Homework: Shalom of the City

Take a walk, either around your own home or on the blocks around your church's building.  Where do you see ‘redemptive potential’ for this city?  Where and how do you see evidence of people looking for help or protection?  For justice?  For creativity or leadership?  For spiritual nourishment?  Where do you see people finding these things?

Homework for Gospel in Life

Confession: yes, I am doling out a slew of entries that should have been done a while ago and I wanted to say a few things about these "Homework" posts. 

At First Presbyterian (San Diego), where I've been worshiping this past year, a few of us are team-teaching a class using some Tim Keller materials (he's fantastic; pastor at Redeemer Presbyterian in NYC).  We wanted to be clear that these aren't just nice things to think about-- when the good news intersects our lives, we change.  Our standard practices and procedures change.  Sometimes we need a little help with that shift, and we need it to be concrete. 

With that conviction, I worked through the lessons and themes of Keller's material and came up with homework assignments for each week's class.  I'll dole them out here, for good thinking and prompting of gospel-motivated action in your life, wherever you are.  Please realize that the bent of each assignment is geared to flow out of Bible study, discussion and video clips... but I think they stand on their own as well.  We'll see, right?!  Please offer feedback-- may these challenges be motivation and blessing to live more and more fully in the promises of our Father.

Real Life, This Week for Me!

Every so often, it seems handy to give you a sense of what I do in a week, so here goes!

-Study Acts 5: changing early Christian community, release from prison, angels, teaching the gospel in the temple
   -reflecting: what puts me (us) in prison?  where do I need to heed God's release to go back out and "tell the people the whole message about this life"?

-Email marathon.  Good staff and student developments in the Lima Global Urban Trek.  Networking and keeping up with people around the city, country and globe.

-Prayer meeting to support the work of a local public charter school that seeks to open in Fall 2011. 

- Planning and leading community group at San Diego City College.  Low (late) turnout this week, seeking what students really need to grow as adults and disciples of Jesus.

-Reading and preparation to teach a couple of classes on poverty and the whole gospel.  Here's a link to listen to the initial session-- my turn comes in a few weeks!

-Staff meetings with Geoff and other CRM'ers in San Diego.

-Re-connecting with a friend, discussing financial support.

-Introduced some fellow ministry pals over lunch, then we prayed over the city from the Pt. Loma lighthouse together.

-Coordination to team-teach a class using Tim Keller material on city transformation.


For those who keep me accountable for having fun: I also rode a horse, drove stickshift, explored the natural history museum, had a delicious butternut squash soup dinner with roommates, and saw my spiritual director this week!  GOOD things!

Real Life, Leading to Lent

Taken from The Liturgical Year, by Joan Chittister:  (emphasis added)

"The world around us tells us that life is about money, security, power, and success.  Yet the Gospels tell us that life is about something completely other.  Real life, the Gospels tell us, is about doing the will of God, speaking for the poor, changing the lives of widows and orphans, exalting the status of women, refusing to make war, laying down our lives for the other, the invisible, and the enemy.  It is about taking everyone in instead of leaving anyone out.  When we learn that, after years of being steeped in the lessons of one liturgical year after another, then life changes for everyone.  The fruit of contemplation is oneness with the world."

"Self-indulgence, the preening of the self for the sake of the self, blocks out the cries of the rest of the world, makes us deaf to anything beyond ourselves.  The starving continue to starve while the self-indulgent feast and, full of the good things they have wrested from life, think they have done a good thing...
"Self-centeredness makes us the center of the universe.  The notion that all things were made for our comfort and our control robs those around us of their own gifts.  It absorbs the gifts of others; it smothers them under our own; it blinds us to both their needs and their gifts....
"[In asceticism] We become aware of what is necessary in life, rather than wasting all life's energies on what is at most cosmetic.  We gain the kind of consciousness that is lost in the fog of alcohol or gluttony, agitated by lust, consumed by greed.  We learn the greatest gift of all-- freedom from the demands of the self for the good of the flowering of the spirit.
"It is these things that the great fast, Lent, comes to give us so that, rather than being persuaded and distracted by the things of the world around us, we can learn to keep our inner eye on the world to come.  The asceticism of Lent comes to train us, like spiritual athletes, to keep our eyes, with Jesus, on the road to Jerusalem.  Then, perhaps, we will come, like Jesus, to see the sick and the lame, the outcast and the foreigner in our own world and bend to heal them, stop to listen to them, reach out to raise them from the dead edges of society to new life."

When God Gives a Journey

Looking up at tallllllll trees in Muir Woods.

Most of January, I looked a few weeks out and thought, yeah, I might do an overnight retreat then.  The days would pass, the week would come, and I would find something else that felt more appealing.  This was no big, dramatic plan (or failure to plan); I just knew that I wanted to take some time with the Lord to gain some perspective on the work and life that chugs along these days.  Granted, I did take one day of extended prayer and reading at Prince of Peace monastery, but my soul was still hungry for more.

Even so, I wasn't finding much motivation to go off and be alone-- even as an introvert who likes silence!  Much of my time is spent in intervals of solitude: my own room, my own schedule, my own set of tasks and appointments.  You could say I was kind of holding out on God, as if you say, "YOU make it happen!"

When a friend mentioned she'd be driving up to San Francisco, something in my mind/ heart/ spirit snapped to attention.  "Wait, San Francisco?  Do you need someone to go with you?  When are you going?"

My calendar was open.  I hemmed and hawed.  I contacted one friend in San Fran, and then another.  People were available.  They could give me a place to stay.  My calendar stayed open.  I found a cheap return flight.  More possibilities of connecting with people surfaced, including reuniting with a college friend I hadn't seen in 5 years.  I decided to go for it.

When God gives a journey, he makes it beautiful and bountiful.

We left at 5 am and drove north, just beating LA's rush hour, diving from the Grapevine's serpentine path into the gusty San Joaquin valley.  My friend napped some, and I prayed with a vengeance as gigantic tumbleweeds bounced toward me.  We had wonderful conversation and music, good questions and the kind of deepening companionship that so often comes on the road.

Some of them really were this big.  Yikes!

She found me a BART station in the East Bay area and I started the next leg of my journey: across the bay to San Francisco!  I found my friends' studio apartment in the Mission district, where they hang out with current and former gang members and kids in juvenile hall as part of InnerCHANGE.

We walked around the neighborhood a good bit in my 3 days there, I saw a secret garden and mural alley, ate a slice of Mission Pie (yummm) and an organic ice cream cone.  I spent time with women and infants, and I made crafts and said prayers.  I joined the group studying "The Story of God" and I watched Avatar while gang members snored (loudly).  I went to sleep and I woke up, and God was all over it.  I walked among redwoods (photo up top) and walked through the Tenderloin.  Prayer, laughter, and deep speaking to deep.

While it feels impossible to fully convey the resplendent moments from those days, I savor them with wonder.  I see God's creation and provision of people, community, and love-- all tailored for me!  Whether talking about things holy or profane, the power of connection struck home (perhaps even more accurately, CREATED home) for me last week.  I caught my flight to Los Angeles, and talked a lot about faith, God and Jesus with a man en route.  He was working on making me a vegan, for his part.  I joined more friends for a CCDA event in L.A.  I saw churches sending and mobilizing their people into communities, and I remembered God's work of joining his people together into one.

