Flare Request Friday: Heart Attack

I knew it was coming, but I thought I would have more time. I thought it would be a few more weeks, that maybe with all the busy and all the transition, maybe I would avoid it altogether.  

The other day I was praying with and for someone when it happened. Something snapped in me. All of the toughness, the steeling myself for what lies ahead...all of the resolve...the rationalization...just broke down. I want to blame it the chiropractor or some sketchy sushi. But I think it is just raw emotion.  

In about four weeks we will be leaving the healthiest, most passionate, most authentic community of faith we have ever been a part of. We will leave some of the best friends we have ever had. Asher will be saying goodbye to his first friends. We will be leaving the place our kids were born.  

This is tough.

No amount of excitement for what lies ahead can account for the emotions wrapped up in leaving here. That flood of emotions began to descend on me...and it is a bit early for all that blubbering. There is still much to be done.  

But I guess if we never stop to get some perspective, to let ourselves feel our emotions, aren't we running from something inherent to the image of God in us? We see that image of God often described in our wits, in the imprint of what is good and what is not, in our creativity and our wisdom. But what about our emotions?

God seems to get a bit emotional at times. There are moments in the Scripture when I get a little embarrassed, like I am reading His diary, something too intimate for my liking.  Jesus Himself gets angry, depressed, sad, and frustrated (also happy...he tells some great jokes). Emotions, like reason, come from our identity as the children of God. Often I don't like this, but it's true. Look it up.  

I like to think I can live above my emotions, and that they are a lesser part of who I am. I like to think I would be better off without them. Yet I cannot escape them. They are a part of me and they are a part of how God made all of us. We are emotional beings.  

For me, the flood of emotions has started. I think I will have some rough days over the next month, but I trust that God has an incredible plan for us and for Hopesprings, and that this adventure we are on is worth any tears that come with it. This flare request is for Summer and me, and for the people of Hopesprings in Bangor, that we would be able to ride the roller-coaster of emotions in a healthy way that reminds us of God's love for us and for the communities in Bangor and Sioux City that He is sending us to. 

What about you: Any emotions you have been fighting off that maybe you need to let yourself feel and be affected by?  

Throwback Thursday: Receiving Fire

It is pretty interesting - often profound - to think of what Jesus is looking at when he is saying something. There is research suggesting, for example, that when Jesus talks about having the faith to move mountains into the sea, it is quite possible he is looking at a mountain made by the power-hungry and self-obsessed King Herod. Colors the passage a bit, right? Today I wondered about something Jesus said:
Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it. -Luke 18.17

Normally we think of a child jumping into the arms of a loving parent. Or a child believing anything you say. They receive love and acceptance and cookies. The verse strikes me most often as a warm and inviting way of relating the trust children have implicitly in us as a model for our own trust in God, which is an incredibly meaningful understanding of those words.

But today I was thinking of how our son receives fire.

We were spending time with our life group tonight celebrating a Latvian teenager's half-birthday, because that is just something we do. When you have a party outside, s'mores make everything better, and fire helps. There was a good-sized fire going, and our almost-three-year-old, of course, immediately made a dash for it, wanted to put stuff in it, and generally wanted to be as dangerously close to it as I would let him be. Marshmallows, sadly, were lost, and sparks flew quite literally.

And Jesus' words began haunting me, like they do if you listen to them, take them into your guts, and let them fester. (In a good way, people!) Children receive things easily and completely. All things. Even (and maybe especially) dangerous things.

Asher had absolutely NO regard for the danger of the fire. For its heat. For the risks inherent to weaponizing a poker intended for mallow-roasting and flinging sparks like less-than-charming fireflies into a summer gathering of friends. He lived near the fire with total joy and a complete absence of fear.

Was Jesus sitting around a fire watching a dad hold back a three-year-old from the danger in front of him? Is this disregard for danger, an open embrace of risks barely-known (if at all), something of the kind of receiving Jesus invites us into as he calls us into his upside-down Kingdom?

Maybe.

I do know that this dream of planting Hopesprings in Sioux City is something I have referred to as "stupid". Stupid in the sense that it is risky, dangerous, and a leap into the unknown. Stupid in the eyes of some (including oftentimes myself) who want more certainty, diagrams, and an assurance that this will 'work'. It is a wild, unknown, and dangerous thing. I am thankful we have a Good Dad protecting us from the fire.

