Dreaming with Daniel

Community on Pilgrimage: LA/Tijuana Trip Part 1

2010-01-31T12:18:00.006-05:00

It's been a week since Kristin and I reentered our cold home in Indianapolis after our journeys in Los Angeles and Tijuana, Mexico. To give you a short background, our trip was a pilgrimage trip which I'd like to quickly differentiate from a mission trip. Parker Palmer gives a good insight into pilgrimage for us that I was privileged to ponder on our outbound flight to LA.

"... The ancient tradition of pilgrimage is a transformative journey to a sacred center full of hardships, darkness, and peril. In the tradition of pilgrimage, these hardships are not seen as accidental but as integral to the journey itself. Treacherous terrain, bad weather, taking a fall, getting lost - challenges of that sort, largely beyond our control, can strip the ego of the illusion that it is in charge and make space for true self to emerge. If that happens, the pilgrim has a better chance to find the sacred center he or she seeks. Disabused of our illusions by much travel and travail, we awaken one day to find that the sacred center is here and now - in every moment of the journey, everywhere in the world around us, and deep within our own hearts." Palmer, Let Your Life Speak, pp. 17-18.

I feel like I need a couple days to sit on this quote, don't you? It is a beautiful description of this sort of journey. In contrast to this, a mission trip is about a group who goes to a domestic or international place to complete a mission for them, typically work projects. I believe that mission trips can be beneficial if done right, but it's important to differentiate our trip because it wasn't about completing projects for others. While we helped several people we met with a few projects, the focus of our trip was to have eyes to see and ears to hear the people, places, and things we encountered, and in the midst of this the Sacred Center, which for us is the homeless savior, Jesus.

Remember the bad weather and getting lost portion of Palmer's description? Yeah, we experienced this directly after we collected our bags at LAX. No one in our twelve person group had navigated the city-unto-itself airport enough to find the city bus stop which is where we needed to catch a bus to downtown. After standing at the wrong bus stop for thirty plus minutes we got the gumption to ask around, only to be given the answers by a driver of the wrong bus who acted annoyed by our touristy ignorance. Another 30 minutes passed in waiting and taking the short trip on an airport shuttle to the correct bus stop. The group of benches and signs under a small shelter had enough covering to keep us from being soaked head-to-toe by el niño (Spanish for 'the niño!'), but not enough to keep us dry from the rain traveling sideways because of the fierce winds. Our bus pulled up at 1:55, only 51 minutes after it's scheduled departure of 1:04, and we were off to downtown LA.

Following a slight drying of our clothes on the bus, we embarked on a short walk which took us directly through what's known as Skid Row to Union Rescue Mission. Our leader, Larry, who would join us midweek for the Tijuana portion of the trip, had told us to ask for the volunteer director, that we would be serving meals, doing food preparation, and sleeping on the roof. The limited information we received for this as well as for our travel meant we had to figure stuff out and make decisions on our own as a group. It proved to be a good process for the twelve of us. And we miraculously did it with little tension and no conflict that was mentioned at least! Although much of Larry's style throughout our time as a group has been to purposefully not communicate plans until the last minute, this was the first time this happened that we were without him. In retrospect I'm quite proud of our group for the way we figured things out, relied on each other, and dealt with tension by good communication. It was a good reminder of why we pursue community with one another.

Community on pilgrimage, the title of this blog, is what I am describing here. What we recognized when the weather was wet and the way wasn't clear was that we have each other. What we've been told in these circumstances is that you have yourself and that is enough (and today yourself is not only you but whatever information-giving device you possess to show you how to find cover and where to go). I firmly believe that the way is too much to handle on our own. This is why in this particular moment Angela, Graham, Kristin, and I had homemade muffins to go around and temporarily fill the food lack until dinner. Shawn, Nick, and Jesse were incredibly good at making us laugh. Jeff and Brian pitched in to help me ensure we were going the right direction. Kari and Kayla were taking pictures of our wet group and smiling at the results. Then there was Tom, who was quiet and fatherly, waiting patiently for the late bus to arrive (while the kids impatiently went nuts). All uniquely ourselves but all in for the journey together, unwilling to go onward alone. Because of this we got a glimpse into the aforementioned Sacred Center that we'd run into several times in our travels.

Provision: An Oh Nine Reflection

2010-01-01T12:47:00.008-05:00

"God will provide" has become a buzz phrase in the Christian culture. At times it has become a platitude for the person who wants to say something but not do anything for those suffering from financial or other woes. As I'm in the middle of looking through the rear view mirror of my/our life in 2009, God's provision keeps surfacing. The aforementioned phrase hasn't just been a buzz but appears to have been truth for us. Whether it was the provision of our family and friends to bring, feed, and house nearly 200 people in Indianapolis for our wedding festivities, a random 500 dollar check showing up in our door the day our rent was due and we didn't have enough during Kristin's unemployment, Kristin getting what she describes as her dream job at the right time, or the provision we've received since I took a step of faith away from my stable job to the unknown, it's hard to argue with the truth of the phrase. At the same time, I find myself reasoning away that it was by forces other than God at work by which we survived and thrived. In other words, I try to use logic to explain away the reality of God's provision. I'm not too proud of this, but I think it's important to genuinely bring this wrestling before those with whom I am in closest relationship. Let me unpack:

Logic #1 - First off, we have family and friends who care incredibly for our wellbeing and have known our needs in the previous year and responded accordingly with great generosity. They have the ability to do this because they are in the richest nation the world has ever seen and in the top 1% of wealth of the world's population. This in no way is to downplay their sacrificial generosity, but to speak to the reality of where we live and the monetary success existent despite the economic recession of 2009. In other words, I can tie the money given to us to people with whom we are in relationship and in most cases tell you how that money came to them (jobs, investments, etc.).

Logic #2 - Because of #1, I ask the question of why would God not be more concerned in his provision for his children around the world who are not surrounded by the wealth that we are? Couldn't the thousands of dollars be given instead to those who need it more than us? I mean, if these thousands of dollars weren't provided, we would have other options - moving in with friends or family, selling our many possessions, attempting to get more lucrative employment, food stamps, etc. These are other options that the majority of the world's population do not have. While I'm grateful we've been able to reside and eat in our warm or cool house depending on the season, I'm bothered that there are homeless or foodless who follow after the same God we do who appear not to be provided for as generously as we are.

Logic #3 - Because of #2, I wonder if I am falsely throwing around God's name for this provision because I want to raise myself up as a spiritually attuned person who is favored by God more than others.

I have to say it hurts to even ask these questions. I am exposing an ugly part of myself to you readers, some of whom have been the generous folks who felt led by the Spirit of God to give to us. But isn't it only by doubt and questions that we can come to a more genuine faith? Because I'm wrestling with the unbelief that God didn't provide this money, I think my belief will in turn be stronger that God DID provide. What I believe right now is that God did provide for us, miraculously as some of the stories revealed and also through generous people who were moved by His Spirit. But it just doesn't make sense sometimes because I feel so out of whack and not spiritual most days. I wish that God would use the energy that's put toward us to rescue His children from slavery and sex trafficking. I'm just an out-of-control, bumbling idiot who doesn't deserve God's provision or any sort of grace. I feel like a lazy son of a bitch who doesn't have a job and is living off of other people's gifts. Yet somehow through this doubt and wrestling, the Spirit is showing me that the life we're leading is the way of Jesus for us in this moment in time. That although I feel like I should just suck it up and get a job like everyone else, The Spirit is revealing this thread of provision in 2009 to remind me that where we are at is right and good. That despite my many shortcomings and failures to perform in the way I feel like I should, God's grace is real and pursuing me with fury.

For these reasons, I'm thankful to God for this immense grace that I want to deny for the logic above but am moved to receive instead. I'm grateful for our community, the hands and feet of Christ, who have believed in me, believed in Kristin, and believed in us enough to give of your time, energy, heart, and money to see that we continue on the path of life on which God has called us. And I'm thankful for 2009 and the Ebenezer it is now in my memory due to the incredible stories of heartache, celebration, freedom from bondage, and the belief that God will truly provide. To 2010 we forge ahead with this recognition, and because of it, risky courage to continue. And it's in this risky courage that we pour our lives out for those who I mentioned earlier, many who have no one fighting for them besides their Creator (who is quite the Advocate by the way). Please join us.

Remember! Ebenezers and Cairns

2009-12-20T14:08:00.007-05:00

“Samuel took a single rock and set it upright between Mizpah and Shen. He named it “Ebenezer” (Rock of Help), saying, “This marks the place where God helped us.” 1 Samuel 7:12, The Message, by Eugene Peterson

Cairn |ke(ə)rn|

noun

1 a mound of rough stones built as a memorial or landmark, typically on a hilltop or skyline.

• a prehistoric burial mound made of stones.

Entry from New Oxford American Dictionary.

“Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by thy help I come. And I hope by thy good pleasure safely to arrive at home. Jesus sought me when a stranger wandering from the fold of God. He to rescue me from danger, interposed his precious blood.”

“Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing,” Originally composed by Robert Robinson.

When Samuel raised the Ebenezer, he was remembering the Lord’s deliverance of the Israelites from the hand of the Philistines. “Thus far has the Lord helped us,” it is translated in the TNIV. Originating in the Gaelic tradition, a cairn is similar to the Ebenezer. It is built as a memorial of one who has passed, an event, or a landmark showing the path. A cairn also signifies a remembering like the Ebenezer, where one commemorates an accomplishment and offers thanks by way of the physical symbol. In my recent summit of the highest point in New York State, Mt. Marcy, cairns were placed to show the path up the snowy pass above the tree line. Eyes fixed on the cairns, we were led to take the most direct path up the icy rock face.

We find ourselves in the season of Advent, where we remember the events surrounding the birth of Jesus. All of the stories, prophecies, and symbols of the season have been Ebenezers or cairns for 2000 plus years. They commemorate the immaculate birth and person of Jesus. They also remember the hardship surrounding this event: the shame Joseph had to work through that his 14-year-old fiancée was pregnant; Herod’s genocide of all boys Jesus’ age, therefore prompting Jesus’ parents to flee to Egypt for protection; and a stable filled with animal droppings is not the most comfortable or sanitary place to give birth to a child! Yet, as we celebrate this season, we raise an Ebenezer to remember God’s overcoming of these trials through the miraculous birth and life of Jesus.

As Advent prompts us to remember these events, it also prompts us to remember the happenings of the previous year of our lives. What are your cairns or Ebenezers from 2009? How have you been shaped through the events, celebratory or painful, or both? When did you feel joyful and content and when did you feel angry and despairing? Do you look back on these various events and emotional seasons with gratitude or regret? Why? How was your relationship with Jesus impacted or changed by these moments? Do you feel like you made strives forward in that relationship, stayed in the same place, or fell backward?

We must take the time to answer these questions before we look ahead to the New Year. Answering these questions is placing a metaphorical cairn in our memory to remind us of the happenings of 2009. And maybe it would be beneficial for you to gather rocks from your yard and build a physical cairn and scratch 2009 into it. Whether or not you’ve come to a place of resolve with these things and their impact on your life, this cairn will remind you of the event’s significance in who you were, are, and are becoming. You can then go back to it when you face a similar moment in the future and be reminded of what happened in the past. Through this process of invoking the good and the ugly of this last year, I would hope you then can honestly sing the song mentioned earlier: “Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by thy help I come. And I hope by thy good pleasure safely to arrive at home. Jesus sought me when a stranger wandering from the fold of God. He to rescue me from danger, interposed his precious blood.”

Advent Reflection #1

2009-12-07T09:13:00.004-05:00

A little Advent reflection that happened upon me on this past Saturday:

Several minutes before 9 am on Saturday morning, I lumbered out of my car to the front step of the Porch's building. I did not want to be there as I had returned the night before from a tiring backpacking trip that ended in 18 hours of driving. But I knew I needed to be there for reasons I knew and didn't know. The occasion was a group from our sending church, Trinity, graciously offered to serve us as we prepare our building to be a place of refuge for us and our neighbors in Fountain Square. Today it would be a painting party that ended with an authentic Mexican lunch from our neighbors at Armandos. Because the door was locked and nobody there, I sat down on the front step of the building and immediately realized that with my full post-backpacking beard and double work flannels, I could easily be perceived as a man who found temporarily lodging on the front step. I chuckled as I thought of the perceptions of those I know and didn't know from Trinity driving up and seeing me on the step. And I also remembered that Jesus didn't have a home so I was in solidarity with him.

Once the laughter subsided, I had this sense that I have to admit is rare because of my busy mind and fast life - God, not in an audible voice, but in an obvious nudge of my spirit pointed me to open up my Bible and go to Isaiah 58. In my stubborn weariness, I sensed the Spirit pushing me to share this with the group later in the day. They all arrived and we laid out the painting plans as well as encouraged folks to take a break and walk prayerfully around the neighborhood.

As we finished what was a successful and helpful time of work, we gathered to reflect on the day, especially the times people had praying in the streets and throughout the building. There were some incredible words of encouragement, challenge, and prophecy spoke, specifically regarding how our people and place can and will be used for the good of God's Kingdom in Fountain Square. And then came the words from Isaiah 58, specifically 6-12:

⁶ "Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?

⁷ Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

⁸ Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.

⁹ Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
"If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

¹⁰ and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.

¹¹ The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.

¹² Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

Earlier in this passage Isaiah calls out the people of Israel whose spiritual practice of fasting had become one that leads to discord between themselves and oppression of others. Their call to be the light to the nations was compromised because of the darkness they had created and were creating by their actions. So, Isaiah above lays out the fast that pleases God and prompts Him to intervene for the good of His people.

While we weren't literally fasting during this time, this passage was a combination of admonishment and promise to those of us who had worked, walked, and prayed that morning. We were literally in the midst of rebuilding an ancient ruin, raising up the age-old foundations with our work. The paint being lathered on the walls made us repairers of broken walls, and we were restorers of streets with dwellings because of our prayerful and peaceful steps walked in the neighborhood. What I then realized was that we cannot be called these things truthfully unless our activities, our worship gatherings, our spiritual disciplines, and our pursuit of community are done in accord and alongside of the just and merciful way of Jesus: loosing the chains of injustice, untying the cords of the yoke, setting the oppressed free, sharing our food with the hungry, providing the poor wanderer with shelter, clothing the naked, and not turning away from our own flesh and blood.

This Advent, we have the chance to prepare the way of the Lord by our activities and actions. Yet I, and we as the Church, still buy into the Christmas where we light the advent candles, read the Scriptures of prophecy of Jesus, sing the carols, attend the Christmas Eve service, yet my/our actions do the exact opposite of what Jesus brought, brings, and is bringing. By our excessive gift-giving, decorating, and gorging of food among other things, we tighten the chains of injustice, tie the cords of the yoke, further imprison the oppressed, hoard our food and overeat, neglect the poor wanderer on our way to our gas heated homes, buy more clothes for ourselves that were made in sweatshops by the naked, turning away from others and focusing on ourselves. I'd like to believe there is another way besides this, because I've tasted it in the last couple years as I've attempted to divest from the unjust ways of Christmas. To be the "spring whose waters never fail" we must drink from the living water, Jesus, who this holiday remembers, expects, hopes for, and celebrates. And this is not done only with the words we read, we sing, or we speak at Christmastime. These words in themselves are hollow without actions. The most helpful website I've found for these actions is Advent Conspiracy: http://www.adventconspiracy.org/. Watch the video on the main page, browse the site, and ask the Spirit to lead you and your family/community to the further actions they encourage. And encourage and challenge friends, families, and strangers to do the same.

