Wrecked for the Ordinary - : Social Action for Spiritual Misfits

I Carry You in Me and the Dust on My Feet

Wed, 10 Mar 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Written in Uganda:

These are the days when my "no" has been given away. Every pattern in my veins is "yes" and "amen." Somewhere beneath copper-colored strands of His earth, lies a past I used to define myself by. As I cast my open-hands to the breeze, I felt a stronger Tenderness pulsating through my palms. I was swallowed up by a measure of beauty, that you'll never find unless you pour your life out to find it.

In my chest were beating the amazing things He'd carried for so long. So many bright eyes were telling me stories, and then of course there were His. We had never been strangers. I had always known these ones, born as they were in my heart. I recognized her hands because even though she carried no wounds, I'd always known the sight of a Hand still bearing scars. It was His beckoning that led me to find her.

As I felt chocolate skin brush across mine in an stream of touches spanning eternity, I heard heartbeats that aligned with mine. I knew scattered pieces of my war-torn life were being gathered and brought back from exile.

It wasn't that I was learning to dance, instead I had no choice but to be danced with. Instructed by the One Whose voice sounds like playgrounds, I broke open. I was torn apart so that all could fall in. I barely even noticed the tears, endlessly though they fell. They were steady like His Hand upon my back. I found Him relentless. Unable to settle for less than all of me, I'd already signed myself away. It was all of me for all of them, through all of Him.

The beauty of it remained in everything that I was spilling over His feet.

I had been lying motionless in the arms of a dying dream for so long, and in those moments, I was gripped as You pulled me to my feet. Then somehow there was too much life kicking inside my chest and I couldn't stay still.

It was those ones who taught me the value of living alive inside the blazing love of a King. In his hand-writing I discovered what I'd been saved from. Through her scars I found the source of all my hope.

I used to see shadows where You were longing to be visible. I drew myself down, and there in the clouds of dust I found You. Far from choking me, never had I breathed easier than I did on these streets. You opened windows and I drank from Your eyes, there in the space between the sky that knows no boundaries and my own fragile frame. You had my knees on a threshing floor, but all I could see was love.

I could no longer see any lines. My death was about love. On the other side of blood lay an irreversible awakening. My heart forever stained by Love. This heart knows nothing but redemption.

Gabi has lived for 25 years with a heart that beats for Africa, despite currently living in the South of England. Her life is not her own and she has recently returned from spending the summer in Uganda. She is heading back to Uganda in January. Until then she is mostly to be found dreaming impossible dreams whilst barefoot. She can be found here .

The Power of One: One Love, One Person, One Moment

Mon, 8 Mar 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Yesterday I found out that a student at my school committed suicide. He jumped off the 8th story of his apartment complex to his death.

The reports flippantly state his suffering with severe depression, and the stark and alarming statements of his body being covered by a white sheet at the bottom of a bloody pool on the pavement.

It mentions that counselors are available from 8-5 to speak about the events and the respectable condolences.

I left school after hearing about this through a classmate as well as perusing online reports. My heart ached and I found myself walking faster as to get to my car quickly before I broke down in the streets. Car door shutting, I began to weep. As I stared at the computer screen moments before, reading statements that described his reported sadness and how he told his one good friend in this whole city what he just did through a written letter, my heart sunk.

It sunk, it burned, it hurt. It was angry at injustice and the hearts, including my own, that have not loved to our full measure through knowing and accepting the purest love..yet instead abandon it through our own way, prideful efforts that didn't feel so prideful.

I felt the weight of the situation, but in a way that had me engaged into the emotions of God, the deep sorrow and love He felt for this man, as well as this school, this community. His life mattered I felt Him speak to me. I felt Him also say that He knew Him too and that all was ok. I mean we can get into sovereignty issues here, but that's not really the point I'm trying to stir up.

I'm stirring up what was stirred in me, a very brutal look at my behavior and because of the conviction -- not condemnation -- that fell upon me... to speak and to love in every way I feel prompted to, to not reject back when I am in an atmosphere of rejection all around me, but to love as he would love and asks me to. When I get nothing in return. No thank you, no door held, but instead more harsh comments, more criticisms, and more doors slammed in my face. Yet the Lord says, do it again.

For though they may not understand, you understand things and I'm asking you to do these things and with an overflowing and joyous heart. Because it matters.

Though the past cannot be changed right now, I had to wonder if someone would have said something small to him that day, something encouraging, something that would have changed this man's mind. You think?

The weight of our actions and words fell heavy upon me.

The worthlessness of all the things I put hope in that I did not see or think that I did, made me nauseous as I drove him. I literally felt sick as I wailed and cried out to the Lord for life and salvation and love to come over this school. And that I would be changed and raised up to proclaim His name in boldness and no fear, however he asks me to do so.

This morning I found myself being drawn to Philippians and I read about unity. About how the Lord would such desire that we would act in such a way, whether he would be looking or not(well, he is), and that he would see us acting in ways that are worthy whether we are seen or not.

A true family stands together and is held together in adversity, and continues on when their leader is gone for a time...coming back to see the different team members stepping up and working together in order to function and function well.

Would the Lord, is the Lord pleased with us? Yes he loves, oh he loves us so, but is he sorrowful over the parts we do not see yet because we have become satisfied in our relationship with him instead of continuing to grow in love and in Him which ultimately gives us more revelation of who He is and how he sees and feels?

I wonder if He is sorrowful over how we bicker and banter over stuff that doesn't matter just to prove our own point, or when we do not see what the other is saying because we want it to be all comprehensive, instead of garnishing from their perspective and point?

Would he be sorrowful by the way we judge others and how we love to our own demise. How we love by our actions but our hearts are far engaged, yet, we appear well-like a great loving and servicing person?

Wouldn't our Daddy be pleased to see His children being of the same love? He cares so much that others are loved.

Sarah enjoys creating new things and old alike while traveling to new places. She enjoys art and restoration, a good cup of tea, and puppies.

Never Growing Up: Spiritual Lessons Learned from Peter Pan

Fri, 5 Mar 2010 00:00:00 GMT

"All this has happened before, and it will all happen again. But this time it happened in London. It happened on a quiet street in Bloomsbury. That corner house over there is the home of the Darling family. And Peter Pan chose this particular house because there were people here who believed in him..."

It was 1904.

Scottish novelist James Barrie's character Peter Pan, a rebellious young boy who refused to grow up, had begin to attract major public attention. He was introduced in the book The Little White Bird in 1902. While this book was a novel meant for adults, it quickly caught on to a much greater audience. Peter Pan's fame exploded when portions of the novel were turned into a live action play, The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up, in December of 1904.

Forty-nine years later, Walter Elias Disney cultivated the story into a feature-length animated movie.

In the Disney film, Peter's character is a fierce young boy who is adamantly sure that he never wants to become an adult. He is obsessed with adventure and stories. His imagination runs wild. He is careless, but courageous. He is relaxed, but resolute. He hasn't yet grown up.

In our culture's never ending quest to obtain material wealth and prosperity, is it wrong to say that perhaps, maybe, possibly, we left our imaginations behind?

Could it be that we are so busy creating profits that we have forgotten to create the future? Is it feasible to suggest that in a world dominated by stock market numbers, political wars, and corporate scandals, what's missing is storytelling?

Beyond storytelling, perhaps we don't even believe in stories anymore. Maybe our imaginations have eroded on a linear, or even worse, an exponential pace, with our age. Maybe our tolerance of pure "faith" has been destroyed by the scientific quest for hard knowledge that can be proved.

"Peter Pan chose this particular house because there were people here who believed in him."

Throughout history, God has used many people to accomplish His plans for humanity. I believe that He either works because of us, or in spite of us. Either way, we will be used. Which side are you on?

In our daily quest to pursue truth, maybe imagination is the missing ingredient.

Walt Disney once famously remarked, "I can never stand still. I must explore and experiment. I am never satisfied with my work. I resent the limitations of my own imagination."

When we began to believe, things start to happen-often far beyond our wildest dreams. Imagination is the first step in any journey. When we lose our imagination, we become domesticated, and domestication is a sworn enemy of any person of faith.

According to Jesus, "Children are at the very center of life in the kingdom. Mark this: Unless you accept God's kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in."

If imagination is as essential to life as history shows, here's to never growing up.

Tim is a writer hoping that somehow, someway, his work will influence the world in a positive way. He is currently an undergraduate student at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

A Heart for the Un-Lovely

Mon, 1 Mar 2010 00:00:00 GMT

From Uganda:

Twenty five years ago, God saw that He needed one who would take His heart and splash it over the ones the world calls 'un-lovely'.' He dreamed my heart up and with His breath it began to sway into motion. 'You were born for the un-lovelies.'' This was the refrain I'd heard over me on July 11th of this year. Yet somehow in the space between England and Africa, I'd misplaced that promise. I didn't remember it until I began to write this.

Most mornings before we left the hotel, we were reminded to be on the look-out for kids who dwelt on the fringes. Sitting silently, pulled back within the arms of Peace, I would nod. I found that the reminder was mostly so I didn't forget Him. The words He'd spoken over me in the middle of the night were coming true. They looked fires in front of my eyes. In the morning light things looked clearer. The heat then came alongside me at midday. I found my strength was only in Him. The things I'd heard in the morning took no conscious effort to recall. They had become part of my spirit.

She was the brightest shadow there ever was. The light in her eyes was so unknown to me, that for my first few days at home I missed it entirely. The days crept past me, and her heart had yet to be encountered. It was on the Sunday that He drew her up inside the depths of my heart. Slipping into my seat, my gaze was instantly on Him. It took me by surprise when I noticed shortly after, that there was another occupying the space beside me. As she introduced herself, I smiled.

Pamela sat beside me asking if I'd ever consider marrying a Ugandan man. Whether my parents were comfortable with the idea of me living in Uganda on a more long-term basis. Her eyes filled with surprise upon learning that I knew how to wash clothes by hand. I handed her my most cherished dream. I let her hold it and did not grab after it, even after many minutes had gone by. Question after question she would ask. Smiling, I kept shrugging. We drove for miles. Upon arrival at the prison, our ways parted. I did not share honest conversation with her again for days.

It was the hottest day I've ever been a part of. I was blessed with the opportunity to be a part of an outreach to the families in Gganda Village. My soul had kicked back at me when I had sought the easier way. If I had chosen, I could have stayed behind at Hope, safe in the embrace of my treasures. Instead I saw footsteps in the dirt outside, and the lines in my palms were aching to be made darker. Leaving my comfort behind, I felt a sister drawing by my side. My inheritance was becoming greater by the second.

The boundary lines were taking new places. Some of my sisters were before me. Then she spilled beauty over me unknowingly. Pouring out a story like nothing that has ever crossed my ears before, I met with Hope. Hope that is more real than the hue of blue that the sky carried that afternoon. This was the first time I could hold a pair of eyes in my gaze. This was the first time I have felt the peace that comes from the hole that fear leaves. There was wealth about her every mention of loss. There was promise that bled through her every wound. Yet my heart began to shatter beyond any depth it had even dared to go before this day.

She knew every nuance of tragedy. Never before had I been with a pair of eyes that held so much shame.She had spent many years in the strangle-hold of grief. After losing her Mum, and every corner of her home in a fire, she was then robbed of her only blood relative. Her Father cast her aside, and her little girl was taken from her. I listened, and lost my breath with every new sentence that fell from her lips. Grief shook through me. My steps remained firm. My heart inhaled Him in thicker gulps. It was then that I heard the words that would come to keep me awake through the night. Pamela is living with AID's. That sickness takes up her body that has been set apart for His glory. Not that you would know it from the brightness in her smile. Or the beauty of her trusting eyes.

From the age of 12, my heart has throbbed under the weight of the pain of those afflicted with AIDS. I have spent countless hours weeping with them. I have used my nights to lift their hearts before His throne of limitless grace and mercy. Yet this was the first time that my skin had brushed against one of those who own a piece of my heart. I am still taken aback by the memory of that hour. The way He brought us into the same space in time. There is none like Him.

