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Saturday, December 22, 2007
The fountain springs to life
I read the following this morning, and it was a good reminder of all that we have to celebrate in the birth of the preeminent Christ:
"We see that our whole salvation and all its parts are comprehended in Christ. We should therefore take care not to derive the least portion of it from anywhere else. If we seek salvation, we are taught by the very name of Jesus that it is 'of him.' If we seek any other gifts of the Spirit, they will be found in his anointing.
"If we seek strength, it lies in his dominion; if purity, in his conception; if gentleness, it appears in his birth. For by his birth he was made like us in all respects that he might learn to feel our pain.
"If we seek redemption, it lies in his passion; if acquittal, in his condemnation; if remission of the curse, in his cross; if satisfaction, in his sacrifice; if purification, in his blood; if reconciliation, in his descent into hell; if mortification of the flesh, in his tomb; if newness of life, in his resurrection; if immortality, in the same; if inheritance of the Heavenly Kingdom, in his entrance into heaven; if protection, if security, if abundant supply of all blessings, in his Kingdom; if untroubled expectation of judgment, in the power given to him to judge. In short, since rich store of every kind of good abounds in him, let us drink our fill from this fountain, and from no other." - John Calvin, Reformer extraordinaire (1509-1564)
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities--all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. Colossians 1:15-20
To think that this great fountain sprung to life in the form of a human infant, born into the meanest of circumstances is too much for my little mind to grasp. May we drink our fill with constant gratitude and awe.
"We see that our whole salvation and all its parts are comprehended in Christ. We should therefore take care not to derive the least portion of it from anywhere else. If we seek salvation, we are taught by the very name of Jesus that it is 'of him.' If we seek any other gifts of the Spirit, they will be found in his anointing.
"If we seek strength, it lies in his dominion; if purity, in his conception; if gentleness, it appears in his birth. For by his birth he was made like us in all respects that he might learn to feel our pain.
"If we seek redemption, it lies in his passion; if acquittal, in his condemnation; if remission of the curse, in his cross; if satisfaction, in his sacrifice; if purification, in his blood; if reconciliation, in his descent into hell; if mortification of the flesh, in his tomb; if newness of life, in his resurrection; if immortality, in the same; if inheritance of the Heavenly Kingdom, in his entrance into heaven; if protection, if security, if abundant supply of all blessings, in his Kingdom; if untroubled expectation of judgment, in the power given to him to judge. In short, since rich store of every kind of good abounds in him, let us drink our fill from this fountain, and from no other." - John Calvin, Reformer extraordinaire (1509-1564)
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities--all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. Colossians 1:15-20
To think that this great fountain sprung to life in the form of a human infant, born into the meanest of circumstances is too much for my little mind to grasp. May we drink our fill with constant gratitude and awe.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Tell me the story
Gather 'round, ye children, come
Listen to the old, old story
Of the power of death undone
By an infant born of glory
We tell a lot of stories at this time of year: there is the story about a stingy old curmudgeon who has a change of heart after being visited by spirits in the night; the one about a little boy, his BB-gun, and let's not forget the leg lamp; and of course the classic tale of a man in a red suit who delivers presents around the world with the help of flying reindeer. These stories warm our hearts and stir up nostalgic memories. But they aren't the stories that really matter. There is just one that does.
Make sure you take some time in the next few days to get out of the shopping rush, set aside the wrapping paper, turn down the Christmas music, and read or listen to the story once again. Hear it anew this year - not as just another familiar tale no different from the ones mentioned above - but as a magnificent, heart-wrenching, and humbling story written by the author and perfecter of our faith. Let it get your attention and utterly captivate you. Then tell the story to someone else - that is the only gift that truly matters.
Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!
NOTE: The lyrics above are from Andrew Peterson's "Behold the Lamb of God", one of the best ways I know to hear the old, old story again and anew.
Listen to the old, old story
Of the power of death undone
By an infant born of glory
We tell a lot of stories at this time of year: there is the story about a stingy old curmudgeon who has a change of heart after being visited by spirits in the night; the one about a little boy, his BB-gun, and let's not forget the leg lamp; and of course the classic tale of a man in a red suit who delivers presents around the world with the help of flying reindeer. These stories warm our hearts and stir up nostalgic memories. But they aren't the stories that really matter. There is just one that does.
Make sure you take some time in the next few days to get out of the shopping rush, set aside the wrapping paper, turn down the Christmas music, and read or listen to the story once again. Hear it anew this year - not as just another familiar tale no different from the ones mentioned above - but as a magnificent, heart-wrenching, and humbling story written by the author and perfecter of our faith. Let it get your attention and utterly captivate you. Then tell the story to someone else - that is the only gift that truly matters.
Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!
NOTE: The lyrics above are from Andrew Peterson's "Behold the Lamb of God", one of the best ways I know to hear the old, old story again and anew.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
It's IN the computer
Bonus points to anyone who gets the reference in the title of this blog.
I wanted to let you all know about a VERY helpful resource that I utilized in my previous post. It is called E-Sword (the catchy and clever tagline is "The Sword of the Lord with an Electronic Edge"). At the E-Sword website, you can download numerous translations of the Bible, as well as commentaries and Bible dictionaries - many of them for free.
I downloaded the English Standard Version of the Bible a couple of months ago, and have found the E-Sword to be incredibly helpful, especially when I'm writing or researching something in the Bible. There are so many things you can do with it - search by word, utilize Gospel parallels, compare translations - and there are also many Bible study tools and other things I have yet to explore. It's free, so go download it now. Start here... it's so simple!
And if you're wondering why I chose the ESV (and why I use it in general), please read John Piper's explanation.
I wanted to let you all know about a VERY helpful resource that I utilized in my previous post. It is called E-Sword (the catchy and clever tagline is "The Sword of the Lord with an Electronic Edge"). At the E-Sword website, you can download numerous translations of the Bible, as well as commentaries and Bible dictionaries - many of them for free.
I downloaded the English Standard Version of the Bible a couple of months ago, and have found the E-Sword to be incredibly helpful, especially when I'm writing or researching something in the Bible. There are so many things you can do with it - search by word, utilize Gospel parallels, compare translations - and there are also many Bible study tools and other things I have yet to explore. It's free, so go download it now. Start here... it's so simple!
And if you're wondering why I chose the ESV (and why I use it in general), please read John Piper's explanation.
Pondering Facebook (and many other things)
The following is drawn from the pages of my journal a couple of weeks ago, so it's rough and a bit rambling. More thoughts on the subject may be forthcoming, and I would especially appreciate hearing yours.
We had a lengthy conversation yesterday about Facebook [...] It left me with a lot to think about, and since certain people are expecting that I will think about it, so on this flight from Memphis to Milwaukee, that is what I intend to do.
We are creating this virtual universe, feeling like we are more connected than ever, enjoying the many wonders of technology and globalization... but have instant messaging and text messaging and now Facebook made our relationships any deeper, or have they simply enabled us to maintain countless shallow relationships that falsely satiate our hunger for deep connections and true intimacy?
Is virtual community true community? I can keep people at arm's length, choose to let a message sit in my inbox indefinitely, tailor my profile so that the world only knows what I want to tell.
Our mobile society has made leaving home a rite of passage - and there is something noble and adventurous about moving far away - something that so many of us have found attractive and inviting. We look at those who stay close to home as provincial, and we are constantly asking ourselves, "Where to next?" We are afraid to make a commitment to a job or a school or a community or a church - something better might come along, or we might just get tired of it.
There is a sense of pride in having a diverse group of friends in diverse places - though when it comes down to it I think most of us long to just spend our time with the likes of Monica, Joey, Ross and the gang at Central Perk. Having so many friends and family members scattered abroad creates relationships that are maintained on a convenience-basis, and decreases the number of truly loving influences we encounter in our everyday lives.
What good is Facebook? It serves some practical purposes - reminding me of people's birthdays, allowing me to get their contact information or find websites where they're blogging. I can see pictures of events I've been a part of or catch up on things I missed. I can generally keep tabs on what people are doing (which certainly borders on stalking, provides fuel for sinful gossip and opens the door for what easily becomes a hugely unprofitable waste of time). I can also get in touch with people quickly and easily - but doesn't that more often than not simply happen through some pretty empty interactions? Sure, the witty comment posted on a good friend's Facebook wall is fun, but does the quick "how's it going?" or worse yet "We should talk soon!" to someone you haven't talked to in years or someone whom you really should call actually accomplish anything? And why on earth is it so important for me to know what's going on in [random long-lost elementary school classmate]'s life?
But it's not just about Facebook [...] Truly living in community with people means that we must bear with one another in love - there must be patience with flaws and forgiveness of faults, there must be a dying to self for the sake of others. When many of our relationships consist of seeing each other a time or two a month, or just talking on the phone every several weeks, our love for one another cannot necessarily be tried, tested, have the chance to grow [...]
Scripture certainly doesn't suggest that we ought to aspire to independence. On the contrary, we are called to love sacrificially and to depend on one another:
For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another. Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness. Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Romans 12:4-16
And they devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. Acts 2:42-45
And of course - I Corinthians 13
Here end my thoughts for the day - now it is your turn. What are your thoughts on Facebook, friendship, community, love, and how it all relates to the the virtual reality where we find ourselves? Please post a comment here (this doubles as a shameless ploy to find out who is actually reading this blog).
We had a lengthy conversation yesterday about Facebook [...] It left me with a lot to think about, and since certain people are expecting that I will think about it, so on this flight from Memphis to Milwaukee, that is what I intend to do.
We are creating this virtual universe, feeling like we are more connected than ever, enjoying the many wonders of technology and globalization... but have instant messaging and text messaging and now Facebook made our relationships any deeper, or have they simply enabled us to maintain countless shallow relationships that falsely satiate our hunger for deep connections and true intimacy?
Is virtual community true community? I can keep people at arm's length, choose to let a message sit in my inbox indefinitely, tailor my profile so that the world only knows what I want to tell.
Our mobile society has made leaving home a rite of passage - and there is something noble and adventurous about moving far away - something that so many of us have found attractive and inviting. We look at those who stay close to home as provincial, and we are constantly asking ourselves, "Where to next?" We are afraid to make a commitment to a job or a school or a community or a church - something better might come along, or we might just get tired of it.
There is a sense of pride in having a diverse group of friends in diverse places - though when it comes down to it I think most of us long to just spend our time with the likes of Monica, Joey, Ross and the gang at Central Perk. Having so many friends and family members scattered abroad creates relationships that are maintained on a convenience-basis, and decreases the number of truly loving influences we encounter in our everyday lives.
What good is Facebook? It serves some practical purposes - reminding me of people's birthdays, allowing me to get their contact information or find websites where they're blogging. I can see pictures of events I've been a part of or catch up on things I missed. I can generally keep tabs on what people are doing (which certainly borders on stalking, provides fuel for sinful gossip and opens the door for what easily becomes a hugely unprofitable waste of time). I can also get in touch with people quickly and easily - but doesn't that more often than not simply happen through some pretty empty interactions? Sure, the witty comment posted on a good friend's Facebook wall is fun, but does the quick "how's it going?" or worse yet "We should talk soon!" to someone you haven't talked to in years or someone whom you really should call actually accomplish anything? And why on earth is it so important for me to know what's going on in [random long-lost elementary school classmate]'s life?
But it's not just about Facebook [...] Truly living in community with people means that we must bear with one another in love - there must be patience with flaws and forgiveness of faults, there must be a dying to self for the sake of others. When many of our relationships consist of seeing each other a time or two a month, or just talking on the phone every several weeks, our love for one another cannot necessarily be tried, tested, have the chance to grow [...]
Scripture certainly doesn't suggest that we ought to aspire to independence. On the contrary, we are called to love sacrificially and to depend on one another:
For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another. Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness. Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Romans 12:4-16
And they devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. Acts 2:42-45
And of course - I Corinthians 13
Here end my thoughts for the day - now it is your turn. What are your thoughts on Facebook, friendship, community, love, and how it all relates to the the virtual reality where we find ourselves? Please post a comment here (this doubles as a shameless ploy to find out who is actually reading this blog).
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Giving thanks
Thank you, Lord, for what has been given.
Thank you for what has wisely been withheld.
Thank you for what you've asked of me, and how you've equipped me to do it.
Thank you for my inadequacies and weaknesses.
Thank you for the times you've helped me see my sin.
Thank you for expanding my knowledge of your greatness and deepening my understanding of my need for you.
Thank you for what has wisely been withheld.
Thank you for what you've asked of me, and how you've equipped me to do it.
Thank you for my inadequacies and weaknesses.
Thank you for the times you've helped me see my sin.
