Brothers

I talked with Luke a couple of nights ago for an hour, the most we've talked in a while due to our busy summer schedules -- he of the cross-country tour of the U.S. and me of the youth ministry assortment of constant activity and preparation for the next activity. It was really great to catch up and hear some of his stories from his trip. His trips to the ballparks provide enough laughter for the whole trip already, I think. Most recently, at Camden Yards in Baltimore, he told a scalper that he was looking for a free ticket, to which the guy replied with a "you've-got-to-be-kidding-me" response of "Free ticket?!" then promptly gave him one and walked off! Luke had to chase after the guy to get his name and thank him.

It was also good to talk with him because I miss him. I'm very thankful for mobile phones and being able to stay connected that way, but there's something special about talking with someone face-to-face. Which makes me that much more excited about my upcoming trip to Boston over Labor Day weekend. Luke will be arriving the same day several (nine) of my friends and I do. I can't wait to catch up and listen to his stories. My friends are pretty excited about hanging out with him too. They've been gracious with me, I think, in allowing me to continue to update them on his adventures.

Probably the best thing that came from my conversation with Luke happened the following night. I was walking around our neighborhood, exercising my ankle in prep for Trek in a few days. (By the way, it feels great. I had some soreness in my left knee, I think because of the brace I'm wearing on my ankle; it doesn't allow me complete flexibility. But that wasn't unbearable.) For the last half of my walk, I spent time praying; I'll admit that during some of that time, I kept my headphones on so random passers-by would think I was singing. But then the headphones became annoying, so I took them off. During that prayer time, I was able to visualize and feel Jesus listening to me like Luke did the night before; I could experience Christ as my brother because of my brother. I thought about Jesus laughing at some of my thoughts and concerns, not in a demeaning way, but in a brotherly "I know what you mean" type of way. I could hear him say things are going to be ok; I could accept that he is proud of me and confident in what he's doing in me. I could relax and accept his goodness and love towards me because I know what it's like to do that with Luke.

And I think my requests were made a little more confidently, along the lines of Jesus telling us to "ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find it, knock and the door will be opened." It was very similar to watching The Passion of the Christ and connecting with Jesus as a son as I watched him interact with Mary. I could relate to that relationship because of my mom; I could relate to my Savior more deeply and know in my heart and mind he really does know what it's like to be me. He's been there. He knows the frustrations and joys of life. He knows the paths we trod. He feels the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the ebbs and flows. He knows our darkness and loves us still the same. He knows our weaknesses and wants a chance to shine through them. He lovingly smiles at us as he walks beside and whispers,

"My love for you will never die. This world tried to get rid of me, but I overcame everything that was thrown at me, even death. So do not fear, little sheep, you are in my arms. I promise to hold tight to you. I promise to journey with you. Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you. You are my joy. You are my glory. When I first created you, I noticed you and remarked that you were very good. I still believe that. I really do. And I'm going to continue, with all my heart and strength, to prove that to you. Taste and see that I am good. Trust me. I love you."

Loved first

Cornerstone was a great week. Our theme this year was CrossWalk, focusing on Christ as our passage to safety, peace, life and eternity. The classes we taught were built around the idea of walking; thus, Daily Walk, Unity Walk, and Prayer Walk we some of the thirteen classes. At Cornerstone, since we operate on a much smaller budget than Zenith, the youth ministers take turns speaking in the evenings as keynotes, I guess. I got to speak one evening on "Peace to Live" and focused on peace not being the absence of struggles, but the presence of God in the midst of them. To flesh out that point, I closed with the video of Dick and Ricky Hoyt running the triathalon that I'd used last fall when I preached. It's such a great story and testimony; there are so many parallels between that and God's love for us -- I merely presented it.

