My Life

The clouds have been gray and heavy this week. It’s a blessing after weeks of 100-degree and 90-degree weather in a sea of asphalt. Weather has always fascinated me. It’s one of those things in life that we have little direct control over. It comes. It goes. It radically reshapes life in a moment.

My life feels just as uncertain sometimes these days. I know I have two hands to help people. I know I’m trying to act wisely to serve people. But I can’t predict how the lives of these people that I talk to each day will change. I have great, tested faith that my writing produces change a world away a year at a time. But even that requires a good measure of faith in God that good will result from our most diligent efforts.

It reminds me of friends I wrote about today. In the southern reaches of their country, they currently are far from the war and fighting that tore their lives apart for decades. But in 3 short years, they know that the fighting will very likely return. The temporary peace will shatter. When? How? Few are certain.

What wisdom does a man in that community have to share with me at this time in life? What insight does a life full of few certainties but dread have for me? Some days I wish I could ask. Till then, God provides and I receive the crumbs from a master’s table that sustain a life full of blessing.

I’ve lived in the world of non-profits for most of my life, so I know how important it is to tell the story of success and progress. I know how important it is to illustrate real change resulting from one’s work.

But tonight as thoughts swirl, I reflect on the beauty of the “almost.”

In the almost, we see what could be.
In the almost, we see something greater than here.
In the almost, we see the seeds of something that could change everything.

And I tend to think that many folks need that “almost” almost as much as they need the dreamed of thing to happen. They need that belief that something greater is to come and be energized to act in a way that accentuates the beauty of what is to come.

It could be why we so often show pictures of the runner breaking the tape, of football players making the catch and olympians straining to win. For a moment, we join with them in their passion and desire. For a moment, we are longing for something together. The gold medal, the award, the trophy… they’ll come soon enough. For now, we are hoping for the almost that is just out of reach… and it’s amazing.

This morning I had the privilege of listening to a Mayan man from Guatamala who was sharing about the positive changes he’s seeing in his community. Husbands are showing their wives more respect. Local leaders are respecting the value of indigenous languages.

So when I stumbled across babbel [via] (a web language learning program) today, I was already thinking about the multitude of languages out there. “Oh, they teach Spanish, French, Italian… but wait… what kind of Spanish do they teach?”

Certainly there is a growing recognition that major languages (including English) have very different expressions in different countries. You can search for “learn Latin American Spanish” and hit a few resources. But search for “learn Guatamalan Spanish” and the results are pretty sparse save for opportunities in Guatamala.

It’s not a matter of right and wrong, but I look forward to an ever-growing recognition that we live in a complex world with many beautiful languages and styles of speaking those languages–all of great value.

30 years ago
I entered the world
God was kind

29 years ago
I began the life of a pastor’s son in a church community I still love
God was kind

25 years ago
I slept on a rug in Mrs. Landau’s class
God was kind

20-some years ago
I realized how much I loved writing in English class
God was kind

12 years ago
I served people on the streets of Chicago
God was kind

8 years ago
I walked across the stage, name in hat
God was kind

7 years ago
I showed up with two bags in California to help people translate the Bible
God was kind

6 years ago
I met amazing friends who I welcomed newcomers with
God was kind

4 or so years ago
I traveled the desert with my mother, a Camry, a roof-top carrier and tires that didn’t make it
God was kind

3 or so years go
I found another part of my family through a pastel website
God was kind

1 or so years ago
I learned the encouragement of serving those in need
God was kind

1 or so years ago
Some folks thought I should be given the gift of ordination
God was kind

Today, this journey may end. Each day I’ve lived I’ve tried to remember it may be my last. But God is kind and has provided what I’ve needed this far. And till that time when life is over I pray I’ll have a bit more energy to help a few more people.

It’s one of the hardest parts of my week. Each weekend, I pull up to the shelter and my friend and I spend the last few minutes of our conversation saying as many encouraging things as I can. Meanwhile, my heart is breaking… again.

I’ve spent many days in the past few years trying to help friends in need. Some are clearly in physical or emotional need. Some have needs that are hidden a bit deeper. Sometimes my efforts are well-appreciated. Sometimes outsiders seem quick to judge what they perceive as my lack of truly caring.

My friend is a special case. I’ve walked a long ways with him and he’s taught me things even in the midst of his struggles. Many nights I want to skip all the red tape and let my friend crash on the futon in my living room. A softer bed, a bit more freedom and a stress-free environment–these golden things I so often take for granted–they are denied him regularly. And when it’s all written out on paper, it’s clear I can’t change that right now.

But every weekend we sit facing each other, pouring over classifieds, worries, want ads and questions about God. And on those days I try to do the impossible, praying all the while. At each corner, we face the problems together and it seems we barely keep pace.

This past week I sat with another friend and I realized just how hard this has been personally. It’s like seeing my brother in pain and being unable to end it. It’s a regular, emotional struggle that I keep giving to God in prayer.

Some days that encourages me.

Some days I’m desperate for it to end for both of us.

Generations ago, people who worked for various social or non-profit causes were strange individuals. They were uniquely aware of the needs around the world, sitting with the starving child or holding the hand of people who had lost hope. How could they be normal after seeing so much need? It was the strange people who would constantly be thinking, “How many more am I able to help?”

