Looking through windows

I had just filled the car with gas and squeegeed the windshield to a pristine shine. Moving on with my errands, I soon merged onto the highway. I was building speed, when suddenly a huge bug struck my windshield, smearing itself right across my eyeline to the left. Murphy’s law strikes again, I thought. Of course, my wiper fluid was empty, so rather than fixate on the goopy mess, I just tried to look beyond it and carry on.

This week held some wonderful memories as a collection of staff from the Vineyard Cincinnati gathered from 80’s & 90’s to remember what God had done in those early years. Of course, not everyone was represented, but those that were marveled at being swept along in a move of God. The growth, the impact, the fun, the challenges were all real, and not a single one of us could take credit for any of it. God had intended a grace for this city and collected the most unlikely grouping of people to run the first leg of the race, and sprint we did. I remember the joke was that one year on staff at Vineyard Community Church was like 5 years anywhere else. Let the reader understand that the highs and lows were intense.

Over time, transitions happened in various ways, and things carried on. Now, as the last founding member had retired and was returning to CA, there was a want to come together, remember and perhaps pass the baton forward, if possible. It seemed like a fitting way to finally mark those remarkable years.

There were several days of gathering; one was a baton-passing service with a group of younger church planters who had been invited, where we worshipped, singing favorites both old and new. One pastor shared a powerful illustration from the world of track and field. Being a track man in high school and college, I immediately understood his point. In a 4X100 relay there’s an exchange zone, a transition space, where relay teams pass their batons. If you are too early or late, missing the exchange zone, you are disqualified. If you drop the baton, your race is finished. The race is often won or lost in the exchange zones. As I think back on those early years, I wondered if our exchanges hadn’t been a little clunky at times, but this was a perfect metaphor for a group of younger church planters. 

How the privilege came to me, I’m not sure, as there were others more senior and seasoned in the room, but I stood to share a few thoughts and then invited all the church planters to join me up front. I declared the space where we stood to be the “exchange zone”, and invited the rest of us, those who had been part of what God had done in those early years, to lay hands upon the younger and impart the gift of grace to continue the race well. It was a meaningful moment as the Holy Spirit met us, and personal ministry lingered.

The next evening over dinner, we older folks laughed and told stories till the stars came up. Each reminiscing, with their own take, of the times when God moved powerfully in the Vineyard. It was great, a gathering that probably won’t be repeated. I could have listened all night. But 30 years of life had smashed a lot of bugs on different windshields, too. The smudges in peoples’ lives were real. I wished differently for some but, then as now, God uses the weak and broken to shame the strong and able. I guess we’re always a work in process. 

For a few hours I was transported back into relationships that saw hundreds giving their lives to Jesus, thousands of people filling celebrations and thousands more serving in Jesus’ name all over the region. We saw the birthing of what now is called “Servant Evangelism” and we hardly realized it. Hindsight is 20/20.

The overarching sentiment was one of gratefulness, grateful to be included in a story the Lord is telling in our city. Grateful to see old friends, grateful to be able to look through time and see what really mattered. 

I drove for several days with that bug splat at eye level. Helped not at all by the opaque streak that the wipers produced. Looking beyond the smudges helped. In fact, I sort of forgot about it as I drove around. But each time I got back in the car, it was all I could see. Looking beyond was how I coped, initially. A few days later I topped off the tank and gave it a proper squeegee again, appreciating the clear view.

From time-to-time God provides a window to look through and invites you to remember. Sometimes He invites you to look through and look beyond. What we choose to focus on is up to us.