Thank you for expanding my knowledge of your greatness and deepening my understanding of my need for you.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
A refrain for today
Give me Jesus
Give me Jesus
You can have all this world
But give me Jesus
- Fernando Ortega
But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith-- that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. Philippians 3:7-11
Give me Jesus
You can have all this world
But give me Jesus
- Fernando Ortega
But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith-- that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. Philippians 3:7-11
Monday, November 12, 2007
The blessing is in the doing
I believe that one of the ways God has demonstrated his love to us is by giving us his word. Not only has he given us a collection of his attributes, his expectations of us, evidence of his faithfulness, and a priceless description of the life of his most beloved Son - he has given us all of this in a document that is living and active. As a result, even the most familiar passages can speak to us in new and different ways as we look more closely and strive to walk more closely with Him. This happened for me a couple of weeks ago.
The New Testament reading in the Episcopal lectionary for Sunday, November 4 was the Beatitudes. This is a passage that was familiar from childhood, thus I thought my pastor might focus on one of the other Scriptures for his sermon that day. Instead, he pressed into Jesus's words, using them to admonish and encourage all of us. The message I walked away with that day was simple, but it has continued to resonate.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.
Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
Matthew 5:3-12
Jesus promises that those who hurt, who suffer, who work to bring his kingdom here, who give all they have will be blessed and rewarded. These words have often brought comfort, hope, and a sense of purpose in difficult times, but they can also easily bring a sense of entitlement, or a skewed sense of what we should expect from God.
"Alright, God. I was kind to that guy who was a jerk to me. Where's my blessing?"
"My best friend died. I've mourned and kept on mourning. Aren't you going to bless me with a new friendship?"
"I've spent so much time serving the poor. Why aren't you taking away some of my financial burdens?"
But this type of blessing - that promised by the Prosperity Gospel and hoped for by our comfort-seeking instant gratification society - is not necessarily what Jesus was talking about. Jesus said, "Blessed are you when..."
The blessing doesn't come after the pain and sacrifice (though I do believe a greater reward will come in Heaven) - the blessing is in the pain and sacrifice. As my pastor said, "Doing good is the blessing."
When we do good, or when we are poor in spirit, mourning, meek, hungry for righteousness, merciful, pure in heart, making peace, or when we are persecuted, we are blessed.
Blessed because we are becoming more like Jesus.
Blessed because we are helping someone else to catch a glimpse of him.
Blessed because we are able to taste the Lord's goodness, and increase our reliance on him.
Blessed because we have an opportunity to trust and stand on his word, believing that because he said it, it is true, whether we feel it or not: blessed are you.
The New Testament reading in the Episcopal lectionary for Sunday, November 4 was the Beatitudes. This is a passage that was familiar from childhood, thus I thought my pastor might focus on one of the other Scriptures for his sermon that day. Instead, he pressed into Jesus's words, using them to admonish and encourage all of us. The message I walked away with that day was simple, but it has continued to resonate.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.
Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
Matthew 5:3-12
Jesus promises that those who hurt, who suffer, who work to bring his kingdom here, who give all they have will be blessed and rewarded. These words have often brought comfort, hope, and a sense of purpose in difficult times, but they can also easily bring a sense of entitlement, or a skewed sense of what we should expect from God.
"Alright, God. I was kind to that guy who was a jerk to me. Where's my blessing?"
"My best friend died. I've mourned and kept on mourning. Aren't you going to bless me with a new friendship?"
"I've spent so much time serving the poor. Why aren't you taking away some of my financial burdens?"
But this type of blessing - that promised by the Prosperity Gospel and hoped for by our comfort-seeking instant gratification society - is not necessarily what Jesus was talking about. Jesus said, "Blessed are you when..."
The blessing doesn't come after the pain and sacrifice (though I do believe a greater reward will come in Heaven) - the blessing is in the pain and sacrifice. As my pastor said, "Doing good is the blessing."
When we do good, or when we are poor in spirit, mourning, meek, hungry for righteousness, merciful, pure in heart, making peace, or when we are persecuted, we are blessed.
Blessed because we are becoming more like Jesus.
Blessed because we are helping someone else to catch a glimpse of him.
Blessed because we are able to taste the Lord's goodness, and increase our reliance on him.
Blessed because we have an opportunity to trust and stand on his word, believing that because he said it, it is true, whether we feel it or not: blessed are you.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
A lesson on wheels
Confession: I can't skate.
This will not come as a surprise to many of you, as you are already aware of my complete and utter lack of any sort of athletic ability.
This did, however, come as something of a surprise - and a great source of amusement - when a few of us took the girls from the youth group at church (better known as "The Monday Girls" since we meet on Monday evenings) rollerskating at the rink near church. I hadn't been on skates in years, so I knew we were in for an interesting time.
We had the rink mostly to ourselves since we were there early, so Marquis, Ellen, Lisa, and the seven girls who were with us grabbed skates and were quickly flying around the rink, the girls showing off their abilities in spinning and backwards skating. I put my skates on and ever-so-gingerly made my way on to the rink, clinging to the wall for dear life. Lisa and Ellen grabbed my hands, pulling me around the rink a few times as I hesitantly shuffled my feet. Doesn't anyone else think that if God had meant for us to have wheels attached to our bodies, he would have made that happen naturally?
Around and around we went, me at about one quarter of the speed of everyone else, which didn't matter too much to me. Since there weren't many folks on the floor, we could all see each other and laugh and talk across the rink. Gradually, I started to get a bit more comfortable and my legs started to loosen up a little. I laughed (apparently a little too hard) when one of the girls hit the floor while trying to do a fancy stunt.
I shouldn't have laughed at her.
Before she could even start to get up, I went down, HARD. I was shocked. I was in pain. I was thankful that God, in his wisdom, had given us padding on our backsides. Almost immediately, I was surrounded. The girls were worried for a moment, but as soon as they realized that nothing was broken they went back to tooling around the circle. Ellen and Lisa hovered over me as I got my bearings and fought off the tears that threatened to come (it hurt!). Marquis and the rink guard helped pull me up off the floor and get me back to the carpet.
The rink guard, a good friend of Marquis's, had been combining good-natured teasing with genuinely kind offers of instruction all evening. Now he saw his chance. After the initial pain wore off, I let him take me out onto the rink to try to help me skate. Rather than skating alongside me, he pushed from behind, ready to catch me the next time I fell (which I did promptly), but making me feel completely unsteady and out of control. After a couple trips around the circle, I convinced him I could handle this on my own - though handling it on my own, at that point, meant cozying up to the wall and moving as little as possible.
Fortunately, the girls wouldn't let me off the hook so easily. Mikaya sailed by, grabbed my hand, and pulled me on to the rink. "Come on, you can do it. Loosen up! Bend your knees! Come on! Bend 'em! Now you've gotta pick up your feet... ok... ok... a little more... PICK UP YOUR FEET!... there.... ok... push... push... bend your knees, it's ok!... pick up your feet... pick up your other foot... you're gettin' it..." And I was getting it, but what was happening at that moment was much more significant than me getting comfortable on skates.
I've spent the last three years getting to know Mikaya and her family. Her mom is raising five kids on her own while the father of her three sons, Mikaya's baby brothers, is in prison. Most of the time, I am the one with something to give to this family: a ride for Mikaya and her sister Tiara, some time spent cuddling with little Levi or holding baby Trey, encouragement and prayers for their mom, and most of all lessons on God and life for the girls. But now, rolling around this smooth oval, Mikaya had an ability that I lacked; she had something I needed, and I would not succeed without her patient teaching and willingness to skate along beside me.
Going to my church and spending time with these kids, it is easy to forget that I don't have it all figured out, that I am not without my own areas of weakness and need for other people. But here, in my time of need and weakness, Mikaya had the opportunity to grab my hand and know the joy of sharing what she has to help someone else who does not have.
The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you," nor again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you." On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable... God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. I Corinthians 13:21-25
My feet needed Mikaya's hand that day - the one whom I usually view as weaker was indispensable. Here, as the body of Christ glided around a skating rink, we were reminded that caring goes both ways.
Maybe God did intend for us to be on skates after all.
This will not come as a surprise to many of you, as you are already aware of my complete and utter lack of any sort of athletic ability.
This did, however, come as something of a surprise - and a great source of amusement - when a few of us took the girls from the youth group at church (better known as "The Monday Girls" since we meet on Monday evenings) rollerskating at the rink near church. I hadn't been on skates in years, so I knew we were in for an interesting time.
We had the rink mostly to ourselves since we were there early, so Marquis, Ellen, Lisa, and the seven girls who were with us grabbed skates and were quickly flying around the rink, the girls showing off their abilities in spinning and backwards skating. I put my skates on and ever-so-gingerly made my way on to the rink, clinging to the wall for dear life. Lisa and Ellen grabbed my hands, pulling me around the rink a few times as I hesitantly shuffled my feet. Doesn't anyone else think that if God had meant for us to have wheels attached to our bodies, he would have made that happen naturally?
Around and around we went, me at about one quarter of the speed of everyone else, which didn't matter too much to me. Since there weren't many folks on the floor, we could all see each other and laugh and talk across the rink. Gradually, I started to get a bit more comfortable and my legs started to loosen up a little. I laughed (apparently a little too hard) when one of the girls hit the floor while trying to do a fancy stunt.
I shouldn't have laughed at her.
Before she could even start to get up, I went down, HARD. I was shocked. I was in pain. I was thankful that God, in his wisdom, had given us padding on our backsides. Almost immediately, I was surrounded. The girls were worried for a moment, but as soon as they realized that nothing was broken they went back to tooling around the circle. Ellen and Lisa hovered over me as I got my bearings and fought off the tears that threatened to come (it hurt!). Marquis and the rink guard helped pull me up off the floor and get me back to the carpet.
The rink guard, a good friend of Marquis's, had been combining good-natured teasing with genuinely kind offers of instruction all evening. Now he saw his chance. After the initial pain wore off, I let him take me out onto the rink to try to help me skate. Rather than skating alongside me, he pushed from behind, ready to catch me the next time I fell (which I did promptly), but making me feel completely unsteady and out of control. After a couple trips around the circle, I convinced him I could handle this on my own - though handling it on my own, at that point, meant cozying up to the wall and moving as little as possible.
Fortunately, the girls wouldn't let me off the hook so easily. Mikaya sailed by, grabbed my hand, and pulled me on to the rink. "Come on, you can do it. Loosen up! Bend your knees! Come on! Bend 'em! Now you've gotta pick up your feet... ok... ok... a little more... PICK UP YOUR FEET!... there.... ok... push... push... bend your knees, it's ok!... pick up your feet... pick up your other foot... you're gettin' it..." And I was getting it, but what was happening at that moment was much more significant than me getting comfortable on skates.
I've spent the last three years getting to know Mikaya and her family. Her mom is raising five kids on her own while the father of her three sons, Mikaya's baby brothers, is in prison. Most of the time, I am the one with something to give to this family: a ride for Mikaya and her sister Tiara, some time spent cuddling with little Levi or holding baby Trey, encouragement and prayers for their mom, and most of all lessons on God and life for the girls. But now, rolling around this smooth oval, Mikaya had an ability that I lacked; she had something I needed, and I would not succeed without her patient teaching and willingness to skate along beside me.
Going to my church and spending time with these kids, it is easy to forget that I don't have it all figured out, that I am not without my own areas of weakness and need for other people. But here, in my time of need and weakness, Mikaya had the opportunity to grab my hand and know the joy of sharing what she has to help someone else who does not have.
The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you," nor again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you." On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable... God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. I Corinthians 13:21-25
My feet needed Mikaya's hand that day - the one whom I usually view as weaker was indispensable. Here, as the body of Christ glided around a skating rink, we were reminded that caring goes both ways.
Maybe God did intend for us to be on skates after all.
A little inspiration from Henri
Writing... is often the source of great pain and anxiety. It is remarkable how hard it is for students to sit down quietly and trust their own creativity. There seems to be a deep-seated resistance to writing. I have experienced this resistance myself over and over again. Even after many years of writing, I experience real fear when I face an empty page. Why am I so afraid? Sometimes I have an imaginary reader in mind who is looking over my shoulder and rejecting every word I write down. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the countless books and articles that already have been written and I cannot imagine that I have anything else to say that hasn't already been said better by someone else. Sometimes it seems that every sentence fails to express what I really want to say and that written words simply cannot hold what goes on in my mind and heart. So there are many fears and not seldom they paralyze me and make me delay or even abandon my writing plans.
And still, every time I overcome these fears and trust not only my own unique way of being in the world, but also my ability to give words to it, I experience a deep spiritual satisfaction. I have been trying to understand the nature of this satisfaction. What I am gradually discovering is that in writing I come in touch with the Spirit of God within me and experience how I am led to new places...