In coming out of last week, it seems obvious for me to proclaim how good and generous is our God.  Even as I watched the see-sawing headlines about Egypt day after day, even as I held the infant of a "hard-core" gang youth, even as we checked a van for damage and robbery, I was clear on God's presence and God's love.  People did for me what silence could not-- they served as witnesses and signs, as foretastes of the kingdom coming in all its holy messiness, grit, connectedness, affection, humor, and love.  When God gives a journey, take him up on it.

"The View from the Ditch"

Excerpt from a sermon by Richard Lischer, at Duke University, reflecting on Martin Luther King, Jr.'s preaching on the Luke 10 story of the Good Samaritan.  Find the full sermon (transcript or audio) here.

In this telling of the story, the question is not, “Are you willing to stop and help?” but, “Are you ready to be rescued?” When Jesus first told the story, his hearers would have identified not with the helper but with the helpee, the man in the ditch. It’s the ordinary Jewish layperson on an ordinary little trip who winds up in the ditch. Thus Jesus is saying, “It’s somebody like you --why, it is you -- you are the man or the woman in the ditch. You are the church in the ditch, the nation in the ditch.” Are you willing to concede that the example of people unlike you may prove redemptive for you? From whom are you willing to accept help? From whom are you willing to learn?

At this point in our history, you could say we’ve tried a lot of salvations. We’ve tried unbridled expressions of rage, we’ve tried conspiratorial theories, we’ve tried rights without responsibilities, we’ve taken refuge in guns -- and we are not saved.

To whom shall we turn? Are there any other options out there? In his day, King made a controversial proposal. On the basis of Jesus’ life, ministry and death on a cross, he suggested that we try to love one another. It’s hard to imagine how the idea of love could be controversial, especially coming from a preacher. But he made it very controversial, because he took love out from under the canopy of the pulpit, where it’s the safe, expected word, and injected it into the realm of social conflict and public policy. He was forever speaking about love in all the “wrong” places: on highways, in pool halls, city halls, fire-bombed churches, even in Page Auditorium (in a university that for all practical purposes was still segregated). When he might have been talking about revenge or strategy, he spoke of reconciliation.

If you think love is only a smoochy feeling that comes with buttered popcorn, King’s use of the word will set your teeth on edge. If you believe love belongs only in private relationships, like romance or friendship, King’s use of it is unsettling. We’re tempted to say that love has no place in a violent world like ours, forgetting that the love of God in Jesus crashed into the political process and submitted to its rough justice. Jesus got himself crucified in a world like ours.

So if we find ourselves reaching up for a helping hand or a better idea this week, the “Samaritan option” is something to consider.

The story of the Good Samaritan is really two separate stories. Viewed from the road, it’s a story of encouragement to reach out to those who are lost and hurting, the way King did in Memphis, the way Jesus did throughout his ministry, the way we do in our better moments.

But this same story, when viewed from the ditch, where all of us have been at one time or another, takes on a different character. It asks an even more profound question: “Despite your own privileged education, your wealth, or your power -- do you understand how God might be using someone or something you never imagined to teach you and make you new?”

Part of the Problem with Blogging about Life...

is captured well by my friend Jason Evans here.

I too have been spending time at the temporary winter shelter at our church for the past month.  And I haven't written about it, even though there are certainly reasons I should have.  You would love to know that my church here took a risk and plunged into service to "the least of these" brothers and sisters: men and women who've been making a life on the streets.  You would get a kick out of some of our conversations and you would be touched by the stories we share and you would be irritated by people's quirks.  That's all part of the experience, but I feel rather strongly that I don't always have the privilege of putting other people's stories on display.  As Jason writes, "this isn't simply a project; it is the names and faces of those that are our guests"-- and I would add, those that are our friends.

However, I can (and should) tell you the details of the project.  For 6 weeks, First Presbyterian Church of San Diego has provided space and supervision for 8-12 guests to sleep each night.  Individuals who had contact with the church and its other outreach ministries applied and were accepted for the duration of the program, so that it's the same little group that has become a family of sorts, night by night.  Each guest puts up and takes down his or her air mattress bed each night, and volunteers from churches around the city take shifts-- hanging out and sharing food in the evenings, cleaning up and clearing the room in the mornings.  This was prompted by conviction about our responsibility as a downtown faith community, in the face of uncertainty about whether the city would provide space for a larger shelter during the damp winter months.  There was a protracted process that culminated in setting up a large tent for housing-- I hear it's a pretty awful place to stay.  I should add that it wasn't easy for the church to make this decision, either.  It was a risk, and not everyone felt we were up to the task.

The question that may be lingering for you now might be "Well, is it working?"  I don't know.  We've lost a couple of the original guests, which was probably bound to happen.  If they miss two nights, they are no longer eligible for the shelter.  One couple sings in the church choir every Sunday morning.  Each person is really quite endearing, but that doesn't mean there's a clear path to anything remotely close to "fixing" his or her life. People are stubborn and people have problems.  People try hard and people have lots of potential.  All of this is true of you and me, and it's true of the guests at First Pres.  We've got a few more weeks; I'll post some more thoughts along the way.

Now that I've blogged and pondered, I suppose that what I'm trying to say is that I'm navigating what I want to say, what has meaning, and what needs to be shared.  The people person that I am just wants to plunge into the stories.  And never fear, I still believe there are stories to be told!  Sometimes, though, I think I need to take a step back and wait a moment to choose a lens that is honorable and just and true and worthy of praise.  I'm learning as I go.

"Missional Community"

Some clarifying words:
"The church is not sent on a mission by God, rather God is on a mission and the church is called to join him. This is an important distinction, as much of what the church is about is trying to do stuff for God instead of letting Him do stuff through us. The mission is not the church’s—it is the Missio Dei, or “mission of God” that we are called to be part of. From Genesis to Revelation God is seen clearly on a pursuit to redeem humankind from the bondage of sin and death. The pursuit of this mission must take us beyond the walls of our church buildings out into the places where people live and work."
"A missional community is the spiritual family that has the Missio Dei in its DNA."

Read more of Neil Cole's article here.

Bribe, Trade, Opportunity

Last week I squeezed an additional, curious task into my routine of frequent meetings in local coffee shops.  I hung some posters.

Yeah, it's not all that extraordinary.  A nearby San Diego theatre had sent out an email with the tantalizing offer of free tickets to a play if you hung up posters.  Um, sure, I thought!  After all, I go to (or near) lots of prime places every week.  I replied to the marketing rep and got the scoop.  10 posters.  List your locations of choice.  Provide photographic evidence.  Pick your play and performance time.

I did a quick mental calculation, to make sure that the time it took would not exceed the cost of paying cash money for tickets.  I was definitely in the black.  However,  the possibility of side benefits didn't even cross my mind.  You see, as I tromped in and out of coffee shops, ice cream parlors and a token pub, I got to be the instigator of conversation.  "Would you mind if I hang a poster about an upcoming play?"

"What play?" 
"Where?" 
"Are you an actor?" 
"I LOVE theatre, you know!  It's like my life!" 
"They used to offer us free tickets sometimes."
"It's nice to meet you!"
"Let us know about the next one, too, okay?"

When I downloaded the photos from my camera to prove that the mission was accomplished, my chest welled with joy-- not just for being frugal or earning myself a classy evening, but for having encountered new people in the city.  Maybe it's from growing up in a small town, but apparently something in me warms to knowing people (is it in everyone?  I think not, for the millions who at least claim to crave anonymity in places like Manhattan.).  I post about it because I was struck by yet another way of knowing a place.  Not something I ever read about in community development strategies, but an "in" and an excuse for random interaction.  Sure, not everyone was helpful or willing, but most were.  As I tallied up my posted posters, it made a new kind of map-- a map of requests and transactions without money.  A map of learning a place through a completely different lens.