A Weekend's Irony

2009-11-22T19:47:00.004-05:00

I found this last weekend ironic. Let me tell you why:

Friday and Saturday:
We attended a conference at Englewood Christian Church here in Indianapolis called "Through the Consuming Fire: Economic Faithfulness in an Age of Consumerism." The conference focused on how biblically we as the church are to respond to the over-consumption epidemic and gave some prophetic and practical tools as to how this can be lived. This season, more than ever in my life, the amount that we consume as North Americans has disturbed me immensely. This is probably because in the training school of which I am a part we've watched various films or short videos that reveal the monstrosity of the problem and its effects on us and the future generations to come. And then came this conference which further exposed me to the detriments of over-consumption but opened me up to the way people locally and globally are radically living against this strong force.

Saturday night:
After leaving the conference one discussion early and taking a much needed power nap, at 5:30 pm my church community of 30 strong gathered at our old store front property in the Fountain Square Neighborhood. At this building, formerly known as Tobacco 4 Less, there was caution tape around the area where our church's skilled laborers are installing bathrooms, framing up walls, and hanging drywall. We are taking a building that looks nothing like what you'd think of a traditional or contemporary church and making our best efforts to transform it into a place of refuge for us and our neighbors. This building was forgotten, yet because of the sweat and toil of many laborers it's being restored into a welcoming place to all walks of life. In the midst of the chaos of this building off the main street in Fountain Square, we focused on the slowness and peace that characterizes the advent season thanks to our friend Kelly Mitchell. She reminded us that Jesus' birth wasn't about fanfare but was a simple yet glorious happening. Our practice of remembering this event on the Christmas holiday in the U.S. has become twisted into disgusting consumerism, yet we have the opportunity to restore what is forgotten as Advent commences this coming weekend.

Sunday:
Still deeply thinking and conversing about consumerism with others and then BOOM! Kristin's parents are not feeling well and can't go to use their Colts season tickets for the Colts vs. Patriots Sunday night game, so they offer us the tickets to sit 22 rows up behind the Patriots bench on the 35 yard line. I don't know if any of you could have thought of a more ironic juxtaposition - going from the constant thoughts and conversations about curbing our personal and corporate consumption followed by personal attendance of a NFL game. And not just any game... according to people who care more about football than we do, claims were being made that this was the most important game of the NFL regular season. And it proved to be one of the most dramatic games ever in the fourth quarter, ending in a narrow Colts comeback victory that brought an incredible electricity to the stadium and the streets we walked returning to our car. Although I found myself intent on watching the game and the sideline antics of the Patriots players (especially Tom Brady), over-consumption was in the air. From the game's inception at 8:20 until the game's end close to 12 pm, people all around were endlessly eating and drinking stadium food and "pee beer" (I'll let you guess why I call it that). Included in the eating was Kristin and me splurging on a $3.50 soft pretzel! Throughout the game messages were telling us that we needed to buy this or do these things to enhance our life. And we were sitting in a one-year-old stadium funded mostly by taxpayer dollars, which reveals our absurd entertainment priorities as a culture.

Although the game was exciting and fun to be at live, I was disturbed that the things of over-consumption I've described in relation to the game have become norm in our culture. That the over-consumption of food, alcohol, and other consumer goods is now what defines us. And then my attention was brought back to the season we're entering into and why we celebrate it - Jesus was born to a 14 year old girl in a farm stable in no-man's land, a reality that is completely other than what I had just experienced.

May this juxtaposition be for us a reality we face this Advent, maybe not to the extreme I have. And at the same time let it be a reminder of the accessibility of Jesus if instead of fast we choose slow; if instead of more we rest in enough; and instead of being over-consumers we become consumed by what Jesus' birth represents (love, justice, peace, freedom, reconciliation, shalom, etc.)

And check back for more posts in this light over the next month.

Airplane Disturbances

2009-09-23T08:17:00.007-04:00

Disturbance #1: There is a distinct culture on airplanes that disturbs me. It's as if our sense of entitlement is contained into a small space and you cannot escape it's foul aroma. Because you can't open a window and air out the stench, it sits with you and becomes annoyingly normal to the point where you begin thinking and speaking it. In this case as I flew to visit my parents, I found myself thinking the same sort of entitlement thoughts that my co-flyers were uttering. We had just landed at Washington D.C.'s Dulles Airport and headed towards our gate several minutes earlier than scheduled. Most of us, including me, were heading to another terminal and another gate to catch our connecting flight to our final destination. We pulled up to our gate only to find it occupied, which usually means we sit on the tarmac for 5-10 minutes until the departing flight pulls out of the gate. Instead, as we found out from our flight attendant, our gate was switched to a completely different terminal on the opposite side of the airport. A vocal and quite unified moan echoed throughout the plane. Internally I wrestled with the inconvenience of the situation due to my short time to get off of this flight and to my next one: "Why couldn't the pilot have communicated to the airport staff before we taxied to the occupied gate? It would have saved us so much time!" We slowly got to the next gate and after quickly exiting, boarding a shuttle to a different terminal, walking the length of that terminal to the gate for my connecting flight, I made it with only a few minutes to spare. Phewww, that was close.

As I boarded the next flight the absurdity of the prior situation entered my mind. We just traveled 600 miles in a little over an hour and we are complaining about an extra 10-15 minutes in the plane. I'm openly admitting that my consideration that this was inconvenient equals pathetic. I should have been more concerned with the nature of my fast-paced lifestyle that exploits the earth and treats anyone who interrupts or slows me down with disdain rather than respect and love. Or maybe I should have been considering how flying is a club that values the "haves" (those who can afford to fly) and excludes the "have-nots" unless a generous person purchases their ticket. My/our sense of entitlement from the "have" club demands efficiency and comfortability above all else. It's a slap in the face to the way of life that values loving God and loving others above all else. I was convicted of this and vowed that I would enter my next flight in a posture that attempted to value love over and above entitlement. This admonishment led me into...

Disturbance #2:
I was one of the last on the next plane to Raleigh that is barely half full. I noticed that there was only one man occupying the exit row of 10 seats in total, so I took a more spacious row to myself despite the fact that this wasn't my assigned seat. I didn't think twice about it because it was obvious that 9 more people were not going to board the flight and all sit in this area. I was right, and nobody sat in my row or any of the exit row for that matter. As we were about to leave the gate a man who appeared to be of African descent left his crowded row in the back of the plane to sit in the exit row across from me. The flight attendant quickly approached him to inform, "If you want to sit here you have to pay $40 so I would suggest moving back to your original seat." He responds, "Well, I don't want to pay $40 so I will move back." He packed his bag up quickly and moved back to his more crowded area.

This angered me. What the flight attendant failed to recognize was that I never paid the $40 to sit in more comfort, so I was committing the same offense as this man. I want to assume that she thought I belonged there and it was obvious that he didn't because he moved from his original seat. At the same time I thought about how he was black and I was white, he had to move to the less comfortable seat in the back while I remained in comfort towards the front. My heart of justice cried out at this moment but my mouth did not utter words of injustice to the flight attendant nor the man who faced this. I watched him move and her walk away and wrote this down: "I am asking, you, Jesus, right now what you would do or what you would say in this situation, while being treated like a have and watching another be treated as a have-not. Would you say something regarding the injustice of the situation? Would you fight for the man to remain seated there or quietly move yourself back to your assigned seat which was more crowded and strike up a conversation with those seated next to you? I have to say that I'm quite content only writing about it, and not, I'm not going to say something or move. I'm quite content in my indivudual row of comfort - and there was just an announcement that I am now required to stay in my seat with my seatbelt fastened, so I would be breaking the rules if I was to move to my assigned seat."

I'm disturbed by my reactions to two disturbing situations. Certainly they were not life or death, but my reactions reflected death more than they did life. What I am slowly learning is to have eyes to see and ears to hear like Jesus did and like Jesus does if I am to listen to the Spirit. It's not comfortable, but I'm beginning to recognize that the way of Jesus is quite uncomfortable and disturbing most of the time.

Pilgrims in Toronto Part 1 – To Be (Un)Known

2009-09-03T17:08:00.001-04:00

One week ago today I returned from Toronto, Ontario that commenced a new beginning for me. For those of you with whom I haven’t talked in awhile, I’ve committed the next nine months to the “Kingdom Living Training School” through Common Ground Christian Church, a sister church to ours in Indy. This is a school purposed to nurture and hone the gifts that God has given us through dialogue, prayer, teaching, serving, retreating, and engaging in missionally-minded trips to Toronto, Ontario and Tijuana, Mexico among other local places. You can find out more by visiting the website at http://www.cground.org/Training_School_89e1e19be358e148.html/. KLTS also includes part-time work here in Indianapolis where we can use our gifts practically. Ultimately, I believe that this training will allow Jesus and others to impart a further understanding of who I am created to be, I will walk with others in that process, and because of this we will be released together to radically alter the spiritual landscape of the Church of Indianapolis. Hit me up with more questions about the school and about the direction my life is going.

So as for Toronto…After a long day’s drive we settled into our simple accommodations, only to later be unsettled by the reality of homelessness in what I believe is the largest city in Toronto. It’s not that any of us didn’t expect to have encounters with those without homes; in fact, we were anticipating these to be frequent. Allow me take you to the scene of our first encounter: There’s a quick passageway from Dundas Square, aka Toronto’s small version of NYC’s Times Square, to a quiet rectangle adjacent to the gorgeous church building of Trinity Church (forget the denomination but should we care?). The passageway is through the Eaton Centre, which is the shopping mall central of downtown Toronto. Although the beats of music from Dundas can be heard faintly, there is a calm and silence over this refuge. Our guide, Larry, begins to tell of Trinity and their mission, and my eyes wander for a moment to an advertisement on a building’s north wall of an overly made-up woman promising that if we purchase the product she is wearing that we will be as attractive as her. Chuckling inside at the absurdity of the ad and its juxtaposition to our current locale, I refocus my attention to the conversation.

Larry brings our attention to a small bulletin board with glass covering the front. On this board are numerous sheets of regular paper, the first a two- paragraph description from Trinity indicating that this is a memorial for all the homeless people who have passed away since the 1970s. The other sheets are filled with years, specific dates, and names of the specific homeless man or woman who passed away. Several people stayed and read the memorial while others of us scattered around to seek moments of solitude after a day full of conversation and noise. Adequate time passed for me to quiet my heart and mind before I entered into the memorial, which I approached with a somber curiosity. Two things jumped out and grabbed me – the first being the amount of John and Jane Doe’s that were listed indicating that some died without a name to the people who found them dead and no family or friends to know that they had died. The second was a divine nudge I had to seek somebody out who had passed on my birthday, September 26th. I started in 1984 when I was born and browsed until the year 2000 when I found someone who died on my birthday.

His name was James Haine. Here’s what I wrote about James and the John and Jane Doe’s after I left the memorial with grief and leaned myself against the concrete wall of the Eaton’s Centre’s north end:
“James Haine, you died on my 16th birthday. You died homeless while my friends, parents, and grandparents celebrated my further passage into adulthood. I was showered with gifts by many while you, probably unknown and disregarded my most, fell out of this life into another. What is it like to be unknown? As we walked the streets of Toronto today, I’m disturbed by this disparity between the known and the unknown. I am known, the members of this group are known by many and becoming known to the group while we pass person after person who are unknown by most. It is a fundamental longing for a human to be known. Not just a longing but a genuine need and a fundamental one at that. How did you, James, and your brothers and sisters without a roof over your heads, live knowing that you would die unknown?”

This question brought me much grief. Because I listened to this grief in Toronto, I was able to more genuinely enter into solidarity with the people for whom I believe Jesus had a special affection – the homeless, addicted, poor, prostitutes, disregarded, disenfranchised, and unknown. I was reminded by Larry and now that I reflect on my experience my memory is evoked of the posture Jesus took toward the unknown and disregarded in comparison to the religious. It’s painted for us clearly in John 8:1-11 – Jesus is teaching outside the temple and the Pharisees drag in an adulterous woman. They cite their laws that require them to stone this woman to death, yet Jesus challenges them, “If any of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” They all leave yet Jesus remains, comforting her in the reality that she is not condemned, but forgiven and given another chance. As they leave the scene, I imagine Jesus looking into her eyes with great compassion declaring, “Go now and leave your life of sin.” While the religious desire to end this woman’s life so they don’t have to live with her uncleanness, Jesus sees into who she is and exemplifies a new way of life that I like to think is about knowing – her knowing Jesus while being known by Jesus more intimately than her husband or the other men she gave herself to sexually. This knowing is what Jesus asks of us – for us to know him, to be known by him, and know others in that way as well. It is a fundamental need of humanity.

Post Canyon Reflection #2 - Danger!

2009-06-24T12:58:00.001-04:00

DISCLAIMER: In writing this post I by no means am attempting to put myself up on a pedestal, saying “Look at me, I’m dangerous! I just hiked 60 miles in a desert canyon and survived the elements with ease.” If after reading this you sense otherwise, for example an unnecessary pride in my reflections, then please don’t hesitate to talk with me about it. What I’m interested in primarily is having an inner reflection that will hopefully lead to some dialogue about our culture’s idea of danger. My overall hypothesis can be found in these steps: a) Our culture has become preoccupied with danger, therefore we create safe havens to protect ourselves from danger; b) These refuges provide supposed protection from dangerous weather, people, activities, ideologies, and other dangerous things that we feel will harm us; c) Because of the walls built up around us we feel on the surface safe, protected, and comfortable, but we don’t experience life in the fullest sense because we are not exposed to the elements of sorts. And let’s be honest, most of these strongholds we build are figments of our imagination anyway because they tend to implode with relational conflict, non-conformists, fires, and tornadoes (both literal and figurative I might add).

All these thoughts came to me because I ran into somebody during my daily activities the day after I returned from trekking the canyon. We got into a conversation and he found out where I had been for the previous week. He had particular interest in the Utah area because a friend had asked him to do some lighter hiking with him in the fall in some backcountry areas. As he was asking me all sorts of questions about our trip, I began to notice a look on his face that I interpreted as “I can’t believe you would do something like that and you’re certainly deterring me from going to Utah.” My interpretation was accurate as he commented, “That’s really dangerous!” after finding out we were enclosed by canyon walls and had meager opportunity to hike out to “safety,” escaped the wrath of a flash flood by just two hours, and faced challenging stretches of being parched between natural springs to refill our water. I’m not trying to be difficult and claim that what we did was not dangerous; what I am claiming is intrigue of his reaction that represents for me our culture at large. And I can honestly say that when we were hiking, my reactions to the three things I mentioned were far different from this man’s.

