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?
Friday, October 27, 2006
Ode to Foucault
A fellow I worked for in college, Tommy Blanton, asked me, “You’re an English major—what are bibliographies for?” I had been around Tommy long enough to know he had the answer. And anyway, I had not really given it much thought. I suggested they were to document sources and point to areas of further investigation.
“Wrong!” he thundered. “The purpose of a bibliography is to obfuscate reality!”
I knew he wouldn’t let it drop so I kept working. He proceeded to explain that something gets published. Then someone makes reference to the previously published work. It ends up in a bibliography. A third work comes along, adding the second to its bibliography, and now the original source is enshrined in the literature, beyond reproach (this phenomenon is part of what Thomas Kuhn talks about in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions). Aha! A bibliography is developing…
So, imagine my chuckling to myself when I had to do an annotated bibliography to be ordained as a United Methodist Minister. No problem; I had contemplated doing a bibliography as my Master’s Thesis, and had started on it, but changed my topic. It was easy enough for me to do an annotated bibliography. But what good will it do a pastor?
I know the ostensible answer; it shows that you can do research, dig deeper into the Biblical literature. And yet, I knew enough to know that I could cite one set of “Authorities,” someone else could cite another, and there might not be much discussion of the actual value of the bibliography.
There is a practical outcome of the bibliography’s subversive purposes to obfucscate reality: whole movements and “traditions” in the Church have cropped up around issues and ideas that no longer, maybe never did, have a coherent point of contact with Scriptural Christianity.
You always go back to the source. This is why Vincent of Lerins said that when it comes to determining what we ought to believe, we follow what was believed by all, everywhere, from the beginning. Vincent’s great work, The Commonitory, was an attempt to distill the method, the interpretive principles of the four great Ecumenical Councils, the councils that hammered out what it means to believe in Jesus.
In the work of the Councils, we find a remarkable challenge because so many things we prize as modern people will have to go—they simply cannot jibe with following Jesus. They will have to go unless we keep talking them to death and calling it dialogue, write books and articles with opinions, cite them in secondary and tertiary sources, teach them in seminaries… Kuhn’s analysis of “paradigm shift” is apt; if something is accepted long enough, even if it is not accurate, it is hard to dislodge, because the people who need to dislodge it learned it as truth, and all the problems they studied to be so learned were built around the inaccuracy’s being reality. There’s nothing like a bibliography to build community! It defines shared values, passes on knowledge; it is culture in the literal sense.
As Christians, we believe that Jesus is the fullness of the revelation from God. He is the Truth. Remember that it was Pilate who wanted to quibble and prevaricate about that. The discipline required to maintain orthodoxy is immense—our natural inclination is to have something to say, to add to the debate, to see things changed to our models, to get our way. If we follow Vincent’s model, we will have to accede (submit) to a wisdom that is timeless, not subject to the whims of the present. And yet, it was not Vincent’s idea, not his summation of the work of the great ecumenical councils. Rather, it was the Apostle John, the longest-lived of the apostles, who advised: “See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you” (I John 2:24).
What we have heard from the beginning is in conflict with the world and its values. There are plenty who have tried to harmonize the faith with the world, and thus have abandoned the apostolic heritage. And they have many voices, and writers, and teachers, a sound bibliography to back them up. Again, John says, “They went out from us, but they did not belong to us. If they had belonged to us, they would have remained with us” (I John 2:19).
I know, I know, you don’t think it comes down to anything as simple as bibliography. Bibliography is a thumb-nail sketch of the problem. If enough people repeat an idea, it gains force, whether it is true or not. The bibliography is one way, seemingly objective, to perpetuate lies. Talk about something long enough, and before long you’ll start to think that maybe Jesus is not the only way to salvation, that homosexuality is ok, that abortion is ok, that we can let go of straight talk about sin. There are even books written to advance those positions, books with extensive bibliographies!
“Wrong!” he thundered. “The purpose of a bibliography is to obfuscate reality!”
I knew he wouldn’t let it drop so I kept working. He proceeded to explain that something gets published. Then someone makes reference to the previously published work. It ends up in a bibliography. A third work comes along, adding the second to its bibliography, and now the original source is enshrined in the literature, beyond reproach (this phenomenon is part of what Thomas Kuhn talks about in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions). Aha! A bibliography is developing…
So, imagine my chuckling to myself when I had to do an annotated bibliography to be ordained as a United Methodist Minister. No problem; I had contemplated doing a bibliography as my Master’s Thesis, and had started on it, but changed my topic. It was easy enough for me to do an annotated bibliography. But what good will it do a pastor?
