Intersection

This past weekend I attended the 2010 Origins Conference, an inaugural event from the people that developed the Origins Project. This conference is very unique in that it started with a day of service on Friday. Dave Gibbons made a comment in his keynote speech regarding the hypocrisy that is “Christian” conferences that “create a lot of hot air for two days while the surrounding city has no idea that 100, 1,000, or 10,000 Christians just gathered in their town.” Another unique aspect of this conference is that well-known leaders engaged in conversations about leadership, creativity, equipping, and activism with those in attendance. Their willingness to have lunch with attendees and accessibility in intimate breakout sessions proved their desire to see the Kingdom explode and not their “name” or “Christian Celebrity” status. It was truly a convergence of creative dreamers that are passionate about participating in how God is moving in America.

I walked away from the conference chewing on a few ideas. First, Dave Gibbons spoke about how church leaders must change their “metrics,” meaning the way we measure success. He argued that we still seem to judge the success of our church based on attendance, “Because if you had 100 show up one Sunday and 10 the next… you would worry that something is wrong.” He suggested that we should stop worrying about Sunday morning numbers and concern ourselves with Monday morning numbers. Furthermore, he encouraged us to shoot for a new number on Monday Morning, “zero.” He challenged church leaders, “your church is successful, on Monday morning, when there are zero widows in your area that are not cared for, and zero orphans without families in your town…”

Dave’s words captured the essence of the early church recorded in Acts 2:42-47 and Acts 4:32-37. Recently, at the world premier of BasicSeries, Francis Chan discussed the importance of these passages and their implications for the church today. It seems there is a movement of God afoot in America that is calling church leaders to stop worshiping at the altar of church attendance and start embracing humanity. I say “embracing humanity” and not “meeting needs” because I agree with a statement Dan Kimball made during lunch at Origins, “sometimes, I worry that we are raising up a generation of pluralists when we focus so much on service and lack an emphasis on the theology of the cross.”

The picture in Acts 2 and 4 does not capture a group of people merely running around meeting needs. Yes, there was “no needy people among them,” but that was because their love for Jesus moved them into devotion to each other. We need to strive for zero not by merely meeting the needs of orphans and single moms but by living in their lives. I think this is what Dan meant when he said in his keynote speech, “We need to love people enough that they invite us into their lives and we bring Jesus.”

The fear for leaders in established churches is that church members may get uncomfortable if we make changes in an effort to move the number to zero and love people who do not live in relationship with Jesus. Consequently, our Sunday morning numbers may go down, and as they do so will giving, budgets, and eventually salaries. The thoughts presented at Origins challenge the temptation to stay “safe” and ask  every church leader… are we really church leaders if we are not willing to risk our salaries to follow God’s dream for the church? Do we really need a huge budget, a ton of giving, and big Sunday morning numbers to bring that Monday morning number to zero? Or can (as Origins panelist, Mark Russell stated) “scarcity drive us to innovation.”

It seems that during a great American recession God is calling church leaders to get more creative and risk everything in an effort to chase after His real dream for the church as seen in Acts. I applaud how Origins 2010 challenged us to continue to do this, and I am thankful for what God is doing in and through so many churches.

This morning I read a few stories about the first group of Jesus followers. One story begins with two men, Peter and John, walking to the Temple to pray. On their way, they pass a poor crippled man who asked them for money. Peter and John did not give him money. Instead, they gave him healing. The man jumped up and ran into the Temple… leaping, dancing, and praising God. The crowds were amazed and gathered to see what was happening and then there is this line in the story:

“Peter saw his opportunity and addressed the crowd…”

Many of us struggle with opportunity in a variety of ways. It seems to me there are four main struggles Christian people have when they encounter opportunity. If they could be captured in the sentence from the story they might read something like this…

“Peter saw the opportunity but felt it was too ‘small’ for his stature and so he did not address the crowd.”

“Peter saw the opportunity but remained silent because he was afraid of the consequences if he took advantage of it.”

“Peter did not recognize the opportunity in front of him because he was too busy.”

“Peter took advantage of the opportunity in an effort to advance his ‘career’ as an apostle.”

I could have mentioned others but these are the big four that I have experienced in my lifetime and heard/seen others experience. It seems that all of these struggles with opportunity are rooted in a preoccupation with the “self.”