So, “what were your reactions to these situations, Dan?” is probably what you’re asking. To respond to that I think you need to enter into the stories of this adventure. First, for the flash flood: we were perched on a sandy hill ready for slumber on our second night, when Andrew noticed the sound of rushing waters and yelled to the rest of us to listen and watch. We stood on the hill overlooking the river as the flash flood waters deepened and widened the Paria River, which in a matter of seconds was transformed from a glorified creek into a rushing river. My first reaction was excitement as Aram and I rapidly descended the hill to watch it more closely. Our trip down the hill raised our awareness of the proximity of Graham and Angela’s campsite to the rushing waters, so we quickly helped them move camp up the hill and away from the risk of their gear and food washing away. Finally, as the waters died down and we settled into our shelters, our final reaction was one of thankfulness to the Creator for protecting us. We had exited the narrow pass of the Buckskin Gulch just hours before the floodwaters furiously passed through, and they would have been fatal or injurious floodwaters if we’d been present. Instead we were able to marvel in the majesty of mother earth and her Creator.

So what was it like to be surrounded by the inescapable walls of the Paria Canyon, which at times in the beginning were only two feet from each other? My first response that I believe was echoed by our group was that of awe. At times while walking through the narrow sections there were trees suspended between the red rock walls; trees that had been washed out by a mighty flood and stuck high above because the walls’ pass was too narrow for it to fall to the muddy ground. How can you not enter into amazement of the earth and the processes it goes through to suspend a tree sideways, while the floodwaters paint the walls different colors and shapes? I posit that you cannot cease to be amazed. Sure, the curiosity of what we would do if one of us got injured certainly passed through my mind, but those thoughts were quickly replaced by the awe of a new sight to take in or another moment to listen to the sound of silence. There was also a profound element of companionship and community that helped minds exit a potentially claustrophobic situation and enter into conversations about the sights or heart reflections evoked by the retreat from our culture’s clamor.

Finally, the piece about dehydration –when you’re relying on springs, have the potential of carrying a maximum of one gallon of water, and on the brink of summer in the desert, you’re going to be thirsty. And yes, we were constantly thirsty. At one spring when I was feeling more hydrated than I had been but not overly hydrated, I thought it would be good to drink a half gallon of water in a few minutes and then fill my bottles up to last for the next 24 hours. After the instant onset of a stomachache I felt more hydrated than I had for most of the trip. This was until the last day where we were hiking through pure desert back to our vehicle, all hikers starting with 3/4 gallon of water at 9 am. By 3 pm or so most of us had depleted our water supply, felt severe thirst, and still had 2 hours to hike through the hottest stretch of our 60 miles. Desperation sunk in as we came to a crossing in the muddy river and all of us proceeded to sit or lie down and drench ourselves with the waters of the Paria. It felt like true refreshment as I was transformed from hot and thirsty to cool and soaking wet! To top it off, Graham pulled out his super water-treating pen and began treating muddy river water with which several of us had filled a Nalgene. After the treatment was over, we tasted our water that Kristin described best as tasting like the bottom of a pool – chlorinated with a touch of sediment. Not tasty, but at least it was wet as they say. This carried us to our parked van where we were met at the ranger station with technology – spickets, sinks, and water fountains.

Returning to this man’s reaction of “That is dangerous,” it’s almost as if he was asking, why would you do something like this to yourself? Why would you spend your vacation escaping flash floods, being enclosed by canyon walls, and facing severe thirst in the desert? The answer that’s coming to my head is that I weighed the cost of going on such a trip – I knew I was putting myself under the mercy of God and creation, the mercy of friends and other people along the way, and the mercy of my body to stay in one piece despite the beating it has taken over the years. But the benefits far outweighed the costs – we reaped the benefits of the barely touched wilderness, its solitude, silence, beauty, and presence of the One who created it. In this desert place we experienced renewal, rest, companionship, dialogue, reflection, silence, solitude, prayer, pain, conflict, hurt, soreness, blisters, childlikeness, fun, and joy, among many other things that make up life in the fullest sense. Because we gave up our culture’s danger complex, we experienced the above to a fullness that you just can’t experience when walking on the eggshells of safety and security. We could have instead used the resources and time it took to go on this trip to sit on a beach, sleep in a comfortable air conditioned room, and have 1-2 meals cooked for us each day. Instead we chose the path less traversed, and reaped the blessings accordingly.

Oh the immense gratitude I have for being able to partake in such an experience! What do we take home from such an experience? We take home a rejuvenation that came from the detachment so that we can participate energetically in the attachments in which we find ourselves. We bring back the need to find that desert place of solitude in our days and throughout our weeks so that we can drink from the living water that doesn’t cease to quench thirst. We return with a prophetic voice to the false fortresses of safety to proclaim that their existence brings more harm in the long run than good. To base one’s life on protect oneself or one’s family from the imminence of danger, pain, or hurt will instantly lead to lifelessness and eventually lead to implosion. To open oneself to the danger that’s inherent to existence is a life lived more fully under the grace and protection of the One who created life! So, I beg you, tear down your walls that were constructed due to the imminence of danger, hurts and wounds from the past, or closed-mindedness. Receive the light of forgiveness, new life, and utter joy that peeks through those broken strongholds and let it soak you in its warmth and splendor! You will never feel the need to go back. Amen.

Post Canyon Blog #1 - Exposure

2009-06-15T13:46:00.003-04:00

We’ve been back from hiking the Paria Canyon in Utah and Arizona for a couple weeks now. Our bodies were weary after hiking 60 miles, especially since I chose to ride 65 miles on my bike and play a brutal match of Ultimate Frisbee the weekend after we returned. However, the rest of my mind and the awakening of my heart from the canyon trump all those feelings of weariness. My emotions in return have been that of shalom despite the busy work and social schedule that bombarded us. However, these sentiments were somewhat inarticulate until I spent some time processing them. In times like this in the past, one help for me to articulate what I’m feeling has been people who ask profoundly direct questions that dig into what was inarticulate before. Sure, I’ve received a lot of questions about the trip, but most of them have been questions about the who what where when why how of the trip. Those questions are enjoyable to respond to up to a certain point, but after I’m tired of the certain point my heart cries out for connection with others in the deepest part of my humanity. All in all, the point of this post is to begin that process of connection in the E-sense of process. You can trust that my face-to-face and telephonic process will happen, hopefully with some of you who read this.

Maybe it would help you who haven’t experienced the trek that I’m describing or another similar trek to give you an overall statement to convey the experience. It feels fairly impossible to sum this up but I will make an attempt: I joined fellow pilgrims to discover the essence of the Creator in the quietness, solitude, and pure splendor of the Paria Canyon. As a result of this, I found true rest, joy, freedom, and shalom as I soaked in the presence of the Creator, the beauty of the canyon and its flora and fauna, and my core humanity and that of my companions.

So to give a face and a name to this statement, here's an undergirding reflection: When you hike with all your clothes, food, and equipment in a backpack for 6 days in a barren, empty, and quiet place, there is a stripping down effect. By stripping down I don’t mean we were walking around naked, but have fun with the image of 7 friends walking naked with large backpacks in the desert! What I am trying to convey is that we have become comfortable covering ourselves up - with clothes, make up, false identities, busyness, addiction, among many other things. When all those are stripped down, we see and hear the Creator with more clarity, we more clearly see and hear the core of others, and the same goes for ourselves. There is a beauty, ugliness, and inherent danger to this. It means (and it meant for us) that people see the real me, the real us. They see my impatience, my lack of trust, his pride, her shame, her wounded past, my idols, or his frailty. But they also see his incredible service to others, her resilient body despite soreness and threat of injury, my ability to make others laugh, and her willingness to listen for hours. The lie that we have been fed and started feeding to others and ourselves is that it’s worse to expose than it is to hide. We see more danger in exposing our weakness than hiding it from our spouses, friends, and family. This is a lie and the canyon helped me to uncover and unpack it further.

There is a reason the Creator was frustrated with the first man and woman he created when they covered themselves up with fig leaves because of their shame of their own nakedness. God had made them to be fully exposed to Him/Her, and exposed to each other, and they covered themselves up. Please take this as an anecdote and not my advocacy for more nudist colonies. The anecdote is telling us that it’s more dangerous and I would go as far to say lifeless to cover up our inner core than it is for it to be exposed.

Over dinner on the third night of our trek, I was mentioning how in tune I was with my weakness to the rest of the group. We had walked a good distance before we made it to the first spring, and boy was I thirsty! My mind, body, and heart revealed its frailty when the miles continued to be walked, my water dwindled, and on that only was my focus for some time. People resonated with this, but a trip companion, Lauren, spoke of how much inherent strength she felt in making it that far, especially with the rough terrain and meager supply of water. I could have interpreted this as an opposing voice to my statement, but instead I saw it as the harmony that made the song come alive. When we are exposed to God, the elements, and each other, our frailty can be blinding to the point where we can’t see past it. Concurrently, there’s an inherent beauty and strength that’s uncovered when we stare our humanity in the face. It’s in the marriage of the two where life in the fullest sense exists. It reminds me that I’m made in the image of that Creator, and the exposure of my weakness and strength allows me to become more rooted in that image.

Metaphorically speaking, what I’m describing is like a photograph, and no, not the digital kind. A photographer practicing the old and somewhat lost art of darkroom processing must take their negative prints into the darkroom to process the images before exposing them to the light. What I understand from my photographer wife, Kristin, is that this process is time-intensive and meticulous, using specific chemicals, paper, and trinkets to complete the job. Once this process is over, the photo is fully exposed to the light, its weaknesses, strengths, beauty, and/or ugliness. The photographer is unable to see the true image until it goes through this process.

It’s for the exposure of my image and the images of others that I give thanks to that God for the journey in which I participated. And it’s for these things that I have returned with a newly rejuvenated energy for connection with the Creator despite my concrete surroundings, with others created in the image of God, and the earth for which we were endowed to care. More reflections to come...

Hitting a Brick Wall

2009-05-27T12:34:00.002-04:00

Kristin and I were on this kick of physically preparing for our 55 ish mile canyon backpacking trip. I was biking 40-50 miles per week, playing ultimate frisbee with friends every Sunday, Kristin running 2-5 miles every day, and joining forces to hike several times, once with our pack. This was along with doing some workouts our friend who is a trainer gave us. And then the brick wall came and knocked us on our butts. Here's the brick wall I'm describing:

-I dislocated a rib after moving my back funny following an ultimate frisbee match. Didn't know what the pain was until a chiropractor did his magic and popped the rib back into place one week later.
-Kristin had a weird fall onto some rocks near a creek while doing some photography. She deeply bruised her shin and knee and has been icing it 3 times per day.
-I pulled a muscle in my lower back.
-I got poison ivy after a forest hike. Because I sleep in the same bed as my wife, I transferred the poison ivy to her.
-I got something in my shoe or stepped on something barefoot and punctured my foot.

So now we are feeling all battered and bruised and departing tomorrow morning for our long journey to get to the trailhead. We hope that when you think of us you will offer some prayers and thoughts of healing!

The Art of Detachment

2009-05-17T17:07:00.003-04:00

My wife and I are headed to trek the Paria Canyon later this month with four dear friends and the brother of one of the four. You can look back at posts from February and March of 2007 to see pictures of this place that is becoming a cherished place like it has become for many people. If I need a reason for this 6 day backpacking trip in the desert of Southern Utah/Northern Arizona it would be what Richard Rohr describes here:

"We have to pull back and learn the great art of detachment; which is not aloof, but the purifying of attachment. Our religion is not pure detachment or pure attachment; it's a dance between the two. Another set of images for this reality is the desert and the city. Jesus moves back and forth between desert and city. In the city he feels himself losing perspective, love, and center and has to go out to the desert to see the real again. And when he is alone in the desert, his passionate union with the Father drives him back to the pain of the city... We go back to be purged by God's mercy and re-grafted to the vine; we go back to the well until we know what the real is, and then we return to the city. The work of the soul is attachment; the work of the Spirit is often detachment. Without the art of detachment, the culture becomes addictive, and we have massive codependency. We have people enmeshed in one another who do not know their own identities. They have nothing to give because there is no "I" there. Without attachment, however, there is no risk, no passion, no compassion, no social justice, no holding the tension and collision of opposites."

An attached person I am - attached to my wife, community, my family and Kristin's, neighbors, coworkers, and the people of Indianapolis, especially my clients at work. Not perfectly by any means do I relate to these attachments; nevertheless, I'm working toward a more profound, genuine, impacting, intimate, and loving connection with all mentioned. Essential for me in these relationships is as Rohr describes, the art of detachment. It is an art in this day and age because we can always be connected - even when we don't think connectivity is possible one is accessing the internet with a hand-held device and another is dialing home on their satellite phone. But these are only superficial scratches of the surface of why detachment requires much intentionality and creativity. We're wired and taught to do everything we possibly can to not "be in touch" with our inner core, which is incredibly spiritual and creative because the one who made us embodies that. There's always an incredible amount of mental noise that crowds our hearts and spirits from connecting with that divinest part of our being. If we allowed ourselves to strip this all away we would begin to see the REAL us, and it would inform, enlighten, and empower our ability to attach. And by attach I mean to love accurately the world, others, and God.

My friend Larry Mitchell couldn't have found a better place for detachment than the Paria, unless everyone who reads this goes and trashes it and someone installs a monorail inside to move the masses through this place of sheer solitude and beauty. So if any of these thoughts cross your mind or anyone else's mind, be sure that you will have many enemies in Indianapolis. And you can consider yourself retched.

Inspiración de los nubios

2009-05-13T13:25:00.004-04:00

I'm obsessed with the band Cloud Cult because of many reasons, one of the top reasons being that their lyrics cut straight to the chase about the detriments of U.S. culture. One song is called "Alien Christ" and is about a supposed rocket crash that people confuse as the second coming of Jesus (in an UFO nonetheless). When no one is able to find the Alien Christ, Craig Minowa sings the following stanza:
"And the days they came and went with no sign of the mystical
So they all went back to the daily drone of the practical and predictable
And Farmer Johnson built his rambler house upon that rocket hole
As if to prove man's domain over everything unknown."

I can easily associate myself with a person who has tasted and tastes the mystical on a daily basis, but frequently spends hours, days, and weeks regressing to that daily drone of the practical and predictable. And that confession comes in conjunction with a proposition to you U.S. readers that this reality is a pandemic in our culture, our government, and our churches among other avenues where the course of our lives are lived out.

I am identifying this in the same breath of a profound desire to imagine that we can correct this. I'm currently experiencing the scratches and deep wounds of enculturation being patched as I re-imagine what life, vocation, relationships, community, kingdom of God, and marriage can be when I don't take my eyes off the mystical. My hope is that you will experience this too. This may seem vague to you, but what I want you, the reader, to take from this is an admonishment to invoke your imagination and see what comes from it. Life is rich, yet the vivid and hidden forces of our culture have impoverished our hearts, imaginations, and creativity among other life-giving entities.

