Bigger is not always better. Bigger churches bring with them bigger budgets and bigger programs and bigger overhead and bigger staff needs.  And with it comes bigger headaches and especially a bigger disconnect between leadership and the people who they serve.

"We do magic tricks," says Ken Loyd, that white-haired pirate of a preacher who loves on the homeless men and women of Portland, Oregon. "We make the invisible become visible just by paying attention." 

Ken is a friend to some of the city's most ignore citizens - those who live outside, aka the homeless. Ken has discovered, like my good friend Denie in Boise, Idaho, that simply giving time and friendship helps those who are forgotten and overlooked. It helps them mostly see themselves as the art of noticing inspires dignity among the undignified.

That's a crazy kind of invisibility, the kind of soul-bruising you-don't matter type of non-existence, like an inconsequential piece of litter lying on the sidewalk.

Homeless men and women are not the only ones to feel the rejection of invisibility. There are many sons and daughters in thousands upon thousands of families that are left to fend for themselves as mom and/or dad live deeply in self-involvement or outright neglect. Many around us live with the scars of abandonment that creates a kind of crippling sense of being a non-person. Of being less than. Of being invisible.

But there is another kind of invisibility, an obscurity that anchors itself into contented anonymity. It is much different than rejection and abandonment. It is a kind of discipline, like the philanthropists who quietly give to charities but do not want their name broadcast as the donor.  Or the good Samaritan who humbly goes their way never looking back as stand byers shout, "Hey, what's your name? We want everyone to know who you are and what you did!"

Jesus practiced this kind of self-imposed invisibility. Or at least he made a go of it. Like the time he healed a blind man and then told him, "Um, let's keep this on the down low. Let's keep it between us. Don't spread it around what I've done here for you."   As if...!  A man born blind is going to show up at his house in his small village and Jesus thinks he can keep that a secret? Jesus was attempting to keep his reputation from running away from him, from becoming a superstar, a celebrity rabbi who had the hot hands for healing. He was embracing obscurity as much as the Son of God could own with all the wild things he said and did in all those sleepy little towns. What was Jesus thinking!

There is an overlooked spiritual practice in the contemporary church of the discipline of being invisible. Of being unnoticed on purpose. Jesus, for example, told his followers to pray in secret and to also give money in secret. Jesus taught his disciples to fast quietly rather than draw attention to their spiritual prowess. Not in a creepy-secret-society kind of way. The purpose of Jesus' directive seemed to be purposeful anonymity, the willingness to be invisible. I suspect it has something to do with humility.

Flying low under the radar seemed to be Jesus' favorite strategy. There is a message in the New Testament that he didn't strive for people to understand his greatness. That was not his agenda. I think there is something remarkable to discover in that for my own life. Grand schemes to be in the spotlight on the stage of faith are unnecessary. Greatness is horribly overrated.

Jesus said it like this:   if you want to be great in God's kingdom, learn to be the servant of all.

And servants, like the homeless men and women of our cities, are the invisible citizens who quietly do good when no one is watching.

When a popular "purpose driven" movement swept through my faith community helping people to identify God’s special plan for their lives, I instantly became obsessed. I bought into the expectation that God would deliver a concise plan for my life overnight. I waited and watched, bewildered, as others seemed to effortlessly fall into their divine callings as mine stalled. Clamoring for clarity, I willingly submitted myself to‘constructive’ criticism, character evaluations, accountability partners and endless workshops preparing for ministry and purpose, to no avail. This was a precarious season of great expectation. I became increasingly convinced there was an invisible ‘ladder of purpose’ which existed to usher privileged spiritual superstars to significance and meaning. I wanted to climb that ladder and believed once on it, I would also arrive at my coveted destination of divine purpose where everything in my life would finally make sense.  (joy schroeder, communitas collective)

 Wow, I totally get that. I have waited years. Years. For my life to make sense, for my faith to discover her identity and what amazing purpose my life is meant to fulfill. God only hands out cool assignments, ya know.

I met a woman one time who spent a great deal of conversation telling us all about her ministry. Ugh, there's that M word. Min-a-stree.

In the sub-culture of evangelicalism there is a kind of holy grail in discovering what one's ministry is. This is akin to finding one's destiny or cracking your personal code on what your life's purpose is meant to be. And for sure, there are some, the lucky ones, who have a clear path laid out before them of what they can do or become to help make the world a better place.

Then there is the rest of us.

I would love to find my purpose in my life. If anybody finds it let me know. I've searched all over for it. Books, sermons...oh my god, sermon upon life-changing sermon upon sermon...conferences, prayer lines, late-night conversations, pleas upon pleas on the altar of Divine Guidance...

It took me a while and quite a few bruises to finally discover that the best life I am meant to live and the ever-elusive purpose I am meant to possess is actually right in front of me right now. I already have it.

There is a disabled man who lives in my neighborhood. He lives in an adult foster care home in my neighborhood. He cannot support himself due to being horribly crippled by a car accident. He has no family and the few friends he had are unable to take him in. He lives a kind of transient life, people come, people go. But there he remains. Quietly steadfast in his wheelchair, rolling down the sidewalks to where ever the pavement can take him. I once pulled over to help him when his chair got stuck on the curb.  I'm trying to imagine talking to him about his purpose in life. That doesn't seem like the thing to bring up.

What is a purposeful life?  How can we know if we are living out a scripted role that only we can fill?  Or maybe we are asking the wrong questions. That's what I think. I think we are asking questions that are ego-driven, not purpose driven.

Maybe fear is the undercurrent of the search for purpose. Fear of failing at life. Fear of being an irrelevant, anemic Christ follower.

Fear of failing as a human being.

AS IF!

It's a big, fat effed up lie that leads us down a dead-end road in the search for ghosts like purpose, higher calling, destiny, fortune...life is immensely purposeful simply because we exist. I do not fail at being a human being, no matter how broken or frail or corrupt I may find myself.

For sure there is a lot I am not addressing here, like those who possess talents and giftings and advantages in life and do not use them at all to serve their brothers and sisters. This is not what I am talking about. I am referring to the pressure to become more and shine brighter. To soar higher and live more fully. To own your best life now and be driven by purpose.

I don't know about you, but it's not working out for me!

So really, if you find my purpose laying around some where, give me a holler. I think I'll post it on Craigs List and sell it and give the money away. I haven't been using it anyway.