I learned a good new word in Spanish: "gente," or more specifically, "mi gente;" "my people." Maybe a better word is folk. It comes from Latin, "gens," meaning "kind, type, or sort." Generic, genus, gentile come from this word. The reason I like the word is because the context I learned it in indicated it meant a close relationship, something more than just "people." Not quite immediate family.
Everybody needs a gente. What would Melissa and I do without a gente? On the one hand, we have family that sticks by us, helps out in unbelievable ways. I think that's the direction Church needs to go, to be a gente for people with no gente. To be a gente to people who already have one, so we can see what gente is really all about.
Advent is a time to welcome Nazareth into our hearts and homes. What would it mean for our hearts and homes to be "Little Nazareths," a place where Jesus is welcomed and nurtured, where St. Joseph is what it means to be a real man and St. Mary what it means to be a real woman.
What a gente God has for us if we can adopt it!
p/g
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Advent
"Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Nathanael asks when Philip tells him they have found the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. We ask those kinds of questions all the time. We all snicker if someone says they're from some really country town, with names like Viper or Gravel Switch. Interestingly no one laughs if they tell you they're from Pig Town (which is what the "York" in New York means).
But I think we ask it in different ways, when we doubt, when we fear, when we don't forgive, when we don't repent-- in short, whenever we fall back on thinking Jesus is just a good idea, something other than the Son of God.
p/g
But I think we ask it in different ways, when we doubt, when we fear, when we don't forgive, when we don't repent-- in short, whenever we fall back on thinking Jesus is just a good idea, something other than the Son of God.
p/g
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Trout Fishing in America
When I first moved to Lexington 11 years ago, occasionally someone would call and ask for Richard. The first two times this happened, I asked “Richard who?” “Richard Brautigan,” came the answer. I thought it was a prank played by one of my friends. “Brautigan’s dead, dude.” The voice on the other line was taken aback, and I got to wondering if it was a serious call. Sometime later, I got to talking to someone else asking for Richard Brautigan, and I said a little more gently, “He’s dead.”
I was telling the truth, knowingly and not-so-knowingly. On the one hand, the writer Richard Brautigan, who I thought my prank-playing friends were asking for, is dead (they know I don’t really care much for him, and I wondered if his work was the subject of one of my rants… thus the prank calls to egg me on… sad, I know). On the other hand, the Richard Brautigan the callers were really wanting to talk to was dead as well, recently deceased.
Richard Brauitigan, the beat writer, has caught up with me. I don’t know that I like him any better after re-reading him this spring. But I can’t get his book Trout Fishing in America out of my head. It’s not that it’s any good, because empirically, it’s not. But there is something poignant in the writer that begins to invade my experience of the book.
Brautigan’s biography intrigues me because those who knew him best recall that he never spoke of his mother, any brothers or sisters or his childhood in poverty (he threw a brick through a police station window so they would take him to jail and he might get something to eat), . It’s like he just showed up in Haight-Ashbury one day. His last book, So the Wind Won’t Blow It All Away was a reminiscence of his life, including his childhood. He committed suicide a few years after it was published. Some say when he broke his silence, that’s what killed him. Who knows.
The question it makes me ask, the question the nervous bungling of the trout fisherman (esp as a child) in the story makes me ask, is how does the church reach into such people’s lives? I mean, there are millions of little Richard Brautigans. Whatever we can say of the success of his literary career, he was never happy. There was never enough money, booze, women, or adulation of fans to fill the emptiness of a loveless childhood. That’s the way it is. The things we try to fill life up with kill us.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, tell us about Melissa. But that’s what I’m trying to do. While we were still in Louisville, we were sitting around thinking about things like this. About people like Richard Brautigan. People not as famous who had difficult childhoods, and no one protected them. It got back to me and Melissa remembering how much the Kingdom of God was our first love, and how a million things crowd it out. And then bam, you’re sick, maybe dying, and all those things that crowded out the Kingdom are looking pretty stupid.
Melissa said, “Whether we have 1 year or sixty, we have to keep laughing.” And we went on. Praying. Loving. Believing. Living abnormally. Trout Fishing in America is a strange metaphor for… life? Something that never was but you still lament its passing?
I used to fly fish. That is, I had a fly rod and would practice catching blue gills at the pond on USM’s campus. I was hoping one day to go out West, specifically to Bishop, CA, where my great grandfather used to fish. He was from France, the mountains, where the trout are abundant. I thought I might forge some connection. Never happened, because I am a wretched fisherman (as Dane Conrad can attest). And because ultimately, trying to attach some significance to a past you never had doesn’t go anywhere. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to figure anything out about Trout Fishing in America-- it’s a character, a place, an idea, something you can’t quite hold on to.