Cloud Cult ends it's song talking about Farmer Johnson's daughter who didn't talk until she was eight years old, and the first thing she said was about the rocket crash "Someone as God came, and ran his fingers through my hair." This sparks my memory to say that the mystical or God if you may doesn't come in the pre-fabricated way that our culture or the people engrained in it want us to think it/She/He comes. Again, I exhort you as I'm exhorting myself when it comes to this to take the road less traveled by and that will make the difference - Credits to Bobby Frost.

Back from the dead

2009-05-06T20:52:00.003-04:00

I guess all of you can consider my blog somewhat dead - there hasn't been a post for a lonnnnggg time. I'm hoping to revive it from the dead and include you in some things that have been revolving through my life and mind recently.

To give many of you who I've lost contact with to some degree, I thought I would give you the highlights of my last few years post-college. As most of you know, I've resided in Indianapolis since August of 2006. I moved here with what I would consider a divine nudge to be a part of the Trinity Church community (www.indytrinity.org) and walk and live alongside my dear friends David and Laura Zigler and at the time Aram Mitchell (he has now moved to Bloomington, IN). Through people in the Trinity community, I obtained a job at the Neighborhood Christian Legal Clinic (www.nclegalclinic.org) as a Spanish interpreter, and Bilingual Paralegal among other advocacy work for Latinos. Until 2009, this has remained the same except my life taking a turn in an incredible direction on February 15th of this year when I married the love of my life, Kristin Elizabeth Kiefer. Since returning from our honeymoon, we have become a part of a church plant in the Fountain Square neighborhood of Indianapolis called "The Porch" with our beloved Pastor David Zigler and close community branching from Trinity.

Kristin and I have come to dream anew about our life together... the melding of dreams, gifts, desires into one. This has become the beginning of a transformative process for me because for most of my life, my steps in one direction or another have never had such an effect on another person besides myself. I'm hoping to articulate this process in the upcoming days and weeks and also offer comment on the things of life. Thanks for checking my blog after a year and a half of nothingness.

The President and His First Lady

2007-12-11T12:59:00.000-05:00

It's been forever since I've posted... I've been writing a ton it just hasn't been blog material. Here is a picture of Kristin and I from my organization's fundraiser dinner. Several people told me I could work for the Republican party because of the navy suit and striking red tie... Needless to say, I declined their offer. My hair was pretty close to a mullet at that point and I didn't want to embarass any of the esteemed, white-collar members. Isn't the first lady beautiful though?

Walking with the Poor?

2007-07-07T14:16:00.000-04:00

As I've returned recently from Rosarito, Baja California, Mexico, and live and work where I do, I've been reflecting and asking questions about what it means to walk with the poor. I think this is a buzz phrase, whether in well-minded churches or political speeches for the upcoming presidential election. So, I hope this short reflection will be a platform for you to be encouraged, challenged, or maybe turned off. Either way, if it can serve to be the beginning of a dialogue between you and me and a spark us to live more as Jesus did, I think that is good. And maybe it will give those who are interested an update of my Mexico experience.

Walking amongst the materially poor seems to only be worthwhile if we recognize our common humanity with the people with whom we walk. In Rosarito, Mexico, I feel as if the group began to understand this. One day I was asked to take a walk with small groups of people around the neighborhood. I began this time by taking people to a hill that was littered with trash, and where our group was asked to go to the bathroom as the family's bathroom was full (a large trench in the ground). This hill had a gorgeous view that overlooked many arid hills, farms, and neighborhoods in the distance - it was just that human waste and excrement hindered this vision. Then, there is the materially poverty of individuals and the country of Mexico that presents itself as you cross the border from San Diego, CA to Tijuana, BC. On one side, homes with mortgages that average $450,000 in the greater San Diego area, on the other side, the majority of abodes are shacks and dirt floors. The neighborhood where our family resided well represented this, as the skin and clothes were muddied. However, the Creator's handiwork in the trashed hills of Mexico and the dusty faces of the folks is no different from the vastness of Lake Erie or the faces of the people who enter our churches. It's just that our sewage finds it home underwater in Lake Erie, and we take showers and apply make up that covers the muddy pride, greed, and lust, all of which surface frequently when we live genuinely before others and God.

Therefore, when we walk with the materially deprived, the first attitude that we as materially rich or middle-class should assume is that we are impoverished in ways that the materially poor may not be. Notice that I say "may" here, because every person and situation is different and we can't generalize. Many people I've known or read about that are materially poor have truly understood what it means to trust God, to live in relationship with one another and the earth, and to enjoy life for what it is. At the same time, the financially privileged tend to rely on abundant resources to trust God, to enjoy each other's company, to take care for the earth (the most natural food the most expensive, while the chemical-laden food is the cheapest), and to enjoy life. However, there are people on both ends that defy these statements - there are generous rich folks, complacent middle-class folks, and greedy poor folks. We can't boil down the Kingdom of God to "we all have to become poor" or "God's blessing on our lives means that he will give us what we want."

I think Henri Nouwen explains how we need to act as he worked with the Maryknolls in Bolivia. He describes the change in focus in this group like this: "It is the change from selling pearls to hunting for the treasure. Indeed, not too long ago, the main task was seen as selling the pearls of good news to the poor and ignorant people. Now a radically new perspective dominates the Maryknoll activities: to search with the poor for the treasure hidden in the ground on which they stand." (Nouwen, Gracias, pp. 7-8) With this, I think we should ask these questions: "1. Do I see myself as a seller of pearls to the poor? 2. How am I impoverished? 3. What ways can I open my impoverished self to receive treasures from the poor?

Here are a few of my answers to these questions from my recent trip:
1. It was difficult to not see ourselves as "sellers of pearls" as we came with our equipment, purified water jugs, food, and gifts to build a house. On top of this, our family expressed their economic need in several other areas and we chose to fill these with the resources we brought or could buy.
2. I'm impoverished of experiencing simple joy from the gift of life. There are times I only experience joy when I have a profound explanation behind what happens, or when I come to intellectual discovery through a person or an event. I think this is for several reasons - first, I am a planner and don't always allow for spontaneity. Because of this, I predetermine my joy and don't allow for surprise. Second, I work with adults all day and primarily hang out with adults, and don't allow much of a place for children in my life.
3. By spending time with children in Mexico, especially children who enjoy life without x-boxes or thousands of television stations, there was a freedom and enjoyment in me that is rarely ever tapped into. I loved it and have a hard time now being in the same place where I was before the trip. Children and folks who experience joy amidst little material wealth have a treasure inside of them that I need desperately. I'm asking now the ways in which this need can be met!

A globule of thoughts

2007-06-15T08:44:00.000-04:00

Globule = small spherical mass

North Carolina - My parents now live in Burlington, NC. My amazing lady friend, Kristin and I visited them for Memorial Day weekend. It's strange, when all my life home has been one place. But, a new place seems to be a place of healing for them. I continue to hope for a community of people who can surround them in love as they get back on their feet... and when that happens, people who my parents can pour into and consider lifelong friends.

CSA - My roommates and I are part of a CSA, which stands for Community Supported Agriculture. These are popping up all over the U.S. for individuals to practically supports small farmers who are trying to make a living. Ours is with a small farm in Sheridan, IN, Steve and Anita to be a more specific. They organically grow wide varieties of vegetables, and we get a share of them each week. I would suggest checking out their website and also looking for CSA's or Farmers Markets around you. http://www.homestead-growers.com/ We can keep the small farms from dying out to the large, government subsidized farms with action like this. And, it's not like you're making a sacrifice at all. It's cheaper, the produce is fresher, you have a relationship with the folks who grow it, and they have a loving relationship with the earth. Anybody have recipes for beets or turnips?

Mexico - Next week I'm going to Mexico with folks from various churches in and around Indianapolis. I was asked by the leaders to be the interpreter and also lead some cultural engagement activities. It's a privilege to be able to study and experience the Mexican culture as most of my days are spent interacting with Mexican immigrants trying to make a living in the U.S. It's also a privilege to pastor people who have never had much interaction with the Mexican culture or the justice issues involved in the immigration conversation. Hopefully I'll be able to put a significant chunk of time into blogging upon return.

Adios Houghton

2007-05-15T20:50:00.000-04:00

(I'm back... sorry for the long delay of blog posts)

In Spanish, the language that I continue to love and learn, you say goodbye with a specific purpose. Hasta luego (see you later) signifies that there is a definite time when you will see a person or be in a place again. Adios (Goodbye) is leaving someone or some place without knowing when you will ever see them or be there again. In English, I tend to say both of these words flippantly. With this, I am saying 'Adios' to Houghton, because after this past weekend, I tread its ground for the last time in what I think will be a long time.

My mom, dad, and bro Jonathan are moving to Burlington, North Carolina, which is a small city between Greensboro and Raleigh/Durham. To give a brief history of our stint in Houghton, my mom began college there in 1975, my dad in 1976, and after only a short time away following their marriage in 1979, they returned in 1980 as my dad was hired in the Admission department. In 1982, my sister Rebecca was born and until May of '05 lived in Houghton. I was popped out in 1984 and lived there (inconsistently during college) until August of '06. Jonathan, my bro, was a pleasant addition to our family in 1994. So, that's 32, 31, 23, 22, and 13 years of life lived in this place, and 21 years I believe in one house. Especially in a country of frequent job change and residential flexibility, this goes against the status quo in its longevity.

So, I say 'adios' because of the surface reasons; one that I now live in Indianapolis and taking vacation time from a job is limited. Two is that I plan on using this to visit the family there in NC as well as continuing going on outdoor adventures as they come. Scratching a bit deeper, it's going to take time to heal from the ways in which I genuinely believe my family, and especially my Dad and Mom, have been wronged in this situation. I'll stop with this terse statement, as going further is not publicly worthwhile at this stage of my thought process. A lot of you may know at what I'm hinting, and those who do or do not: don't hesitate to call me or email me if you're interested in further conversation.

On one hand I say goodbye with thankfulness to the Houghton community for its influence in my upbringing and education. There are so many people that had a wonderful impact on my life, and I would be a completely different person if it wasn't for them. On the other hand, I say goodbye in lament that things ended for my parents and brother the way that they have. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth while I wait for something Divine to prompt me to walk that part of the earth once again... or fill out the annoying donation cards and send it in the return envelope with a check to Houghton College. Pues, a Houghton y su gente digo "adios." (So, to Houghton and its people, I say goodbye).

Paria Canyon

2007-03-03T10:49:00.000-05:00

Excuse me for the lack of posts recently... 2007 life in Indianapolis has been wonderful, challenging, restful; nonetheless I haven't made a priority to blog in the recent month. I also was preparing for a backpack trip in the Paria Canyon of Northern Arizona/Southern Utah - a remote, red-rock slot canyon that I hope you can enjoy and breathe in vicariously through the pictures and words I post in the coming weeks. The trip was not only to whet our outdoor appetites but to leave the crowded streets of Indianapolis and Toronto to encounter God with one another in the desert canyon. 10 of us pilgrims flew early last Tuesday morning, arrived in Las Vegas the same morning, obtained two rental vehicles, drove 6 hours to the trailhead, and hiked in the same evening. On Sunday, we completed the 52-55 miles (depending if you 'meandered' at all), after not seeing a soul (unless you believe the 16 birds and one lizard have souls). We drove the distance back to Vegas to be greeted by the electricity of the city (a slight contrast to sleeping under the stars each night). The group included 8 folks from my church community (3 of us roommates), 1 friend of the church community, and Greg Paul, the lead pastor of Sanctuary in Toronto, a church and ministry in the downtown streets of that diverse city. He also wrote the book "God in the Alley," one that I would suggest for those who are interested in learning about or participating in urban mission. More details of what this entailed will come... it takes time to process things like this!

Aram and Brad hiking to nipple rock (look carefully). There was a spring at the base where we filled our nalgenes with pure water, not milk that I was hoping to pour over granola after five days of it being dry.

Semi-pro picture of the group (thugs) taken by our trip photographer, Brad. This is an old beat up truck as we exited in the tourist region (our first contact with people after 6 days).

Whores and Martyrs

2007-01-20T11:40:00.000-05:00

My church community is nearing the end of a corporate study of Revelation, which most people would deem the most misinterpreted book in the Bible. It's been refreshing to have pastors who are teaching this that are well-read on a wide variety of scholarly sources. On top of this, both our pastors are deeply involved in the life of their flock. So, the Book of Revelation, in all its mystery, is being made real to all us lawyers, doctors, social workers, teachers, architects, and coffee-shop workers (among others), because of our pastors commitment to this book being alive like it was when John penned it.

With this context, Revelation 17-18 was the topic of this past week's discussion. In these sections, John is revealed an image of a whore, which is a more vivid image in the Greek: an outward manifestation of grotesque immorality and indulgence. I'm not going to bore us with all the details but moreso point us to the general direction John was being led in his writing... a direction that would be echoed in houses and cities and countries and a world that for the most part, prides itself on indulgence. My thesis of this passage, thanks to a little nudge from Jeff last Saturday, is that people and communities who follow after Christ at some point have to ask "to what story are we listening?" This is by no means a black and white delegation, but one that I urge needs to be considered by those who follow Jesus passionately and hope to see the Kingdom in which he reigns transform whole persons and communities.

The first story is one of indulgence, those who eat and drink whatever, buy whatever, watch whatever for however long, sleep with whomever, drive whatever, vote for whomever, follow whomever, etc., while never questioning much about the source, their motivation, or the effects of their decisions on themselves, their communities, or others. In many ways, these people are those who consciously or unconsciously follow after a whore who is the manifestation of the kingdom that battles against that of God.

The second is a story of sacrifice - those who have allowed and are allowing Jesus' kingship in their life to live against cultural norms, despite the failure they commit and the screaming temptation it is to say yes to the whore in the tv's, the presidents, the bartenders, the stores, the catalogs, the boyfriends and girlfriends, the websites, the pastors, the professors, the interpretations of the Bible, the liberals, and the conservatives. It is those who say no to gods and ways that many pastors and theologians have fit into a neat system, and instead decide to follow a Lion who cannot be tamed who concurrently is a Lamb that is the epitome of weakness and sacrifice. They tend to see their life in lieu of a Kingdom that's much larger than their home or TV screen, but with this global vision their daily decisions in their home are inspired and guided.

The myth that emits out of this second story, coming from prosperous nations and their interpretations of Revelation, tells us that our life will look pretty and in some ways be untouchable until the tribulation. I posit that this is a blatant misread of Revelation and a lack of awareness to the people around the world who suffer and are martyred for following Jesus sacrificially in volatile contexts. At the same time, if we were living counterculturally in the non-volatile contexts, I think similar suffering, whether it is mental, social, spiritual, or physical probably will happen. I will leave us with an image that John experienced that shocks me, but speaks into the reality of what it is to follow Jesus as individuals and communities. It's him describing the whore in his vision: "I saw that the woman was drunk with the blood of the saints, the blood of those who bore testimony to Jesus."

