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?