In his tremendous book, Practicing the Way, John Mark Comer notes, “Wherever Jesus went, the kingdom went,” then urges us to do the same and offers all kinds of practical ways we can do the same.
But instead of lurching forward with the practical ways, let’s just think about that brief phrase “wherever Jesus went, the kingdom went” because I read it awhile ago and it’s stuck with me in one of those good-bad-but-good kinds of ways.
The good is obvious.
This is what Jesus wants our lives to look like — advancing not a political kingdom (“my kingdom is not of this world”) but advancing a spiritual one that helps draw more souls to Christ through whatever witness we can.
We’ve heard a million sermons on that, so I won’t belabor the point there.
The bad is this.
Sometimes, it’s something I dread.
Oh, there are lots of times I’m thrilled to do whatever I can to help advance the kingdom, and even that phrase fills me with “Really, God? You’d use me? You’d be pleased to use me?” It’s really quite overwhelmingly humbling and a huge privilege if we think about it enough.
But often, again, it’s something I dread.
And here’s why.
We can’t get to be choosers on when we’re tasked with helping bring the kingdom. When you sign up for this, you’ve signed up for it.
If you’re locked in a fight with your spouse, you can’t put the whole “bring the kingdom” thing on pause.
“God, give me a minute, let me just get her/him agreeing with me and then I’ll get back to the kingdom thing.”
No, right there, in the middle of the fight, you’re supposed to advance the kingdom.
What does that look like?
Maybe something like stopping during the middle of it, saying “let’s pray about this,” and recalibrating, remembering James, remembering God doesn’t really care who’s right in this argument, only how it’s conducted.
I’m not exactly sure what it looks like, but I’m pretty sure I know what it doesn’t look like, and it’s the way most of us (including me) argue.
So again, I go back to that phrase: “Wherever Jesus went, the kingdom of God went.”
Put that someplace in your life that’s relevant and ask yourself what it means.
For me, right now, it’s not about arguing with my spouse.
For me, right now, it’s when my visceral distaste for something is looming and this phrase looms like a dark shadow, even though the sun of God’s kingdom is somewhere in it, and I pray that somehow, God will unlock it.
That’s the hospital.
I hate that place. I really do. Yeah, I know hospitals do wonderful work. But I hate going to that place because of my sickness.
I’ve been fighting a really, really bad flare and should probably have headed there a few days ago for IVs, CT’s and all that kind of thing.
But I’m just sick of going to that place, and I’m sick of being sick.
When I read that phrase “Wherever Jesus went, the kingdom went,” I’d much rather be the one visiting a patient there, to be honest. That’s how selfish I am. Viscerally, that’s how selfish I am. I’d rather be visiting a nameless patient as some kind of hospital ministry. (Not if the patient is a kid. That would change the equation entirely).
But I really hate going there.
I won’t go into all the reasons because I’m too tired to, but who likes going to the hospital as a patient? Especially, when you’re there every few months and never quite sure how long it will be, what you’ll have to go through, what kind of nurse you’ll get, what XYZ and many more alphabet letters.
Right now, my anger over this GI disease and the reality of “wherever Jesus went, the kingdom went” are colliding as I’m waiting to see whether I can actually hold down food, whether my vitals will stabilize, whether the pain will leave.
The fact is I’d much rather stay right here, inside, with my family, doing our thing and advancing the kingdom that way than being forced by this disease to go spread it somewhere where it might do someone something good.
I’m not saying it’s good to be sick. I’m saying that when sickness comes of any kind, and when we’re forced into a circumstance we hate, we’re not off the hook with trying to live up to the “wherever Jesus went, the kingdom went” thing.
No matter where we are, no matter how we’re there, we’ve got to keep Christ front and center or else we’ll wither.
Now here’s the thing.
Often, the thought of keeping Christ front and center is MISERABLE because we just want to wallow in our misery. It sounds easier. But the truth is that it will only make it worse.
Jacques Phillipe wrote that rejecting suffering adds to it.
And that’s true.
The sooner we accept it, the sooner we make peace with it, the sooner peace will start to flow into our suffering. At least that’s (mostly) my experience with the whole business.
When I first read Comer’s phrase, I made a note: “For hospital, also put on blog,” and never did it.
Why?
Because “life got in the way.” That’s often short for: “The life I wanted got in the way of doing something I should have.” In other words, there are lots of things I prioritized before writing this post. Not bad things, just things.
But now that I’m faced with this collision of the thing I hate with the thing I’m called to do, I’m writing it as a form of reminding myself that this is what I’m called to do.
And I’m writing it to tell you this — that if you’re reading this blog, it’s very likely that a) you’re a Christian and b) there are all kinds of depressing things that can make it so hard to live in the light of that sentence and by that command – to advance the kingdom wherever you go.
If that’s hard for you, I get it. It’s hard for me too.
If you feel like you’re this struggling Christian who’s surrounded by all kinds of shining examples of those who endure and do it with serenity, who are filled with the Spirit to the extent that fruit falls off their trees everywhere they walk, then I’m right there with you. (Not with the fruit-walkers).
If you feel like you’re lost and only holding onto Jesus because he’s the only one you know of to hold onto, I’m right there with you.
If you feel like you’re tired, so tired of the clouds of whatever you’re dealing with, I’m right there with you.
If you have blessing after blessing that you don’t appreciate the way you should, I’m right there with you.
If you don’t like suffering and you think, “C’mon, by now, I should have this thing sorted out,” then I’m right there with you.
If you have moments of doubt, of anger, of grief, of all of that, I’m right there with you.
But guess what’s more important.
Jesus is right there with you too.
He’s right here with me too.
Go to him. I’ll go to him too.
It’s in these moments, in these times, that we say “Who else has the words of eternal life?”
Others might scoff that it’s one giant cope. Maybe. This is a faith. But I’d rather stake my life on Christ than on anyone or anything else in life. By God’s grace and only by God’s grace, that won’t change.
So if you’re staking your life on him, remember to keep going to him, and when you do, beg, just as I’m begging, just as all Christians should be begging, “Lord, help me. Have mercy on me, and please Lord, help me advance your kingdom, because there’s nothing greater in life I can do. You gave me everything. Give me the strength to do just this something – no matter how small it is.”
And just to be honest – guess what? I finished the post with that prayer, and now I’m having a panic attack.
That’s the way it goes sometimes, right?
May God bless you – just as he has me. You and I have both been through dark nights. There will be many more. But there have also been remarkable moments where the sun has broken through. And if I’m honest, those days are more common than the dark ones.
The line between gratefulness and bitterness is very thin. At least for me.
If you’re depressed, or struggle with any aspect of mental health…
For readers from the United States….
Find a psychiatrist here.
Find a therapist here.
For readers, internationally, seek help from a local resource.
For salvation, Christ and Christ alone.
*PS. Because I’m having a panic attack, and am tired and sick too, I’m not taking time to put a pic with this post, and didn’t spell check or edit it. And sorry if it sounded selfish or whiny. But at the same time, yeah, I’m a selfish sinner who whines, hence I needed Jesus, I need him, and I always will need him).