Perhaps things aren’t as weird as an early 60s novel, but we are using something, searching for something to fill up our lives, and if it’s not Jesus, I don’t fancy your chances of making it out alive.
p/g
I was telling the truth, knowingly and not-so-knowingly. On the one hand, the writer Richard Brautigan, who I thought my prank-playing friends were asking for, is dead (they know I don’t really care much for him, and I wondered if his work was the subject of one of my rants… thus the prank calls to egg me on… sad, I know). On the other hand, the Richard Brautigan the callers were really wanting to talk to was dead as well, recently deceased.
Richard Brauitigan, the beat writer, has caught up with me. I don’t know that I like him any better after re-reading him this spring. But I can’t get his book Trout Fishing in America out of my head. It’s not that it’s any good, because empirically, it’s not. But there is something poignant in the writer that begins to invade my experience of the book.
Brautigan’s biography intrigues me because those who knew him best recall that he never spoke of his mother, any brothers or sisters or his childhood in poverty (he threw a brick through a police station window so they would take him to jail and he might get something to eat), . It’s like he just showed up in Haight-Ashbury one day. His last book, So the Wind Won’t Blow It All Away was a reminiscence of his life, including his childhood. He committed suicide a few years after it was published. Some say when he broke his silence, that’s what killed him. Who knows.
The question it makes me ask, the question the nervous bungling of the trout fisherman (esp as a child) in the story makes me ask, is how does the church reach into such people’s lives? I mean, there are millions of little Richard Brautigans. Whatever we can say of the success of his literary career, he was never happy. There was never enough money, booze, women, or adulation of fans to fill the emptiness of a loveless childhood. That’s the way it is. The things we try to fill life up with kill us.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, tell us about Melissa. But that’s what I’m trying to do. While we were still in Louisville, we were sitting around thinking about things like this. About people like Richard Brautigan. People not as famous who had difficult childhoods, and no one protected them. It got back to me and Melissa remembering how much the Kingdom of God was our first love, and how a million things crowd it out. And then bam, you’re sick, maybe dying, and all those things that crowded out the Kingdom are looking pretty stupid.
Melissa said, “Whether we have 1 year or sixty, we have to keep laughing.” And we went on. Praying. Loving. Believing. Living abnormally. Trout Fishing in America is a strange metaphor for… life? Something that never was but you still lament its passing?
I used to fly fish. That is, I had a fly rod and would practice catching blue gills at the pond on USM’s campus. I was hoping one day to go out West, specifically to Bishop, CA, where my great grandfather used to fish. He was from France, the mountains, where the trout are abundant. I thought I might forge some connection. Never happened, because I am a wretched fisherman (as Dane Conrad can attest). And because ultimately, trying to attach some significance to a past you never had doesn’t go anywhere. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to figure anything out about Trout Fishing in America-- it’s a character, a place, an idea, something you can’t quite hold on to.
Perhaps things aren’t as weird as an early 60s novel, but we are using something, searching for something to fill up our lives, and if it’s not Jesus, I don’t fancy your chances of making it out alive.
p/g
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Kingdom Service II
I have been doing some more thinking about the Kingdom Service, esp about how a sermon that is short sentences broken by the pauses of translation into two languages still gets across. It has everything to do with the Holy Spirit. I was preaching from 1 Peter 1:1-9, about remembering our true identity, being together from all over the place, belonging nowhere except in the “gathered community.”
The reason the sermon worked is because the Holy Spirit had already done the work! We were the gathered community, we were aware of Christ’s sacrifice for us, we grope towards living into our identity as created, redeemed children of God.
I suppose if none of that were true for us, I would have had to come up with something eloquent so no one would have felt cheated! We come expecting because we have received.
Pray, pray, pray. This is all you can do-- pray that you will be open to the power of the Holy Spirit to do the work He always does: convincing the world of its sinfulness, drawing people to Christ, providing faith, and then empowering them to live the Christian life. I guess based on where we were, I could have simply said, “Jesus. Holy Spirit. All of us together. Look!” and we all would have really felt something! The Holy Spirit had already done the work the Word was talking about!
p/g,
Aaron
The reason the sermon worked is because the Holy Spirit had already done the work! We were the gathered community, we were aware of Christ’s sacrifice for us, we grope towards living into our identity as created, redeemed children of God.
I suppose if none of that were true for us, I would have had to come up with something eloquent so no one would have felt cheated! We come expecting because we have received.