Writing is a process in which we discover what lives in us. The writing itself reveals to us what is alive in us. The deepest satisfaction of writing is precisely that it opens up new spaces within us of which we were not aware before we started to write. To write is to embark on a journey whose final destination we do not know. Thus, writing requires a real act of trust...
Henri Nouwen, "Reflections on Theological Education" (Quoted in Seeds of Hope: A Henri Nouwen Reader, edited by Robert Durback)
And still, every time I overcome these fears and trust not only my own unique way of being in the world, but also my ability to give words to it, I experience a deep spiritual satisfaction. I have been trying to understand the nature of this satisfaction. What I am gradually discovering is that in writing I come in touch with the Spirit of God within me and experience how I am led to new places...
Writing is a process in which we discover what lives in us. The writing itself reveals to us what is alive in us. The deepest satisfaction of writing is precisely that it opens up new spaces within us of which we were not aware before we started to write. To write is to embark on a journey whose final destination we do not know. Thus, writing requires a real act of trust...
Henri Nouwen, "Reflections on Theological Education" (Quoted in Seeds of Hope: A Henri Nouwen Reader, edited by Robert Durback)
Catching up
To the few, the proud, the faithful readers of this blog:
I knew the fall had gone by quickly, but I logged onto my blog thinking it had only been a month or so since I had posted. Much to my dismay, the last post was entered on September 9 (and truth be told, I actually just officially posted it today).
I apologize for letting you down - I suppose a couple of you have missed knowing what's going on in my life and my head; more of you have probably missed having one more Internet-based means of procrastination. The good news is, I'm back. Let the party begin.
There have been many factors contributing to my lack of writing - the usual laziness when it comes down to actually formulating my thoughts enough to type them out, time spent on other ventures like writing next summer's YouthWorks devotional book and helping a friend find (and refine) the words that might compel others to a more sacrificial life, and a head so full of thoughts that I barely know where to begin. I'll give you a glimpse of some of the words that are floating around in my head right now:
Traveling
Returning
Giving
Visiting
Jail
Justice
Rollerskating
Sharing
Cooking
Cleaning
Roofing
Rain
Community
Communion
Grieving
Celebrating
Thinking
Learning
Teaching
Vulnerability
Safety
Trust
Goals
Direction
Wondering
Cheering
Loving
And there you have it - a brief summary of the last two months of my life. Now that I've got you up to speed, let's move on to more important things.
I knew the fall had gone by quickly, but I logged onto my blog thinking it had only been a month or so since I had posted. Much to my dismay, the last post was entered on September 9 (and truth be told, I actually just officially posted it today).
I apologize for letting you down - I suppose a couple of you have missed knowing what's going on in my life and my head; more of you have probably missed having one more Internet-based means of procrastination. The good news is, I'm back. Let the party begin.
There have been many factors contributing to my lack of writing - the usual laziness when it comes down to actually formulating my thoughts enough to type them out, time spent on other ventures like writing next summer's YouthWorks devotional book and helping a friend find (and refine) the words that might compel others to a more sacrificial life, and a head so full of thoughts that I barely know where to begin. I'll give you a glimpse of some of the words that are floating around in my head right now:
Traveling
Returning
Giving
Visiting
Jail
Justice
Rollerskating
Sharing
Cooking
Cleaning
Roofing
Rain
Community
Communion
Grieving
Celebrating
Thinking
Learning
Teaching
Vulnerability
Safety
Trust
Goals
Direction
Wondering
Cheering
Loving
And there you have it - a brief summary of the last two months of my life. Now that I've got you up to speed, let's move on to more important things.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
To know and to be known
Psalm 139 is a familiar passage to many. It comes to mind when a woman is carrying a new life inside of her, as a reminder that God is at work, knitting that new life together in her womb. These are verses to stand on when we need a reminder that God doesn't make junk - His creations are "fearfully and wonderfully made." There is also much comfort found in this chapter as it offers the assurance that no matter where we go, God is there. Beautiful words, indeed. Lately, this passage has taken on a different meaning for me, one that convicts more than it comforts. Let me explain my thoughts:
O LORD, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
God knows it all -- the good, the bad, the ugly. It is often easy for us to hide the bad and ugly from each other - so easy, in fact, that sometimes we forget that it's not hidden from God. David knew this:
If I say, "surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,"
even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as day;
for darkness is as light with you.
God knows me better than I know myself. He knows what I do, and he knows why I do it. Beyond that, He knows the implications of all I do and don't do, and how my words, thoughts, and actions influence my relationships with Him and others. HE KNOWS... and he always has:
... in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them.
I ponder all of this and am keenly aware of my sinful nature, of how often I am disobedient, untrusting. For a moment, I am ashamed, embarrassed, painfully aware of my distance from this perfect, holy God. But then I remember those two words: HE KNOWS, and I believe He will be gracious enough to share what He knows. David's final words in this chapter have become my plea:
Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting!
If left to my own devices, I would be on the way to destruction. But God is gracious and has not abandoned me here: he reveals to me, little by little, that which He knows so well, and uses that knowledge to direct my path.
O LORD, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
God knows it all -- the good, the bad, the ugly. It is often easy for us to hide the bad and ugly from each other - so easy, in fact, that sometimes we forget that it's not hidden from God. David knew this:
If I say, "surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,"
even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as day;
for darkness is as light with you.
God knows me better than I know myself. He knows what I do, and he knows why I do it. Beyond that, He knows the implications of all I do and don't do, and how my words, thoughts, and actions influence my relationships with Him and others. HE KNOWS... and he always has:
... in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them.
I ponder all of this and am keenly aware of my sinful nature, of how often I am disobedient, untrusting. For a moment, I am ashamed, embarrassed, painfully aware of my distance from this perfect, holy God. But then I remember those two words: HE KNOWS, and I believe He will be gracious enough to share what He knows. David's final words in this chapter have become my plea:
Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting!
If left to my own devices, I would be on the way to destruction. But God is gracious and has not abandoned me here: he reveals to me, little by little, that which He knows so well, and uses that knowledge to direct my path.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Am I bearing the burden?
The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbor’s glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken. It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship… And our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner – no mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses… in him also Christ vere latitat – the glorifier and the glorified, Glory Himself, is truly hidden. - CS Lewis, "The Weight of Glory"
Every summer, the vast majority of my time, energy, and prayers are devoted to sixteen people. Most of these people were unknown to me prior to the summer, and there's never a guarantee as to what our relationships will look like after the summer. Nonetheless, this little flock quickly becomes "mine," and their success and growth in Christ become my top priorities. I am always on the lookout for ways to encourage and help, I seek the strength and patience that will enable me to lead them in a loving way - even when love does not come so easily, and their needs are the constant focus of my prayers. I strive to make Paul's words my own, that I would "most gladly spend and be spent for [their] soul[s]" (2 Corinthians 12:15).
I wish that I could honestly say the same were true of my efforts to love my family, my friends, and those I encounter on a regular basis. Do I look for ways to encourage and help? Do I pray for strength and patience that I might truly be long-suffering over the years, or do I simply distance myself when love becomes costly? Do I pray for these people who are so important to me, and do I make myself available for God to use me as an answer to those prayers? Can I honestly say that I will gladly spend and be spent for their souls, or have I become a relational tightwad?
I am not satisfied with my own answers to these questions.
Every summer, the vast majority of my time, energy, and prayers are devoted to sixteen people. Most of these people were unknown to me prior to the summer, and there's never a guarantee as to what our relationships will look like after the summer. Nonetheless, this little flock quickly becomes "mine," and their success and growth in Christ become my top priorities. I am always on the lookout for ways to encourage and help, I seek the strength and patience that will enable me to lead them in a loving way - even when love does not come so easily, and their needs are the constant focus of my prayers. I strive to make Paul's words my own, that I would "most gladly spend and be spent for [their] soul[s]" (2 Corinthians 12:15).
I wish that I could honestly say the same were true of my efforts to love my family, my friends, and those I encounter on a regular basis. Do I look for ways to encourage and help? Do I pray for strength and patience that I might truly be long-suffering over the years, or do I simply distance myself when love becomes costly? Do I pray for these people who are so important to me, and do I make myself available for God to use me as an answer to those prayers? Can I honestly say that I will gladly spend and be spent for their souls, or have I become a relational tightwad?
I am not satisfied with my own answers to these questions.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Even though You're here...
I think I have discovered a song I could handle having stuck in my head permanently.
I just got the new Shane & Shane CD, Pages, and after playing it a few times, I'm ready to say it's some of their best work yet. I'd been waiting for this CD to be released since I heard some of their new music in concert last fall, and now it's finally here.
These lyrics are captivating; I'll say nothing more.
Awaken what's inside of me.
Tune my heart to all You are in me.
Even though You're here, God come.
And may the vision of You be the death of me.
And even though you've given everything, Jesus come.
- "Vision of You"
I just got the new Shane & Shane CD, Pages, and after playing it a few times, I'm ready to say it's some of their best work yet. I'd been waiting for this CD to be released since I heard some of their new music in concert last fall, and now it's finally here.
These lyrics are captivating; I'll say nothing more.
Awaken what's inside of me.
Tune my heart to all You are in me.
Even though You're here, God come.
And may the vision of You be the death of me.
And even though you've given everything, Jesus come.
- "Vision of You"
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Safe (Also revisited)
WARNING: You will notice that under my blog title, "Carefully Chosen," I have written, "Perhaps this blog will make someone think differently. I hope that someone will be me." The following post is purely self-serving, so I won't make any apologies here for toes stepped on or feathers ruffled.
I wrote the following piece two years ago around this time, as a fresh-faced new suburb-dweller:
I have only lived in Birmingham, Alabama for about a year, and though that is not an excuse for ignorance or over-simplification, it somehow makes it easier for me to call things like I see them, more so than I can in a place like the Twin Cities of Minnesota, where I grew up. According to my cursory observation of the Birmingham area, the rich white people live around Highway 280, a major thoroughfare known for ridiculous traffic jams and a wealth of retail establishments, while everyone else – the poor, the black, and the Hispanic -- lives within the city limits or in one of the working-class suburbs. This polarity is evident whether one is driving, shopping, or dining out in one of these areas, or reading education and crime statistics in the Birmingham News.
I spent my first eleven months in Birmingham living with a few friends in an inner-city neighborhood called Ensley, a predominately lower-class African-American neighborhood. The street I lived on was a tree-lined boulevard, with beautiful large homes that had once been owned by members of upper management at the nearby steel mills. This once-prosperous neighborhood is now characterized by crime and poverty. When people heard that I, a young white woman, lived in Ensley, eyebrows were occasionally raised so high they blended into hairlines on both black and white foreheads. People immediately questioned my safety, and a few questioned my sanity.
The events and conversations of everyday life in Ensley quickly made it feel like home to me. Many a morning was spent drinking coffee and reading the paper on our front porch, waving and calling out greetings whenever a neighbor passed by on their daily stroll. Warm afternoons coaxed my housemates out to the front yard for a game of touch football with our neighbor boy William. Catching up on the six- and twelve-year-old lives of sisters Hope and Elvira from down the street was always entertaining, as were the frequent visits of David, a man with developmental disabilities who promised to stop by again the next day, but only “if it’s the Lord’s will!” And once the sun went down, neighborhood dogs carried local news through what surely must have been the “midnight bark” portrayed in 101 Dalmatians. The beauty of those small, ordinary moments countered the picture of ugliness that many had conjured up in their minds about a place like Ensley.
Considering my love for that neighborhood, I questioned my own sanity when it came time for me to move out and I decided to live with two other young women in Cahaba Heights, just off of 280. I didn’t think I would mind living there, since I would still be spending time in Ensley and in Fairfield, a neighboring community where I attend church and have many friends. But after only a couple of days living in my new place, I found myself wanting out. On a Saturday when I didn’t have any plans, the thought of staying close to home to do some shopping at The Summit or even sit at a nearby coffee shop was too much for me. I opted instead to drive to a coffee shop downtown, feeling much more at home among a diverse group of students, professionals, and the occasional homeless person than I did being surrounded by upper-class suburbanites. When my old neighbors in Ensley or folks in Fairfield ask me where I’m living now, I hesitate to tell them. I want to say, “I’m not one of ‘them,’ I don’t want to live like ‘they’ do, I don’t really belong in Cahaba Heights. I’d rather be here with you.”
