Missing from the Table

NOTE: I write this blog post in light of my brother-in-law (Ray) who is serving his third tour of duty in the U.S. military. Ray--we can't wait until you come home in a few weeks.

On my drive from my parents-in-law to my mom and dad's home, I listened to a show on NPR dedicated to the people who were missing from the family table this Thanksgiving weekend.

One caller told about his dad who was killed in Vietnam several decades ago. He was just two. He never knew his dad, yet he desperately wanted him at the table. Another caller wept as she described her son's drug addiction, his status in rehab, and the grim reality that his spot at the family table would remain empty for the foreseeable future.

An Alaskan called in saying this was the first time he would not be in the "lower 48" (a phrase that is now in mainstream culture thanks to Gov. Palin) for the first time ever. He was sending out a word of encouragement and thanksgiving to his family.

A middle-age man called in lamenting his parents unexpected divorce. Now the family was divided into two camps: those spending Turkey Day with mom . . . and those spending the beloved holiday with dad. His call was essentially a lament.

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The Greek word for which we get communion and Lord's Supper is the word "eucharisteo" (often used in English as simply The Eucharist). The word simply means "to give thanks" or "I give thanks."

I've always been convinced that Thanksgiving has the potential for Christians to really be the church. To welcome all sorts of people to the table (family, friends, estranged, broken, forgotten) and the midst of sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, green-beans take the bread and the wine and give thanks for the tables and people in our lives.

And . . . to remember that Jesus himself would remind us that a day is on its way when he will reside at the table and we will no longer have to lament the broken relationships, addictions, divorces, and death in our lives for all things will be made new.

Sex and the Church

If this isn't holistic discipleship . . . I don't know what is. Seriously. I don't think a woman would ever come up with this idea.

GRAPEVINE, Tex. — And on the seventh day, there was no rest for married couples. A week after the Rev. Ed Young challenged husbands and wives among his flock of 20,000 to strengthen their unions through Seven Days of Sex, his advice was — keep it going.

Prep

The week leading up to Thanksgiving and Christmas are the only two weeks I find difficult to prepare to preach/teach. I am anxious to watch movies, get in extra work-outs, watch RC hoop games, spend time with family, etc. This week, we're starting a new series at Rochester Church called Visitation. It's our version of advent.

This week we're exploring God's visitation to Abraham and Moses in the form of conversation and a burning bush.

I love this quote from Elie Wiesel on Moses (The Messengers of God, 182).

It is not surprising that Moses occupies a special place in Jewish tradition. His passion for social justice, his struggle for national liberation, his triumphs and disappointments, his poetic inspiration, his gifts as a strategist and his organizational genius, his complex relationship with God and His people, his requirements and promises, his condemnations and blessings, his bursts of anger, his silences, his efforts to reconcile the law with compassion, authority with integrity—no individual, ever, anywhere accomplished so much for so many people in so many different domains. His influence is boundless, it reverberates beyond time.

Who Ministers to the Minister?

(Most) Ministers are known for their dedication to providing pastoral care, wisdom, hospitality, and counseling. However, we are curiously poor in receiving the care and concern we dole out to so many others. Perhaps it is because so many of us have a messiah complex—we’ve morbidly convinced ourselves that we are the hope for the world; that we have the power to heal the sick, calm the storms, restore sight to the blind as Jesus did.

I am a part of a mentoring group this fall that is ministering to me. Wayne, Curtis, Cody, and Jon (four students at RC) are all younger than me but they have wisdom, questions, and insights beyond their years. This fall, we’ve spent our time doing our genograms (think: life maps, narrative introductions). Yesterday I finished telling them my story.

As I drove home yesterday from our mentoring group time together, I prayed a simple prayer . . . God, thank-you for placing men and women in my life who accept me for who I am; remind me that you could not love me anymore or any less than you do right now; that challenge me to become more in tune with the spirit of Jesus.

The Weekend

This weekend was eventful. I flew to Mission, Texas Friday (just north of the Mexico border) to speak at the North Mission Family/Youth Conference for a group of churches in that area. I only get asked to do one or two youth events a year. I'm fine with that. I really am. I personally think it is the hardest age group for me to connect to. I'm grateful for people like David Fraze, Patrick, et al who can speak powerfully into the lives of our teens. I'm more comfortable with a diverse audience.

I flew Saturday to Dallas to speak at Highland Oaks Church. This might be the most organized church I've ever associated with. Seriously. They got mad skills when it comes to staff, series, direction, and implementation. They are also one of a few in the Churches of Christ doing "multi-site" (one church many locations). The other is Farmers Branch Church with visionary leader, Chris Seidman. Our journey to/in "multi-site" for Rochester Church and Christ Church Macomb has been one of many mistakes, celebrations, victories and defeats. It is good to know we have fellow travelers along the way.

You can click here to listen to my teaching time at Highland Oaks.

Pocket of Sunshine

Kara and I have struggled to know just how to refer to Baby Graves in conversations without sounding harsh and distant (“it” . . . “that”) naïve (“he” . . . “she”) or too generic (“Baby Graves”). Leave it to Kara to come up with a clever description—after all this is the woman whose one-liners are so famous in our house, we regularly spend our evenings laughing so hard at comments Kara made the night before (like the time when she said in response to my lament that I was getting older every time I looked in the mirror . . . “I have the perfect solution. Stop looking in the mirror.” Or the time when I asked her what it would be like if we switched minds and not bodies. She responded like an assassin, “You’d be running this house").

Recently, Kara started referring to our baby as “our little pocket of sunshine.” At first I thought this was cheesy—a bit too dramatic. But the more and more I hear her use this phrase, I like it. In a few weeks, we'll know if the "pocket of sunshine" is of the male or female persuasion. And then we begin the journey/battle/process/negotiation process/bartering/election of selecting a name that will look more respectable on the birth certificate than "little pocket of sunshine."

More Photos from Cass Park

Thanks to Courtney for sharing more of her photos.

Looking for God

An American flag sits atop the Masonic Temple building located in the heart of Cass Corridor. It's ripped down the middle. The shredded cloth flops violently in the winter swirl. From the top of this building one can see the hundreds of homeless and almost-homeless men and women who live in one of the roughest sections of downtown Detroit.

Across the Masonic Temple is Cass Tech High School. My grandfather graduated from Cass Tech. After Korea, he came back to Detroit, got his G.E.D. and went on to live a rather adventurous (in the good and not-so-good sense of the word) life. Cass Tech and the Masonic Temple form a parenthesis around Cass Park. A rather ironic inclusio. On one side, life, music, art, expression, and joy . . . on the other . . . learning, grit, ingenuity, and creativity.

In between, a rather unassuming park. Those who live here call it Crack Park, Jurassic Park, and other unmentionables.

Next to the park is a half-way house, rehab center (known as The Mariners Inn), an empty parking lot where a Salvation Army Shelter used to stand, a shelter for vets of Vietnam, a Salvation Army High-Rise (now empty) which used to be one of the largest homeless shelters in the United States.