I know the ostensible answer; it shows that you can do research, dig deeper into the Biblical literature. And yet, I knew enough to know that I could cite one set of “Authorities,” someone else could cite another, and there might not be much discussion of the actual value of the bibliography.
There is a practical outcome of the bibliography’s subversive purposes to obfucscate reality: whole movements and “traditions” in the Church have cropped up around issues and ideas that no longer, maybe never did, have a coherent point of contact with Scriptural Christianity.
You always go back to the source. This is why Vincent of Lerins said that when it comes to determining what we ought to believe, we follow what was believed by all, everywhere, from the beginning. Vincent’s great work, The Commonitory, was an attempt to distill the method, the interpretive principles of the four great Ecumenical Councils, the councils that hammered out what it means to believe in Jesus.
In the work of the Councils, we find a remarkable challenge because so many things we prize as modern people will have to go—they simply cannot jibe with following Jesus. They will have to go unless we keep talking them to death and calling it dialogue, write books and articles with opinions, cite them in secondary and tertiary sources, teach them in seminaries… Kuhn’s analysis of “paradigm shift” is apt; if something is accepted long enough, even if it is not accurate, it is hard to dislodge, because the people who need to dislodge it learned it as truth, and all the problems they studied to be so learned were built around the inaccuracy’s being reality. There’s nothing like a bibliography to build community! It defines shared values, passes on knowledge; it is culture in the literal sense.
As Christians, we believe that Jesus is the fullness of the revelation from God. He is the Truth. Remember that it was Pilate who wanted to quibble and prevaricate about that. The discipline required to maintain orthodoxy is immense—our natural inclination is to have something to say, to add to the debate, to see things changed to our models, to get our way. If we follow Vincent’s model, we will have to accede (submit) to a wisdom that is timeless, not subject to the whims of the present. And yet, it was not Vincent’s idea, not his summation of the work of the great ecumenical councils. Rather, it was the Apostle John, the longest-lived of the apostles, who advised: “See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you” (I John 2:24).
What we have heard from the beginning is in conflict with the world and its values. There are plenty who have tried to harmonize the faith with the world, and thus have abandoned the apostolic heritage. And they have many voices, and writers, and teachers, a sound bibliography to back them up. Again, John says, “They went out from us, but they did not belong to us. If they had belonged to us, they would have remained with us” (I John 2:19).
I know, I know, you don’t think it comes down to anything as simple as bibliography. Bibliography is a thumb-nail sketch of the problem. If enough people repeat an idea, it gains force, whether it is true or not. The bibliography is one way, seemingly objective, to perpetuate lies. Talk about something long enough, and before long you’ll start to think that maybe Jesus is not the only way to salvation, that homosexuality is ok, that abortion is ok, that we can let go of straight talk about sin. There are even books written to advance those positions, books with extensive bibliographies!
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Rambling
This past Sunday (October 22), we had another wonderful day of worship. About 20 of the Congolese people showed up, 7 different families. In fact, many more wanted to come, but there was not transportation for all of them. I believe there were as many Congolese children as there were kids normally present in the service. And: add another prayer victory: I have been hoping that there would be people available to translate. I speak French well enough, but not, perhaps, as idiomatically as necessary. Also, I don’t know a lot of theological words.
So, when Irma preached at the seminary, I met a student from Benin, another Francophone country in West Africa. I was put in touch with a young man at UK from Cote D’Ivoire. And at the service, two Congoloese men, Cedrick and Safari said they had been translators in Congo.
Since this is my blog, and I can pretty much say what I want and people will still read it: there are too many books, seminars, and gurus running around trying to convince everybody that they know or stumbled onto something spectacular, something that will make your church grow, or otherwise be awesome in the same ways that the guru’s church has grown or is awesome. God save me from the compulsion to be seen with the latest book. I’m only partially kidding when I say I don’t read anything written after the 4th century…
All I can say about what happens at the Rock La Roca is that we have been trying to follow the Holy Spirit. It will look different somewhere else. It will look different at the Rock La Roca next week! Strangely, I see very little difference between what I am up to at The Rock La Roca compared to what I was up to at Dunaway, a small church in the country. Very different ministries, but so much the same because what was important at Dunaway is important at the Rock La Roca: where is God working? That means: “where do we go if we’re following Him?” Follow Him down one path, and He’ll get you ready to go down yet another. And before you know it, you’ll be sold out to His purposes!
