Clouds of Unknowing

We, The Ordinary People of the Streets

2010-12-07T09:04:00.006-05:00

"Mission is the intersection of God's love and the world's rejection. The Christian is penetrated to the core by the one just as by the other, and the two converge in him. Because it is a trial that belongs to life, there is no way he can avoid suffering from it. But this trial is a participation in the apostolic trial of the Church; the Church is armed to overcome it; the Church is equipped with the strength to resist it and triumph over it."

--Madeleine Delbrel, We, the Ordinary People of the Streets, First published in 1966 in French under the title Nous autres, gens des rues by Editions du Seuil. English translation copyright 2000, Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., Grand Rapids.

Madelieine Delbrel, a poet by nature and an atheist by conviction, underwent a radical conversion at the age of 20 that led her to found, in 1933, a "gospel" community of lay women dedicated to poverty, chastity,and work among the poor. The photograph is taken of Madeleine in Septemeber 1964, three weeks before her death.

The Leadership Lid

2010-07-09T16:35:00.002-04:00

A friend of mine just gave me a book that millions of others have already read: John C. Maxwell's The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership. In it, the first law is known as "The Law of the Lid", in which Maxwell asserts that a person's leadership ability determines a person's level of effectiveness. I wonder how that applies not just to individuals, but to churches and ministries? I don't think our churches are called to manage the disciples, but to lead the world to Jesus, and to lead the people into discipleship as Jesus leads the church into the kingdom. So the church's ability and willingness to lead will, under Maxwell's assertion, determine the effectiveness of the church. Now, the effectiveness of the church is different than the effectiveness of God, who will find a way to save the world even if the church is not effective (even the rocks will cry out, after all). That said, God's way is to work through the church, so it's time to blow the lid off. And we as a church will blow the lid off only when we increase our ability to lead.

No Matter What You've Done

2010-04-30T17:08:00.002-04:00

When I was a kid, my family would travel a few hours away from my home in Detroit to my grandparent's farm in the middle of Michigan. Remus, Michigan to be exact. You can find it on google earth at 4403 Ten Mile Road, Remus, Michigan. There on the farm, we were able to do stuff that you couldn't do in the sprawling concrete jungle of metro Detroit: shoot bb guns, ride minibikes, jump out of haylofts, pet cows, drive old pickup trucks in great big fields. It seems that out there, parents kind of let you roam a little further - further into the woods, further into silence, further into maturity.

I remember one summer I was walking around with a bb gun. It was a bad summer for me and the bb gun. I shot a blackbird that I was just trying to scare, and I shot out the window of my grandpa's 57 green chevy pickup. Both were bad choices. Both were discovered soon after by my elders. Both left me (and them) with this sinking feeling of "uh-oh; why on earth did I do that?" The bird later died. The glass was never repaired. The world was changed by my poor judgement. Sound familiar? These are the cute-"everybody's got to learn"-coming of age stories. Unfortunately, we homo-sapiens don't learn very well. As I've shared with select people over the years, there are many more sordid tales of damage to property and hearts, caused by my hands, my words, my 'momentary lapses in judgement'.

I'm pretty sure that I'm not the only one out there who has experienced this. Where do you go when you've let them down? Where do you go when your actions wound? In the ancient story of a king who used murder to conceal a sordid affair, the king laments to God, "Against you and you alone have I sinned, Lord God." But I don't think the sin against God hurts near as much as consequences of harm done to one another, which throws mankind collectively and individually into what some have termed the 'dark night of the soul.'

What I want to know is: when and how, under what circumstances, does dawn break onto such a dark night, no matter what you've done? Some would say that time heals all wounds. I hope there is a more powerful potion than the passing of time.

More to come . . .don't lose hope.

No Matter What You Believe

2010-04-23T11:55:00.002-04:00

I want to talk to you, no matter what you believe.
I am a pastor, a Christian pastor, even a United Methodist pastor; mainline denomination, on the northern edge of the Bible belt, and I want to talk to you, no matter what you believe.

I won't condemn you, I can't possibly convert you, I probably haven't thought about some of the things that you've thought about in as much depth as you have. But I want to talk to you.

If you're like most, you'll be able to ask me something I can't answer. You'll compare me to others in the same category as me (whatever that might be) and find I'm different, or the same, but I still want to talk to you.

I want to hear about you, and what you think, and what you believe, and what pops you out of bed in the morning, and what keeps you up at night. I believe you've got a lot to offer the world. If you're anything like me, you're probably good at a couple of things, not good at a lot, and wish you were better at some. No matter what you believe.

I won't use your story as an illustration to make my point. I won't go looking to exploit the conversation. It might take me a few moments to fully tune in to what you're saying. You might catch me at just the right time and place, or we might need to set a time. But I want to talk to you.

No matter what you believe, I believe something too. My beliefs compel me to want to find out about you, to listen so carefully that something in you helps me understand the world, our place in it, and where we might be headed in this life or the next. I hope that what I believe is worth sharing, but that's not why I want to talk to you. If you want to know something about what I believe, you'll ask.

And that's good enough for me, no matter what you believe.

No Matter What It Takes . . . Part 2

2010-04-13T17:21:00.002-04:00

To all of you who came out to Another Level Sunday night at Oliver Twist, I say thank you. To those of you who couldn't make it, I say we missed you! We did indeed talk about the mistakes we make in life, and how they drive us apart. The night's conversation ranged from the not-very-personal celebrity-caliber mistakes (like those by the golfer who shares his name with a feline), to the slightly more personal mistakes made by companies and service providers and churches that annoy the ((&&*(^ out of you, to the oft-painful 'deal-breaker' mistakes. We talked about how sometimes those mistakes really change your life, and how sometimes you carry around their long-lasting-legacies as baggage and haunting thoughts.

I've met a lot of people who share with me a propensity for learning about life the hard way, often one mistake at a time. I've also met a lot of people who have an ability to move on. As a friend of mine named Kurt once said, "it's not whether you fall that matters in life, it's how well you bounce." I agree; but bouncing ain't easy, and in a very real sense, it can't ultimately be done alone. Often times, the more we try to bounce, the less we succeed.

Take the case of most anyone struggling with addiction. The addict consumes their drug (or porn or whatever) of choice. It gives a high or some other form of positive feedback. The high leaves. The rational thought appears, condemning the behavior and illiciting shame. The shame leads to a resolution: Never again. The resolution leads to an obsession on avoiding the 'drug'. The obsession with avoidance quickly allows the obsession with the drug to return. The vow of abstinence is sabatoged by the power of the thoughts and the drug itself, especially if there is a physiological addiction/withdrawl. So the addict consumes again. And again, and again.

The power of the mistake over life that must be broken, through humility, accountability, repentance, honesty, vulnerability. Ultimately, a price must be paid. The good news is that God has made a way out. There is a higher power. For the Christian, there is the forgiveness and justification that comes with a commitment to Christ and connection to a Christian community. For the agnostic or otherwise religious, there's at least a 12 step program.

Ultimately, we are freed from our obsessions, freed from the destructive power of our mistakes, by a redeeming God who pursues us, no matter what it takes, and a community that embraces us in love. But it's not easy. Nobody said life would be easy, but it's worth it, no matter what it takes.

No Matter What It Takes

2010-04-09T17:13:00.003-04:00

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Oops. Well, he's not the only one to ever make a mistake . . .

Mistake makers, you're in good company!

