a tank full of thankful

I'm reeling today...with thankfulness.  Yesterday was filled with events that allowed me to see again the hand of God working through people, touching lives in some special ways.


The first event took place (actually, it culminated) during the afternoon.  The local 7-11 down the street from the church had been conducting a canned food drive for our Pantry ministry the last couple of weeks.  It was one of those "Bring a can, get a free hot dog" kind of thing. And they got rid of a lot of dogs!  The owner, a gracious man named Ranji (on left, wearing turban), asked if I could come to receive the cans and join in the festivities. Ranji is generous and wanted to give back to the community.  He decided to hook up with us because he knew that we provide food regularly to people in need.


When I got to the 7-11 parking lot, people were everywhere, and plastic tubs of food were piled high.  A DJ spun music at an extremely high decibel level, a jumper consumed small children, and free food and soft drinks were being devoured everywhere.  Ranji hugged me as he excitedly showed me the food that had been collected. Kids kept arriving with more cans, and the inside of the store was as full of people as the outside.


Ranji told me that his dream was to see the community helping its own, and that he wanted to develop an ongoing partnership with us.  As I mingled with people, I was reminded that there really is only one race on earth, the human race. That we have the ability to lift each other, strengthen each other and make a difference in each other's lives.  And I saw again the great value of a church that is connected with those around it.  Our involvement with people at basic life levels helps them understand God's concern for them, and gives us a platform to continue sharing life with them.


A short while later we gathered at the church for our monthly Community Supper.  November's Supper is special, as we serve a full Thanksgiving dinner, thanks to the generous donations of our congregation.  The evening was outstanding as more than 200 from the community arrived to a special set-up in the main auditorium. Scrumptious dinners were served by almost 100 volunteers from the church.  Lots of sharing, lots of interaction, lots of connection.  And everyone was thankful.  Very thankful. One woman told me upon her arrival that she was so lonely.  At the end of the evening she assured me that loneliness was no longer an immediate concern.


My heart's full.  People giving their possessions for strangers. People giving their time in service. People giving their lives for others. And I'm thankful as I see so many blessings around me.  It's easy to become cynical in my world, and much of what I see and experience has the capability to color it with some pretty ugly hues. But Friday reminded me that good blossoms in even the grayest of situations, and that people have the ability to do good when need presents itself.  And why not?  It goes back to image in which we were made, doesn't it? That image is a good one, always initiating, always giving, always blessing, always connecting.  And that gives me hope.


And it makes me thankful.

the urban jungle

I visited a neighborhood not long ago where crime is rampant. Several houses in the community were boarded up, some of them burned out, and most tagged with graffiti. No one is on the streets after dark because the possibility of trouble with local gangs is so likely.   Tennis shoes and blue or red bandannas adorn telephone wires throughout.  The two primary gangs vying for control? Crips and Bloods, of course.  Alcohol and drugs are a staple for adults and kids alike.  Abuse of all kinds is a regular part of life, especially among the youth. Unemployment is far too high, most residents exist in survival mode, and the concept of hope is almost nonexistent. 


If you were to guess where I visited, you might have thought of Detroit, Chicago, or New York.  The urban issues I witnessed are common in cities like Atlanta, St. Louis or Dallas. But I was close to home than these places...and not nearly as urban.  My destination was the San Carlos Apache Reservation (via Arizona Reservation Ministry) outside the town of Globe in eastern Arizona.  I've been to this place many times, and each visit overwhelms my sensibilities.  So much despair, so much struggle, and so much destruction of human life and possibility.  And the other factor that never ceases to astound me is the existence of the complex urban issues that seem so out of place here.  


All this makes ministry here doubly difficult.  Not only do workers need to understand Native American (and Apache, specifically) culture well, but they must also know how to deal with urban culture, and all the facets associated with it.  Either one of these is a full-time undertaking, but this is one place that both must be carefully considered.  


In all this challenge, our team witnessed hope.  Many of the kids with whom ARM works were different than they used to be.  They were responsive, positive, polite and expressive.  They interacted with us more deeply than they would have a couple of years ago.  They were smiling, laughing, enjoying.  As simple as these things are to us, they can be major accomplishments for those of San Carlos.  And we were encouraged.


So the next time you think about urban ministry, see tagging along a wall, or shoes dangling from a wire, remember that urban doesn't just happen in cities anymore.  That there are kids struggling to survive mean rural streets that are teeming with urban challenges.  And that we need people willing to commit their lives to understanding multiple cultures all wrapped up in the same neighborhood.  It's a crazy world.


And it's getting crazier all the time.

mock the vote?

Early this morning I made my way to the location allocated to receive my vote. I considered it a landmark occasion, not because there are so many important people and issues up for consideration, but because I'm afforded the right, the responsibility of the vote.


I grumbled under my breath at what I considered to be poor marking to find the voting area, thinking how it might have been made better. I then discovered that I was listed as a mail-in ballot person, which would have been fine except that I never received any ballot by mail.  There was a provision for that, but it was quickly obvious that the workers were unfamiliar with the process. Heck, it was early and they were volunteers, and I grumbled a little more.


