Patios and Pulpits
It had been a dozen weeks or so since my last surgery. Home for months, tethered between the bedroom and the bathtub, doctors said the surgery was a success, and I had been given permission to get out. The first thing I wanted to do was to see a movie. Batman: The Dark Knight Rises had just hit theaters, so whatever else was playing that weekend stood no chance.
Tickets in hand, we found our seats. I was immediately swept away into the world of Bruce Wayne, his inner demons, his mission, his brokenness (physically and spiritually), the prison, the cell, and the attempts of climbing and clawing his way out of it. Failure upon failure upon failure. Until he did it.
But it wasn’t his superhuman strength that got him out of that pit. After all, Batman has no super powers. It wasn’t his skill as a climber or his physical strength. After all, he had broken his back and was weakened by months of atrophy and isolation.
BY FAITH ALONE
Well, I will unashamedly ruin this movie for you, but one of his fellow inmates whispered through the bars. As Bruce sits leaning against his cell wall, the fellow lifer told Bruce that he would have to make the climb to freedom without a safety net. He would have to make his way up and out by faith alone. He was going to have to let the fear inside him to allow him to become the best version of Bruce Wayne possible. The only way to make the climb would be without the rope.
The next day he cleaned his bunk. He folded his belongings into a tight roll and packed for his journey. A few laughs and scoffs from unbelievers bounced off of Bruce Wayne like a pebble against an aircraft carrier. Giving allowance for the doubting, he just nodded behind a confident but humble grin.
Denying the tether as he approached the unscalable wall, Bruce noticed that the other inmates were slowly chanting something he didn’t understand. It was in a language he couldn’t quite make out, so with his neck craned and eyes toward the hole in the sky, he asked, “What are they saying?” To which his skeptical cell mate replied, “Rise.”
OTHERS FIRST
Some would argue that the climb was the most compelling scene in the entire trilogy, and I wouldn’t be too far away from that opinion. But it was what Bruce did when he finally reached the surface that hit me as I sat in that theatre. If you blinked you’d missed it. As he stood on solid ground above, he threw the securely anchored rope down into the prison so that others could breath again.
I was a mess. In a flood of tears, with a new neck, back and a reconstructed and functioning colon, I sat and watched the credits roll as my brain did the same. I knew that if God healed me and allowed me to be free again to write and speak and live and move and breath, I was going to help others do the same. That’s why I called our conference PrayFit RISE. True story. What got Bruce Wayne out of his pit was the only thing that got me out of mine. Grace.
SOMETHING TELLS ME
I was reminded of that scene recently as we’ve all been at home, staying safe and obedient to what is best for our fellow neighbors and loved ones. I have been increasingly encouraged by Pastor Shawn Thornton of Calvary Community Church and other pastors around the world that keep leading and guiding their flocks. Patios have become pulpits and couches have turned into pews. Louie Giglio said recently, “The church has left the building.” Indeed it has.
And one day, maybe in the coming days or weeks and even months, the Church will leave again. The Church - the Body - will hear a whisper from the Lord and news from experts. It will be time to leave. Time to trust. Time to put faith to work outside the walls and beyond the computers. The hands and feet of Jesus will again touch faces and hug the necks of friends and strangers. And something tells that the Body will do so with a renewed sense of purpose; a purpose that is higher than any process. Something tells me we will take less for granted and we will take more advantage of opportunities. Something tells me that once we return to the building, it may seem a little small. It may feel a little confined. Something tells me the church building was never really meant to hold us.
- Jimmy Peña
We Will.
We will roll up our belongings. We will pack our lunch boxes. We will put on ties. Briefcases will wait at front doors. Gym lights will flicker, schools buses will roll and storefronts will read, “OPEN.” For our little corner of the world, we will emerge as a fitness industry to serve those impacted by special needs and disabilities. We will need each other. Join me please.
