The “More” That Rises and Shines

I think we gravitate toward Rich Mullins because he was a maker of disciples. We long, deep down, to be discipled. We want people to show us Christ. And Rich did that.

We might ask for an explanation of the joke, but really we want someone to tell us the joke again. We might say we want the nuts and bolts of Christianity explained, but really we want someone to become those nuts and bolts for us, so that we can taste and see for ourselves that the Lord is good.

Rich told the joke instead of explaining it. He became the “nuts and bolts” of Christianity. He didn’t just expostulate on how the atonement worked: he incarnated the evidence that it did work. He showed Christ, and in this showing he allowed people the opportunity to “taste and see” that the Lord is good.

And because the Lord is good, it worked.

The best part of Rich Mullins— the part that turns the rest of him to gold— is the part where he decides to be the hands and feet of Christ, so that others can taste, and see, and worship the good shepherd of the loneliest of sheep.

I’m not trying to take Rich out of the picture or diminish his wonderful legacy by saying this. I’m so thankful that he was famous so that I could hear his thoughts and listen to his music. It’s such a gift.

I’m reflecting on how truly and centrally wonderful it is that he really was an arrow pointing heavenward. I think that’s about as awesome a legacy as a human being can leave behind them— for the sojourners who are still pitching tents, looking for clouds, or praying for fire on Mount Carmel.

He made disciples through the “obedience of faith,” which is always going to be a creative and adventurous undertaking, because we can’t do it quite like anyone else has done it before us, just like Rich couldn’t do it quite like anyone had done it before him.

The first step, I think, will always be listening to God, and loving the loveliness of the flowers of this world— not being flower-greedy children who take, and take from a mere desire of acquisition. It’s our job to love the loveliness behind the beautiful. After all, isn’t there more that rises in the morning than the sun? If we love the “more” that rises and shines, if we wonder at the sky that fills the windowed rock, then maybe we’ll know the truth, and maybe the truth will set us free, and maybe that’s better than our wildest dreams.