Without a moment's hesitation, I will do this again.  Who would have guessed that I would get to know shops and sidewalks around town in order to see classic theater for FREE?  An all-around win!

Approaching the Night

reposted from Paulo Coelho's blog: http://paulocoelhoblog.com 

San Francisco, United States

I walk through a park with my former American editor, John Loudon, and his wife, Sharon. We can see the city of San Francisco in the distance, illuminated by the setting sun.
Sharon wrote a book about a Benedictine monastery, and tells us that the afternoon prayers, called vespers, are songs of faith in the certainty that the night will pass.

- The vespers indicate the necessity we have to be near others at nightfall – she says. – But our society has forgotten the importance of this nearness, and pretends to greatly prize each person’s ability to deal with his own difficulties. We no longer pray together; we hide our solitude as if we were afraid to admit it exists.

Sharon pauses, before adding:

- I was like that once. Until one day I lost my fear of depending on my neighbor, because I discovered that he too needed me.

Coaching, with Trust

I spent the weekend in a training workshop on coaching as a ministry skill.  With a community of other missionaries here in San Diego, we practiced listening well, developing powerful questions, and helping people discover what they need to do to fully live out God's calling.  It was refreshing because honestly, it feels like many of the things we do in ministry are based on gifts, talents, and hunches we follow.  That makes certain people the "good" ones, the wise ones, the ones who can fix your problem for you.  In contrast, as our roomful of people practiced coaching one another on real-life situations, I never worried that oh, I might get a "dud" coach.  It was pretty straightforward.  The coach followed the rules and asked the suggested types of questions, and the "coachee" almost always uncovered new insights and ways of thinking about things.  It's not that there's a 'magic bullet' skill involved-- rather, there is a dramatic effect when we act as though we truly believe that God wants to speak and reveal himself to his children, and the coach merely facilitates that happening.

Seeing it work for myself was obvious reassurance, but I think I also needed the workshop's reminder about trusting the guidance of the Holy Spirit.  It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking that it's OUR words, wisdom, and brilliant insights that change others' lives.  It's because we told them that they're talented or because we corrected their mistake that they moved forward, right?  It's because we said all the right things at exactly the right time.  Oh but no!  Where's the faith in that?  Where's our humility as servants?  We still guide people compassionately and carefully, but we do not coach as experts and super-stars.  And that is a relief.

"I praise God for what he has promised.  I trust in God, so why should I be afraid?"  (Psalm 56:4)

One Year!

January 4, 2010: moved into a foreclosed house for a month.  Within 2 weeks, found another place to live.  Attended CRM staff training.  Moved into a new house with 3 fascinating roommates.  Started meeting people and attending conferences.  Started praying with people.  Kept walking around the neighborhood.  Learned my way around town.  Saw the desert in bloom.  Wore a couple of bridesmaid dresses.  Travel: Mexico City, Malaysia, Hong Kong, Cambodia, Los Angeles, Chicago, Baltimore/ Philadelphia.  Planes and trains.  Potlucks and meetings.  Walks and talks.  Streets and alleys of friends and strangers.  I was host and guest, learner and teacher, server and recipient.

January 4, 2011: a new year is just beginning!  May this one bring even a few more sights, smells, and little tastes of the Kingdom of God.

Funny Christian Talk

Anonymous quotes, all from yesterday.

"Who is Missy O'Day?"
(Question interjected when I was talking about missio dei, the "mission of God")

"I mean, I had read the Bible before, but it was kind of like Elf [the movie].  I just saw a few scenes at a time."

"You can't just preach the 'Slaughter of the Innocents' your first time at a church.  You are trying to make friends.  Better go with the 'Gifts of the Magi.'"

Politics and Christmas (satire)

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog</a> March to Keep Fear Alive

Advent Reading: Gospel of Luke

Next up, I was excited to read through Luke.  Confession: it took me longer than one week.  BUT there were added layers to reading through this gospel, as I was simultaneously beginning a more in-depth study of Acts with a friend.  As a result, some of the things that stood out to me had parallels in Acts (the second volume that offers follow-up to Luke).

In relation to Acts:
     I was intrigued that casting lots (like throwing dice) comes up 3 times in the two books: 1) Zechariah is in the temple (where the angel appears and tells him he'll have a baby) because priestly duties were assigned by lot.  Jesus' clothing was distributed by lot.  3)  In the book of Acts, the disciples cast lots to replace dead traitor Judas with Matthias.  I like the pattern of holy distribution (determined by none other than God) at key moments-- announcing the birth of John the Baptist, crucifying the Messiah, and anticipating the spread of the gospel through the apostles' witness.
     It also struck me that the description of "awe in the neighborhood" with the prophecy about John in Luke 1:65 foreshadows the "awe" about the community of believers in Acts 2:43.

Amazement at John's calling:
The extent of the prophecy about John is expansive, more than I had remembered:
"He will be a joy and delight to you, and many will rejoice because of his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He is never to take wine or other fermented drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit even before he is born.  He will bring back many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God.  And he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous—to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

New insight into Mary and Elizabeth:
I used to be pretty hard on Mary.  As a snotty adolescent Protestant, I read the Magnificat and thought, "good grief, she thinks she's hot stuff."  Come on, all generations will call you blessed?  Who talks like that???  But God invited me deeper into the interrelated stories of the cousins Elizabeth and Mary.  I had never before grasped  the deep shame that would probably follow Mary for the rest of her life as a result of this "blessing" from God.  I had not seen the layers of mercy that God extends to his servant Mary.  God offers her a companion (and refuge) in visiting Elizabeth, perhaps the one person in the world who would rejoice with Mary.  Mary also gets to share in the joy of Elizabeth, who has long waited for a child.  There is incredible grace woven through this-- that the old woman, righteous and long-suffering, is joined by a young woman confused, unassuming, yet blessed by God's favor.  There is no formula to God's promises-- here they fulfill what had been waited for AND what had hardly been imagined.

I really did read the rest of Luke... but the most applicable parts for the season were definitely these opening chapters dealing with waiting and expectation for the Messiah.

Lord, we read the promises about Jesus and John the Baptist and long for those very things.  We yearn for hearts turned and people prepared, and we wonder why it's not all squared away.  Would you show us your mercy, lift up the humble, and fill the hungry.  Give us mercy for your people and your world and enable us, too, to sing out how our souls magnify the LORD.

Beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Tue 27°F | 16°F Wed 32°F | 29°F Thu 44°F | 29°F Fri 37°F | 20°F             Thanks, Tennessee.  You know how I like it cold!        On my way/ hasta manana!

Advent Reading: Gospel of Mark

For those of you speculating... yes, when I decided to give this read-a-book-of-the-Bible-in-a-week thing a try, I figured that starting with the shortest gospel was the best way to ensure early success.

Three things I noticed while reading straight through Mark:
- In the first three chapters, it seems chock full of Jesus doing stuff on the Sabbath: teaching, healing, casting out demons, eating grain in the fields, etc.  It made me reconsider my own (sort of) strict ideas about Sabbath rest for myself that I've been trying to implement these past 6 months.  I'm not saying it's not important to rest, but I am taking seriously that Jesus' ministry is emphatically inserted into that day as Mark relates the good news.  It reminded me of a quote from a sermon (sorry!  don't know whose...): "Setting people free is precisely what the Sabbath is about."