Yet he is also kindling in us a powerful vision of the kingdom of God realized in a city, in neighborhoods, in the lives of people captivated by the love of God on a dangerous mission of rescue. The mission that His son received, that killed Him, and that ultimately resulted not just in His resurrection but in mine, and the resurrection of people and communities willing to receive the good, crazy, upside-down news.

I want to receive things more like Asher does. He made me a little less afraid of the fire and a little more joyful on the journey we are on together.

I Was Wrong, I'm Sorry, and I Love You.

If you haven't said the title of this post to someone recently you are missing out.

I've had to say them. 

Yesterday.

Sharing your life with people, being honest, walking with people through their mess while dealing with your own...all of this creates tension. There will be offenses given and taken. Feelings and egos will get wounded. We will say and do things we shouldn't if we let people into our world and get into theirs.  

We have been in a place the last six years where people can be themselves. And be loved. Often in spite of ourselves. You know, kind of like how God loves us.

A place where you won't be written off when you make mistakes, because you are with your friends who are recovering from a bunch of their own brand of mistakes. A place where we love each other enough to tell each other the truth, and in community sometimes that truth is a moving target. Sometimes we I tell the truth with too many words, or too loudly, or without the grace we all have in abundance from God. 

What I mean is this: I am screwed up and so are all of my friends. We are shipwrecks lashed together by the love of God in Christ. 

I am grateful for a place like that. I need a place like that. 

The Scriptures are peppered with commands to confess. This assumes that if you are like me or anyone else on the planet you say and do things that require confession. That if you are in a community of faith that is healthy, a regular part of that life together will involve confession. That when you are in a community with people, trying to hold on to hope and grace, sometimes you will get it wrong.

If you haven't said "I was wrong, I'm sorry, and I love you," I would guess either you aren't close enough to people to let them see your mess, or you have been running from and justifying your mess. Maybe for years. If you haven't been able to say them, you may be missing out on intimacy with the people in your world.

They are scary words. My very DNA seems to vomit at the thought of having to say them, having to admit that I've made a mess that can't be fixed with running or justifying myself. I say them clumsily, if at all. I need to utter them more frequently, because as hard as they are to say, they are healing words.  

One of my many hopes for Hopesprings in Sioux City is that we could follow the example of our sister (mother?) community of faith in Bangor in this: That we will be a place where people are welcome to say... 

I was wrong, 

I'm sorry, 

And I love you.  

Here is a bonus tune for this week...it helped me...

Tunes Tuesday: Miley and The Climb

The VMAs have turned into another example of the church not being the church, of the church using culture to judge culture instead of engage and transform it. I have been horrified by the folks who have vilified a young woman and said all kinds of nasty things about her out of some blustery claim of protecting our girls. The VMAs are a reflection of what exists in pop culture...the show doesn't change anything. If anything will change, it will be our love for people, not our judgment.  

Don't trash Miley...Go love your daughters.  

I want to remind all the haterz that many of them claimed this cheesy, though inspirational, song a few years ago.  

A couple thoughts:

• All of our journeys are an uphill battle.
• "If you want to save your life, you have to lose it..."
• We need help.
• This may be the cheesiest song ever.

This is a Protest Post.

Today a fundamentalist group calling itself "christian" is holding protests in Sioux City. The protesters will be at city hall and East High School. It is hard not to be angry about it, and difficult to even bring it up, as this group deserves no more attention or time than they have already received. Loud things are interesting in a noisy world.  

It has been fascinating to read about and follow the counter-protest(s) happening today as well. It seems the plan is to throw a few parties around the city to drown out the noise and express the love people have for others. One is a picnic for the community in Cook Park.

You can't really speak to something you aren't witness to, so I will not try. 

But I do know that they will know we are disciples of Jesus by our love. Or they will know we are not by our lack of love.

It won't be about how clear we were in our judgment of sin.

It won't be about what we put on signs or yelled at a protest rally.

It won't be by our ability to ignore the noise of hate around us.

It will be by our love: Expressed. Shown. Given.  

