“…If you return to me and obey my commands, then even if your exiled people are at the farthest horizon, I will gather them from there and bring them to the place I have chosen…”
– NEHEMIAH 1:

I can recall a recent occurrence of that rarest of occasions — a Saturday without sunrise-to-sundown planned activities: no shuttling kids to and from birthday parties, no practices, no finding a lost shinguard, no buying something we didn’t need at Target, no trying to avoid a fast food lunch stop, and no forgetting that it was our turn to bring team snacks. Instead, we loaded our car with no real time constraint for a family outing.

As I got in, I looked at Amanda and said, “Do you have my phone?”

She looked back and said, “I don’t. I haven’t seen it.”

“It doesn’t really matter. We’re all together. Whoever needs to call me can wait,” I said confidently, swelling with a sense of paternal pride about abandoning my digital tether to the world.

Amanda smiled and we drove off.

When we finally arrived at the parking lot, the kids filed out, eager to stretch their legs. Amanda and I followed after them. As I came around to the rear of the car and reached to pull the handle on the tailgate, I saw something on the bumper that gave me pause. It was like a parent discovering that their own child had been unintentionally abandoned in the toy aisle at a department store: where a momentary distraction meets a tight timeline and a shopping list — poof! a kid vanishes and no one notices. With nothing wrong and with no signs of wear, I saw it there — that digital tether to the outside world, that thing I had so self-importantly left behind for the sake of my family — my phone. It was as if it had wandered off to sit on the bumper as a matter of its own will (Incidentally, this is what I tell myself when I lose things). I didn’t hear the phone ask permission to do so, it just did. Bad phone. “The little iPhone that could” had managed to take a ride from our house along busy freeways and side streets for about 15 miles, blissfully unaware that its final digitized transmission was more than imminent.

That phone belongs in the safety of my hands. Phones, in case you were unaware, do not belong on the exterior of cars-in-motion. Shocking, I know. There is a place for a phone — a right place. Yes, this phone did get a little uppity and wander off on its own. While I’d like to punish it — we know it deserves a good talking-to — most importantly, I just want it to be where it belongs.

That is the story of God revealed in the Bible. The Bible is, at minimum, the story of God returning things (people) who have wandered off to those unknowingly precarious places, to their rightful home, to the place where they belong — the place “[He] has chosen.” This week as we continue in our series: FAVOR with KINGS, we’ll align ourselves with that story of finding, recovering, and restoring that which is lost. And somehow, in the midst of it, we’ll get one step closer to living out the lives we were made for — lives of significance.

See you Sunday,

Jeff

P.S.: Each week, I get to meet people who are checking out Mariners MV for the first time. And, those first-timers are always so grateful you’ve invited them. Great job. This Sunday,  after the 5pm service, we’ll have $5/plate tacos along with a few activities on the patio to help us in getting our new service off the ground. It’s so great to see there is now new space available for you to continue to be the warm, inviting church you already are.

A few months ago, I got a postcard in the mail. It did not feature a picture of a sandy, tropical beach, nor an amusement park, nor an alpine sunset, there was no instantly recognizable national monument, and that ubiquitous hybrid creature that seems to populate every truck stop in America, the jack-a-lope, was nowhere to be found.  Of course, because almost no one sends postcards anymore, what does come in the mail of that approximate shape and size is almost always a coupon, an ad, or some kind of solicitation. This one, lacked the expensive colors and graphics of the typical postcard. It appeared to be different than the others in its simplicity. It did mean something very different for me. So, I posted it where all truly important things go, on the refrigerator.

Upon noticing the words written clearly on it, my daughter asked, “Dad, Who’s Judy Simmons?”
“I don’t know,” I responded. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s on the fridge.” She walked over to the plain rectangle and pointed at the card. “See, Judy Simmons.”
“Oh, that doesn’t say ‘Judy Simmons,’ it says, ‘JURY SUMMONS.’’’
After a puzzled pause she asked, “Who’s that?”

Needless to say, I reported for my civic duty, along with hundreds of other people —  all of whom were convinced they had better places to be and more important things to do. After a thrilling powerpoint presentation detailing all of what we were permitted and not permitted to do, a county employee, knowing the level of enthusiasm in the room, did his best to introduce one of the judges from the courthouse. He listed her qualifications. They were as impressive as they were numerous. At the end of his introduction that most definitely warranted a massive eruption of applause — silence. The whole angry mass of people were so undone about having to be there, that no judge, no person, nor contributor to the system that removed us from our ultra-important lives was worthy of any sound.

In the silence, she stepped forward to undertake a seemingly impossible task: to give us — this seething mob of reluctant but dutiful citizens — something we could not only not see, but barely fathom. Her task was to make this day full of long waiting spells, orderly walking, standing, and procedures matter. Said differently, this judge was tasked with bestowing upon us a measure of significance. She talked about growing up in a country where trial-by-jury was barely a dream. She spoke of pro-government military tribunals and the presumption of guilt — how the burden of innocence rested on the accused. She told us how we were the custodians of the Constitution, limiting the capacity of government from over-reaching its powers over the people over whom it presides. We were the ones who held the power. Neither the judge, nor the attorneys, nor the bailiffs, had the power to convict — to find guilt or innocence. That was ours, ours alone.

As she wrapped up her brief speech, folding a tidy notebook, and stepping down from the small stage, everyone erupted in applause. She had done the impossible. We believed, if only for a moment, that our civic duty was an essential part of what it means to be a citizen. And, though all of us would have rather been somewhere else, we could see why it mattered to be there. Now, where there once was only obligation, there was purpose.