It's the church's shame that in the last 200 years, the church has muzzled Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John and turned them into instruments of a controlling, sterile orthodoxy. But the texts themselves are explosive. - N.T Wright

a season of grieving

2007-01-07T13:29:00.000-05:00

The above pictures are a few of the family photos that were taken via my sister, Rebecca, over my week in Houghton/Rochester. Although this post is more about my experience in Kansas City, I wanted to affirm that my Christmas reflected a lot of my last post - a lot of the good and the challenging of being in my "home" that will no longer be my family's physical home very soon.

This sense of loss was echoed as my comrades from my study abroad in Central America gathered in Kansas City, specifically to reunite and remember a fellow student, Nate O'Neill, who most of you will remember as my friend that was killed this past July. The weekend was centered around a visit to his hometown, Winchester, Kansas, where we visited his parents and two brothers, his grave, and learned much about who he was outside of Nate in Central America through the stories, pictures, and family. As one of the organizers of this event (affectionately called "Papa Bear"), it was easy to get caught up in the necessary leadership aspects and not allow myself to experience the emotions and thoughts that were heavy upon many people as we took this step in the healing process. I guess this is why I'm led now to write and let it seep more into my being.

It still is hard to fathom that the guy with whom we have so many incredible stories can no longer be around. The person who, as we experienced in visiting his family, was so loving towards and loved by his family, can no longer share in life with us on earth. I'm left with a lot of grief that things had to happen the way they did. But somehow, I have sensed that my faith has grown significantly through this awful reality. A lot of it has revolved around the faith that I have experienced through the interaction I've had with his brother Jason, who lives and works in Indianapolis, as well as the gracious presence of his entire family at the funeral and this past weekend. Their following of Jesus in the midst of their loss is overwhelmingly evident.

Coupling this is something Anne LaMott writes in Traveling Mercies: "All those years I fell for the great palace lie that grief should be gotten over as quicly as possible and as privately. But what I've discovered since is that the lifelong fear of grief keeps us in a barren, isolated placed and that only grieving can heal grief; the passage of time will lessen the acuteness, but time alone, without the direct experience of grief, will not heal it... I'm pretty sure that it is only by experiencing that ocean of sadness in a naked and immediate way that we come to be healed- which is to say, that we come to experience life with a real sense of presence and spaciousness and peace."

If it wasn't for Nate's death, I wouldn't understand the vulnerability of life to a depth that I now do. But, it doesn't make me cower in fear; it makes me want to experience life, and especially those realities encapsulated in the Costa Rican concept "Pura Vida" and Hebrew "Shalom." These two concepts are about wholeness, purity, peace, and tranquility, that have stood the test and overcome wars, poverty, death, and busyness (among thousands of other earthy emotions and events). Nate's death and the subsequent emotions, thoughts, and experiences have forced me to re-articulate and think through a lot of what I have believed and by which I stood and attempt to stand in my lifestyle. One of these is LaMott's words of the power that happens in grieving with others.

This practice of corporate grieving has been exemplified in two specific ways by the O'Neill family. At the calling hours and at the funeral in mid-July, Jason, Alex, Jay, and Cindy were holding each other up physically, as they talked with people and walked with each other through the different aspects of the corporate gatherings that were in remembrance and mourning of Nate's life. This image is stamped in my brain and brought back to my memory often. It was brought back in the second way as I met with Jason in September at a local Indy restaurant. Jason spoke of how "we" were doing in the grieving process rather than how "I" was doing. It made me recognize the many families I know that even in this time would not be able to stand being around each other. However, I truly believe they have allowed God to bind them as a family in cohesiveness that is unfathomable and extraordinary.

This all was affirmed inside of me this past weekend as we shared a meal and a lot of stories and pictures with the O'Neill's. I give glory to God for the way that he has worked in the grieving of this family and how it has spoken to many of us who are affected so deeply on a personal level, but are too selfish to share in the common experience of grief with others. All of these things have pointed me to remember again that we as humans need to open our lives up to each other, whether that's joy, grief, pain, laughter, etc. We miss you Nate, but we acknowledge that the Spirit that guided your life reminds and binds us on a frequent basis. You're alive in so many ways. Pura Vida, my tall friend.

a non-token Christmas post

2006-12-24T22:59:00.000-05:00

Although I did not spend much time shopping, the month of December always seems to fly by. As I was working a lot in preparation to take off until January 2, as well as pass the time well with many friends in Indy, the month certainly had some speed to it. Now, I'm at home, sleeping well and enjoying a short break before I have to head back.

Why I say non-token in the title is because this Christmas for my Houghton is much different. As most of you know, Houghton will no longer be the place I go for Holidays or random visits, as my parents and brother will be off to North Carolina come the beginning of the summer. The Christmas Eve spent with my grandparents, the gathering at Houghton Wesleyan that is always a reunion with old, graduated friends, and all that comes with our family on Christmas day has and will look similar this Christmas. But never again will it look like it always has.

This is a point to mourn, as we have and I think we continually will as the holiday season comes and goes. I don't know if it will sink in fully until my family has moved, and I am visiting them for Christmas in NC a year from now. But what is it about this time that magnifies the loss of something or someone you hold dear? Maybe it's all of the holiday recollections that always come up when you are with family - and when someone or something is missing, it is not the same. However, Christmas can be the most painful time for families that are detiorating, because they're suppose to give stuff to or spend time with others that they don't really want to do this with. At the same time, Christmas has become this beautiful reunion for my family, where we're off from work and school or the mountain of finals are done. It seems like we've become content in the being together, whether or not we laugh for hours, cry for a few minutes, or have long conversations.

My family experience is a good reminder of why we celebrate this day. Jesus, whose reality and history confront us each time we ponder this season, doesn't move or die or become bitter. He was and is. There are so many cliches tossed around during this time, but my prayer for whoever reads this is to allow themselves to be comforted and confronted by what Jesus' coming means for history and for our lives today. Allow yourself at least to learn something about the history of celebrating this holiday and who Jesus really was (and is) beyond all of the popular portrayals, whether or not you believe he is Divine. I'll put myself out there and say that Jesus' humble, vulnerable coming to live on earth is the commencement of how and why I find life in him. This is why I celebrate, and toss this out to you, the reader.

the title

2006-12-06T08:25:00.000-05:00

Well, since I have received comments and emails calling me a heretic, some upset people wishing I would have written something more than my previous, meager post, I've decided to whet your appetites with the musings that led me to change the title of this blog and go in this new direction:

On Sunday nights, a group of people, normally unigendered (mmmm... what a word), hop just south of downtown to a place named Resource Inc. Resource is a shelter of sorts for teenagers who are beyond the foster care system - beyond meaning but not limited to suffering the consequences of their long web of bad decisions or simply rejection from their natural parents and/or foster parents. Mr. Larry Mitchell, who leads this group of folks on Sundays, is accurate when he deems the teenagers harbored here as "the least of these." I find our limited dialogues with the boys and girls a time for which I am never ready. My unpreparedness is most likely due to the fact that I have never faced many of the awful things that these children have. Some of their stories are sickening. My toughest moment as a child was probably when I swore at my parents for not allowing me to go to the Third Eye Blind concert in 7th grade, tried to escape on my bike, got caught by my dad who proceeded to put me in my room for the rest of the day. This is nothing compared to being raped continously by a father or step-father, neglected so to get into drugs and alcohol at age 14, and in all this, never treasured as a son or daughter.

In the midst of this, I believe forgiveness is essential. Our topic was just this on Sunday night, as we split up into groups to talk at a more personal level. The girls in my group came to ask each other and myself the question, sure we can forgive, but for one, how can we do this if the person is going to continually wrong me or take advantage of me? For two, we might be able to forgive someone and that relationship with take a turn in a good direction, but will we ever forget? The teens here have much more vivid memories and flashbacks of being wronged, so I don't know how they ever could forget when I personally remember what this person said to hurt me during March of 2004 at a specific place.

If you haven't seen "Eternal Sunshine" (of the Spotless Mind), you'll know why this connects in an instant. This was another weekend event that was swimming around in my brain in this whole conversation. The plot finds its epicenter in a relationship between Clementine (Kate Winslet) and Joel (Jim Carrey), which after some turmoil both end up at a clinic that specializes in erasing individual's memories of specific events or people. The movie is flashbacks from the past, while moments from the present are tossed back in at random times. But, all of them show Joel and Clementine in this confusing mess of trying to remember and trying to forget each other until the end. They meet again at the beach and fall in love all over again.

The fact is that we don't forget, right? I don't really know if God forgets, either. I've been told that God "wipes our slates clean," but how many times does it point in scripture to God or one of the prophets reminding the people of God: "From this squalor is where you came, and now you're given a new way of life. Walk in it." This is what inspires me, as I describe in the subtitle. There comes a point where embracing our past doesn't mean that we are saying the awful things were good, but it seems that living a life trying to erase the past isn't feasible and isn't healthy. Those awe-full and awe-some memories are learning points and part of the fabric of who we are, but what we can now embrace and walk in is the becoming of who we were created to be. By forgiveness, it seems, we take a baby-step in following the One who was/is/will be perfect. I urge us to take part in this re-creation.

I'm back

2006-12-04T13:51:00.000-05:00

Well, it's been awhile since I've blogged. I'm sensing it might be good to be consistent with this as I've always appreciated the responses and dialogue that come from what I am experiencing and wanting to share. So, consider this another commencement. I'm getting off lunch break at work so more substantial thoughts will be on their way.

Oh Henri

2006-10-26T12:28:00.000-04:00

A blip from Henri Nouwen, Gracias:

"In a world of poverty, the lines between darkness and light, good and evil, destructiveness and creativity, are much more distinct than in a world of wealth. One of the temptations of upper-middle class life is to create large gray areas between good and evil. Wealth takes away the sharp edges of our moral sensitivities and allows a comfortable confusion about sin and virtue. The difference between rich and poor is not that the rich sin more than the poor, but that the rich find it easier to call sin a virtue. When the poor sin, they call it sin; when they see holiness, they identify it as such. This intuitive clarity is often absent from the wealthy, and that absence easily leads to the atrophy of the moral sense."

I don't know about you all, but it's hard for me to completely agree or disagree with this quote. What I do know is that living in an urban area reveals the grand differences between the rich and the poor. If you drive a mile northwest of my home here in Indianapolis, you leave humble neighborhoods to some of the richest in Indianapolis. I am constantly in this tension as I work specifically for people of low income, but cannot relate to them too much because even my meager non-profit income doesn't put me in their category.

Henri Nouwen isn't exactly talking about my reflections, but I think they help me realize some things about my own daily decisions, and how they need to be challenged in order to become more like Jesus as well as be able to relate better to the people with whom I work... but probably people who are wealthy too. As always, send your thoughts my way via comment or email.

Sore Butt and Conquering

2006-10-08T19:43:00.000-04:00

As I mentioned on Friday, I rode 100 miles in the rolling hills of Southern Indiana this weekend. I'm completely exhausted now. My butt is really sore from sitting on a bike seat, but the ride was conquered. It was a glorious ride - some incredible trees with brightly colored leaves; soybean fields; corn fields; old towns; Hoosier National Forest; and out of the 4,600 people there, I saw 4 black people, 2 asians, 2 latinos, and 4,592 whites. Kind of humourous but mainly disappointing, while reflective of much of Indiana/Kentucky outside of the larger cities. Here's a picture of Jeff (buddy from church who opened me up to the glory of the race) and I after 100 miles. Please note the tight bike shorts and shirt.

This is what my hair looks like after I wear a bike helmet and sweat.

Yes, kickapoo is the name of the beautiful state park I rode in last weekend with my friend Danielle from my time in Central America.

Hilly Hundred

2006-10-06T10:09:00.000-04:00

I'm riding in a 100 mile bike event this weekend (see http://www.hillyhundred.org): 50 miles on Saturday, 50 on Sunday. I don't know what my body is in for, but I hear that the hills in Southern Indiana during fall are breathtaking. Breathtaking in that I will be in awe of my favorite season and especially out of breath, because I'm not in the best shape. Hopefully I'll finish and have some cool pictures to share.

Broadway Abbey inside

2006-09-30T10:47:00.000-04:00

Well, let me give you a little tour of what is now known as the Broadway Abbey, because us 3 single and 1 dating guys live on Broadway Street and are known for our monastic practices like baking bread, sipping fine brews (coffee of course:), and the disciplines. Notice in all these pictures that we have no decorating scheme, but that's the point...

This first picture is our living room, where I frequent to listen to tranquil music like Damian Rice, burn incense, and read challenging/stimulating books from Aram and I's collection, all while sitting in the comfy green chair that has been with me ever since college started.

#2 - Here is my section of Aram and I's room, which is devoted to remembering Latin America. Sorry to you Ticos out there, the Costa Rican flag is on the other side of the room so I can wake up and look at it.

#3 - Aram's section of the room reflects his knack of creativity, love of art, Scotland, and the willingness to go anywhere and everywhere to collect a motley concoction of useful stuff. His desk is an old elementary school desk, salvaged probably from the mid 1900s, propped up on cinder blocks. Dang.

inspiration

2006-09-27T12:42:00.000-04:00

Well, yesterday I turned 22, and through my conversations and prayers this came to my head. I'm incredibly thankful, primarily to God, but also to the other people who haven't given up on me despite what happened during my 21st year. This began and culminated in my experience of Latin America as a classroom, whether it was a restaurant in the mountains of Guatemala or a lecture hall in La Habana, Cuba. From the wide expressions of culture, wealth, politics, economics, religion, and ultimately life, our group all gained a vast knowledge and array of experience that impacted us in ways that didn't all materialize until we returned home. This return home for me was brutal at times, and I'm realizing there are still things I confront on a daily basis that I wouldn't if I didn't go to Latin America. I admit, I hurt some people because of this, and challenged some others. All in all, my faith in Christ, the Kingdom of God, and the community of followers was shaken. Many questions, doubts, and hard conversations followed.

A person growing up in the church and reacting against it when he or she is 21 is not a revolutionary thing, it happens all around. But, many people my age take this disillusionment and become reliant on filling this void with getting drunk, having sex with multiple partners, spending hours upon end on the internet, revolting against parents and relatives for "the way I was raised", and the list could go on. Thankfully I did not make any long-lasting mistakes. In the middle of my aforementioned struggles, questions, doubts, and conversations, I was experiencing what it is a) to be in relationship with God, and b) to be in relationship with communities and individuals, and c) to be in relationship with the world at large.

All in all, my passion for God, God's Kingdom, the community of followers (that some call the church), and others in general have been renewed through this whole process. Despite the fact that I'm confronted daily with domestic abuse, drug use, broken families, bankruptcy, the reality of what is happening to our brothers and sisters in Latin America and around the world, somehow I'm experiencing a deeper joy for life than I ever have. Thanks be to God and all my Houghton, LASP, and Indy friends.