I don't know what will happen today, but I am praying for peace, and for the students, faculty and administrators who have to deal with some of the worst expressions of "faith" that exist currently. I am praying for true expressions of faith in Christ to win out, to show by their words and actions what it means to follow Jesus. I am praying for the people involved in the protests, that they might keep their wits about them and that everyone would be safe.  

Oh, and also that justice would roll like a mighty water, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Small prayers for a Monday morning.  

Flare Request Friday: Disarming Busy

We make time for the things that are important to us.

Let me rephrase:  YOU make time for what is important to you.

You can tell yourself you are busy. You can tell yourself there is no time. But you have no more or less time than anyone else today, and you choose how you will spend it.  

This is a hard, heavy, difficult, truth. This is so difficult I would have trouble saying it to your face, so I will just write it on the internets. I am not a huge proponent of certainty in much of anything, but I feel pretty certain about this.  

If you need to...

• Spend more time with God personally
• Spend more time with your family
• Spend more time on your calling
• Exercise
• Eat better by taking a more active role in cooking, shopping, or planning your meals
• Spend more time with friends
• Get to know your neighbors
• Get in touch with your mission

If you need to do any of these things OR ANYTHING ELSE, and you have heard yourself claiming there is no time, you have two options:

1: Forget about ever doing any of these things.

2: MAKE time for them.

Circumstances (or something else) will conspire to keep you from everything you know you should do. There will always be a lot of things keeping you from some of the best things. You will always be busy, until you die or get old enough to spend your days wasting away in regret for the things you never had time for. 

Remember when you WERE IN HIGH SCHOOL AND THOUGHT YOU WERE BUSY?!?!?!?!?! Have you seen the look of rage in parent's eyes when college kids talk about how busy they are? Those nostalgic, condescending feelings are ugly, but the eye-rolls reveal some truth: you will tend to get more busy, rarely less. Busy is like gravity, sucking us all in. Like sand through the hourglass, so are the days of our...WAIT.

Just.

Stop.

What should you do - now? What needs to change right now? What have you been too busy for? Those are the things YOU CANNOT AFFORD TO PUT OFF. The absence of those things in your life is most likely killing you slowly. 

(I preach most passionately sermons that are directed at me.) 

I have been running from rest. I have been running from quiet. I have been playing the busy card with my family and my personal time spent in the silence. I have been utterly addicted to the noise. I have needed time away from the racket.

Will you pray for me?  If you're not too busy... 

Throwback Thursday: The Problem of Sweat

This is a Throwback Post from early July...Enjoy!

Ninety-degree heat will do some pretty wild things.  

It will fry an egg on the hood of your car (maybe...an internet search proved inconclusive...thinking of running a test on my car this week).

It will draw a river of sweat from you, take you back to a middle school locker with the smells it will produce, and put you into extreme dehydration.

It will make you yearn for the barren snowy winter wastelands of the midwest in July.

It may, in-fact, fry your brain.  

One of the other things it should do is ruin a gathering.

Sunday morning, Hopesprings in Bangor gathers at 301 Market St. for a time celebrating who God is and what He is doing in our lives. We get together to get to know each other better, dive into the Scripture together, and invite others into the story that God is telling in and through this community of faith. It is a friendly atmosphere, and has a vibe of belonging and welcome that I have not often experienced. We try to talk about things in a way devoid of churched language, and we have a pretty diverse group of people that get together to take their next step towards God and each other. There are a lot of cool things going on there.  But there is something very uncool going on there right now.  

It is July.

There is no form of air-conditioning except an army of fans deployed throughout the space and whose impact is similar to taking an oscillating fan to the Sahara and expecting a cool breeze.

It was 92 degrees yesterday. Put people in the space and it feels like 120 (hyberbole much?)

The building is basically designed as a furnace and often it will feel hotter inside than outside the building.  

Don't worry, this is not a vent-session. (Sorry...had to do it.) The bottom line is this: we should not be able to have people come and hang out at this building in July.  

But they do.  

They come and keep coming.

They sing and sweat and engage with a message centered on the story of God.

They bring their kids.  They even invite other people to come.  

And they stay after to connect and share their lives with each other.

The building at 301 Market St. was a beautiful gift to Hopesprings. It has come withsome many challenges (little parking...no air conditioning...a space that has aged and has needed updating and repair), but it is a HUGE blessing, and it is right in the middle of the community God has called Hopesprings to minister to in Bangor.  