So, you can see that I will never make it as a guru. You can’t have a 3-day conference where you say, “Just listen to the Holy Spirit. Any questions?” Or you can’t have a preaching seminar where you’re strategy is: “Pray and plead for anointing from the Holy Spirit. Any questions?” The trap for churches and their ministers is we want a plan. “Five Slump-Busting Principles” that will invigorate not only your church but your love life. I know, I know; at this point, Courtnay is warning me about my “ministry of scorn.”
The point is: what is happening at the Rock La Roca does not need to be unique. I am not going to write a book or have seminars because in the end all we have done is listen to the Holy Spirit. What happens as you follow is a darn good story, and I’ll tell that all day long. But all I can really say is: take a close look at where you are. Meditate on Jesus. See where God is working. Pray for insight. And let the Holy Spirit have His way. Do something like that and you’ll be on your way to being as freaked out as we are.
So, when Irma preached at the seminary, I met a student from Benin, another Francophone country in West Africa. I was put in touch with a young man at UK from Cote D’Ivoire. And at the service, two Congoloese men, Cedrick and Safari said they had been translators in Congo.
Since this is my blog, and I can pretty much say what I want and people will still read it: there are too many books, seminars, and gurus running around trying to convince everybody that they know or stumbled onto something spectacular, something that will make your church grow, or otherwise be awesome in the same ways that the guru’s church has grown or is awesome. God save me from the compulsion to be seen with the latest book. I’m only partially kidding when I say I don’t read anything written after the 4th century…
All I can say about what happens at the Rock La Roca is that we have been trying to follow the Holy Spirit. It will look different somewhere else. It will look different at the Rock La Roca next week! Strangely, I see very little difference between what I am up to at The Rock La Roca compared to what I was up to at Dunaway, a small church in the country. Very different ministries, but so much the same because what was important at Dunaway is important at the Rock La Roca: where is God working? That means: “where do we go if we’re following Him?” Follow Him down one path, and He’ll get you ready to go down yet another. And before you know it, you’ll be sold out to His purposes!
So, you can see that I will never make it as a guru. You can’t have a 3-day conference where you say, “Just listen to the Holy Spirit. Any questions?” Or you can’t have a preaching seminar where you’re strategy is: “Pray and plead for anointing from the Holy Spirit. Any questions?” The trap for churches and their ministers is we want a plan. “Five Slump-Busting Principles” that will invigorate not only your church but your love life. I know, I know; at this point, Courtnay is warning me about my “ministry of scorn.”
The point is: what is happening at the Rock La Roca does not need to be unique. I am not going to write a book or have seminars because in the end all we have done is listen to the Holy Spirit. What happens as you follow is a darn good story, and I’ll tell that all day long. But all I can really say is: take a close look at where you are. Meditate on Jesus. See where God is working. Pray for insight. And let the Holy Spirit have His way. Do something like that and you’ll be on your way to being as freaked out as we are.
What's In A Name
I guess I have an awkward blog address. My favorite band is a Canadian trio, Rush. The first album of theirs that I really liked was entitled Grace Under Pressure. The music was a little strange, and the lyrics told stories. I learned that the title came from Hemingway's definition of courage. The back cover of the album was an egg in a vise, with a sort of mathematical notation, p/g, or "grace under pressure."
Early in the cancer fight, my homeboy sent me and Melissa matching shirts of the Grace Under Pressure album. It's what we've needed, and what Melissa has definitely shown.
p/g
Early in the cancer fight, my homeboy sent me and Melissa matching shirts of the Grace Under Pressure album. It's what we've needed, and what Melissa has definitely shown.
p/g
Platelets
Melissa's platelets are holding on, mid 60s Monday. She gets a lumbar puncture tomorrow, prevention against the cancer returning in the brain/spinal column.
If we dare to dream, we say that she is on the upswing-- the cancer hopefully does not return and she just has to deal with recovering from treatment and transplant, and that takes 6 mos- 1 year. Her intestinal tract has been the source of most pain and slow recovery--first in response to radiation, then, when she developed graft-vs-host disease (which she needs to have- it fights cancer) it attacked her GI tract. Then, she dealt with a long GI infection.
