Last night at family night, Ana Engelsman and her friends was playing around the baptismal font in the sanctuary, waiting for her mom to finish up rehersal. Her mom, seizing the teachable moment, said, "Do you know what that's for, Ana?"
"Yes," said Ana, "That's where the babies are adopted."
Exactly.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Mind Your Own Business (or not)
This past weekend, Jill and I were privelaged to host our friends, Brian and Becky, for a few days. Brian and I have go way back--we've started going to school together in fifth grade and continued all the way through seminary (that's 16 years, by my count). So you could say that we know each other pretty well.
Well, we had a delightful weekend together. We went for hikes in the mountains, ate Duffy Rolls, played "Ticket to Ride" and watched movies ("The Cinderella Story" was the ladies' suggestion. Seriously.) But one of the best moments (for me, at least) was not one that I had planned. Or even one that I had expected.
Brian and I were driving down Broadway, on the way to drop my dog off at the pet-sitter for a few days (thanks Joe and Ann!). We were chit-chatting about traffic, dogs, bikes, ministry--the normal things for us--when Brian paused and said, "So, how's your marraige going?" And then he waited for me to give an honest answer.
And for me, that was the moment. The highlight of my weekend. It was even better than my Irish Cream Duffy Roll.
It probably sounds hard to believe (especially if you've ever had Duffy Rolls), but it's true. That was a powerful moment for me because it showed me the value of our friendship. It showed me that our friendship went beyond Brian's willingness to fly out to Denver so we could hang out of the weekend, beyond his willingness to go out for a beer and watch the Nuggets lose (talk about a lucky shot!), beyond our ability to sit around and swap stories about the good old days in Mr. Vander Maatan's Fifth Grade Class. It showed me that our friendship was deep enough for Brian to take an interest in my marraige; for him to take a risk and ask a potentially uncomfortable question. It showed me that he cared about the things that really matter.
Just think about it: when is the last time you've been asked such a question? When is the last time you have asked such a question? If you're like me, it's been a while.
And that's why I'm so thankful for friends like Brian--and for moments like that one we had on Broadway. Because Brian realized that it was not only his right to ask me those kinds of questions, but his obligation. It was his obligation because Brian and I aren't just friends. We're brothers in Christ. And brothers (and sisters) care about each other enough to ask each other questions. Even hard questions.
My hope is that we at First Church will continue to develop as a community so that we can ask each other these sorts of hard questions. I pray that we will be people who recognize that our business is in fact our neighbor's business--that we won't privitize our faith and assume that all we do is just a matter between us and God, but it's also a matter between us and our brothers and sisters in Christ. I hope that we're people who are humble enough, honest enough, and (dare I say) holy enough to ask--and be asked--tough questions. These questions may be about our marraige, the choices we make in raising our kids, the people we want to date, the things we say about our neighbors, our church attendance, the amount of money we put in the offering plate, or anything else in the Christian life.* The point is that being in community--being a member of the Body of Christ--means caring enough about each other to speak honestly (with grace AND truth) to each other about these very important things.
So, let's hear it. Are we already that kind of community? If not, what's stopping us? What do we have to let go of--or gain--to become that kind of place?
*For more on this as it realates to our sexuality, see Chapter 3 of Lauren Winner's excellent book, Real Sex, entitled "Communal Sex".
Well, we had a delightful weekend together. We went for hikes in the mountains, ate Duffy Rolls, played "Ticket to Ride" and watched movies ("The Cinderella Story" was the ladies' suggestion. Seriously.) But one of the best moments (for me, at least) was not one that I had planned. Or even one that I had expected.Brian and I were driving down Broadway, on the way to drop my dog off at the pet-sitter for a few days (thanks Joe and Ann!). We were chit-chatting about traffic, dogs, bikes, ministry--the normal things for us--when Brian paused and said, "So, how's your marraige going?" And then he waited for me to give an honest answer.
And for me, that was the moment. The highlight of my weekend. It was even better than my Irish Cream Duffy Roll.