In a word . . . this piece of land can be depressing. Yesterday as I walked around Cass Corridor by myself praying for the city, praying for our church leaders, praying for the first-time volunteers . . . I asked myself a question: Why do I keep coming back to this place? Every four months or so I start asking myself this question. The answer varies: because I'm the extension of Jesus in the world, because God requires that I use my blessings to bless others, because it feels good to serve, because . . . Yesterday a new answer emerged.

I keep coming because Cass Park, as paradoxical a place as it is, reminds me of my own spiritual poverty; my own need to experience God in the midst of silence. So, I keep coming because I'm looking for God. I look for him everywhere else (relationship, music, art, film, family, marriage, fatherhood) . . . if I find God here, I know it won't be the God I'm used to preaching and teaching. Re-thinking God used to scare me. Now, it's what sustains my faith.

Cass Park

Unknown woman in Cass Park

Josh and Vivian (we've been friends for four years now)

My friend Courtney Strahan took these photos in Cass Park yesterday. I'll write more about our time there in the coming days.

The Definition of a Saint

This is from Tony Hendra's memoir, Father Joe (4).

"Saint" does not mean merely dedication, or selflessness, or generosity, though it subsumes all those. Nor does it mean the apogee of religious devotion, though it can subsume that too--sometimes. There are many pious people who believe themselves to be saints who are not, and many people who believe themselves to be impious who are.

A saint is a person who practices the keystone human virtue of humility. Humility in the face of wealth and plenty, humility in the face of hatred and violence, humility in the face of strength, humility in the face of your own genius or lack of it, humility in the face of another's humility, humility in the face of love and beauty, humility in the face of pain and death. Saints are driven to humbling themselves before all the splendor and horror of the world because they perceive there to be something divine in it, something pulsing and alive beneath the hard dead surface of material things, something inconceivably greater and purer than they.

Scars and Secrets (Part Three)

Those who believed that Jesus was indeed God's messiah could not help but read Torah differently. They saw Jesus all over creation, in the the story of Abraham and Isaac, appearing in the wrestling match between Jacob and God/angel/man. Just to name a few.

Isaiah 53 also becomes an important text for early Christians. "But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed," (53:5).

The word for bruise is chabbuwrah ( khab·bü·rä' ); it can be translated bruise, stripe, wound, blow. It was, for the earliest Christian theologians . . . the means by which the scars and secrets of life were healed. Because God did not do an end-round around suffering--rather he entered into to our suffering, shame, oppression, manipulation and abuse of which we have perpetrated . . . of which we have been the victims of.

When Jesus appears to all of the male disciples at the end of John's Gospel (the female disciples had stayed with Jesus during his honor of pain and shame . . . a lesson for another day), he has an interesting conversation with Thomas.
²⁰²¹²²
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit."

Healed from the wounds of being marginalized (by Rome and Jews alike), perpetrators of violence, religiosity, competition, indifference, despair, disillusionment and despair . . . the first disciples (both men and women Luke reminds the reader) are sent into the world to do the business of healing the corporate and personal sins of the world because of Jesus' presence among them.

It's the kind of story I have to choose to believe. Every day, before breakfast and before my feet hit the cold bedroom floor I choose to believe because I think it's a story too good to not be true.

Scars and Secrets (Part Two)

"I hear addicts talk about the shakes and panic attacks and the highs and lows of resisting their habit, and to some degree I understand them because I have had habits of my own, but no drug is so powerful as the drug of self. No rut in the mind is so deep as the one that says I am the world, the world belongs to me, all people are characters in my play. There is no addiction so powerful as self-addiction."

---Donald Miller in Blue Like Jazz (pg. 182)

Scars and Secrets (Part One)

I know men are not supposed to dwell too much on their physical appearance, lest they become suspicious to their surrounding friendship network. I need to confess that lately I’ve been thinking about my physical appearance. I’m not talking about my receding hair-line, or my height, or the teeth that bare the reality that I chose not to wear my retainer after the braces came off in middle school.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about a few of the physical scars I carry.

I have two identical scars on my forehead—the result of two completely different events. Some people tell me that if you get close enough, it looks as if I used to have horns growing out of my head. Had I participated in the political drama many Christians fueled, the horns might have come literally true.

One of the scars on my head came from a running accident when I was two. Not being the polished athlete I am today, I ran into the corner of a brick wall.

The other scar is from a time when I was five living in Wichita, Kansas. I was at the mall with my next door neighbor who challenged me to a race. I took off at Michael Phelps type speed, and he decided his best chance to beat me was to trip me from behind. I went falling into a sharp indoor street lamp. The next thing I knew, I was laying in the ER, face-up, staring into a bright light with a doctor holding stitches, analyzing my grill.

I should note that these scars used to be separate. In pictures from adolescence, they are on opposite sides of my forehead. But as I’ve grown older, these two scars have decided they need to be closer. Hence, the horns.

Another scar I am aware of is the one located just beneath my chin. This scar was given to me by one of teammates on my college basketball team. It was innocent enough. We were doing a routine drill when he accidentally elbowed me right beneath the chin. My screen went black. Again, the next thing I knew, Garth Pleasant (the coach) was standing over me as I stared at the ceiling, saying, “Graves, Graves, Graves.” That was the first and last time I’ve ever been knocked out.

I also have a scar on my side that I’ve had since childbirth. You don’t have to be a M.D. to know this is known as a birth-mark. One of the eerie things that happened to me in college was the time I discovered that my roommate and best friend had an identical mark in the exact location. If the Apocalypse was upon us, we surely bore the mark of the beast.

I’m starting to believe that scars are incredibly important in our journey as people of deep spirituality. Not just physical scars we can detect with the eye, but the spiritual scars we carry with us.

For one, scars remind us that we are all fragile people. Even the toughest, macho-men must remember that from dust we came and to dust we shall return. None of us are as invincible as we convince ourselves. We might live a little longer, but the fragility of being human waits each day as we enter into the world.

I will never forget the dramatic reminder of this I received my sophomore year of college. I was in the weight room at Lipscomb University in Nashville. A teammate and I were lifting weights, getting ready for the Big Game the next night. There was only one other person in the weight room—a young athletic girl. We learned later she was a volleyball player. After we left the weight room, she started to feel ill. She went to her dorm room to lie down. During the night she became deathly ill. She died from meningitis. Just like that . . . a young athletic twenty-something dead.

Our scars remind us of our inescapable fragility.

Scars also remind us of a truth that holds the universe together. Some of the events and experiences of our lives are the result of our choices. Yet, some of the events and experiences of our lives are the results of choices other people made. If the statistics are correct, many of the women in our churches have experienced some form of sexual molestation. I realize that’s not taboo to talk about but if we don’t who will?

Scars are also significant, because immediately beneath the scars are the secrets we keep from one another. Underneath the surface, when he dig deeper and become fully transparent: we have to deal with the generational sins that haunt us: alcohol and drug addiction, physical and sexual abuse, pornography, sexual addiction, anorexia and bulimia, lying . . . and the list spreads as far as the veins in the human body (if you doubt . . . check out this site which is closing in on 200 million hits).

I just mentioned personal scars . . . but societal scars can also be detected in all of us: ageism, sexism, racism, classism . . . all of these are part of our experience.