I cast my ballot (computerized now- cool), turned in some paperwork (part of that special provision), pasted my sticker proudly on my chest and beat a hasty retreat to the rest of my day. Pretty simple, pretty straightforward, pretty easy. But then I thought of people in countries like the Philippines who are willing to risk their lives for the vote. During our years there, school teachers were usually required to stand guard over local ballot boxes.  Often, because of violence and corruption, those teachers gave their lives to protect the votes.  In some countries, goons wait outside voting areas, seeking to intimidate, injure or even kill those who come to vote. And in far too many countries voting is not even an option. Hmmm, why had I been grumbling again?


I'm concerned that we too easily assume that our vote means nothing, or that the hassle somehow isn't worth our time or effort. I can't believe that those who risk or give their lives for this privilege would find our excuses compelling. I hope you made time to exercise your responsibility. And if you didn't (for whatever reason) that you'll commit now to do it next time. Really. If not for your voice to be heard, then because you'll remember that someone somewhere in this world wishes he had it as good as you when he steps into that voting booth. Or that she's willing to take a chance with her life because the ability to vote is as precious as life itself.

And she probably doesn't even grumble.

what makes a church look good?

I had lunch yesterday with Kevin Haah, lead pastor of New Life Christian Church (www.newcitychurchla.com) in downtown Los Angeles.  Kevin is the church planter of this multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, multi-socio-economic congregation that's grown to about 250 in just a few years.  New Life is a breath of fresh air on the streets of LA, and is a significant expression of hope in a culture that is in such great need.


Kevin and I talked about a new plan to involve churches in a church planting network (CPN) that would dream, plan, fund and encourage a collection of new church plants in the Los Angeles area.  We also talked about the urban church, and God's design and plan for it. We talked about examples from the book of Acts, from Jerusalem to Antioch and beyond. And we marveled at the ability of that first church to transcend class and cultural boundaries to demonstrate a community unlike anything the world had seen.

We talked about Acts 16 and the first "members" of the church in the city of Philippi.  The first person mentioned was Lydia, a seller of purple (Kevin called her a fashion executive!) who opened her small group of Jews to Paul in a gathering by the river (there was no synagogue in the city where the Jews could meet).  Lydia was a businesswoman, a woman of influence and position and a Jew.  And she found new direction and hope in the message Paul offered.


The second person impacted was a slave girl with a demonic spirit that allowed her foretell the future. Her owners made their living from her abilities...until Paul cast that evil spirit from her and gave her the chance to be what God had designed her to be.  This girl was homeless, bottom-of-the-barrel, even less than human in the eyes of those around her. Yet in Christ she now found her meaning value.


For all their work with this girl, Paul and Silas got tossed into prison, where their willingness to remain intact following the earthquake that freed all the inmates, gave them opportunity to share good news with their jailer and bring him and his family to salvation in Christ.  That man was a blue-collar company man, part of the dominant class, a man who managed the violence of life. But he found his peace through the Prince of Peace.


A female Jewish entrepreneur. A demonized riff-raff slave. A government enforcer.  As different from each other as possible.  Yet they were cornerstone pieces of what was to become the Philippian church.  God never intended for his people to have to look like each other on the outside. To have life experiences in common. To have to come from the same race, culture, class or life direction. In fact, his power and glory are much more powerfully demonstrated when those of us from vastly varied backgrounds find unity and oneness through what he's done for us. Through his sacrifice. His death. His gift of life for the world that he loves so much.

And when we gather around what we do have in common- a Savior who has called us, redeemed us and commissioned us- we create a community unlike anything the world understands. A community where "natural" barriers (e.g. race, culture, class, education, income) mean increasingly less and where love, acceptance, partnership and mutual edification take center stage.  Urban churches...and maybe more and more churches everywhere...must reflect this kind of look, because in so doing we reflect our immediate community.  And in so doing, we also reflect the bigger picture that will one day envelope all those who claim allegiance to Jesus.  That's heaven, of course.  


And if you don't feel comfortable with what I've described now, you're really gonna be disappointed on that Day.

a church without God? (another Kenya update!)

Every time we embark on a GO! Team adventure, God provides special people and opportunities for us to find.  Our time in Kenya was no exception.  While in Masii, we met Laura, a young French woman who was finishing an internship with a local NGO located in the same building where Tumaini had its offices.


Laura became close friends with many Tumaini people including William, the pastor of Masii Christian Chapel.  What made the friendship even more interesting was that Laura was a devout atheist.  Not only did she not believe in God, it made no logical sense to her how or why others would profess such a belief.  Laura was not shy about her views, and she and William had countless conversations about the plausibility of Christianity.  


We had the pleasure of meeting Laura shortly before her return to France, and we discovered some impressive dynamics about her relationship with the Christians in Masii.   She attended church services regularly, sang, contributed and fellowshiped in a personal and powerful way.  The church didn't convince her about the existence of God (yet) but it showed her something she'd never seen before- the unconditional love and caring of community.  And though she could deny the reality of God, she couldn't (nor did she want to) deny the reality of the love that a group of people from another culture showered upon her, even though they were on different pages when it came to faith!