It seems to me that Melissa is finding more in the prophets these days, esp Jeremiah and Ezekiel. If you can enter into the painful story of Israel, you can also enter into the redeeming work of God. He is faithful, and because His story is real (a very raw and human story)you learn to depend on Him even when it seems darkest, because it is the darkest.
p/g
If we dare to dream, we say that she is on the upswing-- the cancer hopefully does not return and she just has to deal with recovering from treatment and transplant, and that takes 6 mos- 1 year. Her intestinal tract has been the source of most pain and slow recovery--first in response to radiation, then, when she developed graft-vs-host disease (which she needs to have- it fights cancer) it attacked her GI tract. Then, she dealt with a long GI infection.
It seems to me that Melissa is finding more in the prophets these days, esp Jeremiah and Ezekiel. If you can enter into the painful story of Israel, you can also enter into the redeeming work of God. He is faithful, and because His story is real (a very raw and human story)you learn to depend on Him even when it seems darkest, because it is the darkest.
p/g
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Missing the Plane to Jerusalem
I have been in prayer and thought over not so much what happened Sunday, but what the Lord still has in store for us.
A core commitment that I have had for years (at least 10 years now) is that the church has to find ways to reach all kinds of people. This is not simply a question of evangelism, of getting out into the neighborhood, attracting new members to the church. Rather, it is a realization of, or a living into, the work the Holy Spirit has for us to do. We have to recognize what the mission field looks like. The days of Church-that-Looks-Like-Us are gone. That idea was never biblical, but social forces were enough to allow it to flourish. Now we’re paying the price for years of comfort and ease: we don’t have the knowledge or the intensity to flow with the Spirit.
Among the many reasons Jesus died when He did is this: Jerusalem was full. Pilgrims had come from all over the world. It was not just Jews. The world in Jesus’ day was spiritually seeking, wondering what to make of the many gods and ways of worshipping. Sounds like today! So all kinds of people came: some faithful Jews, others who were just curious if the festivals of Judaism held the meaning for their lives.
But if you made that long journey, you didn’t stay for a few days. And anyway, Pentecost was not far away. Might as well stay for that. And the masses did, from all over the world, Jerusalem was filled. So when the Holy Spirit came at Pentecost, it was an opportune time, not just a miraculous event. When the Spirit descended on those gathered, tongues of fire came down and as they spoke, all the foreigners heard their own language being spoken.
It was an eminently practical miracle! If you were going to get the Gospel out, you had to speak the language. And there was no time for language classes. The people would leave Jerusalem, telling what they heard—both the language and the message. So the Gospel spread throughout the world.
It is plain as day what the Holy Spirit wants to do—the same work He has been doing; convicting, preparing, equipping the church for the work of preaching the Gospel. There is something going on that we cannot miss. People are coming from around the world to this country. This country is full of churches. There is a great and powerful opportunity to reach all the immigrants coming to the country. Some are already believers; we minister to them, disciple them, strengthen their faith. Others are not believers; we win them to Christ, and then both will, by natural affinity, either return home with the message, or support the work of spreading the Gospel in their home countries. So the very work of Pentecost is happening right here, under our very noses. People are coming to this country, filling it up. If the Church misses the opportunity, we are in deep trouble. Not because of numbers, but because we will miss what the Spirit is calling us to.
Already, the Rock La Roca has planted a church. Denis Diaz, our Hispanic worship leader, is from Honduras. His brother still lives there. Ruben and Irma visited him a while back. He was inspired, and started a church, “The Rock La Roca” in Honduras. This happened totally by accident as far as our plans were concerned. But the Holy Spirit moved, whether we knew it or not!
Now, we want to be open, ready, inviting. It is, as I said, clear what the Spirit does: He enables the Gospel to be preached. I can preach a great sermon, but if I have no anointing from the Holy Spirit, it is just air. And I have to say, the source of a great deal of my frustration these past months was revealed to me Sunday: very few discussions of preaching center on the power of the Holy Spirit. By the end of just about any preaching seminar or class, you’re convinced you have to do research, an outline, and prepare a well-delivered speech. And indeed, some people are very good at delivering precisely those things. But they do not add up to the Gospel. They may repeat and present the content of the Gospel, and yet not equal the convicting power of the Holy Spirit. I spent, and too many have spent, too much time trying to be good preachers rather than praying and pleading to be anointed preachers.
Since it is clear that the Holy Spirit is about the same work He always has been, the Church’s only option is to follow. To receive the gifts and power of the Holy Spirit to be witnesses to the ends of the earth. Unless we recognize that we are in a golden age of immigration, that we are uniquely placed with many churches to send out believing people back to their own people, there is no future for the church. And we have to realize that our Hispanic brothers and sisters are only part of the wave of immigration—that Africans, Asians, and Europeans are coming as well. It is like Jerusalem at Pentecost. Some churches will get this, will understand.