Psalm 126 is probably the most accurate thing that describes me right now (especially when you know the context of Israel's Babylonian exile):

1 When the LORD brought back the captives to Zion, we were like people who dreamed.
2 Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them."
3 The LORD has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.
4 Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like streams in the Negev.
5 Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.
6 They who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.

a recently seen bumper sticker

2006-09-18T23:04:00.000-04:00

"My gamer fragged your honor student" was seen on the Indy streets, trumping the vast array of honor student stickers previously encountered. If you need me to explain what this means, sorry.

The back

2006-09-12T23:32:00.000-04:00

A view from the back alley entrance to our house.

The front

2006-09-12T23:30:00.000-04:00

The frontal view of our residence, 3251 Broadway Street. We live on the right of the duplex.

paid holidays

2006-09-04T14:11:00.000-04:00

Paid holidays are beautiful... I'm sitting in a coffee shop in broad ripple, a burough of Indianapolis with a plethora of bars/restaurants/shops. I hope to post some pictures of my crazy roommates and my normal co-workers, as well as some of the places I frequent. It's just that we are a little delayed in getting internet at our house.

I started my job with the Neighborhood Christian Legal Clinic (NCLC) last week. Already, I have been faced with many challenges within translating Spanish, as well as learning all of the legal jargon in English and in Spanish. It's nice to work with lawyers and paralegals that are gracious, and glad for me to be there helping them out. I don't know what I'd do if that wasn't the case. I wanted to share a story with you about Maria, which is a fake name so I don't disseminate this woman's identity.

Maria was my first latina client at the intakes we do in our office. At intake, the clients bring to our lawyers their situations, and the lawyer decides whether or not they have a case and/or are below the specified income level to receive service from our clinic. This was the first time I have translated for something official, beyond helping people out when I was in Central America or somewhere in the States at a restaurant, etc. While many of the words are hard to come by, Maria made things a little more difficult because she would cut me off before I finished and go off on tangents... frequently. As you can tell, I was getting slightly agitated by this, and once we finally got around to why she was there, I was relieved.

What I did not mention was that her tangents were emotional upheavals about the abuse she has suffered as an undocumented immigrant, as well as from her husband and son. I wondered if I would be able to be objective when I had been in a place as a stranger for so long, been abused continuously by people that said they once loved me, and not really had anybody that would stand up for me? I probably wouldn't have done much better than Maria. However, I was getting frustrated by her because I couldn't do my job. I know that being sensitive and translating Spanish will begin to coincide once I get more experience, but that was really hard. I wish I could apologize to Maria for visually showing my frustration. Hopefully she will see Christ through the people in our clinic as we help her, undocumented and all, to see some good in life.

I think this all is making me really chew on what is I actually believe about many things, because what is past has come with little exposure to real suffering, not just being mad about a snowy day or about my continuing headaches. I was inspired a bit after I finished "The Story We Find Ourselves In" by Brian McLaren, when Neo (a main character in the book) tells Dan (the pastor who was given leave because of his non-traditional thinking) this: "I hope they'll see you're just struggling to really understand our story, and tell it straight. That's no heresy, man. That's the gospel."

Thankfully I have a great community of people that will listen, speak wisdom to me, and let me know that I am not alone in this.

one week down

2006-08-27T17:44:00.000-04:00

As my title indicates, it's been a week here in Indianapolis. Thanks to the green tag sale at the closest goodwill, I got a sweet desk for 15.90. Kendall, one of my housemates, stopped alongside of the road for me to jump out and pick up a cinder block, which I may use to prop up that desk so my legs fit under it more comfortably. I will unpack a few more boxes into that desk and then my room should be uncluttered... a few decoration items may be in order but that will come with time. If some of you do not know, I am rooming (in the master bedroom) with Aram Mitchell. He and I have been good friends since my sophomore year of college. I also live with Mr. Kendall Ludwig, aspiring musician, Olivet Nazarene grad, and Senor Ryan Brown, who studied at Trevecca and Olivet. We've enjoyed our first week all together. Soon I shall post some pictures of my house and these young men for all your viewing pleasure.

Church is on Saturday night at 5:30 in the basement of a local church. We went last night, and then had about 12 people over to our house for some Italian food and hours of conversation. Great stuff. Sunday morning is ultimate frisbee, where the south side (our team) beat the north side 11-9... they use 38th street, a main street here in downtown as the separation point. Great game, sweaty people because of the Indy humidity. I'm loving the community and friendships that are just being awakened. Tomorrow, work starts. I'll tell more details when they come my way.

here

2006-08-23T13:37:00.000-04:00

Well, I'm here... I just had to say goodbye to Dad and Jonathan and it sucked. It was so good to have them here - they were such a blessing to move, have meals, shop, and talk through some logistical stuff. I think the best part was the sacrifice they made just to be with me in this time. Life is a little more difficult on the other side, and they allowed me to laugh/cry/be tired... and play disc golf on a real course in a beautiful park. Thanks Jonathan. However, I'm confident of my call here... to grow further in relationship with God, and through that to be opened as to how I should be thinking, growing, working for God's kingdom. I'm so glad for the community here - it's evident already in the hugs/bread/movies/words/water, to say the least. Things are going to be good, I know that, but the unpacking and figuring out things seems endless right now!

I love you all back at Houghton. I'm truly missing you already and hope our paths cross soon.

traversing...

2006-08-20T22:30:00.000-04:00

Well, the time has come... in 9 hours my Dad, Jonathan, and I will be driving to Indianapolis with my possessions. I'll keep you all up to date whence I have the chance to blog. Peace.

Goodbye Houghton

2006-08-17T13:15:00.000-04:00

On Monday, I head for my new home in Indianapolis. While the excitement continues for the change of living in downtown, working with Latinos, being with the Trinity Church community (esp. Aram, Dave, Laura, and their new baby), I have to leave such a wonderful place where I made many friends and memories. I've decided to compose on the spot the top ten things I will miss about Houghton, besides the obvious #1 of missing friends and family. These are in no specific order...
1. Fresh air and beautiful outdoors - I could be in the woods by opening my back door and walking fifty feet.

2. Entertainment with Jonathan - trampoline, wiffleball, fifa soccer, mario kart, settlers, baseball.

3. The Reitnour's house (Shoofly Pie, Coffee, Scrabble, Settlers of Catan, laughing hysterically with Brian, Matt, Kathy, Scott, and others).

4. Fillmore and Houghton Soccer - At this time five-seven years ago, I was at the Fillmore field twice a day preparing to eventually go to State Championships. Woohoo. I also enjoyed watching the success/grit/perseverance from the sidelines.

5. Not having to lock my doors at all.

6. Being able to shoot guns and have fires in my backyard.

7. Reading a book with little or no noise.

8. Fresh apple cider from local apple farms and friends.

9. Knowing all of my neighbors by name.

10. Each and every memory from college here, which could probably be a Top 100 list itself.

Please keep in touch... my email is fandullish@gmail.com, so if I wouldn't have your updated email/phone, send it my way. I will hope to blog consistently as journaling should become a bigger part of my life during the transition.

Nineteen days and counting...

2006-08-02T17:03:00.000-04:00

First things first, it's been tough to be back here in NY and go back to my normal routine following Nate's death and the ensuing reunion in Kansas City. There are still a lot of questions, things to think about, conversations to be had; but, life has to go on somehow. Some healing has occurred because of the willingness of our group to talk with each other and be honest about our thoughts and feelings. It reminds me once again that we cannot give up on community in times of grief - there are people who understand and can grieve with us, but there are also others who will help us think about things somewhat objectively. It's unhealthy to be alone and to say that no one understands. God crafted us for one another. It was good to hear this in an email from Nate's parents:

"While he may have impacted each of your lives, we feel that each of you helped to build and shape him as well. It was following his semester in Costa Rica that he told us that he felt that he couldn't just do a job, that he felt he had to do something to help other people too... Thank you for being his friend, and for thinking of us in our time of sorrow."

In the midst of this, the craziness of moving on August 21st is starting to sink in. On that day I will caravan with my Dad and brother to Indianapolis with my boxed-up possessions. I've been away numerous times, as my blog history reveals, but this is permanent. There are so many relationships here in Houghton that I feel have been renewed because of my extended stay. I am having a lot of fun and learning a lot through unexpected and expected sources. Also, much of my family has always been in the WNY area, and it's been great to have easy access to all of them. Through all this, I still know that it is time to go. It's just going to be a hard couple weeks with a lot of quick goodbyes and busy days - two things I tend to despise.

The good news is that I am close to having a house with three other guys around my age - one of them is Aram Mitchell, with whom I can't wait to live and learn. Job starts August 28th... whoa, I'm entering into adulthood (with a child's heart).

Nate and me in Chicago

2006-07-31T20:15:00.000-04:00

Another picture of Nate and me... we were disappointed that the back of the station wagon lacked seating, so we made our own. Of course, we were the two tallest in the group in Chicago.

2006-07-25T20:48:00.000-04:00

Thanks to Josh, here is our group of 14 from around the Estados Unidos that gathered in Kansas City. We wouldn't have made it without one another, which is an understatement. Thanks, all.

2006-07-24T10:46:00.000-04:00

One of the last times I saw Nate in Chicago, exactly three weeks ago. This is reflective of our characters, as we obtained free, temporary Bud Light and Budweiser tattoos at the Taste of Chicago.

Adios, Nate

2006-07-24T09:28:00.001-04:00

I'm back now from a surprise weekend in the Kansas City, Kansas area. I would like to say that this is because I had a reunion with my beloved friends from my study abroad program. However, the reason for the location and timing was because of the shocking death of our friend Nate O'Neill (affectionately known as 'Tall Nate'). Nate had just graduated from Geneva College in May, and was planning to work in some tough areas of Brazil with the Mennonite Central Committee, managing micro-loans to impoverished families. He was riding his recently purchased motorcycle around his home in Kansas to practice for Brazil, as he found out would be his primary means of transportation. Although the cause for him losing control of his bike is still unknown, he instantly died when he ran into the rear of a semi.

14 of us former LASPers congregated in the KC area to celebrate, mourn, and tell countless stories about Nate's life. His time with us in LASP was full of stories, mostly humorous. Nate was the one who reported to us the morning after the first night of living with his Costa Rican family that in attempting to describe a friend of his from Geneva, he used the word "hombre" instead of "amigo", which in the context signified that his friend was actually his gay lover.

Overall, it was amazing to be able to see how many people were impacted by Nate's life, especially those who I hadn't seen in awhile from our semester in Central America. None of us would have made it individually through the weekend without each other. Thank God for these friendships. However, I am left with many questions about how we as Christians should respond to a tragedy like this. How insensitive was it to hear a Pastor look in the eyes of Nate's mother, Lori, and tell her that it was ordained by God for Nate to die. Why was the service more about Calvinist theology and altar calls to accept Jesus than it actually was about Nate's life, which was a life worth being celebrated, worth giving God and Nate's family praise that we were able to be his friend? You can't tell me that grieving a loss, being angry, and asking questions is not trusting God. That is bullshit, not reflective of Scripture, Christ's example that we see through it, and ultimately basic human experiences and the emotions that come with them.

Despite all this, at least the fourteen of us from Florida, California, Montana, Tennessee, Kentucky, New York, Pennsylvania, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Kansas, and Iowa were able to celebrate and mourn a life that was devoted to others, especially others from Latin America as Nate's next step would have showed. It upset us that Nate will never be able to go to Brazil after sitting in many buses and taxis in Costa Rica, hearing how his life was slowly but profoundly being changed by God to have a bleeding heart for Latinos (Spanish speaking and Portuguese alike!). Oh how we all would have wished to hear stories about Nate's blunders in learning a new language. I guess we never will.

It almost feels uncomfortable not to end with some spiritual saying or overused cliche, but I think it's better to end things in the unknown. Maybe it will help us trust God in spite of our contradicting emotions rather than be wooed by the answers that have always been dictated to us (and may or may not be actual truth... something I intend on processing with you all in the coming days).

A job...

2006-07-16T19:31:00.000-04:00

My lack of updates has been evident in the past weeks! I have a job at the Neighborhood Christian Legal Clinic in Indianapolis, with whom I will perform a variety of tasks. I described a little bit about the organization in my previous email, but my tasks will be translation for the Hispanic clients, processing paperwork and writing letters in Spanish and English, some secretarial/administrative work, along with promised "leeway" to pursue some of my interests within the organization. It falls exactly in line with my post college aspirations for how I wanted to serve and learn from Spanish speakers. I can't wait.

Until then (Aug. 28), I'm going to be spending as much quality time with my family and friends here in western NY! I'm also reading "The Story We Find Ourselves In" by Brian McLaren, working out a lot, and playing "Settlers of Catan" a lot with the Reitnours. The conference schedule at Houghton is crazily busy, which keeps me scrubbing toilets and mopping floors 5-10 times per day.

a week of refreshment and productivity

2006-06-24T09:42:00.000-04:00

My title describes my time in Indianapolis that ended a week ago. All signs, especially the ones that I'm reminded of and directed towards in my prayers and conversations, are pointing to Indianapolis. As I was an hour outside of the city on my way home, I received a call from the director of the Neighborhood Christian Legal Clinic (www.nclegalclinic.org). There is a job in this organization who provides free legal services for those below the legal poverty level. I would not only be using my degree in Spanish but especially my passion for Latinos, as many of the people who receive these services are Latin American immigrants in Indianapolis. I am in the interview process and would keep you all updated when there are updates. Praise the Lord for the many doors he has opened in this whole process, but especially how he has been faithful and compassionate to me in the struggles of the shut doors.

For clarification, I promise you, all the Latinos about whom I speak are not all Mexicans, and yes, there is a huge population of Latinos in Indianapolis, of all places. A number of people have responded in shock that there are Hispanics outside of the southwest, Miami, and California. They are the largest non-white minority in the U.S. I have also received hostility about helping undocumented (yes undocumented, not illegal) immigrants, because of three different reasons: they take our tax dollars, most of them are criminals, and some of them are even druggies. Many of these are false conceptions and ways of dehumanizing our brothers and sisters. I'm challenging myself and I also challenge you to be more informed as the current protests by Latin American Immigrants are being seen as a new civil rights movement like that of the blacks in the sixties and seventies.

Indianapolis

2006-06-12T23:20:00.000-04:00

Look back to exactly a year ago on my blog and read my thoughts from Indianapolis. That's where I find myself now, in the presence of Aram and Larry Mitchell and others from their church community. While today was more of a chill day, the next few days are going to be taken up by some meetings with potential employers/volunteer opportunities to work with the large population of Hispanics here in Indianapolis. I here there is a need for bilingual people - I wouldn't consider myself bilingual, but when stuck in the Spanish environment I can understand and get across what would need to be communicated. I probably shouldn't be in emergency situations as the clear communication might take longer, but anything else I imagine I'd do fine.

So, I haven't blogged in a while because my journal/prayer/reading time has been virtually nonexistent. But, I do value this as keeping you all up to date on the happenings of how life is living on me. If you think about it, send a prayer or a word of encouragement as I have now entered fully into what people call the job hunt. It's new for me.