Pray, pray, pray. This is all you can do-- pray that you will be open to the power of the Holy Spirit to do the work He always does: convincing the world of its sinfulness, drawing people to Christ, providing faith, and then empowering them to live the Christian life. I guess based on where we were, I could have simply said, “Jesus. Holy Spirit. All of us together. Look!” and we all would have really felt something! The Holy Spirit had already done the work the Word was talking about!
p/g,
Aaron
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Stuff
I have been chewing on something Melissa said a few weeks ago, something about getting thru the worst of the stomach pain by praying and hearing God say something like "Haven't I always been here? You wouldn't have made it in life even to the age where you got cancer if I hadn't been there." I wonder what kind of answer that is, and how does it make a difference? I know it does, but I wonder how? I wonder how in the spiritual life when you confront difficult issues, acceptance and honesty are so comforting whereas in the simple things, or the mundane things, acceptance and honesty are seen as painful, naive, and cruel?
She has scans December 1st. Just in time for the holidays, she says wryly.
You have to be thankful when things are going ok and you can't really think of what you're thankful for. And you have to be thankful when there's nothing.
She has scans December 1st. Just in time for the holidays, she says wryly.
You have to be thankful when things are going ok and you can't really think of what you're thankful for. And you have to be thankful when there's nothing.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Kingdom Service
We had the first "Kingdom Service" since I've been here. Now I wonder why we waited so long. We get all the services together for one service. That, in my mind, is going to be increasingly important. It is hard enough to keep a multicultural church together when things are flowing. In order to keep it together long term, people have to form relationships across the services, across cultures.
I can't tell you what it is... I know that when we do translation the way we did Sunday, the sermon is not technically as good. I spoke, then Cedrick Lukonga translated, then Ruben. So there is not the usual narrative flow that I work best with. BUt somehow, it works, and works well. I don't mean it is "good." I mean people respond. It's the Holy Spirit. He can do more with His own words than He can with me dressing them up. It is humbling. I used to be worried when people would say, "good sermon." I would always say, "By His grace," so there might be no mistake. Now, I have to trust that in ways I only thought I did.
Even if the sermon is simply short declarative sentences that lend themselves to translation, it works. Shame on me for thinking anything else!
p/g
I can't tell you what it is... I know that when we do translation the way we did Sunday, the sermon is not technically as good. I spoke, then Cedrick Lukonga translated, then Ruben. So there is not the usual narrative flow that I work best with. BUt somehow, it works, and works well. I don't mean it is "good." I mean people respond. It's the Holy Spirit. He can do more with His own words than He can with me dressing them up. It is humbling. I used to be worried when people would say, "good sermon." I would always say, "By His grace," so there might be no mistake. Now, I have to trust that in ways I only thought I did.
Even if the sermon is simply short declarative sentences that lend themselves to translation, it works. Shame on me for thinking anything else!
p/g
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Blessed Be The Name of the Lord
At the Wednesday prayer meeting, Michele Rodriguez led the singing. She started with “Blessed Be the Name of The Lord.” That’s a song I had a hard time with when I first heard it. Kelly Patton used to sing it at our service at Christ Church. It has some tough lines: “Blessed be your name on the road marked with suffering, when there’s pain in the offering, blessed be your name.” Honest, and so far so good. But then, more honesty that’s hard to take: “You give and take away, you give and take away, my heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be your name.”
I got over my apprehensions about it when Melissa sang it very prayerfully and praise-fully.
Michele prefaced the song by saying in youth they were studying Job. As she talked about the beginning of Job, the “deal” between God and Satan, there was one of those moments where you understand something you have known. On the surface, God allowing Satan to do whatever to Job is jarring. But as Michele was talking, I found myself thinking this story is not about Job. It’s about people and evil. Everyone will experience what Job did, and the story, in a very artful way, deals with the deepest problem for theology: the problem of evil. Human choice is one part of evil, perhaps the only kind of evil the modern mind can accept. But Job also deals with the malevolent force present in the fabric of the universe.
And of course, we all know this on some level, but the story of Job gets so personal, we are so sympathetic that we cringe at the injustice and pain. I find that I lose sight of myself in the story. It may be the hardest story to break into in the Bible. On the one hand, it is so very human and so I am right there. On the other hand, it’s hard to see it as a story about everyone. Do I hesitate to think Job’s story is the way of the world? Maybe it’s just me.
Of course, Melissa has a much better insight than I do, living the story, and at the same time counting her blessings that she is not Job, etc. One great truth in Job: the best thing that your friends can do is be quiet, but be there. There is a time for talking. But in pastoral care the one thing you have to make sure of is that if you are talking to someone who is suffering, you’re not trying to answer your own questions about pain of God’s justice. And how hard that is for me; I always want something to say.
Melissa has scans coming up. If she is clear, woo hoo! But there is a lot of anxiety about it—almost wish they had not told us. Just let us walk in and say, “Hey you have scans today.” She is basically over the stomach pains that started in August (man, time has flown). She is eating more, has some more energy. Now she needs more confidence to get out and about when she has the energy.