First, we miss God given opportunities when we fancy ourselves to be too important to take advantage of such opportunities. Sometimes, we see opportunities but we are preoccupied with preserving our own physical safety, reputation or image so we do not take advantage of them. On the other hand, sometimes we cannot even recognize opportunities because we are too caught up in our own busy lifestyles. Lastly, we can selfishly take advantage of these opportunities out of a twisted desire to see our “name” increase.

May we have the courage that Peter had to selflessly see our opportunities to serve and take hold of them.

Last week the unthinkable happened…. My MacBook Pro was well… decided to be not so “Pro” and pooped out on me. That’s right Steve Jobs… my MacBook “Pro” crashed. Later, I found out that it was actually some sort of video board in the computer that crashed and so my data would be saved. Thankfully, the serial number on my computer was within a range of computers suffering from major defects in this area so Apple happily repaired my computer for free. I was hoping Steve Jobs would send me an iPhone 4 and an apology but I’ll take my fixed computer.

I must say that I always expected a sense of panic to overwhelm me if my computer crashed. Instead, last Tuesday I was in the middle of a panicked frenzy trying to return piles and piles of E-mails when all of the sudden a black screen swept over my screen like a thick fog… and a strange sense of relief  overwhelmed me.

I know people that lose very important content when their computers crash. Fortunately, I learned from their mistake and backed up many of my important documents. I have heard people say, “I felt like my life crashed” or “my life was over” when their computer dies. I had a different experience… I enjoyed having my obligations crash right in front of my eyes as I was working on them.

I think we get in dangerous water when we confuse our obligations, responsibilities or  jobs with our life. I am thankful for my iPhone and how it enabled me to continue coordinating the details of my responsibilities. However, I took full advantage of this break from “over connectedness” to my responsibilities. This past week without my MacBook Pro reminded me that we need to continually learn how to separate our sense of “life” from our responsibilities.

I am excited to be back blogging and hope to continue my thoughts on Toy Story 3 next week!

This past week my apartment reached a new all-time-low for cleanliness. I decided that it was time to dedicate an hour to pick up the clutter. I started to throw away trash and picked up a few gross bowls. Then the room started to shake, cabinets rattled, and the noise of my apartment moving filled the room.

I’m not sure why but after the earthquake stopped I wandered outside my front door to see what happened. Surprisingly, all of my neighbors had done the same. I live in a small six unit apartment complex. Although the complex has a community feel only one person has been friendly and accepted my invitation to hang out. Yet, there we were, all of us, standing outside our doors in a daze from the earthquake. We talked and shared what we were doing when it hit.

It is interesting how a few minutes of shaking drew us together for a few minutes of intimacy. Then I watch as everyone scurried back to their doors just as quickly as the earthquake hit. For a second we were neighbors, united by a common experience, but quickly we returned to our lives as fellow tenants that live in the same complex.

Too often I think Christians focus on being “not of this world” and forget that Jesus’ first said to actually “be in the world.” We often struggle to “love our neighbors” because the truth is that we do not have any neighbors. We become so isolated in our “not of this world” bubble, filled with religious rules and regulations, that we no longer have the ability to live with our fellow human beings. We fail to recognize the common humanity we share with the people that stand next to us in line, sit with us on the subway, or drive next to us on the freeway. We become tenants of Earth, with no neighbors, waiting around to die, so that our “faith” may be realized.

Having a home near another person’s home does not make you their neighbor. I live next to six people and only one of them is my neighbor. It took an Earthquake for the other five of us to think we had enough in common to even speak with each other. If we call ourselves Christians we need to recognize that our calling is to “be in the world” as much as it is to not follow its patterns. Furthermore, if we are to “love our neighbors” we must realize that no person will become our neighbor unless we choose to actually “live” in their lives as a friend instead of merely near their home as a fellow Earth tenant.

The other day I rode my bike to a local park to do some reading on my favorite park bench. As I was reading, a couple and their new young puppy caught my eye. The puppy was very young, and judging by how excited the couple was to throw the ball, I imagine this was the first time the three had been out to play.

They threw the ball and almost instinctively this young puppy turned, tail wagging, and chased after it. It seemed, the puppy knew that his calling was to run after the ball, grab it, and bring it back to his happy human lover.

But then I watched the young puppy in this dog take over… sometimes this puppy got sidetracked on the way to the ball. One time it was a butterfly that caught his attention and he ran off to the left and right chasing the butterfly. Another, time he just stopped… smelled the ground for a second…and then proceeded to roll over and rub around in the grass a little.

Something interesting about this was that the owners did not scold the puppy, they did not say, “bad dog!” Instead, they laughed and ran over to their new companion and gave him a good healthy petting. Then they encouraged him to go finish chasing after the ball and bring it back.