It probably sounds hard to believe (especially if you've ever had Duffy Rolls), but it's true. That was a powerful moment for me because it showed me the value of our friendship. It showed me that our friendship went beyond Brian's willingness to fly out to Denver so we could hang out of the weekend, beyond his willingness to go out for a beer and watch the Nuggets lose (talk about a lucky shot!), beyond our ability to sit around and swap stories about the good old days in Mr. Vander Maatan's Fifth Grade Class. It showed me that our friendship was deep enough for Brian to take an interest in my marraige; for him to take a risk and ask a potentially uncomfortable question. It showed me that he cared about the things that really matter.
Just think about it: when is the last time you've been asked such a question? When is the last time you have asked such a question? If you're like me, it's been a while.
And that's why I'm so thankful for friends like Brian--and for moments like that one we had on Broadway. Because Brian realized that it was not only his right to ask me those kinds of questions, but his obligation. It was his obligation because Brian and I aren't just friends. We're brothers in Christ. And brothers (and sisters) care about each other enough to ask each other questions. Even hard questions.
My hope is that we at First Church will continue to develop as a community so that we can ask each other these sorts of hard questions. I pray that we will be people who recognize that our business is in fact our neighbor's business--that we won't privitize our faith and assume that all we do is just a matter between us and God, but it's also a matter between us and our brothers and sisters in Christ. I hope that we're people who are humble enough, honest enough, and (dare I say) holy enough to ask--and be asked--tough questions. These questions may be about our marraige, the choices we make in raising our kids, the people we want to date, the things we say about our neighbors, our church attendance, the amount of money we put in the offering plate, or anything else in the Christian life.* The point is that being in community--being a member of the Body of Christ--means caring enough about each other to speak honestly (with grace AND truth) to each other about these very important things.
So, let's hear it. Are we already that kind of community? If not, what's stopping us? What do we have to let go of--or gain--to become that kind of place?
*For more on this as it realates to our sexuality, see Chapter 3 of Lauren Winner's excellent book, Real Sex, entitled "Communal Sex".
Friday, March 23, 2007
Confessions of the Ignorant
If this blog thing works out, I just may have to start an additional blog called, "The things I Couldn't Say...in That Other Blog..."
Catchy, eh?
I probably won't do it, however, because this could go on indefinitely. And I don't have time to update 493 blogs. But there are two things you should know to understand why it's an attractive idea for a person like me right now.
1.) It really bothers me to write things that are full of tangents and are not constructed around one unified theme (hence this blog--it allows me to keep tangents out of my sermons a bit more). This has led to trouble, since 2.) On Wed. evening, we had a photojournalist named Ryan Spencer Reed as a guest at First Church. Ryan has spent extensive time in Sudan/Darfur and now travels with a stunning display of his work (it's at Denver Christian this week: Go see it!). I've now spent the last several days digesting Ryan's fabulous presentation, trying to discern what one thing I should say about it (in order to keep in line with principle #1). Needless to say, it's been a difficult choice.
Before the presentation began, I thought I might write about what we (as Christians) do and do not have in common with our atheistic peers. Maybe I still will some day--but not today. Then, during the presentation, I thought maybe I'd write about the imp
ortance of putting a human face on the world's tragedies so that we learn to take them seriously. Point taken (and did I mention you should go see this photo exhibit?!). I also thought about recording Ryan's comments about faith and hope--how he (a relatively new Christian) said that working in Sudan has strengthened his belief in God, not weakened it (as I might have feared). They were beautiful comments. I hope you were there to hear them. But that's not what I want to write about either.
Instead, I want to share with you a comment that has stuck with me the last few days.
A group of us (including Pastor Joy, Ryan and myself) were talking after the presentation about what I some of the issues that had been raised during the presentation: How China's role in the UN has been a roadblock to more international intervention in Darfur, what an important (yet limited) strategy disinvestment is for bringing about change, the ethnic make-up of Darfur vs. Southern Sudan and so on.
One of us (I'd like to think it was not me, but I think it was) said, "Wow, it's all just so complicated."