Norbert Itoula was a mathematics instructor in Congo. He now has a job at Transylvania University as a janitor—in the Math and Sciences building! He hopes that he can have some contact with the staff and maybe as he learns English, get a better job in the same building!
The boys don’t have to work too hard at being boys. Sure, they are exasperating at times (bath time especially). Or they just go wild. But they are also unbelievably sweet and funny. How hard it is to be a father, tho. It is a foreign occupation, not natural. The human tendencies are too much there. One day this summer, I thought about the gospel’s beginning and end (narratively speaking). Joseph takes care of Jesus and Mary, and at the end, John takes care of Mary. There is a great need for men who will take care of their families in the ways that Sts. Joseph and John did.
It’s a messed up world. In our quest to be in ministry to and with the school across the street, we are gathering information, looking for needs. It only intensifies the idea that what we need to do is not a program, but an invasion of people into the life of the community. We don’t need a plan, we need people. Lenin had a saying that I think makes strange sense: “quantity has a quality all its own.” The Rock La Roca doesn’t have money (we’ll take some if you want to send it), but what we have is people. We need prayers to determine how we will motivate lots of people to move in. We need 100 people from our worshipping community who will each get to know 2 families in the area. Something like that—pray for it, please. One of the tough stories that hit us was a boy who comes to our church. He lives with his grandmother. His dad is out of state. His mom left one night and has not come back—no one knows where she is. You can well imagine how heartbroken he is. So what do we need? People to come and help with children’s ministry? Well, sure, that’s a start. But what we really need are lots of people who will hang out with our kids, one-on-one, playing and praying with them.
Life is messy. We do everything we can to stay away from that. And ministry is depressing if you don’t have the right info up front. Most of your addicts will die. Most of the people who come out of homosexuality will fall back into it. Your liars will go back to lying, and some people will never stop being s.o.b.’s. Narrow is the way that leads to eternal life, and few find it. You just have to know that going in. But you also have to know that the work of Jesus is messy. Look, He was born, and that’s messy. He died and that was messy. He talked to people, healed them and that was messy. He sent His disciples out and that was messy.
p/g
I got over my apprehensions about it when Melissa sang it very prayerfully and praise-fully.
Michele prefaced the song by saying in youth they were studying Job. As she talked about the beginning of Job, the “deal” between God and Satan, there was one of those moments where you understand something you have known. On the surface, God allowing Satan to do whatever to Job is jarring. But as Michele was talking, I found myself thinking this story is not about Job. It’s about people and evil. Everyone will experience what Job did, and the story, in a very artful way, deals with the deepest problem for theology: the problem of evil. Human choice is one part of evil, perhaps the only kind of evil the modern mind can accept. But Job also deals with the malevolent force present in the fabric of the universe.
And of course, we all know this on some level, but the story of Job gets so personal, we are so sympathetic that we cringe at the injustice and pain. I find that I lose sight of myself in the story. It may be the hardest story to break into in the Bible. On the one hand, it is so very human and so I am right there. On the other hand, it’s hard to see it as a story about everyone. Do I hesitate to think Job’s story is the way of the world? Maybe it’s just me.
Of course, Melissa has a much better insight than I do, living the story, and at the same time counting her blessings that she is not Job, etc. One great truth in Job: the best thing that your friends can do is be quiet, but be there. There is a time for talking. But in pastoral care the one thing you have to make sure of is that if you are talking to someone who is suffering, you’re not trying to answer your own questions about pain of God’s justice. And how hard that is for me; I always want something to say.
Melissa has scans coming up. If she is clear, woo hoo! But there is a lot of anxiety about it—almost wish they had not told us. Just let us walk in and say, “Hey you have scans today.” She is basically over the stomach pains that started in August (man, time has flown). She is eating more, has some more energy. Now she needs more confidence to get out and about when she has the energy.
Norbert Itoula was a mathematics instructor in Congo. He now has a job at Transylvania University as a janitor—in the Math and Sciences building! He hopes that he can have some contact with the staff and maybe as he learns English, get a better job in the same building!
The boys don’t have to work too hard at being boys. Sure, they are exasperating at times (bath time especially). Or they just go wild. But they are also unbelievably sweet and funny. How hard it is to be a father, tho. It is a foreign occupation, not natural. The human tendencies are too much there. One day this summer, I thought about the gospel’s beginning and end (narratively speaking). Joseph takes care of Jesus and Mary, and at the end, John takes care of Mary. There is a great need for men who will take care of their families in the ways that Sts. Joseph and John did.