Days later I would hear words that I will never understand. Especially cascading from the heart that I thought I knew. He told me there was no part of his heart that longed to pour help into her life. There was nothing about her that cried out to his heart. I felt empty as he spoke. His words threatened to drain the life from my veins. Yet there was a burning about me that would not stay shut inside. Her actions were seen as coming from a heart that cared little for others. Her words were seen as those not stemming from the goodness of our King. My arms were breaking to hold her as she allowed her tears to finally flow out of her. He had the keys to unlock her and He seemed to be unlocking my heart more entirely, so I could be the one who would not overlook her.

See I've been desperate. I know what desperation looks like. I wore it on my face for fifteen years. I carried it in my eyes and in my hands. I met with it as my eyes opened each day. I lived from it until my eyes closed over it some hours later. I've moved in steps that desperation taught me. I've spoken through lips so parched and longing that they make unfair demands. I lived a life of ferocious breaking. I memorized the way that tears use your cheeks as a cushion for the pain. My longing had been masked in the same foul disguises. My knees had been in need of the same falling sound. My eyes shut and my mouth stayed silent.

You said she could use someone like You. That all I had to do was be Who You dreamed of me being, and speak the words Your breath inside of me gave birth to. When she handed me that letter, my spirit screamed to answer the words in the way that my flesh would have loved. She asked me stay in Uganda. She said she did not want to miss me. She still loved me she said. She said she wanted me to join her on the stage and dance. She said she would not cease praying for me when we were apart. He lead me to the inside of His Heart, and showed me beauty as it shone through the story of her soul.

Pamela, if I were standing beside you right now, I'd be saying 'nkwagala nyo nyo nyo''. Your pain has made me different, sister. I long for the day when we are together again.

"Then the King will say, I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was Me-you did it to Me." (Matthew 25:40, MSG)

Church Shopping 101: A Guide for Consumer Christians

Sun, 28 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

For the ecclesiastically challenged out there, this guide's for you. If you're fed up with the color of the carpet, boring sermons, generic donuts, or the terrible lead guitar player at your current church, maybe it's time to consider looking for another house of worship.

Today's church market is more competitive than ever, and this translates into low levels of commitment for you, the consumer.

Smithian free-market economics has created a dream situation for church shoppers -- decreased demand in religious seekers has current churches scrambling to keep their doors open, which leads to great deals for consumers.

The oversaturation of the religious market that occurred in the last few decades has proven deadly for pastors, and many churches that rode the rising tide of the prosperity gospel movement have found themselves struggling to stay afloat as that tide receded. An overabundance of supply coupled with a massive decrease in demand has created an inevitable perfect storm for church shoppers -- purchasing power is greater now than ever before.

While still far behind our neighbors across the Pond, the American church has seen a steady decline in market share in the last few years. Other Sunday activities, mainly sleep, have cut into weekend time slots traditionally reserved for church. To combat this, churches have diversified their product line into an impressive array of low-commitment appetizers, such as online sermon podcasts and short-term small groups.

Many churches now feature happy hours designed for "seekers," which feature programming designed for especially frugal religious shoppers. These free-trial experiences have translated into frequent return customers --a good sign for pastors who find themselves in a struggling religious marketplace.

Sick of overwhelming commitments and stressful sacrifices? Today's houses of worship offer many experiences and solutions... with no down payments! While our parents were expected to attend church programming at least twice a week to retain their membership status, today's churches require little or no risk on your part. If you don't like what you see, nobody is making you stay.

Tired on Sunday mornings? Try the evening service. Sick of smelly old people and their outdated hymns? Try the young adult Saturday evening service. Weirded out by the candles and tight jeans? Join an "online community," a church experience specifically designed for those of us who prefer cyber-interaction to the real thing.

Whatever your style or preference, today's ekklesia has a solution just for you!

It's easier now than it has ever been to get plugged in at a local church -- in most cases, you don't even need to leave the comfort of your bed, assuming you have a laptop with wireless internet capabilities. Still scared off by unrealistic expectations and spiritual conviction? No worries, today's sermons are diet versions of the traditional two-hour discourse of our parents' age, and rarely (if ever) intimidate us into making lifestyle changes we aren't ready for.

There has never been a better time to invest in a local congregation. What are you waiting for?

Tim is a writer hoping that somehow, someway, his work will influence the world in a positive way. He is currently an undergraduate student at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Hope for the Church in a Post-Postmodern World

Sat, 27 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Ben and Jerry's is one of the biggest ice cream conglomerates in the world. Most know Ben and Jerry's for their
plethora of flavors and creative interactive buffet of items to add to their ice cream. It's like Disneyland for the
taste buds. This corner shop enterprise is a great metaphor for the global shift from postmodernism
to pseudo-modernism that is happening today.

A lot of people have been talking about the death of many things lately. The death of culture, the death of church, the death of the emerging conversation and even the death of postmodernism. But, what will take its place and how will that affect how we see the world and react to our faith-traditions? And how can we use this information to transform things like debt down to zero?

Some anthropologists are using the term pseudo-modernism to explain the new incoming cultural shift. Others refer to this as post-postmodernism. Postmodernism tends to be a knee-jerk reaction against modernism. In its origin, it was a reaction against modern architecture. Postmoderns believed that the way things were constructed weren't indicative of the nature of the shift of culture. And so out of postmodernism came the necessary question "What is reality?" and "Who gets to define reality?"

Pseudo-modernism takes that question a step further and actually gives reality a definition. It says that anything that can't be interacted with isn't real. Just because a book is written doesn't make it a book, but when you interact with it that interaction makes it a book.

A church service isn't a church service unless we can interact with it.

Where postmodernism reality was always hanging by a thin thread, pseudo-modernism says that reality can only only be defined as an experience of the senses. This new cultural shift means we can no longer solely depend upon things like logic or debate to defend what we believe. In fact, there is no room for debate or defense in pseudo-modernism. The generations that live through this awkward transition along with those who are born during its reign will come to see the world as one big cinematic experience.

The world, religion, discussion, the Bible, Jesus and others in the milieu will not get to "argue" their case unless they can be interacted with. Interaction is the new reality. The name of the new game is a surrender to a sensory overload. For those who decide to stay modern or even postmodern will be shunned by these new virtual realists because those would choose to stay where they are don't want to interact.

The gospel in Aramaic doesn't mean "four steps to peace with God"; it means only "hope" has to become even more fluid. More engaging and less supported but structure and even theology. It is hope unfettered by the Jesus' of our theology. It is hope that can be seen and felt. Hope that can be tasted and seen.

Churches can no longer survive on the assumption that only one person can share their thoughts on the divine. If this model continues, the Church will continue to decay as it has been. In terms of pseudo-modernism, the Church would have to completely alter their way of doing things and re-frame their whole ethos and worldview to allow for more interactive opportunities driven by eye-candy.

Theology as an educational pursuit might just cease to exist. In the world of pseudo-modernism the new education answers the question, "How can I experience things like God, truth, peace, love and grace in an explosion of sensory overload?"

This might seem like an unsettling worldview to even agree with or let alone validate for most people. But this might be what we need to move us out of our pews and into the world like we were first invited to be. The more time we spend being the movement that the Church should always have been the closer we come to meeting people at the point of their need and bring hope.

But, in the world of the pseudo-modernists, it isn't about bringing hope. It's about being hope. Incarnating hope in such a way that people will see, believe, touch, smell and taste the divine reconciliation that has already happened and is offered to them.

George loves the outdoors, singing in the shower and doing underwater, synchronized pilates. He is currently working on a book entitled Jesus Bootlegged: Recapturing the Stolen Message of Jesus for The World. You can read more about him at his blog.

Let's Talk About Sex

Wed, 24 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

For from within, out of men's hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery. -Mark 7: 21

I looked up the word sex in the New International Version of the Bible, and it appears at least fifty-six times. Most of the references are found in Leviticus about abstaining from weird sexual practices (like having sex with animals). However, Colossians 3:5 caught my attention. "Put to death... sexual immorality." Really?

I thought the New Testament was a loving, warm and fuzzy kind of testament. How did the "doom and gloom," "hell, fire, and brimstone" of the Old Testament make it into the New Testament? I know pastors preach a lot about loving others, but I found it particularly interesting to pair ...love with death.

Proverbs also warns us of how quickly sexual immorality ruins a person's life - even to the point of death. "For the lips of an adulteress drip honey, and her speech is smoother than oil; but in the end she is bitter as gall, sharp as a double-edged sword. Her feet go down to death; her steps lead straight to the grave" (Proverbs 5:3-5).

When I was surveying over 300+ twenty-somethings for my devotional book I was writing, I was shocked. More than half of people, ages 18-35, who took my survey asked about sex and how one stays sexually pure in their relationships.

For instance, Aaron, 27, said, "I think abstinence before marriage is the most important thing. We all fail at that on many levels, and shouldn't beat ourselves up, but we should strive for purity in this area."

Many people who say they are Christians engage in premarital sex, and here are a few common reasons why:

Test drive first. Buy later.

How do you know if the person you're going to live with for the rest will satisfy your sexual appetite?

But we love each other...

Many couples are on their way to true love, but let me ask you this: How many couples who say they love each other end in marriage?

More and more Christian marriages end in divorce. So what's the point? You're an adult. You can make your own choices. When the words "death", "dead", or "dying" show up in the Bible consistently regarding adultery, premarital sex, sexual immorality and the like maybe we should listen.

Dear Put-to-Death Jesus,
Abstinence in today's world is a four-letter word. Staying the path of life instead of death can be quite scary. Protect the purity of our minds, hearts, and actions as we follow after you today. Amen.  

Renee is a spirited speaker and writer to the 20-somethings and her first book releases in March of 2010. You can buy a copy of Faithbook of Jesus, read her blog, and follow her on Twitter.

Discovering Faith Through Pain in Haiti

Wed, 24 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

It started with a touch. While exploring a neighborhood, the pastor of a local church lead me into the yard of a very nice home. Rather, what was once a very nice home. The concrete home had crumbled during the quake. The outside walls fell first, then the second story partially collapses onto the first floor.

I was in full journalist mode.

I asked the pastor if he thought it would be okay if I took a few pictures. I took some wide angle shots to capture the size of the home and the magnitude of the destruction.

Then I walked towards the rubble pile to get some close-ups of the front steps. Just as I was looking at the lighting and the subject, I felt a gentle touch on my right elbow. I turned my head to the right just in time to see they eyes of a young man, about my height.

"This is my house," he told me in broken English. "I used to live here until the earthquake.

"I am so sorry." I lowered my camera as I now felt like an intruder. "I see that you are fine, was everyone else OK?" He took a few seconds to answer and I wasn't sure if he had run out of words in English or if he was struggling to find the right words.

Either way, I instantly shifted from journalist mode to pastor mode. As I turned 90 degrees to face him he began to speak again. "As I felt the house begin to shake I started to run outside. I made it to the steps when the house..." He put both hands out and motioned that the building collapsed. I got trapped but someone was able to pull me out." Then a long, painful pause, "But my sister died." My heart sank.

We continued to talk. I couldn't figure out if his parents also died or if they had moved away to another Province... But the fact remained that this 18 year old boy was now all alone."Where are you living?" it was a question I asked because I didn't know what else to say. "I don't have anywhere to go. So I try to sleep where I can, mostly in a field." He said matter-of-factly.

An 18 year-old boy, deep in mourning, sleeping under the stars among the cries and chaos of a collapsed city. My mind raced with thoughts of what it must be like.

"Do you have bad dreams since the earthquake?" He told me that he barely slept. That he just laid on the ground hoping for sleep that never came. It seemed as though each moment of his day was consumed in reliving the horror. "Was it loud when the house fell down?" I asked him. "Yes, very loud. I cannot forget the sound of the walls falling."There are thousands of Bertrand's in Haiti today. But the Holy Spirit was prompting me to find out what his needs are and see if there was anything I could do. We talked a little about food and shelter, but he didn't seem interested. So I closed our time by praying with him.

"Mr. Adam, there is one way that you can help me." His eyes now full of fiery hope. "I don't have anything. I have no place to live, no food, no water. But that doesn't matter to me because I know God will take care of me. The one thing I need, when the school re-opens, is to go back to school. But I do not have money for the fees. My parents are gone."

This floored me. It represented the hope we heard all over the city for the future of the Haitian people. Somehow they know that immediate relief aid is only part of the problem. This young man knew that to truly change his life he needed to lay a solid foundation of education.