When I first moved to Atlanta, I moved in next to a girl that I heard was single. That raised my eyebrow. I remember the first time I actually saw her, she was taking some trash to the curb. I ran out the door and introduced myself as the new guy that was now on the other side of her duplex. "Great timing," she said, "I was just taking out the trash!" Oops.

The next night, my friends from work wanted me to go out with them; "Nope," I said, "I think I'm going to just happen to be playing my guitar on the front steps tonight when a certain someone gets home." Well, I was there when that certain someone got home, and that guitar playing turned into a long evening conversation. I'm happy to say that it's about 15 years later, and that first awkward and modest pursuit of the girl next door has resulted in some 12 years of wedded bliss.

Of course, anyone who's experienced the 'wedded' part knows that it's not all 'bliss.' There are plenty of screw-ups and stumbles along the way. And don't get me started on all of the mistakes that get made on the journey through single-hood. The faintest memory of them still makes me cringe! From moments of indiscretion, like talking it up a bit too much with a girl who's not your date,

to absent-minded ignorance, like buying candy for someone who's diabetic,

to failures to communicate, like not telling your loved one you'll be working late, there are plenty of opportunities for simple mistakes to boil over into major ordeals!

One day I was looking through the pages of the Bible, and I got to thinking about the great mistakes that it contained. Adam and Eve eating the apple, Moses killing an Egyptian in revenge, a king name David scandalizing his reign with an affair and a murder, Jesus rising to influence and then being killed for stirring up the religious authorities . . . who knew that a book so sacred would contain the record of so many mistakes?

I wonder what we can learn from that

Bending Over Backwards

2010-02-12T11:32:00.002-05:00

This past week I sat in on a great discussion about a Max Lucado book. Courteousness was the central theme, and quickly the conversation turned to public displays of rudeness - in line at the bank, unreasonable customers, bad customer service, and the like. There were several small business owners in attendance, who were quick to share stories of customer service 'challenges' (i.e. horror stories!)that they'd encountered.

The fundamental problem was conflict between the Christian ethic of 'turning the other cheek' and the pragmatic responsibilities of running a viable business. Where is the line? When a customer expects a business to address a problem for which the business is not responsible, how is the Christian businessperson to respond? By extension, it's not just business owners who are caught up in this ethical dilemma. If I have a spare bedroom, or even space on my couch, and I encounter a homeless person, am I obligated by my Christian faith to open up my home to the person with no where else to sleep?

So that frames the question. I'll share some thoughts and perhaps resolutions in a couple of days. In the meantime, what do you think?

A Devotion on Another Level

2010-02-03T10:19:00.002-05:00

One of the initiatives I'm involved in is Another Level - an upstart outreach to persons who for the most part have never been to church. This post is written as a meditation for the leaders, based on Jeremiah 1:4-10.

The word of the LORD came to me (Jeremiah), saying, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations."
“Ah, Sovereign Lord," I (Jeremiah) said, "I do not know how to speak; I am only a child."
But the LORD said to me, "Do not say, 'I am only a child.' You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you," declares the Lord.
Then the LORD reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, "Now, I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and kingdoms to uproot and tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant"
Jeremiah 1:4-9

This month, we’re going to be focusing as much effort as we can on getting the word out about Another Level. We’re going to be focusing on inviting others to come and see what God is doing, to come and consider what God might be doing in their lives, to come and share with us their wisdom and their struggles, to join with us in seeking out the life God has set before us. This sharing comes with some level of risk. We risk being rejected, we risk putting our proverbial foot in our proverbial mouths, we risk failing and we risk being criticized. We also risk that the people we invite will actually come; and when they come, who and what will they find? They will find ordinary people, whom God has known since before God formed us in the womb, who were set apart for this mission that we are a part of. It’s daunting, really.

Jeremiah was a prophet who God chose to speak to the nation of Israel. When God talked to Jeremiah about tearing down – he was talking about nations and kingdoms. I don’t know about you, but I am not feeling called to tear down or build up nations.
But there are walls that we ARE called to tear down: the walls that insulate the church – Christ’s body on earth – from the people she is called to serve; the walls that divide persons of different color skin or different levels of income; the walls that disconnect the wise from the disillusioned.

Maybe we can find great comfort and purpose in the words God spoke to Jeremiah and the words God speaks to us: “You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the Lord. Courage is not the absence of fear. Courage is the decision to act in spite of the fear. Faith is putting our trust in the One God who calls us to courage, come what may.

Cold Winter's night

2010-02-02T17:12:00.002-05:00

Most of our day was filled trying to occupy our little snow angels, who made countless trips in and out of the house to find things to do in the snow. I started to sense that even in the midst of the glorious family time, God was calling me to some time apart to listen. So much of our lives are spent tending to this, watching that, investigating this, trying to plan that, that even on 'family days' we can be out of balance. After a full day of sledding and drying jackets and gloves, after some time in front of the TV, after my wife turned in because she was wiped out herself, I did the dishes, and then took the trash can to the curb (actually in error - I was a day early). But as I stepped out onto the porch, i gazed up at a peaceful, crystal clear sky. It had been so long since I just stopped and sat and gazed at creation, I decided the time was right.
I got out my warmest sleeping bag and put a couple of camping sleeping pads down on my snow-covered deck, and climbed into my goose-down coccoon, pulling the draw cords on the bag to a small circle around my face. The moon was so bright that I almost needed to shield my eyes. The air in my lungs was cold, but the sleeping bag did the trick and kept me warm.

I tried to stop, to pause, to rest, to pray. To bask in God's beautiful creation. I thought about people who had no choice but to sleep outside, and how blessed we are to have a warm house. I thought about how big the universe is, and how small we are. What I was mostly aware of, however, was how little time I spend in quiet stillness. I don't think I made it all the way through a single hymn without having my thoughts drift off on some tangent.

In the end, I got cold. I was continually shifting in the sleeping bag, trying to find a warm position. I finally gave up, when my feet got cold and in the constraints of the sleeping bag I couldn't get my socks back on. I went inside at about 5am, not having slept a wink, and crawled into bed next to my wife. I suppose it was a vigil of sorts, a reminder that prayer is hard - even in utter silence and alone-ness. God used the day without church to call me back to relationship; he used a time without interruption to remind me of how many interruptions I put in our way; he used the middle of a cold night to remind me of how cold the heart can grow without his presence. I'm ready to be warm again.

Ed

That Guy

2009-12-25T00:26:00.003-05:00

Well, the presents are under the tree. Evidently Santa has arrived. Many of our family members and church family members have helped to make this another wonderful christmas. There are, thankfully, presents under the tree. Can't wait to see the kids faces.

That said, there's a new sense of hope in the air. This was the first christmas in many many years where we didn't add to the red side of the balance sheet. More notably, I've been blessed to see several mini-miracles; like the one at church tonight.

During the Children and Family Christmas Eve service, a collection of coats was taken up to benefit the people served by the Salvation Army. Most of the children had been invited last week to bring a new or gently used coat to donate for a child in need. This little girl's family didn't know about the collection, though. Probably their first time attending anything at our church. The little girl had a coat, though: the one she wore to the service. She looked at her mom, and in a whisper asked if it was OK. Her mom nodded that it was. Indeed it was. She left her own coat for another child to benefit from.

It was a chilly night tonight. Not freezing, but not warm either. The little girl probably had goose bumps on her way to her car. But she warmed the hearts of a blessed few who had the eyes to watch a Christmas miracle unfold, and her gift will warm the body of a blessed girl somewhere. That little girl won't know the story, but it will warm her just the same.