But with the advent of modern information technology and infrastructure, I see that changing every day. Whether you go to the store, your favorite social networking site or your favorite TV program, there is a presentation of the world’s needs everywhere today.The question for even the average person is no longer, “Is there need?” Now, everyone is asking, “How many more am I able to help?”

Are we preparing our children, our young men and women and the people we influence for this new reality? It’s not enough anymore to teach someone to manage their own things. We need to teach them how to make the most of their ability to help other people in an increasingly connected world.

Thirty-some years ago, they rode the whirling machine, holding tight with change flying. Thirty-some years ago, they held tight, hoping a someday would come. Thirty-some years ago, someday seemed forever away and imminent all at once. Thirty-four years ago, my father and mother committed to a life of love and passion and service and struggle–together.

In coming days, good friends will stand in front of a crowd and make a commitment to each other. It’s been a journey I’m sure. Good things never come easy and the best rarely come without difficulty. But from what I know of my friends, they’ve done everything they can to honor God and each other along the way. They’ve talked through what it means to commit for life and agreed to step into the unknown–together.

I was back home to celebrate my parents’ anniversary in a small, belated way this past week. We returned to the amusement park where they had their first date and rode the ride that tossed the contents of my mom’s purse everywhere. Stealing a moment, they kissed and we took pictures. It was a private time between them and two of their children–all alone in the crowd but together.

I hadn’t been able to spend much time with her. Pennsylvania is a long ways from Texas and my time back there is often far too short. So when I had the chance to sit down with J for a bit of tea, I was really glad.

Sharing a thermos, we unfolded the red checkered blanket, unpacked the plates and cups and sat on the ground. Tea isn’t really my thing but everything was good and it was clear that the food was just an excuse to spend time.

Sometimes you need to have times like this. A little shared food, plenty of time and no agenda. I don’t know if J will remember our time together years from now. She’s only a couple years old and likes to wrestle as much as share invisible tea. But I’ve been told there is a Turkish proverb that if you share coffee together you are committing to 40 years of friendship. If that applies
to tea, I think I’ve got a friend for life.

This post originally appeared on my other blog “Learning to Live Together.” For the next while, posts will appear both places and on my Myspace blog to better connect with a variety of friends. Feel free to make your home where you like and thanks for your interest!

It happened again today. I was leaving the shop and got the distinct impression that a new friend could use some of my time. Label it what you want, something, perhaps even God, gave me the distinct impression I needed to go back as I crossed the intersection.

One u-turn, awkward introduction and prayer together later I was sitting with a guy I don’t think I’ve ever met before. We talked about life, about challenges and about hope. I left him with my number and the knowledge that people… that God cared about him and his family.

If I’m going to really help reconcile with each other and see hope for life, I need to sit on more sidewalks. I need to sit in little Mexican restaurants. I need to wander the back alleys of whatever town I’m in.

Voxtropolis has been a great place to meet a number of new friends over the years. At the same time it’s been somewhat of a walled garden where most folks I meet are roughly like me. That’s a hard thing to combat, and to be fair, I haven’t fought that much myself. Honestly, it’s one more thing I probably just don’t have time for right now.

For the next while I’ll be posting here and copying many posts over to Myspace where my relatives hang out.

I’ll still be around now and again, but won’t likely post much more here. Thanks for caring enough to read what I’ve written.

won’t it be cool when just about all phones can do things like this?

I can forget the good that can be done in the midst of planning and programs far too easily. Days like today are good times to remember this. Life can be more than maintaining. Life is inherently more than maintaining.

I need to remember that…
> true faith involves hope for today and tomorrow
> true life involves pursuing dreams of transformation and beauty
> true teaching for me must involve telling more stories

 Why would you ever complain, O Jacob,
or, whine, Israel, saying,
“God has lost track of me.
He doesn’t care what happens to me”?
Don’t you know anything? Haven’t you been listening?
God doesn’t come and go. God lasts.
He’s Creator of all you can see or imagine.
He doesn’t get tired out, doesn’t pause to catch his breath.
And he knows everything, inside and out.
He energizes those who get tired,
gives fresh strength to dropouts.
For even young people tire and drop out,
young folk in their prime stumble and fall.
But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.
They spread their wings and soar like eagles,
They run and don’t get tired,
they walk and don’t lag behind.

[Read more]

I was reminded again this week that in giving ourselves away we receive. In losing our rights to have it all the way we like, we gain a richness to life. In serving other people, we often find that they are the ones serving us.

The Office is one of those shows that I didn’t bother watching for the first season. My schedule was busy and it just wasn’t worth the effort to be at home one night each week at the same time by myself. With the availability of full television episodes online though, I’ve been able to connect with some of the best TV I’ve seen in a while. (MASH is a rerun so it probably doesn’t count.)

There’s typically a lot of quirky humor in The Office, but they manage to share some real humanity in the process as well. The most recent episode in particular shared some moments of empathy and love that felt very genuine. They only lasted a moment, but they were worth a hundred “touching” sitcom moments.