My heat-addled brain was thinking about something yesterday. We have had so many challenges to the identity, mission and vision of Hopesprings, but all those challenges are nothing compared to God at-work in the lives of people. If you are doing the thing you are meant to do, if you are doing the thing you are called to do,  (in our case) if you are loving and serving people, creating a culture where people can experience the grace of God and find their place in His story, the temperature of the building doesn't ultimately matter.

The mission of God is not about buildings. It cannot be contained by a clever strategy. It will not be derailed by details.

This is not to say the heat didn't affect us: IT DID.  

This is not to say we don't try to address the heat: WE DO.

Yet we stay faithful to our mission to love God and love people no matter how hot it may be in July on a Sunday morning. In the heat, in the struggle, we see they are nothing when God is working in a people.

Siouxland will bring its own host of challenges...and there will be barrier after barrier and challenge after challenge in staying faithful to our mission there to love the city, to serve its people, and to demonstrate the good news of Jesus in our actions and in our words. Yet none of those things can defeat God in search of people, and a community of faith that is on a mission of rescue in a city.   

Planet SUX or BUST!

Have you ever heard the phrase “_________ is its own place”?

Bangor, Pennsylvania is its own place. I have even referred to it as Planet Bangor…that title I have used in jest, in angst, and in love for it. This city has a city feel, yet it only boasts a population of around 6,000 people. It has been described as rural and urban, and neither term is appropriate. It has a vibe, a rhythm, a quirky groove that is all its own.  It has surprised me, frustrated me, and impressed me many times over the last few years. It has become our home, our town, our place. 

That is about to change. 

Every place is its own place, and you can see that as an asset, as something to embrace, or you can use that in derision, keeping your community at a distance as you write it off. I have done both, mostly the latter.  

Places matter to God.  Not just "holy" ones. All places. Even out-of-the-way, middle-of-the-dessert places (See Jacob, Moses, Jesus, et cetera). Places that are too far-gone (See Nineveh). Hole-in-the-wall places (See Bethlehem). Maybe even the place you find yourself in.  

“The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed; ²¹ nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or, ‘There it is!’ For behold, the kingdom of God is in your midst.” _Luke 17.20-21

The kingdom of God is right here, right now. It is wherever people experience the love of God in the life of Jesus. It is poking through, seeping in, breaking out in dark places all over this planet all of the time. I am constantly surprised by the places God shows up in the Scripture, and constantly surprised by His insistence that every place belongs to him.  

Bangor belongs to God.

Siouxland belongs to God.

_________ belongs to God.

I am excited to relearn the quirks, needs, and identity of a new place, and what the good news of the kingdom of God in Siouxland looks like.  

Oh, and if you need any evidence that Sioux City is its own place, look no further (I still have trouble believing this is real...it is very real):

Tunes Tuesday: Midnight City

Welcome to Tunes Tuesday here on the blog.  Tunes Tuesday is a fun day where I post a song that has something to do with us planting Hopesprings in Sioux City.  Might be fun to try to figure out how :).  I am not going to post too much commentary, nor will I vouch for everything in every song.  Sometimes I will elaborate, sometimes I won't.  Enjoy.  

The things that I love about this tune:

1. "The city is my church"
2. Kids moving stuff with their minds in the video.
3. Kids looking to save a city with their super powers.  
4. The dirty saxaphone.  I have loved 80s saxaphone riffs exactly 1 time in my life.  This is it.*
5. Everything else.

*Correction: this is not true at all...I listened to way too much Michael Bolton back in the day. 

Feeling Jumpy

...Sorry for the post delay. (You may get a Bonus Super Fun Post for your patience)... 

I am still unnerved by the trust our son has in me.

I have done a few things to earn that trust. I make him food. I give him baths. We play together.  He knows I love him, and that I want to protect him and make sure he is as safe and as happy as possible. 

But I am not used to the jumps yet. 

Little kids do this (you have probably heard) all. the. time.  They will jump from perfectly safe places, out into the middle of nothing, because they are sure you will catch them.