-Then, it seems the focus shifts to EATING-- food is everywhere!  Sounds like Christmas to me... But seriously, again Mark writes of an involved and tangible Jesus who deals in tangibles, platters and place-settings.

-The healing of the deaf and mute man in chapter 7 stood out to me (v. 31-35).  I wondered why there was particular attention paid to the effort, physicality, and emotion that Jesus put into this healing.  The crowd just asked Jesus to "place his hand on the man."  Yet, Jesus takes the man aside by himself and he does the bizarre healing action of sticking his fingers into the man's ears, spitting, and touching the man's tongue.  Jesus sighs deeply, it says.  All of this immediately after the troublesome account of Jesus' brusque treatment of the Syrophoenician woman with a demon-possessed daughter.

So Jesus, help us to know you as a REAL person.  A person who sets free and eats well, who argues and sighs, who rests and prays and walks many roads.  Help us encounter you as the promised one this Advent.   Help our faith to overcome fear.  Help our unbelief.

Sluggish Start for a Speedy Advent

I used to feel that Advent crept into my life each December.  It seemed like midwinter's darkness would never lift, finals couldn't be over soon enough, and the story of Jesus' birth poked its way into each Sunday one flickering candle at a time.  Now, I can't believe we'll soon be halfway through Advent.

My great ambition starting out this season was to take on a gospel each week-- reading one gospel per week, that is.  Luke, John, Mark, Matthew, and Isaiah to round it out.  I just wanted to read the books straight through, re-immerse myself in the stories of Jesus, notice what stood out, and reflect on a few of those things each week.

So now, I'll try to catch up!  First up: Gospel of Mark!

The Ant and the Worm at City College

I went down to City College today for the weekly prayer meeting with the InterVarsity chapter there.  The semester I've spent getting to know just a tiny bit about 'City' has been full of encounters.  Not long and not necessarily deep, but often these are the kinds of encounters and passers-by that leave a strong impression.  Today was no different.  I spoke briefly with a woman getting people to sign a petition about the San Diego school board.  She did not come across as a particularly strong advocate, chirping softly at those of us who walked by: "Are you a registered San Diego voter?"  Peppered with occasional comments like, "Voting is an American freedom."  One man responded gruffly, "I'm a convict.  Can't vote." 

Later, a student I've interacted with before hopped over a wall and exclaimed, "Habits sure are hard to kick." 
[me]: Um, yeah, they can be.
Student: Chew.
...?...
-I should stop chewing and spitting.
-Oh.  Yeah.  Gross.  (I see the wad in his lower lip now.)  You know how terrible that is, right?
-Yeah, I'm going to stop.  My girlfriend - soon-to-be-girlfriend - is sick right now.
-Sorry to hear that--
-She has a UTI.  So when she's better...
-(In my head: I don't want to know!!!)  Well are your classes going okay?
-Except math, yes. I think I'll stay pre-med, but I'll just have to see if that's how God wants to use me...  Well, I'll see you later!  Hug!  Bye!

There was the usual mix of activity on the quad: Spanish-speaking soccer players, cell phone conversations, shouted interactions from sidewalk to sidewalk, people enjoying the sunshine, students rushing to class.  Surrounded by all this, we laid out our blankets and started prayer time with a little scripture study.  The student leader I've been supporting through the semester led a time of reading and reflecting on the passage where Jesus prays for his disciples, and she reminded the 6 of us gathered about Jesus' prayer that extends to US ("all those who will believe because of [the disciples'] message").  We took time to pray together for friends and classmates, people around us for whom God cares.

While we prayed, I kept my eyes open.  You know, on the lookout for leaping students, errant soccer balls, and latecomers to our open-air prayer meeting.  You just never know.  In addition to all of the above coming our way, what really caught my attention today, though, was a small encounter.  There in the grass by my foot was an ant struggling mightily, flopping back and forth.  I tried not to be too obviously distracted as I leaned in to look more closely.  This ant was trying to PULL a small caterpillar/ grub/ worm-thing-- to drag him somewhere.  What is he, crazy? I thought.  Why, and how, and why not get help?  Lots of other ants scurried around, but none of the others seemed to think that lending 6 legs to the worm-transport effort was a good idea.  In the meantime, I prayed and listened as others prayed.  At one point I looked back to the ant-worm fiasco to find that the ant had left, given up.  Strangely, I felt sad.  After some 15 minutes of tugging and re-positioning, the ant had moved on. 

Wanting to be attentive, but not over-sensitive, I wondered why it was sad for a ridiculously small insect to abandon a gargantuan and questionable task.  I wondered if God was saying anything.  I wondered if I've (metaphorically) been an ant or a worm or a distracted onlooker.  I wondered what gives an ant the imagination to think, sure, I'll give this a try.  And what does the floppy grub-worm think about it all? 

At City College, the encounters are often a little weird.  And ministry can seem a bit improbable.  My prayer, however, is that Jesus and his fumbling fisher-folk disciples would remind and instruct us to give it a try.  Whether we are tugged or tugging, let us take heart at the good news and the Lord's favor.

Generosity Generates

"Generous people generate things. And, consequently, their worlds are more varied, surprising, colorful, fruitful. They're richer. More abounds with them, and yet they have greater thirst and deeper capacity to take it all in. The world delights the generous but seldom overwhelms them." — Mark Buchanan

(borrowed from Jon's post nearby)

The Difference a Table Makes

Common knowledge tells us that food is central to hospitality and community.  What I hadn't given much thought to before now was the importance of how and where we eat together. 

Our house has been without a table for about 4 months.  Even before that, our former table (and its chairs) became uncomfortable after not very long.  (Which is why it was banished, in spite of lacking a replacement.)  Eating largely took place on couches and counters, sitting in chairs and balancing plates on knees.  Taking a meal out to the patio was about the best we could offer our guests.  Hospitality waned.  We didn't invite people as much.  When we did, it felt makeshift and apologetic.

I also have a theory that even individuals eat differently at a table.  There is something reassuring and stable about not having to hold onto your plate of spaghetti or bowl of cereal.  Sure, it's fine for a camping trip or a meal on the go, but every meal, every day?  Not great.

Last weekend, I gave in.  Throwing my reticence about buying and owning stuff that won't fit in a Corolla to the wind, I plopped down $40 for a well-worn table at a junk shop.  Wood, with an insertable, folding leaf. We got it to seat 10, so far. 

As we washed dishes later that night, my roommate and I observed how different that gathering was from any other we'd had.  At one table, we could have one conversation for the entire group.  Discussion could ebb and flow and fracture and come together again.  There was no awkward switch to the living room afterward, so eating was leisurely and long.  It allowed for courses and seconds and a changeover for late-arriving guests as they joined.

It reminded me of Jesus' fondness for banquets and admonition about how to do hospitality in Luke 14.  Now that there's a table, there are lots of people to invite! 
"But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

How to start a morning at a California traffic school: Siempre dando gracias.  (Always giving thanks--- at least that's what the banner says in the front of the room.)  These are the places of incredible short story potential: waiting rooms, doughnut shops, and a room of chairs filled with law-breakers.

It's a Friends Church, - Quakers - "whatever that means," shrugs our instructor.  For us, it means that smokers must cross the street and keep their cigarettes off church property.  And we can't use the nice cushioned chairs in the room.