Click the photo above or here to watch a clip from the recent episode that I think illustrates my point somewhat. Or click here to watch the entire episode online.

I was there but not there
I was on the road home
But headed nowhere familiar

I could have sworn I was driving on Pennsylvania highways this morning. Fog this thick is rare in these parts.

What is it about light and heat and temperature that make things feel off? Why do we create thermometers with horse heads and mouse pads with Chinese characters?

These are the things that I know… but I don’t know. They are the mystery that haunts the edge of life. We desire comfort… but why do I desire this particular comfort to feel “right?” We enjoy creativity and whimsy… but why this style or that even when we are nearly alone in our appreciation?

Sometimes I feel like I know at once both everything and nothing.

I’m still processing this past weekend’s trip to serve the poor with mi familia en México, but this quote was worth sharing…

The way for a young man to rise is to improve himself every way he can, never suspecting that anybody wishes to hinder him. Allow me to assure you that suspicion and jealousy never did help any man in any situation. There may sometimes be ungenerous attempts to keep a young man down; and they will succeed, too, if he allows his mind to be diverted from its true channel to brood over the attempted injury. Cast about, and see if this feeling has not injured every person you have ever known to fall into it.

Abraham Lincoln

From a Letter to William H. Herndon. Washington, July 10, 1848

Or as said by another wise person a few years before…

These court cases are an ugly blot on your community. Wouldn’t it be far better to just take it, to let yourselves be wronged and forget it? All you’re doing is providing fuel for more wrong, more injustice, bringing more hurt to the people of your own spiritual family.

Paul

From a Letter to the Christ followers in Corinth

I don’t pretend to know all of what this means for you, but it’s a reminder to me that I get nowhere by holding on to past hurts. It’s in forgiving and loving each other that progress comes.

It happened again today. A little gecko managed to steal into our office and find its way to one of the few potted plants near a window. And as with the crickets and the beatles, I found a container and began the rescue process of getting it back outside where food is more plentiful.

It makes me feel good in some small way to do these things. I know that it’s almost a non-event when it comes to caring for the animals and plants of the earth, but for me it’s a reminder.

It’s a reminder that life matters.
It’s a reminder that there are small things worth my time.
It’s a reminder that I am responsible for something more than just me.

[learn more about geckos]

Lovers of culture and language like me will want to check out this unique look at a child’s understanding of language. Read the second paragraph especially.

And read my previous post about the UN’s celebration of the International Day of Peace today. Even a skeptic like me, can do their bit to encourage harmony and love.

It struck me again today that true hope… that true life… that true love… that they’re all found at the end of journeys. It’s not a new truth, but rather a very old one. Paul of Bible fame speaks of it in terms of a fight or a race. Jesus calls people to extended walks through rough country to share love in poor, remote villages. And when he leaves he challenges his followers to make disciples–a word wrapped in journey.

And while I recognize this and know it well, I can’t say that I always fully understand it.

• As a single man, I still struggle to learn the process of growing a relationship with a woman. (Women often have much more wisdom about this I think.)
• As a writer, I still struggle to learn the diligence of the many drafts.
• As a sometimes leader, I still struggle to invest the time in people in takes to really empower and encourage them to love other people.

As I continue to refresh and relearn after my time away, I want to learn to appreciate the journey a bit more and to invest my time and energy in it.

Lon models a great way to get started–getting to know your city.

Last week was truly an amazing gift. Few have the opportunity to spend a few days away in an isolated part of Texas with their books and their tools for writing and solitude in a place where God feels evident. Changes will come slowly, but they will come. It’s time to get moving again.

In the mean time, listen to this story to get a taste of the tragic plight that our brothers and sisters face.

Life and especially work has picked up lately so I’ve had to allow my writing here to come to low boil. As this blog is more a passing fancy of writing and occasional interaction, I feel comfortable with that. You can always contact me at Facebook or at MySpace as they suit you.

Hope doesn’t come on the wings of a dove
Fluttering down with  swelling music
It comes squirting through API code
It hitches a ride on late night e-mails
When creativity finally peeks from its hidding place
When the poor are fed
When wounds are  soothed
Then hope comes by
Slipping in quietly
Laying warm hands on sore shoulders
And whispering that tomorrow will come

I read this poem by Robert Frost this morning and it’s well on its way to being one of my favorites. We forget too often that we never live life alone. Our choices always affect others.

The Tuft of Flowers by Robert Frost

I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.

The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the leveled scene.

I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.

But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been,�alone,

“As all must be,” I said within my heart,
“Whether they work together or apart.”

But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a ’wildered butterfly,

Seeking with memories grown dim o’er night
Some resting flower of yesterday’s delight.

And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.

And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.

I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;

But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,

A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.

I left my place to know them by their name,
Finding them butterfly weed when I came.

The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,

Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.

The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,

That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,

And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;

But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;

And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.

“Men work together,” I told him from the heart,
“Whether they work together or apart.”

A good cup of coffee, two monitors and some very worthwhile live jazz recordings… I’ve been given a great deal in life.

it should be how to learn, as Stephen, my friend, shares:

It’s not always easy learning something new, but it’s important if I am going to continue to be a productive leader in my family and culture.  read more>>

Read more thoughts from Stephen here.