Physical scars . . . spiritual scars . . . going deeper, we’re reminded of the secrets that rage below the surface. These secrets that sit right below the surface of our scars have the potential to destroy us. They are, like skin cancer, absolutely toxic if we do not open ourselves up for treatment.

Holy Brawl!?

When it comes to Jerusalem, you hear a lot about the tension between people of the Jewish and Muslim faiths, but not so much about the Christians, who also consider it a sacred city. A recent scuffle at one of the holiest spots in all of Christendom, however, reminds us that they're a fragmented people as well, with plenty of long-standing beefs among the various sects. The Church of the Holy Sepulcher - a Christian church located within the walled city of Jerusalem on what is believed to be the spot of Christ's crucifixion, burial, and resurrection - was the setting for a violent clash between groups of Armenian and Greek Orthodox monks this morning.

To read the rest of the article, click here.

To watch this Truth-Is-Stranger-Than-Fiction episode, click here.

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And I thought the fights were bad in the churches I've been a part of . . .

Jesus Feast

In the coming months, this blog will be changing names from joshgraves.blogspot.com to Jesus Feast (www.jesusfeast.org). The reason: My first book will be published in 2009 under the previously mentioned name. Stay tuned for more samplings.

Here's a quick overview . . .

According to Christian scholar, Alister McGrath, almost two-thirds of all Christians lived in the West in 1900. And now, only one-third were still recognized as “Western” by 2000. In the last fifty years, Christianity shifted to the far corners of the world: China, South America, and Africa. Scholars now note there are more Anglicans in Africa, for instance, than in all of Great Britain. In fact, it seems there are more Christians living in China and Africa than in the United States—a statistic unimaginable even fifty years ago.

My own religious tribe, Churches of Christ from the American Restoration Movement, has been slowly declining the last three decades in the United States. Besides two major segments of Protestant faith—Pentecostal and Independent/Community—most of Western Christianity is in the midst of a season of stagnation or severe decline.

In virtually every part of America (including the Bible Belt), Christianity is dying a slow death. Out of these ashes exists the opportunity to continue to dream about God’s activity and the potential for the story of Jesus to receive a fresh hearing.

Part autobiography, social justice manifesto, historical reflection, treatise on grace, journal from the urban/suburban world, and narrative reading of Jesus’ life—Jesus Feast is a book seeking to bridge the world of reflection and practice. The chasm of belief and practice (a product of the Enlightenment and its quest for facts and objective truth) is evident even in many of today’s “post” modern writings. Jesus Feast is one attempt to do reflection and practice in a harmonious dance.

A Scholar's Parrot

From C.S. Lewis . . .

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through;
I want God, you, all friends merely to serve my turn.

Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin;
I talk of love--a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--
But , self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

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In times of great debate (family, church, politics, etc.) I'm always drawn back to the heart of The Jesus Story: sin, evil, and corruption do not exist "out there" . . . sin, evil, and corruption run right through the middle of me. I think that's what Lewis's poem is doing.

The Dust is Beginning to Settle

For the last several weeks, I've fasted from commenting about the Presidential race. I am, like so many, glad the race is finally over. I was very disappointed with some of the rhetoric used back and forth from Democrats and Republicans regarding the other candidates. That some Christians joined in the fear-based, truth-skewing, rumor-mill is something I hope to be able to discuss with people one-on-one in the coming months.

I was impressed (thoroughly) with McCain's speech last night. I think he demonstrated class, humility, and character. Kudos to him for taking the high road and making this election about the coming weeks and months ahead and not his own personal interests. I hope Obama will use his wisdom during his tenure in office.

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It is remarkable that, after being one generation removed from a time when African-Americans could not even vote in this country, we now have a Black President. I have already heard some people suggesting that he was elected because he was black . . . that's insane. This election was much bigger than any of that. The proof: Latinos voted for Barack in record numbers. Something else was in the air.


I hope those on the left who want Barack to be a Messiah of sorts will sober up and realize that there's no way one person can accomplish what needs to be accomplished. I hope those on the right (especially those who claim the story of Jesus as their central identity) will pray for the new President (as some forget is required by Paul), play their role in changing the key issues of our day, and get beyond bumper sticker ethics and cookie-cutter slogans to build relationships with people who might not see the world exactly as they see it.

My primary mission in life (as a minister and religion teacher) is to help people's imaginations be resurrected to the power, hope, and possibilities of The Jesus Way. So, I don't wake up this morning putting my trust in what is happening in Washington. I voted. It was fascinating. It will be interesting to see how things unfold.

I hope that Christians who spent hours fretting, and worrying about the outcome of this election will be able to use that raw energy of taking up the local mission of healing, forgiveness, and community--what it means to be the church.

Brueggemann Disciples

This is a picture of me and Dr. Brueggemann after he'd announced that the course he taught at Columbia Seminary would be his last academic teaching experience. None of us in the class had any idea that we would not only be sitting in on a true legend but that this would be his final "game". The final thirty minutes Friday were dedicated to allowing the students to ask whatever question we desired (theology, future of the church, etc.). The one that impacted me the most was his "admission" that he stayed at Columbia Seminary all these years (instead of being at a place like Harvard, Yale, etc.) because he wanted to teach and form students who'd directly become "doctors of the church" (Brueggemann classic).

I don't know if I've ever been around a person who knows Scripture as well as Dr. Brueggemann. The conservative myth that liberal scholars (and he's liberal because of his commitment to taking postmodern culture seriously) don't know the text is just that . . . a myth.

Doctoral students from South Korea, China, U.K, Jamaica, India, Atlanta, Detroit, New Jersey, Alabama, Mississippi (among other places). We had Hispanic, Anglo, black, African, et al brothers and sisters from a mix of different tribes: Methodist, Presbyterian, Church of Christ (me), Baptist, Congregationalist, Pentecostal, Anglican, gathered to study the Torah. And in doing so, we left believing that God might not be done with us. God just might be up to something we don't yet even have the language to express.

Speaking in Tongues: French, Greek, and Hebrew

The first language (other than English) I took the time to learn was French. I wish I could say I did this was for existential reasons (e.g. I wanted to understand the great philosophers of the 1960's who were completely re-thinking "how we know what we know") but that would be a lie.

I took French because I had to. My dad said, "If you are going to go to college, you'd better get used to doing things you don't want to do."

Eventually (by year three) . . . I loved it. I was amazed the first time I read, by myself, The Little Prince. To read it in the original language was incredible because there are words and sentences in French that simple do not translate into English very well (and vice versa).

Then, I took Greek during my undergrad years. I was captain of the basketball team at Rochester College, opinions editor (big surprise) of the school paper, and . . . oh yeah . . . part-time campus minister. Let's just say I was a bit too busy to appreciate the aorist infinitive of agape. Greg Stevenson still likes to remind me of this "baptism" by fire. I remind him that I was a history major and therefore simply taking Greek to expand my horizons . . . see . . . I was learning to play the existential card.

When I went to grad school to study theology, I knew I had to buckle down and become much more disciplined. So, flash-cards became my best friend. Ask Kara, she still has nightmares of my saying, "will you quiz me during the commercial break?" Greek became so much a part of me I had dreams about Greek tests, quizzes, words, and sentences.