I don’t know where this belief that he will be caught came from exactly. Chairs, steps, couches, poolsides…he was made to jump.  When he jumps, my guts jump.  He will be on the couch, and something will propel him to leap from it..at me...in the sure belief that bad things won’t happen. 

Sometimes bad things do happen.  We bonk heads.  I may catch him just barely, and awkwardly, collapsing into a heap on the living room floor.  We are no strangers to our fair share of owies. 

But he still jumps.  And I try to catch him.

People talk quite a bit about faith like a child.  It is something Jesus challenges all of his followers to have.  Yet it is a difficult thing to barely understand that faith, let alone have it.  To jump out into the adventures, dreams, and life God has for us is really scary.  Sometimes I can spend years on the couch, contemplating, calculating, working through some leap of faith.  But kids just jump. 

Either they are stupid, or they really trust us.  Kids trust that we will catch them, even awkwardly.  They trust that if they get an owie, or give us one, that everything is going to be ok. 

Or maybe kids think the jump itself is worth whatever comes after. 

Maybe we need some little kids to teach us about faith. 

What do crazy kids jumping off couches teach you about faith?

Flare Request Friday: Scale-Tipping

I want everyone to get what they deserve. Except for me of course.  

My concept of justice by nature is warped and sick. It looks like the bad people being punished, and the ones who have made mistakes to receive retribution. Even vengeance.  I have been known to take in a good revenge movie from time to time. Batman is my favorite superhero, dispensing justice without too much regard for due process.  

Before you are tempted to take that on a grand, societal-level scale, know this: it takes place in the smallest of ways with the smallest injustices. The dumbest example that probably reflects the poorest on me is my driving. You would be amazed at the sheer weight of injustice I have suffered at the hands of other careless, horrible drivers. But not quite as amazed as you would be that in my mind I have never made a mistake or been [unduly] unkind in my life as a driver. The scales of justice in my sad little heart and mind are forever tipped in my favor.  

But then, last night as we are meeting with a couple in Sioux City, dreaming and plotting about what this crazy adventure of a new community of faith will look like, we looked at a passage in the Scripture I will continue to chew on the rest of my days.

He has shown you, O mortal, 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.  

_Micah 6.8

It is a passage I have read (and even sung) for decades, and it still needles me. Many translations read "do justice"...or "do justly".  It means to do right in everything for everyone. I think most often for me it has been reduced to making sure people get what they deserve. That is how I most often process justice, and can even get a little high in dreaming about big scary people getting what's coming to them. As if wrongs are righted with more wrong, more hurt, more physical, emotional, economic, and spiritual violence.  

Yet, as with everything in the Scripture, YOU HAVE TO KEEP READING. Lest our concept of justice be reduced to a perverted vengeance, the very next words are: love mercy. By its very definition, mercy is people NOT getting what they deserve. So how do people do justice without people getting what they deserve? What kind of justice is that?

Apparently there is justice that leads to healing, not punishment. There is a justice that leads to peace, not to further division, wounds, and hatred. There is a justice that loves mercy. The kind of justice that rescues and restores.  

If your justice doesn't love mercy, it's not justice. It's something smaller, weaker, and warped. It may feel good, but it is ugly and dangerous..it is a cancer, a drug. If your justice is about everyone getting what they deserve, your world is small and sad, because no one gets what they deserve.  

We spent some time last night reflecting on a paraphrase of some of Jesus' words, and I was devastated by them:

For I was hungry, while you had all you needed. I was thirsty, but you drank bottled water. I was a stranger, and you wanted me deported. I needed clothes, but you wanted more clothes. I was sick, and you pointed out the behaviors that led to my sickness. I was in prison, and you said I was getting what I deserved. (From the Richard E. Stearns Version of Matthew 25)

God help me. I am guilty. Thank you God for not giving me what I deserve, but mercy and grace in the love of Christ, and an opportunity to see you redefine my self-righteous sense of justice.

Will you pray for me, and for the communities of faith in Bangor and Sioux City, that our definition of justice would have mercy at the center, and that justice would flow in our communities?    

