An Epiphany at the Feet of Jesus

On Tuesday of next week, a team from CrossBridge will travel to Tegucagalpa, Honduras for its annual mission trip to that region. Unlike the past several years, and due to a conflicting schedule, I will not be able to make the trip this year. As I've been reflecting on this trip, though, I remember an epipahny I had last year while working among the poor in this region.
 
We stayed at a hotel on the foot of a beautiful mountain on whose summit stood a 60 meter high statue of Jesus. With arms outstretched, it appeared as if Jesus were blessing and protecting the large city--exactly the intent of its Catholic architects. In past years, I always saw this statue, but the frenetic nature of the trip never allowed for an excursion up to this moving sight.
 
Last year was different. Our group, on Sunday evening, made our way to the sight of the "Big Jesus" as I affectionately referred to it. As we made the drive up the precariously, twisting roads to this sight, I became increasingly excited, almost nervous. I realize that I wasn't going to encounter the "real thing," but the place seemed to be holy nonetheless.
 
When we arrived at the entrance to the sight, I hurried off the bus and headed down the trail. The group that followed thought I knew where I was going--I really didn't. Just like in the states, a "real man" doesn't ask for directions! We came to a fork in the road. No signs. I couldn't see Jesus. Since the trail to the left continued uphill, I assumed that was the way to go, and off I went. I made it only a few yards down the trail when Steve Wilson, a great friend and member at CrossBridge, spotted Jesus in the direction of the opposite trail. Much to the delight of the crowd, Steve remarked: "Now isn't that just like a preacher, leading us away from Jesus." Yeah, a lot of truth to that light-hearted remark.
 
While that remark itself truly was a convicting truth that pricked my heart, what happened next embedded that nail deeply into my soul. Once we arrived at the foot of Jesus, the entire area was surrounded by a large stone wall that stood about 8 feet high. Embedded in the wall were iron gates. All of them were locked. I then remarked out loud, "Now that's a stunning metaphor of religion. Jesus calls with outstretched arms, 'Come to me,' but us good religious folk build walls around him--and serve as gate keepers to those who wearily come to him."
 
That's when I had the epiphany, and I nearly wept. I began to realize that Christians often do place barriers around Jesus. How we "do church" becomes more important than an encounter with the living Christ. I wondered that day how many of those stones have I placed alongside all my other, well-intentioned Christians from various traditions. I resolved at that moment to turn from worshipping at the shrines Church externals, and fall at the feet of Jesus. I further resolved to redefine my ministry. Rather than serving as the one to allow passage into Jesus presence through my theologically-constructed gates, I want to usher them authentically into the presence of the only One Who can save. Since last year I've learned that the transformation of people's lives occurs, not at the gate, but at his feet. Once there, the very goal of relgion--transformed lives--becomes a reality. "Oh Lord Jesus, give us all the grace to stay out of your way in people's lives, and grant us eyes to see your holy work in hearts...even when it doesn't conform to our religious protocol. And begin with me!"
 
By the way, we did make it to Jesus' feet that night. A well-worn path around the wall led to an opening through which many found access to Jesus. (I'm still not sure it was sanctioned, but we went through anyway). Another epiphany, people who want to get to the Lord will find a path, circumventing our well-thought out, protocols of religious traditions. Reminds of the story when the blind man, because he encountered and accepted Jesus, lost his access to the community (John 9). God save us from this spirit religious spirit!