We're becoming friends, in a way.  By telling the stories of our tickets and bemoaning the state budget crisis, a camaraderie builds.  Certain people become types and characters.  Angry immigrant woman drives something like a van, big, oh what color is it... whatever, it is definitely not able to go that fast at the stop light.  She has tried.  She has children; of course she wouldn't speed past the school.  Young rebel man insists that he can drive while high.  It's never bothered him.  The police just asked him to extinguish the joint.  Military man heading to Singapore ships out Monday, won't be able to go to traffic court.  He drives a fast motorcycle fast.  All around me are college students, teachers, mothers, managers, criminals and head cases.  We gossip about conspiracies (how the state is out to get our money) and corruption, court trials (how to keep our money) and tragedies.

What may be most striking, though, is how docile the room full of us can become.  By some strange agreement, we allow this instructor to rant on her pet issues, separate antsy young-folk from their phones, and make jokes at our expense for 8 long hours.  We pay our $35 and make the most of it.  We don't make much.  The man beside me scored the tests of his 1st grade class.  I finished 2 Ken-Ken puzzles and wrote this reflection.  We were the only ones with pens in hand.

A Good Day

Drizzly early morning.  Delicious green tea. Dry autumn afternoon.  Dear, precious friends. 

Yet, what makes me pronounce the day a 'good one' is balance and scale, a sense of completeness and permission for unanswered questions.  In work and in leisure, this day let me flex and stretch and enjoy.

I woke up early to work on translation of a small portion of a report on violations of indigenous people's rights in Peru.  I don't claim significance or even particular skill in doing it-- just a few pages of English translation to help a friend.

Running late, I hurried across the dripping drying streets of City Heights to join a friend for some Bible study.  We asked questions and enjoyed insights from Acts 1-- final words on Judas, casting lots, and filling the apostolic leader board.  We let God do new things, show us fresh flicks and twirls of the Holy Spirit through the ages, and furrow our brows on things we thought we knew.  We prayed together.

I came back home for a ripe mango with lunch.  I dialed in for an Urban Mosaic conference call.  We updated one another, asked questions, and prayed for work and life.

I dealt with a few dozen emails.  I added things to my to-do list without crossing anything off.  I biked over to some friends' apartment, visited, hurried home before the early dusk.  I made dinner with a former roommate on the phone; I washed the dishes while catching up with a dear former co-worker. 

My day spanned 2 continents.  Touched people in 5 cities.  Bridged macro, micro and meso scales.  It doesn't make me a superstar - it just makes me happy.  It particularly makes me content that this is who I am and what I do.  Today.  (Ha, remind me in a few weeks that I wrote this.  I'll need the refresher.) 

For those of you who believe in me and what God's invited me into, I thought often in the later part of the day that you should know what this is like.  What a privilege and joy, what a beautiful invitation to say, yes, God is doing a new thing.  A new thing in Christ's bride, the Church.  A new thing springing forth from the desert.  A light in the dark.  A brightness for worn city streets.  A day that is varied and smooth and very good.

Marijuana

About two weeks ago, Mexican authorities intercepted a record 134 tons of weed in Tijuana.  They burned it - seen in the photo above.  (You can read more about it here.) 

Tuesday, statewide voting on Proposition 19 in California rejected legalization of marijuana-- but not by a large margin (54% voted against legalizing it).

I have friends who enjoy smoking, who draw inspiration ("thinking outside the box") from smoking, who view marijuana as no more harmful than cigarettes.  It shows up on their camping trips, after parties, in the back yard.

I vividly remember posters on the walls of our elementary school and even a few anti-drug campaign cartoons that offered terrifying depictions of what pot would do to your brain, your life, your relationships, and your perceptions of the world around you.  Horror, dude.  Absolute horror.  In contrast, what I see of marijuana among friends and neighbors isn't so scary.  They smoke, they talk, they have normal-seeming lives.  It is widely claimed that marijuana possession is unevenly prosecuted, with the brunt of arrests falling on young African American men.  (Note: none of my recreational weed-smoking acquaintances who happen to be white have encountered law enforcement around this issue.)  What is truly frightening, however, is the criminal web of money and violence that surround the drug.  No, it's not scary in the way that heroine or cocaine are, but when I think about the industry, about hundreds of lives lost directly or indirectly in its fiery wake... it's sickening.

"Marijuana destroys slowly but thoroughly was the consensus," writes David Foster Wallace from a Narcotics Anonymous group in Infinite Jest. 

I don't tout some kind of naive, drug-free pride (solid D.A.R.E. graduate that I am...), but neither do I want a detached anything goes attitude about something that is, when it comes down to it, destructive.  Aside from medical and legal arguments against marijuana, I've begun to wonder whether people who smoke recreationally have considered the use of marijuana as a justice issue?  It's not so absurd.  People consider purchases based on animal rights (change meat/ dairy/ egg- buying habits) and human rights (watch out for sweatshops and exploited laborers).  The drug trade is killing hundreds and hundreds of people, particularly along the border of the U.S. and Mexico.  Why participate?

These aren't particularly well-formed thoughts here, but I was moved by the drama of that photo and its back story.  I'm filled with sorrow when there's another drug- or gang-related death (and string of deaths) in places like San Diego, Tijuana, Juarez, etc.  I'm tired of it being a low-key, joked-about issue.  As with so many areas relating to Mexico, I'm frustrated by a lack of holistic, critical thinking.  Where are my fellow liberal arts grads with economic and international relations know-how!?  Let's talk about jobs and money and drugs and people and assumptions that cross the border every day, and let's stop pretending we're not all bound up in their causes and effects.

Today's Workload

That's right: the joys of paperwork.  I was trying to get all my lists of people straight and kept uncovering new lists... turns out I have at least 6 (so far!) working spreadsheets.  Oops?

Canoeing Mountains

This was the premise of a training event I just attended here in San Diego.  Solid insights from a pastor and strategic thinker.

Alternative Family

I was reading today: “By relinquishing a most certain way of knowing and loving and creating a family [in marriage], the celibate for the sake of the kingdom proclaims the validity of other ways to knowledge and community.”  I see that so clearly in others’ shock at how shamelessly I’ll draw people together.  I don’t do it out of any profound theological conviction as much as a survival tactic.  I’ll meet and eat and stay with strangers (friends of friends, usually) because that’s what I’ve got as a ‘stranger in a strange land’—whether it’s California or Cambodia.  I believe it’s worth risking and connecting as brethren/ sistren… what other option is there? 

Even though it seems obvious and completely practical, I can also acknowledge that this is not how the world operates.  People live alone and lonely because that's what they're told you do if you're not married.  People stay in hotel rooms, eat by themselves, and watch lots of TV because we do not live as though we have been born into a new and limitless family in the kingdom of God.  Give it a shot.  It's real, true, necessary, and so so good.

Who we are, for now and not yet

I received this in a pastor's weekly devotional email this morning:

"In the course of his remarks, Bishop Walker made the point that we should not “judge people on their right now.”  Rather, we should “judge them on their not yet.” 

       I thought this was extremely well put.  Just as we should take a plastic bottle and not see it littering the ocean but rather envision the shopping bag or park bench it can be so we should not condemn anyone for simply having difficulties just now.  We should not judge the awkward, uncertain college student on their right now.  We should look at them and see the confident, mature individual  they will become.  We should not look at the disheveled and angry addict and condemn them to that state of being for the rest of their lives.  We should look at them and see the sober, productive individual they will be after they change.  When we join in our prayer of confession every week we should not resign ourselves to being the fallen, sinful person we know we are.  We should look ahead and celebrate the free, forgiven person God is going to make us.

