As I was praying, talking to Jesus that day, I was taking some time with him to review the past decade or so of life and work, getting his insights on what I was up to and where my heart had been. It mostly seemed like a lot of lights and noise, these last few years. My touring as a musician had taken an even stronger turn toward the expression of celebration. I had felt a conviction that Christians had forgotten how to party, really party! I had a vision for what it could look like to invite people, young and old, into a celebration that had real joy and real connection with God in it.  

Loud music and a loud audience did wonders to create this kind of experience. I had become an expert in leveraging my energy toward a particular effect, using sound, lights, and video to compel a group of people in new ways. These party events were a lighthearted, dancing mess of delightfully controlled chaos. The music and transitions were fast and needed to be. There could be no “dead air” in stirring a group toward a celebration like this. I had designed a liturgy that led to great participation, turning a dreary church service into a rollicking hoedown, complete with tiny accordions, balloons, YMCA hand motions, and a cowbell, and I was having a blast doing it. Yet, I knew God was leading me onto something else, and this is why I found myself talking with Jesus that day. 

As Jesus and I looked over the last several years of my life together, it actually seemed like this bent toward celebration marked almost everything I did. I had a natural inclination toward it and an unsinkable positivity. These personality traits had served me well in many situations, and I had nurtured them along the way, too. At the same time, it seemed as if Jesus was inviting me to look deeper. What was the party thing about anyway? Was there something deeper that all this noise and celebration was covering up? Could there be something more, something closer to the heart, something that captured a more robust view of the human experience? My whole life was surely not one big party. I had already known some deep pain and heartache, and I tried to honestly reflect this…but with balloons and cowbells ringing all the time, it was easy to drown out.

Loving me perfectly as Jesus always does, he gently began to hint to another path. In this time of imaginative prayer, it’s like I could see His big excited smile in response to my early years, slowly lower and mellow, and a more somber look came across his face. He reached out his hand to mine, and I could feel the roughness, the nail scars, and a strong, caring presence. He looked intently into my eyes and it was as if he began to describe a future path that would be just as rewarding, just as fulfilling, just as full of himself, but would not be a non-stop party. In fact, the parties might be sparse and far and few between. He reminded me how my previous years were valuable in so many lives. How hundreds of people responded to his love through what I did and how they opened to the joy of God through my songs and leadership, but that this new road would be different. It would be more difficult, yet more rewarding, and that there would most definitely be pain and loss along the way. 

He didn’t force me to say yes. He simply offered a vision of an adventure with him that promised great treasure and life changing experiences, yet would also be filled with testing and sorrow. He made sure to say, “This won’t be a party. You may have the gift of a few parties along the way, but mostly this will be treacherous, challenging work.” He promised a deep, fulfilling journey with him if I accepted, but his serious expression and sincere eyes put a pit in my stomach. Would I say yes? Would I accept this invitation to a new way of following? He didn’t sugarcoat it, that’s for sure. He warned me. 

  Bilbo Baggins came to mind immediately. There is a powerful scene in The Hobbit where Bilbo meets Gandolf for the first time and gets invited by him to the adventure of his life. Bilbo is resistant, likes his normal, boring life just the way it is, but Gandolf continues to talk to him about the potential and opportunity ahead. Bilbo says about his life very early before the encounter, “I was always on time. I was entirely respectable. And nothing unexpected ever happened”. This describes his experience and the values he held, yet one of Gandolf’s first sentences to Bilbo is “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.” Of course, Bilbo dismisses this idea right away, mumbling something about how adventures are uncomfortable and “make one late for dinner.” 

Later in the conversation, Gandolf reminds Bilbo that he used to be a carefree, daring youngster, but that he’s since changed and settled down… and not in a good way. He challenges him, saying, “The world is not in your books and maps…it’s out there”, as he points out the window to the distant woods. As Bilbo begins to soften to the idea and begins to catch a vision for how amazing this opportunity might truly be, he talks to Gandolf more about it and considers the proposal further. Gandolf doesn’t sugarcoat the adventure either, He says, "And not only will there be a dragon, you will have to travel through lands filled with trolls, rock giants, goblins, orcs, giant spiders and a forest full of unhospitable elves. And by the way, I will be leaving you halfway through your journey, and if you don't find some magical item that can turn you invisible you will most likely die." 

It turns out in the story that all of what Gandolf said did come true. Not only that but there were wounds and scars that Bilbo sustained during the journey that would be with him forever. Gandolf did say in that first, early meeting, “You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back.” Bilbo sinks deep into his chair, and staring at the ground he whispers, “Can you promise that I will come back?” The line that Gandolf responds with is so poignant and powerful. He leans in and with his gravelly voice and tangled gray beard he simply says, “No, if you do you will not be the same.”

Treasure seems to always be at the end of an adventure like this. As Jesus and I talked that morning, I felt he was inviting me to a similar journey. I could see his solemn face and his expression draw me into richer relationship and trust. A relationship not based on just good feelings, balloons, and confetti, but a long steady adventure in faith. Parties are great, but it seemed as if Jesus had something deeper in mind. Although there would be times ahead when it might seem as if he was absent, unlike Gandolf, Jesus promised to never leave me. He definitely expressed that I would have some tales to tell at the end of this, and that there surely was treasure beyond compare. He seemed to also echo Gandolf’s words as he reminded me that this adventure would change me forever, that I truly would never be the same. 

How could I say no? What would you do? Here’s the creator of the universe, someone who knows your soul inside and out, with a sparkle in his eye, reaching his hand out and inviting you into something exciting. Although he didn’t force me to say yes, I knew there was no other real choice. Sure, I could try and keep everything normal just as it was, try not to rock the boat or make any difficult decisions, but I quickly realized that wouldn’t be living, that wouldn’t be really living. There was somewhere further that Jesus wanted to take me, and out of his love and care for me, I knew I could trust him for the best, even if it wouldn’t be the easiest. 

The reason I’m writing this and sharing it with you now, is that I deeply believe Jesus has presented this same invitation to you. He invites each and every one of us to a life-changing relationship with himself. He says it like this in Luke 9:23-27, “‘Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat—I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you?’” Jesus is famous for paradoxes like these, turning the idea of loss and gain on its head. What does it mean to lose? What does it mean to win? Jesus seems to be inviting us, imploring us, to take him up on his offer of true adventure and true life with him. And for those of us who are particularly risk-averse, he drops this challenge later in Luke 19 verse 26, “Risk your life and get more than you ever dreamed of. Play it safe and end up holding the bag.” What would it mean for you to risk your life for Jesus? What would it mean for you to play it safe? These are profound questions that the Spirit of God means to stir up in each of us. We can choose to drown out these prompts with noise and busyness or we can choose to embrace God’s intent for us all along and get down to the rich soil of fresh tracks.