Practice?

We meet this young man named Eugene. He is 18 years old and is living in a temporary group home. He has lived in 6 different foster placements. He is sleeping on one of the beds we gave to the Angels of Mercy ministry. He is a student at ASU during the school year, but has no where to go during the summer. He is staying in this house by himself and has not had much contact with anyone for the past month.

He is a personable guy. What the heck, we invited him to come help us build last week. He jump on it. It beats sitting at home by himself watching TV. After we built, we turned off the saws and had some intense discussion time with the building group. On the ride home, he commented that he had never had a talk like that. He thanked me for our kindness to him.

This morning our new church, I had the following discussion with the pastor (paraphrased; it was more light-hearted than it probably comes across, but a serious issue).

ME: You need to hear about Eugene. He needs some of us to come along side of him. He has nobody. I don't know your congregation very well. What would happen if we brought Eugene to church?

I have this metaphor that people are like legos. They only have so many pegs and when all their pegs are filled up, there is no room for anyone else. Do the people at this church have their legos full?

G: I think we are no different than other churches. I think it is an issue of selfishness and unless we move beyond this selfishness then it is hard for us to reach out to the needs of others.

ME: Oh, man, you mean this church really is no different than other churches?

G: Well, we talk about following Jesus and him loving the needy in our community through us.

ME: So, the only difference is that you have great messages on Sunday morning (they are!).

G: Most people want to reach out but don't know what to do.

ME: They need to practice. If Eugene came to this church, then we would need to step up. We need to practice not just talking about it. You have to be attentive. He doesn't have much going on in his life right now. He is bored and needs a mentor, or at least some people to be kind to him. He would soak it up. He is a great guy and easy to get along with. It would be easy, inconvenient, but easy.

This seems like a no-brainer. Should we practice loving a orphan, minority, living in poverty that has no one? We come across people like this from time-to-time, if we started bringing them to church, would the congregation step up?

This raises some interesting questions about the church. First, many churches don't have to worry about responding to people like Eugene, because people like Eugene rarely coming across their path. Interesting to think why that might be the case. If a church is "no different than other churches", meaning that they contain people not inclined to be sensitive enough to notice someone like Eugene, much less respond with compassion, it is interesting to think what the heck the church is doing. If a church wants to be loving to people that have been disenfranchised by our cultural system but doesn't know how, what needs to happen? Is good preaching enough? Whatever it is, I would think it would require some intentional, well-directed effort.

Who Wrote This Song?

I was pedeling hard in the gym at noon, about 40 minutes into a workout, when the following song came up on my ipod. Who would you guess wrote this?


Shining light, you always showed me
You always guide me.
I don't know where I'm goin'
Show me now.

I'm waiting to see you
I'm waiting to feel you around me again
Show me your love.
Show me your kind love
Share your compassion.
Let me feel mine
Shed your light all around me
Now that you've found me and I've found you

Shining light, what will you show me now?
What can I bring to you to stand in your glow?
Shining light, when will you show your love?
When can I see you and stand in your glow?


No, it was not written by some contemporary Christian songwriter. It was written by my man, the godfather of grunge, Neil Young. Keep on rockin' in the free world, Neil.

Tonight, Under the Bridge

It was a restless night under the bridge tonight. Many were testy. It looked like a rough crowd. We served meals to about 50 homeless. I was wondering aloud if we would run out of food when a cynical homeless man told me not to worry that this was probably their 10th meal they had been served today. He went on to say that they do not eat much on Fridays and Saturdays because they were all off drinking and doing drugs. As I watched the line being served, I wondered about how much good, if any, was being done. Is this the best use of our time and money?

I’ve asked myself this question many times over the past several years. Most served under the bridge are chronically homeless – not much you can do for them except show them compassion. Some think that this type of thing contributes to the problem, a sort of enabling. Generally speaking, it is easy to see this and all the other stereotypes. It is easy to be cynical.