I took his picture and told him I would see what I could do. What he didn't know is that I took that picture and broadcast it on Twitter and Facebook. Within minutes I had several people willing to pay the 3000 Haitian dollars (About $75 USD) for him to attend school for one-year.

It's easy to get lost in the numbers of this event. More than 200,000 people killed. 3,000,000 people displaced. More than 750,000 living in tent cities.

And yet each of those numbers has an individual story to tell. Each of them has their own pain and hopes to wrestle though. Each has their own grieving process.

In a way, while I cannot tell all of their stories, each story needs to be heard.

Adam is the online community guy for Youth Specialties. He lives in the Rolando neighborhood of San Diego with his wife Kristen and two children, Megan and Paul. He is a blogger and recently returned from the Youth Ministry Advance Team: Haiti trip.

Ninety Minutes in a Ugandan Prison

Tue, 23 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I have officially experienced the greatest church service of my entire life. And it happened in a men's prison in Soroti, Uganda.

On Sunday, after church, we climbed on a batch of bodas and rode off to the outskirts of town. A brief downhill ride later, we coasted into the Soroti government prison.

I have to be honest. I was terrified. I mean, the only interaction I've had with the word "prison" usually involves really intense movies or some kind of over-dramatized depiction of life in the slammer.

This was definitely not a prison film.

Julia went with Mike and Denise to the women's side of the prison, while the rest of us went with Pastor Jane to the men's side. One of the inmates, Alex, met us at the gate and shook our hands, saying, "Praise the Lord." He took Grant's guitar case and took us through the compound, which was open and sunny, where prisoners were walking around freely. Some were in the prison's yellow uniforms; some were in street clothes. Alex led us under the shade of a mango tree, where a few benches and a lectern were set up for us to hold a service. More church services should take place under fruit trees.

The first ten minutes of the service were the best ten minutes of my life. There were about 150 inmates around us, under the tree and seated outside nearby buildings. A group of about ten had instruments in hand. There were thumb pianos, drums, small harps, hand shakers, the works. And the men who had no instruments had their hands, and when the music started up, those hands clapped with more fervor than any congregation I'd seen yet. Their voices called out loud and strong, and they danced in time to the music, keeping the beat with their hands.

These men had lost their earthly freedom, but they had the understanding of their spiritual freedom: the freedom that is found in Jesus. It's a humbling experience when a group of African inmates can "out-praise" the largest megachurch in the States. It's also the purest form of praise. When you have nothing, not even your freedom, you have nothing to lose or gain. There's nothing holding you back from yelling at the top of your lungs. So they did. They jumped, they danced, they sang, they shouted, they expressed their joy to their Lord above. All this from the confines of prison.

Joe delivered a message to the men, after which, we asked them if they could play again. Again, the thumb pianos started up, and the voices rose. We weren't allowed to bring cameras into the facility, but even though none of us were able to get video footage, the songs that were lifted in praise will stay with me for quite some time.

I wonder why prisons in America aren't as joyful as the ones in Uganda.

Liz is a missionary on the World Race, an 11-month mission trip around the world.

Solidarity with Haiti: Texting Earthquake Relief

Sat, 20 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I got an email yesterday saying I could send a text message which would donate $10 to the relief effort in Haiti after the catastrophic earthquake. A single text message, and my conscience is clear, right?

Not quite, and I certainly hope that's not the case for those who decide to use this method of donating money. I hope we would feel a stronger sense of responsibility to the people of Haiti than simply sending $10 and being done with it. But how does a person begin to feel a sense of responsibility toward another?

Theologian Jurgen Moltmann writes, "It is only in the foreign land that we experience what home is. It is only in the face of death that we experience the uniqueness of life. It is only in strife that we know how to appreciate peace. It is in our encounter with others that we experience our own selves."

In the case of the earthquake in Haiti, how much of ourselves will we be compelled to give if we do not know a single Haitian? The images and news reports will pull at our heartstrings, but what will urge us to draw from resources we might not have known we had? Simple answer: Friendship.

I pass by people asking me for money every day and inevitably, I say no. Enter Calvin and his wife. They are very nice. I've known them about a year. Every week we gather with some other friends and neighbors from the community and have dinner together. Calvin is one of the funniest guys I've ever met, and his wife is always full of energy. One night, Calvin showed up at my door. He told me times were hard and that he and his wife were so low on funds that they couldn't even buy necessities like food and toilet paper.

I don't like to practice random charity: just giving people something and telling them to go away. That's why I didn't feel right giving Calvin a few dollars, but I didn't do much better. I told him I would not give him any money, but I would give him some toilet paper (luckily I had just stocked up) and a few canned goods. We chatted for a few minutes, and then he was on his way. Surely, there must have been a better option.

I like to think that the little exchange we had as we talked did the most good to comfort Calvin that night. It wasn't much, but it was more than just clearing my conscience. It was me battling with my conscience, battling with my relatively privileged background, and battling with my own selfishness. I knew Calvin and that personal connection meant that I had to do more than just appease my conscience. I had to concern myself with a friend.

Since the earthquake occurred in Haiti, I have been invited to at least five prayer services. When I received these invitations, my initial reaction was one of disgust. It would be disgusting to sit in a beautifully-adorned cathedral while hundreds of thousands suffer without food, water, or shelter. It would be disgusting to pretend my meager words would help at all. Most of all, it would be disgusting to use words and thoughts instead of actions at a time like this. Yet, in the middle of my disgust, I am reminded of the words of King Solomon, who said "there is a time for mourning, and a time for dancing." (Ecclesiastes 3:4) If anything, this is a time for mourning.

As I've begun to mourn this devastation, I feel a keen sense of God's mourning as well. In a special way, God is with those who suffer and is himself familiar with suffering. Henri Nouwen writes, "The violence, greed, lust, and so many other evils that have distorted the face of the earth and its people cause the beloved Son of God to mourn. We too must mourn if we hope to experience God's consolation."

Perhaps our disgust in times of tragedy is simply a means of mourning and should be embraced. If this is the case, does our anger and disgust bring us closer to the heart of God and stir us to action? Will our times of mourning lead us into times of dancing, where we become passionately involved in God's redemptive activity in the world?

Getting to know people is difficult. Some may ask why we should spend our lives with folks who are different from us when there are plenty of places where we may find similar people? What if we find things about ourselves that we don't like as we interact with others? This is a danger that requires courage and a good deal of prayer.

Though most of us will never know a person living in Haiti, there are people all around us waiting to be known, though years of rejection may have caused them to build up defenses. Patiently breaking through these defenses is not for the weak of heart. However, as we stretch ourselves toward others, mourning and dancing with them, we begin to catch small glimpses of that beloved community Martin Luther King, Jr. once spoke about. These small glimpses will transform and sustain us as participants in God's reconciling work in this world.

So please, send your donations and go to prayer services in beautiful cathedrals. These are great things. Remember, though, that lasting change is only found in solidarity with others.

Adam is a hip-hop artist (MC Till) and member of the Walnut Hills Fellowship in Cincinnati, Ohio. For more information, visit www.mctill.com or email him at mctillmusic@gmail.com.

Beau is a candidate for ministry in the Presbyterian Church (USA) studying at Louisville Seminary. You can email him at bbrown1@gmail.com.

Photo by Adam McLane.

In Christ: A Poem

Fri, 19 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Being in Christ,
My perception is resurrected,
Raised from the death
            of dim, dreary cynicism.
I look at the world through new eyes.

Where once I saw despair
And sunk to the depths,
Losing my humanity,
Trading it in,
Now I see hope
            Upon hope
                        Upon hope
                                    Upon Christ,
The firm foundation which supports my life.

And being in Christ
Means being in Grace.
And being in Grace
Means no fear to face,
No fear but the fear of God,
            Which isn't the same
As the fear of death that I once felt
            When death came calling my name.

And now I've died to myself,
            My old ways are dead,
And I've rose in new life
            With love as the head.

C: 2009, H.F. Vance III.

To listen to the audio that accompanies this piece visit the Holster Myspace site.

Harold lives with his beautiful wife, Nicole, and spaz-tastic kitten, Olwethu, in the midst of the mountains and valleys of northern Vermont, where he teaches and learns from young adults with special needs and special gifts in an alternative high school setting.

Creative Gospel-Sharing: Eternal Hope on a Cardboard Sign

Fri, 19 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Ashley Huizenga writes from Byron Bay, Australia, where she and a group of friends creatively shared the redemptive message of Jesus through cardboard signs:

Byron Bay has been educational in finding new ways to approach ministry. The people here are mostly comprised of backpackers who come to get drunk. It's a surfing town and a magnet for people hanging on to the hippie lifestyle. Spirituality here is common and open for discussion with most of the population.

If you like reading the Bible, check out Zephaniah -- Byron is a lot like that book.

Creativity and tactic in how you present your message is extremely important in a place like this. Because it's spiritual, a lot of people already know a lot of what we might have to say. And a lot of them have heard it from people coming in but sharing the truth of Jesus in ways too brash for this community that's left a worn-out bad taste in their mouths.

One way we've found to be effective with sharing our message is by standing on a street corner with a cardboard sign. We write a phrase or question that will provoke conversation with passersby. The phrase/question gives us an opportunity to talk about God and salvation. Check out this video, and you can get a better idea:

Has the Gospel message become old and worn-out in some cultures? How could you creatively share it in a new, paradigm-shifting way... as it was intended?

Ashley is a 23 year-old native Floridian with a passion for art. She is currently on The World Race, an 11-month mission trip around the world.

The Book of Eli: What We Think of the Bible

Thu, 18 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I saw The Book of Eli the other night, and ever since, I've been telling all my friends to drop what they're doing and go see it before it leaves theaters. It was that good. The visual effects are stunning, the story line is rich, and the plot is full of twists and turns that are ultimately redemptive.

Hollywood finally does a decent job of representing a faith-based worldview without resorting to downright blasphemy or relativism. The wanton violence and desperation of the land is juxtaposed with the hope of one book carried by a man named Eli (Denzel Washington).

Set in a post-apocalyptic world (think: Mad Max in the United States), The Book of Eli isn't a story about love between two people or war between nations; it's not about the plight of pandemic disease or global warming. It's a story about a book. One very powerful book and its relationship to humanity.

Believe it or not, the book is actually the Bible -- it's not a book that's implied to be the Bible or any other religious text. It's the actual King James Version, leather-bound, coffee-table-sized Holy Bible.

This sacred book that everyone is trying to get their hands on is believed to carry incredible power. Most recognize its potency -- if for no other reason than the fact that so many are trying to find one. Some even see it as a means of control, to be used to gain power and subjugate other people. The main antagonist Carnegie (Gary Oldman) knows that this will work, because, "It's worked before." There are a few, like Eli, who see the book as a means of enacting mercy and justice; in it, they find a message of inherent human dignity and self-sacrifice.

Much in the spirit of 300, but without quite so much gore and "cartoonishness", the contrasts are high, and the colors are bleak. We know little about the current state of the planet, other than it has been 30 years since "The War", and few things are as they once were. Most people aren't from the previous age; all that they know is this bleak, illiterate world, full of chaos and lawlessness.

The film throws out a few subtle and not-so-subtle critiques of America -- everything from religious legalism to American consumerism is addressed explicitly or implicitly. As Eli explains to the young Solara (Mila Kunis) our current economy, she is stunned (and so should we):

"People had more than they needed. We had no idea what was precious and what wasn't. We through away things people kill each other now. People had more than they needed. We had no idea what was precious and what wasn't. We through away things people kill each other now."

Aside from a couple of poorly-quoted Bible verses (he does a hodge-podge of translations when quoting Psalm 23) and one cheesy final scene that almost undoes the redemption of Kunis (she is branded in my mind as "That Seventies Show Girl"), The Book of Eli is impeccable. It may be one of the best mainstream movies about faith, God, and spirituality in the past ten years. As far as I'm concerned, it's close to Gran Torino (which I thought was fantastic) in its ability to portray the message of the Gospel through a culturally-relevant story that is ultimately redemptive.

On a personal level, this movie really convicted me. I have at least 10 Bibles at home (not an exaggeration), and sometimes go days without reading one of them. And I just saw a movie where people killed to get one... and protect one. However, the feeling it evoked more than anything else was gratitude.