I’ve mentioned the Dallas Progress blog before, but I had to point back to the work of Michael Davis again when I saw his most recent post on an apartment complex in Dallas without working air conditioning. If you live in the area, you know how serious that is with temperatures coming up on 100 in the next few days.

As time goes on, I think my blogging needs to start looking something more today’s post. Many in largely-white, evangelical, missional circles of faith in Christ are saying great things about community involvement and love, but doing far too little advocacy on behalf of the hurting.

I’m continually fascinated by life of every shape and size. This lizard was so intent on getting warm that he stopped to pose for a picture.

One of our regional papers, The Star Telegram, had a great story recently on how two strangers met through an accident. After a collision with a car left Mark Evans bleeding and unable to move, Tommy Crumpton was among the first at the scene with first-aid kit in hand and a hug for Mark’s wife when she showed up. Tommy stayed in touch after the accident as well, eventually being assigned as Mark’s physical therapist.

What I find most compelling about the article is the way they end the story.

Although Mark does not remember much about the accident, he knows that if Tommy had not been there, things would be different now.

“He didn’t stay in his yard, he didn’t just stand by and watch,” Mark said. “He took charge and tried to make things OK.”

He did that and more.

“If you keep your eyes and ears open sometimes you find out that the world really is a small place,” Mark said. “You find out there really are no strangers after all.”

Forget all those obtuse, metaphysical posts. This is what love is.

Two great videos today. The first is one in a great series about a local service to the poor.

The second is a thoughtful presentation on blasting out distracting e-mails so you can focus on people and your goals for the day. Fellow office workers will understand how much time checking e-mails can suck out of a day.

[googlevideo]http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=973149761529535925&hl=en[/googlevideo]

God grant me gift to see the mistakes I’ve made and the grace to forgive such things in others.

What makes for a good day? Many moments with loved ones? Many accomplishments with measurable results? It’s a more profound question than it first seems. Each day we are in the business of evaluating our days. Each day we live happily or not and make others happy or not based upon these estimations.

Today, a good day was walking the streets between shelters where fights can break out over nothing in a moment. It’s a day of listening to emo and rap while basketball games and art crafts and long winding conversations meander. It’s the hope of working together. It’s the prayer on the corner and the hope for something more. It’s the last minute rides given to friends and the herding of kids out of the pool. It’s the conversations with friends about work and the life of a  hospital maintenance worker. It’s the late night wonder that a God would love and keep and that sober understanding that tonight so many sleep on the streets.

I must embrace the beauty and the pain. Without one, there is no spark of life. With the other, there is no fire of motion.

What would you do? disappeared

This past weekend has been a full one, perhaps more so than I even realized until yesterday. And this morning as I’m left with my lukewarm coffee and a long list of things I think I need to do I can’t say it’s nearly as exciting. This morning there aren’t kids to play with, movies ot watch, people to laugh with or important moments of relationship to celebrate.

I think people forget this when they talk about changing the world. Lasting change is born out of the fire of painful diligence. Thankfully, as a follower of Christ, I think we’re granted an extra measure of peace and fulfillment  if we pursue Christ. But those things don’t suddenly suspend us in eternal bliss. The people we look at now who have a lasting legacy of helping other people had to give long hours to pursuits where outcomes were unknown and the work was either mentally or physically demanding.

If I want to be known as someone who loved people and as someone who made a lasting difference, I need to mentally prepare for this. I need to live it today.

And as I do I have hope. I have hope that God is eager to see acts of love result in something tangible. I have hope that God is already working to help hurting people right now. I have hope that it doesn’t all depend on me.

I’m back listening to an electronica cd I’ve had for a while. Some dismiss electronica as background music abstraction, but I like to think of it as musical impressionism. There is an attempt to communicate a sense of space and life and emotion with a collection of sounds that might at first seem unrelated and broken.

[Unseenmachine]
[Unseenmachine on myspace]

It ended today. Lingering… Gone. And you, the provider the always, were there. You were not there

How could you be? Could you affirm me for me? Could you process the pain?
Could you comfort me with a gentle touch? Could you talk me down when this comes back to mind again?

I have faith that You can. But your people… your people that I love… they give me hollow, repetitious phrases. Who has courage enough to speak how your immaterial love meets the material? Who will tell me how the sexual being is made complete without sex? I have faith that You can. But your people… your people that I love… are silent.

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Wide Angle is a documentary series on life around the world and specifically issues faced by various communities in the developing world. I always encourage critical evaluation, but do take the time to dig into the life of people in other countries. Most of the episodes are available to watch free online.

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It’s a cool thing to hang out with 50,000 of your neighbors and celebrate.

[There’s one more.]

Over the years, I’ve never been a classic “geek” in the truest sense of the word, but I have some crazy innate desire to learn about everything that sometimes comes close enough. Today, that meant I spent a few minutes of rest time looking up the modern day usage of the Spanish pronoun “usted.”

The short layman summary is that there are at least two words used throughout the Spanish-speaking world for “you.” One is more formal and the other is generally more intimate in a non-sexual way.I’ve heard from a source or two that the more formal “usted” was on its way out in some places in favor of the more friendly “tu.” Which made me think (like others) about our English changeover from using “thee” and “thou” to “you.”