As I was reflecting on all this tonight, I also noticed one of the volunteers and a homeless man absorbed in conversation. They talked for a good half an hour. When it was time to leave, they embraced. At about that same time, a clear-eyed homeless man came up to me, looked me in the eye, shook my hand, and, with a look of gratitude, thanked me for serving him a meal tonight. These encounters would be easy to miss. I probably missed other opportunities for conversation, compassion, and gratitude tonight.

It is easy to see only goats and weeds; one has to pay attention to see the sheep and the wheat. Loving is a messy business - another good night of learning about it.

LuWanna's Kids Bed #1

A coalition of the willing from R Street Community Church helped us cut out one complete bunk bed tonight. We should be ready to assemble next week.

This bed will go to two of LuWanna's children. She is a widow who is raising her four kids in poverty. As if that were not enough injustice, their house burned down about two weeks ago.

We hope to learn about love by loving them.

Yes, that stuff you see in the first picture is saw dust lite up by the flash. It's organic, so it must be okay to breathe the stuff.

Mark on Jeffrey Pugh on Bonhoeffer

“…that means the death of the metaphysical God [read doctrine]. In fact, the God we think exists, the God of metaphysical construction, is actually an idol. We do not find God in omnipotence, we do not find God in omniscience, we do not find God in those qualities (Greek in origin) that we project onto the reality of God. What Bonhoeffer writes is that the only God that matters is the suffering God, which takes us back to the incarnation of God in Jesus….unless we see God in the disenfranchised, in the suffering, in the despairing, in the downtrodden in the world, we miss God. When religion or faith wants to look anywhere other than there, its going to miss it…”

Pretty strong words from a podcast interview on Homebrewed Christianity. Some other ideas:
Bonhoeffer wrote on this when he was in prison, with the context being that 300 years of doctrine was of no help to the church. The church was completely unable to stand in the face of Hitler's Germany. It was worse than impotent, it was actually complicit. Man's metaphysical constructions of God were used as a means of justifying human constructions and maintaining power over others. He was searching for a stripped down, religionless Christianity.

Let's go on another field trip.

Looking Past the Gates

I have been paying attention to this thing called compassion for a number of years. I have held it as an ideal for many more. I force myself to actually go to places where I come face to face with the needy and suffering. I haven’t always, but feel I must because I live in a gated community. Those metaphorical gates have helped create an illusion of safety, security, and comfort, but they have also robbed me of part of my humanity. They have kept my heart from breaking.

Since I have been paying more attention, I have stopped my car and walked through neighborhoods that in the past I have vigilantly sped through with locked doors, muttering “mayday, mayday”. I have slept on cold asphalt with one eye open in fear that some crack head would crack my head for my boots. I am often apprehensive as my white truck rounds the corner that leads under the bridge each month. I have had to flee the bridge to diffuse a situation with a maniacal drunk who somehow had me caught up in his delusion of the night. I have felt my heart pounding as I watched crack being smoked a few feet from where I slept.

I have intentionally looked into their eyes. In them, I have seen desperate pleas for help, isolation, and loneliness. I have seen them reflect fear, indifference, and hopelessness. I have seen them fill with tears and widen with gratitude.

I have intentionally listened to words that have been waiting to come out. I have listened to a weeping woman with nothing ask for money so that she can feel human again.

I have sat across from a 10 year old watching his shoulders shake and the tears run down his face, unable to express his pain.

There is so much more I need to attend to, but I have to move past my gates.

Nita Graduates!

We met Nita under the bridge about 5 years ago. She is the 3rd generation in her family to have been homeless. As a result she only went to school through 5th grade. She fled with her three children from an abusive husband. She lived in a shelter for 18 months before getting into her own housing. When we met them, they had no food in the cupboards, no refrigerator, and little furniture. She was beat down and living day to day.

Last week she graduated with honors with her AAS degree in computer information systems from Pulaski Tech. Wow.

She is now on the job market looking for work.

He lifts up the poor into a place of honor,
May the glory of the Lord endure forever.

Follow Up Post to Nate's Comment

Nate:

You are right, you are not saddled with lots of responsibilities at this time in your life. You are in an enviable position, one that gives you lots of flexibility and availability.