Then there's the call from an old friend - haven't spoken with him in more than a year; there's the offer from someone at church to help us do some last minute preparing; there's the divinely-infused conversation earlier this evening; there's the gift card that I re-gifted that bought a badly needed pair of shoes; the 'here's a little something' presents from Benson memorial folks;

I know in the last post, I said I was 'that guy'. I think I still am. We are still that family. Nothing much has changed. Even when I was seeing the role with tears in my eyes, God invited our family to be faithful. All we decided to do, together, was to wait and see what happened. It was worth the wait.

Merry Christmas

Just which Christmas is it beginning to look like?

2009-12-16T16:24:00.006-05:00

We live in a world of contrasts. Just this past Sunday, within the span of a few brief moments, one of those contrasts drove me to tears.

Our senior pastor, Skip Williams, was delivering a fine example of an Advent sermon. During the sermon, he told the obligatory story of Christmas morning - children, gathered around the tree, looking at the piles of presents, drooling and squealing with the anticipation of tearing through them. His encouragement was to pause, and to read the Christmas story in Luke's gospel, and to pray. Wise advice, indeed.

A few minutes later in the service, as is the custom at our church, some of our members performed a "modern nativity", replacing the angel in the Christmas story with a Wake Med Life-flight nurse, shepherds with a wounded vet and a fireman, wise men with a business man and a doctor. And Mary and Joseph were recently homeless from the foreclosure crisis, living out of a suitcase with their very much alive (and very cute) baby "Jesus".

This year, Christmas won't be easy for my family. We really haven't been able to put away much for presents or Christmas travel, and in all seriousness, for the first time in my life, I'm not sure where the money for Christmas presents is going to come from.

That meant that I was a blubbering mess in church last Sunday; I was moved to tears. I'm a paycheck away from being 'that family'. I stand at a distance, almost from outside the windows, gazing at families with mountains of perfect gifts piled under the tree. I tremble at the thought that somehow I won't be able to provide the best Christmas ever. When the overwhelming voice of our culture screams "Make your kids happy by having lots of gifts under the tree", while the overwhelming Christian culture overwhelmingly screams, "In your perfectly decorated house, make sure you have a beautiful austere manger scene displayed", in the midst of the din the silent night, the lonely cold cave, the unwed mother, the uncomfortable newborn, the temporarily homeless parents, the poor shepherds, are so easily drowned out. It becomes, for those who find themselves outside the reach of the cozy hearths, a question of faith: just who is God with, anyway? With the 'us' that devours it's presents, or with the 'us' that stares longlingly from the outside in, taking only warm comfort in the assurance that God might have come to be even with us? A study in contrasts, indeed.

Complete Joy - 4/19/09 Sermon - Part 3

2009-04-22T11:16:00.004-04:00

This morning, I was tempted to share with you a long litany of the lives that have been changed as a result of God’s working through this church, through the church. Make no mistake, that litany was a long one. There are many wonderful stories of testimony, of courageous action in the name of Christ, of the life-giving power of God manifest in our midst. Praising our WIHN efforts, our children’s ministry, our scouting program, our Sunday School. All of those beacons of light, reflections of the divine in our midst. I was trying my best to follow the form of this letter of 1 John:
"Concerning that which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen and with our hands we have touched, which we have looked at an now proclaim"
But I think If that was the sermon I would have preached, we would have missed the point. 1 John talks about God’s light, and an awareness of our own sin as being necessary for true fellowship and complete joy.
So, it seems to me that a better, more glorious sermon, a sermon that is true to the spirit of 1 John, would be to discuss our shortcomings. The things that set the alarms off from within. An acknowledgement that we’re not there yet – we’re not even close.

This fellowship – it’s made up of people with rough edges. The people who have been here for awhile know the rough spots we’ve been through. While most folks come here dressed up, all the folks here are up to their eyeballs in sin. Not all of us cheat on our taxes, very few of us (I hope) are murderers or serial killers, the great majority of us really do try to honor our fathers and mothers, but when you shine God’s light into the deep recesses of our hearts, it’s not very pretty. We’re all the same in that regard. Different sins, same sinful nature. We all stand in need of mercy before God. And yet, some here are the recipients of complete joy. Honest fellowship. The ones who experience this peace, this joy, this unity, they get what brother 1 John is telling us – we’re not perfect. We need Jesus. Now get out there and find some other folks who need to hear that or who already live it.

I close with this illustration. I’ve got two kinds of materials here. I want to make something strong. Something that will hold up under pressure. Something that will weather the storms of life. Here’s one material – a plastic Easter Egg. It’s shiny – smooth – put together. Quite nicely. It’s very pretty to look at. But if you want to make something out of it that will last, well, good luck.

Here’s another material – a rough jagged stone. Dirty. Rough edges. Who knows where it’s been. But look at how well it fits together. Imagine 3 or 4 hundred of these stacked together – and you’ve got yourself by the grace of God – something that lasts.

On Christ the solid rock we stand – all other ground is sinking sand. Brothers and sisters, I share with you what I have seen and heard and touched – concerning the word of life – that we may have true fellowship with the one who is before all things and with one another, and that our joy may be complete. Amen.

(Stone Wall picture from North Wales Picture Library, Paul Mattock)http://www.northwalespicturelibrary.co.uk/Landscape%20folder/pages/stone%20wall(toned)%20copy.html

Complete Joy - 4-19-09 Sermon - Part 2

2009-04-22T11:13:00.003-04:00

(This sermon is based on 1 John 1:1 - 2:2)

Concerning that which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen and with our hands we have touched, which we have looked at an now proclaim
Where there is charity and wisdom, there is neither fear nor ignorance, where there is patience and humility, there is neither anger nor disturbance. Where there is poverty with joy, there is neither covetousness nor avarice, Where there is inner peace and meditation, there is neither anxiousness nor dissipation . . . Where there is mercy and discernment, there is neither excess nor hardness of heart. (St Francis of Assisi, Francis and Clare, p. 35, as printed in the People’s Companion to the Breviary, p. 431)
I know a man whose life became one of fear and trepidation when he received news from the IRS that his tax records didn’t add up, and he was being audited. It caused fear in the depths of his heart because he really did have something to hide – evidently the numbers looked suspicious because he was not being honest. He was not being honest because he believed he needed the money more than the government did. But, to be honest, he didn’t want to tell the government that. He chose to hide it from them. Truth be told, that kind of cowardly self-confidence was pervasive in his life, and it keeps him bound in some measure of fear.
I know of another man who suspected his elementary school daughter stole something. He came down very hard on her. Thing about it is, I also know because of his boasting that he didn’t report all of his income this year. I find the two positions grossly inconsistent.

1 John 1:8-10
If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.

Contrast that with a movie I watched this week – I finally got around to watching Ben Kingsley’s marvelous portrayal of Mahatma Ghandi. As an Indian native in South Africa during the time of apartheid, there is a scene in which Ghandi speaks out against the pass system. The South African government was requiring that all Indian folks carry a pass and be fingerprinted like criminals. Ghandi organized a small rally to protest the system, and proceeded to burn his pass in public, the police standing by to discourage such insurrection. Perhaps if you’ve seen the movie, you remember the scene, Ghandi loudly proclaiming the reason for his defiant action, then placing his pass in the fire. The police responding with a sharp blow to his arm. When Ghandi reaches with the other arm to burn the pass, he is struck again. He reaches to burn another pass. He is struck again. There is great courage in his actions – fully transparent – not fearing any punishment his captors could inflict. Not lashing out or attempting to retaliate against the authorities, trusting that the ultimate good for which he stands will win out over the violent system of oppression.

