"Rhythmus," he said, with that familiar whimsical look--the one he got whenever a cheeky or brilliant idea was starting to take shape in his head.
I stared at him blankly.
"Rhythmus," he said again. "It's the spiritual rhythm that binds our community here. We don't do the traditional church model, but we still have this rhythm that keeps our group together. It's a rhythm that keeps us eating together, praying together and studying the Word together."
His words were starting to make a bit of sense, but I wondered if the mix of English and German I've had to function with had affected my ability to understand simple English as Kelley, Aaron and I sat at the dining table trying to piece together the website for the XZBerlin community.
Never mind that I had seen it lived out amongst the team members. That kind of taking care of one another, that intentional fellowship and study... I didn't fully understand the rhythm.
Then one day a few weeks back, I got an e-mail from Joe. Joe and I are better friends on Twitter than e-mail, so I was slightly surprised to get an e-mail from him. He mentioned something about Lent, the journey in the wilderness, the desert experiences, and finding sabbath and a spiritual rhythm.
It was an invitation to a group of friends--a community scattered across the US and here in Auckland--to join in a spiritual rhythm where we, and anyone else whom we knew were keen to join, prayed together, morning and evening, for Kingdom come, for ourselves and for each other. These weren't meant to be intense spiritual times as much as rhythm markers for the day. So we all, scattered across three time zones around the globe, prayed together at 7:30am and 6pm each day wherever we were.
The first day, as I started saying the words, "Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name..." I was swept back to that Blue Church in Berlin, where together we chorused the words in German.
Suddenly I became aware that "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done," meant something far bigger than the simple words I was whispering in my bedroom in Auckland. Because friends in Indiana, Michigan, Ohio and Oklahoma were whispering these same words. The same words people in Germany and all around the world had been whispering throughout ages past. The same words that were whispered at the Pasifika festival only a few weeks later.
Suddenly Rhythmus became much bigger than that website discussion around the Philips' dining table in Berlin.
Suddenly Rhythmus included the friends that sent me the delightful care package only a few months ago when I was in desperate need for a sabbath, without realising I had a sabbath trip planned.
Suddenly Rhythmus included a global family whispering the words together, "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done."
This past week has been one of the more emotionally exhausting ones. There were a couple of very victorious moments, peppered with a couple of very heartbreaking ones, with a side of an answered prayer and one of the most unexpectedly difficult and painful conversations I've had to have in a while.
When it started, I found myself leaning into the prayers of this scattered community, holding on to "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done" like never before.
And then in the middle of it all, I was reminded of promises I made when I first started this chapter in Auckland, and the peace that carried me through because I kept my promises.
And then in the middle of what was about to turn out to be another very difficult day, I heard the words again, "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done"--and from a voice I least expected.
Most who read this blog know that I prefer to let my thoughts simmer for a while before I paint them on the screen so they don't come out ill-intentioned, hurtful or in manners I regret later. Part 2 of this Rhythmus series had been simmering for a while, and I had hoped for a beautiful, happy-ever-after type of ra-ra, celebrate the Rhythm hype.
But tonight, it's 11:44pm as I write this--later than my usual bedtime since I started the 7:30ams. And there's no beautiful, happy-ever-after type of ra-ra hype. Instead, there are tears of release, a very raw sense of pain, and a deep peace and hope in holding on to "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done."
This Lent, I've journeyed the wilderness through some oasis and some very dusty, thorny roads. I've endured the 6:30am alarms, snoozing a bagillion times so I can finally be awake to pray at 7:30am. I've wondered if I was the right person to have gotten thrown into some of the sandstorms because I never felt strong enough. I've learnt to lean into a community that is scattered like the Israelites in exile, and feeling the whispered prayers as we walked our own wilderness in this bigger rhythmus of "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done."
The dust of the wilderness will settle, and we will usher in the coming King with our Hosannas--the King whose Kingdom will reign forever and these seasons of wilderness and exile will be no more. But until then, I will lean into "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done," and the hopeful glimpses of Easter and the empty tomb.
In case you're interested in joining in the spiritual rhythm, here's what it looks like:
At 2 times each day (7:30 a.m. and 6:00 p.m.), everyone involved would commit to the following:
1. Praying the Lord's Prayer (Matthew 6:9-13)
2. Praying the Jesus Creed (Mark 12:29–31)
3. Praying briefly for the people who they know who are involved
4a. In the morning, praying that God would keep them from evil and temptation and thanking God for his provision.
4b. In the evening, confessing any areas where they recall that they sinned and thanking God for his forgiveness.
We are encouraging people to invite others along and don't expect that everyone will even know of all the people who are involved. But the idea is to stay connected to something bigger, so please let me know (by simply leaving your name in the comments below--and location, if you've stumbled upon this space by accident) if you'd like to be a part so I can include you as I pray.
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