       Let us thank God that God does not judge us on our right now.  God knows we are fallen and need saving.  God judges us on what we will be: holy children of God sitting around the banquet table in the eternal kingdom.  And then God treats as if our not yet were already right now.

      Thanks be to God we are not condemned to our right now.  And let us help others reach their not yet."

Even as I appreciated their wisdom, I had some reservations about these words.   I often (though not as often as I should...) pray to see people as Jesus sees them.  Jesus sees who we really are-- who we were created to be.  Yet, Jesus sees who we really are right now, too.  It's true that he does not judge that state we're in, but he does not deny it, either.  The reason for my squirming, I suppose, is that I just don't want us to hop out of the mess too quickly.

  

I don't want us to console ourselves only with airbrushed, sanctified versions of the not-yet.  We don't ever need to judge, but we do need to make decisions.  All our decisions have to wade through both the now and the not-yet-- of other people, of our world, and of ourselves.  And so I do not tell myself, "Okay, I would be able to speak more kindly to this guy if he had the means and motivation to wash his hair" -- but I tell myself that Jesus speaks tenderly to those without homes and hygiene. 

We don't celebrate or worship who we (or those around us) are becoming, but we are filled with awe at the One who can make it so -- who can forgive and transform us into the men and women who will bring God honor and praise.  Thank God our identity is not how we present ourselves, but who You say we are.  How You love us.  How you transform us.  Our identity is being your disciples, your little children, your beloved.

"They Mattered Less Than Love"

I do not say that there were no misunderstandings, discontents and hurts.

I would it had been so.

Strange, how the heart sometimes assents

To angers that the will asserts;

But these we learned to live above.

I do not say there were no hurts—

I say they mattered less than love.

-Jane Merchant

What (Whom) Weddings Bring Together

Enjoying a fine Baltimore dining establishment after Angela's wedding... a long way from Park Street in Williamstown! 

"Talking about people who don't have any power"

Taken from Stephen Colbert's longer testimony on Capitol Hill.

Remembering the Vocation

The excerpt below was written the week after I entered my current position in CRM... I was looking through some old newsletters today and I was struck by the clarity I had before I even got here!  Good to remember: 

Why am I doing this?  And what exactly will I be doing, by the way?  =)  These are common questions I face.  Since I graduated from college, God has been pointing my heart toward ministry, listening to and caring for people, with a particular passion and frustration for the work of the Church.  Though I’ve begun to consider ordination in the PC(USA), I don’t feel ready to say that God has called me to the pulpit—or to parish ministry.  Instead, with Urban Mosaic, I want to walk alongside church leaders and pastors who are figuring out how to be missional, how to lead, how to care for their congregation and their community, how to imagine what “God’s kingdom come” might look like for San Diego.  It’s some of what I do with the Global Urban Trek, when I invite university students to take God’s words about justice seriously and prioritize their lives accordingly.  It’s some of what I did in Miami, when I encouraged a small congregation to pursue its dream of opening an immigration clinic.  It’s some of what I do in my home church when I lead and go to Bible studies, retreats, or prayer services—planting seeds and watering ground for my brothers and sisters to grow in God’s good will.  Who can say for sure what God will have for me in San Diego, or for how long?  (This is a job without distinct service “terms.”)  I do hope it will involve lots of cups of tea, conversations, prayers, hard work and full laughter.  I hope I’ll meet many people and draw them together.  I hope I can show God’s heart for the poor to the isolated sorrow of the rich, and I hope for righted relationships to renovate the Church.  Those are not small hopes, but I don’t think we were called to follow Jesus with a couple of achievable goals on a to-do list.  I won’t get everything done, but I’ll do something, and I want to do it as well as I can, with as much love as I have.

Not Strength but Tenderness

"Spiritual and moral tenderness, an awareness of our own frailty, is what allows us to survive in these ambiguous places."

I idolize strength. I think, "this person or that person is not strong enough to be able to handle these rough environments." It is not our strength that allows us to survive. We will crumble when it is our strength. Knowledge of our own frailty allows us to depend on God. Spiritual and moral tenderness will allow us to live with those who suffer despite not having an answer to give them. Grace, not strength, makes life on the desperate margins possible.

(taken from a distant blog)

These words hit the spot tonight as I returned home from a few hours in a hospital room.  I joined a friend visiting her mom, who is recovering poorly from extensive abdominal surgery.  The mom seems to have some serious cognitive setbacks as well as physical ones, and they're not sure why she rants and yells and calls for faraway people, even now that she's off the hard-core painkillers.  She asked the same questions, she begged to go home, she threatened to smack us, and she writhed in pain.

We did pray for her.  And I continually prayed for my friend in the room.  All the while, I was aware of the rigid strength it must take for my friend not to cry.  I was on the verge of tears as her mother railed against her and clawed at her clothing.  As we got into the car afterward, my friend and I talked about strength.  We talked about depending on Jesus.  But after reading this, I realized that what we offered in that room for a couple of hours wasn't any kind of superhuman or even divine strength.  What we relied upon was tender love.  What kept us upright was tender mercy for a woman in pain and confusion.

Strength can become a burden and obligation-- it means you're the one to do the heavy lifting, right?!  Tenderness, however, is altogether different.  I can't be resentfully or reluctantly tender.  I can only offer simple tasks to the best of my ability.  It was mercy, not muscle, that laid damp cloths on a writhing woman's slack skin.  Strength makes good superheroes, but tenderness is the stuff of shepherds and servants.

"Fund-raising is a very rich and beautiful activity. It
is a confident, joyful, and hope-filled expression of
ministry. In ministering to each other, each from the
riches that he or she possesses, we work together for
the full coming of God’s Kingdom."   -Henri Nouwen

Two days of CRM support-raising workshop start tomorrow!  Getting excited.  =)

What I learned at CCDA

A little over a week ago, I went to the Christian Community Development Association's (www.ccda.org) annual conference in Chicago with 3,000 other wonderful people.  I attended a handful of workshops.  I faithfully made it to most plenary sessions and all of the Bible studies.  There were PowerPoint presentations and handouts, books and pamphlets galore.  All of that was secondary, though.

What struck me as most significant, from the first night onward, was the common theme of friendship.  When John Perkins (CCDA's wonderful, wise, endearing founder) spoke about the significance of this association, he talked about his friends.  He spoke of the people who had come together to share their joys and burdens.  They formed CCDA, apparently, because they needed one another.

That purpose continues to drive the ethos of the organization.  A number of speakers and panelists strongly asserted that the greatest outcomes from such conferences were relationships-- not just your standard business networks, but finding friends who know what your life is like.  It's true: there's something unique about being at a gathering where you can figure a lot of other people might shake hands with people who live and beg on the streets everyday (for example).  Or, they might know how to put up a fight on any number of neighborhood issues, from speed bumps to crime.  And, they've probably got some ideas about intersecting theology with lifestyle choices, hospitality, real estate, buying habits, and any number of other things.  So no, it's not your standard conference crowd.

Having said all that, though, I'm still not a mass-market befriend-er.  I didn't even come home from CCDA with a new business card collection.  I might have added one or two facebook friends.  However, the preaching of friendship and the evidence of its impact in these leaders' lives did provoke fresh gratitude in me.  I remembered when I was in college, just entering conversations about racial reconciliation, social justice and community development (largely introduced by reading John Perkins' Justice for All, appropriately enough), and I remember older mentor-folk asking repeatedly, Where are your 'safe' places?  Who are your friends?  (Meaning: make sure you have them!)  Remembering that, I started to see afresh the depth of friendships carrying and sustaining me.  I felt an overwhelming gratitude for who [you] my friends are-- this miracle and gift God has given me. 

