Information Update

Some of you have wondered why it's been so long since the last post. First, the summer was busy. Since then I've been sick. I'll be out of commission for a while but will be back once I'm well again.

Thanks for your continued support.

Balcony

I would have raised an eyebrow, too, if my children came home from school telling me that their classes had been to a local house of worship for activities, especially if that place's faith tradition had a reputation of doing things like burning the holy book of my faith. So I was glad when the women, clad in headscarves as a way of showing respect to God, came in with their daughters' classes.

They stayed with their daughters' groups throughout the event as we taught peacemaking skills and better ways to get along with one another as we share this planet.

As it happened, that day's staff also included many nursing students from a nearby university who were earning hours in community engagement. By their dress, it was clear to all that they were of the Jewish tradition.

So there, in a the balcony of a little church in an overlooked inner-city neighborhood, practicing Christians, Muslims, and Jews came together for a couple of hours to teach their kids how to live more at peace with one another.

I don't think what happened in the balcony of the church that day happened too many other places on the planet that year. For a few minutes at least, long histories of swords, guns, bombs, and bloodshed were replaced with crayons, jigsaw puzzles, puppets, and laughter as our mutual faith-filled hope for a better world was shared together by teaching kids the ways of peace.

So I have to wonder what other seemingly obscure places peace might be being birthed for a new generation. I shouldn't be surprised, really, that hope for the world might start in such an odd place. After all, I worship a God whose incarnation began in a stable in a small town in Judea.

Thank you, Lord, for letting us witness You in ways we could not have imagined.

Outlet

All our work seemed in vain once the lights went out.

Yes, it was Easter Sunday. The thousands of invitations had gone door-to-door and church members had been inviting friends and family to join in the celebration.

But overnight the power went out. Some people overslept because their alarm clocks were off. Others didn't have hot water to clean up with so they would feel presentable in public. Some got distracted by the outage and forgot that it was Sunday or lost track of time. Others figured we'd cancel the services. All these folks missed church that day.

And those were the people who attend faithfully.

Since the area of the outage roughly coincided with the area we'd done all our marketing, who knows how many others who were considering attending didn't?

So, on what is historically the busiest days for churches across the globe, we had but a handful of worshippers gathered in a cold, dark church.

But strangely enough, one of our electric outlets worked just fine that morning. The only place with any power for several city blocks was the socket right next to the cross. We were able to plug in our sound system and have music to sing together in our celebration of resurrection.

Despite the cold, dark, confused world around us, we found the one source of power to help us lift our voices and hearts.

I have to think of those women who, after a very confusing week, went to a cold, dark tomb. Well beyond their imagination they found the one outlet of Power in their world. In our world.

And though there were just a few of them, the disciples soon followed and within a couple of months there were thousands drawing from that Source.

So when my world is cold, dark, and confusing, I hope I can remember to go back to the cross seeking the power of Resurrection that will turn my voice to praise. That work is never in vain and I'll find Easter all over again.

To you, Lord, be all glory, honor, and power.

Always

It had gotten dangerous.

I'd known him since he was a little kid and we'd always gotten along. I'd baptized him when he was a teen and though he'd since dropped out of church life, we visited regularly and kept up with each other's lives.

Though he ran his operation's territory on the streets with cruel, brute force, my family and I were always safe around him. He also made sure that his associates didn't mess with us, either.

But over about a six month time period, he went from friendly to cordial. Then to ambivalent. After that he started making subtle aggressive gestures toward me and toward the church.

Those gestures became less and less subtle. The family and I weren't afraid of him, but we knew not to engage him and to always give him his space.

I don't know what brought about these changes. I was not happy about them and was concerned about what might be next.

So I was a little apprehensive when he stepped out of a doorway onto the sidewalk in front of me that evening. I tried to move out of his way but he blocked my path then cornered me with my back to a car.

"I got the Birthday card from the church," he said. "You all are the ones who always remember. Thanks." He left.

We've been fine ever since. And I wasn't even the one who sent the card.

Finding ways of being consistent in ministry, from always having the church doors open at the scheduled times to always sending a birthday card, is an important way to show God's love. Because His love isn't dependant on the weather or the season and He's not too busy to remember to be present with us.

Clearly, I'm not God and I forget a lot of things. Plus the weather impacts what I want to do and my mood gets the best of me sometimes. But when His followers come together as the Church and prioritize what we will always make sure is done, mood and weather not withstanding, we live the love of the One who loves us, even when we're in a season when we've become become simply cordial or ambivalent or worse toward Him.

And through His consistent love we can bring surrender to the cruel, brute forces of the world.

Lord, thank you for promising to be with me always.