Then came Hebrew. If Greek is mathematical, Hebrew is more art. I thought I would do really well in Hebrew since I'm more of a literature/art person. I was wrong. Part of it was due to my situation in life (which is always the case) . . . that is . . . Kara and I were juggling crazy schedules of making the transition to Abilene and then back to Nashville. I did okay in Hebrew. But not nearly as good as I did Greek.

The last two weeks I've been forced (or "welcomed" might be a more pastoral word) to dive back into the world of language: both Hebrew and English translation. I've been reminded how much of translation is interpretation. For instance, sometimes the translators use the word displease when they should use wicked, evil, detestable (see Gen. 38 and Onan).

But there is a great value in paying attention to the differences and possibilities of language. For one, learning a language only happens if you are disciplined to work at it every day. Kind of like learning to follow the teachings of Jesus. We are not instinctively good at following Jesus . . . we must learn to become a disciple (mathetes means student). Every day we wake up and choose to believe that God invaded the world . . . especially on days when our physical surroundings suggest otherwise.

Learning languages is also important because we miss the mystical relationship between words and meaning. To be human is to experience life with God. To experience life with God means we need words to make sense of our experiences. We also don't know what are experiences often mean without assigned words.

For instance, did you know that the same word in Hebrew for womb (as in the piece of the human body that belongs to a female) is the same word for compassion? That takes on special meaning for a husband and wife who are going to have their first child in the coming months.

NBA, Pistons

There are many reasons not to like the NBA (players are pampered, over-paid; the season is long; the game is chaotic; no one tries until the fourth quarter; the games are fixed as Rasheed Wallace would remind us). However, there are some strong reasons to love the NBA (best athletes in the world; the game is an art or dance; at least you know who the enemy is for it is clearly defined by the color of the jersey; you can root for a team throughout your entire lifetime).

I've written of my passion for the Pistons in the past. I'm not convinced the Pistons are any better this year than in years past.

So, on the second day of the NBA season, I'll make some simple picks.

Pistons VS Celtics in the Eastern Conference Finals
Celtics over Pistons in 6

Lakers VS Houston Rockets in Western Conference Finals
Rockets over Lakers in 7

Rockets VS Celtics in NBA Finals (that will remind people of Larry Legend versus the Original Twin Towers of Olajuwon and Sampson)

Celtics repeat as NBA champs (in 6)

Witnesses

"The life for which God has been preparing you for is, by the grace of God, slowly being taken from you." --Walter Brueggemann quoted in Leaving Church by Barbara Brown Taylor

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I love thinking about Sunday Worship as the dress rehearsal for the rest of the week. Sunday morning worship is the time when all of God's actors come together to receive their script for the week. This morning, at Rochester Church, we came together to pray, to listen, to confess, to sing, to worship, to be still, to laugh, to hug, to catch up, to encourage, to remember, to hope, lament, to pause . . . but most of all to hear from the still small voice of God. The real test of today's worship will be the manner in which 900 followers live out their mission Monday morning.

After a long week of reading, writing, studying in my doctoral class at Columbia Seminary I really needed to worship with my local community of faith. I preached in all three today on the meaning of "witness" in Acts 1 and tried to connect that with the film Mr. Holland's Opus. All three services were powerful in their own ways. I was especially touched in Mosaic (our third service) when, as I preached, I looked into the eyes of many of our family members and witnessed a great deal of energy, conviction and hope.

I saw Henry Oyer . . . a Kenyan who one day hopes to return to Nairobi to work with "street kids."

I saw Tom Ngobi, Sara Ageno and Priscilla Batzamuliza . . . three Ugandan students who've blessed my life beyond words.

I saw Lori and L.J. Manry . . . home on furlow from the mission field.

I saw Bert and Ann Bryan . . . two of the best leaders our church has.

I saw John and Sara Barton . . . two of the best partners in ministry anyone could ask for.

I saw Andrew and Eli . . . two young men who've overcome addiction, now claiming God's grace for their life.

I saw Kara . . . my baby-mama (I've been waiting to say that on this blog for a long time) and closest friend on the planet.

I witnessed a room full of people with real doubts, struggles, and concerns coming together to claim the promise that God is with us when we are with each other. Just as he was all over the world today . . . Jesus was among us, inhabiting our words, prayers, speech, and silence. And, sorry Lebron James, we all are witnesses to his justice and mercy.

God is Our Parent

I have some maxims I live by . . . little nuggets of truth that have served me well over the years. I don't talk much about them, but there are always there, in my head, rearing their neon sign when something in my life, or the lives of those around me, goes wrong.

One of those maxims goes like this: If you continue to treat a child as if they are the center of the universe, eventually they begin to believe it.

Today, in my class with Brueggemann he took that maxim from an 80 m.p.h. fastball to a 98 m.p.h (high and tight).

In certain sections of Torah, where God is depicted as a parent, we "Hall-Mark-ize" the stories. The discussion took several interesting turns and then came to a climax when Bruggemann told us about the work of D.W. Winnicott, an English Psychiatrist.

Winnicott's conclusion/contribution could be summarized this way: The health of almost any child is dependent upon a mother (parent) being "good enough"--that is, in the early days of the child, the mother must give herself over completely over to the health of the child. He defines "good enough" as being present, attentive, caring, present, and responsive. If the mother is unfit, psychopathic, negligent, absent, unsympathetic, the child (as an infant) will know within the first two weeks following the birth.

If the mother does not respond to the child's acting out. The child learns to act out, or perform in order that the mother will respond. Within the first month, the baby has developed two "selves" . . . the real self and the artificial self.

At about two years of age, the child must withdraw this constant attention lest the child become a narcissistic child who comes to seminary and can't handle an A-. We see this in some suburban parents who coddle and hover over their children who make them feel (which they believe) they are the center of the universe."

Is Yahweh a "good-enough" mother? This is question running underneath the story of the Old Testament. At times he comes near and pays intense attention to the children. But God also understands that as the child grows, he/she must learn to learn to walk without the constant attention of the parent.

For the contemporary church, many pastors and ministers have to learn how to deal with people who have been abandoned by their mothers and fathers and need "constant parental attention."
Ministers spend an inordinate amount of time trying to feel a need/missing space that they could never possibly fill.

By the way, a "not good enough" mother/father might be a stay-at-home mother/father, a working successful woman/man, a woman/man who lives in both worlds. The point is not to argue about social class warfare that exists in American and British culture . . . but to point out the central element of a parent's relationship to their child and the way in which our cultures are reaping the benefits and tragedies of abandoned children.

One of My Favorite U2 Songs: In a Little While

Love and Power

Do you think this statement is true?

"The person who loves the most has the least power. To gain power in a relationship, you have to withhold love. Whoever loves the least is in control."

I would love to hear your thoughts on this.

Update: By the way, the quote is from the famous American sociologist, Willard Waller who studied marriages during the 1930's. It's called the "principle of least interest" and it was based upon years of studying the marriages that were healthy and marriage of destruction, abuse, friction, etc.