Throwback Thursday: Deep End

"Deep calls to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls;"

We are in the deep end folks. Just a few things going on...
We just had a baby. That is awesome. And overwhelming. And awesome. Repeat.
We are moving across the country to plant a church in roughly six weeks.
There are at least 100,000 people in Siouxland unconnected with a community of faith. (by our estimates) There is a city desperate for hope and good news of a God in love and in search of people.
We will need to love and serve the people of Sioux City in meaningful, tangible ways. This will take creativity, wisdom, passion, and vision.
It will take leaders, people, financial resources, and much more to plant in Sioux City.
We are searching for a new Lead Pastor for Hopesprings in Bangor.

We are out of our depth.
This work is beyond us.

Yesterday I was feeling the weight of the need and the scope of the work ahead of us, and it felt deep. Heavy. Much too much for us to handle. And you know what? It IS too much for us to handle.

This is a good thing.

I was reflecting on Psalm 42, where the writer is in the pit; he's been crushed by the weight of life and feeling despair. He is in a horrible place. We are not in a horrible place, but I can relate to being in a deep place...a weighty place. A place where the writer feels overwhelmed. It is there, in that place, where deep calls to deep. Where he experiences love and hope, and the ability to question the weight of life that feels like a brick on his chest.

In the deep places when we are overwhelmed, when we don't have it together, when we are lost, broken, disheveled...these are the places where we meet God. In our need and desperation. There is good news for folks who find themselves in the deep end...

Jesus comes for the lost.
Jesus comes for the sick.
Jesus comes for the enslaved.
Jesus comes for the brokenhearted.
Jesus comes for the overwhelmed.

The realization that we don't have everything together creates space in our lives for God to work and for us to find resurrection in Jesus. The realization that the work is God's, that this is His Kingdom, that He is the one who will bring the resources and people to build His church, frees us up to focus instead of freak out.

Giving up Good For the Great Unknown

This weekend was pretty surreal.

Hopesprings hosted a brother from an alternative mother who is considering becoming the new lead pastor at Hopesprings here in Bangor. That is wild...it is pretty rare for a pastor to be involved in the search for his replacement, and, in most other situations, it would seem unhealthy, with egos wounded and ownership threatened. It could be a mess, but we all trust that it is God authoring our story.

We have all been incredibly challenged by the steps of faith ahead of us as a leadership team and as a church. We have wondered about the timing. We have wondered how our family in Bangor would react to the news of us taking this adventure, and whether we were ready for something so crazy as an organization. 

But seeing our people surround this weekend with support and time and energy got me really excited about the Bangor-end of this adventure. We had more folks hang out in the gathering than ever on a Sunday in August, and the vibe as we celebrated what God was doing among us was palpable and exciting.  Our people are ready, and they are willing to jump in and embrace change. They are also incredibly sad to let us take Hopesprings with us into a new place...sad to say goodbye to our family, yet they get the big picture of our larger mission and vision as a community of faith.  

The people of Bangor are willing to GIVE UP THEIR PASTOR to see the kingdom of God advance in a place they assume is just corn and cows. And they love me. They support me. And they have been listening to message after message preparing them for the journey ahead, and are willing to embrace the unknown because they trust God knows. That He is up to something. That what lies ahead of us is more important than clinging to the awesome that lies behind.  

My love for them has grown because I can see how hard this is, and how much God has worked in this group of people to get that we have to give ourselves away to experience the life of Christ, to see people and cities resurrected with good news.  

What good thing has God asked you to let go for the unknown?

Pit Boss Reflections

Have you ever considered the first time someone bit into a peach?

Think about it.  
This is a fruit that looks delicious, but harbors a dark secret.  It is a truly odd sight.  Something totally and completely unexpected.  It looks alien, like something from another world.

The peach pit.

Do you realize how gnarly a peach pit is? It looks like an alien landscape crossed with an internal organ. Can you picture biting into a peach without knowing what was inside, and the moment you reached the center? (The HORROR!) It is entirely possible the person just totally destroyed their tooth...maybe even broke several.  

Exhibit A: The Peach Pit

Was it worth it? 

Was he referred to as the Pit Boss after that?  

These are important questions.   

They get at the sense of the unknown, and the sense of adventure that is seemingly innate in us as people. My fore-fathers and mothers sailed across an ocean to plant churches and communities. My grandparents moved to New Guinea in a quest to build God's kingdom in one of the more remote places on the planet. We dream of Siouxland. (Exotic destinations are in my blood)

Whether it is biting into a peach or embarking across oceans, we are creatures of vision.  Of mission. Of wild dreams of new things.