1 John 1:5-7
This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him there is no darkness at all. If we say that we have fellowship with him while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; but if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.

What really impressed me about Ghandi in the movie, though, was what happened when the nonviolent movement that he started became violent. I had learned somewhere that Ghandi had used a hunger strike as part of his protest against British rule. What the movie portrayed was that Ghandi decided to fast – to go without food – because his own movement had lost its way – the people that were fighting for his own ends had gotten caught up in sinning. An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind, he said. The sin was not out there, it was also inside.

Complete Joy - 4-19-09 Sermon -- Part 1

2009-04-22T11:08:00.001-04:00

As some of you know, Benson Memorial is the second church that Amy and I have served. Our first church was Rush Chapel United Methodist Church – a beautiful small old country church in Northwest Georgia. Rush Chapel was a country church. We were moving from the big city to the country, and Rush Chapel had a parsonage right across the road. From a suburban neighborhood cul-de-sac to a beautiful, albeit rural country road. Just up the road was a trailer park – in fact many of our neighbors lived in mobile home trailers – single or double-wide models, that had been endowed with some sense of permanence by the addition of a wood deck or skirting around the bottom. This was to be a far different neighborhood, and I dare say it was going to take some getting used to.

As we met with the super-caring people of Rush Chapel about the parsonage and the preparations for our arrival, a few things became evident. First of all, we were the first young family to have lived in the parsonage for about 2 decades. Secondly, we weren’t from around there. The parsonage was in a state of disrepair. We spent the summer cleaning it up. But it needed a few more significant improvements – namely a fenced yard and an alarm system. As parents of two toddlers – Amy and I were concerned that our young wandering ones would wander right down our little hill and out into the country road, where one of the area Dukes of Hazard wannabe’s would be driving too fast. The other improvement was an alarm system. Maybe we’d watched too many movies, but our suburban house had had an alarm system, and we felt like we needed one on that dark country hill even more. Well, we compromised on the fenced yard – and they built a nice deck with a railing around it and a gate – it proved to be a good container for our young wanderers – keeping them from straying down the hill, and providing a barrier against the roaming packs of neighborhood dogs who included our house and yard in their territory. And we got an alarm system, complete with glass break sensors that listened all the time and gave us some peace of mind. And we all lived happily ever after.
Now, you know how kids are. Every once in awhile, they call for you in the middle of the night – for a glass of water, or because of the dreaded nightmare. It was on one particular night that little Grace had a bad dream. Evidently it was the mother of all bad dreams, because she woke up screaming. That woke us up, of course, but evidently not fast enough, because before we could get there, she racheted up the screaming, evidently to a pitch that matched the sound of breaking glass. Because in addition to her screaming came the deafening siren of our alarm system. Which woke up Noah and started him to screaming. The phone rings, of course, because the alarm company has been notified, and I’m sure there was some cursing because of a stubbed toe, and soon the whole event goes down in the annals of the loudest nights ever spent in a parsonage.

The other thing that happened, not too long afterwards, was that Noah as a 4 year old was climbing on the railing – riding it like a horse – harmless, really, and within arms reach of the gardening that Amy and I were doing; but as he went to get down he miscalculated, his legs didn’t catch him, and he landed the wrong way on his arm, breaking it clean across.
Well, that reminiscing was fun for me – but it does have another point. We get so worried about what’s out there, when the real threats come from within. We were worried about wild dogs, but it was gravity that got Noah’s arm. We were worried about robbers in the night – the alarms were triggered by our own actions.

All In

2009-03-03T15:10:00.007-05:00

Last week I spent a lot of time reflecting on a sermon that I told on February 22. The main illustration in that story was my own experience as an adolescent, considering a jump from a hayloft on my grandfather's farm.

I sat there for what must have been hours, considering carefully the
age-old question: to jump or not to jump. It was a beautiful day, and I
had nothing but time. It was mid summer. The northern Michigan
hardwoods in full green. The fallow fields of grasses swaying in the
wind. Two cows - black and white - grazing in the pasture. Earlier
that week they had been my bbgun targets. They seemed not to mind - the
sting from a horsefly (why didn't they call them cowflies?) posing a
more startling irritation than the gentle thwack of a bb.
(Incidentally, a bbgun will do a lot more damage to the window of a 57 Chevy
pickup than it will to a cow's hide). I sat on the weathered wood
with my legs dangling over the edge, considering the possibilities for failure
in my leap of faith. I could catch my pants on a nail or splinter.
The impact might break my leg. I could twist an ankle on a hidden
rock. I could end up with a mouth full of cow manure. I considered,
too, the prospects of glory: Having done it; having overcome some
fear; flying for a few brief moments; bragging rights with my brother;
knowing that I would add some measure of legitimacy to my pursuit of
my grandfather's heroic childhood tales.

At the first service, I told the congregation the outcome of my boyhood adventure, but at the second service, I omitted the final detail - did I jump or not? I left them hanging - unintentionally. On the way out of the service, at least 25 people asked me whether I jumped or not, and several waited more than a week with the question still with them.

Unfortunately, however, the sermon was not primarily about my boyhood leap. It was a faith analogy - and quite an obvious one at that. Now I know that the hearers are intelligent people, and the analogy wasn't lost on their ears. But isn't it a powerful commentary how we take such great interest in the heroic (or foolish) adventures of others, as distractions from answering our own hard questions?

So many people that day commented with a knowing grin, "So I just have to ask you, did you jump?" And in retrospect, my reply ought to have been, "You tell me first. In your faith journey, have you gone all in? Have you weighed the options and taken the leap, come what may? If you won't tell me, I won't tell you."

Mark 11:27 and following says,

They arrived again in Jerusalem, and while Jesus
was walking in the temple courts, the chief priests, the teachers of the law
and the elders came to him. "By what authority are you doing these
things?" they asked. "And who gave you authority to do
this?"

Jesus replied, "I will ask you one question. Answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I am doing these things. John's baptism -- was it from heaven, or from men?
Tell me!"

They discussed it among themselves and said, "If we say, "From heaven, he will ask, "Then why didn't you believe him? But if we say, 'rom Men' . . . " (they feared the people, for everyone held that John really was a prophet.)

So they answered Jesus, "We don't know."

Jesus said, "Neither will I tell you by what
authority I am doing these things."

There's something about committing to the journey before the treasures of faith are revealed. The Fellowship of the Ring wouldn't have existed without Frodo's leap. Neo wouldn't have been able to discover the secrets of the Matrix without choosing the pill of no return. Kate Winslett's character on the Titanic wouldn't have tasted the fullness of life had she not gone below decks to dance with the fiddlers. We won't discover the fullness God has to offer without coming down off the fence, without leaping from our figurative haylofts.

Grace and Peace,
Ed

Many thanks for the photo, entitled "MJ Jumps" by Anna Pieka Valentine, used by permission. http://www.flickr.com/photos/annapiekavalentine/2934256901/

Uncomfortable Flight

2009-01-30T14:09:00.005-05:00

Jesus, long ago, was baptized by John in the Jordan. It was a glorious event, with the Gospel recording the heavens opened and the voice of God speaking. But Jesus couldn’t get very comfortable following his baptism. He was led, rather, driven into the wilderness immediately following.
I don’t think God ever lets us get too comfortable. We try to get as comfortable as possible, but spiritually, comfort leads to complacency, and complacent is not really in God’s vocabulary.