One time, they threw the ball and the ball settled next to a pine cone. The puppy chased after the ball and when he reached it… stopped…looked at both the pine cone and the ball… grabbed the pine cone and proudly trotted back to his owners. At this point even I let out a chuckle from my bench across the park. The owners could do nothing but laugh, celebrate what this puppy had done, and then encourage him to go get the ball.

I could not help but think of my relationship with God. My calling in life, or my ball to retrieve is clear. In fact, serving the world as a minister is almost instinctive to me. Often once we discover our calling it feels basic, instinctive, and right. Sometimes, I get sidetracked from my calling like the puppy. When this happens we often think that God, the cosmic judge, is going to bring the pain on us, punish us, or give us discipline. Sometimes, discipline is appropriate, just as the owners would discipline the puppy for peeing in the house.

However, if our sidetracks are not sinful I think God celebrates when we lose site of the ball and roll around in the grass. When we chase after something interesting and intriguing to us for a while. Or when we do something creative like bringing him a pine cone instead of the ball he has set before us.

We each have a ball to retrieve in this life. We each have a calling, but God sets a calling before us to be just that… a calling. Not an obsession. Often we get so wrapped up in chasing the ball that we miss the glory of the park we are running in. I think God rejoices when we realize the fun of rolling in the grass, chasing butterflies, and discovering pine cones as we chase after the ball he has thrown for us.

Last night I watched the classic movie, White Man Can’t Jump, starring Wesley Snipes and Woody Harrelson. The movie is amazing for many reasons: one being the incredible 80’s multicolored hats and tank-tops that I so greatly desire to wear myself.

I noticed a line in the flick that I found interesting. The two main characters were arguing after Sidney (Wesley Snipes) had done something that hurt Bully Hoyle (Woody Harrelson) and Billy says,

“What!? Am I supposed to listen to you now?”  and Sidney responds “No you’re a grown man. You got to figure it out for yourself.”

Sometimes I wonder how many times God says this to us? Maybe not so bluntly but I bet he says it. I know in my life, I’ve sometimes been upset with him or frustrated and wondered where he is. When we pray and we do not feel like we receive a strong answer from God we throw up our hands and say…

“What!? Am I supposed to listen to you now?”

In our Christian circles we talk a lot about trusting in God, but I think God also has trusted us by giving us the opportunity to live our human lives. I know many people when they are faced with a big decision: a job, moving, marrying someone… they pray… and pray… and pray harder. Sometimes these same people get frustrated because they feel they never receive a clear response from God regarding what to do or which path to take.

I think we should always pray, seek guidance, ask for counsel from others, and try and listen for God in as many ways as we can.

But if you’re praying and God is not giving you a clear response… if he is laying some decisions in front of you and he is not clear about which way to go… And if both choices will honor him. Remember that he has trusted you with a human life… and Jesus’ said he wants us to live it freely…

So if you find yourself there… try to imagine God as Wesley Snipes in a multicolored tank-top and short shorts turning to you and saying…

It is cool for you to choose. And head the direction you think is right.

An old lady lives on my street. She doesn’t know me and I do not know her. We’ve never met. We’ve never even had a chance to speak to each other.

But she has changed my life.

This woman can barely walk. She uses a cane and her steps are like small shuffles moving her aged body slowly across the pavement. Twenty of her shuffles with her cane add up to probably one of my steps. That’s no exaggeration.

She hunches over when she walks. She is barely able to keep her head up so she raises her eyes upward to see what is in front of her.

Every now and then during the past few weeks this woman will leave her home about the time I’m heading to work. I’ll watch her shuffle ever so slowly down her walkway and onto the sidewalk.

I leave at 8:00am… she leaves at 8:00am.

After a long morning of work I head to Main Street to grab some lunch around 12:30pm. And there she is halfway up (an uphill) main street still shuffling and struggling her way little by little… one inch at a time.

I look closer and notice that she is carrying a few letters and is making her way to the post office at the top of the hill on Main Street.

Later I’m driving to meet a student at 3:00pm when he gets out of school… And there she is making her way back down Main Street from the post office and towards her home.

When I come home for the day at 6:00pm. There she is struggling back up to her door.

The sight stopped me in my driveway. It took this woman all day to mail one letter. From 8:00am-6:00pm her goal was to make it to the post office and back safely to her home.