I love the enthusiasm of middle schoolers. We divide the teens into groups of 18-20 for the week, so that they're with some kids from their youth groups but get a chance to meet others from elsewhere. This means that we have limited youth group time by ourselves (which is fine; it's one of the trade-offs in camp design). Anyway, our youth group time was Thursday night and listening to my kids go on and on about how they wished they could stay at camp all summer and what incredible experiences they were having really pumped me up. Their excitement, joy and appreciation for getting to be at a camp like that is really refreshing. I, along with many, many youth ministers, realize that we're seed-throwers; rarely do we see the full development of the ensuing plant and fruit. But we're afforded glimpses and being a part of the joy of these teens I believe was a glimpse. Contagious joy.
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My interns and some of the high school students have been working the past three days at Urban Connection near downtown San Antonio. It's a ministry based in one of the toughest, meanest housing projects in the city; we were working with their Kids' Kamp from 10:00-3:00. (I was down there with them Tuesday and today, but in the office yesterday.) What a difference a 20-minute drive can make. We showed the love of Jesus to them by playing games. And some more games. And playing in the water hose and with water balloons. And kickball. And so many others.

A few things stuck out to me:

• The kids who seemed to be least interested in playing the organized games we suggested and played were the ones wondering very loudly why we weren't coming back tomorrow.
• The ones who thought our VBS-type songs were stupid and rolled their eyes at us as we sang were the some of the same ones humming those tunes and singing a few of the words while we did other activities.
• I need a better song selection. I noticed how white our songs are. Not being racist, just honest. Music is its own language and it seemed we were singing in a foreign one to them.

It's hard to quantify or qualify the time we spent down there; I'm not sure how that translates in the kingdom or in the lives of my teens who went. But I don't want to think about that. I don't want to view this through the eyes of "Did we get something out of it and was it time well spent? Do my teens have a better appreciation for their situations than before?" What I really want for them is to be people who are involved in the lives of others because that's what Jesus was about. Forget about what I gain from it; we love because we have been loved first.

Survived but...

really tired. Our Lock-In is just finishing up; I'm feeling pretty good right now, but nine hours (10-7) is a bit much. Something like 12-6 will work better next time, I believe. Anyway, one of the guys who is having the sleep-depravation MRI done in a bit made it the whole night, so our job went well. The time between 4:30-6:00 were probably the toughest.

If there's any bad news, it's that now I'm too tired to try to finish the sixth Harry Potter book until I wake up this afternoon. Sheesh -- sacrifices. I'm about three-fifths of the way through it; I'll probably try to knock it out by this evening. Great fun.

Cornerstone went really well; I'll have to recap it at another time. Got to see some of my friends I'd not seen in over a week, which was a great treat. Dark Water is kind of creepy, by the way.

Alright, I'm out.

Follow-up visit to the doc

One of the great insights I took from Searching for God Knows What was the idea that we are made to receive our confidence, value and identity from another being, namely God, but we struggle with that and look everywhere but him for that glory, that sense of purpose and meaning, that sense of things being right and good. God designed us to look outside of ourselves for all those things; he designed us to look to him. He also designed us to look to each other for relationships; we are relational beings as he is. I quoted Miller a few weeks ago and mention it here again, how striking it is that in paradise, Adam is lonely; in the midst of God's glorious creation, Adam feels the pangs of being without -- and God designed him that way!

With this in mind, I walked away from the doctor's office with another glimpse of how incredibly created we are, within and without, how when we go to a true source, someone who knows about our ailments, we can find confidence in their words and opinions. Dr. Allen was the attending doc who I've now seen a total of two times, but someone who I believe knows what he's doing. He pulled and jerked my ankle around a bit yesterday after the x-rays were taken; he told me I didn't need to see him any more, that what I need is time to heal my injury. He said I messed up my ligament and joint pretty good, but there didn't seem to a rupture or tear and there weren't any broken bones in the ankle (the fracture must've been from a previous injury and something my body's been dealing with pretty well). I asked him about my hiking trip in three weeks and he told me he thought I'd be good to go; it sounded like I'm going to be the one most able to determine how it's feeling when it comes time to hike. As I left, he said with a smile that he didn't expect to see me again and wished me luck.