And Ryan replied (in his gentle and humble way), "No, it's not complicated at all. It's really very simple." And that caught me more than a little off guard.
I wanted to say to Ryan, " What do you mean it's not complicated? I barely understood what you were saying the first half hour of your presentation! I can't comprehend the complexities of international politics and economics. There's so much I don't know! So maybe it's not complicated for someone like you--someone who is clearly very intelligent and who has spent the last five years living and breathing all things Sudan. But for the rest of us, it's far from simple!"
That's what I wanted to say. But before I had a chance, Ryan continued. He said, "It's dangerous to keep saying that things are complicated--because that so easily comes an excuse for politicians for politicians not to take action on this issue."
And I had to think, "Yes, Ryan. Politicians. The Devil. And me."
The fact of the matter is, once you boil things down, it really is very simple. Real flesh and blood human beings--people who are mothers and fathers and children and cousins and wives and husband--are dying. And I've been too self-absorbed to do a thing about it.
I haven't educated myself. I haven't written my congressperson. I haven't prayed.*
I've hidden behind my ignorance and excuses and haven't done a thing.
And that's a sin.
That's all I'll say about that today. But here are some links from Ryan to help (us all?) get started on the path to true repentance:
See how your congressperson is doing, get talking points etc. here.
More information than you can shake a stick at here.
*Eugen Peterson writes: The single most widespread American misunderstanding of prayer is that is that it is private. Strictly and biblically speaking, there is no private prayer. Private in its root meaning refers to theft. It is stealing. When we privatize prayer we ebmezzle the common currency that belongs to all. When we engage in prayer without any desire for or awareness of the comprehensive, inclusive life of the kingdom that is "at hand" in both space and time, we impoverish the social reality that God is bringing to completion."
Catchy, eh?
I probably won't do it, however, because this could go on indefinitely. And I don't have time to update 493 blogs. But there are two things you should know to understand why it's an attractive idea for a person like me right now.
1.) It really bothers me to write things that are full of tangents and are not constructed around one unified theme (hence this blog--it allows me to keep tangents out of my sermons a bit more). This has led to trouble, since 2.) On Wed. evening, we had a photojournalist named Ryan Spencer Reed as a guest at First Church. Ryan has spent extensive time in Sudan/Darfur and now travels with a stunning display of his work (it's at Denver Christian this week: Go see it!). I've now spent the last several days digesting Ryan's fabulous presentation, trying to discern what one thing I should say about it (in order to keep in line with principle #1). Needless to say, it's been a difficult choice.
Before the presentation began, I thought I might write about what we (as Christians) do and do not have in common with our atheistic peers. Maybe I still will some day--but not today. Then, during the presentation, I thought maybe I'd write about the imp
ortance of putting a human face on the world's tragedies so that we learn to take them seriously. Point taken (and did I mention you should go see this photo exhibit?!). I also thought about recording Ryan's comments about faith and hope--how he (a relatively new Christian) said that working in Sudan has strengthened his belief in God, not weakened it (as I might have feared). They were beautiful comments. I hope you were there to hear them. But that's not what I want to write about either.Instead, I want to share with you a comment that has stuck with me the last few days.
A group of us (including Pastor Joy, Ryan and myself) were talking after the presentation about what I some of the issues that had been raised during the presentation: How China's role in the UN has been a roadblock to more international intervention in Darfur, what an important (yet limited) strategy disinvestment is for bringing about change, the ethnic make-up of Darfur vs. Southern Sudan and so on.
One of us (I'd like to think it was not me, but I think it was) said, "Wow, it's all just so complicated."
And Ryan replied (in his gentle and humble way), "No, it's not complicated at all. It's really very simple." And that caught me more than a little off guard.
I wanted to say to Ryan, " What do you mean it's not complicated? I barely understood what you were saying the first half hour of your presentation! I can't comprehend the complexities of international politics and economics. There's so much I don't know! So maybe it's not complicated for someone like you--someone who is clearly very intelligent and who has spent the last five years living and breathing all things Sudan. But for the rest of us, it's far from simple!"