A core commitment that I have had for years (at least 10 years now) is that the church has to find ways to reach all kinds of people. This is not simply a question of evangelism, of getting out into the neighborhood, attracting new members to the church. Rather, it is a realization of, or a living into, the work the Holy Spirit has for us to do. We have to recognize what the mission field looks like. The days of Church-that-Looks-Like-Us are gone. That idea was never biblical, but social forces were enough to allow it to flourish. Now we’re paying the price for years of comfort and ease: we don’t have the knowledge or the intensity to flow with the Spirit.
Among the many reasons Jesus died when He did is this: Jerusalem was full. Pilgrims had come from all over the world. It was not just Jews. The world in Jesus’ day was spiritually seeking, wondering what to make of the many gods and ways of worshipping. Sounds like today! So all kinds of people came: some faithful Jews, others who were just curious if the festivals of Judaism held the meaning for their lives.
But if you made that long journey, you didn’t stay for a few days. And anyway, Pentecost was not far away. Might as well stay for that. And the masses did, from all over the world, Jerusalem was filled. So when the Holy Spirit came at Pentecost, it was an opportune time, not just a miraculous event. When the Spirit descended on those gathered, tongues of fire came down and as they spoke, all the foreigners heard their own language being spoken.
It was an eminently practical miracle! If you were going to get the Gospel out, you had to speak the language. And there was no time for language classes. The people would leave Jerusalem, telling what they heard—both the language and the message. So the Gospel spread throughout the world.
It is plain as day what the Holy Spirit wants to do—the same work He has been doing; convicting, preparing, equipping the church for the work of preaching the Gospel. There is something going on that we cannot miss. People are coming from around the world to this country. This country is full of churches. There is a great and powerful opportunity to reach all the immigrants coming to the country. Some are already believers; we minister to them, disciple them, strengthen their faith. Others are not believers; we win them to Christ, and then both will, by natural affinity, either return home with the message, or support the work of spreading the Gospel in their home countries. So the very work of Pentecost is happening right here, under our very noses. People are coming to this country, filling it up. If the Church misses the opportunity, we are in deep trouble. Not because of numbers, but because we will miss what the Spirit is calling us to.
Already, the Rock La Roca has planted a church. Denis Diaz, our Hispanic worship leader, is from Honduras. His brother still lives there. Ruben and Irma visited him a while back. He was inspired, and started a church, “The Rock La Roca” in Honduras. This happened totally by accident as far as our plans were concerned. But the Holy Spirit moved, whether we knew it or not!
Now, we want to be open, ready, inviting. It is, as I said, clear what the Spirit does: He enables the Gospel to be preached. I can preach a great sermon, but if I have no anointing from the Holy Spirit, it is just air. And I have to say, the source of a great deal of my frustration these past months was revealed to me Sunday: very few discussions of preaching center on the power of the Holy Spirit. By the end of just about any preaching seminar or class, you’re convinced you have to do research, an outline, and prepare a well-delivered speech. And indeed, some people are very good at delivering precisely those things. But they do not add up to the Gospel. They may repeat and present the content of the Gospel, and yet not equal the convicting power of the Holy Spirit. I spent, and too many have spent, too much time trying to be good preachers rather than praying and pleading to be anointed preachers.
Since it is clear that the Holy Spirit is about the same work He always has been, the Church’s only option is to follow. To receive the gifts and power of the Holy Spirit to be witnesses to the ends of the earth. Unless we recognize that we are in a golden age of immigration, that we are uniquely placed with many churches to send out believing people back to their own people, there is no future for the church. And we have to realize that our Hispanic brothers and sisters are only part of the wave of immigration—that Africans, Asians, and Europeans are coming as well. It is like Jerusalem at Pentecost. Some churches will get this, will understand.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Platelets, Revival
Thursday, Melissa's platelets were 70. Just 2 weeks ago they were in the teens and she was getting platelets by transfusion. Something has kicked in, and we hope it continues!
I think Melissa is in a place where endurance and patience are the issues. Facing down the drastic treatment of bone marrow transplant was something that required lots of focus and attention. It was very quantifiable. You had something to say to people when they asked what's up. Now, it's harder to tell. How do you explain that the transplant is the rescue from the treatment, and that all kinds of weird stuff just crops up in its aftermath? It's not definable quickly, so what do you say?