Pharaoh's Nightmare

One of the major goals of the course I'm taking this week is to help minister, teachers, and preachers read the Torah with fresh eyes. Brueggemann (Brew-ga-mawn) said to us yesterday, "To read the Bible well . . . this is ultimately what I have to teach you."

So each day, different people walk the class through Brueggemann's approach to reading the Bible. It's intimidating to employ a method while the inventor (so-to-speak) of the method is in the room. What would it be like to dabble in relativity with Einstein or philosophy with Aristotle? To a lesser degree, that's what it is to do "the method" with Brueggemann in the house while the kids color, trying to stay between the lines.

Today, one group led the class through a section of the Joseph Story in Genesis--one of the more breathtaking and incredible sections of Torah. In fact, Joseph might be the only "truly impeccable character" in Torah.

After haggling through Hebrew, theology, syntax, word meanings, etc. . . . Brueggemann asked the class this question (because the questions we ask are vital): "Why is it that Pharaoh has a nightmare?"

"He's paranoid," someone muttered.
"He's a control freak."
"He does not want to lose his power."

Brueggemann laughed his sincere laugh and rolled his head around twice. "I'll tell you why. Pharaoh had a nightmare because the people who have the most . . . have the most anxiety about NOT having enough. So, be wary of the people who are most anxious in your congregations. They have a lot to lose."

CTS Part Two

I will try and translate what I'm studying this week at CTS. This morning's session was excellent. I wrote so fast I thought my index finger was going to fall off (I like to write as opposed to type when taking notes . . . I type so fast that my brain gets out of sync. However when I write, it slows me down a bit).

Here were some highlights from today's lectures and discussions. I'll save the nerd stuff for other conversations.

"Every family/church has their own genre (story). And when your genre (story) comes colliding with someone else's--be it marriage, church leadership, preaching--you'd better be aware of the stories around you."

"The Bible, just like the humans who wrote them under God's influence, is complex. Therefore, just as we move beyond judging people for their complexity, we must move beyond judging the Bible and move into a living, breathing relationship. We must allow the Bible to critique us. To ask questions we would not dare ask if left to our own devices."

On the Bible: "There are no answers in the back of this book, only long standing schools of interpretation."

"Every spiritualization is rationalization," (regarding the Christianity that allowed Nazi Germany to exterminate Jesus's people, the Jews).

"There is a profound difference between history and memory. Memory is the way in which we remember history. So, in reality, perhaps history and memory aren't all that different."

"When we read the Bible we're always asking ourselves . . . 'What is God saying and doing?'"

"Von Rad (noted OT scholar) was the only professor in the theology department at this university not to join the Nazi Party. Because of that, students refused to take his courses. The Confessing Church (led by Bonhoeffer et al) therefore sent students to take Von Rad's lectures lest the the university terminate Von Rad. So the moral of the story . . . just because you have a small church doesn't mean you are not doing God's work. Don't base everything upon popularity."

"We are all selective fundamentalists. That is, we all choose which parts of the Bible we read and which parts we do not. Therefore, a healthy reader will confess to this problem, help others to see their own participation in selective reading of the Bible and courageously move forward to let all of Scripture serve as our guiding force."

"The texts calls us to more freedom than we are ready to have."

We spent the last hour of class going through Dr. Brueggemann's approach to interpreting the Bible. He's just written a new book about it so it was fascinating to learn up close from one of this generations great thinkers/writers.

Past, Present and Future

During the viewing of the short film I've now mentioned a few times . . . David Fleer suggested to me that a Q and A be added at the end of the film. I'd spent five minutes or so introducing the film discussing the concept Dallas Willard calls "vampire Christianity"--the reduction of the meaning of the life Jesus (which Willard famously writes, "The tendency to only want Jesus for his blood" ignoring the tenor of the life and teachings that got him crucified in the first place).

After the short film--an eighteen minute re-hearing of the King Story in Jim Crow South (think: MLK as America's Moses set to Springsteen) . . . I fielded several questions and comments. Brian McLaren, of all people, told an incredible story about two different generations and their wrestling with the legacy of apartheid in South Africa.

At the very end of the discussion, with a room full of scholars, preachers, theologians (including Brueggemann, McLaren, Cleo LaRue, etc.) . . . one good man stood up and asked a very honest question. "Don't we run the risk of making racism worse when we continue to tell the stories of Jim Crow South and Martin Luther King?"

It was, as I said, a good question.

Immediately my mind went to two places at once. First, I thought of Elie Wiesel, who had just lectured at Rochester College/Church on the power of language for reconciliation (and the role of memory) . . . and I thought the reason Darfur can happen today is because we've forgotten the Holocaust of the twentieth century.

My mind simultaneously went to a different place. I thought of my beloved friend, James ("Doc") Shelton--one of the most respected high school basketball coaches in Nashville. Doc and I became friends when I was a grad student at Lipscomb. He has deep roots with two of my mentors (Rubel Shelly and John York).

So this is the gist of what I said . . . "If Doc Shelton (an African-American leader in Nashville) were to answer your question, he might remind all of us that Christian institutions (such as David Lipscomb) were the last to integrate in major urban areas all over the U.S."

"Moreover, I've yet to meet a minority in this country who wants to completely forget the past. So, and I mean this with all the generosity I can muster . . . we cannot forget. And sometimes our questions betray our own bias, forcing us to ask better questions."

There are many facets to the gospel. Some of those facets include: personal forgiveness, faith, hope, and love. Some also include race, gender, and economics, and spiritual formation.

Different seasons call for different emphases. In all of those . . . be it addiction, divorce, sexual abuse, abandonment, pride . . . the way to the future runs through the past. We must always remember, lest we cease to be human. For it is in remembering that we remain human. Remembering the stories of God preserved through the church (called the Bible). Remembering the grace poured out in our lives.

Film, CTS

The short film I made for the Lipscomb Preaching Conference went well. I will write more about it later. It's incredible what can happen when you mix images, words, music, and powerful rhetoric together. It's like cooking a gourmet meal. Add the right ingredients with a delicate touch and . . . voila!

---

I was able to spend precious time with the York Family today. They have been a blessing, source of wisdom, and spiritual friends since 2002. I count my life richer for having shared so many memories and conversations.

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In the morning, I begin a course with Walter Brueggemann on Pentateuch (think: first five books of the Bible).

Here are the main reasons I wanted to do my doctoral work at Columbia Seminary.

1. Charles Campbell: One of the more influential thinkers in recent times (for his field) . . . he's now at Duke.

2. Barbara Brown Taylor: my favorite writer and preacher on the planet. Period. I'm supposed to take a writing course with her in the summer of 2009

3. Walter Brueggemann (word is this might be his last course): Seriously. The Bill Russell of Old Testament theology.

4. Diversity of students: we will have pastors and ministers from all over the world, from virtually every branch of the Christian faith.

5. Challenge: Besides Princeton (which just did away with their D.Min.) CTS is one of the more integrative programs I'm aware of. They are passionate about practical theology and deep reflection.

The Beauty of Family

Mom: "You know the Bible says, 'Spare the rod and spoil the child.'"