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him...

Something in that image is adventurous. Is risky. God knows everything and is all powerful, but we still question both in light of the risks he has taken in creating and loving this world. Love is a great risk.  

Like discovering peach pits. (Love rates a bit higher on the risk scale)

We are driven into the unknown by The Barely Known. By the One who compels people into the wilderness and into strange journeys of compassion and grace. The One who uses donkeys, fish, and giants to help show people the way. We are driven by the One who risked everything, His Best Thing, that we could be loved, and known, and that the fractured image of Him in us could be restored.  

Our faith is not that we would be untouched by the danger, or come through unscathed. Jesus was quite...well, scathed...and had the scars to prove it. Our faith is a faith to go with Him. Or that He goes with us.  (Answer: hopefully both at the same time) And He is the one who is more dangerous than the danger, who overshadows it, who engulfs and transforms it with a severe mercy I am barely capable of remotely grasping.  

Yet we continue to grasp. To wrestle. To clutch onto our life in Christ and never let go of Him, or of the mission He gives us to show and tell the good news. And I am finding that willingness takes you to some pretty wild places. Like Bangor, Pennsylvania. Or Sioux City, Iowa. Or whatever place you find yourself in...

Have you ever considered some of humanity's firsts? How are you inspired to take your next step?

Flare Request Friday: Welcome to the Jungle

That first drive from Newark Liberty International airport, through the jungles of northeastern Pennsylvania, and finally into downtown Bangor is one I will never, ever, forget. I was a little nauseous...partly from the excitement but mostly from the refusal of anyone who designed a road in Pennsylvania to engineer a straight line.  

I remember South Main Street.

I remember the heat.

I remember arriving at 9 North Main St., walking up two flights of stairs (a trek I would make countless times in the next few years), sitting on the couch, saying goodbye to our tour guide...

...and laughing.

Laughing because in the hour-long drive, I fully expected to look at Summer and hear she was ready to take the drive back. That she had seen enough. There was something about the feel, something about Bangor, something about the place we would call home...I could feel something of the weight of what we were entering into, and I couldn't picture her being up for such a journey, such a challenge. And we had just gotten there.

How often have I underestimated this woman? Too often.

She wondered why I was laughing, I told her, and she proceeded to tell me she hadn't given up already, and she could see herself here. Her faith, her confidence...these would end up some of the single clearest indicators to me that Hopesprings in Bangor was our next step together. As He has so often, God revealed a great deal about where we should be through her.

It is one of the best decisions we have ever made together.

This weekend Hopesprings in Bangor is hosting a couple who is considering moving across the country to be a part of Hopesprings, and for the husband to become the new Lead Pastor in Bangor. They are a great couple with a great passion for serving where God wants them to be. We are considering them as a potential fit for us, and they will be meeting with leaders and people in a few different settings over the next couple days. Everyone is really excited about the possibilities.  

As passionate as we are to be moving, and to see Hopesprings take its next step in Sioux City, we are also hungry for a great fit, for the health and future of Hopesprings in Bangor.  

So, this flare (prayer) request is for...

1. Josh and Jen as they consider Bangor, Hopesprings, and being a part of this crazy adventure.
2. The people of Hopesprings in Bangor, and for their connection with Josh and Jen.
3. The future of Hopesprings as we seek to love God and people. This is a time that is challenging and stretching our faith in great ways.  

Also maybe pray to that I don't suddenly burst into tears like a seven-year-old girl thinking about leaving here...truly grateful for the impact of these last 6 years in our lives, and for all of the relationships we have here.

Bigger than Blown-Out Pants

Last weekend we went with another family to this odd, wonderful, dangerous place called Bounce U. It is where kids get a degree in bouncing with a minor in breaking bones. (Just kidding...we were all safe and had a great time.)

Our son Asher is a pro. He is three and loves somersaults, jumping, and anything that involves general mayhem. He also wants you to be involved. ("Will you play with me?" is his favorite question). So my Friday night consisted of bouncing, climbing, sliding, and generally making sure our mayhem didn't send other kids to the hospital.  