Even if I didn't need CCDA to be my friend-factory, I needed it to highlight this beautiful thing God's been doing in my life.  I learned to see with renewed thankfulness.  I also picked up a couple of spiffy brochures.

Word Power

This is a bit of a throwback/ nod/ reflection on my time in Asia this summer.  Some of you will remember my excitement about being in a place where I had zero fluency in their primary language. Until this trip, all my travels outside the U.S. had been to places that either spoke English or Spanish-- both languages in which I have functional ability.  As I looked forward to the time in Malaysia, Cambodia and Hong Kong, I told a number of people that I wanted to see what it was like to be language-less.

Several friends did look at me a little funny.  Some of them tilted their head and nodded or shrugged.  Sure, it's an adventure to go somewhere new, try different things, break away from the standard codes of life that surround us.  But yes, being mute is an unusual goal.

I’m not sure this makes the objective less weird, but I think the prospect of escaping English for me was less about getting away from familiar (as with WalMart or Starbucks) and more about testing my sources of satisfaction and control.  Part of what gives me such joy in Latin America is the forced dependence on God that comes when I don’t know what else to do but pray and let others help me.  Another thing that makes me really happy is speaking Spanish.  So as a horribly under-controlled experiment—would the thrill of helplessness (go ahead, laugh away...) be amplified without language skills?  Granted, it’s a drastically different setting to spend a week as a tourist, versus a month as a helper/ worker/ visitor/ friend in a slum.  But I think I really just love people, wherever they are, whatever language they speak.  I get pumped about the conversations that come with actual fluency, but even without that, I can taste (yum!) and see and smell life with folks.

 As it turned out, lots of people spoke English in the regions we visited.  It was never a problem.  Actually, it was more of an adventure to get a dress hemmed by a Vietnamese seamstress here in City Heights this week than it was to hire a taxi to cross Phnom Penh.  Ah, the impact of colonialism and the tourist dollar.  I suppose the quest for the brink of linguistic desperation hasn't taken hold of tourist market share.  Surely we're missing out!

Back from Big City

It's a courtesy post, to say that I'm back, to say that my trip in Chicago (and a little bit of Indianapolis) was great, and to say that I'll say more soon.  =)

Early sunlight as I walked along the Chicago River.

Want to go to Paris?

One of my remarkable roommates could offer the chance you've been waiting for!

Visit www.cargoofdreams.org to get a ticket!  It's a $10 donation, designated "First Class to Paris"  Buy for yourself, for friends, for family, and tell anyone else who might be interested!

Here's some of [my roommate] Gabrielle's story:

"I am excited to say I am working with an amazing organization called Cargo of Dreams. The faith-based non-profit uses peoples talents and passions here in the US to convert shipping containers into clinics, schools, community centers, and so on, for impoverished communities worldwide. It is an incredible network of people helping people and I feel blessed to be apart of it.

In addition to taking on the role of Director of the Department of Architecture, Cargo of Dreams will be a platform to do a pilot project of the construction system that I believe God laid on my heart during my thesis year. This is an amazing opportunity to see the potential of the system as it is implemented in areas of great need, but further, a way to show God’s love in a very tangible way. The construction system is quite simple, self-interlocking metal baskets [steel cage units] that can be filled with materials from in and around the project site.

The next few months are going to be quite exciting and I want you all to be apart of it too! We are raffling off 2 first-class, round trip tickets from NYC to Paris valued at $10,000. The funds raised will go directly toward designing, testing and implementing the hybrid construction system of shipping containers and steel cage units and will further continue the work of creating better conditions for those in developing countries."

Having seen Gabrielle hard at work in the throes of her thesis, and even having scavenged for materials for the prototype of these units myself, I am SO thrilled for this opportunity she has to put her design into the hands of folks who can run with it.  This raffle makes that work possible-- AND it gives you the opportunity to win 2 first-class tickets to Paris.  Your chance to win is 1 in 1,000.  The winner will be announced December 5th. 

Who wants to be my potential travel buddy?

Consuming Catastrophe -- & Amazement at Children

“Consuming Catastrophe: The Comedy of The Heart; A Play in Ate Parts”.

Kids wrote that.  For real.  Little kids.  Titling their art show at a local (Nashville) church.  Based on the parable of the mustard seed and the kingdom of heaven.

If you're in Nashville, you should go and tell me how it is!!!  Art Crawl.  Sept. 4, Downtown Presbyterian Church, 6pm.  Isn't the title intriguing enough?

It makes me want to think and write and reflect on the depth of what they're pointing to.  Really pretty incredible.  Much of what we take in (consume) is disastrous.  The awful manufactured foods we've gotten used to eating (watch "Food, Inc.").  The stuff we use as entertainment, whether it's fear-mongering or demeaning or doubting.  I'm thinking of the news and the movies, the magazines and TV shows.  We bring so much mess into our very beings-- some inadvertently pressed upon us, but most of it a voluntary response to our gnawing hunger for connection, significance or understanding.

It's a comedy in the same way Shakespeare constructs humor.  It's ridiculous to an extent that is truly sad.  I think of "The Taming of the Shrew" (hoping to see it at San Diego Shakespeare festival in a couple weeks!), and really, it's an atrocious concept.  In desperation to marry off the eldest daughter, a father pays a man to do whatever it takes.  The suitor/ groom takes a turn as a virtual ogre to turn a shrew into a lover.  Come on, it's absurd.  It's tragic.  It's an out-and-out brawl with human hearts and sensibilities at stake.  It's also pretty funny.  So, too, are our hearts engaged in comedic consumption.  We're a mess, concocting ridiculous solutions for ourselves.  Yet, we look at that mess, and as followers of Jesus, we somehow believe that the ending turns out well!  It's even a CLASSIC comedy, ending in marriage of Christ (the bridegroom) and his Church.

Hilarious as that is, we really don't need to take ourselves so seriously.  God invites us together to play and to eat the broken bread that truly nourishes.

I wish kids wrote things more often.

Life Humming, Blog Sputtering

The sun slides down to quietly close another day.  The weather is phenomenal-- I can almost imagine the dry air is part of autumn.  Palm trees mess up that image, but oh well.

Another day, and my to-do list still looms.  Instead of becoming the rare event of the month, it's now common to have several days a week completely full of meetings: churches, pastors, co-workers, friends.  Planning, praying, talking, exploring.  Here are some of the things on the docket (and my HOPE is to offer deeper profiles and information for you in future posts)----

-City College, with InterVarsity
-Third Avenue Charitable Organization (TACO)
-City Heights charter school & community center
-Bible study with some other young women nearby
-planning & leading a weekend prayer retreat
-supporting leadership at 2 local Presbyterian churches

Continuing to watch some irons in the fire: in Tijuana, at a local hospital, and with the Global Urban Trek. And renewing my energy for raising the financial support to keep it all going!

Back, with a Bang

Getting back to San Diego was a lengthy process, one that I don't even want to calculate.  Planes jumped me from Hong Kong to Vancouver, Vancouver to Los Angeles.  Trains took me from north L.A. to Union Station to downtown San Diego.  And I boarded a city bus to pop me over to my apartment.