Is there a changing sense of how formally we relate to each other that’s seen in a language change like this? I think it’s safe to say “yes” in English, but what if this truly is a more global phenomena as the article linked to above and others suggests?

Does this change in thinking reflect a greater ease and sense of respect ? Or does it reflect a decreasing sense of respect for the innate of others? Or is there some dynamic linked to the industrial revolution that is still occurring in developing parts of the world? I’m curious.

Update from a French teacher: Yes, in french there is a formal you “VOUS” and an common you “TU”.  “VOUS” is always used if you don’t know the person or if the person is older than you (senior respect).  

Some of you are aware that between my work hours for a non-profit in the Dallas, TX area I’ve been spending time developing opportunities to serve the poor and homeless with Mosaic Arlington, my community of faith.

It’s been an interesting two months as I’ve walked the streets of Arlington, Ft. Worth and Dallas with people who really do want to make a lasting difference. It’s often different than my expectations, but it’s always encouraging. Many well-off people want to make a lasting difference and many of the poor are very aware God loves them and wants them to serve others.

As I look forward, some thoughts are taking shape:

1. Relationships are key to lasting work. One-shot projects are appreciated, but the value of a gift goes up dramatically when you spend time with a person on a regular (weekly often) basis.
2. There is a desire among many of the poor to improve their condition with the proper tools. What hinders many is bureaucratic miscommunication and the lack of a social network that helps them in a pinch. (We rely on our friends and family more than we think.)
3. There are many needs in our ow neighborhoods that we’re either blind to or lack the resolve to truly make a difference. Our temptation will be to go to the “glamorous” needs we can leave behind. Movement to a new need is not bad, but we have to do it with the right motivations and intentionality. (Followers of Christ in evangelical circles are particularly tempted ini this regard.)
4. A community of faith is heavily dependent on hearing the stories of people who have seen the need first hand and who can passionately share personal stories. We assume that we’re rational people. Most times we’re really not. We often need a story of success or failure to get in motion.

There’s much more I could say and hope to say, but that’s my Sunday AM brain dump. One question I welcome more thoughts on is: “How do we get people who aren’t writers or creators to share what God is doing (see 4) as part of their normal routine?”

I have to say this is something I never expected to see. A Chinese buffet within about fifteen minutes of my house is up for sale on E-Bay. I guess this kind of thing has happened before, but the world really is changing.

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I have too much to tell you on broken mornings like these. Too many sad songs of broken hearts. Too many happy stories of glimmers of hope. Oh they’ll come. Stories of Rosie and Roy who live in my complex, stories of Tom and Michael on the streets of Ft. Worth and stories of many others scattered everywhere.  But till then I want you to share in the beauty of humility. It’s a beautiful thing when a wealthy person learns from someone poor. It’s a beautiful thing when a person is taught by one living in an oppressive situation.  Rich or poor, young or old, it’s time again to remember what we don’t know. It’s time again to learn that we still have much to learn. Together, the experience of brokenness and the wisdom of a solid life make beauty. Alone, they are incomplete.

It’s becoming common knowledge, but many don’t know so I’ll share it here. The Simple Way, most often associated with Shane Claiborne and the book Iresistable Revolution was swept up in a community fire. No one was hurt, but the communal living group and eight families lost their homes and many of their possessions. Read more and watch a video here.

Folks not familiar with the philosophy of the group may want to stop here. I’m not sure we all need to live out their principles in the way they do, but they do have worthwhile things to say.

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“Dying to self” is a common phrase in Christian-culture, but pastors and teachers really don’t explain it nearly often enough. Today, it means letting a room full of people greenlight about ideas that I’ve dreamed of doing, but haven’t been able to without saying “I thought of that first!” It’s not that fun. Guess that’s the whole point of the death metaphor, huh?

Powerful people harass me without cause,
but my heart trembles only at your word.
I rejoice in your word
like one who discovers a great treasure.
I hate and abhor all falsehood,
but I love your instructions.
I will praise you seven times a day
because all your regulations are just.
Those who love your instructions have great peace
and do not stumble.
I long for your rescue, Lord,
so I have obeyed your commands.
I have obeyed your laws,
for I love them very much.
Yes, I obey your commandments and laws
because you know everything I do

I am regularly struck by the great number of passages in the Bible that speak about peace in the middle of great frustration and true pain. There is still a lot of this that I’m learning to understand.

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This Saturday morning was yet another great day in a pretty cool week. My friend Mike and I headed to a part of Ft. Worth known as a hang-out for many of the city’s homeless people. It’s become the hub largely because three prominent shelters are all within a block of each other and because many churches come to the area to drop off food. “What part would God want us to play on Saturday mornings?” we wondered.

On what seemed a whim, my friend Mike struck up a conversation with some younger folks [1][2] who were obviously there to serve [3]. Turns out they were in close contact with a local church [4] in that neighborhood and came down every Saturday morning to build relationships and work towards longer-term solutions that many folks who brought food weren’t touching.