It’s a messed up world. In our quest to be in ministry to and with the school across the street, we are gathering information, looking for needs. It only intensifies the idea that what we need to do is not a program, but an invasion of people into the life of the community. We don’t need a plan, we need people. Lenin had a saying that I think makes strange sense: “quantity has a quality all its own.” The Rock La Roca doesn’t have money (we’ll take some if you want to send it), but what we have is people. We need prayers to determine how we will motivate lots of people to move in. We need 100 people from our worshipping community who will each get to know 2 families in the area. Something like that—pray for it, please. One of the tough stories that hit us was a boy who comes to our church. He lives with his grandmother. His dad is out of state. His mom left one night and has not come back—no one knows where she is. You can well imagine how heartbroken he is. So what do we need? People to come and help with children’s ministry? Well, sure, that’s a start. But what we really need are lots of people who will hang out with our kids, one-on-one, playing and praying with them.
Life is messy. We do everything we can to stay away from that. And ministry is depressing if you don’t have the right info up front. Most of your addicts will die. Most of the people who come out of homosexuality will fall back into it. Your liars will go back to lying, and some people will never stop being s.o.b.’s. Narrow is the way that leads to eternal life, and few find it. You just have to know that going in. But you also have to know that the work of Jesus is messy. Look, He was born, and that’s messy. He died and that was messy. He talked to people, healed them and that was messy. He sent His disciples out and that was messy.
p/g
Friday, November 10, 2006
Entering Scripture
Things look different and in some ways better on a number of fronts for Melissa. Her appetite is getting better. After three months with stomach problems, that is good! Her hair is coming back. She has more energy. But some days are still hard.
And then, we have scans beginning of next month. There's a lot of anxiety about that-- what will they show? Cancer still gone?
Just before the bone marrow transplant, the cancer had spread to a lot of places. Some you knew only because the scan said so, others because she could feel them. I was too chicken for her to show me.
One of the places was in her back, and it caused almost unbearable pain. Psalm 38, a Psalm of confession, says, "My back is filled with searing pain" (verse 7). Even though the Psalm is about confession, about coming to God when our sin gets the best of us, there is something important about the honesty of the Psalms, how they confront and express EVERYTHING. Nothing is hidden. And so, in God's word we find not simply comfort or help, but also solidarity.
Curtis, Ruben, and I have had some opportunities to talk about what The Rock La Roca is up to-- to pastors in the ordination process and also to a church planting class at Asbury Seminary. I didn't really have much to say about church planting because I am new here. I focused instead on what looks to be something vital for the future of churches in America: ministry in a multi-cultural environment.
But, the thing that interested me most was a comment Ron Crandall, the seminary professor, made after our presentation-- in Acts chapter 6, the early church deals with a multicultural issue: Greek Jews feel their widows are ignored in food distribution, while Hebraic Jews get preferential treatment. I had not looked at it as a cultural issue. I was always intrigued by the outcome: the apostles appoint some fellows (notably Stephen and Philip) to make sure no one is short-changed. the fascinating part to me is that you never see Philip or Stephen handing out bread: they are evangelizing!
So, after Dr. Crandall's comment, I began to wonder: is there a natural outcome in the church when it seriosuly tries to draw different cultures together such that the people involved in ministry simply share their faith in Jesus? Is that why it is possible to have about 15 people sharing the Good News in our neighborhood? Or to get 30 people on a prayer walk?
A seminary student asked me if there was anything I felt called to that kept failing but I stuck with it anyway? I laughed and said, "Yeah, evangelism!" I have been trying for 6 years to get large groups (i.e., not 2 or 3) to go out into their neighborhoods and form relationships and invite people to church. Why is it happening here and not in other places? Perhaps because of the natural outworking of the Spirit in our lives? We have welcomed all kinds of people-- multi-cultural means more than Hispanic; it encompasses issues not only of race, but also socio-economic, education and other things that separate us.
Most churches are homogenous. That is, they are not only white or black, they are white or black within other parameters. As Norbert said on the prayer walk, it is natural for people to stay with people like them. But when the Holy Spirit comes, all peoples can come together without the hindrances we have thrown up.
So, since we have welcomed all kinds of people (and it is important to note, no one batted an eye when 20 Congolese showed up), maybe it's only natural that we talk about it, invite people. We know the Lord is doing something with us.
p/g
And then, we have scans beginning of next month. There's a lot of anxiety about that-- what will they show? Cancer still gone?
Just before the bone marrow transplant, the cancer had spread to a lot of places. Some you knew only because the scan said so, others because she could feel them. I was too chicken for her to show me.