As I watched her open her door and walk into her home I thought over the stressfulness of my day: the goals that I wanted to meet, projects that needed to be finished, the multitasking that was done in my car, the eating fast, talking quickly, and my rapid speed of movement through my day.

As I thought about all that… and considered all the other people busy working at their jobs and meeting deadlines that day. I couldn’t help but admire this woman’s dogged determination to accomplish her one task for the day: mailing a letter

May we never become so busy and caught up in the “work” of life that we lose our determination to accomplish our one life-task and calling to make a difference in the lives of those around us.

May there be a little more of this old lady in each of us.

Recently, I’ve been somewhat concerned about money.

Recently, I’ve felt called to be more generous with the money I am given.

So you can see why recently… I’ve felt a little anxious about my finances. I find myself in a paradoxical situation of not having a ton of money, but called to be generous with what I am given.

So reluctantly… and rather worriedly I’ve acted on this calling and tried to live as generously as I can without being reckless or irresponsible with my finances.

Lately, I’ve been checking my bank account pretty much every morning just to see if it has magically gone up a little…

I found myself thinking and praying to have more trust in my financial situation and be more giving despite the fears I have regarding the cost of taxes, upcoming rent, and daily expenses.

I guess I’m worried that one morning I’ll check my bank account and magically… it is all gone.

I was worried about this until yesterday when I received an envelope in my office with some cash. It was from a family member of a friend at church.

It wasn’t much compared to my monthly expenses, but they gave it just to say thank you for walking with them through tough life moments in the past few weeks. They acted in generosity.

Recently, I’ve felt called to be more generous.

Recently… I’m not worried about that.

The past few weeks have been sad and victorious weeks of ministry. One of the single parents in our youth ministry suffered a massive heart attack and is now in a coma. Unfortunately, the doctors have given the news to his son and extended family that he will not survive.

So it has been tough. Sad. Many tears have been cried. Hugs given. Words exchanged. Prays lifted. Hands held. And silences experienced.

But it has also been a happy celebration of the victory this man has in death. So many tears of joy have been cried. Hugs of happiness given. Words from stories of his live exchanged. Prayers of thanks lifted. Hands held in celebration. And silences of contemplation on his life… experienced.

Through this whole experience I got to thinking about our expectations.

These past weeks I have spent a lot of time in the hospital with one of our students and his family.

When I first got to the hospital I parked my car. Sat still in the driver seat. Prayed. Put coins in the meter and walked towards the entrance of the hospital.

On my walk to the front door I noticed a child running to an ice cream cart with money that his parents had given him. Not far behind him was an old couple being wheeled from the hospital to their cars in wheel chairs.

I kept walking.

As I got closer to the hospital a family came walking out. A few were holding each other crying while the dad just leaned against the wall in somewhat of a daze. I didn’t know their situation, but it seemed like they had just lost someone.

I turned back and looked at the boy running back to his mother with his ice cream, and a big smile on his face.

First I thought of the story of Buddha and how he saw very similar sights (known as the four sights) when he learned that life consisted of much suffering, sickness, and death… which inspired him to then head down a path of “enlightenment” and thus we now have Buddhism…

Then I got to thinking about expectations.

We make a lot of future plans for our lives don’t we? We expect to be in certain places at certain times and after certain amounts of work.

We seek to plan, expect, control, and move our lives into the future. And we get frustrated, angry, depressed or discouraged when life doesn’t go as we expected.

I find that very interesting when we did not expect to be here in the first place.

We didn’t plan to be born. We didn’t expect to live on planet Earth.

Who can remember their birth? Who can remember a planning session before they were born? Can any of us remember expecting our existence?

None of us can.

As I watched this boy eat his ice cream, heard the cries of the family behind me, and saw the old couple wheeled to their car, and thought about my friend upstairs who had just suffered a heart attack…

In light of all that… it seemed wrong to hold these expectations at all.

I think it is fine to plan your life and work for a good future… but if I hold expectations for my life to be a certain way… that seems very arrogant… in light of having no control over the beginning and ending of my existence.

One moment I’m being born. Something I didn’t plan to do.

The next I am a boy eating an ice cream cone and smiling.

Then I’m a youth minister about to walk into a hospital to comfort a student whose dad just had a heart attack.

Then I’m married with a family and standing outside a hospital after just loosing a friend.

Then I’m old being wheeled to my car in a wheel chair.

Then I’m dying.

I can’t control these circumstances so how can I rightly hold expectations for how life should be for me?

I’ve always wondered why human beings cannot remember their birth.

Why can’t we remember what it was like to be born?

