I was actually struck last night (during missional community ... in the middle of gospel groups) at either a) God's ability to really harp on one thing during a given season, or b) my reticular activator. Whichever thing it is (probably a good bit of both, God did make reticular activators, after all), it is teaching me something.

I do things wrongly all the time. Like everybody, I get sideways and messed up and those wrong things become so ... everyday that I hardly notice them anymore. One of these recurring problems is this insatiable need desire to know what is next; to know how God plans on doing whatever it is that he's going to do with my life, or through my life.

But sometimes, on a good day, I realize that if he actually did that—if he actually were to lay it all out for me—it would totally kill the joy of the journey. Adventure, by definition, is a bold, usually risky undertaking of uncertain outcome.

The thing that I do wrongly all the time is this: I ask God the same thing that Thomas asks him in John 14. This is where we were last night in gospel group, John 14 where Jesus says, "Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. And you know the way to where I am going.”

What cracks me up is the way Thomas responds, because it's totally the way I would respond. I can hear him, with that tone of Isn't this obvious? in his voice. He says, "No, we don’t know, Lord. We have no idea where you are going, so how can we know the way?”

This is where Jesus responds with his famous, "I am the way, the truth, and the life ...."

It reminds me of something I read the other day in Don Miller's book Searching for God Knows What. He says: "Moses wrote Job before he wrote Genesis, most scholars agree, and so the first thing God wanted to communicate to mankind was that life is hard, and there is pain, great pain in life, and yet the answer to this pain, or the cure for this pain, is not given in explanation; rather, God offers to this pain, or this life experience, Himself. Not steps, not an understanding, not a philosophy, but Himself. ... And so from the beginning, from the very first story told in Scripture, God presents life, as it is, without escape, with only Himself to cling to."

It's exactly what Jesus says to Thomas. "Dude, you've got it all wrong. The way isn't a path, it's a person. It's not where you walk, it's with whom you walk. Stop asking where we're going to end up and just STAY WITH ME. It's not about where we end up, it's about our relationship ... the journey is just so that we can get to know each other better, so that you learn to trust me."

It worked for Job. In the end he said, "I don't need an answer to any question that I have asked. You are too great for me to fathom. I place my hand over my mouth."

God knows we want to know where we're going. God knows we don't like surprises sometimes. God knows we get very antsy when it seems like everything is falling apart and we have no instructions on putting it all back together. God knows all that—he does. He created us, so he knows. But he created us for himself, and we'd do well to remember that even if he did give us instructions, they wouldn't help. Because what we really need ... is him.

I have to admit, I wasn't a fan of Olathe to begin with. I remember driving out to a prayer deal at the "Rhodes Facility" as it was called at the time, cursing the I-35 traffic and just irritated in general that we were considering buying a piece of property south of 119th Street. I figured my heart would change in time, though, only I didn't realize how much.

I've only been in the building a handful of times. I remember shopping with my friend Jennifer when it was actually a furniture store; she needed a couch. Then I remember wandering around it when it was a shell, praying for names on notecards that we'd scattered on the floor. We had a staff lunch there once, and then I had a quick audio-visual tour as things were starting to really come together. Then Ryan Heckman and I spent an afternoon out there making that wooden contraption that we piled our stones in on Covenant Sunday. It wasn't as if I really had my finger on the pulse or anything, but I'd seen the thing coming along and had at least started to think we were in for a pretty cool move.

But last night. I didn't expect last night. We all (Heartland + the Gathering) got together for worship and prayer in that time slot that we used to call New Community—first Wednesday nights at 7. I don't know how long it took me to get there, probably 20 minutes or so, but instead of being irritated the drive felt short. When I pulled off the highway it felt strangely like home. When I pulled up to the building, it just looked so pretty. There was a warmth and a life to it.

God does that to a place.

Take the earth, for example. It was "formless and empty," then Yahweh God spoke and it came alive. He breathed life into it. That's what he did to that building out there, out in Olathe, the one at 12175 South Strang Line Road. Somewhere between the walls being painted green, the floor being polished, and the wooden accents going up, Yahweh spoke and it came alive.

