There’s a nice guy in our congregation who likes to fly—so much so that he bought himself a plane. He has one of those “life and death” kind of jobs that probably pays well enough, but also takes a toll. The pressure and tension of every ordinary day can take your breath away.
And so, he flies. Somehow, soaring into the heavens—well, okay, cruising anyway between 1,000 and 9,000 feet—soothes the soul and recharges the batteries. On beautiful, clear, and calm days, few things could be more, well, heavenly.
Last week he invited me to fly, too. I rode “shotgun” (as my sons like to say), peering over the instrument panel and gawking at the blue sky. I also spent a fair amount of time staring at the ground below, too. There is more than just quiet and an expansive view up there, there’s also a unique perspective.
In a glance, I saw all of Anderson. The spatial relationships of familiar streets and buildings fit together quite differently when seen from above than they do when observed driving below. We flew low enough to capture the cars—and even cows—that dot the landscape of Madison County. Rooftops. Trees. Ponds. Swimming pools. Driveways with basketball goals. The race track. The university. Schools. Churches. Everything. Under a bright afternoon sun.
It was our new facility at Madison Park that really stood out for me, though. As the plane banked to the right, I could see the long ribbon of I-69 moving from Indianapolis toward Muncie. The volume of traffic, the life and energy, the constant, unbroken movement that is the interstate’s signature was riveting. It clearly is the artery from which our whole country draws its lifeblood these days.
And there, where I-69 gives entrance to Anderson’s retail and commercial core at exit 26, stood our new facility at Madison Park. The sprawling campus, parking lots, roadways, and broad sidewalks (being paved even as we flew over) wereastonishing. I gasped at the strategic placement of our new ministry center, as seen from above. I’ve driven by it on the ground a gazillion times, I’ve talked about “the strategic intersection” a thousand times, but suddenly, in a way I had not imagined, I realized—I saw with my own eyes—that Madison Park sits “smack dab” in the middle of this community’s present and future.
If you don’t believe me, check it out for yourself from above. Look at the ribbons of traffic, where they move, where they converge, where people are going. And, you’ll see what I saw: the future at Madison Park. As a wise sage once told me, “It’s not how far you are from someplace that matters, it’s how far you are from the interstate that matters.” Well, we’re there.
Why does that matter? Because an important dimension of church life is its impact on the world that surrounds it. Salt and light. Influence. The ability to see and be seen. Of course, the first century church found itself preaching in temple squares, meeting in homes, and sometimes scattered by persecution—and it thrived. But, it always seized opportunity to strategically place its voice in the middle of things, so far as it was able.
It was convenient for Paul to preach in the heart of Ephesus—or to sail for Macedonia—or find his way to Rome, for that matter. But, the first century believers always found their way to the center of things. We are, in this day and age, doing the same, too.
Just plopping a new building in a visible location won’t do it, though. Ultimately, it’s the life we bring to the place that will make the difference.
That’s why we’re aligning our ministries on a new continuum: Connect. Grow. Serve. Madison Park is all about helping people connect to God and to each other. And then, helping them to grow in those relationships. And, then to help everyone find a place to serve, for Jesus’ sake.
Whether you’ve been a part of our church family for years—or are just finding your way—we’re excited to invite everyone to Join the Journey at Madison Park, to: connect, grow, and serve.
Flying above Madison Park helped me put it all in perspective. In a moment, in one sweeping glance, thousands and thousands of people, thousands and thousands of individual stories, hopes, dreams, and fears, swirled around the place we will call our church home. It’s a bit like what Heaven sees all of the time, I suppose. I’m so thankful for a friend who helped me see it just once. And, even more, I’m so thankful for the privilege of being a part of it, right here, right now.
June 17. One service at 10:00am. Unforgetable. At Madison Park. Don’t miss it. Bring a friend. Connect. Grow. Serve.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
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