One of the places was in her back, and it caused almost unbearable pain. Psalm 38, a Psalm of confession, says, "My back is filled with searing pain" (verse 7). Even though the Psalm is about confession, about coming to God when our sin gets the best of us, there is something important about the honesty of the Psalms, how they confront and express EVERYTHING. Nothing is hidden. And so, in God's word we find not simply comfort or help, but also solidarity.
Curtis, Ruben, and I have had some opportunities to talk about what The Rock La Roca is up to-- to pastors in the ordination process and also to a church planting class at Asbury Seminary. I didn't really have much to say about church planting because I am new here. I focused instead on what looks to be something vital for the future of churches in America: ministry in a multi-cultural environment.
But, the thing that interested me most was a comment Ron Crandall, the seminary professor, made after our presentation-- in Acts chapter 6, the early church deals with a multicultural issue: Greek Jews feel their widows are ignored in food distribution, while Hebraic Jews get preferential treatment. I had not looked at it as a cultural issue. I was always intrigued by the outcome: the apostles appoint some fellows (notably Stephen and Philip) to make sure no one is short-changed. the fascinating part to me is that you never see Philip or Stephen handing out bread: they are evangelizing!
So, after Dr. Crandall's comment, I began to wonder: is there a natural outcome in the church when it seriosuly tries to draw different cultures together such that the people involved in ministry simply share their faith in Jesus? Is that why it is possible to have about 15 people sharing the Good News in our neighborhood? Or to get 30 people on a prayer walk?
A seminary student asked me if there was anything I felt called to that kept failing but I stuck with it anyway? I laughed and said, "Yeah, evangelism!" I have been trying for 6 years to get large groups (i.e., not 2 or 3) to go out into their neighborhoods and form relationships and invite people to church. Why is it happening here and not in other places? Perhaps because of the natural outworking of the Spirit in our lives? We have welcomed all kinds of people-- multi-cultural means more than Hispanic; it encompasses issues not only of race, but also socio-economic, education and other things that separate us.
Most churches are homogenous. That is, they are not only white or black, they are white or black within other parameters. As Norbert said on the prayer walk, it is natural for people to stay with people like them. But when the Holy Spirit comes, all peoples can come together without the hindrances we have thrown up.
So, since we have welcomed all kinds of people (and it is important to note, no one batted an eye when 20 Congolese showed up), maybe it's only natural that we talk about it, invite people. We know the Lord is doing something with us.
p/g
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Congo War
Providence: a few months ago, I began calling the church to work more closely with the school so we could break into the community with the Gospel.
I went over to the school to see if my background check went thru, and see where I could start working. Turns out that they have a student at the school who needs some tutoring, someone to help her along. They took me to the room, and it was Rosie! The daughter of Hugues Itoula! She doesn’t know English yet, and she lit up to be able to talk. She was sitting alone, looking kind of lost. How is it that the Lord leads us? Looking to break into the school, working with refugees from Congo, go to the school and be placed with one of the children!
Why are the Congolese refugees here? It has been a real learning process and has revealed a lot ignorance in my education! First, there are three Congos. The big one, the one whose Civil War we hear about most is The Democratic Republic of Congo, formerly Zaire, formerly Belgian Congo, The Republic of Congo, which was French Congo, and a smaller place called Congo Cabinda, which was annexed by Angola. Most of our families are from the former French Congo.
The people in the former French Congo elected their own gov’t in the 90s. The French had pretty much taken the oil from Congo, but the democratic gov’t wanted to be paid fairly for it. The French did not like that idea very much, so they sent some aircraft, soldiers, and brought in mercenaries from Angola and another country (maybe Mauritania? I couldn’t quite get it all from Hugues as he told me this sad story.) So they were bombed by the French Air Force and driven out by the army. Hugues’ father was involved with the democratic gov’t in some capacity, and if he goes back, the French-installed dictator will most likely kill him.
Did the French get a U.N. mandate for this? Maybe we should be more like the Europeans? I mean, they know so much about it.
One of Hugues’s sisters had polio years back. They had to flee on foot some 300 miles—sometimes they carried her, sometimes they pushed her in a wheelbarrow, and hid from the soldiers and airplanes when they came around.
I went over to the school to see if my background check went thru, and see where I could start working. Turns out that they have a student at the school who needs some tutoring, someone to help her along. They took me to the room, and it was Rosie! The daughter of Hugues Itoula! She doesn’t know English yet, and she lit up to be able to talk. She was sitting alone, looking kind of lost. How is it that the Lord leads us? Looking to break into the school, working with refugees from Congo, go to the school and be placed with one of the children!
Why are the Congolese refugees here? It has been a real learning process and has revealed a lot ignorance in my education! First, there are three Congos. The big one, the one whose Civil War we hear about most is The Democratic Republic of Congo, formerly Zaire, formerly Belgian Congo, The Republic of Congo, which was French Congo, and a smaller place called Congo Cabinda, which was annexed by Angola. Most of our families are from the former French Congo.