And she just has to gut it out. All along, it is the little things like an infection or insomnia that are the things that bring you down.
The boys and I will be in Texas next week, so I don't know if there will be anything new on the blog. Maybe I'll get to it.
The revival went well. It was good to be back in Winchester. Lots of old friends, made some new ones. I hope people's hearts were opened and seeds were planted. The boys came with me a few nights. John and Joe sang a song with some help. One night, they wrote their names on some name tags and then stuck them to an offering envelope. Inside, they drew a heart and gave it to me after the service. Wow.
Yesterday was the day of seeing people from Louisville-- Barbie Dickens and her three awesome boys. I promise you-- I saw it with my own eyes-- she beat her boys in a game of King of the Hill on a haystack. She had no mercy. You can expect no less from a woman with three boys... And we also saw Carla Evers, without her kids, and I know she needed that break!
I think Melissa is in a place where endurance and patience are the issues. Facing down the drastic treatment of bone marrow transplant was something that required lots of focus and attention. It was very quantifiable. You had something to say to people when they asked what's up. Now, it's harder to tell. How do you explain that the transplant is the rescue from the treatment, and that all kinds of weird stuff just crops up in its aftermath? It's not definable quickly, so what do you say?
And she just has to gut it out. All along, it is the little things like an infection or insomnia that are the things that bring you down.
The boys and I will be in Texas next week, so I don't know if there will be anything new on the blog. Maybe I'll get to it.
The revival went well. It was good to be back in Winchester. Lots of old friends, made some new ones. I hope people's hearts were opened and seeds were planted. The boys came with me a few nights. John and Joe sang a song with some help. One night, they wrote their names on some name tags and then stuck them to an offering envelope. Inside, they drew a heart and gave it to me after the service. Wow.
Yesterday was the day of seeing people from Louisville-- Barbie Dickens and her three awesome boys. I promise you-- I saw it with my own eyes-- she beat her boys in a game of King of the Hill on a haystack. She had no mercy. You can expect no less from a woman with three boys... And we also saw Carla Evers, without her kids, and I know she needed that break!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Outhouse Apples
I don’t know that I will ever meet anyone quite like Dave Moore. He would tell you about what he went thru in Korea, and you’d just cry. And in the same breath he’d have you laughing as hard as you ever did. Well, Dave planted some apple trees years back. I think maybe his brother Gene grafted them. If you asked what kind of apple they were, Dave’d tell you, “Outhouse Apples.” Except he didn’t say “outhouse…”
I met with two of the Congolese families, which given the extended family structure means 11 people. The patriarch, Norbert Itoula, has such grave dignity that you readily accede to his discussions! He taught me some more about the Congo’s difficult history. He kept saying how happy he was to be in America. He heard there were many Christians here, but he says, “maybe there are also many who do not believe in Christ?” He has found himself welcomed, and he is surprised. He spent 8 years in a refugee camp in Gabon, a neighboring country. A refrain of the family is that they are amazed to be in America, to find people helpful, when the neighboring countries in Africa are not very helpful at all. Talking to one of the boys, who grew up in a refugee camp, I mentioned the difficulties of Africa generally. He paused before he said, “Africa is full of hate.”
Norbert went on to say that he finds it tragic but predictable that France (“responsible for so much of our troubles—they were our ‘colonial masters’”) has no resettlement program for the refugees from their former colonies. The refugees rely on the U.S. and Canada.
I wonder what should be the real discussion(s) in our immigration debate in this country? What to do about/for people fleeing for their lives? And then, what of the church? A refugee family here, a refugee family there, makes for a great story and good work, but it is only a drop in the bucket.
Norbert said, “I have a witness. I am here because of Jesus. And I said if I made it to America, I would serve Him however I could.”
Norbert’s sister lives in California. “Where?” I asked. “San something,” he said. I told them we’d need to narrow it down, and we got to San Jose. Maybe there is something there—Joseph, Jesus’ father, the protector of the Holy Family when they were refugees in Egypt, escaping from those who would kill them.
We talked about winter. “Is it true,” Norsi, one of the sons, asked, “that you can wear a jacket and still shiver here?” I felt that way coming here from Mississippi…
I took them to the church to get a few food items until their Food Stamps come in. They took a jar of peanut butter, among other things. And let me tell you, George Washington Carver was my hero when I was a boy, and I can tell you everything about peanut butter! Norsi said proudly, “This is African!” I told them that the soil in Georgia is almost identical to the soil in West Africa, and I paused because it is hard to think about and say, “and the slaves from West Africa brought ngouba with them.” That’s why we call peanuts “goobers.”