Last night I stood at the back of the auditorium between Patty Johnson and Jason Hamilton as Tom Brawner gave us instructions from the stage. We were to pray for awhile, then gather to worship in song. He was painting a picture for us with his words, and he had in front of him a sign that Jim Gum had saved—the sign that said, "RHODES." Tom said, "We used to call this place the Rhodes facility ... now we call it something different. We call it the home of Heartland Community Church and the Gathering Network." There was a lot in that sentence for me—enough to bring tears to my eyes.

All at once I felt the sadness of being separate from Heartland. But I also felt the joy of being a baby organization with a commission. And then I felt the grace of still being hand-in-hand with Heartland. Knowing that they bless us and we bless them, and that they love us and we love them, and that they believe in what we're doing and we believe in what they're doing.

When we came together again in the atrium about 45 minutes later, I stood looking around as we all sang You are the name above all names ... You are worthy of all praise ... and the sight of it all brought tears to my eyes again. This place, this place we now call home, all aglow in green and orange and shiny gray, full of love and voices and music, was entirely beautiful.

I wondered how Adam felt in those first days, when it was just him and Yahweh and all the animals he'd just finished naming. I wonder if he wondered about what was in store for the Earth, about the people who would walk on it, and how much beauty we'd find in it. I wondered if he had a sense of being at the beginning of something huge. I wondered if he got all teary-eyed some afternoon while taking it all in and said to God, "Dude. This is EPIC."

Because that's what happened to me last night. 8301 has a thousand precious memories attached to it, but 12175? We got to be here for its birth. We got to see God breathe life into something formless and empty. And I stood there last night teary-eyed taking it all in I said, half-out-loud, to God, "Dude. This is EPIC."

Welcome to our new home, friends. God's already there; it's already holy ground.

I knew immediately I'd like it. I loved Fight Club. And I got kicked out of the room during the first ten minutes of Sense & Sensibility because I wouldn't stop making fun of it.

But the assumptions of which gender prefers which kind of movie is not what we're talking about here. We're talking about the movie District 9. My friends, it is GOOD, even if you did enjoy Sense & Sensibility.

I will concede that the movie is brimming with gratuitous dropping of the f-bomb, lots of splattering of blood, and way too much vomit. Folks, there is a reason it's rated R. So brace yourselves, but please please go see it.

It's a beautiful story. About human nature and how evil it is. About how when we don't understand something or someone we form bull-headed opinions and exploit the visible outer layer of what we can see. About how we, all of us, have a world-view based on assumptions.

Upon seeing this movie, it's blatant. You'll see what I mean. You'll see how it illustrates why we need missional communities, why we need groups of people with a common conviction to understand and learn about and learn from and immerse themselves with and walk in the shoes of someone else, or some group of people.

When we are apathetic, we become impatient. And when we're impatient, we stop listening. And when we stop listening, we can't understand. And when we don't understand, we become self-righteous. And when we're self-righteous, we put ourselves on a plane higher than others ... and when we do that, we are lost and blind. For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; for the same Lord is Lord of all, abounding in riches for all who call on Him; for "WHOEVER WILL CALL ON THE NAME OF THE LORD WILL BE SAVED." —Romans 10:12–13

So if you can get past the f-bomb, and the blood, and the vomit—please see the movie. It's a parable—one that illustrates so well something that we all need to remember in a way that really helps us remember it.

Me, groggy: "Hello."

Jon, screaming: "WHOOOOOO!!!! WE'RE LIVE!!!!"

I don't normally sleep until almost nine, but I was up well into the morning hours making some last-minute changes. At about 3:45a, we went live. I know it's just a website, but I feel like I've given birth. Exhasuted. Proud. And I just want to look at it.

In the words of Sean Richards on this past year's winter retreat, "We're really doing it this time."

So take a gander around the new gatheringnetwork.org. I hope you like the new baby. The good news is, this one won't poop on you.

Enjoy. :)

ag