Two Weeks in England- Night Two.

Again- this is coming straight out of the Daily, so if you read that, then you can just happily skip on to something more interesting. 

Last night was bible study at Canvas.  I have been sitting here for quite some time, tying to think of the proper way to frame what it was that we saw, what it was that was accomplished, and then I find that my words fall short on the floor, just a few feet from becoming what it is that I need. 

I continue to think about last night, and it has almost become a person to me, as if I could sing a song to it.  If I could, I would put on The Weepies and I would wonder, "What can I compare you to?". 

Last night was one of those times that you look back and you try to find the fitting metaphor, the elegant pen stroke that would paint it just so, but you cannot.  It was not the kind of night that can be put on a page, or in a song, or even a poem.  We lived outside of those boundaries for a little while.  Derek Webb sang to me once, "Love is different than you think, it's never in a song, or on a TV screen."  The kind of love that we see at Canvas- well, it is completely non-recordable. 

Last night was the first time that they have shared the message of Jesus' death on a cross.  

I know that for most of us, we grew up with this story.  We sat through endless Easter pageants and talks and more than we ever could have bargained for.  But consider for a moment that you were someone who had never heard the story before.  Suppose you were an English university student, and you had spent several weeks or months becoming acquainted with this young and very hip ministry on Tiverton Road.  Imagine if you had just walked up on a cold day and grabbed a free cup of coffee from a place called "The Canvashouse", or tea handed out by an American exchange student outside of the doors.  

Suppose you wandered in one night for an open mic gathering, or a poker night. Maybe you went to a cookout.  Then they told you about a bible study on a Tuesday night.  You ventured in because these people seem kind enough and they promised free food.  

You drink your coffee.  You eat your dinner. 

You soak in the sights and the sounds.  The deep and warm colors. 

You watch the band play, and you notice that it's like they really are playing, like children in a sandbox.  They love what they are doing.  They love that time together.  

A pregnant woman stands up and says, "Hey.  We are a Christian place.  We don't want to scare you.  If at any point that you figure that this is not what you signed up for, you are free to leave.  No hard feelings."  The smile on her face is on of those that makes you not want to leave.  You want to see what this is all about.  What are these people all about? 

More songs.  More cheers.  More laughs. 

Nathan stands up to do the talk.  His hands are shaking and so he reaches for the stand to put his papers on. 

Let's go back about an hour and a half. 

Natalie, Robert, Nathan, and myself meet to go over the talk.  Nathan has prepared something beautiful.  It really was great.  

But we got to thinking and we got to talking and I would dare say that something like the Holy Spirit Himself began to move and shake around in that little place that we were tucked into.  

We began to write and to rewrite.  We spelled out Eden, and what it meant to lose that place.  What it was like to lose our perfect and wonderful place with God and with each other.  How we long and dream of being restored to God, how we want to be restored to each other. 

We talked about sacrifice.  How we are trying to fill this hole in our hearts with anything and everything.  How we think that we can be good enough.  How we think that we can give enough.  How none of it will ever quite do the trick.  

"If God was the one who brought us into Eden, why do we think that we can restore it?  Only God can restore what was lost..." These are the things that we wondered out loud and saw onto paper.  

We talked and we wrote more and more and finally we began to describe the sacrifice, you know.. the Sacrifice. We wrote and talked out the entire scene of Jesus' death.  The betraying, the spitting, the mocking, the beating, the bleeding, the suffocating, the dying.  

Kyle had to bring our dinners in.  We finished at about 8:27.  Just in time to pray and to walk into the room, just in time to watch the whole night get started.  

A few moments later, Nathan was up on that stage with his shaking hands.  He was going to tell his friends, this community, about what happened to this Jesus that they had heard so much about.  This same Jesus, who washed dirty feet, who changed some water into wine, who calmed a storm, who fed the hungry and who healed the sick and the dead, this same Jesus breathed his last breath in the worst way.  

All so that the hole in our hearts could finally be filled.  All so that we could finally walk back into Eden. 

Nathan did an incredible job.  I have never seen anyone adapt so quickly and deliver such a talk in such a way with so little time.  

It was the most important moment thus far in this young little community.  Imagine it.  Imagine hearing about the cross for the first time.  Imagine hearing of the cat of nine tails and the rocks and bones and glass woven into the leather.  Imagine hearing of the ripped and torn flesh.  Imagine the sweating blood.  All of this, for the very first time. 

Frederick Buechner famously said that, "All moments are key moments, and life itself is grace."  Can you feel the grace that I felt in hearing that message?  In hearing that story?  We saw the Holy Spirit actually come into a room and take control.  We saw him move in ways that we could not imagine over those 2 hours, over those intense moments of talking, writing, praying, hoping.  

I wish you could have been there.  "Intense" does not do it justice.  I looked at Natalie at one point and I said, "You have to admit it.  This is fun."  And she did. You can't help but to enjoy it.  You can't help but to be wrapped up in the truth that this whole thing is just grace anyway. This whole life that we get to lead is nothing but pure and simple grace.