I also like your focus on systems issues. I have likened trying to live in the kingdom in our culture to trying to keep your footing in a swift current. In the future, God will redeem and reconcile the system. In the present, he uses attentive and responsive followers to bring redemption and reconciliation where they can within a broken system.

I hear what you are saying about the needed system changes, but speaking as someone who finds himself smack in the middle of that system and who is saddled with some prior contract responsibilities, I think we don’t we need to wait to be about kingdom work until we put ourselves in a better system or until the system changes. I think we need to focus on system and environmental changes in parallel with individual and smaller community changes.

My man, Dallas Willard, is fond of saying that you can’t do on-the-spot, what you can’t do off-the-spot, or as I am fond of saying, you can’t give what you don’t got. I think we need to make our spirituality work in some way where we find ourselves. We need to practice sensing the kingdom (God acting) within the system/environment. We need to practice dropping out from the mind and into the heart/spirit where the divine power can gives us everything we need for life and godliness. We can learn to do this here, now. If we can't do it here, we probably won't be good at it in a different system. We have to have something to give.

Given the system we are in (unfortunately both the cultural and church systems), it is not easy to practice compassion, but it most certainly can be done, and we must. However, we will need to overcome some system barriers through some intentional, well-directed effort and a willingness to take some risk. One of the structural barriers is that we have a separation between the rich and the poor. We have metaphorically (and in some cases literally) created fenced in communities. In WLR, we can live our lives without ever having to witness the poverty and violence that are part of the everyday life in large segments of our society. No wonder we are not so good at developing compassion, we never have to have our heart broken. How do we deal with this?

Like you mention, Nate, we can move into a poor neighborhood. A few do this. I think of the Simple Way or the Franciscans, but on the whole, the church has crashed and burned in this regard. I am not sure I could do something like that with kids, given the danger involved. I am also not sure I could do it without some form of supportive community. However, such a radical move is not the only way to show compassion and be involved in the lives of the needy. Mentoring programs can provide an avenue into the poor neighborhoods. Making beds for needy children provides an entry into the homes and lives of the needy.

We can get one of those community garden plots to grow fresh vegetables to give to the poor. However, instead of us doing to work, we can pick up some families, like Stacie and her kids, and tend the garden together, side by side. We could create a safe setting where some real community can happen. During that time, we could learn from them and love on them.

Given the system barriers, this type of brainstorming, effort, and risk-taking will be necessary. If we do, I think we will find the kingdom.

While we plan for the big system change or move, and until that time, let's put ourselves in a position to experience exceptional love and mercy. No need for us to wait. Beauty, justice, relationships, and spirituality are available and present, even in our corrupted system.

Dream On

One of the things I have learned about myself is that I have lots of ideas, but that few of them have any basis in reality. I too often add an L to the end of my idea.

In my mind, I could envision a community that is actively on a venture to tap into and embody exceptional love and mercy. In this community in my mind, there would be a passion and synergy in it that would be compelling and attract others who sense the rightness of what the community was trying to do. In my mind, there are Jesus followers out there that are hungry to participate in kingdom action. There should be no problem getting a critical mass. I can imagine what could be accomplished, what justice, beauty, relationship, and spirituality would come from such a community. I want to be a part of a community like that. What an idea-l?

The discouragement and depression comes when this ideal in my mind hits the pavement. Take our bed building as an example. Most everyone who hears about what we do thinks it is a cool and right thing to do; however, they don't feel compelled enough to join us.

I recently gave a talk to a Christian group at UAMS about what we were doing. There must have been 200 students there. The invitation was made to anyone that wanted to to join us. No one did. At our old church, I visited with several of the life groups and talked about how they could get involved. None did. There's the reality check on my idea.

While I am dreaming, I fail to consider a formidable force in our culture-busyness. Even in my life, it is hard to find the time to even do what we do. Multiply this busyness across a church and you end up with this consciousness in the place that is discouraging and depressing. We are at a new church now. They seem to be talking about social justice. I will engage with them in whatever compassion-based activities that come up. But they live in the same culture I do.