TD Jakes says it this way in his book, Before You Do: Making Decisions You Won't Regret (TDJ Enterprises, Atria Books, New York, 2008, p. 186):

"The writer in Deuteronomy says that God stirs up our lives like an eagle stirs her nest. Maybe you’ve been watching Animal Planet more than I have, but let me share what I’ve learned about how mother eagles move their young to maturation. She rearranges her nest, the safe little haven she’s built as a nursery for her brood, so that it becomes as uncomfortable as possible. Why would a mother treat her children this way? She doesn’t want a nest full of dysfunctional birds who cannot move beyond where they began. She knows that if her babies stay in the nest, not only do they miss fulfilling their potential, but they also become an easy target for larger scavengers."

That leads me to ponder my own baptism, and to ponder the spiritual restlessness that I often feel. I wonder in what direction God might be inviting me to travel through the wilderness.

How about you?

Do we dare take on Gaza?

2009-01-16T12:33:00.004-05:00

A friend sent an email this week asking for my thoughts, as a Methodist minister, on the Israeli-Palestinian crisis in Gaza.
So many thoughts swirl around my mind - I make no claim to the rightness or wrongness of them. I hope to continue to be influenced and educated on the nuances of the situation. Nonetheless, there are some perspectives from which I've given the issue thought in conversations with Jon and on my own:

-- As for the biblical witness, Israel has been coexisting with other religions and persons since their original inception. The issue of what to do with other religions in your midst is treated with a wide range of responses in the Hebrew scripture.
--The Bible reports that the Promised Land was conquered by Israel in the time after Moses, and it was reclaimed by force after World War II. Israel (and Judah) were conquered and reconquered throughout their history; they've been on the giving and receiving end of hostile takeovers.
--Americans don't have much moral ground to stand on here, as the nation as we know it was taken by force and coercion, too. Much of our projection of force in the 20th and 21st Centuries has been in the name of spreading democratic or capitalistic values, often in response to 'unacceptable' incursions into regions of our national interest.
--That said, a HUGE part of the Hebrew scripture is concerned with self-criticism of abuses of power, violence, and other atrocities. The excesses of other countries military strategies are also criticized by God speaking through the prophets.
--The treatment of aliens is an important theme in Torah and the Writings and Prophetic tradition. Aliens, persons with no political power in your midst, are often given equal status with Jewish widows an orphans.
--I would dare say that modern Israel functions and behaves as a political state guided by a parliament and government, not a theocracy, as was envisioned by many of the biblical writings. While some of God's promises are independent of the quality of religious observance by God's people, the vast majority assume that the people of God uphold their end of the covenant with devotion to God and not the state.
--Christians ought to be very cautious about making specific interpretations of apocalyptic prophesy that apply to this conflict at this point in time. Despite the caution, every age has appropriated Revelations and other prophetic words to their own time and situation. I believe that the only thing that makes today closer to the second coming or the end of days is that we live in chronological time - in the same way that I'm one day closer to my next birthday than I was yesterday.
--Jesus had very little to say to nations. So did Paul, for that matter. Just War theory is an ethical construction and one of many interpretive perspectives put forward on the relationships between nations by serious christian thinkers. Pacifism is another such ethical construction with equal, if not superior, merit based upon New Testament writings. That said, I think one would be more easily found huddling in a basement Gaza apartment with cowering innocents, than in the turret of an Israeli tank.
--Radical grace and forgiveness will be necessary to break the deadlock over who gets the land and how. Nations are not very good at either.

Hopefully I'll get the chance to elaborate on these topics in the coming days.

Ed

Congratulations to Mike

2008-12-12T12:49:00.002-05:00

My dear friend, Mike Comes At Night, a member of the Blackfeet nation, just finished his coursework on his way to becoming a teacher. It's a long time dream come true for him, and I'm very happy for him and proud of him.

Interview with Teka

2008-12-12T12:46:00.003-05:00

Here's an interview with a woman in Jamaica, talking about typical life up in the hills surrounding Montego Bay

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i77j6takbX4

Kenton's Call

2008-12-12T12:32:00.003-05:00

Remember Kenton - the rafting guide at Lethe? He called me today while I was on my way to the Adult Fellowship Christmas feast in the fellowship hall. He said things aren't going so good. The rafting company, which wasn't doing great anyway, actually had to shut down for two weeks. That puts a guide like him in a tough spot - with no money and even less food.

He said his kids are OK - living with their grandmother. One of them goes to a private school. The government doesn't provide food at private schools, though.

He's tried getting work in Montego Bay before, but he's not qualified - not enough education (remember Doris' son, who had a degree in Elec Engineering from Great Britain, and still couldn't get work? It's undoubtedly worse for a guy who probably didn't finish high school). Anyway, he didn't ask for anything. He was just sharing, although in his not asking he was begging for help with a little food or something. What else but desperation would prompt a call all the way to the states to talk about a situation so bleak? I'm reminded of the call I made to Teka a year ago this week, asking how it was, and finding out that there was no food in the house - and hadn't been for quite some time.

Dominos. When business isn't good, the company doesn't operate. When teh company doesn't operate, daddy doesn't work. When daddy doesn't work, the kids have to move away or not eat, either. All that on my way to a luncheon in which the leftovers would probably feed he and his family for more than a week. I tell you, shadow-walking hurts your feet sometimes.

Anyway, I'm reminded how far $40 or $50 would go if it were wired to somebody like him. Maybe a little bit of light in a dim world.

Dominos. Listening to stories, doing what we can, leads to a dynamic friendship that shatters the lingering static and stereotyped souveniers from tourist visits. This connection is uncomfortable, prompting those with listening ears to re-orient themselves, to live into the hope that maybe a little bit of caring action as the body of Christ can change a life. God only knows what Kenton can offer the world that his poverty keeps him from offering.

Sunday Night Musings - Jamaican style

2008-10-26T23:00:00.000-04:00

Sunday, October 26
Joan, and her daughter Teka. Teka has five children. Her cousin has a few more. Her other cousin, a few more, including a two month old named VJ. Twelve children, one house. Teka’s brother was killed when he fell from the bucket of a utility truck a couple years ago. Teka’s uncle has had two recent strokes. Teka is the only real income amongst a family of 18 in that house.
She works in a supermarket, in the bakery. There is no water cistern at the house, except two large rain barrels. There is no fresh water cistern. When the nearby spring goes dry, or the pipe of municipal water breaks, theer might not be any water for some time. They didn’t know what they would eat that night. This is Teka’s “blank week”. She gets paid every two weeks with a salary that only lasts one week. Two times a month, there is no food. Teka gets four days off this week, because Friday she collapsed at work and had to be taken to the emergency room. Low blood pressure. They wrote her a prescription for medicine. She must get it in Montego Bay. Getting there takes money. How will you pay for it? Well, I don’t know, she says.
The baby daddy doesn’t come around. He doesn’t pay for any support of the kids. Is that a good thing or a bad thing, that he doesn’t come around? Mostly a good thing, because when he comes around, he demands sex in return for anything he might give. We don’t know for sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Teka wasn’t really wanting 5 children.
Paul, our driver, says he only has 1 boy – a teenager. He says he wanted only 1 so that he could raise them right – so he would be able to afford them. Paul is a rare soul.
I was bothered this morning by our morning meal. There was more food on our table than Teka and Little had in their possession to feed 18 children and 8 adults. I think that sums up the need pretty well.
When you start talking about needs, two subjects quickly emerge. 1) The enormity of the needs, and 2) the limitations in addressing it. A third subject, which may be a subset of limitations, is the issue of socio-economic relativity. How much is enough? Is it ‘enough’ assistance to restore a house to having no leaks? Or is it enough to build a home to North Raleigh standards, or even Mrs. Moore’s standards? These are issues we will need to wrestle with.
Where do we focus our assistance? Here is a common sense hierarchy based upon my observations:
Water – for drinking, bathing, and washing
Food – calories, nutrition, preparation
Clothing – adequate amount, replacement, washing
Shelter – security, elemental protection, social space, cooking space, resting space
Family – Safety, boundaries, sharing, encouragement
Health Care – Medicine, Dr., Diagnosis, Treatment, Prevention
Education – enough said
Income – skills, money, time away from working
Spiritual – church, prayer, learning
Community – support, encouragement, greater resources, laws, protection, sharing
Government – infrastructure (schools, roads), justice, provision