That's what I wanted to say. But before I had a chance, Ryan continued. He said, "It's dangerous to keep saying that things are complicated--because that so easily comes an excuse for politicians for politicians not to take action on this issue."
And I had to think, "Yes, Ryan. Politicians. The Devil. And me."
The fact of the matter is, once you boil things down, it really is very simple. Real flesh and blood human beings--people who are mothers and fathers and children and cousins and wives and husband--are dying. And I've been too self-absorbed to do a thing about it.
I haven't educated myself. I haven't written my congressperson. I haven't prayed.*
I've hidden behind my ignorance and excuses and haven't done a thing.
And that's a sin.
That's all I'll say about that today. But here are some links from Ryan to help (us all?) get started on the path to true repentance:
See how your congressperson is doing, get talking points etc. here.
More information than you can shake a stick at here.
*Eugen Peterson writes: The single most widespread American misunderstanding of prayer is that is that it is private. Strictly and biblically speaking, there is no private prayer. Private in its root meaning refers to theft. It is stealing. When we privatize prayer we ebmezzle the common currency that belongs to all. When we engage in prayer without any desire for or awareness of the comprehensive, inclusive life of the kingdom that is "at hand" in both space and time, we impoverish the social reality that God is bringing to completion."
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Kid's Say the Darndest* Things
Dey-shai and I have been meeting at his school for about three months now--and I'd say we've hit it off pretty well. I'm officially his mentor through our church's Kid's Hope USA program. That means that I try to help him read (I refuse to help with math), play checkers (or most recently: Yatzee!), or talk with him about life and how to make better choices (more on that later). Most importantly, I try to be a steady/positive/male/Christian influence.
I confess, there are days that I feel like I'm going to fall asleep when he's reading. But there are never days when I regret coming.
At any rate, at some point during our hour together, Dey-shai, the King of Irony, always says something that makes me crack up. For example:
I confess, there are days that I feel like I'm going to fall asleep when he's reading. But there are never days when I regret coming.
At any rate, at some point during our hour together, Dey-shai, the King of Irony, always says something that makes me crack up. For example:
- "Joel. Huh. That sure is a weird name."
- "I want to be a pastor, too. Do you get paid a lot?"
- "You're a pastor. So do you own the church?" (He was quite caught up on this one for a while.)
- "Is your Dad really only 5'9"?" (He asked me this one three weeks straight).
- "Did you brush your teeth this morning? Because no offense, you smell really weird." (In my own defense, yes, I did brush my teeth. Probably more than once. It's just that I had a cup of coffee on the way to school to fend off the aforementioned drowsiness. But yes, I should have known better--especially when I think about my sixth grade teacher's coffee breath and how it prohibited me from asking for help on my math homework. I probably would've been an engineer if it wasn't for her caffeine addiction.)
- Any trash talking during checkers. I really love Dey-shai, but seriously, he's one of the world's worst checkers players. He has no business trash talking.
Well, last week, Dey-shai moved beyond the humorous and was--well, touching. Dey-shai was in some trouble for having a little attitude with his teacher. When I came in, he was writing out his confession (a regular part of the discipline at his school, it seems). Only this time, he wasn't writing it to his teacher. He was writing to God. It doesn't look like a lot here, but it took up about half a page with his handwriting. This is what he had to say:
Dear Lord I'm sorry for all the things I did wrong. I can change my ways and I can change my addatude tords people.
Lord I am sorry for using your name in vane and can you help me get out of the mess I'm going throuw.
Lord can you come in my hart can you come into every bodies harts.
I told you it was touching.
Unfortunately, he didn't get to finish it up. But we did get to talk about prayer, and how God might help him stay out of trouble. I wasn't sure if I was "allowed" to at first (as part of Kid's hope, we have to promise not to proselytize), but figured if Dey-shai brought it up I was in the clear. And besides, Dey-shai put my mind to rest. "We're not supposed to talk about God in school," he said. "But you can--you're a pastor."
*If "darndest" is offensive to you or your young children, email me and I'll change the title.
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