I tend toward pessimism, but I am trying to not let the dream die. My cynical side says screw'em, just do it yourself. My less cynical side says, do it with whoever, however few. Learn to be content with what community I do have with Keith and Nathan. They are exceptional.

There is virtue in simplicity. It is a discipline; probably the only thing that could counter that formidable force in our culture.

My New Center

Since there already is a Center for Action and Contemplation, I am going to have to name my center the Center for Contemplation and Action.

Since I am the only one in this center, I get to be the president. My first order of business is to do 20 minutes of contemplative prayer. My second order of business is to build a bed for an 8-year old who is stuck in a broken body.

Center for Action and Contemplation

I was listening to a podcast the other day from a guy that runs the Center for Action and Contemplation. Snap! I wanted to start a center with that name! What a cool name and what a right-on concept. They go hand in hand.

Over the past 4 years I have been hitting the streets, I have met many that seem to have the action part down. The contemplation part seems less obvious. You can tell by the bitterness that seems to go along with people involved in social justice. Dealing with the injustices and major crises in the community and world will wear on you and can drive you to be bitter and angry. Seems that is where contemplation comes in.

You can act without contemplation, but if you contemplate, you will be driven to action. Most of the notable contemplatives I have been reading talk about this. It makes sense. It worked for me.

A Stake in the Ground

We live in an amazing time in some ways. Some day soon enough, I can picture my grand- and great-grandkids sitting on my lap asking me, “What was it like before we had cell phones and internet, Grandpa?”

The internet has really leveled the playing field as far as theology and religious thought goes. In most of my past, what I learned about theology was primarily from my pastor. He (I attended mostly conservative churches in my past) had the benefit of knowing the broad landscape of theology, biblical hermeneutics (how to read and understand the scriptures), and ecclesiology (church stuff). He had the benefit of wrestling with biblical criticism. Unfortunately, most of what I had taught to me was nice and tidy, wrapped up nicely in a box with a cute little bow on it. I say unfortunately, because I have since learned that the bible is a messy book. The truth and transformation to be had from it does not come without some asking, searching, and knocking. In dumbing it down, it loses some of its power.

Why do pastors do this? They are not doing us any favors. It may be a good way to control the masses, but it is a horrible way to spiritually form your congregation. You know it is messy, tell it to us straight. “You can’t handle the truth!” Yes we can, Jack.

Anyway, the blogs and podcasts I listen to have really opened up the world of all the –ologies and –ics out there that once were only available in the seminaries.

I am beginning to see that I am an Anabaptist, semi-pelagian, preterist, with Armenianist leanings, and have a process, mytho-historical, creative transformation hermeneutic (I think). I have concluded that the authors that resonate most within me can be considered moderate on the theological spectrum. At this point in time, I wear that badge proudly. I seek out moderate thought and am becoming less interested in the conservative, fundamental approach, which characterized most of my Christian life.

You can pray for me if you feel the need, but I am less interested in the dualism of who is in and who is out, who is winning the culture wars, or spending lots of time building fences along the theological and doctrinal boundaries. I want to be set on the center, where Jesus sits. From there, I want to contemplate and act.

How far will doctine and tradition get you? The reformed church in Germany had centuries to indoctrinate and establish their traditions before Hitler entered the scene. Under his rule, the church not only completely collapsed, it was complicite in the horrors that transpired.

I hope that this will be my last post of bitching about the church and the frustrations of imbalanced spirituality (if I can help myself, I am so practiced at this). I want to move past dualism. That seems to inevitably lead to hate and violence. I am going to focus on the center and not worry about where the boundaries need to be drawn out in the periphery.

I am going to focus on contemplation and action and join up with others that do the same.

Update from the BC Zone

We have landed! This has been the shortest time I have ever spent in the BC zone - surprising since I entered the zone with little confidence that we would find a place that would be compelling enough to keep me engaged. I was resigned to drift between churches, being content to sense the direction of the wind of the Spirit and follow.

I kind of liked being in the BC zone. It freed up my tithe to go directly to the community. No need to pay dues to an insular club.