My brother: "I guess that means I'll have to turn the other cheek."

(From Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove)

Baby Graves, Film, Music, Flannery O'Connor

The excitement we've felt from our family and friends has been encouraging. Thanks to everyone who wrote an e-mail, commented on the blog, posted a note to Facebook, left me voice-mail/text. We are truly blessed to have so many people who are sharing life with us.

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Tomorrow, I present a film I've been working on for almost a year at the Lipscomb Preaching Conference. My good friend and tech whiz, Sean Stockman, helped me put this video together. I think it's one of the best projects we've worked on together.

When David Fleer asked me to do this I said "yes" without hesitation. I'm fascinated with the relationship and connection of images, music, and film. I'm convinced that part of the church's future (especially regarding preaching and teaching) is to a) understand the way in which the medium is the message and b) the way in which various mediums can be used to further the cause of deep spirituality, grace, love, hope and justice.

I did some of this at the Nashville ZOE Conference a few weeks back if you are interested. Knight Media Group handles all the CD distribution (615.459.8087).

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The reading I take with me is a sacred selection. I thought about taking this classic. But, after reading a bit, I did not think it would get the job done as I move in and out of Nashville and Atlanta. So, I went with a writer Thomas Merton once referred to as a truly legendary writer "for all time and all generations," (my paraphrase). I'll be taking Flannery O'Connor with me.

We Bring Good News

Kara and I have been on many adventures together over the last several years. We’ve lived in Michigan (twice, once while dating, once while married), Nashville (Seminary and College), and Abilene (ditto).

We’ve traveled to many different places in the United States, usually catching a Major League Baseball game (Wrigley has been, by far, our favorite so far).

We’ve been to Hawaii and hit as many beaches as we could find. We just recently spent time in Paris, London and Uganda asking the question that’s been the theme of my life, “What is God up to anyway?”

We’ve been in the slums of Cass Park, finding ourselves in all kinds of unimaginable conversations and homes. We’ve broken bread with some of our homeless friends who are now, by the grace of God, off the streets. We even buried a few of our friends whose relationships, short-lived as they were, blessed our lives in gospel ways.

We’ve traveled deeper in our friendships with our small group of which we say all the time, “We are learning to do life together.” As a church family, we've traveled the path marked "missional" learning from our mistakes.

But, we are now about to partake of a journey that will, in most ways, be all-together different than the other journeys mentioned.

Baby Graves will, by the goodness of God, join us on May 1st, 2009. Kara is eleven weeks pregnant for those curious . . . though you’d never know because she’s so skinny. If you happen to be at the Rochester Hills Public Library this week and find all the “baby name books” are checked out . . . now you know the whole story.

More (funny) stories to come . . . Is that a basketball in Baby Graves' hand?

Home: Return of the Prodigal Son

Last week, I mentioned the acclaimed novel, Home.

Click here to read an excellent review of what might be one of the better novels of the last decade.

An excerpt:

“Home” is a book full of doubleness and paradox, at once serene and volcanic, ruthless and forgiving. It is an anguished pastoral, a tableau of decency and compassion that is also an angry and devastating indictment of moral cowardice and unrepentant, unacknowledged sin. It would be inaccurate to say that the novel represents yet another breathless exposé of religious hypocrisy, or a further excavation of the dark secrets that supposedly lurk beneath the placid surface of small-town life. When Robinson writes that “complacency was consistent with the customs and manners of Presbyterian Gilead and was therefore assumed to be justified in every case,” she is not scoring an easy, sarcastic point. There is real kindness and generosity in the town, and its theological disposition is accordingly tolerant and charitable.

These ugly facts complicate the beauty of “Home,” but the way Robinson embeds them in the novel is part of what makes it so beautiful. It is a book unsparing in its acknowledgment of sin and unstinting in its belief in the possibility of grace. It is at once hard and forgiving, bitter and joyful, fanatical and serene. It is a wild, eccentric, radical work of literature that grows out of the broadest, most fertile, most familiar native literary tradition. What a strange old book it is.

Voices

One of my students at RC (an excellent thinker and deeply spiritual leader) . . . Shalmar Hylton . . . read this to our class recently. I think it is absolutely brilliant.


"All nature speaks with an articulate voice: everything in it is song, music and sound. All beings whisper, sigh, hum, quaver, chirp, roar, howl, bellow, groan, shriek, weep or murmur. The song of the crickets, the cicadas and the frogs, and the whistling of which the stripped squires greet each other, and all the other voices of the fields are one great prayer. This is the reason for the silence observed by those contemplative monks who have dedicated their voices to the choral chant. They know that every voice is a prayer."

- Ernesto Cardenal in To Live is to Love (page 28)

Scot McKnight

Scot McKnight reflected on his recent time with us at ZOE. He has one of the best blogs I've seen. Check it out.

His lectures were full of theological depth, humor, pastoral sensibility, and missional conviction. He fit well with what ZOE is trying to do among Churches of Christ: bridging the Gospel and Culture in innovative and faithful ways.

The Boss

Bruce Springsteen, arguably one of the most influential musicians/artists of the last twenty-five years, gave a free acoustic concert at Eastern Michigan University yesterday in hopes to register college students for the upcoming election.

It was a remarkable event. We (Kara, Sara and Nate Barton) got 20 feet from the stage. He played for 30-40 minutes. We did not pay one dime.

He dedicated Devil and Dust to the troops still working and serving in the Middle East. That was a "thin space" moment. Especially when he uttered these words: "Now every woman and every man/They wanna take a righteous stand/Find the love that God wills/And the faith that He commands/I've got my finger on the trigger/And tonight faith just ain't enough/When I look inside my heart/There's just devils and dust"

Hall of Fame Coach

Tonight, Rochester College Men's Basketball Coach Garth Pleasant will be inducted into the Michigan Basketball Hall of Fame. Coach is the winningest active coach in Michigan college basketball.

It was such an honor to play for him. I wish I could be there for it. I was there for his 500th win (one of the highlights of my playing days) . . . tonight will be special. 

Right now, I know what he's doing. He's trying to figure out how he can get out of giving an acceptance speech.

Coach: We're proud of you and we love you a great deal.

Home

When it comes to reading, I can be a bit of a snob. By "snob" . . . of course . . . I mean I'm selective. I read what I'm told to read by my teachers. I also have entrusted my reading to a select group of people who bat around .900.

One of my inner-circle reading friends suggested I check out this novel a few years ago. It blew me away . . . I think I read it in two days. Which, for me, is not normal.

Then I found out that the author of this novel was one of Barbara Brown Taylor's favorite writers. BBT is one of the best writers in all of Christianity. Period.

So, another novel by MR just came out. I picked it up on Saturday. It is doing surgery on me. Scot McKnight recently reminded me of one of my favorite sections in the novel.

“There is a saying that to understand is to forgive, but that is an error, so Papa used to say. You must forgive in order to understand. Until you forgive, you defend yourself against the possibility of understanding. Her [Glory’s] father had said this more than once, in sermons, with appropriate texts, but the real text was Jack, and those to whom he spoke were himself and the row of Boughtons in the front pew, which usually did not include Jack, and then, of course, the congregation. If you forgive, he would say, you may indeed still not understand, but you will be ready to understand, and that is the posture of grace.”


