Robbed

He phoned to offer me some consolation.

Word had gotten around that when we were setting up for the month’s youth fellowship night that we discovered some items missing. Our video game system had attached to sticky fingers and gone out the door of the church.

Again.

It’s frustrating when things are stolen, especially when you’re counting on using them. Not having the money to replace them makes it even worse.

So it was kind of him to call and I appreciated it.

In the conversation he was much more upset about things than I was. It wasn’t so much that he was stuck on the fact that the thing went missing. He just couldn’t get past that someone stole something from a church.

Getting worn down in his despair, I finally said, “You know, if things don’t get stolen from the church once in a while then were probably not working too hard at reaching the people who need to be here the most.”

Because, oddly enough, there was real victory in the robbery. It wasn’t a case of breaking and entering. Rather, someone who didn’t know how to operate under the most basic of Christian principles and ethics had actually been to church! The game’s absence proved it.

I’m not saying we should be foolish by leaving the doors unlocked or not follow appropriate safety and security measures. Rather, we need to be able to see through the pain and frustration of the crime and see it as a sign that we might just be doing something right.

Really, this shouldn’t be too foreign of a concept for us. After all, we have giant cross on the wall.

God, in all things we give you the glory!

Free

She stepped away from her booth during a lull in traffic and made a bee line to me. I was sitting just a few yards away registering people as they came into the church for health fair.

Her organization had been invited by one of the university's health fair planners. Her focus was on HIV and AIDS ----- awareness, prevention, testing, counseling, and the like.

And I had noticed her work. Focused, passionate, professional, compassionate care emulated from her as she provided absolute dignity and respect in each interaction with everyone who came to her booth. She was clearly working in the center of her calling and giftedness.

So as she came up to me she said, "I want to let you know how much I appreciate this space and the atmosphere you folks at this church have created here. I set up booths in churches, community centers, schools and lots of places all over this city and this is the only place I go where I feel completely free to do my job. No one here is judging me or the people who come to my booth. Lots of places get squeamish about me talking about condoms or hypodermic needles and, I mean, sometimes I know people need our services but they're afraid to stop by because of what others might think. That just isn't a problem here. I'm actually free to do my job and the people who come here feel free to let me do it. I'll come back here any time you want."

I responded in kind about how much we appreciated her work, but as she left I was hit with utter shame.

Here she was working for healing and wholeness in peoples lives. Here she was moving people toward greater righteousness. Here she was desperate to serve those who are often considered among the least in our society.

And yet day after day she only found hostile environments in which to she could operate. For that matter, she probably came to our building that afternoon expecting to be restricted in her service.

I hope her experience gave her some strength to carry on. I hope even more that those of us who are " . . . really and unquestionably free" (John 8:36 (AB)) will generously share that blessing.

Lord, let us be sanctuaries of life and freedom.

Ahold

Even I was hesitant about his baptism and confirmation. I'm quite generous when it comes to sharing in the sacraments and have received lots of raised eyebrows and occasional verbal criticism over the years about it. But this one was stretching me.

This kid had only come to church once or twice before and a couple of years had passed since he'd been to one of our activities. Though his age was still noted in single digits, he had a bit of a challenged reputation throughout the community. I wasn't sure if he had any idea of what the sacraments of baptism and confirmation were about.

But he showed up carrying a towel and change of clothes that morning, as did his cousins who were scheduled to be baptized. Grandma said she'd been teaching him about Jesus and the Bible and that he was ready. With her teaching, I felt even more confident that he really didn't know what this was all about.

At that point, with the service ready to start, I figured that trying to explain my hesitations and requesting he wait for either sacrament would cause confusion and division within the family. More harm would come from not doing as he and his grandmother requested so a little later in the hour he was baptized and confirmed along with his cousins.

Nearly a month later I was hanging out with the guys at the local Laundromat. While visiting, one asked me if I knew, or at least knew of, this kid. When I said, "Yes," they started to shake their heads in frustration over him and his situation.

But then a couple of the men excitedly interrupted to ask the others if they had seen him lately.

"Something must have happened to him a few weeks back," they noted. "It's like something got ahold of him. Yeah, like something really good got ahold of him. He's just different somehow -- and in a good way!"

They didn't know that he'd been baptized. They didn't know of the prayer confirming the Holy Spirit's presence in a new way in his life. They only knew that something really good had gotten ahold of him.

I have to wonder how many times I've let my fears about what other people might think and my own self doubt become barriers to the Spirit taking ahold of someone or something in my life. When did I think I was too good or too smart or too something -- anything -- to guide them to the Living Water? When did I think I was not good enough or not smart enough or not something -- anything -- to bring a confirmation of the presence of God in a situation?

My list of when the fears and doubts ruled the day dwarfs the few times I've gotten it right. But there is One who, despite my disconnect, my cluelessness, my misinformation, and my reputation invites me into His presence. And though I never really know what He's up to, I always seem to leave having had another drink from his fountain and being blessed by his touch.

I think he still has a little hope in me. And maybe if I faithfully hold tight enough to this hope, someone, even if it's just me the midst of all my dirty laundry, will note that something Good has gotten ahold of me.

Lord, let my hope be in You alone.

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.