A week after my coffee shop excursion, my roommates and I had some friends over for dinner, two of whom happen to live near us. The conversation turned to the perks of living in Cahaba Heights, but the talk wasn’t about the people, nor was it even about the beautiful surroundings of our woodsy neighborhood. Evidently, the best part of living here is that one can fulfill almost every consumer need and desire imaginable without even getting on the highway. Sitting and listening to this conversation made the fried chicken and baked beans in my stomach do a somersault. I will be the first to admit that I enjoy being less than a mile from the grocery store (especially after having to drive a good fifteen minutes for a decent one last year), and having Panera and Barnes & Noble so close will certainly benefit my mind and my stomach (though perhaps not my bank account), but I was dismayed to hear someone suggest that they get such joy from buying stuff with such ease and convenience. I was further disillusioned to realize that many of my neighbors would probably share her enthusiasm.
The next night, some friends were driving me home after a concert. All four of these friends grew up and now live in what I would classify as the “rich white suburban” areas of Birmingham. As we turned onto my street, one asked me, “Is this a safe neighborhood?” I tried not to laugh – and wasn’t entirely successful in that endeavor – as I wondered aloud, “Are you serious?” Apparently, it was an honest question, but one that seemed completely ridiculous to me, since I can’t quite imagine anything or anyone being un-safe in Cahaba Heights (I still find it slightly amusing that my roommate sets our security system every night before we go to bed, just so she can sleep better). Besides that, I just hadn’t expected to hear such a question again after moving out of Ensley.
On its surface, Cahaba Heights is the epitome of a safe place. It’s quiet, there’s not much traffic, and it’s a good distance from the inner-city, where poverty and desperation frequently lead to crime. My roommate’s dad takes comfort in knowing that the police and fire department here are one of the best in the area. It’s a cozy, familiar neighborhood for those who are from here, but unwelcoming to outsiders, with many winding roads, few clearly marked intersections, and barely any streetlights to help one find their way in the dark. Protected. Insulated. Children and families, most of them white and fairly well-off, nestled safely amongst the trees on mountain roads, out of harm’s way.
Yet for some reason the question nags at me: is this a safe neighborhood?
Is God’s creation safe here? Magnificent, tall trees are cut down one by one for new housing and retail developments. Residents drive to and from work in their cars and SUVs– most families have at least one per driver – sitting in traffic on 280, the only way to get to and from downtown Birmingham. Air quality alerts are a common occurance through several months of the year. Public transportation is not accessible enough to be a viable option for anyone commuting into the city from the suburbs, and narrow, poorly lit streets without sidewalks mean that walking and biking are out of the question for many. I doubt that I am alone in my selfish reluctance to make carpooling a habit. Rising gas prices may convince us to think twice about how much we drive, but we rarely consider the way our driving and living here leave a mark on the environment.
Are children safe here? Ask most parents in Cahaba Heights, Mountain Brook, or Vestavia this question and their answer will most likely be a resounding, idyllic “yes”. But would my children be safe here? Physically, yes, I know they would be. But their mental, emotional, and social development would suffer the effects of homogeneity and their impressionable young minds would fall victim to the persistent fear and judgment of the “Other” that is born of ignorance and so well incubated in a community like this one.
Are Christians safe here? When Jesus told his disciples to “Go,” he meant more than, “Leave your house in Cahaba Heights, go to work downtown with people from Cahaba Heights, go to church with people from Cahaba Heights, then go have some fellowship with people from Cahaba Heights.” Throughout the Bible, we are called to minister to the sick, the poor, the marginalized, the stranger. We are taught to pray that God’s Kingdom will come on earth as it is in Heaven, and that Kingdom will include people from every tribe, tongue, and nation; most of them, however, lack the social and financial means to ever inhabit or even visit a place like this. The Kingdom will not come to Cahaba Heights unless people from Cahaba Heights truly GO to serve and love as Jesus did, and as he commanded his followers to do. And there are some who do this – who lovingly and willingly give of their time, talents, and resources to serve those in Ensley, Fairfield, and places beyond. But few seem willing to really lay down their lives, to let go of their own safety in all its forms and identify with the mud and muck of someone else’s life. In the earthly sense, Christians are very safe here in Cahaba Heights. There are numerous churches, and plenty of fellow believers. But this brings me to another, more troubling question: should Christians be “safe” anywhere? Living as a follower of Christ means identifying with Christ in his sufferings, carrying our cross along with him, losing our life for his sake. None of that sounds safe to me. Christians are safe here, and that is a problem.
Finally, I have to ask, am I safe here? The truth is, I feel more at-risk here than I ever did living in Ensley. Granted, I would never go walking by myself at night there, nor would I leave my front door unlocked if I were home alone, but my soul felt safe there. Here, I risk so much: I risk giving into the temptation of running to the store for one more thing, or buying one more book, or going out to eat one more meal. I risk joining so many of my neighbors in working to earn money and living to spend it. I risk becoming comfortable and complacent here in this neighborhood, enjoying the convenience of having everything I “need” close to home. I risk neglecting the people I have grown to love so much, many of whom have never even traveled the fifteen miles across town to shop or see a movie at The Summit. I risk ignorance and losing touch with what I care about. I risk being lulled into the belief that safety and prosperity is the goal in life.
As I list these risks, my pulse quickens with a holy anger and the words come faster and faster. I want to turn around and run from the life to which the symbolic Cahaba Heights beckons me. But the truth is I don’t honestly believe that I am at risk here. The Cahaba Heights version of a “safe” life does not appeal to me. My Birmingham roots are planted deep in Ensley and Fairfield. Stretching beyond that, my roots stand firm in a diverse, humble neighborhood in St. Paul, Minnesota, in a backyard playground next to a crack house in Chicago, in a bustling orphanage in Oaxaca, Mexico, in a sidewalk-chalk-covered school parking lot in St. Louis, in the dusty roads of an overcrowded township in Cape Town, South Africa, and in an extended family that has never had enough money to try to buy away its troubles. My humanity, my very lifeblood, is dependent on those seemingly uncomfortable, unsafe communities in which I have lived and traveled, and on the relationships established there – whether they lasted for moments or a lifetime. I cling to a Gospel that commands me to live with these people and places in my heart and my mind, that calls me to hurt with them and for them, and that demands no less than the risk of going deep enough to love and be loved by them.
By the grace of God, I realize that I don’t belong here, that I am safe from the kind of life my new neighborhood wants to sell me. I pray that my actions will make that evident, so that when I tell people where I live, they will know that I am not about what my address represents. I hope that this year will also allow me the opportunity to invite those around me out of their safe lives and into something greater – to take up their Cross rather than live in their own comfort, to put down roots in soil that may be rocky or even tainted, and to seek the Lord not for safety but for sustenance.
Since I wrote this, I've become increasingly comfortable in my suburban surroundings. As I ran errands close to home today, I found myself relishing the ease and convenience of it all. I drove past a house for sale and a fleeting thought passed through my mind: "This would be a nice place to live. I could get used to this." I quickly batted that thought away as if it were an annoying fly.
A conversation tonight (which came about in a most unexpected way) led to talk of moving out of the suburbs to do incarnational ministry in the inner-city: living in the city, building relationships, being present to play ball and bake cookies, truly living out the sacrificial, Christ-filled life to which we are called. That was what I loved so much about my first year in Birmingham, and what I wanted so badly to hold on to even as my location changed the next year.
But now, I am ashamed to admit the truth with which Derek Webb's words ring in my ears:
poverty is so hard to see
when it’s only on your tv and twenty miles across town
where we’re all living so good
that we moved out of Jesus’ neighborhood
where he’s hungry and not feeling so good
from going through our trash
he says, more than just your cash and coin
i want your time, i want your voice
i want the things you just can’t give me
- "Rich Young Ruler"
Oh, Jenilyn, where have you gone? Why have you strayed so far from that which you care about most?
LORD, would you wake me from this all-too-cozy slumber? Remind me that I don't belong here. Bring me back to that most beautiful and paradoxical Gospel which I love so dearly. Make me willing and able to give all I have.
I wrote the following piece two years ago around this time, as a fresh-faced new suburb-dweller:
I have only lived in Birmingham, Alabama for about a year, and though that is not an excuse for ignorance or over-simplification, it somehow makes it easier for me to call things like I see them, more so than I can in a place like the Twin Cities of Minnesota, where I grew up. According to my cursory observation of the Birmingham area, the rich white people live around Highway 280, a major thoroughfare known for ridiculous traffic jams and a wealth of retail establishments, while everyone else – the poor, the black, and the Hispanic -- lives within the city limits or in one of the working-class suburbs. This polarity is evident whether one is driving, shopping, or dining out in one of these areas, or reading education and crime statistics in the Birmingham News.
I spent my first eleven months in Birmingham living with a few friends in an inner-city neighborhood called Ensley, a predominately lower-class African-American neighborhood. The street I lived on was a tree-lined boulevard, with beautiful large homes that had once been owned by members of upper management at the nearby steel mills. This once-prosperous neighborhood is now characterized by crime and poverty. When people heard that I, a young white woman, lived in Ensley, eyebrows were occasionally raised so high they blended into hairlines on both black and white foreheads. People immediately questioned my safety, and a few questioned my sanity.
The events and conversations of everyday life in Ensley quickly made it feel like home to me. Many a morning was spent drinking coffee and reading the paper on our front porch, waving and calling out greetings whenever a neighbor passed by on their daily stroll. Warm afternoons coaxed my housemates out to the front yard for a game of touch football with our neighbor boy William. Catching up on the six- and twelve-year-old lives of sisters Hope and Elvira from down the street was always entertaining, as were the frequent visits of David, a man with developmental disabilities who promised to stop by again the next day, but only “if it’s the Lord’s will!” And once the sun went down, neighborhood dogs carried local news through what surely must have been the “midnight bark” portrayed in 101 Dalmatians. The beauty of those small, ordinary moments countered the picture of ugliness that many had conjured up in their minds about a place like Ensley.
Considering my love for that neighborhood, I questioned my own sanity when it came time for me to move out and I decided to live with two other young women in Cahaba Heights, just off of 280. I didn’t think I would mind living there, since I would still be spending time in Ensley and in Fairfield, a neighboring community where I attend church and have many friends. But after only a couple of days living in my new place, I found myself wanting out. On a Saturday when I didn’t have any plans, the thought of staying close to home to do some shopping at The Summit or even sit at a nearby coffee shop was too much for me. I opted instead to drive to a coffee shop downtown, feeling much more at home among a diverse group of students, professionals, and the occasional homeless person than I did being surrounded by upper-class suburbanites. When my old neighbors in Ensley or folks in Fairfield ask me where I’m living now, I hesitate to tell them. I want to say, “I’m not one of ‘them,’ I don’t want to live like ‘they’ do, I don’t really belong in Cahaba Heights. I’d rather be here with you.”
A week after my coffee shop excursion, my roommates and I had some friends over for dinner, two of whom happen to live near us. The conversation turned to the perks of living in Cahaba Heights, but the talk wasn’t about the people, nor was it even about the beautiful surroundings of our woodsy neighborhood. Evidently, the best part of living here is that one can fulfill almost every consumer need and desire imaginable without even getting on the highway. Sitting and listening to this conversation made the fried chicken and baked beans in my stomach do a somersault. I will be the first to admit that I enjoy being less than a mile from the grocery store (especially after having to drive a good fifteen minutes for a decent one last year), and having Panera and Barnes & Noble so close will certainly benefit my mind and my stomach (though perhaps not my bank account), but I was dismayed to hear someone suggest that they get such joy from buying stuff with such ease and convenience. I was further disillusioned to realize that many of my neighbors would probably share her enthusiasm.
The next night, some friends were driving me home after a concert. All four of these friends grew up and now live in what I would classify as the “rich white suburban” areas of Birmingham. As we turned onto my street, one asked me, “Is this a safe neighborhood?” I tried not to laugh – and wasn’t entirely successful in that endeavor – as I wondered aloud, “Are you serious?” Apparently, it was an honest question, but one that seemed completely ridiculous to me, since I can’t quite imagine anything or anyone being un-safe in Cahaba Heights (I still find it slightly amusing that my roommate sets our security system every night before we go to bed, just so she can sleep better). Besides that, I just hadn’t expected to hear such a question again after moving out of Ensley.
On its surface, Cahaba Heights is the epitome of a safe place. It’s quiet, there’s not much traffic, and it’s a good distance from the inner-city, where poverty and desperation frequently lead to crime. My roommate’s dad takes comfort in knowing that the police and fire department here are one of the best in the area. It’s a cozy, familiar neighborhood for those who are from here, but unwelcoming to outsiders, with many winding roads, few clearly marked intersections, and barely any streetlights to help one find their way in the dark. Protected. Insulated. Children and families, most of them white and fairly well-off, nestled safely amongst the trees on mountain roads, out of harm’s way.
Yet for some reason the question nags at me: is this a safe neighborhood?