For the next three hours we hung out talking about the local situation, made new friends on the street, joined in on some impromptu singing, planned a mini-jam session next week, met their adopted grandpa in the woods and talked more with him and other friends over late breakfast. Who knows what next Saturday will hold, but we’re stoked. God is moving and I think we’re starting to get some glimpses of it.

I’ve blogged many times about the concept of “hope” and what it actually means. In a world marked with struggle, it can be an elusive thing. Perhaps we need to get our hands a bit more dirty and live life among hurting people more often to see hope played out. Perhaps God’s hope isn’t fully tangible unless we go to places where the pretension of “I’m fine” are dropped and we all admit the struggle that life really is, even in Christ.

I visited my friend Martin in prison again tonight. It was August a year ago that he was arrested nearly in front of me and I’ve been visiting the prison for about ten months now. I still remember the first time I went. Almost immediately, I was drawn into a circle of women who knew their way around things and exactly what I needed to do.

Every time I go back it’s the same. Black, White, Hispanic, rich, poor… for a few hours we’re all just waiting. A blind man strikes up a conversation and asks for help filling out his form. A young black woman asks the time and shares her frustration about a boyfriend or husband who keeps making her wait in places like this every time he runs foul of the law. Few share the superficial of name and place. Many are ready to talk about faith and life and frustration and hurt.

It’s these times when I’m happy to have my worn jeans, old t-shirt and worn sneakers. Here the poor white person is almost cliche and for a little while I’m quickly accepted. Here we care for each other regardless of race and sex.

You’ve heard me talking about this before, but today the M folk are pointing people back their way. Why not stop by and meet the fam?

for prostitution? Yes, sad but true. The Wendy’s behind this reporter is just down the street from my complex and part of the news story involved an officer questioning a person outside the exit gate of my complex. I actually saw this reporter’s team setting up their equipment on my way to the grocery store.

The police are now posting names, arrest locations and faces of those caught. Many of them are caught just down the same access road I live on. It’s not really news to anyone in Arlington that it’s a problem in this neighborhood. We have three or four run-down motels and easy access to the freeway.

So how do you demonstrate God’s love to the hurting people involved in this in healthy ways? I’m still not sure.

I love scheming for good causes. . .

It’s a personal joy of mine to poke at the corners of the world we don’t speak of ask often through Wikipedia and other online resources. I’ve satisfied myself with the understanding that I’ll never travel to all the places I want to go, but I can at least read of these places and, in prayer, have some connection with them.

Recently I found out about the pre-Taiwan peoples found in the region now known as Taiwan. The information Wikipedia is still sparse compared to the whole history of a people. And while they may not have swept across the plains of Europe or conquered vast lands in Asia, they have many deep stories to tell of sacrifice, of triumph, of loss and of great joy. Perhaps one day I’ll get to tell some of those stories on their behalf or perhaps those stories are already being told to tourists and making their way around the world. I’m curious. I should mention that this group is hardly monolithic. There are 13 large recognized groups, though these numbers are often fluid. The beauty of each is unique and valuable to God and to me.

 So why do I call them “family” and use the tag “my people?” I think they’re the first because many of them are trying to follow Christ (70% if reports are accurate). And I think they’re “my people” because we’re all human and creations of God in my understanding.

So much to share. So little time. Most days I’m running like crazy from early morning to late at night these days. At work we have tons of data issues to correct with our new website as is common. I also have to get moving on our next mini-magazine this month. In the evenings, I’m usually off to small group where we’re trying to build a community plan to serve the poor (twice a week), off to jail to visit a friend, off to some meeting, hanging out with some cool people or working late. As I shared with my friend in jail the other day, there are some great hopes for what the future might be.

A couple links you should check out:
Berry shares a great perspective on hope
Yes, it really is summer…
Like grandma used to make
The future?

So if you haven’t heard by now the Dallas Cowboys won the bid to host the next Super Bowl in a 2011.  And what many non-fans outside Texas probably don’t know is that the game is actually coming to the city of Arlington where I live. In fact, most Sundays I drive past the place it will be played on my way to Mosaic Arlington. I thought it was a bit cool to drive past the Ranger’s stadium most Sundays before this, but I never expected to live in the same town as the Cowboys too.

Good news keeps rolling in from my very cool friends who headed over to serve people facing AIDS/HIV in Jos, Nigeria alongside other friends and their org (website having problems right now). You should click that first link and read some of their stories.

The wind
My enemy and my friend
My muse
My dread
My sleepless night
Hidden force that brings the cool
Gentle arms that wrap with warmth
Twister’s father
Storm cloud’s mother
Bringing me closer to another
To share dark hours
To talk of things
That hide our fears
That mask in pride
The quaking heart
The lost control

Perhaps by now you’ve heard the story. A judge in the District of Columbia (that’s the D.C. of Washington, D.C.) is suing a Korean dry cleaning business for 65 million dollars over a series of dry cleaning errors. In addition to mental damages, he’s requesting they pay for a rental car so he can take his pants to another cleaner outside the community.

I’m hesitant to make some broad, sweeping statement about our culture, but this seems especially excessive. Something is wrong when a judge, who is supposed to represent justice and fair rulings, makes claims like this that clearly would put a person out of business over small matters.