A new but familiar life...

2006-05-22T16:31:00.000-04:00

Well, I graduated a week and a half ago and now have begun working at Houghton for the Conference Office... Life is new because I have a college degree under my belt, but familiar because I worked this job after I graduated from high school and at the beginning of last summer. It's nice to get settled at home, coach my brother's little league team again, and be in a place where I have access to communication for what is next after August. Lots of people have asked what is next - my thoughts as of now are to move to Indianapolis, where friends such as David and Laura Zigler, Aram and Larry Mitchell reside and are a part of a church community in which I am interested. Since there are a lot of Latin Americans in the Indy area, I'm searching for jobs that would allow me to have interaction with them. I ultimately would like to see what life is like for the Latin American immigrant, so we can know how to show Christ to them through acts of mercy and justice. This is where I'm thinking God wants me to go, but I'm still praying and searching, and hoping you who read this would offer your prayers to God and any guidance to me of which you can think. More blogs to come, most likely.

Countdowns

2006-05-01T22:10:00.000-04:00

12 days until graduation
5 projects left (3 papers, 1 project, 1 take home final)
43 more residents to check out of the townhouses (I'm the head resident)
15 days until I begin my summer job

Maybe I'll actually care to write blogs over the summer... maybe not - I don't know yet.

the unknown

2006-04-20T10:07:00.000-04:00

Can any of you college seniors or those right out of college relate to the feeling of the unknown as my graduation is in 3.5 weeks? It's amazing how much security we gain from knowing that we still have another year of high school, another semester in college, longer time to live somewhat off of our parents. It's become even more real now that my 30 page paper and 50 minute presentation in my Bible Senior Seminar is over! Just about 30 more pages in papers, one final, and a huge project to go before I join my comrades for the final ceremonies. I have faith that wavers every so often in this unknown haze, hoping that all these years I've spent learning through classes and friendships will translate somehow to what is next.

I'd like to hear some insight, over comments or email or phone from those of you who have taken this step... Cheers.

a week of Psalms

2006-04-10T15:01:00.000-04:00

It's 3:00 in the afternoon and so far today I have made my way through some of the introductory parts of my Bible Senior Seminar project. This is what I will be doing for most of the daylight hours of our lengthy Easter Break. This project is on the interaction between God's people, the economically poor, and the government that comes out of the Psalms. I'm taking it more from the perspective of the economically poor/politically oppressed, specifically the hope that the people of God and the King (or the government) will act mercifully and justly towards the poor. How are you doing in this?

It's fascinating and overwhelmingly challenging stuff, something I'm not only studying intellectually but trying to take specific action this week to put myself physically and mentally as close as possible I can to the position of the poor as a middle-class American. As I leave you with the beginning of Psalm 72, the Psalm I am exegeting in most depth, I welcome any comments that would help me in this pursuit.

Psalm 72 - "Prayer for Guidance and Support for the King." (Of Solomon)
Give the king your justice, O God, and your righteousness to a king's son.
May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice.
May the mountains yield prosperity for the people, and the hills, in righteousness.
May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the needy, and crush the oppressor. (1-4)

Haircut Tuesdays

2006-04-04T18:52:00.000-04:00

Upon waking this morning...

2006-04-04T18:51:00.000-04:00

After - and yes, this is what I do right before breaks and don't have anything due...

2006-03-31T19:31:00.000-05:00

Graciela and LeSeanDelicious... I don't know how to explain this one.

2006-03-31T19:19:00.000-05:00

Sarah and I all decked out for the international banquet...

2006-03-31T19:16:00.000-05:00

Ben and Anne sporting their Middle Eastern garb at the international banquet.

My every-two-week post

2006-03-30T23:32:00.000-05:00

It's amazing what spring time brings here at Houghton. It's been between 50 and 65 the past few days, and every grassy spot around campus has been used for football, frisbee, tanning the New York pasty white skin, or book consumption. There is a new spirit on our campus - it's encouraging - praise God.

I have been consuming many books recently, some for my Politics class, but have especially been challenged and inspired by way of Brian McLaren's "A New Kind of Christian." It's a book that Aram let me borrow for about 5 months and I never took a peek. Thanks to Dr. Case in Christianity and Postmodernism, I have to read it. Our class has been full of intense conversation and debate about some of McLaren's claims that come indirectly through an ongoing dialogue with a burnt-out pastor (Dan) and a high school science teacher with a seminary degree, former pastor (Neo).

One thing that came up today that McLaren challenges is the typical divide in how people view the Bible. Some fundamentalists pound the pulpit with it and say that all life's answers come through it - some liberals pick it to pieces and disregard some or much of it. I'm in that place now in my life where I've been at both extremes, and I agree with McLaren that I need to come out in the middle somewhere. That may sound like a cop-out answer, but either extreme seems to emphasize that us humans have figured God out and are going to limit Him/Her to our interpretation. I'm not willing to do that, and I don't think anybody approaching God in that manner is justified.

I know this is a limited thought, but that is sorta what comes from blogging at college, unless you really need some friends. Maybe you could tell me through a comment or email about your current journey with the Bible? I'd love to hear.

discontent with technology and media

2006-03-16T09:35:00.000-05:00

If you aren't already experiencing the sentiment in my title, read Jean Baudrillard, a postmodern theorist. Besides my annoyance of how technology consumes many of our lives, Baudrillard has articulated some things we as Christians need to think about. He's known in the discipline of Postmodernism for the term hyperreality:

"Hyperreality does not mean 'unreality', but rather identifies a culture in which the fantastical creations of media, film, and computer technologies have come to be more real for us, and to interact more fundamentally with our experiences and desires, than the hitherto predominant realities of nature or spiritual life." - (From Simon Malpas' "The Postmodern")

I ask myself is this is truth for my life - how have I allowed technology and media shape my life, my identity falsely? Do I say things through this blog or over email that I wouldn't be able to say to people's faces? I would turn these questions to all of you - you don't need to be a scholar to answer this! What do y'all think?

digging

2006-03-01T15:42:00.000-05:00

This week off has been spent digging up stuff that I have buried... some treasures were found in my visit to Geneva College earlier this week, another was found today when I have begun digging through my email to find things to which I've yet to reply. Here's something Aram Mitchell sent me in response to an email back in early February. It's certainly been a source of hope for me today.

sometimes like a stinky landfill. sometimes like a big strong oak tree.
and sometimes like an oak tree planted in the middle of a landfill trying to find enough nutrients to grow up big and strong.
i know what you mean. and i think a couple thousand years of christian tradition does too. we're all, certainly, in this one together.
thank God (quite literally) for the nourishing stream of grace that flows through the midst of this dump we live in. there's a garden under there somewhere still, i'm convinced of it - or at least i believe in it, sometimes both.
i also believe very much in your big-oak-heart.
pass your days picking up trash and looking for flowers that poke out at you from between mcdonalds cups and styrafoam bowls. i'll try and do the same.

with love,
aram
('and now with God's help i will become who i am..')

a well-timed break

2006-02-25T09:40:00.000-05:00

Normally, the Houghton Spring semester includes a week-long break and a long weekend. This year we get two week long breaks. One started yesterday. It feels like I blinked on January 9 and February 25 suddenly appeared. Because of a few unexpected happenings and doing an entire chapel, this first half at times tended to include the word "busy," a word that I loathe because of its overuse and its detriment to a lot of friendships I've had. February break has come at an ideal time - with many large, senior-type projects to do in the upcoming two months, I feel like my head might get put on straight with time to relax, spend quality time with my family and Sarah's family, and work hard for a few days as well.

One thing that's been on my mind to write on this blog has come as a result of a class that I am taking called "America and the World." It is looking at the United States' relationship with the rest of the world, especially through the means of foreign policy. I guess I want to send my apologies to those of you who read my blog last semester and were offended or utterly confused at from where my perspectives were coming. Part of this was you weren't living in the context I was; the other part was my opinions sometimes were based on emotional arguments rather than objective truth (which in politics can be incredibly hard or impossible to find). This doesn't mean that we can discount some of the perspectives that I heard or my reflections upon them, because they are people with specific experiences as well. My apology is that I wrote things that we're unfair to you all who weren't having the same experiences, and they were written without a balance of other perspectives.

All that to say, my mind is being expanded while my heart continues to bleed for Latin Americans and United States citizens. It's nice to have a passionate prof by the name of Dr. Peter Meilaender as well, someone who is not an overworked, sleepless scholar but someone who engages his students and pushes them towards truth.

I still want to go back to Cuba.

2006-02-15T20:49:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Jacob from Iowa, in the center, for sending this gem. Missin' all my LASPers!

Library musings...

2006-02-08T12:04:00.000-05:00

I find myself in the basement of the Willard J. Houghton library; a place I have dwelled many days and nights for the last 3 years. It's sad but also good that this is the last semester I get to spend long hours here. There has been a longing inside of me to go and do something, to get out of the classroom and this library and interact with people outside of the Christian college setting. Then I remember the privilege it is to be able to study; to be in a community of people who care about each other; to have people with whom to vent and laugh. Inside of myself is this screaming for something different coupled with the love that I have for this place, and the people who inhabit it.

Does anybody else ever have these feelings? There are days where it has been hard to be content, but other days where contentment seems to come easy. I wonder if this is a common thing, whether you people are in college or out.

2006-01-29T00:04:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Chuck Meeks, a picture of my faith journey in chapel was captured on camera. After over a week of pouring much thought and energy into this, being battered in many ways, God proved faithful - thanks be to His Spirit. Thanks for all your support and encouragement before and after. Without the support from my community of friends and family, Satan would have got a larger foothold than he did in the ups and downs of this pursuit.

Chapel on Friday

2006-01-23T23:17:00.000-05:00

Hey friends, family, loved ones:
I would covet your prayers and words of wisdom as I have been asked to share my faith journey in chapel this Friday. Pray especially that I would be humbled before God so that his grace will guide me, not my desire for accomplishment. Thanks all!

2006-01-20T14:17:00.000-05:00

So, this one was in a tie for the yearbook photo. After much debate, I submitted to my family's advice by putting the most serious one for the yearbook. This shows my face, yes, and shows something that is worshipful for me - God's creative beauty. Thanks for helping!

PLEASE VOTE!

2006-01-13T23:01:00.000-05:00

I need to turn a senior picture in for the yearbook, but I need everybody's help. Please vote for the picture that you think best represents me, or makes you laugh the most. To vote, make a comment on the picture you'd like... if you don't know how to make a comment, click on the link for "0 comments" and type your comment, making yourself a guest. Thanks all... I'll let you know the winner.

2006-01-13T22:56:00.000-05:00

Escaping from Miami Beach toward Cuba

2006-01-13T22:55:00.000-05:00

On the edge in Sequoia NP, central-western California

2006-01-13T22:53:00.002-05:00

Observing the attack of a blood-thirsty predator in our apartment last April

2006-01-13T22:53:00.001-05:00

The 60 something foot green giant statue in Blue Earth, MN, our most random stop on the road trip

2006-01-13T22:53:00.000-05:00

Working on my washboard abs at Sleeping Bear Dunes in Northwestern Michigan

2006-01-13T22:50:00.000-05:00

Discouraged over a flat tire at Camp Hickory Hill, just before Godspeed played for the Freshman retreat last fall

2006-01-13T22:38:00.000-05:00

The most standard yearbook picture, snapped in Rocky Mountain NP in Estes Park, CO

2006-01-13T22:37:00.000-05:00

Gazing into the eyes of Injun Jim at Wall Drug in South Dakota

2006-01-13T22:33:00.000-05:00

Taking in the Black Mountains in Western NC with my camera hanging from a tree branch...

a different character

2006-01-12T17:34:00.000-05:00

This semester is proving to have a different character than the rest of my time here in school. All in all my excitement to learn has never been greater. This learning is not limited to head knowledge, but shows itself in the many conversations, meals, and weight-lifting times, aka life events. This seems more possible because I have made decisions, or simply said no, to many distractions that make me busy, which seems to be the word that defines many people around here. My classes only add up to twelve credits, and they are these:

America and the World, a political science reading seminar with nine books regarding international relations (or the lack thereof, sometimes); Major Figures in Theology - a look at about 30 major figures in historic Christianity, all the way from the Apostolic Fathers to Martin Luther King, seeing their part in history as well as additions to what is the Christian worldview today ; Senior Seminar in Bible - studying the book of Psalms historically as a book of prayer, as well as the reality of how the writers were honest, sometimes brutally, with God (and that is okay); Christianity and Postmodernism - a gaze into the phenomenom of postmodernity, it's historical roots and influence on us today, looking at how it has bled into our churches, theology books, and lifestyles as followers of Christ.

If any of you reading this are not seniors like me, I am creating a theory that the way to avoid senioritis is to do a study abroad program or a program here in the states. It throws a twist into your education, and especially allows you to see outside the shell of traditional American education. If you're like me, it will give you a new spirit with which to bring back to your school.

back for the last time

2006-01-08T00:46:00.000-05:00

Yeah it's only five minutes down the road to my habitation at college, but it is a significant change from being at home, not having a schedule or routine. That's where I am headed today for my last semester as an undergrad! Crazy Crazy crazy!

nuggets

2006-01-04T00:09:00.000-05:00

man... the nuggets of wisdom fly around constantly in this world in which we live. This is especially true when we desire it; or more specifically, intend on finding it in others. In a conversation with Pastor Wes Oden, my mentor and shepherd at my home church, I discovered some more. It started by I quoting him something that impacted my faith. It was in an article I read recently, where David Hilfiker quotes a familiar passage in Micah 6:8:

"He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."

Then, he questions in response: "But what if our love of mercy chokes out our ability to act justly?" He goes on to say in the article that many times, our acts of charity, which are important nevertheless, can drown out the root reasons of why the people or person are in the condition where they need charity. This idea in and of itself molded my faith in a very significant way.

But, Pastor Wes turned us both to the third mandate in this passage: "Walk humbly with your God." In that moment we both realized that many times we take one of Micah's commands, maybe two, but rarely ever three. The third is probably the most important, because without the recognition of our need for grace, we won't be able to put others before ourselves to act justly or to love mercy.

Of course, Don Miller added to all this tonight:
"The most difficult lie I have ever contended with is this: Life is a story about me."

"We must become the change we want to see in the world." - Gandhi

read

2006-01-03T01:11:00.000-05:00

Blue Like Jazz... wherever you find yourself regarding the Christian faith, for it, against it, frustrated with it... borrow the book, buy it, discuss it, and you will have late nights like I am having interacting with Miller in his incredibly honest, real, and poignant style of writing.

A visionary but simple statement after thinking about how in his life he had failed with the combination of faith and politics:
"The truth is we are supposed to love the hippies, the liberals, and even the Democrats, and that God wants us to think of them as more important than ourselves. Anything short of this is not true to the teachings of Jesus."

