We climbed the polished wooden stairs, crossed the tiled bridgeway that connected the buildings, turned a corner and descended a second steeper staircase. At the bottom we walked through a doorway and into the large beer hall full of small tables and plastic chairs anchored by the longyi clad, chain-smoking patrons congregated there. Passing through the beer hall we stopped at the front desk for a brief debate about my passport. A misunderstanding.
Out front in the helter-skelter parking area I was pointed toward a black motorbike. I waited for John to position himself and climbed on behind him. I gave him slight tap on the shoulder and we headed out. We travelled down the main road through the small city, past small shops and street vendors. John drifted left into the oncoming lane, onto the shoulder of the road and then turned left down a dusty gravel road. Just before that road came to an end, we made a right onto an even gravellier gravel road. John bobbed and weaved around the mud ruts and eventually pulled to a stop.
“This is it,” he said as he pointed to a two-story wood and concrete house in front of us.
The house sits on the outer edge of the city. It’s away from the center of community life. Isolated. It is a church building, although it looks nothing like a church building. There are no crosses or steeples. There is nothing architecturally to indicate it is a place of worship. It is built like a house and looks like a house. That is intentional and imposed. The local authorities would not allow a church building to be built. Therefore, they built a house in which the church meets. The believers are outsiders. Rejected by their community, they live under a constant cloud of suspicion and contempt.
The writer of Hebrews sees a relevant application in the location of Christ’s crucifixion outside the walls of the City of Jerusalem. He exhorts us to “go to him outside the camp and bear the reproach he endured.” For the Christian there is real identification with Christ and the cross in, as Hebrews puts it, “bearing the reproach he endured.”
The temptation is to go back inside the camp, to acquiesce to the values and morals of our fellow citizens, to live so as to be accepted and acceptable – a more respectable life. It does appear to be an easier and less painful path. The security of the kingdoms of this world is an illusion and deception. C.S. Lewis once said something like, “Don’t build your nest here. The whole forest is condemned to be burned.”
We, the followers of Christ, are looking for a city whose builder and maker is God. At least that is what we are supposed to be doing. In the mean time we should be going to Christ outside the camp, entering into the fellowship of his suffering, bearing his shame. In the West we have largely seen that as an option for the super-spiritual. Those days are passing away and may already be past. We are returning the normal state of affairs in this world.
Now the Camp and the Cross are both calling our names. To which will we go?
Out of the Miry Blog 