All In: According to God (Part 1–Off Course)

I met Zach when I spent a weekend speaking for the Overland Park church in Kansas City. Zach comes from a family of pilots. His brother, father and grandfather all flew private airplanes for a living.

Zach told me of the time his grandfather was hired to fly a small plane from Alabama to Ohio. Several hours into the journey, after the sun had set, the instrument on the plane that pointed to their destination and direction failed. They no longer knew where they were. They no longer knew where they were going. They no longer knew how to get there. 

The gas level became dangerously low. Zach’s grandfather found an interstate and flew low enough to try to read the road signs just to see if he could determine where they were. Just as the gas was reaching a critical level, they spotted a small rural airport and landed on fumes. A conversation with the manager at the small office at the airport and they realized just how astray they were.

Consider this: If you were an airplane, if the church were an airplane, what direction should it be flying? What destination should it be headed toward? And how would you know if it were off course?

John Ortberg, in Eternity Is Now In Session suggests that the answer for many of us is boundary-based. That is, we know we’re on course because we’ve passed the milestones that move us from being outside the boundary of Christianity to being inside–baptism, confession of faith, tithing, church attendance, taking the eucharist, holding a title like “deacon” or “elder,” etc. As long as we’re checking off those boundary boxes, we’re flying the perfect path.

Brian McLaren, in The Great Spiritual Migration, suggests that the answer for others of us is belief-based. That is, we know we’re on course because we’ve embraced the spiritual doctrines that our Christian tribe deems to be the most important–especially those which have to do with the hot button issues of the day. As long as we’re “sound” in our doctrine, we’re flying the perfect path.

But here’s my concern, and the concern of the Bible–it’s possible to be perfect in boundary-based destinations and belief-based directions and still fail miserably at what matters most in the Christian faith. The Gospels find Jesus over and over condemning religious people who have passed every milestone needed to push them past the boundary into the circle of “the faithful,” or who have embraced every belief believed to mark a “faithful” person of God, yet who were infuriatingly intolerant, biased, and violent toward others, especially any who were unlike them. 

In Matt. 9, Jesus welcomes a tax collector named Matthew and others whom the religious elite called “sinners.” The pious urge Jesus’ disciples to put an end to this open-door policy. Tax collectors and sinners belonged out there, not in here. Jesus replies, “Go figure out what this Scripture means: ‘I’m after mercy, not religion.’ I’m here to invite outsiders, not coddle insiders.” (Matt. 9:13 MSG)

It’s that intentional, intense, reckless and revolutionary commitment to inclusion that many seem to have forgotten as the destination of our aircraft, the direction of our flight path. We may have some boundary markers passed. We may have some beliefs embraced. But we’ve strayed wildly off course when it comes to a faith that focuses on the just and compassionate treatment of all.

I see this in the story of a middle-aged man I met in the midwest. While on a business trip a few years ago, he stopped to visit a church. The church member manning the door halted him. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I can’t let you in.” When the man asked the reason why, the church member pointed to the color of the man’s skin.

I see it in the story of a young man I met after a church service. I’d just finished preaching about the church being a space where people from many backgrounds are invited to pursue spirituality. “I’m gay, “ he said, “and this is the first church I’ve ever attended that extended a welcome like that.” He’d been run out of all the other churches.

I see this in the story of the young woman who once confessed, “My husband’s been abusive to me and my children for years.” He was a Bible teacher in their church.

I see it in the story of an older couple who shared about the time they started a ministry to neighborhood children. When the kids started coming with the couple to church services, some complained, “You’re bringing the wrong kind of kids to church.”

I see it in myself, like when a dating couple with cognitive disabilities started attending my congregation. I marginalized them for several weeks. There have been times when I, too, have flown unbelievably off course.

In each case, you’d find churches whose websites and statements of faith were pristine in regard to the right beliefs. In each, you’d find Christians whose spiritual biographies included the appropriate milestones like baptism and tithing and eucharist. But in each there was still an unwillingness to acknowledge the inherent worth of others and a passionate pursuit of their inclusion.

But this, it turns out, is the goal. The Apostle Paul writes about it in this way: 

“The plan of the fullness of times is to bring all things together in the Messiah—both things in heaven and things on earth, all in Him.” (Eph. 1:10 TLV) 

God’s got a plan he’s been pursuing for the entire existence of us. It’s a “plan of the fullness of time.” In other words, everything in time has been tracking toward this goal. 

And what is that goal? It is “to bring all things together… all in Him.” Everything God’s been doing from his ancient “Let there be light” to our most recent “Let’s call it a night” has been to “bring all things together … all in Him.” The early Christians called this “union.” We can also call it “all in.” What God wants more than anything is for all to be in. What God dreams of desperately are communities where people experience union with God and with others.

This destination acknowledges two forces. Centrifugal force is pulling all things away from the Messiah, the center, and thus dragging people farther away from Jesus and each other. Centripetal force is pulling all things toward the Messiah, the center, and thus drawing people closer to Jesus and to one another. The former force is from Satan. The latter is from the Savior.

To have “union” or “all-in” as our destination means naming and repenting of the personal and systemic centrifugal sins pulling all things, especially people, apart: hatred, self-centeredness, prejudice, inequality, bias, discrimination, homophobia, racism, sexism, etc. To have “union” or “all in” identified as God’s and our primary direction means pursuing and prioritizing the personal and systemic centripetal virtues that bring all things, especially people, together–reconciliation, repentance, equity, forgiveness, humility, compassion, and justice.

The fundamental question we must ask at the end of the day is “Did we pursue union?” Did we soar toward ‘all-in’”? To not pursue it, to passively disregard it, is to participate in its opposite. To pursue it, to actively seek it, is to participate in the longest running divine project in human history. 

I see this goal pursued by Tommy’s dad. He moved to Liberia with a bag and a book. The bag was filled with medical supplies to heal bodies. The book was filled with Good News to heal souls. A local medicine man opposed Tommy’s dad. He saw the newcomer as a threat. But then cholera broke out, and everything changed. Through an interpreter, the medicine man said, “Come. Bring your bag. Leave your book.” Tommy’s dad went, healing as many bodies as he could. Soon, through the interpreter, the medicine man approached again: “Come. Bring your bag. Leave your book.” Tommy’s father went, risking his health to heal people who looked and lived differently than him, honoring the inherent worth of each, practicing costly inclusion. Finally, after three years, the medicine man came again. “Come,” he said. “Leave your bag. Bring the book.” Everyone wanted to know what would motivate a man like Tommy’s dad to practice such reckless compassion. It was, of course, Jesus the Messiah.

This is our destination and direction. This series will explore this goal. And it will provide several practical ways to enact it. We’ll explore this purpose as outlined in the ministry of Jesus. And then we’ll examine some ancient and modern models that show us steps to take toward living all in. Join me in living and loving all in.