Supplied

Like so many women that day, she took the little girl's hand and help her pick out the school supplies she'd need for the coming year. They carefully selected folders and notebooks, discussed whether skinny or fat markers would be best, and made thoughtful decisions at each of the different tables where we had set out supplies for free distribution to all kids who came.

Though scenes like this were repeated hundreds of times that afternoon, this one stood out. That's because of what had happened during the six weeks prior.

Each Sunday since the first of the "Back to School" fliers arrived, she came to church carrying a bag with a few school supplies to donate to the cause. And in the end she both gave and received about the same amount of materials.

But she didn't know how much she would receive when she stated to give. And though she really didn't have the money to both buy supplies for her own girl and to give supplies to the drive at the church, she had enough faith to be a part of the giving and humility to accept that which she received.

Her courage showed me how to take a solid Kingdom stance amid a "me first" world. And her simple acts of giving as blessed and receiving as blessing reminded me of the power and the possibility that comes when generosity is a two-way street.

May I live likewise.

Thy Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.

Chalk

The first warm and sunny Sunday after a cold bleak winter called us to have our kids activities outdoors. With hope in their hearts and chalk in their hands they tumbled out into the fresh air to decorate the sidewalk with the bright colors of spring.

The kids were already at work when I stepped out the front door. They took turns striking poses and tracing each other as they lay on the concrete.

Within minutes, the kids proclaimed that they were finished. I looked on horrified to see the unadorned chalk outlines of a dozen children lining the sidewalk of the church. Some police tape would have made the scene complete.

They were puzzled as to why my face was contorted and why I didn't think they were finished. Not wanting to point out that it looked like the remnants of a massacre, I made a declaration.

"LOOK at these children on the sidewalk. NONE of them are wearing any CLOTHES! I don't allow naked children in front of this church so put some clothes on them right now!"

For a moment they were shocked. Then embarrassment kicked in as they took the many colors of chalk and created the latest fashions within the outlines. They added some jewelry and other essential bling before going inside to wash their hands. The faces, both on the sidewalk and on the kids themselves, carried smiles.

When I've come out of the bleak winter seasons in my soul there's often little more than what feels like a chalk outline of myself left. And the start of a period of new growth can look more like a crime scene than a glorious new season.

But as I find my robes of righteousness, don my helmet of salvation, buckle my belt of truth, walk around in my shoes of peace, and add the essential bling of a polished shield of faith, I move from a remnant of the past season to joy-filled life in Him.

Because when Spring arrives in the soul again, it's time to get out and revel in the fresh Air.

Lord, you are the restorer of my soul.

Toxins

Our eyes filled with tears.

I'd like to say that it was because we'd gotten emotional over a movement in the Spirit, but that would not be accurate.

It was the fumes.

I don't remember the exact cause, but somehow the church was filled with gas from the sewer. It wasn't just a bad smell; the stinging toxins caused us all to react physically. We were quite certain that if someone had caused a spark the whole thing would have exploded.

Turning on the exhaust fans didn't help. Opening all the doors and windows didn't help. Stepping out of the building and breathing deeply ---- that helped.

Of course, this problem didn't exist at all on Saturday evening. I guess that's OK as we wouldn't have been able to pay the emergency fees to get someone out on the weekend to fix it anyway.

So we scoped out our options, gathered some old folding chairs, took them to the nearby park, and set them up under the shade of a tree. We found some batteries for a boom box and pulled out some CDs to play. We posted a kid a the front door and had him point the gathering parishioners to our new location.

Someone had thrown one of those big orange traffic barrels (the kind with the flashing light on it that road crews use in construction zones) into the park. It's flasher was not longer working so I set my Bible on it and used it as the day's pulpit.

Since we were just rolling with the punches, those who came planning to be indoors just rolled with things, too. Expectations for the day went down as everyone fumbled around a little bit, but in the end things turned out OK. We even had a couple of people who were in the park stop by to see what we were doing.

We called in the pros the first of the week and got the problem solved.

Since that time I've become a little more sensitive to toxic fumes inside the church.

Interpersonal conflicts, programming debates, inflated egos, people not meeting each others' expectations, theological disagreements ---- the list goes on. These fumes can build up overnight in a church and have us all on the verge of tears.

And it seems like one spark will cause the whole thing to explode.

When this happens it's critical that we get some fresh Air. Open the windows and doors. Turn on the fans. And when that's not enough, we need to get someplace --- physically, spiritually, emotionally --- where our expectations of each other can be relaxed and where we can let the Spirit breathe.

For it's in those places where we can let our flashpoints dim and replace them with steady light from the Word.

Once we're breathing again we need to be humble enough to ask for help from others. Hoping the fumes will just dissipate on their own will just keep us in the same crisis.

And though not all the sources of toxins in a church can be repaired with one service call, we know through the cross that the price has been paid and that restoration is already on its way.

Breathe on me breath of God.