Is God’s creation safe here? Magnificent, tall trees are cut down one by one for new housing and retail developments. Residents drive to and from work in their cars and SUVs– most families have at least one per driver – sitting in traffic on 280, the only way to get to and from downtown Birmingham. Air quality alerts are a common occurance through several months of the year. Public transportation is not accessible enough to be a viable option for anyone commuting into the city from the suburbs, and narrow, poorly lit streets without sidewalks mean that walking and biking are out of the question for many. I doubt that I am alone in my selfish reluctance to make carpooling a habit. Rising gas prices may convince us to think twice about how much we drive, but we rarely consider the way our driving and living here leave a mark on the environment.
Are children safe here? Ask most parents in Cahaba Heights, Mountain Brook, or Vestavia this question and their answer will most likely be a resounding, idyllic “yes”. But would my children be safe here? Physically, yes, I know they would be. But their mental, emotional, and social development would suffer the effects of homogeneity and their impressionable young minds would fall victim to the persistent fear and judgment of the “Other” that is born of ignorance and so well incubated in a community like this one.
Are Christians safe here? When Jesus told his disciples to “Go,” he meant more than, “Leave your house in Cahaba Heights, go to work downtown with people from Cahaba Heights, go to church with people from Cahaba Heights, then go have some fellowship with people from Cahaba Heights.” Throughout the Bible, we are called to minister to the sick, the poor, the marginalized, the stranger. We are taught to pray that God’s Kingdom will come on earth as it is in Heaven, and that Kingdom will include people from every tribe, tongue, and nation; most of them, however, lack the social and financial means to ever inhabit or even visit a place like this. The Kingdom will not come to Cahaba Heights unless people from Cahaba Heights truly GO to serve and love as Jesus did, and as he commanded his followers to do. And there are some who do this – who lovingly and willingly give of their time, talents, and resources to serve those in Ensley, Fairfield, and places beyond. But few seem willing to really lay down their lives, to let go of their own safety in all its forms and identify with the mud and muck of someone else’s life. In the earthly sense, Christians are very safe here in Cahaba Heights. There are numerous churches, and plenty of fellow believers. But this brings me to another, more troubling question: should Christians be “safe” anywhere? Living as a follower of Christ means identifying with Christ in his sufferings, carrying our cross along with him, losing our life for his sake. None of that sounds safe to me. Christians are safe here, and that is a problem.
Finally, I have to ask, am I safe here? The truth is, I feel more at-risk here than I ever did living in Ensley. Granted, I would never go walking by myself at night there, nor would I leave my front door unlocked if I were home alone, but my soul felt safe there. Here, I risk so much: I risk giving into the temptation of running to the store for one more thing, or buying one more book, or going out to eat one more meal. I risk joining so many of my neighbors in working to earn money and living to spend it. I risk becoming comfortable and complacent here in this neighborhood, enjoying the convenience of having everything I “need” close to home. I risk neglecting the people I have grown to love so much, many of whom have never even traveled the fifteen miles across town to shop or see a movie at The Summit. I risk ignorance and losing touch with what I care about. I risk being lulled into the belief that safety and prosperity is the goal in life.
As I list these risks, my pulse quickens with a holy anger and the words come faster and faster. I want to turn around and run from the life to which the symbolic Cahaba Heights beckons me. But the truth is I don’t honestly believe that I am at risk here. The Cahaba Heights version of a “safe” life does not appeal to me. My Birmingham roots are planted deep in Ensley and Fairfield. Stretching beyond that, my roots stand firm in a diverse, humble neighborhood in St. Paul, Minnesota, in a backyard playground next to a crack house in Chicago, in a bustling orphanage in Oaxaca, Mexico, in a sidewalk-chalk-covered school parking lot in St. Louis, in the dusty roads of an overcrowded township in Cape Town, South Africa, and in an extended family that has never had enough money to try to buy away its troubles. My humanity, my very lifeblood, is dependent on those seemingly uncomfortable, unsafe communities in which I have lived and traveled, and on the relationships established there – whether they lasted for moments or a lifetime. I cling to a Gospel that commands me to live with these people and places in my heart and my mind, that calls me to hurt with them and for them, and that demands no less than the risk of going deep enough to love and be loved by them.
By the grace of God, I realize that I don’t belong here, that I am safe from the kind of life my new neighborhood wants to sell me. I pray that my actions will make that evident, so that when I tell people where I live, they will know that I am not about what my address represents. I hope that this year will also allow me the opportunity to invite those around me out of their safe lives and into something greater – to take up their Cross rather than live in their own comfort, to put down roots in soil that may be rocky or even tainted, and to seek the Lord not for safety but for sustenance.
Since I wrote this, I've become increasingly comfortable in my suburban surroundings. As I ran errands close to home today, I found myself relishing the ease and convenience of it all. I drove past a house for sale and a fleeting thought passed through my mind: "This would be a nice place to live. I could get used to this." I quickly batted that thought away as if it were an annoying fly.
A conversation tonight (which came about in a most unexpected way) led to talk of moving out of the suburbs to do incarnational ministry in the inner-city: living in the city, building relationships, being present to play ball and bake cookies, truly living out the sacrificial, Christ-filled life to which we are called. That was what I loved so much about my first year in Birmingham, and what I wanted so badly to hold on to even as my location changed the next year.
But now, I am ashamed to admit the truth with which Derek Webb's words ring in my ears:
poverty is so hard to see
when it’s only on your tv and twenty miles across town
where we’re all living so good
that we moved out of Jesus’ neighborhood
where he’s hungry and not feeling so good
from going through our trash
he says, more than just your cash and coin
i want your time, i want your voice
i want the things you just can’t give me
- "Rich Young Ruler"
Oh, Jenilyn, where have you gone? Why have you strayed so far from that which you care about most?
LORD, would you wake me from this all-too-cozy slumber? Remind me that I don't belong here. Bring me back to that most beautiful and paradoxical Gospel which I love so dearly. Make me willing and able to give all I have.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Now what? (Revisited)
To my YouthWorks friends,
At long last, we've reached the finish line. Another YouthWorks summer is in the history books. How does one recover from such a race?
A few summers ago, I sat down to really think about the answer to this question - it was one I had not answered well in summers prior. Exhausted from the race and unsure of how to get my life back to a normal pace, my bed often claimed the victory, with the couch and remote control coming in a close second. My journal and my Bible collected dust, and my phone sat idle as I wondered how to start a conversation that would allow me to really talk about my summer. Those were dry times, empty times, but not for lack of water -- only because I chose not to drink.
After running such a race, our bodies, minds, and souls desperately need a chance to drink, to breathe, to slow down. There are some simple - and some not-so-simple - ways to make this happen. The following may or may not closely resemble a to-do list, but I won't apologize for that. These things have certainly helped me, and I hope some of you may find them helpful as well.
SLEEP. By all means, sleep. You've done a number on your body with the hours you've kept this summer, and you've earned some quality time studying the backs of your eyelids.
DO NOTHING for a while. Give yourself permission. Trust me, it'll be okay.
PINCH YOURSELF. Yes friends, it may seem distant and surreal, but you did, in fact, spend your summer in a completely random place, hanging out with even more random people, doing things that might make some question your sanity (let's face it -- if people don't look at you funny when you tell them you slept on an air mattress on a school or church floor all summer, I might question their sanity). It may sound like bad reality TV, but it was reality. In fact, you probably came face-to-face with reality more often this summer than most people do in their "normal" lives. The past ten weeks were not a crazy dream, nor a nightmare, but simply another piece of your journey, appointed and anointed by our very gracious God.
PICK UP THE PHONE. Call someone who will get it -- someone from your staff or your area or around YouthWorks who will certainly understand how you're feeling. We've all just finished running a long hard race. Once you've done that, call someone who doesn't get it. Part of cooling down after a race is stretching. Stretch yourself here -- take the risk to share a bit of your summer with someone who may not understand or appreciate what you've experienced. You never know how a story you share might plant a thought or a question in someone's heart. This is an awesome opportunity to honor what the Lord has done this summer.
PRACTICE WHAT YOU PREACHED. Remember how we all admonished junior and senior highers to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God? How we encouraged them to serve with willing hearts and to be like Jesus? Those words don't just apply to them, nor do they lose value or importance when we're not in "mission trip mode." This might be another one of those stretching exercises for you.
PRACTICE WHAT YOU PRAYED FOR. You prayed for your participants, that their experience wouldn't end on Friday morning, that their YouthWorks week wouldn't be about emotion but about real life-change, that they would take lessons home with them and put them into action. This was your honest hope and desire for them -- how is this happening in your own life?
Most importantly, no matter what you do or how relaxed you may be, let there be NO SPIRITUAL VACATION. What did Jesus do when He had a break from the crowds? He spent time alone with his Father. Satan would love to get a hold of you right now -- to make you neglect the disciplines of prayer and Bible reading you established this summer, to lull you into complacency and make you forget how God changed you and how real and alive and close he was this summer. Know that God is as real and alive and present today as he was on any Thursday night this summer. He is just waiting for you to seek him out. As you do, ask him for what you need right now: help in processing this summer, guidance in preparing for what's next, wisdom for how to live today -- indeed, that's all you really need. Ask him for your daily bread, and come hungry.
Walk it off… that means you must keep moving forward. Stretch out, take a deep breath and a nice long drink, and when all is silent, listen for that still, small voice that will always be your best coach and your biggest fan.
At long last, we've reached the finish line. Another YouthWorks summer is in the history books. How does one recover from such a race?
A few summers ago, I sat down to really think about the answer to this question - it was one I had not answered well in summers prior. Exhausted from the race and unsure of how to get my life back to a normal pace, my bed often claimed the victory, with the couch and remote control coming in a close second. My journal and my Bible collected dust, and my phone sat idle as I wondered how to start a conversation that would allow me to really talk about my summer. Those were dry times, empty times, but not for lack of water -- only because I chose not to drink.
After running such a race, our bodies, minds, and souls desperately need a chance to drink, to breathe, to slow down. There are some simple - and some not-so-simple - ways to make this happen. The following may or may not closely resemble a to-do list, but I won't apologize for that. These things have certainly helped me, and I hope some of you may find them helpful as well.
SLEEP. By all means, sleep. You've done a number on your body with the hours you've kept this summer, and you've earned some quality time studying the backs of your eyelids.
DO NOTHING for a while. Give yourself permission. Trust me, it'll be okay.
PINCH YOURSELF. Yes friends, it may seem distant and surreal, but you did, in fact, spend your summer in a completely random place, hanging out with even more random people, doing things that might make some question your sanity (let's face it -- if people don't look at you funny when you tell them you slept on an air mattress on a school or church floor all summer, I might question their sanity). It may sound like bad reality TV, but it was reality. In fact, you probably came face-to-face with reality more often this summer than most people do in their "normal" lives. The past ten weeks were not a crazy dream, nor a nightmare, but simply another piece of your journey, appointed and anointed by our very gracious God.
PICK UP THE PHONE. Call someone who will get it -- someone from your staff or your area or around YouthWorks who will certainly understand how you're feeling. We've all just finished running a long hard race. Once you've done that, call someone who doesn't get it. Part of cooling down after a race is stretching. Stretch yourself here -- take the risk to share a bit of your summer with someone who may not understand or appreciate what you've experienced. You never know how a story you share might plant a thought or a question in someone's heart. This is an awesome opportunity to honor what the Lord has done this summer.
PRACTICE WHAT YOU PREACHED. Remember how we all admonished junior and senior highers to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God? How we encouraged them to serve with willing hearts and to be like Jesus? Those words don't just apply to them, nor do they lose value or importance when we're not in "mission trip mode." This might be another one of those stretching exercises for you.
PRACTICE WHAT YOU PRAYED FOR. You prayed for your participants, that their experience wouldn't end on Friday morning, that their YouthWorks week wouldn't be about emotion but about real life-change, that they would take lessons home with them and put them into action. This was your honest hope and desire for them -- how is this happening in your own life?
Most importantly, no matter what you do or how relaxed you may be, let there be NO SPIRITUAL VACATION. What did Jesus do when He had a break from the crowds? He spent time alone with his Father. Satan would love to get a hold of you right now -- to make you neglect the disciplines of prayer and Bible reading you established this summer, to lull you into complacency and make you forget how God changed you and how real and alive and close he was this summer. Know that God is as real and alive and present today as he was on any Thursday night this summer. He is just waiting for you to seek him out. As you do, ask him for what you need right now: help in processing this summer, guidance in preparing for what's next, wisdom for how to live today -- indeed, that's all you really need. Ask him for your daily bread, and come hungry.