As I left, I gave them a bag of Dave’s outhouse apples. I asked them if they ate apples in Congo. Adam’s eyes lit up. “Yes! But we have to import them, and they are expensive. What a treat!”
There was a boy from Fishing Creek, Kentucky who got sent a world away to kill, to see friends killed, to be haunted by unspeakable acts. It makes sense that he would bring so much joy to others, who have come from a world away, escaping unspeakable acts. Dave, you’re gone but not forgotten, and beneath that rough exterior was a heart of gold!
I met with two of the Congolese families, which given the extended family structure means 11 people. The patriarch, Norbert Itoula, has such grave dignity that you readily accede to his discussions! He taught me some more about the Congo’s difficult history. He kept saying how happy he was to be in America. He heard there were many Christians here, but he says, “maybe there are also many who do not believe in Christ?” He has found himself welcomed, and he is surprised. He spent 8 years in a refugee camp in Gabon, a neighboring country. A refrain of the family is that they are amazed to be in America, to find people helpful, when the neighboring countries in Africa are not very helpful at all. Talking to one of the boys, who grew up in a refugee camp, I mentioned the difficulties of Africa generally. He paused before he said, “Africa is full of hate.”
Norbert went on to say that he finds it tragic but predictable that France (“responsible for so much of our troubles—they were our ‘colonial masters’”) has no resettlement program for the refugees from their former colonies. The refugees rely on the U.S. and Canada.
I wonder what should be the real discussion(s) in our immigration debate in this country? What to do about/for people fleeing for their lives? And then, what of the church? A refugee family here, a refugee family there, makes for a great story and good work, but it is only a drop in the bucket.
Norbert said, “I have a witness. I am here because of Jesus. And I said if I made it to America, I would serve Him however I could.”
Norbert’s sister lives in California. “Where?” I asked. “San something,” he said. I told them we’d need to narrow it down, and we got to San Jose. Maybe there is something there—Joseph, Jesus’ father, the protector of the Holy Family when they were refugees in Egypt, escaping from those who would kill them.
We talked about winter. “Is it true,” Norsi, one of the sons, asked, “that you can wear a jacket and still shiver here?” I felt that way coming here from Mississippi…
I took them to the church to get a few food items until their Food Stamps come in. They took a jar of peanut butter, among other things. And let me tell you, George Washington Carver was my hero when I was a boy, and I can tell you everything about peanut butter! Norsi said proudly, “This is African!” I told them that the soil in Georgia is almost identical to the soil in West Africa, and I paused because it is hard to think about and say, “and the slaves from West Africa brought ngouba with them.” That’s why we call peanuts “goobers.”
As I left, I gave them a bag of Dave’s outhouse apples. I asked them if they ate apples in Congo. Adam’s eyes lit up. “Yes! But we have to import them, and they are expensive. What a treat!”
There was a boy from Fishing Creek, Kentucky who got sent a world away to kill, to see friends killed, to be haunted by unspeakable acts. It makes sense that he would bring so much joy to others, who have come from a world away, escaping unspeakable acts. Dave, you’re gone but not forgotten, and beneath that rough exterior was a heart of gold!
Monday, October 16, 2006
Platelets
Melissa's platelets were at 60 today. They were 44 Friday, and she hasn't received any since last Monday. Finally, she is crossing a major hurdle!
As always, we need continued prayer for recovery and that the cancer would be done with. Prayer has been and will continue to be what we need most!
As always, we need continued prayer for recovery and that the cancer would be done with. Prayer has been and will continue to be what we need most!
What Happened Yesterday
We have not had a Sunday yet where someone did not come to the altar. That's not about me, it's about prayer. That can't happen unless people pray. Not just one person or 5, but many. The Holy Spirit doesn't show up where He's not welcomed by open prayer.