It's trendy these days to criticize the Bible, to believe that it is merely an aid to help one grow closer to God. I am most definitely guilty of thinking that I don't need the Bible. But when you see films like this, it reminds you that this is not just any book. It does indeed contain the words of life that can change an individual and the world... for better or worse.

Having seen The Book of Eli, I now have a better appreciation of the importance of religious scribes who ensured the accuracy in translation (and transcription) of God's Word. I understand why Ezra was so emphatic about reading the Book of the Law to the Israelites when they returned to the Holy City. It makes more sense to me why the Reformers fought so hard to get the Bible into the hands of everyday people. It's no wonder that Christians in persecuted countries die for a little scrap of the New Testament.

Carnegie was right. There really is power in that book.

Jeff graduated from Illinois College, a small liberal arts school, with a degree in Spanish and Religion. He lives in Nashville, TN. He works for Adventures In Missions, edits this silly little magazine, and loves to do new things. He just got married in January. Check out his blog: Pilgrimage of the Heart.

Provoking the Enemy: Reflecting on Amy Bishop Shooting

Thu, 18 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Written in response to the shooting incident at UA-Huntsville where professor Amy Bishop gunned down three colleagues:

A 14-year-old boy takes a gun to school and murders his classmate. Exactly a week later, in the same town, a college professor takes a gun to school and shoots up a meeting with her fellow faculty.

This happened in a quaint northern Alabama city. It happened in my city.

This city is a city of high moral values and family friendliness. Where some cities have a bar on every corner, this has a church. Those churches are active in going into ghettos and strip clubs, reaching out to the wounded and getting rid of the evil.

All my life, I've had friends visit me from all over the country and all over the world. The comments are the same: never have they seen such a close Christian community like the one I experience every day.

With all of this, there is no question that the Enemy hates this city, this boldly evangelical city. It's a wonder that his tactics for fighting back have been so minimal.

But after such evil as we have experienced recently, we can be assured that he is not sleeping. He's prowling, looking for ways to target his greatest Foe. So he frightens us with shootings in schools and laughs when we think harsher gun laws and putting up metal detectors will stop the wickedness.

But we have reason to laugh, too. For we know with certainty that he will not win. Let him have his small victories. Let him work his schemes on his wacko servants who think they use guns for their own purposes. We know the truth.

Our Master may will that our victories come to an end in this place. But no matter where the enemy takes up residence and even, seemingly, control, he will never be in charge. The same enemy who had to ask God's permission to torment Job has to ask permission of the Almighty to torment my city.

And the Almighty has greater plans for this torment. It is not useless evil or pointless pain. It is to show Himself faithful to His servants and display His glory amidst a perverted generation.

So His servants will continue to fight until we are called home. We will continue to provoke the enemy without fear. Our Master is, and always will be, stronger. The enemy has already been defeated. It is only a matter of time before he is taken captive and tried for his rebellion.

And he knows that time is running out.

If you liked this, check out: The North Side: Looking Beyond Appearance

Katherine is a freelance writer and blogger. She loves to go on random adventures and work odd jobs, if only to have something to write about. When she's not adventuring, she is playing sister to her girlfriends, guy-friends, and five younger siblings. Katherine lives in Alabama with her family.

Beauty Lifts Us Off the Earth: Interview with Matt Brouwer

Tue, 16 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I met independent artist Matt Brouwer several months ago and really enjoyed getting to know him. In addition to hearing his heart about music, I was also able to hear him play "Come Back Around" live, and listen to his love for missions. We even chatted about artistic expression and social action.

It was a great conversation.

Here's a video excerpt of that conversation (don't mind my frumpiness; I think that I forgot to brush my hair that day):

For more about Matt Brouwer, check out his website: MattBrouwer.com. To find out more about the nonprofit he helped found, visit New Beginning Resources online.

The Plea for Partisanship

Mon, 15 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

It's quite peculiar when our political leaders rally to put an end to "partisan politics," urging us to work together for the common good. It's a very cute, fluffy, and innocent sounding idea.

Ideally, we would never argue. Ideally, we would work together for the good of the country. Ideally, filibusters and vetoes wouldn't be necessary. Then again, ideally, we wouldn't have the need for a government.

Partisanship, an elitist word simply meaning "disagreement," has had its character assassinated (another great political phrase) by both major parties. The p-word has now taken on an altogether negative association, thanks to the very people who criticize it. It is a cruel irony when either party calls for an end to the p-word, for this call is usually followed by an attack on the opposing party for engaging in covert acts of partisanship.

The truth is, the progression of humanity has depended upon partisanship for its very survival. Without partisanship, we can quietly erase the abolition of slavery, the Civil Rights and Suffrage movements, the repeal of Prohibition, and numerous war protests from our history textbooks. It remains no small detail that without partisanship, we wouldn't even have history textbooks to erase, unless they were covering the history of our friends across the Pond.

Dissent has played a leading role in the drama of Western history. Because we do not live in a perfect world, it is necessary for social and political rebels to occasionally rise up and revolt against the powers that be.

Thomas Jefferson once boldly asked, "What country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance...the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots & tyrants. It is its natural manure."

While it's not ideal, neither is government. While it's not perfect, neither is humanity. As long as heaven cannot be used to describe our present state of existence, partisanship will be a necessary evil in the fight for all that is good.

The day that we abandon partisanship as a way of combating our political and social enemies will signify one of two things-we have either given up on the pursuit of hope, or we have achieved our ultimate goal.

It is true that sometimes the end justifies the means. The only question is discerning which is which.

Tim is a writer hoping that somehow, someway, his work will influence the world in a positive way. He is currently an undergraduate student at North Central University in downtown Minneapolis.

Remedy for the Hurting Church

Sun, 14 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

How better to convince someone who Jesus is than to show them the reality of what He has done in our own lives. I wouldn't have a chance of matching wits with some of the scholars who have written numerous books on Jesus and the church. It is with heart and the painful experiences of life that I choose to stand toe to toe with those who make a mockery of the Bible and the life changing power of Christ.

It is with life experience that I can prove that "...God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise...." (1 Corinthians 1:27) It isn't a piece of paper hanging on a wall that qualifies me to stand up and demand change. It is the very scars of life that will transform the message of this book into a burning desire for a new way of thinking. My words were not merely written during intense thought and arduous study, but forged through many hours of sweat and tears. The following testimony is witness to the transforming power of Jesus:

Ah, the good life... or so I thought.

I came home from college after my first semester and married my high school sweetheart. Let's jump ahead about ten years. I was still preaching, and Angie and I now have a daughter and great, well-paying jobs. We built a brand new home, and both of us drove nice vehicles. I guess we weren't rich, but it sure felt like it to us. Things seemed all together lovely. Everyone with sense, however, knows that trouble starts brewing when life gets that comfortable.

What I'm about to tell you is for the glory of God. I have never publicly revealed it until now. In fact, I've met strong disapproval from old-school church people for even mentioning it in private conversations. I've been forbidden to talk about it by those in leadership. Sometimes people can give too much detail about their personal lives, even to the extent of giving the devil too much credit. This isn't one of those times. I believe our testimony will give hope to everyone who reads this.

In the tenth year of our marriage things began to fall apart. When I say fall apart, I mean we were divorced in a matter of six months. We were normal Christian people that just couldn't pull it together. We had allowed the devil a space, and he took it from there. I'm not going to point fingers at anyone but him. He was the author of it all and will never be forgiven. I will spend the rest of my life making him pay.

I'm here to tell you that it can happen. We were textbook pillars of the church. I was preaching and she was singing in the choir. We had a beautiful family and great incomes, and then one day, it was all gone. I can tell you that we went through a very normal divorce: We hated each other just like all divorcing couples. I can tell you that this was the hardest thing I've ever gone through. I would spend many nights begging God to let me die. It was an unimaginable pain, and so dark that I couldn't see any hope. It was during this time that I became mad at God and bitter. I decided that being a Christian had gotten me nothing but heartache and pain, so I turned my back and ran away.

For the next year, my life was a train wreck. I left a Christian counselor one day and decided that I was done. I went to the store and walked to the alcohol isle. (Keep in mind that I had never drank or done anything like that in my whole life.) I picked out a bottle of vodka and went to a graveyard. I hadn't eaten in days, I was a mess. I took a sip and realized that this stuff tasted like gasoline. It was so awful that I drank half the bottle in one big gulp. When I began to feel my limbs going numb, I used my cell phone to call for help. I then passed out, and was found face down in gravel. It was the worst day of my life. I could have died. God didn't keep me alive that day so that I could keep this story to myself. He raised me up so that I could shine a light into the darkness of others.

A year went by after our divorce, and God worked a miracle. I don't know how He did it, but He did. He's God, and that's enough for me. If you let Him, it will be enough for you, too. I'm not going to act like it was a quick fix because there was a lot of hurt and anger that both of us had to deal with. Nonetheless, Angie and I had a small ceremony; it was just the three of us and the minister. I've never seen my little daughter so happy. The really cool thing is that God can and will do it. Believe me: If He can put our marriage back together, He can perform miracles for you.

The above was an excerpt from Two Stones Between Us: A Remedy for the Hurting Church.

William is a writer, preacher, teacher, and missionary. He has been involved in Christian ministry for the last eighteen years, including a stint in the country of Belize in Central America. A dedicated husband and father of one very special little girl, he and his family reside in Indiana.

A Noble Exchange: Eyes of a Thousand Stories

Sat, 13 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I stare at an image of a girl in Haiti. I strain to interpret her eyes.

The intensity of emotions seems foreign. I have not experienced such fierce fear or surveyed such destruction. As I wonder how long it will take for the glint of laughter to reappear to her hazel brushed eyes, I can't help but think of the eyes of another woman I recently met.

An African beauty named Jolly who experienced ineffable trauma as a youth. Now she has dedicated her life to encourage hope in the next generation.

I pause as I focus on the image of the nameless girl and I remember Jolly. How does that happen? How can a set of eyes look at a panorama of horror and not be blinded?

I claim no exhaustive answer, but only offer the story of Jolly. I only spent a morning with her while I was traveling through Africa filming a TV series called Noble Exchange, but that morning was filled with a thousand stories.

Jolly resides in a city called Gulu in northern Uganda. She serves as the Country Director for an organization called Invisible Children.

She's a gifted leader and one saucy soul: a woman of grace (an accomplished dancer and singer) and strength (fully capable of cutting off a chicken's head or opening a coke bottle with her teeth).

As a teenager Jolly was forced to be a rebel soldier for the Lord's Resistance Army. On her first day she had to learn to use an AK-47. While she avoided being on the front lines, she saw firsthand her tribe be terrorized and her city turn to chaos.

She told me that education, family and faith sharpened her gaze. And early on she made a conscious decision that she would be positive and let meaning emerge from her suffering.

During our time together Jolly was poised and passionate. However, she told me that for years she fought the nightmarish memories and very real doubts. At times her doubts made her question if she wanted to live and made her avoid looking into people's eyes.

Yet, as I spoke with her I knew I was directly looking into the eyes of a woman who experienced the wonder of learning and faith and dancing.

As my morning with Jolly vaporized a flash of desire came across my mind. I want to soak up all of her wisdom and strength. I don't want one bit to pass me by.

Then as quickly as it came another flash of realization followed. I can't gain the wisdom and strength Jolly's eyes have acquired by simply studying them.

Her eyes have squinted and strained through such hellish opaque visions. Frankly I don't want to have to endure so much to obtain such insight.

I guess no one really chooses to see the tragedies Jolly has--the child soldiers, the displaced families, the loss of life. Who plans to be awake in a nightmare?

The young girl in Haiti surely didn't sign-up to see her city razed, her country swallowed up by sadness.

I don't know what Jolly would say to this young girl. Perhaps she'd share what rescued her, what gave her hope. Maybe she'd say: "Fight to get your education, embrace faith, pursue your passions, help others along the way." Maybe.

Or... perhaps Jolly would sit alongside her and weep with her. And, through tears their eyes would share a thousand stories.