I had fun. Lots of fun. I literally blew my pants out.  

Wait, let me explain. We were getting ready to go, having closed the place down, and Asher and I were getting out of some bouncy monstrosity when it happened. I was crawling off the bouncy-thingy, one foot went one way, the other went an alternative direction, and this was the result:

The sound of those shorts rending asunder was the stuff of middle school nightmares. Those shorts are unsalvageable. They look like I either survived a shipwreck or a dog attack...or both at the same time. We all had a good laugh and the walk to the car was uncomfortably breezy.  

I will probably remember those shorts for a long time.

Which is a shame.

Because that isn't the real story about that night.  

I should remember a few things about that night, none of which have much to do with a pair of blown-out shorts. I need to remember the wonderful time we had with friends. I need to remember the pure joy, the almost-constant smile of Asher enjoying moving and playing and being 3.  

I also need to remember the boy. Not ours, another boy who was there working on his bounce degree. He was there with who I assume was his mom, and he was having a great time, but didn't have a dad there to enjoy it with him. He was alone in the bouncy-house, which is not ok...these things were meant to be shared. I don't know his story, (maybe he has a great dad who couldn't make it) and don't even know his name, but I do know he was desperate to get his bounce on with me and Asher.  For a few minutes he was a part of our family time. I know he was hungry to share the unfiltered joy with someone.

We humans are great at remembering the wrong things, or with a wrong perspective (see the history of the family of God throughout the Old Testament). Our hearts can warp, twist, and manipulate history, making it something it isn't. It can get so bad we can even look back with nostalgia on slavery and yearn to go back to our proverbial Egypts. Or we can just forget.

I don't want to forget. I want to remember. To celebrate the things God has saved me from, and the life He has saved me for. I want to remember Jesus, to remember his life, death, and resurrection in everything, to remember the ways He loved and served people, and to do the same. To follow Jesus is to remember his care for the hurting, the sick, the desperate, the starved for love and attention and food and grace.

I want to remember Asher and The Boy Who Bounced With Us. I want to remember how God gave us the opportunity to include a boy without his dad in our fun. I want to be spurred on towards seeing those around us who are desperate for family and encouragement and connection with God and people. 

May I remember those things as much as any blown-out shorts.

View From the Pool

My "job" is roughly the best one on planet earth.  One of the things I get to do is baptize people. Yesterday I got to hang out in a pool, work on my farmer's tan, and dunk people under the water. And this is called "ministry".

It is a good gig. 

As I was in the pool yesterday, under the best-blue sky and partial cloud-cover that makes me sure as anything that there is a heaven and that it pierces through into this place, I was listening to adventures in missing the point. Tales of desperation. People who were burnt-out, burnt-down, and living in various circles of hell before awakening to life and hope and peace in Jesus. And a cloud passed over me.  

I have to say goodbye to this motley crew of renegades in less than two months. I have to say see-you-soon to people I have prayed with, shed tears over, wrestled with, and dunked in the water. That cold, clear, water.

I remember each baptism with striking clarity, and every body of water. Pools, warm and cold...mountain streams, cold enough to numb extremities and take your breath away...even a burlap-decorated kiddy pool.  

Every time they come up sputtering, every time they come up alive.  

We tell people that baptism symbolizes death, and I like to remind people that if I didn't bring them up out of the water, they would die. We see in baptism the death and resurrection of Jesus. We hope people feel the weight of this imagery as they follow Christ in baptism, that the joy could be all the heavier.

That journey of death and resurrection with Jesus is one that upends us regularly (even daily if we allow). It provokes us as we pick up our respective crosses and follow Him on the journey of love and sacrifice that He walked before us. The water doesn't wash away the struggle; it is not magic...there is a real road ahead of us when we come up sputtering. I know this because I have lived this, and I know the stories of those I plunge into the water.  

I remembered my own baptism as I stood shivering in the pool and the journey of the last couple decades, that journey that is now taking me back to the place I was born, on an adventure in building God's kingdom as we love God and people in Sioux City.     

I see God building a family across state, national, racial, and economic lines.  

The view from the pool is scary.  

The view from the pool is exciting. 

I get to see the love and mercy of God grow in people, and I can't wait to see it grow in Siouxland.  

I love dunking people.