Walk it off… that means you must keep moving forward. Stretch out, take a deep breath and a nice long drink, and when all is silent, listen for that still, small voice that will always be your best coach and your biggest fan.
He is faithful; may we be full of faith
But for me it is good to be near God; I have made the Lord GOD my refuge, that I may tell of your works. Psalm 73:28
If you talked to me, got an e-mail from me, or read my blog any time during the first half of 2007, you know that the search for YouthWorks housing in New Orleans largely consumed my work and my prayers during that time. Many of you joined me in those prayers, and for that I am grateful. Now, as my summer has come to a close and I've been reconnecting with people I haven't talked to in more than two months, the question has been asked several times: "What ever happened in New Orleans?" I answer that question here now, so that you will have the opportunity to join me in praising and thanking God for His faithfulness and provision, and in hopes that your own faith will be bolstered as mine has been.
After more phone calls, e-mails, and meetings than I could count (I can safely say that more than one hundred contacts were made in the process of looking for housing), we accepted an invitation from a small Evangelical Presbyterian church in Covington, Louisiana, which is on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain. We knew that this church would not be large enough to house all of our participants and staff, so were incredibly blessed to find a Lutheran church and school willing to house half of our groups, our staff, and our meals. I found myself amazed that God would provide not only one church, but two, and that these churches would not open their doors grudgingly, but with great joy and thanksgiving - even telling us that YouthWorks was an answer to their prayers! When we needed to leave the Lutheran church for a week while they ran VBS, the nearby Baptist church opened its doors to our groups. My staff joked about going from having no where to lay their heads to having three different churches where they and their groups could do so.
At Faith Presbyterian, Holy Trinity Lutheran and First Baptist (even though our stay there was short), my staff team found more than just a place to stay and do their work. They found friends and encouragers, people willing to do their laundry, bake them cookies, invite them into their homes. It didn't take long to realize what a warm, welcoming place Covington was. It also didn't take long to discover that this, too, was a place of brokenness and need. A police officer was killed during our first week in town. On the way to the cemetery for his funeral, another officer was killed when a tree fell on his car. This shook the small community deeply. As the summer went on, our staff learned of struggles in the church congregations they were quickly coming to love; perhaps the biggest blow was learning that one of our dearest friends in Covington had been diagnosed with leukemia. It is a strange thing to come to care about a place and its people so quickly, but it is indeed a privilege to be able to stand alongside these people and lift them up in prayer during their time of need. It was a gift, too, to be able to befriend communities on both sides of the lake.
Every day, staff and participants would pile into their vehicles, pay a $3 toll, and cross the 24-mile bridge over the lake. During the 45-minute drive into New Orleans and back, there was time for group bonding, reflection on the day, naps, and the chance to see a few beautiful sunsets. The drive was certainly not ideal, but more often than not the time on the road proved fruitful, and it also gave us a chance to remind our participants that doing ministry in New Orleans these days rarely happens in the most ideal, easy, or convenient way.
Across the lake, our staff and participants came to love a very broken city. Though we initially thought that most of our groups would not get the chance to do demolition work (as most organizations require skilled laborers now), by the end of the summer almost every participant who came through New Orleans had the opportunity to wield a crowbar and sledgehammer for a couple of days. A Kids Club that started with five kids the first week ended up with 40 for the last week of the summer. Our groups spent each Tuesday night touring the Lakeview district of New Orleans, hearing stories from a few of our friends who had been hit hard by Katrina, and imagining what it would be like if their families and neighbors lost everything.
Another unexpected blessing and provision this summer was the New Orleans Mission. Since we would be spending many evenings in New Orleans before going back to Covington, we needed a place for our groups to shower after their workday was done. I called the Mission three days before our first groups arrived in town. The director willingly opened his showers for us. I was concerned at first - how would our groups feel about taking their showers at a homeless shelter? Would they be uncomfortable, scared? My fears were alleviated almost immediately on the first day our groups showered there: the guys who live and work there greeted them warmly, pulling out snacks and bottles of Gatorade from a large stockpile of donations. The next day, the snacks and chilled drinks were ready and waiting upon our arrival, and the guys welcomed us like old friends. As the days went on, this continued, and our staff got to know the guys at the Mission well. Imagine my joy when I talked to one of my staff a couple of weeks later and heard, "It rained last night, so we had our cookout at the Mission instead of the park. It was awesome!" A place that I had been hesitant to even use as a shower facility had become a home-away-from home for our groups.
So, you ask "What ever happened in New Orleans"? To put it briefly: God provided. He didn't provide as quickly as I had wanted. He didn't provide the convenience I had wanted. He didn't make things as easy as I had wanted. None of that matters, though. God provided, and when God provides, He gives what is best, and there is no doubt in my mind that He provided the best for us in New Orleans (and beyond) this summer.
Thank you to those of you who prayed for that provision. Few things in my life have been prayed for so much and by so many; know that your prayers were not in vain. I trust that you will join me in praising God for all that He has done, and I hope and pray that His gracious faithfulness in this situation will be a reminder to you of His constant faithfulness - even in the face of our unbelief.
Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus, throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen! Ephesians 3:20-21
For those of you who would like to join me on a walk down memory lane, please see the following links for my New Orleans story:
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Kids these days
When I first applied to work for YouthWorks in the early spring of 2002 (that was a long time ago), I had little to no desire to actually work with youth. What was I thinking? I was thinking about the opportunity to live in a new community, to serve people, to have a cross-cultural experience. Youth ministry wasn't even an afterthought - it wasn't a thought at all for me. Yet one of YouthWorks' core values is that we are "youth minded;" we state "We love teenagers!... We do not believe youth are the church of tomorrow – they are part of the church today. They too, can do God’s work if we invite them to join us."
This is a value that has become engrained in me as I have seen it lived out time and again. I tend to forget that many adults in our society don't place much faith or hope in the youth of today. I also tend to forget how fortunate I am to spend my summers surrounded by teenagers who, for the most part, dispel the stereotypes of their generation. Indeed, I have seen several who truly heed Paul's advice to Timothy to "set an example for all believers."
I must acknowledge, though, and do so with sadness, that for every one who inspires me, there are ten who break my heart. Some are kids who pursue a life of just "getting by" as good Christians - they show up for church, go through the motions, but don't let anything sink in. They all too willingly meander down the wide road that is leading to destruction. Others are lost, wandering this world with no direction and no wise guides. Some have already been overtaken by the lies of Satan and this world, and constantly seek their worth and identity in stuff, in activities, in other people. None of these teenagers are beyond hope or help, but what truly grieves me is how few of them are finding that in their churches.
I am tired of seeing pastors and youth leaders feed their young people a watered down, relativistic gospel when what they so desperately need is good spiritual milk. I am disappointed in adults who abdicate their responsibility as role models and examples for these youth - instead choosing to join them in their frivilous pastimes and mediocre pursuits. I am sick of the fear of offense that keeps us from challenging our youth to live a higher, better, fuller life - that would certainly promise to be more meaningful and fulfilling than anything this fast-paced, consumer-driven, sex-crazed world could offer them.
I find solace and great inspiration in the words of John Piper in his book Don't Waste Your Life (which is a must-read):
"... we do not use the word cool to describe true greatness. It is a small word. That's the point. It's cheap. And it's what millions of young people live for. Who confronts them with urgency and tears? Who pleads with them not to waste their lives? Who takes them by the collar, so to speak, and loves them enough to show them a life so radical and so real and so costly and Christ-saturated that they feel the emptiness and triviality of their CD collection and their pointless conversations about passing celebrities? Who will waken what lies latent in their souls, untapped -- a longing not to waste their lives?"
Indeed, who is confronting these youth with urgency and tears? Sure, plenty are offering them entertainment, friendship, perhaps even a place to feel good about themselves, but how many are being offered the chance to dream about what life could be if they truly pursued things of eternal significance?
Oh Lord, may they taste and see your goodness. Incline their hearts towards you in the days of their youth, that they might come to know you and pursue you, trusting that you are worth more than all else.
This is a value that has become engrained in me as I have seen it lived out time and again. I tend to forget that many adults in our society don't place much faith or hope in the youth of today. I also tend to forget how fortunate I am to spend my summers surrounded by teenagers who, for the most part, dispel the stereotypes of their generation. Indeed, I have seen several who truly heed Paul's advice to Timothy to "set an example for all believers."
I must acknowledge, though, and do so with sadness, that for every one who inspires me, there are ten who break my heart. Some are kids who pursue a life of just "getting by" as good Christians - they show up for church, go through the motions, but don't let anything sink in. They all too willingly meander down the wide road that is leading to destruction. Others are lost, wandering this world with no direction and no wise guides. Some have already been overtaken by the lies of Satan and this world, and constantly seek their worth and identity in stuff, in activities, in other people. None of these teenagers are beyond hope or help, but what truly grieves me is how few of them are finding that in their churches.
I am tired of seeing pastors and youth leaders feed their young people a watered down, relativistic gospel when what they so desperately need is good spiritual milk. I am disappointed in adults who abdicate their responsibility as role models and examples for these youth - instead choosing to join them in their frivilous pastimes and mediocre pursuits. I am sick of the fear of offense that keeps us from challenging our youth to live a higher, better, fuller life - that would certainly promise to be more meaningful and fulfilling than anything this fast-paced, consumer-driven, sex-crazed world could offer them.
I find solace and great inspiration in the words of John Piper in his book Don't Waste Your Life (which is a must-read):
"... we do not use the word cool to describe true greatness. It is a small word. That's the point. It's cheap. And it's what millions of young people live for. Who confronts them with urgency and tears? Who pleads with them not to waste their lives? Who takes them by the collar, so to speak, and loves them enough to show them a life so radical and so real and so costly and Christ-saturated that they feel the emptiness and triviality of their CD collection and their pointless conversations about passing celebrities? Who will waken what lies latent in their souls, untapped -- a longing not to waste their lives?"
Indeed, who is confronting these youth with urgency and tears? Sure, plenty are offering them entertainment, friendship, perhaps even a place to feel good about themselves, but how many are being offered the chance to dream about what life could be if they truly pursued things of eternal significance?
Oh Lord, may they taste and see your goodness. Incline their hearts towards you in the days of their youth, that they might come to know you and pursue you, trusting that you are worth more than all else.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Enough said
If you don't point people to God for everlasting joy, you don't love. You waste your life.
- John Piper, Don't Waste Your Life
- John Piper, Don't Waste Your Life
Thursday, July 05, 2007
'Til I have words
I need words
As wide as sky
I need language large as
This longing inside
And I need a voice
Bigger than mine
And I need a song to sing You
That I've yet to find
I need You,
Oh, I need You
I need You,
Oh, I need You
To be here now
To be here now
To hear me now
To hear me now
"I need words" - David Crowder
Lately life has taken place in moments. There are snapshots of clarity, moments of brilliance or keen emotion. So much is taking place around me - at four YouthWorks sites, in four communities, in the lives of people I care about elsewhere, not to mention what is going on in my own heart and mind. I feel like everything inside of me can't keep up with what's going on around me, and as a result I know I've missed things - opportunities to pray, to praise, to pause and worship God.
I've been unable to verbalize, to articulate, to put into words what I am experiencing, and as a result I feel disconnected from these very experiences. I don't know why the words haven't come; it has not been for lack of time or trying. God has been gracious though, to give me something to grasp onto: songs. A few songs have consistently been in my head over the past six weeks of the summer, and as I've heard them in my head or hummed them while I washed dishes or belted them out in the car, they have brought both comfort and conviction, and allowed me some small outlet for all that is so nebulous within me.
Dearly we're bought
Highly esteemed
Redeemed by Jesus blood, redeemed
"Dearly we're bought" - Joseph Hart (Red Mountain Church, The Gadsby Project)
Captivate us, Lord Jesus
Set our eyes on You
Devastate us with Your presence
Falling down
And rushing river, draw us nearer
Holy fountain consume us with You
Captivate us Lord Jesus, with You
"Captivate Us" - Watermark
‘cause i haven’t come for only you
but for my people to pursue
you cannot care for me with no regard for her
if you love me you will love the church
"The Church" - Derek Webb
Savior
He can move the mountains
My God is Mighty to save
He is Mighty to save
Forever
Author of salvation
He rose and conquered the grave
Jesus conquered the grave
"Mighty to Save" - Hillsong
I will continue singing these songs as I pray and trust that God will bring clarity and direction for my own words one of these days.