The one thing Laura told us she wanted to do upon her return to France was to begin a church that had all the same fellowship components as those in Masii, but a church that didn't have to believe in God!  We chuckled as we talked about how that would ultimately look, since the love she'd found represented God himself.  And though it may sound strange to you that she wanted a church without God, I understood her sentiment as a tribute of the highest order to the believers there. She has perhaps never experienced such community in her life in France.  Yet people in another country, because of their faith took her in, accepted her, and by loving her made her hungry for more. She may not understand this as God's love (yet), but I believe she will.  And we're praying that this love will cause her to search until she finds it somewhere among God's people in her own culture.


I love the fact that the church in one small town made an international impact on one unbeliever simply by loving her the way Christ told them to. She promised us that she'd keep her mind and heart open to the possibility of God, and we told her that we would pray for her. Even though she's an insistent atheist. Even though she doesn't understand what she can't see. Even though she doesn't believe.


Yet.

there's no place like home (kenya update)

There’s no mistaking being here in Africa. The moment I step off the plane, the sights, the sounds, the smells and the atmosphere bombard my senses and scream to me that I’m not in Kansas anymore. I look around each day and remind myself, “I’m in Africa!”

There are so much that’s so different from what I’m accustomed to. Of course, Kenya is filled with…well, Kenyans. That’s obviously different. The driving, on the left-hand side of the road and, in Nairobi just about anywhere a driver chooses, is different. The warmth and kindness of friends and strangers here alike is pleasantly different. Foods, sights, conveniences, homes and much more- different.

But let me tell you a bit about last Tuesday. Pastor William of the Masii Christian Chapel, took Pastor Josh and me to make calls around town. We walked a distance from the primary part of town to a community known as “Kosovo.” It’s an alcohol brewing area, and most inhabitants are social outcasts. We got there before 10 a.m. and everyone had already been drinking for some time. We were invited to sit and as we conversed, the elder of the group, Peter, asked us if we believed they were misguided to drink as much as they did.

A conversation quickly blossomed. A conversation about what ought to control us, and deeper lordship issues. About Jesus making wine (OK, they said it was beer) and about making God happy. About the shame and self- contempt they felt because church people usually preached at and condemned them. About feeling unwelcome, uncomfortable and unloved in church. And about who Jesus might hang out with if he came to Masii. Suddenly, Africa felt a little more like home than it had.


We stood talking with a friend of William’s on a main street. A young man, obviously drunk approached us (is there a sign on me or something?!) and introduced himself as Abdullah. He insisted we buy him lunch, which William declined. He then asked us to follow him- actually, I think he dragged us- into what we thought was a restaurant to pray for him. Sitting with him in a booth of sorts, we realized we were in a bar and the half-empty glass of beer between us all was his. He poured out his heart, lamenting of his addiction to drink and the destruction it had caused. How he spent whatever money he earned on beer, even if it meant he didn’t eat. How he was tired and wanted change. He begged us to pray that he would be delivered. With tears in his eyes we prayed. And then we bought him lunch. Hmm, sure seems a lot like what I do at home.


William took most of our group to a corner of town where 15-20 young men gather daily to sell drugs. As we met these men, I had the opportunity to present the gospel to them. I spoke as William translated, and we found ourselves quickly surrounded by even more men, coming over to see what was happening with the wazungu (whites). A car pulled up behind us, something was removed from the trunk , something from within our midst replaced it, and it sped off with its newfound treasure. As we prayed with these guys, I saw the hollowness, the hopelessness, the longing for something better in their eyes. And somehow, I felt pretty much like I was at home.


I realize again how alike we are. That although customs and externals may not be the same, we’re not so far apart. Our very essence cries out for value, for freedom, for meaning and purpose, for love. From others and from God. We may dress ourselves in contextual uniqueness, but at the heart we’re very much alike. Don’t be fooled by what you see on the outside. It’s about the inside. It’s about people and our need to be right. With others and with God. In Kenya, in Africa, in America.


It’s good to be home.

a voice in kenya

I heard God's voice today.

Our devotional booklet has focused on learning to hear the voice of God, and I've been working on that during the trip. Before leaving for home visits this morning, I asked God specifically to help me hear his voice today.  Our visitations to Tumaini kids and their families took us to a number of homes, some of them with very little.  But one was different than the others.

Louise is a grandmother raising her two grandchildren, Rachel and Wambua, because their mom died several years ago through HIV AIDS.  Dad's still around, but is sickly and probably has the disease as well.  In addition to this loss, Louise has lost other children, one who died giving birth and others to AIDS.  She is a faithful believer, a widow, and probably more than 70 years old.  She struggles just to make sure her family is taken care of.  And Tumaini helps.

Her home consists of a few brick and mud structures that appear little more than small storage sheds.  But she and the kids have used them for shelter since last April.  It was during heavy rains then that another small brick and mud structure in which they were sleeping began to collapse.  Some of the walls gave way in the downpour as the children began screaming, "We're dead! We're dead!"  Somehow, walls that should have fallen on them didn't and they were spared.

