I was thinking the other afternoon about the number of times that people around me wonder what God wants them to do. And I thought, “Maybe we should be thinking about how to do the things that we are already doing.”

I was thinking that we often spend time wondering where God wants us to go. And I thought, “Maybe we should be thinking about how to live where I am.”

I was thinking that we often ask God who he wants us to talk to. I thought, “Maybe we should be thinking about how to talk to the people we already know.”

I thought about all the times that Jesus talked about loving each other, and the implication is not that we spend lots of time going and looking for new “each others” to love, but that we look at the people we are already with, the people that we are stuck with, and that we love them. (If that sentence was too complicated, try this:  love the ones you’re with.)

I thought about Paul talking about learning to be content and Jesus talking about not worrying. I thought about how often Paul seems to be talking about how to live wherever you are living, and how to live whatever you are doing and how to live with whoever and how to live whenever you are living.

Here’s what I’m wondering.

I’m wondering if God calls us to live adverbial lives: to live compassionately and kindly and humbly and gently and patiently and forgivingly and lovingly and peacefully and thankfully and wisely and songfully. That’s what Paul lists right before saying this:

And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Sometimes I ask questions before I know the answer.

I was working on a study guide for a couple groups I work with. I wrote the question in the title of this post. And then I started my answer.

• Pen. Sharpie.
• Blank paper.

And then I had to take my answer apart.

When I was asking the question, I wasn’t thinking about following like sitting and taking notes. I was thinking more about what tools I would take if I was going to follow along and work with Jesus.

I mean, some people would grab a toolbelt. They’d check for their hammer, make sure the pliers were in the little pouch for pliers, that there were screwdrivers in the appropriate loops. For those people, following looks like fixing walls that hurricanes have blasted through.

Some people would grab brown paper bags and clear baggies. They would check the shelves for knives and peanut butter and loaves of bread. For those people, following looks like feeding people just like Jesus did.

Some people would make sure they had their pneumatic wrench and floor jack for fixing the cars of single moms not getting child support who can’t afford rent let alone car repairs. For those people, following looks like caring for widows and orphans.

Some people, on their way out the door, would grab a briefcase of scrapbooking paper or a set of Bible commentaries or a handful of crayons or a calculator. Sympathy cards and sermons and crafts with kids and responsible church finances all matter.

The other day I started helping a guy think through college choices. I almost wrote on the wall with the marker in my pocket, outlining options. Instead, I dragged him to my office.

So, what’s in your pack, as you head off, following Jesus?

My writing grows, in part, out of my life. As a result, it often reveals more of the condition of my heart than I intend. I write what’s fresh in my reading and thinking. I write a day at a time.

I am inside my head, living on the ground. Those of you outside my head are often able to be more objective about what is happening to me. You are able to see patterns.

It happened again last week. A friend pointed out a pattern in my writing, a pattern in my heart. I hadn’t seen it yet, not clearly. I had glimpses, of course, but I hadn’t linked the pieces together.

And once he pointed out this pattern, I was able to tie it back to a realization and to a decision. And I saw a little bit of progress in my heart.

The writer of Hebrews says,

“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”

Lots of people use that as support for going to church services. “See?” the argument goes. “We are supposed to be in church every time the doors open and if we aren’t, we’re going against what the Bible says.”

The text seems to be less about Sunday morning worship services and more about relationships. The kind of relationships with other people following Jesus that will poke and prod and reveal and comfort and challenge and affirm. The kind of relationships that come from regular open-hearted interaction. The friend that pointed out the pattern helped me more than he knows. Til now, of course.

I know that technically it is fall. At least in the northern hemisphere.

I know that it is almost the end of September, the end of the first three-quarters of 2010.

I know that there is a huge amount left undone so far this year.

I know that there are many things that can still be done this year.

I know that years are irrelevant by themselves, but they serve as markers, as external evidence that time is passing.

I know that I can talk at length about paring activities, about resting, about trusting, but that until I do it, all the talking about it is irrelevant. I know that is part of what James meant when he said, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.”

I know that to say, “That was a great sermon yesterday” or even to have preached that sermon or taught that lesson is all very nice, but unless it connects to some action of some sort (other than looking for some other sermon or teaching another lesson), the comment or the teaching isn’t terribly worthwhile.

I know that the response to the list of things that I know is not to say, “I will buckle down and do even more.”

Actually, I know that is one response.

However, I know that a far more effective response is to say, “So God. It’s Monday. Can I go to work with you today? Because I’ve heard that it’s ‘take your child to work’ day. Somewhere it has to be.” And I’d way rather go to work with you than go anywhere else without you. And I’m tired of coming up with the “Make God Happy” to-do list. I keep missing. So can I please work with you?”

Thank you.