Oh, I need You
To be here now
To be here now
To hear me now
To hear me now
As wide as sky
I need language large as
This longing inside
And I need a voice
Bigger than mine
And I need a song to sing You
That I've yet to find
I need You,
Oh, I need You
I need You,
Oh, I need You
To be here now
To be here now
To hear me now
To hear me now
"I need words" - David Crowder
Lately life has taken place in moments. There are snapshots of clarity, moments of brilliance or keen emotion. So much is taking place around me - at four YouthWorks sites, in four communities, in the lives of people I care about elsewhere, not to mention what is going on in my own heart and mind. I feel like everything inside of me can't keep up with what's going on around me, and as a result I know I've missed things - opportunities to pray, to praise, to pause and worship God.
I've been unable to verbalize, to articulate, to put into words what I am experiencing, and as a result I feel disconnected from these very experiences. I don't know why the words haven't come; it has not been for lack of time or trying. God has been gracious though, to give me something to grasp onto: songs. A few songs have consistently been in my head over the past six weeks of the summer, and as I've heard them in my head or hummed them while I washed dishes or belted them out in the car, they have brought both comfort and conviction, and allowed me some small outlet for all that is so nebulous within me.
Dearly we're bought
Highly esteemed
Redeemed by Jesus blood, redeemed
"Dearly we're bought" - Joseph Hart (Red Mountain Church, The Gadsby Project)
Captivate us, Lord Jesus
Set our eyes on You
Devastate us with Your presence
Falling down
And rushing river, draw us nearer
Holy fountain consume us with You
Captivate us Lord Jesus, with You
"Captivate Us" - Watermark
‘cause i haven’t come for only you
but for my people to pursue
you cannot care for me with no regard for her
if you love me you will love the church
"The Church" - Derek Webb
Savior
He can move the mountains
My God is Mighty to save
He is Mighty to save
Forever
Author of salvation
He rose and conquered the grave
Jesus conquered the grave
"Mighty to Save" - Hillsong
I will continue singing these songs as I pray and trust that God will bring clarity and direction for my own words one of these days.
Oh, I need You
To be here now
To be here now
To hear me now
To hear me now
Thursday, June 28, 2007
A prayer for the second half
At this time last summer, I still had one more week before all of my sites were even up and running. Tomorrow, my sites will wrap up their second, third, or fourth week of programming, and I am proud to say that they are all doing quite well. That means that my role is changing. No longer am I coaching and critiquing; now I get to turn my attention to supporting, encouraging, listening, affirming. I love this part of my job, even though the lack of structure and clear direction can be daunting.
Who then is the faithful and wise servant, whom his master has set over his household, to give them their food at the proper time? Blessed is that servant whom his master will find so doing when he comes. Matthew 24:45-46
LORD, you have set me over this precious sixteen-person household. Equip me to be a faithful and wise servant, giving these beautiful sons and daughters of yours their food at the proper time. May they be nourished by your word, your spirit, and your glory displayed in their participants, their communities, and their teammates.
Who then is the faithful and wise servant, whom his master has set over his household, to give them their food at the proper time? Blessed is that servant whom his master will find so doing when he comes. Matthew 24:45-46
LORD, you have set me over this precious sixteen-person household. Equip me to be a faithful and wise servant, giving these beautiful sons and daughters of yours their food at the proper time. May they be nourished by your word, your spirit, and your glory displayed in their participants, their communities, and their teammates.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
O Let Me Ne'er Forget
On Tuesday night, my New Orleans staff team led their participants on YouthWorks' first ever Katrina Prayer Tour. A couple of locals and dear friends shared their stories with the group, then we headed out into the Lakeview neighborhood where we saw evidence of Katrina's devastation as well as signs of hope. Clouds gathered as we drove along the bumpy, pot-holed streets. When we pulled up to the park on the lakeshore, our destination for dinner and debriefing, thunder rumbled quietly, lighting flashed far off, and beams of sun pushed their way through dark clouds. The darkness of an impending storm and the light of the sun met in the sky above us, much as darkness and light mingled in the neighborhood we had just toured.
At Club that night, we sang the following song, and the words could not have been more fitting for such a day:
This is my Father's world,
and to my listening ears
all nature sings,
and round me rings
the music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world: I
rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees,
of skies and seas;
his hand the wonders wrought.
This is my Father's world,
the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily white,
declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world:
he shines in all that's fair;
in the rustling grass I hear him pass;
he speaks to me everywhere.
This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!
At Club that night, we sang the following song, and the words could not have been more fitting for such a day:
This is my Father's world,
and to my listening ears
all nature sings,
and round me rings
the music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world: I
rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees,
of skies and seas;
his hand the wonders wrought.
This is my Father's world,
the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily white,
declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world:
he shines in all that's fair;
in the rustling grass I hear him pass;
he speaks to me everywhere.
This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!
Sunday, June 03, 2007
May every day end this way
Yesterday was a busy one as my sixteen staff and I made final preparations for our Early Bird week - the first week of programming (which doubles as the final component of YouthWorks training) at our site in Bayou La Batre, Alabama. We had a long morning at Sam's Club, a full afternoon of planning, practicing, cleaning, and tying up loose ends. The day didn't flow as smoothly or feel as productive as I had originally hoped, but all in all it was fine. Eating a Cajun feast of jambalaya and boiled shrimp cooked by our friend Robert was a great way to end the day (few things bring me more happiness than eating Cajun cuisine), and a stop at Sonic on the way home was icing on the cake - or a cherry in the slush, as it were. As I walked from my car to the community center where we stay, I concluded that it had been a good day. But God wasn't done yet.
Come, bless the LORD, all you servants of the LORD,
who stand by night in the house of the LORD!
Lift up your hands to the holy place
and bless the LORD!
Psalm 134:1-2
I opened the door and heard a guitar being played, coupled with the unmistakable beat of a djembe drum. At first I thought a couple of my staff were just having a little jam session. As I walked farther in, I realized that in the darkness of the cavernous gym, several of my staff had gathered together in worship and were singing their hearts out to the One who had called them into this harrowing, exhausting, undoubtedly life-altering adventure this summer.
The joy that stirred within me as I paced around this gym-turned-sanctuary led me to imagine the great delight that our God must take in the praises of his children. How right and good that He be lifted up and exalted in this place. I found myself humbled, knowing that this was nothing I had planned or put on any agenda - yet nothing could have been more important for these staff at that moment. I was reminded of what is most important: more than leading a meal crew well, more than giving a thorough orientation, more than having every sign hung perfectly, I want these staff to be pursuing and exalting God's glory, to know Him and hunger to know Him more, to be in a constant attitude of worship.
As I reflect this morning, I find comfort in Jesus's admonition to Martha:
"Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her." Luke 10:41-42
There are many tasks and details and relationships to juggle in a YouthWorks summer. I pray that at the end of each day, there would be just one thing on the hearts and minds of my staff.
Come, bless the LORD, all you servants of the LORD,
who stand by night in the house of the LORD!
Lift up your hands to the holy place
and bless the LORD!
Psalm 134:1-2
I opened the door and heard a guitar being played, coupled with the unmistakable beat of a djembe drum. At first I thought a couple of my staff were just having a little jam session. As I walked farther in, I realized that in the darkness of the cavernous gym, several of my staff had gathered together in worship and were singing their hearts out to the One who had called them into this harrowing, exhausting, undoubtedly life-altering adventure this summer.
The joy that stirred within me as I paced around this gym-turned-sanctuary led me to imagine the great delight that our God must take in the praises of his children. How right and good that He be lifted up and exalted in this place. I found myself humbled, knowing that this was nothing I had planned or put on any agenda - yet nothing could have been more important for these staff at that moment. I was reminded of what is most important: more than leading a meal crew well, more than giving a thorough orientation, more than having every sign hung perfectly, I want these staff to be pursuing and exalting God's glory, to know Him and hunger to know Him more, to be in a constant attitude of worship.
As I reflect this morning, I find comfort in Jesus's admonition to Martha:
"Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her." Luke 10:41-42
There are many tasks and details and relationships to juggle in a YouthWorks summer. I pray that at the end of each day, there would be just one thing on the hearts and minds of my staff.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
In this posture let me live
Dear Reader: I wrote the following a couple of weeks ago. The feelings expressed here - especially those of discouragement - are not necessarily the feelings I have today. Since my conclusion remains the same, I post this in spite of evolving emotions, with a promise to write more as I continue to reflect and as God's will continues to unfold through his daily provision.
Anyone who has talked to me in the past month or two knows that our search for YouthWorks housing in New Orleans has consumed much of my time, my thought, my energy, and my travel this spring. Dozens of people – both friends and strangers – have helped in the search. I can say without hesitation that hundreds of people have prayed that God would lead us to the right place.
From the time I realized the challenge it would be to find suitable (not to mention affordable) housing in a city that is drawing its livelihood from hosting volunteer groups, I found myself confidently telling people, “God knows how this ends! He has something in mind for us.” These words became my theme, but there were frequent days on which I found my faith lacking. While I spoke these words to the masses, my constant cry to my Father was “Help my unbelief.”
As word of our need spread and more and more people jumped on our prayer bandwagon, my hope was bolstered: not only my hope for the Lord’s provision of housing, but my hope for his glory being revealed to and exalted by many. I envisioned stumbling upon the perfect site, even began composing celebratory e-mails in my head. I wondered how we would ever reach all of the people who had been praying to tell them of how the Lord had answered. My prayer became, “Lord, let your glory be revealed!” With such a large captive audience, why wouldn’t He want to show off by providing for us in abundance?
But now, a decision has to be made. The Lord has indeed provided us with an option, but it is less than what we would have imagined or hoped for. I find myself disheartened, feeling a sense of resignation in entering a partnership that will no doubt make this summer a challenge. I wonder why the Lord would do things this way. He has provided, yes, and for that I praise him; but why, in this instance, would he not employ his infinite power and gracious generosity to give us more?
Perhaps he is calling all of us to a deeper faith. Perhaps he is inviting us to praise him even when we are left wanting. Perhaps he is delaying the display of his power and glory; perhaps it will be revealed even in the midst of challenges this summer. Perhaps we must glorify Him now for who he IS, not for what he does or what he gives.
Jesus cast a look on me
Give me sweet simplicity
Make me poor and keep me low
Seeking only thee to know
All that feeds my busy pride
Cast it evermore aside
Bid my will to Thine submit
Lay me humbly at thy feet
Make me like a little child
Of my strength and wisdom spoiled
Seeking only in Thy light
Walking only in Thy might
Leaning on Thy loving breast
Where a weary soul can rest
Feeling well the peace of God
Flowing from His precious blood
In this posture let me live
And hosannas daily give
In this temper let me die
And hosannas ever cry
- John Berridge (1716-1793)
Anyone who has talked to me in the past month or two knows that our search for YouthWorks housing in New Orleans has consumed much of my time, my thought, my energy, and my travel this spring. Dozens of people – both friends and strangers – have helped in the search. I can say without hesitation that hundreds of people have prayed that God would lead us to the right place.
From the time I realized the challenge it would be to find suitable (not to mention affordable) housing in a city that is drawing its livelihood from hosting volunteer groups, I found myself confidently telling people, “God knows how this ends! He has something in mind for us.” These words became my theme, but there were frequent days on which I found my faith lacking. While I spoke these words to the masses, my constant cry to my Father was “Help my unbelief.”
As word of our need spread and more and more people jumped on our prayer bandwagon, my hope was bolstered: not only my hope for the Lord’s provision of housing, but my hope for his glory being revealed to and exalted by many. I envisioned stumbling upon the perfect site, even began composing celebratory e-mails in my head. I wondered how we would ever reach all of the people who had been praying to tell them of how the Lord had answered. My prayer became, “Lord, let your glory be revealed!” With such a large captive audience, why wouldn’t He want to show off by providing for us in abundance?
But now, a decision has to be made. The Lord has indeed provided us with an option, but it is less than what we would have imagined or hoped for. I find myself disheartened, feeling a sense of resignation in entering a partnership that will no doubt make this summer a challenge. I wonder why the Lord would do things this way. He has provided, yes, and for that I praise him; but why, in this instance, would he not employ his infinite power and gracious generosity to give us more?
Perhaps he is calling all of us to a deeper faith. Perhaps he is inviting us to praise him even when we are left wanting. Perhaps he is delaying the display of his power and glory; perhaps it will be revealed even in the midst of challenges this summer. Perhaps we must glorify Him now for who he IS, not for what he does or what he gives.
Jesus cast a look on me
Give me sweet simplicity
Make me poor and keep me low
Seeking only thee to know
All that feeds my busy pride
Cast it evermore aside
Bid my will to Thine submit
Lay me humbly at thy feet
Make me like a little child
Of my strength and wisdom spoiled
Seeking only in Thy light
Walking only in Thy might
Leaning on Thy loving breast
Where a weary soul can rest
Feeling well the peace of God
Flowing from His precious blood
In this posture let me live
And hosannas daily give
In this temper let me die
And hosannas ever cry
- John Berridge (1716-1793)
Monday, May 28, 2007
Meeting the crowd on the shore
John the Baptist had just been killed. Jesus needed to get away and be by himself, yet the crowds pursued him. They were there waiting for him when he came ashore, "and he had compassion on them and healed their sick" (Matthew 14:13-14).
