Stuck in Neutral

Suddenly driving the speed limit is not an option and quick thinking is required. Hitting the brakes will make things worse, but sliding into neutral helps you keep control. More than once, this trick helped me to avoid the lake or the ditch or the oncoming traffic. Then you realize that you can’t go anywhere without putting the car back in gear.
 
Sometimes it feels as though in church we are driving on bad roads, yet sliding into neutral, while tempting, will get us nowhere. Neutral is a place where the engine in running but the momentum to move in any direction is halted. Its like keeping the heat on to be comfortable on Sunday mornings but forgetting that the purpose of gathering is about moving out, even encountering icy patches along the way. Living in neutral is an expression of exhaustion, or fear, or apathy. If the desire to put the car in gear is not there, one might question the purpose of running the engine.
 
Lent, offers us a time to reflect on the journey Jesus makes. One filled with discomfort, danger, and less than perfect conditions. We see the danger signs he might try to avoid if he wants to continue on a ride of self protection, but Jesus doesn’t spend much time sitting in neutral. Yes, he retreats to a quiet place to collect his thoughts, but then he’s off making another point, healing another broken soul, including another one cast out, risking his own safety for the purpose of extending the all encompassing love he embodies. Concern about keeping up his branch of the tradition is not even on the radar.  
 
Anyone connected with a congregation these days is living through annual meetings. We look at where we’ve been and try to be accountable, see where we’ve fallen short (ponder the deficit perhaps) and wonder what the next year will bring. There are hard questions, but the slow walk to death is not much fun. It is hard to attract new life if the organization is in shut down mode. Jesus makes his way to the end in high gear and the new life which emerges surprises absolutely everyone, but not without risk. To move beyond safe and comfortable, traditional and familiar means trusting that new paths are about to open.  It also means focussing on the unknown rather than the known.
 
We are missing drive, determination, risk and adventure. Imagine what might be possible if we, like Olympic snowboarders, trusted that our body will know. That the spirit will support us, that the journey is best done in high gear. They may fall, and even break a few bones, but the passion for the sport drives them to risk. A faith for today could be inspired by that example.