There is an old story from Downeast Maine about a tourist who asks a local farmer about how to get to an obscure little coastal town. After mentally trying on several posible routes, the farmer exclaims, "Well, come to think of it, you can't get there from here!"
Recently I've received a spat of invitations to come present missional concepts that can be used to enhance Christendom tactics. You know ... make the practices a little more relevant in a post-Christian culture kind of thing! In other words the question is, "How do we make our ministries a little more 'authentic' so that we can attract more young people?"
Hmmm . . . isn't there an old story about pouring new wine into old wineskins? Oh and there's another one about a Greek hotelier by the name of Procrustes who used similar tactics in his welcome to passing travelers. What is the disconnect here?
When asked, "Can these bones live?" we have to be willing to stand in front of the LORD and say, "Only You know that one!" The last thing we need to take on is bone sorting or bone stacking or bone studies. We don't really even have to map the Valley in which the very dry bones are lying!
Instead, we wait for the direction to prophesy to the bones, and then to Ruach. Sometimes there is a waiting period and sometimes it happens quickly that the Spirit comes from the four directions and inspires the bones into a great multitude rising up.
At no point is it appropriate to start bone sorting practices (my funky description of Christendom practices inherited from the 1700 year old marriage of Church and State)!
So here we are in the Valley of (very) Dry Bones. We have a choice before us (once again). We have created generations of professional bone sorters obsessed with classification and categorization and even artificial resuscitation. All along, we tell ourselves that we really want the living, breathing, mysterious Presence enfleshed in the Body of the "called out ones." We wrestle the Divine into shapes we can manage on our tidy altars and mantles but our souls still long for the commands, "Prophesy to the bones" and "Prophesy to Me - the One you call 'Ruach'!"
I may be wrong but I'm slowly coming to believe that, honestly, "You can't get there from Bone Sorting Central!"
With all sober humility, as a recovering bone sorter myself,
Tom
Sources: Ezekiel 37