Some High Schools have agriculture teachers who operate farms and gardens as teaching tools.
Mrs. Moore bought 30 eggs for $40 Jamaican, but eggs are not a typical part of the Jamaican diet – they are high in cholesterol and ‘you’ve got to watch the color’. Even so, 30 eggs cost about 60 cents US.
Mr. Hugh Johnson, a member of the church in Hopewell, is a choir man, a Men’s ministry leader – he’s a welder, and he has grown boys. They get together on holidays once a year at a reunion. He used to work at the bauxite mine as an aluminum welder. Now he does ironwork and repairs. Arc and oxycetalene welding. He says a skilled tradesman makes roughly 10K Jamaican per month. Unskilled, maybe 4-5000. Minimum wage is 3000 per month. Hospitality/reception industry – 6000, cleaning – 4000.
Reverend Joseph, the deacon, works primarily in Lethe. She lives at the Bethel parsonage. She worked regularly at the home in Copse – West Haven.
Mrs. Moore knows the tax administrator – he is a circuit steward and goes to Bethel.

She showed Celeste the garden today. She also arranged for the youth to come and speak to us. They want us to make a tape and send it to them of our youth.

She spoke at length with us, talking and laughing. Her husband likes the house, she loves the neighborhood, but would like a smaller place. This is too much to take care of.
Joyce has a friend who told us Joyce is struggling. The husband doesn’t help much. Joyce works hard for little pay.

Mrs. Moore told us that Nicholas came from very poor situation, has a learning disability, struggles in school.

At church this morning, Rev. Joseph preached about how the church must change to create welcoming environment for the youth, or we will lose a generation. She also said anyone over 70 is on borrowed time – don’t waste it. When we see the destruction, lay it at the feet of the almighty. She asked individuals to quote their favorite Psalms, into a microphone. I did the Youth sermon. I talked about being afraid of the Shark I saw in the ocean last year, I asked them what they are afraid of – insects, snakes, and lizards. I told them about the gunshot last year that we heard during church. I used Psalm 27:1-4, the Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear?

We bought groceries for Mrs. Irving and Teka’s family. Hopefully we can get more “Tings” tomorrow.

Tonight we gathered on the roof for a cool breeze and plenty of stars. What a blessing.

Dominoes and Shadow Walkers

2008-10-25T23:00:00.002-04:00

Saturday Night, October 25, 2008 Mrs. Moore’s
“Shadowlands”
Shadowwalkers we are. 2 homes. Combined household income, not very much. Children at home – 17. That in and of itself is remarkable. Considering one house has only 5 people makes it staggering. We walked with Little, who went by “Leeker” or Licka or Leeka depending on how you pronounce it. Mrs. Irving is how we were introduced originally. We met her near the SHOP on the road to Lethe; we tried to drive to her house, but the bus wouldn’t make the climb. We were reduced to walking, which, in truth, we preferred. It was steep and slow. From the road below I heard, “Me like dee back one!” That was me. How flattering. Too bad she wasn’t my type J.
Mrs. Irving is shy. Exccedingly so. Very quiet. At least around us. W e climbed the very steep road to an intersection, bordered on the right by a cinder-block house. Turning right up a two-track “road” that followed the ridgeline, past a rusted out car. Past a muddy low spot. Up an even steeper hill to her house. A one story cinder block tin-roof two room house, with a rough outdoor kitchen and a cement-pad extending out from the house, covered. TO call it a breezeway conjures up a much too polished image, but the functional description would be accurate. Eight children, from about 2 years old up to 13 or so, playing dominoes – gathered around the table on cement stools on the breezeway.
Little doesn’t live there. They are her children, though. Little lives with her parents up the road. Her boyfriend, the baby-father, works during the day tending goats.
She has six children. One has moved away. ONE LOVE on the wall. Crosses painted on the outside. Ussain Bolt, the new national hero, on the wall. Inside there is a small gas range and oven. Little problem – a tank of gas costs about $100 US. No gas. When there’s no gas, you use the outside kitchen and make a little fire out of wood. Occasionally there is nothing to eat. IT’s mostly a safe place, she tells us, but rarely it happens that someone is angry and comes around.
The kids – they want to be a mechanical engineer, a teacher, a doctor, a bat man in the cricket sense, They believe they will be. There is no doubt.
Back at our guest house, we talk with Joyce, Mrs. Moore’s (our guest house owner) assistant. We learn that she also assists the teachers at a local school. She has a house full of children, too. The baby daddy lives in England. Her oldest son is an electric engineer. He studied for three years in England until his visa ran out. Now, he’s home, with no Visa and no work for him here in Jamaica. It’s frustrating. She told us how she met Mrs. Moore. Some 12 years ago, she was having a hard time. She knocked on a door looking for work. Explaining her situation, and desire for work, the teacher coincidentally was teaching all her children. She listened, and introduced her to Mrs. Moore. They’ve been together ever since. It’s frustrating, though, that she needs to be together. She uses that word, “Frustrating”, a lot. It sums up so much.
Mrs. Moore, she is a beautiful soul. She worries about her mother, who is lately not well. That is exhausting for her – helping to take care of her mother and the rest of life. She went to choir practice tonight – We played dominos. “Reverend, you play a wicked game!” she said. We were sworn to secrecy on the final tally of the games. Buck out, means you are lucky. We slammed the dominoes on the table. The hard the knock, the better your chances, after all.

Jamaica Journal - October 24 - Airport Musings

2008-10-25T12:40:00.000-04:00

Friday, October 24, 2008 – Miami Dade International Airport
Almost there, but not quite.
As they say, it’s all over but the talking. I’ve got Bob Marley in the headphones (Pearl Jam and Cowboy Junkies, too)
We’re eating Pizza Hut, watching CNN. There’s a sign across the way that says some company helped save millions of dollars. The news is continuously playing the stock market losses.
Teka called to say she was going to work, and to say she’ll see us tomorrow.
The Cowboy Junkies song is called, “Cheap is how I feel.” It couldn’t be more opposite. I have so much. We’re going to a place with very little. Besides a little technology and the clothes we’re wearing, we go with ideas and empty hands. And yet we live every day with so much. I, for one, brought four pairs of shoes.
I wonder how much offense we may cause, not bringing much. I guess that’s what we want to do – build trust. Trust comes when what is promised is not yet seen. Trust builds relationships.