Why can’t we remember those early days and months of life?

Science tells us that our brains aren’t developed enough to remember.

But I also think that we were not made to remember our birth precisely because that lack of memory should keep us humble.

It should keep us from obsessing with expectations, plans, or trying to control our future.

Because we didn’t expect to be born in the first place. We didn’t’ plan that. We couldn’t control that…

In fact, we can’t even remember it.

That should keep us in a place of deep humility and utter gratitude for life. Moreover, it should enable us to move through every moment in celebration.

Whether that moment is eating ice cream or being wheeled to my car…

This humility will keep me free from the oppression that expectations, future plans, and seeking to control everything can bring into my life. A life that I didn’t plan to exist in the first place.

Instead, may we live humbly in celebration of the present moments we are given to live.

And may we live free from entitled expectations in an unplanned life.

Elaine The Barber

This past Thursday I went to get my haircut at a small barber shop in El Segundo named “Marcy’s Barber Shop.” Two ladies work there: Marcy the owner, and another barber Elaine.

Marcy was busy with another customer and so Elaine a 75 year-old-retired-barber-shop-owner cut my hair. We talked the entire thirty minutes of my hair cut. Discussing life, history, family, and the El Segundo area.

When she finished cutting my hair and we concluded our conversation I went to pay with my debit card. Marcy said,

“Oh I’m sorry we only accept cash.”

I did not have any cash in my wallet and I had a moment of panic. I turned to Elaine who was smiling and I said,

“I’m so sorry. Would you mind of I run to the atm to grab some cash.”

To which she responded,

“Certainly dear.”

It took me about ten minutes to get  in my car, drive to the bank, withdraw some cash, drive back, pay Elane, and give her a big fat juicy tip for trusting me.

A Mexican Boy on a Bike

My experience this past Thursday reminded me of a  story from my time in Mexico. A group of us had traveled down to San Felipe Mexico to build a house for a family.

One afternoon we decided to stroll into town (which isn’t much of a town compared to the suburb towns of Los Angeles).

While we were strolling around a young boy tried to sell us some wrist bands. They were one peso each. I bought two, but all I had to give him was a pretty large Mexican peso bill.

The boy’s eyes widened when he saw me take out the bill.

One of the people in our group spoke Spanish so I asked her to ask him if he had change.

The boy said no, but that he would go get me some change.

Next thing I know he grabbed my bill, hopped on his bike, and flew away down the street with my money.

This boy wasn’t working at a shop and he didn’t have a little kiosk to return to. Instead, he was selling these wrist bands from his pocket and putting the money in his other pocket.

He had no reason to return to us and give me the change.

After about fifteen minutes of waiting some of the other people in our group said,

“give it up man” “he’s not coming back.” Or “you just got robbed by a little Mexican boy on a bike.”

On any other day… I would have agreed with them and walked on. But for some reason I trusted this boy. I had a feeling he was going to come back with my change.

Sure enough thirty minutes later… everybody had left… i was still standing where the boy had left me… I looked up at the corner… right as the boy turned the corner on his bike frantically racing towards me as fast as he could.

Out of breath and sweating he hopped off his bike and ran up to me… handed me my change… and said,

“Gracias”

To which I similed and said,  “Gracias” and handed him back the money.

An Old Man in Kyoto

That story reminds me of another story except this time I was in Kyoto Japan….

And utterly lost.

My friend and I had just come from Tokyo where it was easy to get lost when the signs had English subtitles.

Old town Kyoto had no English subtitles on their signs. Our hostel/some-Japanese-guy’s-house-where-the-owner-rented-out-rooms was located in not most affluent area of town.

So there we were… lost… in Kyoto Japan, it was getting dark, and for some reason the map that the worker at the train station gave us was not drawn correctly.

We spotted an old man on the corner smoking a cigaret.

So we asked the older gentleman  if he could help us.

After communicating with a few grunts and hand gestures he flipped out his cell phone and made a call.

After talking to someone in Japanese for about ten minutes he hung up. Looked at us and pointed down the road as he walked forward.

We said to ourselves, “I think he wants us to follow him.”

We followed him as he lead us down dark alleyways, and eerie side roads. Many times I wondered: where exactly is this man was leading us?

After about fifteen minutes of twisting and turning our way through ghostly backstreets and peculiar passageways we came to a small Japanese house with a tiny sign that read,

“The Bola Bola House.”

He had taken us right to our hostel. He bowed to us. We bowed to him. And we went our separate ways.