As Louise shared her story and we surveyed the half-collapsed home, Stanley said quietly to me, "Tumaini doesn't typically involve itself in building homes, but I believe God wants us to rebuild this one."  It was then God spoke to my heart and said, "You- you and people you know- make sure this home is redone and this family is safe."  I stood there quietly considering the situation.  How could we not?  I acknowledged what I believed I heard, told Stanley what God had laid on my heart, and asked how much it would cost.  He said he would have estimates and a man ready to begin in a couple of days, but he thought it should be about $700.  I calmly thought, "Our missions budget can probably afford that." 

Then I heard God's voice again. "No," he clearly told me, "Not just from your budget. I want greater awareness and ownership from others.  I want you to ask and involve people." 

Really.  That's what he told me.

So there it is.  I believe with all my heart God heard my prayer this morning and spoke to me.  It's not exactly what I was expecting (I'm not sure just what I was expecting), but he spoke.  And I'm kinda excited, because he's either spoken, speaking, or going to speak to someone else about his or her part in this.  If you think God might be speaking to you, let me know.  Soon.  More rains are on the way and this family needs assistance before something else falls.

It's not about the money.  It's about listening.  And responding.  I'm trying to hear him and follow what I believe he's saying to me.  It's not always easy.  Too many voices, too many distractions, too much talking on my part.  But I know something for sure tonight.

I heard God's voice today.

a hard road home

Being back in Kenya brings me back to the face of reality.  I mean real reality. As difficult as our lives can be at times (and for some of us, life has slapped us hard in the face. Maybe more than once), when I spend time with people here, I'm reminded of the way the majority of people in the world live each day. Poverty like you may have never witnessed, living conditions that cause you to shake your head, disease and death that are far too familiar, opportunities to "make it out" resting at slim and none, tomorrows that look too much like todays for too many.


Yet in the midst of odds that honestly baffle my mind, I find people who are genuinely happy. People who smile each day and press on.  People who are not unmindful of their situations but are determined to make the best of them.  People who are thankful for what they have and not bitter at what they don't. Our corner on the challenges market, as we serve with Tumaini, is the impact that HIV AIDS has had on more than 2 million children in the country, leaving them without parents. Yet our Tumaini kids demonstrate some of the greatest determination and resilience imaginable. And the guardians who take them in, usually grandparents without adequate finances or health, do so gladly, as they believe (and discover anew) the providing grace of God.


I don't think my life is particularly rough, especially on a global comparison. But I can still find myself whining, venting, seeing what I don't have more quickly than what I possess. My much needed punch in the gut comes when I sit with my friends here and consider how they live. In spite of circumstances they've made a choice to serve God, to look for his hand and to believe that he's going to see them through their challenges.  I heard it from them again this morning as we sat in their homes listening to their stories. No bitterness, no complaining, no resentment. And if anyone could justify such feelings, some of these could.


Jesus never said the road would be easy. His yoke may be light but the path we travel is full of struggle, challenge and too often, pain. Yet he did promise to be there with us, to shoulder that yoke with us, to provide rest for us in the journey. Some of my Kenyan friends have learned that.  It's why I'm glad I'm back, so I might learn more of it from them.


Again.

first report from kenya...good news!

I apologize for taking this long to post a blog about the team.  The first week here has been extremely eventful in so many ways. Not only did it take us an extra 11 hours and an extra city to reach Nairobi (a saga in itself!), but we lost Stanley Mutunga as we boarded our flight in NYC.  Seems someone for Delta decided he needed more pages in his passport and removed him from the flight until he could get more added.  We landed Thursday morning instead of Wednesday evening, and Stanley arrived Friday night!

Nairobi was a quick but eye-opening experience.  We journied into Mathare, a slum of about 800,000 (and only the second largest in the city!). There we visited two ministries- WEEP (Women's Equality and Empowerment Project), and Community Transformers.  WEEP trains women with HIVAIDS with tailoring skills.  These new abilities allow them to provide for their families, and provides value for them in their communities.  It gives them a reason to live and a hope for their futures.  Community Transformers was started by a group of HIV+ young people who, upon their conversions to Christ, banded together, to remain in Mathare, and now minister to others who may not have the hope of Christ.  Both works challenged and encouraged us as we saw the impact of Christ in the most serious of situations.

We moved on to Masii (a couple hours south) Friday and set up shop at the Tumaini Center.  Dr. Ron saw and treated a handful of patients as we settled in.  Then today (Saturday) we shared in a program put on by and for our nearby Tumaini children.  There were familiar faces throughout the crowd, as Ron briefly examined each child and then took care of a small number of them who needed care.

Today (Saturday) we shared in a program for those Tumaini kids who live close by.  There was singing, praying, testimonies food and laughter as we caught up with kids whom some of us have known for years, as well as met new children.  Ron examined each child briefly, then treated a small number who needed his help.

We are already sensing God's hand upon us as He opens our eyes to a world so much bigger than what we know.  Hearing stories of faith in impossible circumstances, seeing hope in the eyes of those most would have forgotten, discovering our oneness in spite of ovbious differences makes an indelible imprint upon our spirits.  The stories and lives they represent remind us of a great and powerful God who is working in the most impossible of situations to show people His great compassion and care.  We are blessed to be part of it.