We landed in an unlikley place. They meet in an actual church building, dilapidated, partly burned down, but a building nonetheless. There must be 20 people in attendance on a Sunday morning, which is interesting to me and raises some questions in my mind.

What can I say about it? The worship team's got it right. They are as talented as any church I have ever attended, but the way they do worship is unlike the others. It feels less about working up emotion and displaying the talent and more meditative, even though the play many of the same songs. They sang a Bob Dylan song for the communion song!

The preaching style reminds me of the late John Wimber of the Vineyard Anaheim - plain language, compelling message, comfortable, no formula, no cult of personality.

The first Sunday I attended, I heard 7 words that have been frequently in my thoughts over the past several years, but rarely if ever heard in my previous churches - two of them: social justice and kingdom.

The fact that they are so small both puzzles and delights me.

Meet Dawson

Dawson is 8 years old. We visited him today. He is as sweet as can be and very loving. He has cerbral palsy (extrememly limited motor skills), epilepsy, and limited vision as a result of a premature birth. He has outgrown his crib. He needs a special bed, one that is close to the ground so he can pull himself up with his one good arm, and one that will keep him safe through the night where he is prone to seizures.

His parents can't afford a specialized bed.

Dawson is one of the weak of this world. The world may not, but God lifts the poor and the weak into a place of honor. He does this through the sensitive hearts of His people. We will join this network of goodness.

Let's build Dawson a bed of his own. How hard could it be?

Enter His Gates and His Courts

...for the Lord our God is good! His love endures forever!

We delivered two beds to two more of Stacie's children. They all have beds now. God is good and we were in the middle of it tonight.

Next up, we got a call from the grandmother of a 10-year old disabled boy who needs a bed. A special bed, one that he can transfer from his wheelchair into his bed. These types of beds are expensive and the mother cannot afford to buy him one. We will visit the boy next week to assess his needs.

Anyone want to help build a bed for a 10 year old boy in a wheelchair that doesn't have a bed? How hard can it be?

On Being "Bold"

Last night, we worked on two headboards for the final two beds for Stacie's kids. At this point in time, I couldn't bring a glass of clean water to a cholera victim in Zimbabwe, or help the parents in the Congo find their missing kids, but I could build some headboards for some kids across town that do not have beds. We should have them done next week. Then we will have an opportunity to look into their eyes one more time. That's the best part. It is where the goodness of God intersects with their lives.

After we turned the saws off, we discussed the issue of "preaching" to others in one-on-one settings or with a few. I don't do it much anymore. Why? Good question. I try and follow my heart, and that is not where it leads me.

About two weeks after my "conversion" at 22 years of age, I was shadowing someone witnessing on the streets. TWO WEEKS! We use to go up to Whittier Blvd (from American Graffitti fame) on Friday and Saturday nights. It was a popular cruising strip with lots of young hoods. We would essentially preach to whoever. New to this Christian culture I found myself in, I learned how to do this type of street preaching. Did I know of what I was preaching? No. All I had were words in my head. No discipleship, just thrown out onto the streets with a mission. The mission? I was now in the club and they were out of the club. Our mission was to get them into the club, which just took a simple prayer. When that did happen (rarely, but it did happen), we would give them a copy of a pocket size new testament and be on our way. We were boldly racking up souls for heaven. What higher purpose could their be?

That was some kind of whacky theology. Discipleship was secondary. We were just plucking people out of the river, just upstream from the deadly waterfall. Who has time for discipleship? Who cared whether our being was changing or forming, or whether we were actually loving anyone? We reasoned that what we were doing was actually the highest form of love. No need to mess with the lower forms, those are nice, but secondary. We were being "bold", an admirable quality in that culture. To not be meant we were ashamed of the gospel. I now wonder, could it be the fear and shame we fought off in doing this type of bold evangelism was not that at all, but was really our hearts trying to get us to pay attention to its leading - stop what you are doing, you first have to learn to love.

Have I lost my boldness? Should I work to regain that type of boldness?