Tamara is a producer for a cable network called Halogen TV, which focuses on socially-conscious empowering entertainment. The Noble Exchange Africa series begins airing in April. Park also is the author of a spiritual/travel memoir called Sacred Encounters from Rome to Jerusalem.

Photo courtesy of Dana Demick.

Beautiful Letdowns: Redeeming Car Wrecks

Fri, 12 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I was the youth pastor at a San Diego church for a few years. One of the youth I had the privilege of encouraging was Andy Shirley, who would ask me questions about playing guitar and writing songs. He went off to college and changed his name (as many musicians do these days) to Andrew, then to Drew. Sean Combs changed his name to Puff Daddy and then to P. Diddy. I was glad Andy did not go with Drew Diddy, although I was kind of pulling for "Drew Wah Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Drew."

Drew is currently the lead guitarist for a band called Switchfoot.

The father of the two guys who formed the band is a pastor in San Diego.

Once at lunch, he asked another friend of mine to tell him about an experience that ended up being extremely disappointing or a huge letdown. Then he asked if any good came out of it or if God was able to use it in ways that were unexpected. After my friend explained how things had resolved in a wonderful way the father replied, "Ah, what a beautiful letdown!" That is the title of their fourth album.

Let me tell you about a time in my life when I was literally wrecked, and God turned it into a beautiful letdown. I was driving back from speaking and singing at a camp for inner-city kids from L.A. A car swerved in front of me and to avoid hitting it, I ran off the road and immediately into a tree at about 55 m.p.h. The car, which was a Cordia, quickly became an accordion. It took them nearly an hour to get me out of the car before I was life lighted in a helicopter to the emergency room. I had a concussion and a couple broken bones to show for my heroic act. I found out later that the paramedics on the scene predicted I had about 48 hours to live. I could have been paralyzed or missing limbs, but I was miraculously left in pretty good shape.

I especially knew God wanted me alive because of what happened two nights earlier at that camp. I was making a phone call around 11 p.m. in what looked to be a dead-end corridor. All the kids were in their tents for the night. I glanced up and saw a bear walking toward me down this dead-end corridor! He wasn't a grizzly but he was bigger than me. I figure he must have been a teenager bear (he had his Walkman on listening to Beyonc, er, I mean, Switchfoot).

I didn't think I would be scared if I ever saw a bear in public because the bears in the zoo always seemed friendly and I grew up watching Yogi the Bear. Me & Yogi were tight, but as my luck would have it, this bear did not know Yogi! I was desperately praying, "Please God, don't let this bear eat me!" Right at the last minute he turned away from me and started to walk down to where all the kids were, and I was glad! Well, not that he was going for the kids, but at that point it was every man for himself.

Now when you run into a tree at 55 m.p.h. and you have a bear come at you and you live, you have a strong assurance that God wants you alive. Then it dawned on me, "God wanted me alive before the accident as well, I just hadn't really thought about it much."

A few months after my wreck, I was sharing the story and how God not only had a reason for me to still be alive, but that God had a purpose for every person hearing my voice, even if their car had not been wrecked. A teenager who had planned to commit suicide that night talked to me afterward. He realized that God did have a purpose for his life, so instead of walking out the door to end his life, he walked into a life that will never end. God took my wrecked car and turned it into a beautiful letdown.

I think back to whatever little encouragement I could be to Andy-Andrew-Drew, and now see him playing guitar for millions. God is using this humble and genuine Christ-follower in mighty ways.

We may never know the impact we can have on someone, and many times I'm sure we never will this side of eternity. But I am convinced that when we do take the time to encourage others and help "the least of these," God will use those efforts to make an eternal difference . As Switchfoot sings, "We want more than this world has to offer."

This world and its promises will let us down. But God takes letdowns and car wrecks and makes them beautiful.

When was the last time that you had a letdown that God made beautiful?

Larry is a homiletical humorist/musician who has traveled full-time for over 20 years sharing God's awesome love. He formed the non-profit corporation Larry Bubb Ministries to help let this hurting world know there is hope in Jesus. You can find out more about this ministry & his most recent album of 18 songs called "The Best of Larry Bubb... Plus 17 Bonus Tracks" at his website.

Making the Bible Better?

Thu, 11 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I was thinking about the Bible and how to communicate it a bit more effectively. A few years ago they reissued different bits of the Bible and they invited famous authors to write introductions to each separate book. But I reckon that's not enough.

An introduction with someone's opinions and thoughts about a Biblical book are okay but that won't really help people understand what is in the book. It won't help them to experience the laughter, the shock, the pathos and humanity.

The whole thing needs to be retold and re-imagined - understood from the original - but then translated so that people in our time and culture can understand it.

Which happens in the Bible, anyway. Different characters come along and take what happened a hundred years a go or a thousand years ago and they retell it so that it makes sense again for the people listening to it in their day.

So I thought we should get some famous directors to make movies of the different books. It shouldn't cost much cause we'll get them to do it on the cheap.
So this is my hit list.

I reckon we should get George Lucas to make Genesis, the beginning of everything, long ago in an empty void far, far away and all that. Big screen stuff - creation, the flood, Noah, Abraham, Joseph, all these massive stories, get Lucas on that one.

Spielberg could then do Exodus which is the big Moses story, parting of the Red Sea, fighting Egyptians, the ten plagues, gnats, boils, death, blood. Happy stuff like that. Then Mount Sinai, God and people meeting for the first time - lightning, fire, thunder, bang bang bang - special FX all over the place.

Tarantino could do the book of Judges because it's all about sex and violence. It's a strange time of heroics and dark deeds. It's called Judges but really it should be called Governors, because the story is that God doesn't want the people to have a king, because we all know what leaders are like - they want power and palaces and status and kudos. So God organises these judges to rise up temporarily to rule the people at times of crises. Some of them are hitmen or hitwomen, some are just really wise, some are heroes and villains all rolled into one. Inglorious Barstools you might say. There are loads of action scenes, and these governors appear and disappear when the job's done. Uma Thurman could be Deborah and Brad Pitt could be Samson.

Scorsese could do the book of Samuel - the rise of King David - politics and power and religion - lots of near-catholic guilt kicking around. A bad father - a lousy husband - a mean musician and a man who should never have looked out of his window at bathtime.

Ridley Scott should do the book of Acts - supernatural happenings, people dropping dead, shipwrecks and snakebites, it's stuffed full of mystery and mayhem. Scott could bring some of his moody atmospherics to all that.

Tony Scott should do the book of Joshua. The book of Josh is all about the Israelites taking the land of Canaan - lots of battles and military stuff and a huge brass band, Hans Zimmer should do the soundtrack - Crimson Tide in the desert.

The gospels should be done by Danny Boyle - Mr Slumdog himself - he'd bring an honest earthy style to the story of Jesus and his friends and enemies. A sort of miracle-spotting with Jesus busting out of a shallow grave then melting away into the sunshine 28 days later. That kind o' thing.

Peter Jackson could do the Book of Revelation - Lord of the Rings all over again - only shorter.

Guy Ritchie should do the book of Kings - basically a book about loads of - kings. Again, lots of sex and violence, a lot of fighting and deposing going on - a sort of Lock, stock and too many smoking funeral pyres. But to make it more streetwise would be good, maybe set it in the seedy London underworld.

Joe Johnson did Atonement so he could do Ruth - another tale of loss and heartache.
Ang Lee could do the book of Esther - schemes and harems and Shakespearean comedy.

And Tim Burton should do the book of Job, with of course, Johnny Depp playing the lead role. Job's all about suffering - very long, way too long really, could have been done in 10 chapters. I think we need to get Tim Burton in there, get him to really draw out the angst and darkness in Job's life, and maybe just tell it in a cartoon kind of way.

So there we go - that's what I reckon we should do - get the Bible away from the churches and into the multiplexes.

Dave likes loud music, good comedy, great films and Tony Parson's novels. He finds the Bible hard to read so is dedicating much of his time to retelling it using all kinds of inappropriate things. That's not his natural hair colour.

Hook Up or Get Out: God's Prescription for Holiness

Mon, 8 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

"He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful" (John 15:2).

"Hook up or get out." That's what my brother always says to me. What he really meant is... don't mess around.

Isn't that the typical day-in-the life of a 20-something?

We're not sure of what we want or even who we are, so why the heck would it matter if I'm ____? Fill in the blank. Making out with strangers? Sleeping in someone else's bed? Taking prescription medication? Drugs? Consuming large amounts of alcohol? Anything to numb the void or the pain of life.

This is why it is so important to be cut off! Jesus feels the same way about us how we feel about our relationships. Hook up or get out. If a relationship isn't going well - get out already. Geez!

The boys I've dated have all been nicknamed thanks to my small group at church. Let's see there's Pinky, Twitter Boy 1 & 2 and... I'm trying to remember what other nicknames. I'm not one of those Christian girls who's kissed dating goodbye. Trust me, been there done that.

By the time I reached the age of 25, and my roommates were married and moved out already I wondered what's wrong with me? So I drank. Everyone around me knew how grossly I underestimated my potential pursuing mini-relationships that had nothing to do with Jesus and His holiness.

I am worth pursuing. And so are you. Jesus thinks so too. That's why he cuts us up into tiny little pieces so we will bear even more fruit.

Being in a pseudo-relationship might feel good in the moment because it's better than being alone, but as long as we're refusing to grow--the longer and harder Jesus continues to cut. Sometimes it's by our own choices and sometimes it's Jesus growing us deeper in Him and His holiness. Sometimes both!

Dear Jesus,

Sometimes we underestimate our potential. We settle for less than your best. We bear little to no fruit-that is until you get a hold of us. Don't let us hook up with the world, but get us out of our own selfishness to bear much fruit for you. Prune us. Shape us. Mold us. You are the Vine and we are the branches!

Amen.

Renee is a spirited speaker and writer to the 20-somethings and her first book releases in March of 2010. To listen to a former podcast she did on this subject, click here. You can also follow here blog.

Russ Lee of NewSong Gives Himself Away

Sat, 6 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Give yourself away.

Inspired, yet?

Give yourself away... now.

Motivated to do something? Anything?

Why is it difficult for Americans to be selfless? What is that wall that prevents us from sharing with others? Whether it's our possessions or ourselves, we need an earthquake to shake our apathy. Literally. Most times we understand how to throw money at people or problems. But only when we can afford it. What's the point of surrendering when it doesn't cost us anything?

Russ Lee of NewSong shared a portion of his infectious passion and heart. When we talked, he didn't focus on the album or the credentials or the concerts. He just focused on what is most important - the point of it all.

Growing up in a church town in southeast Tennessee, Russ was the oldest of four children. With his mother's mental disorder and his father's alcoholism, it seemed the family became survivors of the daily tragedies. There were times of great joy and there were heartbreaking moments that stopped the family in their tracks. At 15 he was doing things that people in their early twenties shouldn't be doing. By 17 Russ started selling drugs.

On a Thursday in October, he was playing music at the Rocky Top Lounge. Russ would play and they would pay him with an open bar tab. It was that night the Lord began to open his eyes to see more of what life offered. That night he gazed across the audience. There were older men living dead-end lives, messed up and abused. Russ saw his life ending the same if he continued the path he chose. Desperate and alone he came to God that night and he prayed.

"God I don't know You... but please find me," he pleaded.

That Saturday an old uninvited friend came over for a divine appointment. Though they had grown up with similar stories, this friend was a new Christian full of the thrill and hope of a new believer. From then on Russ wanted nothing less than everything the Lord had to offer. He quickly traded in his gig playing at the lounge for a "red satin moo moo" to join the choir. This former addict was now craving a new stimulant.

A few short months later after being "discovered" while singing at a Christmas program, Russ joined a traveling band. Russ later met his wife, Mary, on a business trip and joined NewSong in 1993.

In 2000 Russ left NewSong to pursue other ministry opportunities. He traveled with his family for six months visiting third world countries offering free concerts. God was changing his heart and his family's perspective on life. It was amazing and life changing for the whole family. They came back with a fulfilled exhaustion and motivation to continue serving.

After returning to the states with his family Russ came on staff with a church that February. Being a part of the community and ministry was refreshing. This strengthening community would become a major support for the Lee family.

In May of that year Russ' wife, Mary, was diagnosed with cancer. God's deliberate love was over Mary and Russ during this storm. Even as the clouds were rolling in, God prepared the family to have this church around them as they walked through Mary's illness.