The book is called Home. Check it out. You won't regret it.

The Blame Game

We see it all the time.

Ministers blame elders. Elders blame ministers. Both blame church members. Church members blame ministers. Church members blame elders.

Spouses blame each other, sometimes, even the children. In-law's blame the son-in-law. Grandchildren blame the aunt or uncle.

The assembly line blames middle management. Middle management blames the executives. The executives blame the other way.

At university's . . . faculty blame administration. Administration blame staff. Staff blame faculty. Students blame administration. The vicious cycle continues.

Rarely when something goes wrong do various factions of any entity stand up and take responsibility for their own individual contributions to the mess. This has happened in Washington and Wall Street. It happened during Katrina, and the onset of the Gulf War.

Right here in Detroit and Metro Detroit, the demise of the auto industry and scandal surrounding former Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick. Everyone wants to create a scapegoat.

G.K. Chesterton (well-known thinker/writer from the U.K.) famously once wrote in to a London Newspaper regarding the turmoil that consumed Europe in the early stages of the twentieth century.

You want to know what's wrong with the world?

I am.

Sincerely,

G.K. Chesterton

Regarding leadership . . . I'm interested in surrounding myself with people who are willing to a) own up to their own shortcomings and weaknesses b) come together to draw upon the strengths of the group and c) courageously carve a path forward in hope.

The blame game is out-of-control. We are a society of "it's someone else's fault."

And I'm one of the reasons.

ZOE Nashville

There are very few conferences Kara and I get to attend together. Actually, there are very few conferences either of us would necessarily want to be at together. However, this weekend is the exception. One of the highlights of the year, ZOE Nashville is this Thursday through Saturday at Woodmont Hills Church. Thursday and Friday is the leadership conference. Friday and Saturday is the worship conference.

I'm leading sessions"mission in the city" (scripture intersecting the urban context) and "preaching/teaching as public leadership" (with emphasis on media and film). In all, seven sessions.

First on the agenda Thursday morning . . . Kara and I will eat at Pancake Pantry. One friend told me recently, "They have special assessment programs for people with Pancake Pantry fetishes!" If there is a rehab place in America for people addicted to Caribbean pancakes, book me a reservation.

Emerging Artist at Rochester Church

A few years ago, Chris Lindsey and I created EA at Rochester Church. EA (known as Emerging Artist Night) was created to give both Rochester Church artists and artists from our local community a space to demonstrate their talents and gifts inspiring all to see ourselves as artists. Two theological convictions drive this experience. First, God is an artist. This is the first lesson we learn about God in Genesis. Second, God chooses to reveal himself locally. God is not interested in abstract descriptions for he is a God that is about moving into real spaces and neighborhoods. Because our church is primarily committed to being in the Rochester Community--we have to reach and develop artists who help us to understand true beauty, justice, spirituality, and relationships.

Wednesday night was another EA night. It was powerful. From new songs to film, to another great sessions with Peter LeClair and Carmen Paradise (a.k.a. The Marvins)--it was a night to remember. Peter unveiled a new song, Mr. Foolish 2, inspired by my encouragement for them to watch The Notebook (of all movies) during our mentoring sessions prior to their wedding. We also had a special guest--my friend, Paul Blackburn from Gomez Band, showed up to play a little guitar. Kara and I had dinner with Peter, Carmen, Paul, Rachelle (and Rachelle's mom) afterwards and talked about life, love, music, spirituality, marketing in America, life in the U.K, Lars and the Real Girl, and Bono (of course).

Here's a video from Gomez. I love this song.

Senate Prayer

Please join me in prayer . . .

We acknowledge God as Creator and Sustainer of this world.
You have charged us to be good stewards of your creation and your children.
We confess our fragility in this project for we sometimes fall short of this vision.

At times, we vote out of fear.
At times, we don’t tell the truth because the truth won’t get us what we want.
At times, we spin reality, hoping our creative tales will buy us one more day.

Hear our confession today.

Republican, Democrat and Libertarian—we pray to the same God, read from the same holy texts, and attempt to interpret the same constitution. Yet, our understandings of You, our implementation of holy texts and our convictions regarding the constitution are varying, often at odds.

We pray you would comfort those who are broken, distressed, and without hope.

We ask that you give those of us who have been blessed the courage to live our lives as a blessings to everyone around us.

Help us to take our jobs seriously, knowing that work is a gift from You.
Help us not to take ourselves too seriously, lest we think our passions and beliefs are the most important.

As we work today, remind us that “the future belongs to the creatively maladjusted.”
As we work today, remind us that we are all caught up in “an inescapable mutuality.”
As we work today, remind us that there is no greater love than that which compels one human to lay down their life for another.

You created us from dust, and to dust we shall return. That you have breathed life into all of us is something we cannot ever fully comprehend.

This knowledge dares us to live a life worth believing in.

Amen.

Prayer for the Senate

Tomorrow morning, I'm offering the opening prayer for the Michigan State Senate in Lansing. Alan Sanborn, a state senator who is a part of our church family, recently invited me.

In your estimation, the culturally savvy Christian engaged with the world, . . . what would you pray about were you in my shoes?

Tables

Recently I (with the help of generous church supporters) purchased three eight-foot tables. The tables cost $76 a piece. Three tables plus tax . . . $237. The tables aren't much to look at. They are white with gray legs. The tables are plastic. Much lighter than the old wooden tables which still collect cob webs and spilled apple pie in many churches and synagogues all over this country. As we loaded up for Cass Park, I scribbled, in elementary-esque handwriting (due to awkward grooves clearly not designed for writing) Cass Park. 

Today, we put those tables to use in Cass Park. 

On these tables rested chicken, potato salad, cake, snacks, lemonade, water, pop, toothbrushes, deodorant, plates, forks, napkins, spoons and knives. Plastic utensils of course. 

Without these tables, the afternoon is awkward and artificial. Without the food, social power games of old rear their ugly head. 

With the tables (and the excellent food) . . . conversations break out, prayers rise up from the sidewalks, stories are told and re-told (and told again), friendships are renewed. Laughter then replaces a scowl, and despair gives away to hope. The trees are a bit greener. The sun is slightly brighter. The air, a little more pleasant. 

Christianity is a strange religion indeed. Brilliant but strange. 

God takes the ordinary things of life and turns everything upside down. Water. Blood. Food. Wine. Feet. Fishing. Perfume. Bread. And . . . of course tables.  

"Want to change the world?" I can hear Jesus ask his disciples. "Pay attention to your tables."

WE HAVE DONE IT OURSELVES

Lao Tsu once wrote:

Go to the people
Live with them,
Learn from them,
Love them.
Start with what they know,
Build with what they have,
But with the best leaders, when the work is done, the task
Accomplished,
The people will say,
We have done it ourselves

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Last night, during our mid-week service, several of our college students participated in our Can I Get a Witness? series; discussing their six-week immersion into life in Uganda with the Jinja Mission Team. They told stories, read poems, testified to the difficulty of being American in Africa, bore witness to the love and hope springing forth from poverty and H.I.V. . . . I could not be more proud of these emerging leaders and their commitment to live for the sake of others. "Don't ask what the world needs. Instead, ask what makes you come alive . . . because what the world needs is people who've come alive."

