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paid his check and walked to my car.

“You’re not finding his presence to be any more real for you than when we first talked, are you?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you’re still trying to make others do it, instead of living it yourself. It’s natural for us to deal with our own emptiness by trying to get others around us to change. That’s why so much body life today is built

around accountability and human effort. If we could just get everyone else to do what’s right, everything

would be better for us.”

“Wouldn’t it?”

“No, Jake! We’re not ever going to get it all right. People are going to mess up. Sorting out a relationship

with Jesus is a lifetime journey. The life of faith is struggle enough in a broken world without us

complicating it for other believers. Why do you think you weren’t there for Bob and now your pastor isn’t

there for you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because real body life isn’t built on accountability. It’s built on love. We’re to encourage each other in the

journey without conforming people to the standard we think they need.”

“That sounds like relativism, John!”

“It’s not, it simply respects the process God uses to bring people into truth. I’m not talking about different

things being true, for different people but about people discovering that truth in different time frames. If we

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hold people accountable, they will never learn to live in love. We’ll reward those who are better at putting

on a front and miss those who are in the real struggle of learning to live in Jesus.”

“I can’t even imagine sharing that kind of journey with others.”

“It’s the best, Jake! It opens the door for people to be authentic and known exactly for who they are. It

encourages them with drawing near to Jesus, not trying to fix everybody with our answers for the universe.”

“Where can I find that, John? Is there a place like that in Kingston?”

“Jake, you misunderstand. It is not a place, it’s a way of living alongside other believers. Are there others

who want to live this way? Sure. And you’ll find each other in time. But first, let it change you.”

I pulled up to the bus depot and stopped and John popped the handle on the door. “I’d better run, Jake, I’m

going to be late for the bus.”

“Can’t you give me a number where I can get a hold of you in case I need to talk?”

“That’s not as easy to do as you might think,” John said, stepping out of the car, closing the door. “I’ll find

you again, I’m sure of that,” he said, leaning back through the open window.

“I’m not.”

“Take care, Jake. You’re on the right path. It may get worse before it gets better, but it’s the same with

surgery. But when it does finally get better, it’s going to get really better!”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“I know. Getting to the end of ourselves is not the fun part. It’s just the first part. At that time, the closer we get the further we feel like we are from him. That’s why I want to encourage you to just keep hanging in

there with Jesus. He’ll sort all of this out in ways you’d never believe if I could tell you today.”

“Thanks, John. That helps.” As he turned to walk away, I suddenly remembered one thing I hadn’t asked

him. “Can’t you at least tell me your last name?”

The taxi honking behind me must have drowned out my request, because John walked through the doors

without turning back.

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- 5 -

Love With a Ho k

I came up here to get away from it all, but I ended up bringing it all with me. I don’t think a single minute of

my waking hours had been free of thoughts about what was going on back home. My emotions seethed

with frustration and anger that even this pristine setting could not soothe.

Nellie Lake is one of my favorite spots on earth. It lies in the high Sierras at the end of a five-mile trail that snakes almost straight up hill. They say in California if you hike 20 minutes from the road you lose 90% of

the fishermen. This is a two-and-a-half hour hike and I rarely see anyone else here even in the middle of

summer. This was early September and I had the whole lake to myself on this crisp afternoon.

It’s a small lake, but I’ve always caught plenty of good-sized rainbow trout here. What’s more, it’s the only

place where I’ve caught fish that actually act like the fish on the cover of those outdoor magazines. When

you hook them they leap straight out of the water in a desperate attempt to throw your hook and swim free.

Of course, I’m certain I love that action far more than the fish do.

Laurie had gone out of town to visit her parents for a week. On a whim and in a fit of frustration I decided to

pull our tent trailer up to Huntington Lake for a few days of personal retreat. I had already typed up my

resignation, but hid it in my desk until I could think things through.

I had taken to heart my last conversations with John and in the six months since I’d seen him, my

relationship with God had really begun to grow. I was more aware of his presence throughout the day. I

was just beginning to learn how to trust him more than my own efforts, when the church at home erupted in

conflict. Somehow I had lost sight of God in it all and found myself once again looking for John’s familiar

face in every crowd of people I passed. I had finally given up and decided to run away, if only for a few days.

For the past two hours I had perched myself on the south side of Nellie Lake and had fished with a

vengeance. Even though I had caught almost 20 fish and enjoyed reeling them to shore, such moments

provided only a momentary distraction to the greater pain that seethed in my gut. As soon as I would release

them and re-bait my hook I was right back fuming inside. I had seen some horrible conflicts during my

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years in real estate, but I’d never seen a group of people treat each other with such hostility and deceit while

working so hard to appear sweet and innocent.

“Idiots!” I exclaimed across the lake, exhaling some anger while my fishing line sat idle in the lake.

“I hope you’re not talking about me.” The familiar voice spilled off the hill behind me. Startled, I jumped

and whipped around. John, with a backpack over his shoulders was making his way down the hillside to

the lakeshore.

I almost tripped over my pole when I tried to lay it down and turn to greet him in one motion. “What are

you doing up here?”

“I come up here every year about this time for about two weeks just to hike in the high country and enjoy

some peace and quiet. I don’t often find people here, especially those I know.”

“Neither do I. That’s what I like about it,” I said.