Tomorrow will be worship and celebration together as God's people, and we can hardly wait to experience them with our Kenyan family.  One thing's for sure: for all the ways we're different, we sure have a lot of the same needs, hopes and desires.  And that common bond in Christ takes us beyond our surface issues and differnces, straight to the heart of God.

Can you think of a better place to be?

tumaini...it's all about hope

It's 2:30 a.m. and I'm awake.  Preparing for our early morning flight that will take us (eventually) to Kenya.  That's where we'll spend the next couple of weeks working with Tumaini International Ministries.  Tumaini, founded by Stanley and Rose Mutunga, is a Kiswahili word that means hope.  Their focus is to come alongside AIDS orphans, through sponsorship, education and encouragement, and walk with them in their journeys toward adulthood.  These kids have lost one or both parents to AIDS, and usually live with grandparents, other relatives or friends.  Life is hard at best, and sponsorship ($35 monthly) makes the difference between failure and success for hundreds of children, both young and old.

We'll leave LAX at 8:00 today and touch down in Nairobi about 7:30 Wednesday night (11 hours ahead of LA time).  All Thursday and Friday morning will be in this capital city of 4+ million, as we will visit different ministry sites in one of the largest slums in Africa.  Then Friday we'll travel 2-3 hours south and east, to the small community of Masii, where Tumaini has its offices.  Doctor Ron Jurgensen (my favorite dentist!) is with us again and we'll pull teeth for a week for those who'll walk for hours just to sit in his chair and find the relief his skills can bring.  We'll also visit some of the children that our church sponsors, as well as meet with the new church there as they are designing strategies for planting a church in the nearby city of Machakos.  It promises to be a great couple of weeks.

Our team of seven includes KACC and Parkcrest Christian Church (7th St. campus, Long Beach), and our desire is to continue to partner with Parkcrest in this ministry of compassion and church planting.  Please pray for us as we travel, adjust, connect and serve.  Pray for divine appointments with those who need to hear good news, and for boldness to share.  Pray for unity within our team a life-changing experience...for Kenyans and Americans alike.

I recently read some words in Psalms that spoke to me in a fresh way about Tumaini:

He [God] raises the poor out of the dust,

And lifts the needy out of the ash heap,

That He may seat them with princes-

With the princes of His people.

                                          Psalm 113:7,8

Tumaini's work has lifted hundreds of children and adults alike from the dust, from life's ash heap, and is even now preparing a new generation to sit with leaders and movers of their land.  Because they're giving an opportunity to those who needed it.  Because they're giving compassion and care to many for whom no one else cares. Because they're giving a vision to many who had lost sight of their futures.

Because they're giving hope.

bush league (reggie and the heisman)

It's been a tough ride recently for those of us who count ourselves as University of Southern California football fans. The team has been penalized because of rules infractions dating back to the 2005 season, the firestorm centering around star running back Reggie Bush. Reggie won the Heisman Trophy that year, given to the outstanding college player of the season, but was recently found guilty of rules infractions, namely accepting money and gifts from potential agents during that season. These violations not only meant he'd been ineligible, but cost the team victories in which he played, their '05 national championship title and now, scholarships and the ability to play in post-season games the next two years. As I watched, read and reflected on the debacle this week, I found perspective that I hadn't initially considered.

What Reggie did was wrong. Flat out. But he chose to participate anyway. Maybe he justified it, thought he deserved it. Maybe he figured that no one would be the wiser, or be hurt by it. Maybe he was overwhelmed with the amounts being flashed before him. Maybe he became so consumed with what was right in front of him that he lost perspective of the bigger picture. No excuses, just maybes.

And as much as this riles me, I realize that my attitudes with sin usually run parallel. When I sin, I typically know that it's wrong but I choose to participate anyway. I can justify my actions, thinking I may even deserve whatever it is before me. Usually I figure no will know or be hurt by what I do. And I usually lose sight of the bigger picture and cost at stake. No excuses, just realizations.

But Reggie is discovering some deeper truths. Choices always have consequences. Always. They may come immediately, they may take awhile, but they will come. And it doesn't matter how you spin it to yourself, how you may convince yourself that it's OK. Wrong will still be wrong. Always. And there really is a bigger picture, along with collateral damage- those (often innocent) who will be impacted by what you choose. Always.

Scripture validates these truths. There's a story in the Old Testament book of 2 Kings about the servant of Elisha named Gehazi. Following the healing of Naaman, a man with leprosy, Gehazi set out to claim material goods that his master had turned down as a thank-you for the healing. Gehazi justified his actions to himself, lied to Naaman, and allowed the bling to distort his perspective. It was all about the moment. He hid his new-found spoil, assuming no one would be the wiser. He even lied to Elisha, who knew what he'd just done (c'mon, man, he was a prophet of God, after all). And when Elisha confronted him, Gehazi's punishment was to be Naaman's leprosy upon him for the rest of his life...and upon the lives of his descendants! Talk about your least-favorite relative at a family reunion!