Silence and News from U2

Richard Foster recently had this to say when asked "what is the discipline that you think we need to be exploring more at this point?"

Solitude. It is the most foundational of the discipline of abstinence . . . The evangelical passion for engagement with the world is good. But as Thomas a Kempis says, the only person who's safe to travel is the person who's free to stay at home. And Pascal said that we would solve the world's problems if we just learned to sit in our room alone. . . .

And of course, you can't be alone unless you've learned to be with people. Solitude teaches us to live in the presence of God so that we can be with people in a way that helps them and does not manipulate them.

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New Testament scholar and close friend Greg Stevenson recently shared this breaking news on the U2 front regarding their upcoming album (and future in general).

‘This is our chance for us to defy gravity once again, ‘ explains Bono, calling in from a break in recording sessions in the south of France. ‘ We have what it takes, we have the songs, new rhythms and a guitar player who is not ready to re-enter earth's atmosphere until he's taken a slice of the moon!

Believe What is Already True . . .

I've found myself drawn to this quote over and over again this week.

"We don't serve God to gain His acceptance; we are accepted, so we serve God. We don't follow Him to be loved; we are loved, so we follow Him. It is not what we do that determines who we are; it is who we are that determines what we do . . . To live the victorious Christian life you have to believe what is already true about you,” (Neil Anderson in Victory over Darkness).

Teacher Man

Today is Kara's first day of substitute teaching. She started a graduate degree in education recently and decided to get out of the bank world and into the classroom.

As she left this morning, I was reminded of my one-year stint as a substitute school teacher in the Metro Nashville Public School System while I was finishing seminary. Nashville Public Schools is an interesting outfit. The overwhelming majority of students are minorities for, unlike Metro Detroit for instance, most of the white kids in Nashville attend a private school. Anyone who's taught in Nashville will attest to this. It's unusual. While I don't think every child should enroll in public school, I'm also skeptical of the idea of those who believe every child must, in the name of family values, be home-schooled or private-schooled. Every child is different. It's complicated. Jesus seemed awfully interested in being salt, light, cities on hills.

Laotian. Hispanic. Kurdish. Black. These were the four major groups I interacted with the year I taught in Nashville.

These kids are bussed all over the city, to sit in the classrooms which used to be filled with the more affluent white children. When Jim Crow Segregation fell in the South, the complexion of the school system changed. Some say Jim Crow didn't die; Jim Crow just went under-ground.

I will never forget one of my first teaching experiences in MNPS.

I reported to an elementary school on the east side of town in a well known Hispanic- Latino section. I was to teach First Grade.

I reported early (I frequently left our apartment early for fear that the engine in my Dodge would overheat, leaving me stranded and unable to get to the minimal paying job) and began to take attendance. These kids were shy. More so than most six and seven-year-olds.

We stumbled through the beginning, the Pledge, and the morning story-time. Late in the morning, I took the students to music class. One of teachers struck up small talk with me.

"So, how's the morning going so far?"

"Pretty good," I said mustering the most bravado one could hope for in light of the fact that as a substitute, I was a recognized, ordained, labeled Outsider.

"So, do you speak Spanish?"

"Me? No. I ummm . . . I had four years of French. No Spanish though."

"Wow. How are you connecting with the kids? You do know that it's an ESL class?"

In that moment, I ran the call letters E-S-L through my head a dozen times. ESL, ESL, ESL . . . I know that code. It's code for . . . oh my . . . it's code for English as a Second Language. My face must have turned into the same face I make when I drink sour milk.

"Oh, sure. It's a little difficult but were managing," I whispered with a lump in my throat.

Immediately, I turned around, walked back to my classroom. It turned out that I was "teaching" (if you could call it that) a class with students who barely, if at all, spoke English. No wonder I'd received large smiles and blank stares the entire morning.

Oh mon dieu. Que pasa?

He Sent Them to Galilee . . .

“Only novels know of time machines reversing the tides of the centuries. The myth of a return to the golden age is more pagan than Christian. Christ did not leave his disciples with a promise to lead them back to the Garden of Eden. He sent them to Galilee . . . to the world of humble tasks, trials, sickness, sorrows which he had encountered in his ministry, and to the hopes, struggles, and expectations of common folk," Lucien Legrand in The Bible on Culture

COME AS YOU ARE

Christ Church Macomb (our first multi-site effort for the Rochester Church) launched in March of this year. I'll never forget that Sunday for it was a day to remember for many reasons.

I had been planning to spend all week (immediately following the launch day) in Cass Park with several students from Rochester College for an Urban Plunge. This is our annual urban spiritual formation retreat, one of the highlights of the year for me. Because we were coming from Cass Park, where we'd just fed almost 300 people, I decided to invite a few of my homeless friends to the opening worship gathering of Christ Church. I thought they would enjoy it . . . and I thought it would be good for the folks present at the launch.

About halfway through the time of worship, a friend tapped on my shoulder. "They need you in the men's bathroom right away."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"They need you now."

Kara was sitting with me. Sitting next to her was one of our friends from Cass Park, Aleeya. I told both of them, "I'll be right back."

As I approached the bathroom, some of our students explained to me what had happened. One of our friends from Cass Park decided to make the most of the excellent facilities. Frank, an older man with a deep Caribbean accent almost impossible to interpret, was now standing mostly naked (work with me here) in the bathroom, in front of the sink, giving himself a make-shift bath.

Later, Ashley Harrison would report the reaction of the school janitor (CC:M meets in an elementary school) who, many of us have determined, talks exactly like Joe Pesci. "Ashley," in his high pitch tone, ". . . Ashley . . . this can't happen. He's naked."

Ashley handled the situation like a champ.

Eventually we got Frank dressed, disaster averted. The funniest part of this entire story happened a few days later when I e-mailed the leadership team of CC:M with a simple one line response: "Team: CCM's tag-line all year has been 'Come as you are' . . . I suppose Frank really believed this."

Sunday is the re-launch. I don't think Frank will be there. If he shows up, however, we'll make room. There's always room for Frank in this family.

Random

Christ Church Macomb is moving to a new time this Sunday. Join us for a great morning of worship and testimony followed by a block part from noon to three p.m. Worship begins at 10:30 a.m.

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My friend in Nashville, Lee Camp, is continuing his interesting work of bringing together religion, music, art, and literature (among other things). Check this site out.

NOTE: I had the wrong site for the Lee Camp link. I apologize, it's now fixed!

Priceless

Kara is quite the organizer.

Recently, she went through a bunch of drawers, boxes, and files . . . in that process I found a card she'd written to me a few years back. Here's an excerpt:

". . . [T]o try and put into words the experience and feelings of the past two years is impossible. Yes, some days are rough, but if I could only live two years, it would be the last two. You have showed me a new and true part of myself, I have learned to love deeper and live out loud 'louder' since falling in love with you."

I would not trade these moments for anything under the sun.