In a quest to find new places to walk, I tried out the paths at a park on the Western side of Bradenton (which is a town south of Tampa) called the Robinson Preserve. The Robinson family had farmland out there long before the snowbirds flocked to the area, and in the early 2000’s donated some 500 acres to Manatee County. It was abandoned farmland overtaken by invasive vegetation. The County turned its energy towards restoration of native wetlands, and today the mangroves, salt marshes and tidal creeks have gone crazy; there are mullet jumping in glee in each body of water I saw. The restoration success was remarkable.

               I’m writing this because there I saw the alternative to a rant I wrote a couple of months ago here about the welcome sign at another (much smaller) park up in Dania (where I walk as well). There, you may remember, a pole with a bunch of emblems greets the walker. It has a bunch of don’ts posted on it in the form of some figure with a crossed-out circle on it. No bikes, no walking off path, no drones, no taking things, no…. Just a bunch of don’ts. And even though all you’ve brought are tennis shoes and a hat, you almost feel like you shouldn’t be there. I complained that this can be the way people feel about Christianity generally, and about a local church in particular, when we’re all about the rules, and the rules focus on the negative.

               So, at the Robinson Preserve I didn’t see this collage of red, black, and white signs. Instead, the slender posts there comprised a stack of brown signs, little announcements of what you can do. A watchtower you can climb, a bicycle, a hiker, a fish and a hook, a picnic table, and a shelter. It also gave a mile marker number on it. This made for a much more welcoming sign. I wanted to climb the tower, walk the trails, see the water where maybe others fished.

               And as I walked, I thought that this too is a better way to think of our church, and of our faith. That the Bible is not a set of rules so much as a long list of things that you can do to enrich your life. That the church, this church, is a place where you can do a long list of things. This is a place where you can sing as much as you want. Pray as much as you want. Serve as much as you want. Visit with fellow pilgrims. Eat (often donuts in the morning, sometimes ice cream after church, or lunch on Saturdays, or a snack at MECE, or peppermints if you come to my office, the list goes on.)  You can learn the Scriptures, go to Sunday School in its different age iterations. Some people play instruments, some sing in a choir. The list here would fill a fence-worth of those poles in the public parks.

               I think Jesus intended this kind of thinking. When accused of breaking the law, He didn’t say that He came to abolish the law, but rather to fulfill it and focus on a better way. The better way was a liberating way of seeing the positive, of seeing how to not just avoid hurting others, but focusing on how to love them and make their lives better. To not just try to avoid angering God, but instead to develop a delightful relationship with Him. The paths in both parks that I’m comparing here were great, but the emphasis at each of the parks was quite different. One was clearly better, and I think illustrative of the way Christ would have us be as individuals, as churches, as a people called Christians. Let’s focus on what we can do, not what we can’t.

Learning to know God and love people,

Craig

But now, by dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code. Romans 7:6 (NIV)