The people in the former French Congo elected their own gov’t in the 90s. The French had pretty much taken the oil from Congo, but the democratic gov’t wanted to be paid fairly for it. The French did not like that idea very much, so they sent some aircraft, soldiers, and brought in mercenaries from Angola and another country (maybe Mauritania? I couldn’t quite get it all from Hugues as he told me this sad story.) So they were bombed by the French Air Force and driven out by the army. Hugues’ father was involved with the democratic gov’t in some capacity, and if he goes back, the French-installed dictator will most likely kill him.
Did the French get a U.N. mandate for this? Maybe we should be more like the Europeans? I mean, they know so much about it.
One of Hugues’s sisters had polio years back. They had to flee on foot some 300 miles—sometimes they carried her, sometimes they pushed her in a wheelbarrow, and hid from the soldiers and airplanes when they came around.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Daylight Savings Time
Last Sunday, the Congolese families did not know to turn back their clocks. And I did not think to tell them. So, they showed up at the 10 a.m. service.
To get this picture, you have to know this about The Rock La Roca. It is a Restart Church. The old church, Epworth, had fallen on hard times, was probably going to close. It restarted with a lot of help from the Conference. The 10 a.m. service is mostly the folks from Epworth congregation. The service is fairly traditional. The 11:15 service is the contemporary service. I think there is a sort of deference paid to this service as it is the “new” one, and has drawn a lot of new people. But in my rambling thru the community, the people are actually going to respond to the 10 a.m. service. But I digress.
The Congolese families have been coming to 11:15. I wasn’t sure what would happen at the 10 a.m. service. But I looked into the congregation and saw the Congolese singing! Had they learned English? No. Madame Itoula showed me later that night at her home the songbook they used in Congo. It is in the Ki-Kongo language, but the melodies are the ones we know! The missionaries translated the words of our hymns into their language. So they knew the songs!
The early service people just mobbed them with love. And afterwards, two families said whatever it will take for us to get a multi-channel broadcast device, they will pay for it. The goal is to be able to do simultaneous translation in a number of languages, broadcast it to headsets, and many peoples can worship together!
I have this sense that the old Epworth, now The Rock La Roca, a church that sent out more than 50 pastors and missionaries—I have a growing conviction that this church was raised up not for the glory that it had for 50 years, but rather to be here now and in the future. The old Epworth has a heart for mission and evangelism. Those days are not over! If we can get everybody together, to let the early service see the power and passion of the 11:15 service, to see it reaching people who might not otherwise come to church; if the early and 11:15 services could embrace the evening (largely Hispanic) service; and if the “new” services could hear the stories and see the heart of the first service, what a church we would have! What wonderful work the Holy Spirit might do through us!
To get this picture, you have to know this about The Rock La Roca. It is a Restart Church. The old church, Epworth, had fallen on hard times, was probably going to close. It restarted with a lot of help from the Conference. The 10 a.m. service is mostly the folks from Epworth congregation. The service is fairly traditional. The 11:15 service is the contemporary service. I think there is a sort of deference paid to this service as it is the “new” one, and has drawn a lot of new people. But in my rambling thru the community, the people are actually going to respond to the 10 a.m. service. But I digress.
The Congolese families have been coming to 11:15. I wasn’t sure what would happen at the 10 a.m. service. But I looked into the congregation and saw the Congolese singing! Had they learned English? No. Madame Itoula showed me later that night at her home the songbook they used in Congo. It is in the Ki-Kongo language, but the melodies are the ones we know! The missionaries translated the words of our hymns into their language. So they knew the songs!
The early service people just mobbed them with love. And afterwards, two families said whatever it will take for us to get a multi-channel broadcast device, they will pay for it. The goal is to be able to do simultaneous translation in a number of languages, broadcast it to headsets, and many peoples can worship together!
I have this sense that the old Epworth, now The Rock La Roca, a church that sent out more than 50 pastors and missionaries—I have a growing conviction that this church was raised up not for the glory that it had for 50 years, but rather to be here now and in the future. The old Epworth has a heart for mission and evangelism. Those days are not over! If we can get everybody together, to let the early service see the power and passion of the 11:15 service, to see it reaching people who might not otherwise come to church; if the early and 11:15 services could embrace the evening (largely Hispanic) service; and if the “new” services could hear the stories and see the heart of the first service, what a church we would have! What wonderful work the Holy Spirit might do through us!