The song, "God Hears", tells of the lessons and hope Russ gained during the time Mary was ill. He became fearlessly angry with the Lord. He told God he'd never speak to Him again if she died. Russ recalls God's response, "And I sensed God saying to me, I know you're mad, and that's okay, because you don't understand what I'm doing... I've already set this apart, and I'm going to use it for My glory. You need to trust in Me.'" Russ got to a point where he could fully trust the Lord in this situation. And as he puts it, "God used a series of miracles to get us through that."

Mary went through nine long months of treatment and has been cancer free for two years. This unexpected storm strengthened the Lee family more than they could have hoped for. God brought His shining glory and has allowed Mary to share her story to inspire and bring hope to others.

About a year ago Mary shared with Russ how she appreciated all that he had done for her while she was sick but now it's his time to do what he does. Through a mutual invitation Russ was quickly back playing with NewSong in February 2009.

Russ has new hope and trust in a God. His journey brought new depths to the heart and soul of the music. NewSong provides that same dedication and trust in the Lord throughout their album Give Yourself Away. Only God can define the motivation to "give yourself away". The music and lyrics of this album flow with inspiration to share the life of Jesus that is in all believers.

NewSong encourages people to not only risk but to dive into the risky business of relationships. You get more than you give when you give yourselves away. Russ learned this from his wife just by her example. She would also say to him that though he was on stage performing "if you don't love someone within reach you're just making noise."

So don't assume these guys are on stage for the show. Russ' life is a great example of obedient love in action. With passionate speed in his voice he shared with me, "Go do life! It's about loving God and loving people. This is how the Church can prove that it's the Church. Peoples lives are in shambles so why not just go across the street." With an overflowing heart of joy he told me briefly of a few of his neighbors. Russ just listens to their story.

This is a bunch of guys rescued in grace that have been given a platform to faithfully serve. They know that they are to hold whatever God gives them with open hands. Sometimes they're evangelists and sometimes they encourage the church. They live simply, yet fully: Music. Art. Truth.

After spending 17 of the last 28 months overseas, Caitlin is working hard trying to figure out the American lifestyle again. She likes Jesus, dreaming big, good conversations, miracles, meeting new people... and writing about it.

Shaping Jesus: A Reflection on Martin Luther King, Jr.

Thu, 4 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

With the celebration of the birthday of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., we see where Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. is used to bolster movements and causes that he did not specifically speak on. For example, in Raleigh-Durham, NC, a gay rights activist is torqued that a pastor who preaches a historical understanding of the bible's view on homosexuality will be speaking at a tribute to Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Regardless of what either person in question believes is right or wrong, both are imposing their beliefs onto Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., and for very different reasons.

Honestly, with what we have been told (the King family is very careful with their messaging in this regard), both views could be considered as being compatible with what Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. believed (again, as far as we, or at least I, know).

I see this argument every year, and while I do suspect that Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. would not view gay rights as compatible with Scripture, that really isn't the issue at hand. Let's go back in time to 2008.

Sen. Barack Obama was the Democrat Party's nominee for President of the United States. While I freely admit that I was, and am still, not a fan of his, his passion and charisma were undeniable. His speeches were also quite good. However, what was amazing (in that he did it as well as he did, but not that he did it, as all politicians do) was how two different political views saw a completely different person. What was even more amazing, was how supporters viewed him differently. While he was pushing for health care reform of some sort, I heard different supporters come away with different meanings of his statements and words. In other words, they put on him what they wanted to see.

It is the same, but more so, with Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.. Or, should I say Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.. Both Reverend and Doctor are correct, but for each person who reads this, Rev. and Dr. will probably provide different starting points, and it doesn't matter that his doctorate was theological.

Famous people, especially dead ones, are easy to put one's own beliefs onto. We will often look at them, and interpret everything they did or said through the lenses of our beliefs.

Christians (not all, but far too many) have done the same thing. We take our beliefs (communism, capitalism, race, nationality, culture) and shape Jesus. However, if we read the scriptures and the views of other Christian people (especially from other cultures or theologies), it has a tendency to shake our lenses a bit. Sometimes more than we like.

We like our Jesus just like we like our politicians and celebrities: safe for us, but not for them. Sometimes I've been guilty of that, too. However, with Jesus, at least, if is safe for everyone, then we can be sure that that's a false view of Him.

Ian is a husband and father of three. He is working in the manufacturing world, while working on his ordination. He lives in Northern Idaho.

Faith, Hope, and Love in the 21st Century: A Manifesto?

Wed, 3 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Let's face it: Christianity in the Western world is quickly changing. If you've had a conversation with an average person on the street about what she believes about God or religion, it shouldn't surprise you to hear that she probably doesn't have regard for those topics. More and more people don't know what they believe, or simply don't believe in much at all. Many Christians are even having crises of faith. The things our parents believed about politics, the world, and spirituality in many ways now seem rote, in dire need of being reinvented.

A variety of contributing factors can be credited for this changing cultural landscape: the end of the industrial age, the birth of free information, and technology that focuses on the life of the individual. One reason why so much social change seems to be happening is because people in the West are changing. We no longer blindly accept the propositional truths and traditions passed on to us by our predecessors. Many are questioning everything; they just can't seem to help it. Call it postmodernism or crazy teenage rebellion, but something about our culture is definitely changing.

And still, there is a group of us who think that this world can be redeemed, that God has a plan, and that the message of Jesus is somehow universally relevant, even to cynics like me. We believe that faith, hope, and love are still the greatest elements of the universe, and we want to see them, receive them, and share them.

Here's what I think that looks like in the 21st Century:

Faith as a conversation. You've probably heard this buzzword thrown around more than you have cared to hear. I know I have. Conversation. It's been overused by many progressive Christians (you may use or have heard the words "emergent" or "emerging") to the point that it now comes off as arrogant.

But what could be more beautiful than a conversation?

There's a story in the Christian Scriptures where Jesus reveals himself as the rightful king of Israel to a promiscuous woman at a well. How does he do it? With a church service? Big tent revival with flashing fanfare and confetti? Nope. With a conversation. There's something genuine, transcendent even, that is communicated in a conversation that can't be transferred any other way. Sharing one's faith through conversing is a must for the age in which we are now entering.

Hope as a tangible reality. We Americans abuse the word "hope." I hope I see you tomorrow. I hope to go to a movie tonight. I hope the Braves win the World Series this year. But "hope" means so much more than that, and as a friend of mine once said, "Everyone in the world needs hope." In this new age, Christ-followers need to begin expressing our hope in more tangible ways: an encouraging word to someone who's depressed, an act of generosity towards the impoverished, a grandiose gesture of dignity to someone struggling with self-worth.

This means that we need to do more than tell people about heaven. We must show it to them.

Love as an action. The same that was said about hope can be said for love. No three words in the English language have become quite as passe as "I love you." Yes, I've heard that before. But what does love look like?

Can I taste, smell, and even touch your love? More importantly, will it touch me?

Jesus showed love by dying for the ragamuffins. He loved before those whom he loved knew how to love him back. God so loved the world that he sent his only Son to die for it. The apostles loved Jesus so much that they rejoiced when they were beaten for him; they loved him back by giving their lives.

We need to relearn love -- messy, dirty love that costs us something. And when the world sees that kind of love, it will realize that something is missing. A ridiculous gesture of grace communicates so much more than a T-shirt or billboard that reads: "Love the sinner. Hate the sin."

I hope that this doesn't come off sounding pretentious or naive. I really do think that the world is changing, as are those of us inhabiting it. I believe in God and in his ability to redeem anything, but I think that it is essential for followers of Christ to grasp the reality of this shift and adapt to it. If faith, hope, and love are the essential elements of a meaningful Christian life, then we should consider what they mean to us and the world this day-in-age.

Above are just a few ways in which I think that faith, hope, and love need to be rehashed in the 21st Century. What about you?

Here are some other voices, participating in the conversation about faith, hope, and love (email us to be added to the list):

John Sylvest - I've Already Got Truth, Beauty, & Goodness! Why Bother with Faith, Hope & Love?

Matt Snyder - Faith, Hope, and Love: Expressed in Simplicity

Jesse Medina - Faith, Hope, and Love in the 21st Century

Kiel Spelts - Faith, Hope and Live in the 21st Century

Taylor Philips - These Three Remain

The Myth of Education (How to Really Change the World)

Tue, 2 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

The end justifies the means. Or does it?

As people of faith, whether we identify ourselves with Christianity, Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, even Atheism, this is a question we must continually wrestle with. It's easy to say the end justifies the means; it's easy to say the means justifies the end. It's hard to dig deep and humbly admit that maybe we really don't know. To believe is human; to doubt divine. (Peter Rollins)

It is with this mindset we must approach bureaucratic institutions of all shapes, sizes, colors, and forms. Again, it's easy to fire off mindless criticisms that emotionally attack the dignity of corporations and organizations. Similarly, it's easy to defend institutions by evaluating their teleological elements. Only the truly courageous willingly venture into the realm of social agnosticism, freely confessing that they see life in a diverse array of colors, while the rest of us ignorantly look on with black and white lenses.

Envision a political protest (pick your poison, whether it's abortion, homosexuality, foreign policy-they're all similar) with two warring sides in fierce opposition to each other. They form picket lines featuring offensive signage attacking the integrity of the other perspective. Angry shouts emerge from both camps criticizing the views of their political enemies. One begins to wonder whether they are against their opponents' policies or the opponents themselves. As is normal protocol, a narrow space of neutral ground is honored that separates the warring factions. Perhaps it prevents physical violence from breaking out.

Perhaps it is God's way of telling us that there is a third way. Maybe Jesus wasn't talking about material wealth when he spoke of the "narrow road" in the Gospels. Jewish culture prized philosophers and thinkers who could speak one message with multiple layers of meaning. This is why Jesus communicated in parables.

Life is about connecting the dots.

Imagine the following (cruel) experiment: Ten infants are selected. Five are labeled group "A," and the remaining five comprise group "B." Group "A" is raised in house "A," while group "B" experiences life in house "B." Both communities are raised by the same parents, who equally divide their time between the two houses.

Here's the fun part. Group "A" is positively encouraged to explore all of life's possibilities-speaking, crawling, walking-all of the things that fuel the holistic growth of infants. Group "B" is also encouraged to fulfill their natural curiosity, but they are punished with electric shocks whenever they do anything beyond what is necessary for immediate survival. The infants in group "B" live in a paradoxical world-they are encouraged to question and explore, but punished when they accept the challenge to do so.

It's common for the scenario imagined in this experiment to manifest itself in everyday life. The easiest way to control someone is by creating an unconscious dependency. Seligman's experiments on dogs in the late 1960's proves this theory with disturbing accuracy. When we become dependent on someone for our emotional, financial, or spiritual well-being, we gradually lose our freedom, moment by moment. Learned helplessness slowly creeps into our psyche until we are completely unaware of the liberty we have blindly forfeited.

Eventually, we just accept the way things are as the way things are. We accept how life is because that's how life is. This realization becomes especially dangerous when the complete censorship and control of ideas is assumed by someone we trust. America's defenders are sworn to protect her from "all enemies, foreign and domestic" for a reason.

Our gravest enemies are always those we willingly allow to lead us. When we give them total control, we forfeit the ability to control our own destiny. Who is the fool -- he who runs in the wrong direction, or he who follows?

One of the first rights guaranteed to US citizens is the privilege to bear arms. It is then no surprise that Hitler's first act as the elected leader of Germany was to ban all private weapons. The willingness to rise above oppression is a sacred human experience. Unfortunately, it is rather difficult to rise above oppression when one isn't even aware of its presence.

Vocational spiritual leaders have provided guidance, support, and moral instruction for thousands of years. Humanity has no doubt benefited from the idea of specific individuals specializing in matters of spiritual direction and leadership. It's important not to polarize the issue with black and white generalizations.

It's even more important to rise above our ignorance.

Society as a whole rejects those who are dissatisfied with their experiences. Social dissent is an activity commonly labeled as "childish and ungrateful." After one is labeled as such, punishment is inevitable. Ask Socrates, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Nathan Hale-the list goes on. Preserving the status quo is profitable business. Exploring alternatives is dangerous business.