A timely reminder as I embark on another summer as a YouthWorks Area Director. I know there will be times when I want and need to get away. I know that there will be crowds waiting - if not in person, at least on the phone - when I return. I pray that I will not meet them with frustration or impatience, but with compassion and willingness to do the tasks for which God has equipped me.
A timely reminder as I embark on another summer as a YouthWorks Area Director. I know there will be times when I want and need to get away. I know that there will be crowds waiting - if not in person, at least on the phone - when I return. I pray that I will not meet them with frustration or impatience, but with compassion and willingness to do the tasks for which God has equipped me.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
"Our Perplexing Trials"
I am reading J.I. Packer's book Knowing God. It is proving to be excellent pre-summer reading, reinforcing much of what I've been coming to understand about God over the past few years, illuminating some new themes and ideas, helping me to delve deeper into Scripture, and frequently helping me to approach situations that arise on a daily basis in a more clear-minded and God-centered way. The following words, from a section entitled "Our Perplexing Trials", ring especially true as we continue to wait on God's provision for housing for our New Orleans YouthWorks site:
Perhaps he means to strengthen us in patience, good humor, compassion, humility or meekness, by giving us some extra practice in exercising these graces under especially difficult conditions. Perhaps he has new lessons in self-denial and self-distrust to teach us. Perhaps he wishes to break us of complacency, or unreality, or undetected forms of pride or conceit. Perhaps his purpose is simply to draw us closer to himself in conscious communion with him; for it is often the case, as all the saints know, that fellowship with the Father and the Son is most vivid and sweet, and Christian joy the greatest, when the cross is heaviest. Or perhaps God is preparing us for forms of service of which at present we have no inkling...
But how are we to meet these baffling and trying situations, if we cannot for the moment see God's purpose in them? First, by taking them as from God, and asking ourselves what reactions to them, and in them, the gospel of God requires of us; second, by seeking God's face specifically about them.
Lord, I don't want to pretend as if waiting on housing in New Orleans is the greatest trial I will ever endure - far from it, I'm sure. Nonetheless, I thank you for strengthening me through this process, for constantly teaching me new lessons in self-distrust, and for drawing me into deeper communion with and dependence on you. This is indeed vivid and sweet fellowship.
Perhaps he means to strengthen us in patience, good humor, compassion, humility or meekness, by giving us some extra practice in exercising these graces under especially difficult conditions. Perhaps he has new lessons in self-denial and self-distrust to teach us. Perhaps he wishes to break us of complacency, or unreality, or undetected forms of pride or conceit. Perhaps his purpose is simply to draw us closer to himself in conscious communion with him; for it is often the case, as all the saints know, that fellowship with the Father and the Son is most vivid and sweet, and Christian joy the greatest, when the cross is heaviest. Or perhaps God is preparing us for forms of service of which at present we have no inkling...
But how are we to meet these baffling and trying situations, if we cannot for the moment see God's purpose in them? First, by taking them as from God, and asking ourselves what reactions to them, and in them, the gospel of God requires of us; second, by seeking God's face specifically about them.
Lord, I don't want to pretend as if waiting on housing in New Orleans is the greatest trial I will ever endure - far from it, I'm sure. Nonetheless, I thank you for strengthening me through this process, for constantly teaching me new lessons in self-distrust, and for drawing me into deeper communion with and dependence on you. This is indeed vivid and sweet fellowship.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Fallen
... for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God... Romans 3:23
I spent a day in Biloxi, Mississippi last week. I had driven through Biloxi quickly a few months ago, but this was my first opportunity to spend time really looking around at the city and the state of things there. What I saw troubled me - but it was not the emptiness or devastation that troubled me; rather, it was the fact that, for this first-time visitor, the destruction I saw around me seemed eerily normal, as if it belonged there. I found myself celebrating signs of survival while not fully comprehending the breadth of what was ruined. With no frame of reference for what was before, I couldn't begin to recognize what was missing now.
"We have forgotten how hard we fell."
These words were part of a sermon I heard a few weeks ago. The pastor was talking about our sinfulness, and how flawed and weak we as humans truly are - a reality we forget all too easily.
These words came back to me as we drove around Biloxi. I realized that in many ways, my experience of Biloxi that day was much like our experience of the world as Christians. Sin seems eerily normal. We find ourselves celebrating signs of human goodness while not fully comprehending the breadth of evil. With no frame of reference for what Adam and Eve knew in the garden, we can't begin to recognize - much less mourn - what is missing now.
As I spend time in Biloxi this summer and get to know the people who have been laboring there for the past two years, I have no doubt that I will gain a better picture of what Biloxi is today, what it used to be, and what it will take to get back to that.
As I spend time with the Lord and get to know more of his character and his heart, I have no doubt that I will gain a better picture of his glory, how far I have fallen from it, and what it will take to be able to behold his glory once again. Though I know the answer on some level - that nothing I do could bridge that gap, I want to ponder this, to live with a healthy reverence for how far I've fallen, and how great my God is.
I spent a day in Biloxi, Mississippi last week. I had driven through Biloxi quickly a few months ago, but this was my first opportunity to spend time really looking around at the city and the state of things there. What I saw troubled me - but it was not the emptiness or devastation that troubled me; rather, it was the fact that, for this first-time visitor, the destruction I saw around me seemed eerily normal, as if it belonged there. I found myself celebrating signs of survival while not fully comprehending the breadth of what was ruined. With no frame of reference for what was before, I couldn't begin to recognize what was missing now.
"We have forgotten how hard we fell."
These words were part of a sermon I heard a few weeks ago. The pastor was talking about our sinfulness, and how flawed and weak we as humans truly are - a reality we forget all too easily.
These words came back to me as we drove around Biloxi. I realized that in many ways, my experience of Biloxi that day was much like our experience of the world as Christians. Sin seems eerily normal. We find ourselves celebrating signs of human goodness while not fully comprehending the breadth of evil. With no frame of reference for what Adam and Eve knew in the garden, we can't begin to recognize - much less mourn - what is missing now.
As I spend time in Biloxi this summer and get to know the people who have been laboring there for the past two years, I have no doubt that I will gain a better picture of what Biloxi is today, what it used to be, and what it will take to get back to that.
As I spend time with the Lord and get to know more of his character and his heart, I have no doubt that I will gain a better picture of his glory, how far I have fallen from it, and what it will take to be able to behold his glory once again. Though I know the answer on some level - that nothing I do could bridge that gap, I want to ponder this, to live with a healthy reverence for how far I've fallen, and how great my God is.
Finishing (Take Two)
Yesterday dawned cloudy and drizzly in Nashville, Tennessee, but by the time all 30,000 runners and walkers had crossed the starting line, the clouds had all but disappeared. The sun was shining, bands were playing, and folks were cheering. What a thrill it was to be running the Country Music Half-Marathon for the second time!
As you may recall, last Spring my friends and co-workers Mayme and Benj convinced me to join them in running this race. What started as a completely ridiculous idea turned into something I loved. Hence, when Mayme suggested we do it again, it didn't take long for me to say yes. I even managed to talk my dad into running it with me, and he suggested my cousin Sam join us as well.
This training season was harder than my first. Some days, life and work took over. Other days, it was laziness that won out. Nonetheless, Saturdays still found me on long runs, most weekday mornings found me up early, and I said good-bye to soda for eight weeks. This year's training and race brought some other new and exciting things as well. Some highlights:
- Learning to embrace (and actually run up) the myriad hills in my neighborhood.
- The addition of Spandex to my running wardrobe.
- Subscribing to Runner's World magazine (talk about good motivation!).
- Discovering that running with people is actually rather enjoyable.
- Doing training runs in five states, including running in Louisiana humidity, unexpected early Spring heat in Alabama, and doing eight miles on a cold, rainy Saturday morning in Minnesota.
- Seeing my cousin Sam for the first time in more than ten years, and fully appreciating the fact that he ran the race in a mohawk.
- Watching my dad get into running, doing training runs with him when I was home, and running more than ten miles of the race with him by my side.
- After a rather anonymous run last year, we had fans for this year's race! It was great to have familiar faces cheering us on.
- I finished this year's race ELEVEN MINUTES FASTER than last year's, and can confidently say I could not have done any better or given any more. Now I know what people mean when they say they "left it all on the course".
In some ways, doing this the second time around made the process a little less thought-provoking. It was a little more routine, and a little less inspirational. At the same time, God never let me get too far without reminding me that every step I took was a gift from Him, and that it was only by his grace that I could train for and run this race. He also gave me a very gracious gift in the motivation department - something that gave me a reason to keep going during the weeks when I wanted to put away my running shoes.
What was this motivation? A magazine article. No, not an article from Runner's World. Rather, it was a piece I wrote for the new magazine Reverb, which YouthWorks will be distributing to all its participants this summer. The article is about running, and how God has so unexpectedly made it a part of my life. When I wrote the article in January, I wrote, "now I have one half-marathon under my belt, and I am training for a second." However, when the article came back from the editor, it had been changed to reflect the fact that the article would be published this summer, after the race. Now it read, "I have two half-marathons under my belt." I read those words in February, struck by the realization that 37,000 YouthWorks participants would be reading those same words this summer. They would know me as a two-time half-marathon runner. If I quit training, those words would be a lie!
"Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so he may run who reads it. For still the vision awaits the appointed time; it hastens to the end - it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay." Habakkuk 2:2-3
What if all of my goals were made so public? What if I wrote all of them down for all to see, and wrote them as if they had already been accomplished? Talk about motivation. Talk about accountability. Talk about a vision that hastens to the end.
As you may recall, last Spring my friends and co-workers Mayme and Benj convinced me to join them in running this race. What started as a completely ridiculous idea turned into something I loved. Hence, when Mayme suggested we do it again, it didn't take long for me to say yes. I even managed to talk my dad into running it with me, and he suggested my cousin Sam join us as well.
This training season was harder than my first. Some days, life and work took over. Other days, it was laziness that won out. Nonetheless, Saturdays still found me on long runs, most weekday mornings found me up early, and I said good-bye to soda for eight weeks. This year's training and race brought some other new and exciting things as well. Some highlights:
- Learning to embrace (and actually run up) the myriad hills in my neighborhood.
- The addition of Spandex to my running wardrobe.
- Subscribing to Runner's World magazine (talk about good motivation!).
- Discovering that running with people is actually rather enjoyable.
- Doing training runs in five states, including running in Louisiana humidity, unexpected early Spring heat in Alabama, and doing eight miles on a cold, rainy Saturday morning in Minnesota.
- Seeing my cousin Sam for the first time in more than ten years, and fully appreciating the fact that he ran the race in a mohawk.
- Watching my dad get into running, doing training runs with him when I was home, and running more than ten miles of the race with him by my side.
- After a rather anonymous run last year, we had fans for this year's race! It was great to have familiar faces cheering us on.
- I finished this year's race ELEVEN MINUTES FASTER than last year's, and can confidently say I could not have done any better or given any more. Now I know what people mean when they say they "left it all on the course".
In some ways, doing this the second time around made the process a little less thought-provoking. It was a little more routine, and a little less inspirational. At the same time, God never let me get too far without reminding me that every step I took was a gift from Him, and that it was only by his grace that I could train for and run this race. He also gave me a very gracious gift in the motivation department - something that gave me a reason to keep going during the weeks when I wanted to put away my running shoes.
What was this motivation? A magazine article. No, not an article from Runner's World. Rather, it was a piece I wrote for the new magazine Reverb, which YouthWorks will be distributing to all its participants this summer. The article is about running, and how God has so unexpectedly made it a part of my life. When I wrote the article in January, I wrote, "now I have one half-marathon under my belt, and I am training for a second." However, when the article came back from the editor, it had been changed to reflect the fact that the article would be published this summer, after the race. Now it read, "I have two half-marathons under my belt." I read those words in February, struck by the realization that 37,000 YouthWorks participants would be reading those same words this summer. They would know me as a two-time half-marathon runner. If I quit training, those words would be a lie!
"Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so he may run who reads it. For still the vision awaits the appointed time; it hastens to the end - it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay." Habakkuk 2:2-3
What if all of my goals were made so public? What if I wrote all of them down for all to see, and wrote them as if they had already been accomplished? Talk about motivation. Talk about accountability. Talk about a vision that hastens to the end.
There's no doubt we'll be back in Nashville again next April. Post a comment here if you'd like to join us.
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