Reggie has said that he made mistakes and that he returned the trophy because it was the right thing to do. That's good start. But he's not admitting guilt, not saying that he did wrong. Not apologizing to those he hurt by his actions. Without that kind of admission there is no repentance, no change of heart. And I'm afraid he'll continue to deny, justify and hide. I know, because I know the difference between a mistake and a sin in my own life. Between "oops" and violating a rule of God. And I know the difference in dealing with them...and what happens when I don't.

I want to be mad at Reggie, and I probably am a little, because what he did tainted a program and damaged possibilities of others. But my anger is tempered when I recognize the same tendencies within myself, and my struggle to do what's right. So for now, I'll keep my throwing stones tucked away until I'm sure I've got it all together. And I'll hope for Reggie, that he'll listen to the right voices, recognize the bigger picture and do, not just what's expected, and not just what's good, but what's best. Who knows? Maybe there will be an award waiting for him...given by the only Judge who's going to matter.

Fight on.

burn notice

Some more thoughts from this whole Qur'an-burning fiasco...

I noticed an article in today's news about a rally in Amarillo, in which a leader of a group called Repent Amarillo had announced that he was going to burn a copy of the Qur'an. A large group turned out to protest, a mixture of all stripes and spiritual tenets. They found unity in their protest of destroying anyone's sacred literature, but it fell on deaf ears of Repent's leadership. The man soaked the book in kerosene and was preparing to ignite it. But as something distracted him from his mission, a young man with a skateboard stepped up, snatched the intended kindling and ran off shouting, "Dude, you have NO Qur'an!" He then returned the book to an imam there in the park while the burner reportedly wandered off.

Now it's enough to know that there are more fire-starters out there besides that Floridian pastor. What's worse (to me, at least) is to see the way this group, Repent Amarillo, is characterized. The NY Daily News describes them as a group that crusades against promiscuity, homosexuality and non-Christians. Don't get me wrong, I'm no fan of those first two practices (although being against non-Christians escapes me), but as someone who wears the name of Christ, I'm so frustrated seeing others who claim the same name being known for what they're they're against, rather than what they're for. Isn't this how the world has categorized us for far too long? People too often stereotype Christians as spoil-sport, lemon-puckered, hypocritical downers, who live almost exclusively by the mantra, thou shalt not. While we know that's not the case (it's not the case, is it?) for most of us, there's just enough evidence of such thinking to reinforce the perception. And, believe me, in something like this, perceived reality IS reality.

When I read the Gospels, I don't see Jesus as a "thou shalt not" kind of guy...except, maybe, when he engaged self-sufficient, smug religious leaders. Otherwise, Jesus was inclusive- he welcomed people from different backgrounds, activities, philosophies, and castes. He never condoned sin, but opened his arms to sinners; never compromised a principle, but always made room for those trying to figure out the bigger picture. He understood the value of showing people what he wanted them to be and how he wanted them to live, and didn't simply scold them about what they shouldn't do or be.

Oh, that people would see us as those who bring good news, whose lives are like salt, and not pepper in our influence and impact in this world. Those who may take stands unpopular with culture, but who are engaging and inviting toward those who need to understand why such stands are made. It's not enough for me to want to be disassociated with people like Terry Jones or Repent Amarillo; it's my challenge to interact with my culture in such a way that people will see something- and Someone- different in me.

You must be the change you wish to see in the world.

-Mahatma Ghandi

burn, baby, burn

One of the mantras I remember from the '60s (besides the title of this blog) was the encouragement to "do what comes naturally." That advice seemed to fit the counter-culture revolution of its day. But it also appears to follow us today.Take the situation in Florida, in which a church pastor planned to have a Qur'an-burning day on 9/11. By now we've all heard the story, the debate, the outrage and the ridicule surrounding the event. At this point, the bonfire has been called off. That's good...but I'm bothered by the attitudes connected with the whole thing, especially among those who claim to be Christ-followers.

To begin with, I sense an overblown confusion among many between nationalism and faith. Added to that is a "natural" feeling of fairness, justice and rightness. I hear many (including voices within me) proclaim that Muslims have no compunction over burning our holy book, mistreating our people, or disrespecting our beliefs. Therefore, it's right (natural) to return the same attitude and action to them. I read a story about Bibles belonging to servicemen meant for distribution in Iraq that were confiscated and burned by the US military last year. A representative from a Christian defense organization was quoted as saying that to be fair and just, we should count up the number of Bibles destroyed, collect that many Qur'ans and burn them. Then we'd be even.

Now, that's a normal response. That's doing what comes naturally. Problem is, those of us who claim to walk in the steps of Jesus are NOT called to walk naturally. If we burn Qur'ans for Bibles, we' re living eye for eye, tooth for tooth. Not only would we all end up blind and toothless, but Jesus told us that we're expected to respond differently (Matt. 5:39). Not naturally. And if we refuse to love Muslims because we see them as the enemy (here's where being American and being Christian becomes conflicted for some), then we're no different than anyone else acting naturally. Jesus told us that we must love those opposed to us, and pray for them (Matt. 5:44-49).

It's easy (it's natural) to stand against anyone we see as a threat. I understand that. To resist them, to resent them, to oppose them. I get that. But how many Muslims (or anyone else, for that matter) are we praying for? How many have we made the effort to share with, to get to know, to serve...to love? If that idea grates against you, that's OK- it's natural. To be able to embrace such a concept is something far beyond natural. It's supernatural. And it takes to power of One within us to make it happen.