I like to think I have learned something over the years. I like to think I have progressed rather than regressed. As well intentioned as I remember we were at that time, I think we had no clue how to sense the presence of God in and around us. We were operating from some other place. Our interactions with people were one-sided. We were not different than the Mormon or Jehovah's Witness missionaries. We had no interest in learning something in the interaction. We had no real love for the people. We were telling, not asking. And we did so oblivious to unitended consequences.

The Hippocrates Oath is to first do no harm. When all you know to do is drive a bulldozer into interactions, people are going to be harmed. I question how much good being bold in an untrained, immature, spriritually unformed manner does. I did see some "good" things happen; however, I was blind to the harm that surely followed in our wakes. Where else does the nonChristian culture get their jadedness, except through things like this?

I didn't need to be on the streets preaching two weeks after my conversion. I needed to learn from a master for three years. I needed to retreat to the desert for three years to learn from God.

Now, when I go under the bridge, I rarely preach to any of the homeless. They get that before each meal everyday - it is required to eat. I practice something else. I want to become the kind of person that loves them. I want to learn to tap into the divine resouces that will allow me to practice exceptional love and mercy - Luke 6 stuff. I want to learn to do what it takes to actually help and not harm. All that is hard. Preaching "boldly" without all this is easy, but likely produces unintended harm. The power is in the love, not in the boldness. Can both be done? Yes, but the preaching and boldness must be subsequent to being a loving person in the inner being. So, if you want to talk about how to pull this off, I am interested. I am not interested in boldly climbing into the bulldozer. That's too easy and uninteresting.

More Observations from the BC Zone

Been to one church that provided a fist full of brochures and documents about all the things the church had going on. None of them involved the community. I guess they were like a club with lots of programs for the members. I wish you much success, I am sure it would be fun, but no thanks.

Another church I visited just enough to determine that the pastor was a bit too enamored with their demonination...and those robes - not the St. Francis, humble type robs - the stately, majestic, power robes that seemed to be worn for...I'm not sure why. My advice, its Jesus we should be enamored with. And take off that rob. If you must wear one, try a simple, humble one like the rest of the altar guild were wearing. The leader should be the servant, not the king. Godspeed to your growing, enthusiastic church, but no thanks.

And then there was the latest, rapidly growing dynamo church. I felt like I was in Branson. My 10 year old loved it, with all its choreographed programming, state-of-the-art multimedia, and well-paid programmers. I swear, everyone on stage was either paid to do what they were doing, or had special training from some stage manager from Branson. Normal people don't act that way. You have to be intentional and well trained to smile and move like that in unison. You sure are pulling them in. I heard you talk about it and your accomplishments twice in the one service I attended. The mouth speaks what is in the heart - or you can't hide your pathology, it finds a way of coming out. Where your heart is, there is your treasure. I wish you many blessings and kingdom fruit, but no thanks.

Then there was the case of deceptive advertising. It was billed as something new, edgy, unconventional, relevant. Meeting in the river market was a strategic move. It sent a message. The pastor was polished and was making attempts to be cool - he called the apostles 'the boys'. Didn't Jesus tell us to be aware of wolves in sheep's clothing? He forgot to warn us of baptists in post-modern clothing. My maxim that you can't hide your pathology again. Does a traditional baptist, conservative, evangelical message about sin, wrath, heaven, and hell with the passages read from the Message and meeting in a bar count as "something new and fresh." Does singing explicit worship songs with two awesome guitarists and a message that could have been preached at any of the 100 or so other conservative churches in the area count as "seeker-sensitive"? I wondered if some of the other aspects of a robust gospel might have been more "new, fresh, and relevant" for the post-modern folks they seem to want to attract? My advice - don't sucker punch them. Amway does that. It is not a good way to do your friends. I wish you grace and peace. May God's presence be with you. But no thanks.