This morning, as the day rolled out in my mind, I had a flash of memory. It was some time during my early childhood and I was at the old church helping my father, the youth pastor, get ready for Sunday by setting up tables and chairs. To be honest, most of those memories these days are only vaguely with me. Most times I see myself in the third persion, putting together a mini-play that helps me recapture at least the essence of time past. (Am I strange in not being able to see through my own eyes in my dreams?)

It struck me, as I remembered this, that I was blessed to have parents who taught me that life is about making a difference for other people. Fun and play were considered good, but making time to help others was a priority many times.

Still, I benefit from good reminders like this one by Keith Giles.  Maybe you would as well.

There are many tragedies in life. I was reminded of this by a number of recent blog posts by Adria [1] [2] and Gwen [1], recent events [1] [2] and the ongoing challenge of adequately serving the poor. And honestly, it can be overwhelming at times.

For so long many of us have been given shallow phrases that “everything will be alright” and implied statements that every single event is a good thing. How could we ever believe that? I want the hope that recognizes our world is broken and that God uses every situation for good for those who trust in God. I want more of a hope that has eyes to see hurting and the strong heart to encourage other people to act on those needs.

So what does being a voice of hope mean in these days? What does it mean to live a life of hope? I think I need to read up on that a bit more.

Do you have anything for me to read, to study or to look in life and on the web about true hope?

Late addition:
A timely related post by Chris

Learning to rest well is one of those lessons I’m still learning. So when a friend shared that rest days are crucial to a runner’s success in a charity run training e-mail I was intrigued. He explained more in a follow-up e-mail.

“Rest days are important in that they allow your body(muscles) to recover after a particularly hard run. Running puts a severe amount of stress on your body. Without rest days, your body is more prone to injury which means you will have many more unwanted rest days trying to heal, which means your training will suffer.

Your body will also try to compensate if you are running injured and your running form will change, which than can cause new problems. So in that context, rest days can be one of the most important part of your training, which is, avoiding injuries, which is key to running a successful marathon.”

I have to think there’s a lesson for me to learn here.

The soldiers were coming again. The grandparents in the village told stories of the Belgian rubber farms where friends lost limbs for working too slowly. The parents told stories of the southern provinces that tried to secede shortly after independence and the fighting that followed. A president murdered, foreign monies fueling conflict–it was tragic. And today they would have their story to tell. A story of how ethnic allegiances, an influx of refugees and armies from across the continent came crashing together in their fragile country and forced them to hide in the tall grass.

This past week I touched up a document about the country of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. If you haven’t read their history, you should sometime. Today, even with a moderate amount of peace in the country, another war is going on. AIDS has touched between 1% and 7% of the population (numbers vary widely at last census due in part to the conflict) of over 60 million people. Through it all, the church is pushing hard to share God’s love in some harsh conditions.

I very much want to comment on this great post Fiona wrote about the first chapter of The Divine Conspiracy, but I’m up to my neck in things today. Anyone want to stand in for me?

Some of you may be aware that I work for a global non-profit that helps people in other countries translate the Bible for their own people groups. A portion of my work is supported by some fine folks in Pennsylvania from my home town who I don’t communicate nearly enough with.

Today by linking with some of them via Facebook (and thereby this blog), I’m hoping to take another step towards recognizing all that they’ve meant to me and all that I’ve been able to do with their help, whether in Texas, California, Voxtropolis or around the world. All that to say, I hope you see a few new faces around here soon or can at least count a few more quiet visitors.

I’ve made attempts at a site focused on that relationship and my work here.
You can say hello via facebok here.

In doing this, I need to give the standard disclaimer. My words on this blog and in many places do not reflect the opinions of my workplace, my church or anyone but me. Take everything I say with a grain of salt. I think it’s healthy to ask many questions, and I’m very comitted to living out faith in Christ and loving people. They go hand-in-hand I think.

The conversation continues with a good article by Dawn at Relevant Magazine. You may find some of the earlier conversation familiar as she shared some or her thoughts in a comment on my last post. It’s a recurring topic for her. You should make a point to seriously read and not skim it though. There are some especially worthwhile quotes like this:

“The purpose of art is not necessarily to provide the answersâ€â€?it’s much more powerful to ask the questions and allow an audience to seek the answers themselves. Jesus promised that those who seek will find, and we should trust him. He meant it when he said it.”

In essence, Dawn suggests that art is sometimes the modern equivalent of the parable. It’s an interesting suggestion and perhaps one that’s not far from the mark.

It makes me think again about how we share truth in other contexts. In much of US Christian culture, preaching answers for specific problems has become paramount. There’s no question it’s valuable, modeled by many in the Bible and needed. Perhaps though it’s worthwhile to ask ourselves again: “Is this the right way to share truth here and now?” If we were in error in forcing all art to be expository then perhaps our mentoring relationships, our small groups or our discipling contexts need re-evaluation as well.

Join In:
What do you think of Dawn’s perspective in the article?
What place do you think parable-style teaching has in the current context you live in?