I know that I could have asked a number of people to pick me up from the train depot, but come on, once I'd made it that far, why not just finish the public transportation adventure?  I didn't have to wait more than a few minutes for the next bus, and something inside me hinted that this was a good way to get myself back into San Diego life.

What followed was a loud and clear affirmation that YES, San Diego is a mission field!  Within a few stops of my getting on the bus, several other people filed in.  One was a man stooped and distant, clearly challenged by mental handicaps or drugs or both.  He gazed off to one side, muttering incoherently.  What immediately came to mind was: "I didn't see this anywhere in Asia."  As I flipped through my mental records, it surprised me that in fact, no, I had not encountered anything like this man in the past 2 weeks.  In that moment, his mental illness, drug abuse, and isolation confronted me, and the tragic dissonance only ramped up when a few stops later, a shouting match began on the bus.  The man had walked up to the bus driver and said something, to which the driver replied that he would not drive on until the man sat down.  The driver repeated himself several times, to no effect.  At that, several others on the bus, possibly fellow street-dwellers with this guy, began screaming at him to take a seat, they had places to go, etc. 

I sat in my seat, quietly watchful beside a man whose cane balanced against my backpack.  I wondered if riots happen on buses.  I wondered where all these homeless pals might be going on the bus.  But mostly I thought of how sad and twisted the situation was.  Here I was, back in the proud "land of the free," and I had not felt so disgusted in weeks.  I've heard people talk about poverty in the U.S. as a "hidden" phenomenon, but it was the bluntness, the obviousness, that hit me in this bus-ride drama.  A man, uncared-for, just wandering blindly through the streets and onto city transit?  Causing a score of people to run late on their bus route?  It's far from subtle.

Eventually another guy put his arm around the muttering man and loudly escorted him back to a seat.  He mocked him for "losing his place" and made jokes about what kind of drugs might be messing him up.  I sat and shook my head.  Vacation over, just like that.

Happily in Hong Kong

It's been a long first day here in Hong Kong... mostly made long by the days it took to get here and the lack of sleep to separate those days!  I can't really figure out what my "yesterday" was; I think I'll have to settle for simply acknowledging that I left San Diego on Wednesday, and today was Friday.  =)

But really, I can't believe I'm on the other side of the world.  As the sun rose over mountainous islands and the airplane began its descent this morning, I had a crazy moment of disorientation.  Really?  I'm on the other shore of the Pacific Ocean???  A thousand preparatory thoughts ran through my head: Okay, Laura, this time you might feel acute culture shock like you've never experienced before.  You won't know what people are saying or how they might interact with you.  You're entering a huge, fast-paced city.  Be ready.  (And stay awake!!!)

But the day was smooth, and it was fun.  My friend Ben picked me up and got me oriented to the bus, neighborhood and subway (and got us some fantastic lunch!) before heading out to work for the afternoon.  We walked through three local temples, the remnant of an old fishing village, a bustling street market, and a few "sitting out" spaces (literally, designated benches where people sit outside).  Then when Ben went in to the office, I struck out to see the HUGE Times Square mall.  (Laugh it up, friends.  It IS a sight to see.)  Hordes of people crowded through a Toy Story 3 display/ exhibit thing with sculptures and drawings of the movie's characters.  There were lots of Asian peace-sign photo ops going on-- too many to count.  I meandered my way over to Victoria Park-- gorgeous.  Had a halting conversation with an old man named Robert who was happy to see me, but I'm not sure why.  Got excited about a sign to the central library, and followed it.  Libraries are always beautiful.  I browsed through the stacks-- fascinated by how differently children's books are designed and organized in Chinese.  (Random.  Yes.  But I was curious.)  I read up on some Cambodia guide books and browsed worldwide newspapers for goings-on and information.

Just in time for a serious downpour, I struck out to find Ben again for dinner.  Tropical rain is something else, with its humid gusts and fatty raindrops.  Anyway, back to those guarded self-coaching thoughts that I had on the plane...  In fact, I haven't felt too helpless or shocked, even here.  It's been fun to try new things, and even more fun to simply learn, observe and ask questions.  To take in each street and the stories it tells.  I realized, as I took note of people, patterns, and movement through the park and library, that this has become habit and hobby for me.  Always pondering the context and even thinking, okay, who would I get to know by strategically spending time here?  Wondering what kind of ministry God might plant -- or already have underway! -- in any given place.  Asking for the conversations that will open a door or a window or simply offer a peak past the curtain or through the keyhole.

We'll see how it goes!  I get another day exploring here tomorrow (Saturday) and then hop down to Malaysia for World Conference on Sunday.  I have a feeling this trip is going to fly, but I'm already encouraged by its mix of familiar and adventure.

Newsletter Chi

(I mean chi - pronounced "chee" - like the energy source, like Tai Chi.)

Lots of you know.  Graciously, nobody's nagged or commented.  It's been a LONG time since I sent out a ministry newsletter email.  I've put it off.  I've done everything else on the list.  I've washed my sheets and vacuumed and taken walks and written cards to people.  But the time has come.

Those of us in the "biz" often lament the weird pressures of writing jolly newsletters to our various supporters.  Do we sound upbeat all the time?  Do we keep things real and gritty?  Do we have enough success stories?  Do we sound sufficiently busy?  Do people care?

I try to remind myself that people want to know how I am and what I've been doing.  They love me.  They want to know what my life is like.

Breathe in.  Wind up the computer.  The next engaging newsletter, coming right up.

Clarifying Words on Calling

"When you’ve found what you’ve been specially wired to do, you’ve found your GIFT. When you’ve found where it’s meant to shine, you’ve found your CALL. And when you’re using your gift in the place that you’ve been called, then you know that you are living out God's DESIGN. And there is nothing more gratifying that you can accomplish in all the world."

(a double-steal: I took this from a co-worker, who took it from someone else's blog.  oh information diaspora.) 


In and of itself, this is plenty to think about.  I'll only add that recently, I've given in to the truth that we NEVER fully figure these things out.  That may not be news to other people, but I know that the achiever in me really wants to get the answer and be set.  God, on the other hand, keeps on shaping and molding and adjusting and clarifying things.  Here's to being in the potter's hands...

Pieces of Life

This past week I've been crawling through the re-adjustment of being back in the U.S.  After a week in Mexico City, I'm missing friends and street vendors and crowded buses, and the days are grey and quiet here in San Diego.  I didn't know what "help" would look like, but I asked some friends for it.  They've done the things that good friends do: they've called and written and sent me scriptures and prayers.  They haven't busted into "The sun'll come out, TOMORROW...!" or anything ridiculous, but they've reminded me that life is good.  The  striking thing is that they've done that without platitudes or prescriptions for me.

What several friends did do-- not by my prompting, but apparently innately knowing what is good for the soul-- was tell me stories.  It didn't occur to me to ask-- far from it!-- but I've read and heard a collection of beautiful moments that they experienced these past few days.  I've read about sunrises over the ocean, and mist in fields of sunflowers.  They told me about kids jumping in and out of a pool.  They gave me a glimpse into the texture of a day, telling me what they saw, what they heard, what they felt.  They didn't interpret or draw conclusions from it; they just told it.

The comfort I found in that probably explains why we read books and watch TV and movies, but it's also different with friends.  The deep breath I took and the smile with which I responded had to do with feeling a little less far away, with thinking, ah, this is where ___ spent time today. 

Will you tell people where you were today?  What you saw?  What made you smile?  What made you sigh?  It is these things that make us humans, that make us real, that make us friends.