It's time to start questioning the leadership structures of religious institutions. Who decided that one man or woman should possess the final say on all matters? Who decided we should pay them a yearly salary to do so? Who decided spiritual leadership was a full time vocation?

If full-time ministry exists, that relegates the "rest of us" to part-time ministry. As far as Christianity is concerned, this idea is an oxymoron at best, theological heresy at worst.

Questions are at the root of all insurrections, rebellions, and revolutions. Those brave enough to venture into the "no man's land" between the trenches rarely make it out alive. Structures rely on dependency-fueled obedience. Innovation depends on questioning.

It's time to start questioning the ecclesiastical monopoly of pastoral ministry. It's time to embrace heresy as a necessary component to orthodoxy. It's time to explore the unknown. It's time to overcome learned helplessness. It's time to recover the "priesthood of all believers."

Fires are essential to the long term vitality of a forest. Progression depends on destruction.

Well-behaved people have rarely ever changed history.

Grab the torches.

Tim is a writer hoping that somehow, someway, his work will influence the world in a positive way. He is currently an undergraduate student at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan

CREATE: An Intentional Christian Community

Tue, 2 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

The "American Dream" can keep us from seeing other people's needs. Parental expectations keep us from seeing God's plan for our lives. Entertainment can suck up time that could be better spent. All this stuff drowns out the cries of people all around us. But seeing the struggles of the people living in disadvantaged neighborhoods, seeing their tears, becoming their friend. The things that usually define our lives don't seem to matter; because we discover something better. Something real -- love.

Three years ago, I got a work study job working with inner city kids through my college. I started it so it would look good on my resume and help me get a good paying teaching job after I finished school. On the first day, I rode the bus just twenty minutes, and I was met by a classroom of smiling four-year-olds. The majority of them came over the me and rubbed my skin and held their arms up to mine. It took me a few seconds to realize, but they were so fascinated with me because they had never seen a white person before.

Every day, I would be met by children who would come to school hungry and in the same clothes as the day before. I learned that many of the parents of these precious children were still in high school. Many of the kids did not know their fathers. Some of them got sick and could not afford to go to the doctor. Some of the parents could not read. At the same time back in school, I was learning that the number one predictor of high school success is how many books are read to kids when they are young.

My heart began to break for these children. My parents told me about how dangerous traveling into the neighborhood was, how there were news stories all the time about shootings and drug busts. This was scary to me. Not because I was afraid for myself on the bus ride over, but because this is the environment that every single child in my class was living in. Most of the kids had never left this tiny section of the city. When I heard about a tragedy on the news, I also would hear is from the mouth of three and four-year-olds. They would tell me about the gun shots they heard the night before and one even told me about their uncle's was murder.

Some teachers thought that the time commitment was too great. That I was spending too much time there, therefore not leaving enough time for my studies. But to be honest, the importance of my schoolwork paled in comparison to what these kids were living through. I was studying to learn how to work with kids, and instead of just reading about it in a text book, I was able to do it.

This one year of working at this preschool opened my eyes up to the pains and the struggles of inner city families. It rerouted my life. It took away my plans of becoming a teacher and moving into the woods somewhere. After seeing what I saw, I became curious. After some research of my own, I found out the Boston is a divided and messed up place. There are white neighborhoods made up of educated well to do folks. Then, their are black neighborhoods, where less than half the kids graduate high school, and less than ten percent will enroll in college. Strange when you think about it, seeing as over three hundred thousand people move to this very city to attend college.

Boston's colleges and universities have a major impact on the city and region's economy, with students contributing over four billion dollars annually to the city's economy. These facts prompted a series of questions. What if when students came, they did not just boost the economy? What is they loved their neighbors? What if they had the opportunity to show the residents of Boston who Jesus is by modeling His teachings? What if college students had the opportunity to team with people, young and old, and work together to see lives and communities transformed. They could be a part of something bigger. They could transform lives; the lives of local residents, as well as their own.

This is where the vision for C.R.E.A.T.E. was born. I was concerned that while I was paying well over thirty grand a year for college, there were people in my neighborhood hungry, cold, homeless, neglected, and abused. There were people who did not have the resources to succeed. After some prayer, seeking advice from people much wiser and older than I, and some serious Bible reading, I realized that the only way that things in Boston could ever change for the better is if a bridge would be built between communities of Boston that have been historically separated. If the privileged and educated used their gifts and skills to serve the underprivileged and the marginalized. If they moved into these neighborhoods, to stay and to integrate themselves into the daily grind. Rather than pushing out the locals, they go, they stay, and they love.

The plan is to buy a house in Mattapan, a 2.8 square mile section in southern Boston. In fact, we have already fallen in love with a house. The house is beautiful, and it is located across the street from one of the largest housing developments in Boston. We are going to buy this house, fix it up (it has been empty for well over five years now), and love the way that Jesus has loved us.

We will be serving our neighbors through practical means, like GED tutoring, financial planning courses, free child care, and some other services that leaders in the neighborhood told us would be helpful. But more than that, we want to form relationships. We want to invite our neighbors over for dinner, we want to learn about them, we want to learn from them, and hopefully in the process, we can share the love of Christ with them.

We invite you -- to give up a few years, or heck, your whole life, to living simply in this intentional community so that together we can love with no limits. We have a vision of growth. Of something bigger than ourselves, of emerging leaders, of equipping more people to go out and do the same thing in other neighborhoods of Boston, New England, America, and the world.

For more details on how you can get involved, please you can email CREATEboston@gmail.com.

Renee is part of a team that is starting up a new intentional community in Mattapan, Massachusetts, a neighborhood on Boston's southern edge. In Mattapan, over a fourth of the population is living below the poverty line, and less than 10% of high school grads will attend college, despite the fact they live five minutes away from hundred of prestigious colleges and universities.

Worship without Walls

Tue, 2 Feb 2010 00:00:00 GMT

In October I was living out my dream. I had taken my first trip to Africa and was living with 20 other missionaries in a village in central Ghana. We were planting a church. One night after we had hosted a party for the local children at our house, myself and one of the guys from the team got the task of walking the children back along the road which connected the village to the main road, dropping them off at their homes as we passed.

It was well past dark, but the sky was clear and revealed an orchestra of stars. The dirt road was windy and pot-hole ridden, with the occasional puddle. And marching along was an odd medley of a Nigerian, a Canadian and 38 Ghanaian school children. The children were clamoring to hold our hands. So we each had one, if not two children on either side.

As we wandered along someone suggested we sing. I started them on the songs I had taught them in Sunday school, but it was not long until they wanted to sing the song "Hosanna" by Hillsong. Our team had sung the song at a school ministration earlier in the week and had since heard the melody echoed by the school-aged children throughout the village.

Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna in the highest.

We lifted our voices together to sing as we walked along this dark, dirt road, surrounded by fields and the dark impressions of houses without electricity. I'm sure the stars must have been shining bright with their agreement as we sang, but my eyes were fixed on the scene around me.

A few of the boys took off in front of us and started turning cartwheels.

It was worship. Right there, on the road, outside the walls of any church. Outside the conventions we place around worship. Just outside. We worshipped the living God. And it was beautiful.

We had no worship leader. We were neither told when to start nor when to finish. We did not have to worry about taking up too much space with our movements, nor lifting our voices too high. We turned cartwheels. We held hands. We laughed. We skipped. We ran. Limitless worship.

So often we, the Church, set boundaries and place limits around worship. Singing, check. Clapping, check. Lifting hands, check. Dancing, in moderation. Falling facedown, only at an alter call. Turning cartwheels ... We restrict worship to make it 'acceptable'. As though it were something dangerous. As though it needs a cage. Are we afraid of what will happen if we let worship loose?

What would happen if we let worship out? If we stripped off the limits we have clothed it in? If we ripped down our walls built to hold it back and pulled apart the bars that cage it? I think we would discover that worship is absolutely dangerous. Beautifully dangerous.

Because it is dangerous to lose ourselves in the pursuit of something else.

Dangerous to lift the name of the Lord.
Dangerous to lay everything down.
Dangerous to confess that there is one who is far above us in power and might.
Dangerous to admit his sovereignty.
Because it is dangerous to love.

It is dangerous, because it just might change your life. It just might change your church. It just might change our communities and our cities and our nations. When we restrict our worship, we restrict the effects of our worship and belittle the God of our worship.

Worship can cause a revolution. When we lose ourselves in expressions of love for God, who knows what could spring forth. Perhaps as we learn to express our love towards God and practice that freedom; as we step outside of the boundaries that we as a church have placed around ourselves; we will discover something. I believe we will be more able to reach into the world and step over walls, over society's rules about how we love our neighbour. I think the outflow of love will become natural for us.

Can we let worship free and watch this expression of love? Can we let ourselves overflow?

I believe worship is dangerous. Beautifully dangerous.

Claire is somewhere between being a student and not being a student. She just finished five months in Ghana and is now in Edinburgh, trying to set up life again. She wants to live out God's calling for her life and is excited to see exactly what that means.

Lottie Moons or Ex-Pimps: We're All Missionaries

Fri, 29 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I'll never forget the story a friend of mine told me. His wife, who is from a foreign country, was playing a game of Pictionary with him and his family. She came across the word "missionary." Giggling, but slightly confused, she proceeded to draw a rather embarrassing image of explicit stick figures. The word in her culture referred to nothing else but the most common position... in bed.

Obviously, it's an awkward story and an extreme example. Most people in America know what a missionary is. Many may think of people speaking about Africa at their church, asking for money. For others, the kid who was home schooled in a jungle and have a hard time fitting back into society, may come to mind. I've had some several different stereotypes over the years, regarding this breed of Jesus-followers, and now, I suppose, I am one.

When I left the small New England town, I grew up in to come to Texas after high school and join the ranks of "full-time" ministry, several of the less "Christianized" of my friends assumed I was becoming a nun. I laughed in their faces. More recently, as I have tried to explain to people what I do, I've received odd blanks stares, smiles and nods, or the nickname "Lottie Moon."

Wendell Berry said, "The world is babbled to pieces after the divorce of things from their names." I wonder sometimes if the words we use in our culture as Christians to try to better define us instead stifle us.

"Missionary," in referring to Christians who tell people about Jesus, is never in the Bible. In fact, it has only been around for the past 400 years or so. It began with the Jesuits, used for the members they sent abroad. I am not who is full of scrupulosity when it come to word usage. I am not crying heretic because the word is not in the bible, it's not about that. It's more about the way we use the title. The way I have been using it. I am not asking anyone to change their vocabulary, really, just to remember who they are. If you are a child of God, so you won't be able to help but reflect His nature. We have been given the best news in the history, so it's our privilege to share with our backyard and the world.

I have been in Youth With A Mission for about three years now, and still have a hard time embracing the title. "Oh... I am a full time... errrr... Ummm,..(mumbles under my breath) Missionary." Awkward? Slightly. It feels like what I am alluding to is something like this: "I am a professional at telling people about Jesus. And you're not, cause you work a 9-5. Only, I shouldn't say professional, because I am on (cringe) support. Wanna give me money?"

Like somehow, my "calling" is super-spiritual and important. Yuck. We all know there is an unnecessary segregation between the "secular workplace" and those who are in "full time ministry." It seems like on a bus filled with ministers on the road to the great commission, the businessmen would be forced to sit in the back. Maybe we need some more Rosa Park's in the church. There is no separation between our "normal" life and our life as ministers of the gospel. If we have been wrecked by the love of Jesus, we talk about Him. It is that simple. Regardless of where we are working or what we are doing, we are "in ministry." I know this sounds cliche, but I am going to keep saying it until I begin to believe it. I used to think unless I had an official position in a official Christian "organization" I wasn't in God's plan. I thought that if I wasn't running around on some crazy overseas adventure, I was coping out of the great commission. Thankfully, the fierce love of God punches holes in my cardboard boxed ideas.