(after his current church in Portland decided to take steps personally and communally to do this)
"Lots of people started coming to church after that. I don't know why, honestly, except that we all agreed we would love people and be nice to them and listen and make friends."

the last movie of 2005

2006-01-01T00:38:00.000-05:00

Was watched today with my brother in Geneseo: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I am a little delayed because of being gone when it first came out, so if this is old news for you fanatics, I'm sorry. C.S. Lewis' masterpiece was brought to a new life on the screen today, portraying his beautiful, fictitious tale that reveals much about his idea of God. My personal highlight was at the end of the film, when I thought it ended prematurely as the professor threw Peter the cricket ball Edmund had hit through the house window. I said to Jonathan, "No, they missed the most important line!" (which as you will see is the setup for the continuing series). However, in true Aram Mitchell fashion, we gazed back as we were walking out to see the professor say this in summary, because I am quoting from the source:

"No," he said, "I don't think it will be any good trying to go back through the wardrobe door to get the coats. You won't get into Narnia again by that route. Nor would the coats be much use by now if you did! Eh? What's that? Yes, of course you'll get back to Narnia again some day. Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia. But don't go trying to use the same route twice. Indeed, don't try to get there at all. It'll happen when you're not looking for it. And don't talk too much about it even among yourselves. And don't mention it to anyone else unless you find that they've had adventures of the same sort themselves."

Makes you think about the many perspectives of the "way to salvation", huh?

a response...

2005-12-30T16:57:00.000-05:00

In response to my last post, I received some feedback over email from my Dad in Boston this week... It was very insightful, so I thought I would share it with you.

Dad: Just finished reading your blog entry - guess I need to read that book you mentioned. I like the quote and I was agreeing with your commentary until that last statement - still puzzling about how the way America overcelebrates Christmas relates to our need to admit that we are the biggest beast we face.

Me: What I am trying to say through this is that until us individuals admit our excess living as Americans, our country as a whole won't be much different. Excess living, to me, is exemplified in Christmas, where even though I pretend to make it about Christ, the excitement has been focused around the gift exchanges. I feel as if this is getting better in my life, but what I witnessed in some members of our extended family this past weekend, it's the same. Our culture is getting even worse - this was made real to me when I was listening to some television talk-shows commenting on Christmas. This has been something that has bothered me since my sophomore year of college, but as enlarged when I lived on dirt floors in Nicaragua this past semester.

Dad: Should have been clearer with my question - the quote and your initial comments about it made me think about my own personal issues, the way that I often blame others for my problems or condition without acknowledging my own responsibility. I was reading this as a personal thing, so when your final comment was about American Christmas excesses I was disappointed that a great point was getting lost in what seemed like America-bashing.

And I recognize that part of the problem sometimes with American evangelicalism is the tendency to personalize everything as in "just me and Jesus on the Jericho road" and that's not right, either, but I don't want to see people despairing over the condition of America while ignoring their own hearts.

... What do you all think that are reading this?

these days

2005-12-26T22:40:00.000-05:00

What am I doing these days?
An old friend and fellow Fillmore graduate Brian just departed after a coffee with my new french press, a great chat about our cross-cultural experiences, as well as watched the new and "improved" Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. What an odd, but witty at times, flick. Because of our decreasing attention spans, the new version is more fast paced, with less lethargy like the first. But, you can't beat Grandpa Joe and Charley Bucket of the first Willy Wonka! And, Veruca didn't say the snozberry line, one of the most repeated movie lines in my life.

Anyway, the conversation with Brian was one reflective of the many that I have had since returning to the U.S. at Christmas time from foreign, two-thirds world cultures (because 2/3 of the world's population can now be classified as the former third world, a term created during the Cold War as those who didn't want associations with either the U.S. (1st) or Russia (2nd). All in all I am a little overwhelmed with the materialistic ways of my life, as well as the obsession of our nation's people as a whole.

Don Miller put me in my place in Blue Like Jazz, a book that I have read most of in random spots and random times, but now that I was given a copy I am reading it thoroughly. He states,

"I think every conscious person, every person who is awake to the functioning principles within his or her reality, has a moment where he or she stops blaming the problems in the world on group think, on humanity and authority, and starts to face him or herself. I hate this more than anything. This is the hardest principle within Christian spirituality for me to deal with. The problem is not out there; the problem is the needy beast of a thing that lives in my chest."

This is what overwhelms me as we speak... I am standing face to face with the fact that this beast I blame as someone else or a group of people is a lot of times me. I know that sometimes it is not the easiest thing to stand face to face with our brokenness, but isn't that better than fooling ourselves? Isn't it when we claim this emptyness we can be filled by someone who took on our condition and lived flawlessly? We must stop blaming those people out there, even satan at times, but take the blame ourselves. Until then, our current American celebration of Christmas will be every day of the year: obstinant to the Son of God himself behind our screen of excessed living.

No, you don't need that Dan.

a christmas thought

2005-12-24T22:45:00.000-05:00

My prayer and plea for myself, you, our churches, our communities, our county, our state, our nation, and our globe is that these words of "O Holy Night" that go through our ears every Christmas will actually become truth in our actions, in our hearts.

Truly He taught us to love one another
His law is love and His gospel is peace
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother
And in His name all oppression shall cease

May the celebration of Christmas that typically gets lost behind whether or not our new clothes fit, or loaded under all the massive amounts of cookies we eat, be one that individually, corporately, and structurally makes decisions toward love, peace, breaking chains, and ending oppression. What are some of these decisions we need to make?

2005-12-23T13:26:00.000-05:00

have you ever seen a tree so similar to the Charlie Brown Christmas tree? Thank you CEDESCRI, the organization I worked with in Guatemala, for this display. Merry Christmas, all!

Fillmore Gym Surprises

2005-12-21T21:31:00.000-05:00

Let's just say that the least expected events, people, and situations are the ones that surprise us the most. Following dinner tonight, my family (minus my beautiful sister) traveled the four miles to the village of Fillmore - where I chose to continue public high school rather than walking for eight minutes to attend to the local Christian school. I made many memories - in the classroom of Mr. Mullen; on the stage of our auditorium as Charlie Brown and Mr. Bumble; but also on the soccer field, baseball diamond, and basketball court. That basketball court was the setting of tonight's surprises, as I like to go back to see all the random people that were important in the formation of who I am. Fresh off of a cross-cultural experience, my sentiments were of ambivalence - who will I run into? What will be the conversation topic?

I first ran into Ben Scott. The valedictorian of our class, Ben was one of my core defenders as goalie in the soccer team. We also spent times in study halls and lunch, laughing incredibly hard. He recently graduated from Syracuse's school of environmental science. Because of my focus on sustainable development this semester, I was wondering how he interacted with that in his field. In fact, he studied significantly in this topic that is very hot in conservation as it relates to economics. To make a short statement on what sustainable development is - it's the practice of development in agricultural or environmental arenas that can be sustained for the generations to come. It is tied directly into our daily lives as we make decisions that support one end or the other - buying a carton of fries from McDonalds or buying a potato from the local grocery store to make our own french (or freedom?) fries could be a practical example.

The second topic of conversation was about how our specific fields of study have caused us to look at the Bible in different ways. For him, this was studying evolutionary theories, observing how they have been proved scientifically, wondering how this gels with what is read in the Bible. Mine was more along the lines of interacting with Liberation Theology, which looks at the Bible from people who are actually poor and oppressed. Ben said a few poignant things that sum up our conversation very well:
"How many people in this gym have thought about sustainable development, and how that relates to our lives?"
"What a responsibility we have to use what we have learned to affect those around us here in Allegany County, but in the U.S. and around the world as well."
"Dan, it's amazing how through different paths we have come to similar conclusions about something in my major (environmental science), and your major (Bible)."

After this conversation, our agriculture teacher in high school began conversing with us. I let him know about my journeying in Cuba, and we spent the next 10 minutes discussing how most of the information we have on Cuba here in the U.S. is skewed, unless you look hard. We also talked about how our county could be a microcosm for the struggle of the small farmer conflict that exists all around our global world. Nothing like light discussion for an evening at the basketball game!

I could write forever on just these two conversations, but have been inspired to decide that I will put these efforts into writing my first book. I have to tell you all that after I thought of this I said it would be cool if I could start this on January 1st... then I realized how traditional and cheesy that it would be, so I think December 21st (aka winter solstice) will put me on the best seller list next to Bruce Wilkinson and Rick Warrenson... I just decided their names need to be combined into Brick Warrenson. Ha ha... Brick Warrenson.

Bless me indeed.

2005-12-21T09:42:00.000-05:00

to where I was Sunday evening here in Houghton!

2005-12-21T09:30:00.001-05:00

The contrast of where I was on Friday in South Beach...

2005-12-21T09:30:00.000-05:00

Kristen (Bethel MN) and I in our garb after our performance in the LASP talent show!

2005-12-21T09:27:00.000-05:00

We received a piece of propaganda from the U.S. Interests section in Cuba, with a Cuban on the front running in the ocean towards Miami. I decided the way I feel was the opposite, so in Miami Beach this past weekend I ran towards Cuba.

Back to Winter

2005-12-19T14:43:00.000-05:00

I wanted to give y'all the update that last night at 5:35 I was reunited with Rebecca and my family in the Rochester airport. After eating at Cracker Barrel, I returned home and slept for nearly 12 hours after pulling an all-nighter with my LASP friends is Miami. Now is the hardest part for me... I am confused, longing to reunite with those I love the most, but also wondering how I can apply what I have learned. I would appreciate your prayers in the unrest of my heart.

My first prayer is that Christmas will be a restful time, not only for me but for all of you during a time that our hyper-consuming culture makes so materialistic. We cannot worry about the damn presents... we should give ourselves to enjoying people, especially our family and friends we may not have connected with in months or years. Most importantly, all cultures around the world that celebrate Christmas are celebrating the coming of the Being who showed us how all of our religions fall short of the loving relationship with Him/Her and with others. We cannot let ourselves lose sight of this, plain and simply.

2005-12-17T16:40:00.000-05:00

A view of the volcano on Lake Atitlan in the western highlands of Guatemala... I was actually here two years ago with the HC basketball team.

2005-12-17T16:39:00.000-05:00

a glimpse of Antigua, an amazing colonial town where we spent our last evening in Central America

2005-12-17T16:38:00.000-05:00

Riding in trucks to various sites that the catholic church of San Lucas is working on development projects.

2005-12-17T16:37:00.000-05:00

Yes, this is one of our leaders, Gerardo, posing with the Bob Marley hair!

2005-12-17T16:36:00.000-05:00

Kristen (Bethel), and Mindy (our intern), and I posing with the pawed-up deer in a restaurant in Guatemala

2005-12-17T16:35:00.000-05:00

My organization stay group in Guatemala... Lindsey (Lipscomb), Merry (Seattle Pacific), and Manuel (Trinity Western).

Bienvenido a Miami

2005-12-17T16:21:00.000-05:00

Today marks the last official day of the semester in LASP... We are here in Miami after some free time before we hit up a Cuban restaurant in Little Habana. I don't know when the emotions of leaving all my new brothers and sisters will sink in, but it is going to fairly soon. I can't believe it's over... I can't believe I am going home, although I look forward to the relationships that have seemed to be on hold. I ask for your prayers and encouragement as I make this transition. As we have done some reentry exercises, I have realized how much all of our group has changed throughout the semester. This includes me to one of the highest degrees! How wonderful, and at times hard it will be to spend Christmas break with my beautiful family and Rebecca.

In other news, Chuck Meeks and Cherith Reynolds (Chuck and Cherith Meeks) got married today! I wish that I could have been there to share this celebration with them, because I saw their relationship from the beginning in Godspeed, and spent the whole past summer on the road with Chuck. However, I love them and support this covenant, knowing that the community is there celebrating with them today!

2005-12-05T10:34:00.000-05:00

Greetings from Guatemala City... somehow, the seminary we are staying in until tomorrow morning has wireless internet. I wanted to post this, my last picture with my Costa Rican family, taken at 6:00 in the morning before we headed to the airport for Guatemala. In reflecting on this experience now, I recognize the lessons, challenges, and blessings of the home stay with Jesus, Sonia, and Christian. I am sure I will continue to as the days, weeks, and years after this experience continue to build. In other news, I will be heading to my organization stay with 3 others tomorrow morning, a farm attempting sustainable agriculture on a small scale. I am excited!

2005-12-03T10:35:00.000-05:00

My bro, Christian, and I, last night before I left... I am actually in the airport now, so goodbye Costa Rica! off to Guate-mal-a landia... See you all soon!

Despedidas

2005-12-01T18:33:00.000-05:00

A good buddy of mine, Rachel Schumacher, wrote this to me about her time so far in Japan, a place where it has been hard for her to see God or any followers of Him.

¨Being asked if I'm a Christian, I want to say (as someone once said) - Tell me your idea of what a Christian is and I'll tell you if I'm a Christian. - And give me a chance to try and explain to you what being a Christian is about.¨

This has been something that has been a consistent theme of my thoughts, conversations, and prayers throughout this semester. While I feel a lot of things had to be deconstructed, I do not think it was damaging to my relationship with the living God, and my relationship with others. In fact, I believe it has sharpened my faith to make me more aware of God, others, and ultimately the world in which we live. It seems necessary to question, doubt, listen, cry, and laugh, along with many other things, so that our relationship with God and others is continually growing, becoming wiser, more loving.

With these thoughts, a finished concentration, I will spend my last day here in San José tomorrow before we leave early Saturday morning for the wounded land of Guatemala. The reason I say wounded is because of the rough history it has been through in the last fifty or so years, including the current reality of picking up after Hurricane Stan, as well as the security issues with a number of incredibly violent gangs that commit brutal acts. I ask that you would pray for the reality of this country to be exposed to me in a new way, because as many of you know, I went in 2003 with the HC basketball team for a few weeks. I am incredibly excited for what God will have for me to learn about his world and children through this time.

On December 18th I return to Houghton, NY after a reentry seminar for a few days in Miami. I am taking the rest of my time day by day, not knowing the surprises of each, but look forward to seeing all of you, and talking face to face. Enjoy your Christmas season... I pray fervently, as I pray for myself because of the hard reality of our culture, that each of uswill not get caught up in the, but truly enjoy the blessing of family, and the mysterious reality of Jesus' birth!

2005-11-27T18:27:00.000-05:00

Last night I had the privilege to eat dinner in Heredia, about 20 minutes from my house, with the Loaiza family of Sebastian Loiaza. From left and their relation to Sebas, Jaime (dad), Santi (bro), Raquel with Andres (sis in law and nephew), Leo (bro), Ana (aunt), and Heidi (Mom). What a wonderful night of great food, great discussion, and the privilege to meet people who have been influential to my good friends, the Loaizas!

2005-11-27T18:24:00.000-05:00

My parents at parque de las diversiones, similar to an amusement park. We went and walked around a bit, but didn't pay to ride anything... thankfully!

2005-11-27T18:22:00.000-05:00

I couldn't help but get a close up of this chiquitico.