Then there was the small, struggling church of maybe 20. They couldn't afford the association fees, got kicked out, and had to change there name. They meet in a dilapidated church building that was half burned down. The 20 looked like misfits. Some with tats, peircings, long hair, shaved head. An asperger's dude hung in the corner. No love bombs, just looks - a new guy. I guess they are not used to getting new guys in very often. Three pastors, one a woman, and only one paid part time, when there is money. Though they did not have a fist full of fancy brochures to give me, in the one they did have, one of the two paragraphs described their desire to serve the community. The unpaid worship team structured the songs to be meditative - extra choruses, extra bridges. After the worship, they took a break. Cool. The message was presented in a down-to-earth, humble style. No heavy-handed persuasion. No polish, no stories from a pastors resource book, no heurmanuntical devices were used or needed. The message stood on its own. Just a clear, real presentation delivered in humility (He couldn't be anything else in that setting). Hmmmm.......not sure yet why you are so small. Godspeed to your church. Thanks. Maybe I'll be back.

Observations from the BC Zone

Okay, so I was a bit cranky in the last post. I will concede the point that most churches are good places with good people. In the bigger picture, there are some pretty horrendous and evil things in this world. We all know that at times, the church has participated in its share of cruelty; however, by and large, churches are sharply skewed toward the side of good on the evil-goodness continuum. Even the inward-focused churches - I can think of worse things those people could be doing with their time. Just look around, there are plenty of people engaging in those worse things.

But to split some hairs on good side of the continuum for a minute, there are different visions out there across churches. I am needing to align myself with a group with a compelling vision, at least compelling to me. This is to take nothing away from the church we left or the churches we will visit and choose not to join. Grace, peace, and godspeed to them. We are on the same side.

But I have chosen sides. I choose love, mercy and goodness and their author.

The other night, instead of sitting in someones living room with a small group of people just like me, being vulnerable with each other and talking all night, I spent my time listening to podcast updates from Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders). I heard updates and stories about Sudan, Burma, and Zimbabwe. Did you know that there is a raging cholera epidemic going on right now in Zimbabwe? (an easily treatable disease, something as simple as clean water will save a life). I heard parents from the Democratic Republic of Congo talk about two of their children who have been missing for several months. They got separated while fleeing in the dark of night from the violence of the rebel Lord's Resistance Army, who has been committing unspeakably evil acts on innocent civilians across that country.

As I was listening, I thought to myself, Does anybody give a shit about any of this? I feel pretty certain that none of this was part of the conversation of any of the small groups who met in living rooms across our city the other night. As I visit new churches, I wonder if there are people there that do. I am looking, but it is not apparent. I want to give a shit and I want to hang with others who do. As dispair was sinking in the other night, I recognized that there were people who cared and were talking about it. MSF had a team of 200 in Zimbabwe. Now that would be quit a congregation to hang with. They need water and sanitation engineers. I wonder what kind of training I would need. Perhaps an apprenticeship?

Leaving Church

I am in that unenviable “between churches” zone. The process of visiting other churches is awkward. I feel like I am a kid going to a new school. In many social situations I already feel as if I am standing outside looking in through a window to a party to which I was not invited. If the church is large, it is not as much of a problem. Many of those people do not know each other so you can more easily blend in. Probably a reason why so many go – it is easy to hide. However, in small churches, everyone knows you are the new guy. I suppose it is awkward for some of them as well – they feel obliged to go make small talk with the new guy. Problem is, I hate small talk. I suspect that this awkwardness keeps people at churches longer than they know they should.

One point about our leaving our previous church, we stayed through several of the bloodlettings over several years. Many of the reasons people left were either incomprehensible or blatantly ego driven. I was pretty sure there was little prayer of examen or practicing of the spiritual disciplines through the process. You could easily judge it by its fruit – its wake of destruction. Nothing of value was produced through the process. An opportunity for some real discipleship, modeling, and learning was missed. Apparently, few had the balls to take that on. Was it too much to ask of our spiritual leaders to actually try to make their spirituality work? They crashed and burned – all of them. Where does that leave the schmuck in the pew? No one was paying that dude to try to make his spirituality work, he has no chance.

