Oooh, getting all fancy and theological over at A Deeper Church today, writing about the weirdly popular word “missional”. I have read arguments about how this word has icky connotations (which it does, totes) but it also seemed to miss the mark of all the people I had observed who were living out this life instead of writing treatises about it. The people I know who would be classified by the church as “missional” are not colonizers. They are mustard seeds, ground down in the dirt, trampled by the city and its inhabitants. They are a pinch of yeast, spreading slowly through the bread, doing their work with little to no programs or specialized plans (hence, no recognition). Most of my favorite people are unglamorous hilarious, hardworking, celebratory, messy people. They are missional.
I can only hope to be one of them.
You can read the piece here.
As a side note, in several days I will be immersed in the Moving Tornado. I don’t know when I will have access to consistent internet again, so who knows when I will blog again. Things have worked out to such a degree that me, the hubs, one of my besties, AND my sister are caravanning out to the exotic midwest, so it is seeming more and more like a grand party/adventure. This is helping.
It is also helping that I am completely emotionally shut down. Apartment fell through? No problem. Transmission acting funny? Whatevs. Saying goodbye to people I have lived/worked with for 8 years? Ok, that’s fine.
Sigh. I do think at some point during the drive out I am going to put some Steven Curtis Chapman in on the ol’ car stereo and sob my guts out.
I’m divin’ in, guys.