I walked out of the office with a spring in my step, as much as I can have one with a still-sore ankle. For the past week, as I've been walking on it, I've been cautious and mindful of my steps and how much weight I'd put on it; as I left yesterday, my mind was eased of most of those thought -- not in a wreckless-I'm-ready-to-run-a-marathon way, but a renewed confidence that I can walk in a normal fashion without thinking about it too much. I can walk in faith and confidence that I'm on the road to being whole again. I can step out and trust my foot to absord the contact with the ground.

I took Dr. Allen's words to heart; I trusted his experience with these types of injuries to the point that my worries about not being able to go on Trek. That's the kind of trust and faith I'm hoping to have in the Creator. I'm longing to hear (not that he's not speaking, but I may not be attentive) his words of peace to me:

You are healed. You are forgiven. You are becoming whole again. Your heart is good. Trust me; I made you; I know these things. You are loved. You are loved.

At the table

I've been struggling internally with confidence, unsure and unwilling to realize that I've been knighted by the King as a son, his son. I find it difficult to remain focused on the blessing of sonship he's placed on me, to continually allow my mind and heart to believe what I want to believe more than anything else: that I am accepted as I am, that I have been chosen as I am. So I'm not surprised that I got teary-eyed this morning as I read this from The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning:

If Jesus appeared at your dining room table tonight with knowledge of everything you are and are not, total comprehension of your life story and every skeleton hidden in your closet; if He laid out the real state of your present discipleship with the hidden agenda, the mixed motives, and the dark desires buried in your psyche, you would feel His acceptance and forgiveness. For "experiencing God's love in Jesus Christ means experiencing that one has been unreservedly accepted, approved and infinitely loved, that one can and should accept oneself and one's neighbor. Salvation is joy in God which expresses itself in joy in and with one's neighbor." (p. 63)

There is something disturbingly comforting about those words. Maybe they assuage the fear I hold that Jesus might not find joy in me if we dined together; maybe they calm away the worries I harbor at times that God is out to get me for my wrongs. As Manning paints the picture in previous paragraphs of Jesus using his table as the expression of his love and acceptance of the scum of the earth, I reflect and wonder how tentative I am in accepting the invitation to dine with him. If Jesus accepts and forgives me where I am, why can't I? Since I'm looking for someone to validate me, why not the one who truly can?

As Jesus did for those who ate with him, I want him to do for us.

He freed them from self-hatred, exhorted them not to confuse their perception of themselves with the mystery they really were, gave them what they needed more than anything else--encouragement for their lives--and delivered reassuring words such as "Do not live in fear, little flock, don't be afraid; fear is useless, what is needed is trust; stop worrying; cheer up--your sins are all forgiven." (p. 62)

Thoughts emerging from my class for Cornerstone

Unity involves trust, humility, big ideas and goals, and love for something greater than self.

Unity does not mean one church building, but it does mean one church.

Unity does not mean conformity to one another; rather, it is conformity to Jesus Christ. That conformity manifests differently depending on time, place, setting and gifts.

Unity means we are in each other's lives -- "that just as you are in me and I am in you, so they will be in us, and the world will believe you sent me." (John 17:21, New Living Translation)

Unity is a patchwork quilt: separate pieces of cloth, differing in a beautiful array of ways (whether color, design, fabric, or shape), united as one by thread, which moves through and among to draw together. Unlike each piece sewn together, we have a choice; unity is a choice.

Unity is oneness. To attain oneness, we've got to get rid of everything but one. I think that one is Jesus. If so, we can't keep treating unity like the hokey-pokey with everyone getting to stick something in and out and dancing around like silly-persons. There is one uncompromisable thing: Jesus. Not being unified because of something else keeps His bride from being one. (And we know Jesus isn't a polygamist.) Can we trust each other to love God with all we have? Can we trust the Father to move us towards that?

Augustine said something similar to the following and he probably got it from somewhere in the Psalms: "Love God with all your heart and then do whatever you want." If we truly love God with all we have, "whatever we want" will be from and of him. Are we a trusting people? Do we have faith -- in God and each other? How big are our ideas -- of him and his goals? Is our love for something greater than ourselves?