“You want me to go?”

“Are you kidding?” He was the one person whose presence I’d welcome up here right now. He unclasped

his backpack and slid it off his shoulders, placing it against an old tree stump. Stretching his back he asked,

“Do you come up here often?”

“Not really. Once a year at most.” Suddenly my fishing pole started to quiver and fell off the log where I had

propped it. I grabbed it and started to reel in the line. What looked like an 18-inch rainbow broke through

the water leaping toward me. My line suddenly went limp as the hook popped out of his mouth. John and I

chuckled as I brought the line into shore and put the pole down. Fishing was now the farthest thing from

my mind.

“Another one goes free.” John said. Then sitting down on the log he asked, “So who are the idiots? The

fish?”

My face flushed as I recalled my outburst of a few seconds ago. “No, the fishing has been incredible. It’s the

people back home. You wouldn’t believe it, John. Everything has blown up in the past couple of weeks. It’s

brought out the worst in everyone.”

John interrupted me just as I started to get wound up. “Let’s start further back than that. How have you been

since our last conversation?”

It took me a moment to let go of all I wanted to tell him and focus back to our last meeting. “Actually, things

were going really well. I was starting to enjoy my relationship with God again, like I did when I first came to

know him. I stopped trying so hard to make something happen and he made himself visible to me in so

many ways. I began to see things about myself I’d never seen before, like how demanding I can be, and how

little I trust Jesus with the details of my life. But you know what? My failures didn’t seem to matter to him.

He just kept showing me how real he wanted to be in my life.”

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“That’s great! I know it is hard to believe, but enjoying that simple relationship will accomplish everything

God wants to do through you.”

“Well it doesn’t seem to be working so well right now. Everything is crashing in on me and I’m so angry all

the time that I scare my own wife.”

“Are you angry at her too?” John picked up my fishing rod as we talked.

“I don’t think so, but it sure comes out at her.”

“Are you mad at the pastor?”

“I try not to be, but he makes it impossible. I was actually doing pretty well with him since I stopped trying

to change him or force him into a relationship he no longer desires. But then this stupid concert blew up in

our face.”

“Have you told him how angry you are?” John asked as he cast the baitless hook out into the lake.

“Not yet! He’d fire me for sure and then where would I be? I’ve thought about resigning. I even have the

resignation letter typed up, but I want to line up another job before I do it. I gave up so much to work for this

guy and now look at the fix I’m in!” I blew out a deep sigh and shook my head. I could feel my blood

pressure pounding in my ears. “Now he wants me to lie for him.”

“About what?”

“Our youth director had planned a beginning-of-school concert two weeks ago as an outreach to high

school students. He’d lined up a group with a real gospel message who had done an anti-drug assembly the

day before at a local high school. He and the kids had passed out concert announcements over the

neighborhood. It drew quite a crowd but created an even larger crisis. Some of our older members,

meeting elsewhere in the facility, overheard the music and thought it sounded too worldly. When they came

to check out what was going on, they saw some of the girls wearing skimpy tops and guys dressed like gang

members. I think it scared them, but they’ve accused the youth pastor of defiling the sanctuary.

“Later we found some of the newly upholstered seats had been slashed with a knife and initials were carved

in some of the seat backs. Also some of our sound equipment is missing and there was graffiti in the men’s

restroom. We had about $3500 in damage and they want someone’s head on a platter. Some parents

heard that some of the kids had alcohol and were smoking outside in the parking lot after the concert.”

“Outreach can get messy,” John offered, still looking at the line laying motionless on the surface.

“It was even messier afterward. Some people really got angry when they heard what happened. You should

have heard the battle cries down there: ‘We have enough of this on TV; we don’t need to bring it into the

church.’ ‘Why are we trying to save everyone else’s kids when we’re losing our own.’ ‘The whole place was

filled with hoodlums.’”

“Which would be a real plus if the goal was outreach.”

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“I guess that’s what is becoming clear to me. It’s amazing how people on both sides of this issue have turned

on each other with such anger.”

“If I remember right, doesn’t your marquee out front promise Where Love is a Way of Life!”

It took me a moment to even remember what he was talking about. “It’s been up there so long, I don’t think

anyone even pays attention to it anymore.”

“Obviously.” John let out a chuckle.

“You find it funny?” I snapped not seeing the humor in any of this.

“I’d say more ironic than funny, but that’s the problem with institutions isn’t it? The institution provides

something more important than simply loving each other in the same way we’ve been loved. Once you

build an institution together you have to protect it and its assets to be good stewards. It confuses everything.

Even love gets redefined as that which protects the institution and unloving as that which does not. It will

turn some of the nicest people in the world into raging maniacs and they never stop to think that all the

name-calling and accusations are the opposite of love.”

Then as John reeled in the empty hook he held it up, “It’s love with a hook. If you do what we want, we

reward you. If not we punish you. It doesn’t turn out to be about love at all. We give our affection only to

those who serve our interests and withhold it from those who do not.”

“What a mess!”

“Do you see how painful it is? That’s why institutions can only reflect God’s love as long as those in it agree

on what they’re doing. Every difference of opinion becomes a contest for power.”

“That’s for sure. And it seems to hold on longer than the conflict itself deserves. People are angry at each

other. I’ve been called names I’d never heard in real estate. People are still complaining about the