What blue moon day was the birth of deeper awareness? What sunrise marked the beginning? I hardly know. But knowing makes the difference. Knowing you don’t know changes the world.

Blowing breeze, the stir of a million invisible atoms, raises hairs and heightens moods. The grand becoming grandiose. The pain becomes growth. The Divine becoming The Source.

Gnarled bark, the battered armor that coats beauty, is beauty itself. It shows me the movement and the life in cold places. It helps me see beyond the shadow of skin and pain.

Cool water, the clear blood of earth, webs time. Ancient bathwater becomes sustenance. African, Asian, American — all drink from the same well… or don’t… and are shaped by it.

The great masters have claimed that open minds reveal hidden mysteries, but today I think they missed their mark. Open hearts change worlds.

Get Moving: It’s Adria’s birthday today. Make sure you stop by and share something encouraging — the more specific the better.

Looking up at the bottom of gray clouds carried here by the cold north winds, I can’t think of a time when the phrase has been more appropriate. I’ve been battling a cold for the past two weeks or so with varying degrees of intensity.

My most honest gut response is that I don’t need this. I’m in about the busiest period of my life to this point, personally, professionally and spiritually. But with equal honesty, I’m realizing today that I don’t really know if that’s true. Maybe I really do need to reminder that God is the one I need to rely on as I work these things out.

This morning, as I read the first portions of Sophocles’ Antigone, I stumbled upon a great quote. Isemene is speaking to her sister Antigone who is going to bury her dead brother, something the king refuses to allow and Isemene fears to do. As they part, Isemene praises her.

Go, if you must–Not to be checked in folly,
But sure unparalleled in faithful love!

Am I willing to do what seems foolish or wrong when a higher duty calls?

[start reading Antigone with me]
[read more about Antigone]
[read more about Sophocle]

The lines aren’t quite right, but I was trying to capture the squares that I saw here. The suggested absence of the fourth side was something I haven’t seen in previous trips. How often do we only realize the absence of things after multiple visits? How often do we make time for multiple visits so that we can see what isn’t immediately obvious?

As I explored the DFW Metroplex a bit more today, I came across the Garden of Angels in Hurst, a city north of Arlington. This hill was the site of a tragic murder of a 19-year-old girl. Today, many others are buried alongside her in tribute.

It’s a bit unnerving to walk amongst the graves of young children, which I guess, is a sign that I’m mentally stable. And to think, many more children than this are dying each day as child soldiers and due to drought and malnutrition.

There’s something about a dark, empty office that feels like home to me some nights. It’s late Thursday and I have no particular place to be so I’ve turned on the music, turned down the lights and I’m happily typing away. It’s the click of the keys. It’s the sound of music on cheap speakers. It’s me reliving late nights sitting in the church office with my dad.

That’s the way it is for me. Home isn’t a place. It isn’t a city or a state or a country. It’s a late night drive on a dark, winding road. It’s a late night at the office. It’s watching old movies on network television. It’s talking with my family. It’s laughing with my friends. It’s getting the job done for hurting people.

It’s been a week full of heavy thinking for me as I experience some healthy adjustments in the life of Mosaic and work. New leaders are taking their place in both worlds and it’s high time to ponder the future with their help. Sadly, this means that one more post is added to the “Drafts” pile. Expect a post or more on contemplative practices and meditation sometime soon here.

Your Drafts: Intimate Divinity: , Knowing God, Post # 351, madness and inspiration, Sweet Overdrive, Now this is an excellent prank, Word Count: -89, More Stories, Passing Around the Voxtropolis Albums, Focus, Letting Others Lead Pt 2, Christmas Ponderings Among Friends, Separated at Birth?, Strength in Our Weakness, “Needs” , and 6 more » .

Till then, continue to enjoy some good music with me. And certainly, if you know the purpose of my my personal journey or the next step I should take in any one of a number of areas, feel free to share, ha.

To walk uninhibited and free in all rain
To journey close beside my friends at all times
To keep constant eye on danger for us all
To swim and to eat with no care for time
To fly and to go there
Wherever that is

The Conversation Continues
There are a couple streams of discussion about creativity and faith weaving their way through the blogosphere that you should take the time to read. Joshua Blankenship, a talented designer, opened up a can of worms that has quite a few diverse opinions on the matter. Benjamin carried on the conversation with good results here. And our good friend, Lon, is gearing up for some thoughtful discussion. If you’re joining in, you should read up on L’Engle’s Walking on Water. Among the great many books on the subject of faith and art, I think it stands out.

Are Joy and Conflict Exclusive?
Of particular interest to me is a comment in the Blankeship discussion that asked the question. If we are supposed to be a people of faith and joy, do we still have a responsibility to write about the raw and broken? Or is our responsibility to write about that joy and the coming good we pursue and hope for?

I tend to think that we have to speak about the struggle to reach hope and joy just as much as we speak about hope and joy as a core part of our audience should be people still wondering if those concepts really exist? How about you?

It’s hardly a new quote, but it’s a great one:

“Where there is no love, nothing is possible.”

Patrick Stewart, though most known to many of us for a Star Trek television series, is a great Shakespearean actor. In these two videos, he demonstrates how actors can lend different meanings to the same words through tone and timing.