I don't expect those not following Christ to walk such a path. It's far too unnatural for most. But those of us who say that our allegiance is beyond this world are bound to back it up by our example. Are we to be concerned for our people? Sure. Stand up for injustice? Absolutely. Protect freedom? In a heartbeat. Love those who don't love us?

Only if you want to do what comes supernaturally.

a time to pray

A couple of months ago, we launched an experiment. We set up a place for people to stop and pray with us, in front of the church's property along the busy thoroughfare. One of our men had seen this at another church and he thought it would be worth trying. We set up a tent of sorts, signs, a table and chairs and a few volunteers...and waited. It didn't take long for some to stop to find out what was going on. One woman asked about the cost for the prayers. Another made an illegal u-turn in the middle of the street in order to pull in and talk to us. A gangbanger came down the street to request prayer for the upcoming birth of his son. By the end of that first afternoon, five people sat, shared and prayed with us.

Since that day, each Wednesday afternoon the tent has gone up, signs set in place, and people wait to pray. Some days one or two arrive, some days more. Today, as Robert (my assistant and cohort in mischief) was preparing, we wondered if there was enough value in this experiment to keep it going. Early on, there had been excitement, and several indicated interest in helping. A couple months later, that expression of involvement had been supplanted with the busyness of life and schedule for many. Was this activity worth the time it took to prepare and operate?

Before today's session was complete, Robert had shared with a man who had been walking down the sidewalk when he saw the signs. He sat and talked about the pain of his current broken marriage, about infidelity and poor choices, and he asked for direction, wisdom and prayer. Robert told him that there were no magic words to change the situation, but that regardless of the outcome he needed to make his relationship with Christ. They prayed and he went on, thankful that someone had taken time to listen to his story and pray with him about it.

Robert came in to relate this encounter, and as we looked at each other we agreed that even without a lot of helpers, this kind of ministry needs to continue. There are far too many around us crying out for someone to care for them, someone to listen to them, someone to share guidance, wisdom and love with them. But they usually don't break down our doors asking for it, do they? That man, in all likelihood, was not going to walk into the church and request counsel and prayer. But having someone within his reach made such a connection easier and possible. And we each need to make ourselves available in as many ways as we can so people can make that connection with those who care...and with God Himself.

So the Prayer Tent will continue to stand on Wednesdays (for now, at least), and people will be able to find someone who cares in a more direct, more accessible way. And why not? Isn't that what God did in sending His Son to connect with us?

there's a hole in the world tonight

The words to the Eagles' song (title of this blog) swirled in my head as we sat in Lena's home waiting for dinner last week. Des had been her husband for almost ten years. He was young, athletic, vibrant and spiritually strong. A chaplain in a local public school and an elder at the Ann St. Church. An impish smile, a penchant for mischief. Known as Peter Pan because he refused to grow up. Definitely the right man in a lot of right places.

As I looked around the room, it resembled a shrine just a little. Pictures, great pictures of Des, Des and Lena, Des and friends on virtually every wall. And with good reason. For a reason that still makes no sense, Des's time with us was forever altered. Changed in the twinkling of an eye.

It was mid-April that he was at home in the afternoon. An unwelcome intruder somehow breached the safety of that home. Not a flesh and blood thief- that kind is easier to see and deal with. No, this was Death himself, there to cut short the years of a seemingly healthy husband, friend, counselor, servant. Des found himself looking into the face of eternity, and it was into its fullness he moved that afternoon. Unknown to everyone, he had an enlarged heart and suffered cardiomyopathy. His life was taken, but not his spirit.

I read a tribute book dedicated to Des. Thoughts, prayers, questions and condolences from friends, church members, students. Many penned by hand, many delivered via Internet. Different stories, different memories, but a common thread- an almost other-worldly kind of love and acceptance from a crazy kind of guy obsessed with gum and peoples' well-being.

The more I read, the more I understood this man whose hair had taken many shapes and colors throughout the years, who took his dog to work with him the first day as a chaplain (just to see what people would say!), and who always seemed to have someone under his wing, learning, growing, or finding refuge.

It became increasingly difficult for me to read because my eyes were watering, my heart breaking. It didn't (and doesn't) seem fair to have someone like Des ripped from us this soon, this quickly. Not fair to his friends and family, not fair to the students who looked to him for guidance, and certainly not fair to Lena. One student wrote, "You always told me life wasn't about fair. I just didn't think it would be this unfair." Those words seemed to sum up my feelings better than any. There's certainly a hole in our world right now.

When it comes down to it, there's much we don't and can't know. But we do know that, despite question and confusion (and yes, unfairness), God loves us and is present. He never said tragedy would bypass us, but that He would walk us through such times, and would work them for good (Romans 8:28). For His purposes, for His glory. For good. But we must decide if we'll believe and trust Him to do that.