About About 7 or 8 of the Cogolese came to worship. Their presence opened us up; I preached in French as well as English, and some things emerged from that that were unexpected. The demands of translating were not so great; infact, I was so blessed to have great freedom in preaching in both langauges. But I felt like both sermons were disjointed. I would preach a bit in English, then in French, back and forth. So I never got into a good "flow." Lesson number one (one that I have providentially been reading about): the artfulness of a sermon, the quality of expression, the grandeur of thought, are meaningless without the power of the Holy Spirit. You can repeat the ideas and content of a Scripture passage, even make a brilliant application, and la-dee-da, who cares? There's lots of places you can hear deep thoughts and smooth words. Only the Spirit brings convicting power. So you can deliver a disjointed sermon, speak a foreign language like a 12-yr. old boy, and with the Spirit's power, hearts are melted.
Lesson number two: Give the spirit room. He has His own agenda! So, for example, I preached on the parable of the great banquet, Luke 14. I was emphasizing our true nature without Christ, with a call to evangelism. But at the altar call, some folks came forward for healing. AMEN!!
The altar call... man, I don't know what to say. Many people came forward. Our worship team was tearing it up with Spirit-filled songs. I would pray with someone and then some part of the congregation would start clapping about something. One man at the altar shared with me something he received from the Spirit before the service-- the substance of my sermon, but preached more poignantly and powerfully to him in his heart before I spoke a word.
When the last person had been prayed up, two young men, Brandon and Andrew asked to pray for me. What power there at the altar, what power of prayer!
I knew we were all blown away by the promise we have from God at the Rock La Roca. we say want to be a church for all nations. It happened. While I was preaching in French, Judy Rodriguez was translating for the Spanish speakers. Ruben's eyes lit up-- he is a technology fiend!-- when he thought how we're going to have to buy some new sound equipment for multilple channels of broadcast. Right now we only have one frequency, and we use it to translate into Spanish (or english). We'll need something for French and who knows what else, because it is coming.
But, there's this: I told the congregation that what happened today was still a sign of weakness. Yes, the Holy Spirit was present. Yes, we were blessed. But when the Holy Spirit came at Pentecost, tongues of fire descended and everyone heard the Gospel in his own language. NO translators!!! I asked them to pray for Pentecost, a real Pentecostal revival of hearts full of love, and power to preach to all nations, tribes, and races. There were some tears then.
More later, because I am still trying to get all this straight.
About About 7 or 8 of the Cogolese came to worship. Their presence opened us up; I preached in French as well as English, and some things emerged from that that were unexpected. The demands of translating were not so great; infact, I was so blessed to have great freedom in preaching in both langauges. But I felt like both sermons were disjointed. I would preach a bit in English, then in French, back and forth. So I never got into a good "flow." Lesson number one (one that I have providentially been reading about): the artfulness of a sermon, the quality of expression, the grandeur of thought, are meaningless without the power of the Holy Spirit. You can repeat the ideas and content of a Scripture passage, even make a brilliant application, and la-dee-da, who cares? There's lots of places you can hear deep thoughts and smooth words. Only the Spirit brings convicting power. So you can deliver a disjointed sermon, speak a foreign language like a 12-yr. old boy, and with the Spirit's power, hearts are melted.
Lesson number two: Give the spirit room. He has His own agenda! So, for example, I preached on the parable of the great banquet, Luke 14. I was emphasizing our true nature without Christ, with a call to evangelism. But at the altar call, some folks came forward for healing. AMEN!!
The altar call... man, I don't know what to say. Many people came forward. Our worship team was tearing it up with Spirit-filled songs. I would pray with someone and then some part of the congregation would start clapping about something. One man at the altar shared with me something he received from the Spirit before the service-- the substance of my sermon, but preached more poignantly and powerfully to him in his heart before I spoke a word.
When the last person had been prayed up, two young men, Brandon and Andrew asked to pray for me. What power there at the altar, what power of prayer!
I knew we were all blown away by the promise we have from God at the Rock La Roca. we say want to be a church for all nations. It happened. While I was preaching in French, Judy Rodriguez was translating for the Spanish speakers. Ruben's eyes lit up-- he is a technology fiend!-- when he thought how we're going to have to buy some new sound equipment for multilple channels of broadcast. Right now we only have one frequency, and we use it to translate into Spanish (or english). We'll need something for French and who knows what else, because it is coming.
But, there's this: I told the congregation that what happened today was still a sign of weakness. Yes, the Holy Spirit was present. Yes, we were blessed. But when the Holy Spirit came at Pentecost, tongues of fire descended and everyone heard the Gospel in his own language. NO translators!!! I asked them to pray for Pentecost, a real Pentecostal revival of hearts full of love, and power to preach to all nations, tribes, and races. There were some tears then.
More later, because I am still trying to get all this straight.
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