Prayer Walk
I have been reading in Judges lately. It’s kind of part of my “entering into the history of Israel” to find God’s faithfulness. I was telling Melissa about the long haul, the long faithfulness of God. She mentioned that in her prayer life she keeps hearing God say, “Haven’t I been with you for 35 years? Even when you did not know it? Even when you turned away? Haven’t I answered every prayer?” In my mind, there’s all this doubt, even disappointment. And yet Melissa testifies He answers prayer.
We did something a little out of the ordinary at the Rock/La Roca. We hired a missionary. People have been talking for years about North America being a mission field, the kind of place where if you had told a women’s group or Sunday School class that there were 200 million unchurched people, they would have felt compelled to take up an offering for a missionary. Or maybe a young couple would have felt called to move to the distant land.
The distant land is right outside your doors!
So Curtis Book is on staff with us. He was born to missionary parents in Zimbabwe, and with his wife Les has been involved in missions in New York, London, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Colombia.
Curtis organized a prayer walk in our community. It was awesome. About 30 people gathered in teams of 2 or 3 to go into a prescribed area to pray for the families, and then if we saw someone on the street or a porch, we’d talk to them, take prayer requests. The prayer walk united a lot of important aspects of ministry at the Rock: paying close attention to the neighborhood, praying, inviting. The one goal is to draw people to salvation in Jesus Christ.
Almost 30 people. Awesome. The Little Seminary was in effect. John and Joseph went with me. They got to see the neighborhood and meet a little boy about their age. Of course, they got to playing while we talked to the parents. I think we talked them into a community church.
Norbert Itoula went with me. Norbert is the patriarch of the first Congolese families to come. Wow, did we have a great walk! We were assigned an area just south of our church, a place that the church has not really drawn from, a predominantly African-American area. I mentioned to Norbert the division of the neighborhood. He had an interesting take. He said it was so for God’s glory. It’s human to divide, to stick with people like you. But when the Spirit comes, then the divisions fall. [HAVE I SAID BEFORE THAT THE MOST MULTICULTURAL AND DIVERSE FORCE ON THE PLANET IS ORTHODOX—I.E. NOT AMERICAN MAINLINE—CHRISTIANITY? OH. I DID MENTION IT? SORRY.]
Norbert shared that it is by God’s grace that he is here. 8 years in a refugee camp in Gabon. 4 of his children are not with him here. He is here and he doesn’t think it is an accident. He says that he is here to work for God, to evangelize. “I am saved, and not because I am so good, but because of God’s grace. And others? Without Jesus, they are lost.” I’d challenge every church member to ask if they feel the same way. And if not, what is the Scriptural warrant to lay off evangelism?
We did something a little out of the ordinary at the Rock/La Roca. We hired a missionary. People have been talking for years about North America being a mission field, the kind of place where if you had told a women’s group or Sunday School class that there were 200 million unchurched people, they would have felt compelled to take up an offering for a missionary. Or maybe a young couple would have felt called to move to the distant land.
The distant land is right outside your doors!
So Curtis Book is on staff with us. He was born to missionary parents in Zimbabwe, and with his wife Les has been involved in missions in New York, London, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Colombia.
Curtis organized a prayer walk in our community. It was awesome. About 30 people gathered in teams of 2 or 3 to go into a prescribed area to pray for the families, and then if we saw someone on the street or a porch, we’d talk to them, take prayer requests. The prayer walk united a lot of important aspects of ministry at the Rock: paying close attention to the neighborhood, praying, inviting. The one goal is to draw people to salvation in Jesus Christ.
Almost 30 people. Awesome. The Little Seminary was in effect. John and Joseph went with me. They got to see the neighborhood and meet a little boy about their age. Of course, they got to playing while we talked to the parents. I think we talked them into a community church.
Norbert Itoula went with me. Norbert is the patriarch of the first Congolese families to come. Wow, did we have a great walk! We were assigned an area just south of our church, a place that the church has not really drawn from, a predominantly African-American area. I mentioned to Norbert the division of the neighborhood. He had an interesting take. He said it was so for God’s glory. It’s human to divide, to stick with people like you. But when the Spirit comes, then the divisions fall. [HAVE I SAID BEFORE THAT THE MOST MULTICULTURAL AND DIVERSE FORCE ON THE PLANET IS ORTHODOX—I.E. NOT AMERICAN MAINLINE—CHRISTIANITY? OH. I DID MENTION IT? SORRY.]
Norbert shared that it is by God’s grace that he is here. 8 years in a refugee camp in Gabon. 4 of his children are not with him here. He is here and he doesn’t think it is an accident. He says that he is here to work for God, to evangelize. “I am saved, and not because I am so good, but because of God’s grace. And others? Without Jesus, they are lost.” I’d challenge every church member to ask if they feel the same way. And if not, what is the Scriptural warrant to lay off evangelism?
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