We sat and ate that night, the six of us. Chatter, stories, banter and laughter. Later we prayed, and the hurt and tears that are never far away quickly surfaced. It was good, as there's much to work through, and it'll take time. And with all I don't know, there's something that I do. Des would want us to be about his Father's business, to not lose heart and to continue to fight hard. After all, we'll all face this same thief someday, and when that time comes, we want to do it in triumph, in victory, and in assurance of where we're going. Des did, and he'd expect no less from us.

That's how kids who never grow up tend to think.

Location: brisbane, au

reach out and touch...

Our team is settling in to life and ministry in Brisbane. We arrived yesterday a little bleary-eyed, but excited about the opportunities before us. Following a good night's rest, we spent today in the city. Much of it was at an animal sanctuary where we were sufficiently introduced to the unique wildlife of this country (see "www.kaccgoteams.blogspot.com" for a more detailed look).

But the real fun was tonight, when we met at the Ann Street Church for an evening of connection with international students. This weekly gathering draws those desiring stronger English skills, as well as those wanting friendships. We spent our time talking to and interacting with young people from Korea, Japan, China, France, Taiwan (at least!) whose English conversation skills covered a spectrum of ability. The common bond I felt among them was their desire to connect in some way to others who might strengthen them in their new life surroundings.

It's easy for me to forget at times that many around me struggle with relationships. They may feel fractured, isolated, or unable to make the kind of connections that help them cope and move forward in their world. Reasons may be obvious, as with these students from far-away places, or subtle, but they are real and can be paralyzing, crippling, devastating.

The good news that Jesus brought was not just a "get out of hell free" card
(although that's nice), but the hope for restored and restructured relationships- first vertically (with God), then horizontally (with each other). Our hope is in the fact that we don't have to try to make it on our own. That we need each other and we have each other for support, encouragement, and strength in the journey. And that if we take the time to reach out, we discover that many are eager to respond- not only to gain a friend, but to be one. And God knows we can all use a friend.

I'm glad I got to make some new connections tonight. I hope I encouraged them in some way, and I know they strengthened me a little more for what will lie ahead. Make the effort to express good news to those around you by showing the love of Jesus through your desire to connect, and not simply speaking words to that effect.

I find it's a whole lot more powerful...and more friendly, too.



- Posted far too late at night because we ran all day.

Location:Brisbane, AU

the unity of community

It's been a long past few days...capped off by cancer surgery today for my wife, Liz. We had a 5:30 am appointment at our local hospital, so of course we awoke several times last night, just to make sure we didn't sleep through the alarm. And (of course!) Liz was downstairs and ready to go by 5:00- she just wanted to make sure she was gonna be on time for her big day!

Everything went according to plan today: easy, efficient and compassionate check-in and prep; surgery on schedule and a confident doctor (that's a real good quality!); encouraging post-operative report and prognosis for the days ahead. We all breathed a huge sigh of relief today, as everything seemed to dovetail together in a positive way.

But Liz and I both believe there was a huge contributing factor to all the good of the day: we were surrounded by the prayers and presence of brothers and sisters who took it upon themselves to intercede on our behalf, to stand in the gap for us, to be there for us and offer their assistance, to pray for God's healing, strength and peace over our lives.

As news went out of Liz's condition through word of mouth, Facebook, texts, etc., people began to contact us to find out more and tell us that they were praying for us. Many at church connected with us yesterday, and last night and today there were so, so many Facebook notes that indicated our family in Christ was standing firm with us. Some were fasting and praying for Liz, others offered post-op meals (and other help), still others let us know that they would be present today during surgery. And they were. Friends rose from throughout the country and (literally) the world to encourage us.

Needless to say, we're overwhelmed with such a response. As I posted on Facebook, I think Liz and I are accustomed to being providers of care and love to others in times of need, and we forget what it's like to be on the other side of the issue. We're humbled to the point of tears, and thankful for friends and family who understand the place and strength of relationships. Which brings me to the crux of things as I write tonight: this kind of love and concern is what the church is supposed to be about.

We're designed in Christ to be closely connected. Consider some pictures of the Church in Scripture- we're likened to a family, a body, a building. Such images depict an interlocking oneness, a relational intimacy, a one-for-all and all-for-one attitude. Because church

is not somewhere we go, but something we are. It's not an organization but an organism. Not a location, but a people.

And it's this relational aspect that brings and binds us together as one. We're designed to be so interwoven that the Apostle Paul could say that "if one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it." (1 Corinthians 12:26) Our joys and trials are not supposed to be experienced alone, but rather in conjunction with each other. We're designed to do life together, standing with each other, strengthening each other, struggling and laughing with each other.

These last few days, Liz and I have sensed this kind of relationship. Our brothers and sisters really are there for us- neighbors, co-workers, teammates, friends from high school and from last month. People with whom we share daily, and those we've not heard from in a long time. Family from throughout the US, from Canada, Mexico, Bolivia, India, Kenya, the Philippines, Australia, Korea, and a few more wonderful places. We're blessed beyond measure, and know that our part now is to pay this love forward to others who will need it like we have.

Thank you, family, for being there for us. We still have some rough patches ahead, but we're confident we'll get through them by God's grace...and your partnership. Keep sharing, praying, connecting and loving like you have- with those like us who are going through life's trials.

Because that's what you're designed to do.