest won’t belong to me. The results are all up to God. 

Sirens

     Tonight I’m sitting in a neighborhood in Chicago’s Westside listening to the high pitched wail of sirens blaring past the open windows of the apartment. I’ve only been in the city four days, but it occurred to me a couple of days ago that I’ve never heard so many sirens in my life. Monday night as I fell asleep to the sound of rap music, people shouting in the street, and police sirens I considered it my induction into the city. Somehow I’ve always assumed that’s when you know you’ve arrived in a real urban metropolis – when the chirp of crickets is utterly non-existent and the sound of sirens is the typical evening lullaby in every neighborhood. Tuesday night I lost count of the sirens after about three or four.

     I used to have a little ritual related to sirens – every time I heard one, regardless of whether it was the police, an ambulance, or a fire truck, I said a quick prayer for whoever was on the receiving end of this urgent assistance. Having once seen my own father wheeled away and rushed off by an ambulance, my heart went out to whoever that siren was headed for. Sirens signal an emergency, a dire situation in which immediate aid is required. Many times, the arrival of help means life or death to whoever sounded the alarm. Sirens mean someone is in trouble.

     I started thinking about the city, and I started wondering: “What if there were alarms that went off, not only when someone was in physical peril, but every time someone was in spiritual danger?” At least here in Chicago, the whining cry of sirens would never cease. This city is a dark place, it’s a dangerous place, and not just because of the crime rate. It’s a dangerous place for the soul. There are a lot of people drowning and very few lifeboats pulling people aboard. If there was an audible reminder every time a soul in this city was going under, how would Christ’s followers respond? How would I respond? We would be quicker to tell people about Christ, and urgent in our desire to let them know that they could know him too, wouldn’t we? Spiritual sirens - what a great idea, I can’t believe God didn’t think of this first.

     Ha. NOT. After only four days in the city, I’ve recognized that the noise of sirens has begun to fade into the background of my consciousness along with the hum of buses rumbling down the street and wind whistling through the trees outside. I’ve soon forgotten to consider the one that the siren is going to. I’ve certainly forgotten to seek God on their behalf and offer up a prayer. I guess God knew that even if he installed spiritual sirens all over the earth, his people would quickly adjust to the noise and soon neglect the urgent need they implied. So, he gave us something better and much more powerful than any siren, he gave us his word and he told us himself how serious and immediate the need is of our world. And still, we continue to let our neighbors and communities and cities drown in their desperation.

      But, let’s not forget that the message of a siren is two-fold. Sirens don’t only signal trouble, but as I learned when an ambulance pulled into my driveway and ushered my father off to the hospital (and a life-saving emergency operation), sirens also signal that help is on the way. Assistance is imminent. Rescue is within reach. When we hear the sound of sirens, we’re reminded that in our time of desperate trouble we’re not on our own. There are others who’ve been appointed to come to our side and get us to the hospital, put out the fire, take care of the bad guy. Sirens tell us that something is wrong, but they also tell us that someone is coming to help make it right. From now on, when I hear sirens, I’d like to think of the many people I know who are relentlessly bringing the hope of Jesus to those that need it. I’d like to celebrate the fact that even though so many people in our world are in trouble, God has graciously appointed his own to bring help. I’m praying that this summer Chicago would be filled with people who know Jesus rushing to side of those who don’t and offering them the real rescue for their souls. I’m praying that in the many cities where I have friends scattered the same would be true. I hope that we can all take a hint from the siren’s cry and remember the urgency of the job before us.