This is the point of the next few weeks at Mariners MV. We’ll dive into the idea making our lives matter in our new series: FAVOR WITH KINGS. While so much of what we build our lives around can feel like a dutiful obligation — part of merely being a human citizen — there is another part of us longing to connect our lives with a greater purpose and meaning. In short, we’re searching for something universally sought after — significance.

Now that we’ve added a new service, you have room to do what you do so well — invite people to join you. Come on Sunday evening at 5pm. This week, after the 5pm service, we can chat about our good friend JUDY SIMMONS and the heartache she’s caused us (among other things) while we enjoy gourmet hotdogs and chips for $5 a plate from the DOGZILLA food truck.

See you Sunday,
Jeff

Help those who are ready to take the next steps to get off the street as we build relationships through games, dessert, and stories. More info here or search “homeless” on our website.

HOMELESS MINISTRY
Sat, Sep 17, 5:30-8p
Salvation Army (1710 W. Edinger)

Mothers of Preschoolers (children 0-5yrs, and expectant moms too) are invited to find encouragement, wisdom, new friendships, and a chance to sit down and drink hot coffee with adults. More info here.

MOPS FALL 2016
Fridays, Sep 23-Dec 9, 9-11:30a, Children’s Theater

Childcare help is needed. Contact Susan, shulse@marinerschurch.org

Discover the Blessings of serving in Children’s Ministries. Come and join the Children’s Team by serving at any of the three services: 9a, 11a or the 5p. Email Susan, shulse@marinerschurch.org

I’m reaching the end of an area of dad-knowledge. I can see it. There is a “horizon” for what I know. I think my oldest son is beginning to realize it, too. Where once I knew virtually everything (in the minds of my children, at least), I have begun to reach a plateau. When faced with the question: “Can you help me with my math?” I’ve never really thought, “Well, I’m not sure if I can.” Addition? Yes. Subtraction? Oh, I can talk to you about borrowing from the tens column like nobody’s business. Multiplication? Anything below the number 12 and I’ll make Mrs. Huntsberger, my 3rd grade teacher, proud. After 12, big numbers? Well, I’m a little rusty. Division? Sure. Mostly. Kind of. Ok. But, I can handle math.

Only now, as this year is underway, I’m finding that handling math is no longer a foregone conclusion. Credit my son with wanting to work at it with me. We spent about two hours last night going over a ton of it. In all of what falls into the category of  “I ought to know this,” I’m having to double check everything on a calculator. I’m watching YouTube clips and visiting tutorial websites to jog my own memory. Over the course of the time spent pouring over seemingly endless and unnecessary geometric proofs and a smattering of “solving for x” I could see something happening both within me and my son.

It was as if both of our minds needed a kind of old-timey crank start, like an early Ford Model-T. You’ve seen footage of this kind of thing: a driver has to stand in front of an old car, insert an elongated z-shaped wrench into a tiny hole in the hood and upon fastening it to the motor, start the engine by making a few energetic revolutions until the engine sparks to life. The math-machine was in its early, albeit rough, stages of warming up. But, it was going to get there. We were going to get there. We could feel it. Things were beginning to come together. What was initially a journey into a world of apparent nonsense, started to become something, a working system – actual math.

My faith-journey is not all that different. I allow a lot of stuff — good stuff — to go neglected and unattended over the course of time. In looking at this fall season, I have to clear away the rust that accompanies some lack of use, and machete the weeds of summer distraction to clear a pathway forward. My own attentiveness to God has grown a bit less acute than I’d like. I find that my ability to live with compassion and understanding is likewise somewhat lacking in their performance expectations. So, I need a jump start. I need to get things moving again — even if the initial stages are a bit effort-laden.

For us to become the people God intends us to be, we’ll have to consider there are very few great things that come about without some degree of effort. We’ll have to face the deeply introspective questions about what things have been abandoned in us (usually, at an imperceptibly slow pace) over the course of time and a thousand tiny “yes’s” to really good things. We’ll have to examine why good things possess a hidden tyranny over the things that matter most — the greatest things. And, what we’ll find is that we need outside help. We need someone to help us turn the crank, to tell us to stick with it, to remind us how things are supposed to work. We’ll need each other. We’ll need to re-up our life group. We’ll need to finally join a ROOTED group. We’ll need to work through all of our good excuses on the belief that there is a fuller, richer life and a journey of great adventure ahead if we could just get it started.

This Sunday, as we launch our first-ever 5pm service, it’ll be as great an opportunity as any to re-jumpstart our lives and give fresh energy and attention to the things that matter most. For a little extra motivation, we’ll provide free IN-N-OUT (5pm service only) to help in fueling that process.

See you Sunday,

Jeff

Join us for a night of community. Hear from Pastor Jeff Maguire and get connected in Rooted, Life Groups or Financial Peace University. To pre-register for any of these groups, click here or search “community” on our website.

COMMUNITY KICK-OFF
Wed, Sep 14, 6:30p
Worship Center

We want every student to have a place to belong and a person who cares about them, so we do Life Groups. Committed leaders who care about our jr. high students create a setting where they can build depth in their friendships, not only with each other, but with Jesus. We are looking for leaders to help guide our students on this journey.  For more information click here or to register as a volunteer click here.

JHM LIFE GROUP LEADERS
Wednesdays through May 31, 7-8:30p (with some breaks)
in homes throughout the community

Join us for a faith journey in Israel this November as our lead pastor Jeff Maguire and his wife Amanda lead us through this experience where we’ll hear from God while walking in the footsteps of Jesus. More info here.

Wed, Nov 9-Fri, Nov 18