Jamaica Journal - 10/24/08 Mrs. Moore's

2008-10-24T23:41:00.000-04:00

Mrs. Moore’s – Friday Night –
Crickets and Cicadas, chirps and excited far away yells. Cars and buses on the highway far down the hill.
A single low-energy fluorescent bulb overhead. Ceiling fans spinning. Breat and Celeste silently writing. A strange flying bug lands on my head.

We arrived on time. We breezed through customs. It’s the slow season, we learned, making the invitations and solicitations of the red caps and taxi drivers all the more robust. Paul Campbell, our driver/guide, met us outside. He’s a tall, very gracious man. He was holding a white sign with red letters that read “Priesta”. Our eyes lit up with excitement and relief as through the miracle of the telephone we met the person who was waiting for us, though we had never met. “I knew it was you” he said. “Only if you were told to look for three white people lost in a sea of people.” I replied.
He is here to serve us – to take away that portion of our stress. “Free your mind,” he said a few times. Just relax. Tell me what you want to do, and I will tell you the best way to do it. He has known Mrs. Moore 20 some years. He takes many groups – church groups. “You may be wondering about the half-bottle of whiskey. That was left behind by a friend. It’s not mine.” (It was sitting next to him). “Sure,” we said, laughingly. We believe him. Seriously.
We’re driving to Lethe. T raffic is building – the sights – driving on the left, driver on the right – are both shocking and comforting – rough looking skinny bloodshot eye rastas and school children in uniforms. Near accidents and posters with the fastest humans – titles now held by Jamaicans.
We start to see familiar kids faces, now grown a year older. I recognize the faces mostly because I’ve been looking at a slideshow and picture frames of them for a year now. Funny how when all you’ve got is a picture, your mind doesn’t apply its own aging to the people you’re looking at. The children stand at bus stops. They walk the pot-hole ridden roads.

We arrive at the school. Mrs. Brown, with her many, thin brown braids – isn’t sure she recognizes me, and I’m not sure I recognize her. Her 1st grade teacher, I remember well. There are a couple of older male helpers around. The first grade teacher (Mrs. Needham) and Allison McGee are there. We are introduced awkwardly and straight away to Mrs. Irving – a VERY SHY woman – having a very hard time making ends meet. Six children – all ages – one grown. She lives up from the school on the right. Her smile is precious – her hair braided close on her head. We meet her at 10 at the little shop up the road tomorrow.
Yes, it was awkward. We stood between the buildings of the school. Celeste coached me in the van afterwards that in my discomfort my arms were crossed and I looked stern the whole time. It was my first real venture trying to create something from nothing cross-culturally.
We learned about some needs:
Physically – the building needs repair but is government-owned. Red tape here.
Computers with learning software are desired. On carts?
Perishable supplies such as construction paper, books, lined paper.
Money for the food program.\
Roughly 80 of the kids get fed breakfast – 70-100 more need it.
Path identifies kids in need – for lunches? If kids miss more than 3 times, they are off the roles. Breakfast is based on donations and hasn’t happened this year. Everybody comes when it is offered. Remedial education – reading and math – would be helpful, but there is no money. Possibiliity of funding through the church. Uniforms for schools are not provided.
The gutters leaked – rusted through. Birds fly in and through the classrooms – 7 rooms, divided by chalkboards.
I’m sure they’re talking to their husbands about us. That pastor seemed angry. Why is it all about needs? What if we could feed the kids?

My aunt is a teacher. Her worldview is one of persistent compassion mixed with the apathy and cynicism that comes from years and masses of troubling circumstances.

Striking things:Derelict structure on side of road
Lazy work ethic
Led to introspection.
So many things to do –
They don’t believe we’ll do anything
Decompressing 3 hours – vs. Bret’s experience
Paul – Relax your mind
Jumble of ideas
Uniforms – see it, touch it, feel it
Helps with pride
Appropriateness
Clothing/Shoes
Tutoring program

Jamaica Journal October 19

2008-10-19T12:37:00.001-04:00

Sunday, October 19, 2008 10:45PM. 4 ½ days until we arrive in Jamaica

Mission Work, done well, takes a lot of communication. Next week at this time, God willing, I’ll be sitting on a rooftop in Hopewell hearing the sounds of dogs barking and reggae music blaring.
This past month has been filled with the sounds of communication. A phone card from OneSource.com has enabled twenty five cents per minute calls. These calls have been made to renew relationships, to set expectations, to make arrangements. I’ve spoken with Allison McGee and Mrs. Brown at the Lethe school; with Delores Moore who runs the guest house; with Teka and her mother Joan in Copse; with Rev. Llewellyn who is the Methodist District Superintendent (actually the Senior Pastor of the 11 church circuit in Montego Bay / St. James). We have a tentative schedule arranged, and a budget that is as reasonable and definite as we can make it. I write the schedule below for the posterity of historical record and the amusement of seeing how much it will change:
Friday we land in Montego Bay at 1:00 pm
We hope to meet the Lethe staff at about 3:00pm
We are hoping that at that very important meeting we will assess the needs of the children, and begin to formulate a plan for sustained involvement. We also have requested a pairing with one or two families who are in significant need, that perhaps we can visit with them on Saturday and Sunday. Teka’s family is expecting us on Saturday. She has a job now; last year at Christmas her family had nothing to eat.

On Sunday we will worship with Mrs. Moore. Hopefully we will also meet with the St. James Poor Relief agent. Monday morning we are scheduled to meet with Rev. Llewellyn at his office in Montego Bay.

I am very excited to see again the children from last year, and to renew those very early friendships.

In my most sincere dreams, I hope to somehow connect in a meaningful way with an urban center for street kids, or perhaps plant the seeds of creating one and getting in at Blossom Gardens. Perhaps, if that home for infants is hurting as much as it appears, we can make a real difference there. We also hope to explore the possibility of feeding the children in Lethe, either the forgotten children on weekends, or the children that don’t qualify for government food during the week.

This week, I must buy gifts for Daniel (backpack, shoes), Teka and her family, Mrs. Moore, the Lethe school, and Rev. Llewellyn. I also would like to see if my friend wants me to take Sasha anything.

I pray that our team will be bold in faith, yet secure in God’s protection. I pray that we will be at the same time humble and effective in accomplishing God’s purpose, not ours. I pray that we would see our Jamaican friends as God sees them, and that our hosts would see Christ in and instead of us.

This morning, the congregation prayed for us at 8:45. It was a very sacred and humbling and powerful experience. We do not really take anything but openness, and some long-sought direction. We trust totally in God’s love and the Truth that God’s word does not return without accomplishing its purpose.

Messed up

2008-07-11T17:30:00.003-04:00

Messfest '08

What a blast it was to get messy with a bunch of our youth. Chocolate syrup + whipped cream + bags of flour = a HUGE mess. I think God specializes in being present in messy situations. It's there that we risk everything we have so carefully tried to hold together. More often than not, it turns out with rough edges. But it's there that there is the promise of laughter in the face of threat, peace in the face of chaos. I hope I'll always be willing to follow Jesus into the messy places of the world, sometimes in solidarity and sometimes helping to clean up, occasionally part of the problem and in need of Jesus' hose to clean me off. Thanks Andrea for reminding me about ministry.