Despite all the out of shape spirituality going on, at the time, I had no interest in getting involved in the bloodletting. I figured as long as the kingdom (i.e, God acting) was present, I would ignore the triviality and try to sense the direction of the wind. Let them argue about where to plant the church flowers. The Spirit moves like the wind, undeterred, seeking attentive and willing apprentices to Jesus to establish beachheads for the kingdom. Interestingly, it could be sensed in the midst of the bloodletting, in unlikely places, places that were not being called attention to. Those kingdom places were perfect settings for perceiving the movement of God. Missed by most, perhaps due to the distraction of all the blood spilling around – self or other inflicted.

Church recapitulates life. It is a microcosm of the world.

Anyway, unfortunately, a reason to leave did come. I hate that it came at the tail end of a long series of flesh-eating. That association is unfortunate, as it is a spurious one. It was not about cult of personality. It was not from offense either taken or given. It was about me. Not so much ego (through can it ever not involve some aspect of the ego?) as need. I am a borderline agnostic. I need a community that is compelling in order to do what I feel I was destined to do. So I left in search for one, but not very optimistic. It feels more like meeting God in the desert than going to a movie, play, concert, lecture, or social gathering. Is there such a place? I will know it when I find it.

The Tale of Two Tims

Last night, under the Broadway bridge.

I met a young man named Tim. He lost his job recently. Knowing that he couldn't afford to stay in his apartment, he began making plans. He found a tent at Walmart that was on sale. It was a large, family size tent. He found a place in the woods, cleared it, and set up his tent. He found a friend that needed a place and paired up with him. You can't set up a tent and leave it unattended out there. He found a job at a local theater and they were training him to be a projectionist. He was saving $20-30 per paycheck, putting it in a can and burying it. "I know that for any place, I will need a deposit." He carried and had in his tent his worldy possessions. He had a plan and was working it. He told me that he was a Navy brat and attended 12 different schools growing up. What a resourcefull guy. Good news, Tim, the kingdom of heaven is accessible to you.


I met another Tim last night. He was a co-worker of Keith's. This was his first time under the bridge with us. His two kids served cookies and handed out cokes to the homeless, and they did it unabashed and with a smile. Tim spent most of the night talking with three of the homeless off to the side. Toward the end of the night, I wandered over to them. I noticed as I approached, that the three homeless were giving Tim their rapt attention. As I listened in, Tim was doing some old fashioned preaching or street witnessing, whatever you want to call it. I noted that the three were eating it up. They did not look put off in the least. I also noticed that the three would jump in, at times, with some preaching of their own.

I have done street preaching in the past. Its not really my style at this point. As I listened, I wondered if it was doing any good. Did it add anything specific to their situation? They seemed to be trully encouraged, or at least glad to be having the conversation, if that is what it was. By the way they responded, they clearly had experience in this type of situation. They were quoting the word, saying amen at the right times. Yet they were on the streets. Where did they go and what did they do after we left? They clearly had relationships with other known addicts down there, though they did not look intoxicated last night. I thought about what it was like talking with a drunk. Drunks will engage with you, agree with you, pray with you, promise you, cry with you, and make just about any committment with you, that night. But tomorrow is another day.

I am not judging what Tim was doing. I was impressed. I just wondered what good it did. The dictim "there is no humanitarian solution to humanitarian crises" was ringing in my head. The encounter appeared to be a good one, though I would be cautious about overstating what good it did. We can just be statisfied that, at that time, it was good and it stood on its own, but it was the easy thing to do. We spent about 1.5 hours under the bridge. We drove up in our warm cars and left to our warm houses. No sweat. No disruption in our lifestyle. Our lives go on, as did theirs.

Jesus preached, and for some, he sent them home with the encouragement to sin no more. What happened after that?

There is a network of goodness, led and fueled by the Spirit. Maybe the preaching encounters are just a part of that network. Maybe the change comes from participating in and hanging out in that network over time. Is that network seamless, however, especially on the streets?

Just some more thoughts from under the bridge. A great practicing ground. A great spiritual formation playing field. One night that was worth about six months of sitting in someone's living room or in some church classroom talking and being vulernable. Churches seem to have it wrong for the most part. Hit the streets mostly, then hang out in a small group occassionally, not the other way around.