Last year, I met a woman in Virginia who had been through more hell then I even thought was possible, and survived. I met her in a Teen Challenge center where she greeted me with sparkling eyes and a broad smile, and for some reason felt compelled to tell me her story. She shared how incredible sexual and physical abuse as a child had led her to the streets, and at an early age, she began selling her body for money and drugs. She got to the point where she became a woman pimp, coaxing desperate girls into her lifestyle. She reached the very bottom of her pain, after her baby girl was raped by her boyfriend and she retaliated by stabbing him. Something drove her to run to the nearest church and knock on the door of the parsonage. Now, she was in a recovery program, and her life was one of beauty and hope. Her eyes shone as mine filled with tears. "Now, I think I am ready to share my story."

Missions is simply the willingness to open your mouth and admit, "I once was lost, but now I am found."

When you are really in love with someone, you can't help but want to introduce him to the world. "He's incredible," you will sigh to your best friend on the phone, "I just wish you could meet him." There is a joy in introducing people that you care about to each other. It is the most natural thing ever. You don't do it out fear or obligation. It just is.

I used to think missions meant convincing someone to believe in Jesus and get them to say a prayer. There is obviously all kinds of fear and pressure attached to that idea, because you are trying to get someone to step over the line onto "your side." If they don't make that step, you end up feeling like a failure. The beauty of the gospel is that it is indeed good news- news of something that has already happened. We get to be the ones who announce it. Imagine being a newsboy who got to deliver he paper the day World War II ended. We too are the delivery people- and we have the best news in the world. The war has been won. It doesn't matter so much how the message is delivered.

As the body of Christ we can find freedom throwing our misconceptions of being a "missionary" out the "10-40" widow. We don't need to have all the right training, degrees, answers, words or track records. With our dirty faces, and skinned knees, we can announce with joy that everything the world has been waiting for has already arrived. As a star struck lover we can introduce the one who completes us. As one who is still buried knee deep in the crud of our past, hardly off the streets, we can crack and weak smile and say "I once was lost and now I am found, was blind but now I see."

Brooke is a missionary....errrr.... I mean, lover of Jesus...or something.... in YWAM. She loves to see the world, make up new recipes, and attempt to be a poet. Check out her blog.

How to Pursue Justice without Losing Your Soul

Wed, 27 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

In the do-gooder flick Pay It Forward, Trevor McKenney asks his teacher after receiving an unusual homework assignment, "Are you saying you'll flunk us if we don't change the world?" To which Eugene responds, "Well, no. But you might just scrape by with a C."

Many of us have been "scraping by with a C" for awhile now. Recently, there's been a surge of activity in the western hemisphere to connect people of faith with meaningful and intentional action in regard to issues of poverty and injustice. The fact that millions of people are no longer content with scraping by with a "C" is beautiful thing, but we need to be careful. In a world full of despair and great need, it's easy to lose yourself in the pursuit of justice. No one ever seems to talk much about this - how justice can consume you, keep you up at night, become an obsession, and even distract you from God.

I'm not trying to be a contrarian to the current social justice fad, but we ought to take initial caution at our noble campaigns to right social wrongs. If we're not careful, our best attempts to save the world could cost us our souls.

Upfront, let me say that this is hard. The needs are so abundant that it almost seems selfish to consider our own spiritual health when seeking justice. For instance, consider the following facts:

16,000 children die from hunger every day (Bread.org). That's one child every five seconds, and I just threw away some leftover rice last night, because I didn't feel like keeping it in my fridge.

The price of two cappuccinos at Starbucks can provide clean water for seven Africans for an entire year (Mochaclub.org). I drink way more coffee than that per week, and I can't remember the last time I didn't let the shower run excessively.

More than a billion people live on less than a dollar a day (One.org). That's roughly the amount I spent on a candy bar from the checkout lane while grocery shopping... merely because I was bored.

More than 27 million people are in slavery today (NotforSaleCampaign.org), which is far more than any other single moment in history. Frankly, most of the time, I would rather watch Amistad or Amazing Grace on Netflix than face this reality.

Many of us who have heard statistics similar to those above have felt incredibly guilty (I know I have), which isn't entirely bad. However, the same numbers that stir our slumbering hearts out of complacency can be the very ones that trap us in the bondage of compulsion and obligatory service.

In the missionary classic So Send I You, Oswald Chambers aptly described this dilemma and the solution to it: "In work for God it is not sufficient to be awake to the need, to be in earnest, to want to do something; it is necessary to prove from every standpoint, moral, intellectual, and spiritual, that the only way to live is in personal relationship to God." Essentially, the need is not the call; the call is the call. But these days, the needs are so pervasive that it's hard not to feel called to something.

Thanks to an endless supply of knowledge, a great advantage this current generation of twenty-somethings has over over its predecessors is a global worldview. Unfortunately, this has been sadly squandered. It's not uncommon to see a Macbook-toting Millenial wearing a wristband of the latest justice trend without really doing anything about it. I have a friend who refers to this as "slacktivism." But awareness doesn't equate to action, and it certainly doesn't mean calling.

Even those who are daring enough to respond to the need are in danger of doing so for the wrong reasons.

Take my friend Madison, for example (not her real name - but if you're going to make up a name, you might as well make it a good one). Like a lot of her peers, Madison read Shane Claiborne's book The Irresistible Revolution and felt compelled to help the poor. She signed up to volunteer at every shelter, soup kitchen, and social service she could get her hands on. It was incredible the level of commitment to which she pledged herself. Every evening and Saturday afternoon - even Sundays after church - were dedicated to helping the less-fortunate. She absolutely loved the opportunity to learn from seasoned counselors and social workers, as well as the mysterious experience of finding Christ amongst the "least of these."

For years, Madison befriended prostitutes, visited widows, and delivered groceries to the handicapped. She invited the poor into her home and into her life. She read every book, watched every movie, and adopted every discipline she could - all focusing on how to love mercy and act justly towards the destitute and desolate. However, she began to realize that some of the problems she was battling - prostitution, drug addiction, homelessness - were big, complicated issues that required holistic solutions. She began to realize that some of these people needed more than a warm bed or a nice conversation over coffee, and she didn't know how to give it to them.

So she did what most of us would do - she tried harder. She redoubled her efforts and focused on fewer projects so that she could concentrate on the impact of her work. She read and studied more so that she can handle any issue that came her way. But she still ended up feeling stressed and burned out. On top of that, her marriage was really starting to suffer.

She eventually stepped down from most of her weekly volunteer commitments and started concentrating on small things - serving at church, befriending neighbors, and loving her husband. It was a huge sacrifice and paradigm shift for her. It was hard to do, but she needed to do it - to be healthy, to not rob those people of their dignity by finding some personal affirmation in serving them.

Months later, Madison and I got together for coffee. She said that she was finally investing all of her extra energy into making her marriage work - reading books and asking people's advice on how to love and respect her husband better. Now, she was spending nights and weekends with him. It was nothing monumental in terms of what they did, but it was nonetheless quality time. She had learned how much of herself she could invest into something that she was passionate about and was now applying that lesson to immediate relationships she had neglected. "It's so good," she told me. And I believed her. She still has a heart for the poor, and I believe that God will re-open those doors to serve when the time is right.

Most social justice junkies will admit that not being able to serve is like quitting smoking cold-turkey. "I can't just do nothing," you might say with a twitch in your eye. Yet, that seems to be exactly what God may call us to do - to be still and know that he is still Lord amidst a world that is falling apart.

When we first discover the world's needs, we can become consumed with the task of making it all right. In a way, it's a good thing. We put our passion to work, every spare minute doing whatever we can to help "the cause." However, exhausting ourselves in any kind of service without proper rest can not only result in burnout, but also a lack of worship. It becomes hard to pray. We start to resent God for not doing more. We work harder to fill the gaps, neglecting our family, health, and spiritual life in the process. I know this, because I've been there. 

Being involved in every social justice program or cause you can get your hands on may sound like the right idea when God first opens your eyes to the needs of the poor, but that kind of passion and dedication is hard to sustain. Moreover, it's potentially hazardous to your physical, emotional, and spiritual health. Lastly, it's not realistic. Trying to be effective in everything usually means not being effective in anything, especially with justice work.

What do you do? Here are some practical tips for how to pursue justice while keeping your soul:

Keep first things first. Stay rooted in spiritual disciplines and practices. Couple action with contemplation. Read a little Thomas Merton or Richard Rohr.
Stay in community. That means church, marriage, Bible studies, Bingo clubs, etc. Surround yourself with people who will encourage and challenge you wherever you need it.
Take a break. Spend a Sunday (or Saturday or Tuesday) in the park, spending time with God and allowing your body to rest. You know, honor the Sabbath, and all that jazz.
Involve others. Don't be the social justice "Lone Ranger." This is actually pretty common - falling in love with a cause and then estranging yourself from others who "just don't understand." A love for the poor (especially in an affluent area) may mean alienating yourselves from your peers - either through your volition or theirs. Some of that may be inevitable, but community is vital to this kind of work. Try to invite someone into what you're doing without making them feel judged. It'll make a big difference - for you and for them.

What about you? How has pursuing social justice cost you your soul?

Prayer: Poetry of the Heart

Mon, 25 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Someone once said, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." Gehenna (the Aramaic word used in the New Testament used for "hell") was this trash heap outside of Jerusalem where dead bodies were tossed amongst all of the trash. Emanating from the depths of this place were atrocious smells and maybe even half-hearted screams of those who might be hanging on to all of their broken limbs if the fire didn't get to them first. Hell was rhetoric for a way of life. And if you turn on your television or walk down the street, you might agree with me that the man living in his cardboard hotel is living in hell.

And we can do something about it.

Some might think the best way to help this man is to pray for him, others might add they they want to pray and see if God wants them to do something. All the while, the rivers of rainwater that have flooded this man's home, keeps him moving on and keeps him homeless while you wait for God to get back to you.

Waiting on "God's will" to happen sounds like a good idea. For God to answer your prayers about whether or not to help someone in need though, doesn't do much for the person in need. Let's say you have a strong desire to venture off and work alongside some indigenous people groups in Africa, and you find out one of their greatest needs is food. But you want to make sure it's what God wants you to do.

While you are sitting, waiting, and wishing, your prayers don't do much for the bloated baby waiting for a meal, literally hanging on for dear life. Or let's say you want to do work within the people trafficking sector of world development. While you wait to either hear a word or get a verse, teenage girls are growing up way too fast, some of them might even die of a four-letter disease without even seeing the age of eighteen. And all of this because we have been taught that prayer means waiting on God.

Don't get me wrong, I think prayer is important. I think it is their for us to connect with our Creator. With the divine. I am not so sure it was given to us to find answers though. How did we inherit this idea that prayer is the magic ticket to God? Or somehow if we end our talks with 'Amen' or 'In the name of Jesus', somehow miraculously Jesus will rend the heavens and come down? The ancient Jews had this idea that prayer was communion with God. Union with the divine. The mystics borrowed some of this thinking and even tried to connect with God while they were still alive. It was as if, to them, God could be reached and prayer was the way to do it. I think, if we're honest, the art of talking with God like the ancients did, has been far removed from what it was meant to be. Prayer was about connection, not about getting something. It was about relationship, not forced mechanistic approaches to twisting God's arm. Some of these Jews believed prayer was more spontaneous. It just happened. And it was naturally a reaction to the realization that you and I are alive. It was poetry of the heart.

One of the most famous of all Jewish prayers is the Shema Prayer, it is taken from Deuteronomy 6:4: "Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength." The Hebrew word for "hear" is the same word for "listen", but we might think of someone who is attentively sitting in the first row of English class, but the word is much richer and deeper than that. The underlying word for hear is an action; it is to do something.

When King David asks the question to God, "How long, Lord?", the word "wait" draws the picture of someone who knows something is going to happen and yet is running around preparing for the arrival of that which is to come. Wouldn't it be the worst thing if somehow consumerism has crept in to the halls of our churches and has made prayer into something about us getting what we think we should of it? I wonder if when we're waiting for answers from God, if he is waiting for us to be the answer.

This isn't humanism. This is learning rhythms of life where we get to partner with the divine in making the world a better place. Praying about it, in the old sense of the word, point blank, does nothing. If we can recapture what prayer was meant to be, maybe we can help those in need. Maybe we can make the impossible possible. Who knows, maybe if we learn to be the answer to our prayers, we can make a considerable dent in world hunger, or world debt, or world poverty to name a few of the big ones. But, I think it has to start with us realizing that half of the time we're waiting, God is waiting on us.