Take two.  What's the point in this blog?  I've been preaching for twenty-two years, so maybe it's just habit - this need to process life within a larger, deeper, more questioning context.  Each week for all these years, I've had to work to connect my story with an older story - one that connects us to each other and to the sacred, wherever that is found.  In fact, it was that work of examination that led me to leave my last position.  As I sought the vision of God for our tiny church group, and as I dug ever more deeply into the Bible for its challenge and its promise, I felt increasingly compelled by the foolishness of Jesus who truly seemed to believe that to give up everything was the simplest path to discovering the only thing of importance.  It whet my imagination and fired up my spirit.  Christians have been trying to enter the alternative reality proclaimed by Christ for thousands of years, but the world looks much the same.  Why?  Because for the most part, they try to be safe Christians which is pretty much of a oxymoron - how safe can it possibly be to follow the teachings of a man who died on a cross?  Nonetheless, his followers seem more inspired to build church buildings and endowments than they do to live the adventure he invites us to share.  I left my job because of a story in Luke about a rich ruler who asks Jesus what he needs to do to experience the kingdom of God and Jesus tells him - give away everything you own and come follow me.  The story tells us that the man went away sad because he had many possessions.  He left, disheartened, before hearing the promise: "there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not get back very much more in this age, and in the age to come."  By letting go of all those things that we believe give our lives meaning and security and love, we enter into God's kingdom where we discover deeper meaning, eternal security and an endless abundance of love.  For my little church group, I believed we were being called to release the nearly 2 million dollars they hold in trust, to seed ministries in the community where they felt called to be.  I believed that in emptying our bank account into service projects, we would not only better serve the neighborhood, but better serve our souls.  We would cease to depend on a bank account for our future, and be forced to rely only on God.  This sounds more sacrificial than it is for me - it is more a matter of wanting to clear the plate of leftovers so we can indulge in the promised buffet.  I was literally dying of curiosity to know how the promise of abundance would unfold if we just trusted God enough to let go of that which owned us.  The church didn't share my curiosity.  Nor, perhaps, my interpretation of Scripture.  For them it seemed that giving away their money would be giving away their identity - without it, they would cease to exist.  And there was truth to that.  Just as there is truth that death must precede resurrection.  But, what an encore!  

   So, after failing to inflame my "flock" toward joy (though I did a fabulous job of inflaming some of them in the other direction...), I couldn't stay.  I couldn't put my curiosity back in a box until we figured out some safe and reasonable form of ministry to pursue.  I couldn't un-detect my hearing of Jesus' sorrow as the rich ruler walked away, instead of trusting in the ability of God to transform loss into abundant gain.   I couldn't settle for less than a full commitment to foolishness.  

   Thus, the leap of faith.  The darkness of just a few days ago has cleared somewhat as my husband and I find ourselves back on the same page.  We've taken turns freaking out, and our spirits are better for it.  As Christmas approaches, I see the story begin again, and my curiosity lures me on.