Go and Learn What This Means

2008-05-28T16:28:00.003-04:00

My new niece Addison

In the Christian bible, the writer Matthew ascribes the following saying to Jesus: "Go and learn what this means: "I desire mercy, not sacrifice." For I have not come to call the righteous but sinners."
The phrase is haunting me. Go and learn what this means. How does one go and learn mercy? I realize that it haunts me because, for the most part, my life situation doesn't require mercy all that often. And, my life path does not intersect persons in desperate, visible need of mercy all that often.
And both of those, I think, reflect sin. Sinful institutions, sinful societies, sinful individual decisions, because the people that I name as brothers and sisters are in need of mercy. And if they need it and I don't, then we are divided. And division, especially division between the suffering and the not-suffering, is sinful.

Perhaps the best way to go and learn is to enter situations vulnerably, to join with the vulnerable. But I don't know.

Picture posted on www.irrawaddy.org/article.php?art_id=8524

But that's China

2008-05-25T00:15:00.006-04:00

3000 people died on 9/11/01 in America's busiest city. I heard a country song about it yesterday in honor of Memorial Day.

3000 people died in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in August 2005. Extreme Makeover Home Edition just built a new church and pastor's home there last week.

4000 US troops have died in Iraq since the war's inception. The US spends more than the rest of the world combined on its military spending. It is arguably the most emphasized plank in the presidential campaign platform.

The death toll in China reached 60,000 today from the earthquake. Nearly 100,000 died after the Myanmar cyclone. We remember our nation's fallen in all its wars this weekend. We will not remember the date of the earthquake or the cyclone on Memorial Day 5 years from now. Those people are farther away. We feel for them, enough to utter how tragic it is that they've died while watching the evening news. Sure, people are people, but that's China.

Seven Minutes of Terror

2008-05-23T10:43:00.003-04:00

“Abraham and Isaac” by George Segal (b. 26 November 1924)

NASA is about to land a rover on Mars, and the engineers are anxious. They are departing from their recent success with air-bag landers, and trying to navigate with parachutes and rocket thrusters. There is a lot that can go wrong during the entry and soft landing. They've only been successful at landing on mars 55% of the time. That is great in baseball, but not so reassuring when millions of dollars and lots of science is at stake. The critical point in the 8 month journey is the landing - the contact with the atmosphere - the slowing down process. It takes roughly seven minutes to go from 13000 miles per hour to a complete stop, and everything has to go just right. For the engineers with careers on the line, it's seven minutes of terror, CNN says.

Seven minutes of terror. It was a good headline - it grabbed my attention. Fox might want to think about using that label for their international news spot. It could boost ratings. If I think back on my life, seven minutes of terror could aptly describe my experience as a 10 year old on Space Mountain in Disneyworld.

Or the time when my wife and I, when we were newlyweds, went on a canoe trip on a river in North Georgia. We had read in a guidebook that miners had drilled a shaft through a horshoe bend in the river. It was a few hundred yards from the entrance to the exit, at the elevation of the riverbank, and water flowed through the shortcut. "IF you can see daylight coming from the other side, odds are there are no dangerous obstructions." When we arrived, we anxiously debated whether to try it or not - how brave were we feeling? Was it worth the risk? Ah, to be young again. We pointed our canoes into the cave, and paddled forward.

It was like a real-live mine ride, minus the corporate liability prevention measures. We were instantly surrounded by blackness. The water picked up speed to a swift rapid pace, and so did our canoes. Several mid-shaft dropoffs added to the terror. Our paddles banged against the close, cold, wet rock. Our screams were not of the manufactured variety that you hear on a roller coaster to add to the fun; we were terrified, and the ride would not stop.

Our canoes tipped just before the current jetisoned us out the other side. We emerged bruised but otherwise unharmed, imagining all of the ways that the descent could have gone wrong. Seven minutes of terror.

I wonder what it was like for Abraham, when God asked him to sacrifice his son? Anxiety building, resolve wavering, exit considered, faith overcoming, all quietly kept in Abraham's heart. With each curious question of his son, the tears must have welled in Abraham's eyes, sucking the moisture from his already dry mouth and throat. And then, the moment when Isaac's curiousity unveiled the truth. There was no other sacrifice to offer. Dad is going to kill me as he serves our God. Seven minutes of terror, before the ram was produced and the story had a happy ending, all the while leaving the participants and the reader with a disturbing and innocence-killing aftertaste.

Oh, that we could promise the world only seven more minutes of terror. Oh, that the Janjaweed militias would have only seven minutes of numb destruction remaining. Oh, that the Lord's resistance army would have only seven minutes of child-soldier training left in their strategic plan of chaos. Oh, that there was only time for one more house-to-house search in Iraq. Oh, that a drunken father would come home angry for the last time, and after seven minutes of reckless searching, would pass out and later awaken to peace, repentance, and eternal sobriety.

Come quickly and provide us a ram, Oh God. Sacrifice our innocence if you must, but spare our children from another seven minutes of terror.

Risky Business

2007-11-07T23:29:00.001-05:00

Dreamer In Landscape, John Craxton

There are some religious texts that are beautiful. Others are historic. But then there are some that are just plain disturbing. They make you wrestle with them by the challenge they put forth. The challenge is easily dismissed upon first reading. We as humans tend to associate ourselves with the hero. Or the victim. But it is only rarely that we allow the text to penetrate our boundaries and sensibilities. We don't want it to be so, but it is so. Think about it. How often have the first lines of proclamation after Jesus' story of the rich young ruler been, "Now Jesus doesn't want us to give away half of what WE have. He's talking about whatever (ELSE) might be a barrier for you to serving God." Why the disclaimer in the sermon? Because we don't want our sacred scripture to challenge us THERE. Where it will absolutely hurt.

I'm gripped this evening by the parable of the Wedding Banquet in Matthew 22. I'm wrestling with it. At first glance, when a group of friends studied the passage this week, we saw ourselves as the King, I think. But the king isn't all that friendly throughout the whole thing. Then we realized that we were part invited guest, part afterthought guest, part servant, part inconsiderate guest. That's a much less comfortable place to be. Because we see then that the
parable is about choices, and choices are personal. Choices have consequences. Some choices earn us disdain. Others get us killed. A few may reap rewards. Some go unnoticed. Another gets us bound and thrown out where we thought we belonged all the time.

Part of me wants to tell my own story - a condensed version of the story of my life. I tell stories of my life all the time. But I leave out the details that don't read well. The Gospel writers told the stories of Jesus. They include the sordid details. Their stories offended because the subject of their stories was not out to keep everyone happy and unoffended. The subject, Jesus, told stories of a truth that brought freedom to the transparent and fear to the opaque.

I follow Jesus, or try to, I guess because for whatever reason he motivated a bunch of people to believe in him enough, to believe enough in what they saw of the kingdom of God that they suffered jail time and stoning for it. Paul told his own story - sordid details and all. The heights at which he lived, the sordid depths through which he trudged, the change that made all the difference. He told that story not so we would follow him, but so we would follow the one who sent him.

In 10 days I'll be telling another story - mostly my own. I wonder how transparent it will be. I hope it's worth the struggle. Jacob wrestled with the angel of God in the old testament. It got him into Genesis and got him a new name for he and his children. But the day before that struggle was the last day he ever walked without a limp.

2007-11-06T23:08:00.000-05:00

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. But what difference does it make if you do not know the journey's destination? If you begin the journey on top of a mountain, the direction of the first step greatly affects the destination. By the time you reach the foot of the mountain, you may be a long, long way from your intended destination.