Radical Hospitality

Two weeks ago, my family and I went to Washington DC to celebrate my grandmother’s 90th birthday party. My grandmother is an amazing woman. She lives alone, drives, has no physical problems, and doesn’t take one prescription pill! (I hope I have her genes). Since this was a big occasion in her life, we decided to kill the fattened calf if you will.

Those of our family who were out of town booked a hotel downtown, and it was really quite amazing…once we got there that is. We rolled into town on a Thursday afternoon around 6:00 pm, and as it turns out, you can’t make a left turn until 7 pm! Mapquest was useless, so I turned to Samquest. My wife, who lived in DC for a short period of time, managed to get us to the hotel by only taking right turns through a maze of one-way streets and 5 street intersections. Needless to say, I was a little frazzled after 30 minutes of driving around the hotel, but unable to get to the front door!

Once we pulled in front of the hotel, we were greeted by two men who gave us non-stop service. One man rolled a cart out of the door and began unpacking our luggage from our car, and the other took my keys and parked our car in their underground garage. Now, I was really uptight. They didn’t jump to our service out of good will. They were expecting a little financial remuneration in return for their service. Now their service was exceptional, still all weekend it cost me to enter the hotel and leave the hotel. I felt like just handing them my wallet, and saying, “Just give it back to me when I leave on Sunday.”

Yet as I left to travel back home, I began to think about their service as a parable for our call to offer radical hospitality to our world. As we read in Gen. 12 in last Sunday’s class, Abraham’s call was not only to be blessed, but to be a blessing to others…the whole world even! So when we read in Gen. 24 of Rebekah’s extreme hospitality, I catch a glimpse of how we can bless the world.

Abraham’s servant goes to his brother’s house to secure a wife for his son Isaac (I know, but it was ok back then). There at a well in Abraham’s brother’s land, the servant prays for a woman who will show hospitality to him. Next thing we read is that Rebekah shows up and is fully prepared to not only give Abraham’s servant a drink, but also give a drink to his camels! Now for those of you counting at home, the servant brought 10 camels with him. Each camel could drink more than 25 gallons of water. Rebekah lugged 250 gallons of water out of the well to water the servant’s camels – and this with no prospect of anything in return!!!

What is more, the author tells us that she did this “quickly” and she “ran back to the well to draw more water” for the camels “until they [had] finished drinking” (Gen. 24:19-20). This is extreme hospitality, and it demonstrates the character of the future matriarch who is more than capable to carry on the mission with Isaac to be a blessing to the nations.

Pray with me that we would be a community who takes hospitality seriously as an act of blessing the nations. In a season where many new people will be looking for a church home this fall, may we take on the character of Rebekah, and radically serve those who come into our life no matter how inconvenient it may be for us.

You Got What It Takes!

My wife and I were doing routine errands in Target, when my oldest daughter spied the action figures of the Jungle Book on the bottom shelf of the toy section. To be honest, I have not bought many toys for my kids. Most of the toys that they have are gifts from grandparents. Yet, this day was different.

The Jungle Book was the first full length feature film that they had seen, and we just let them watch it two weeks earlier on our vacation. As a result of that movie, my kids have been pretending to be the various characters in the Jungle Book. They sing the “Bare Necessities” constantly, and they pretend to be part of Colonel Hatti’s elephant brigade as they march around on all fours through the house saying, “1, 2, 3, 4, keep it up, 2, 3, 4…” Their love for the Jungle Book has even gone so far as Lydia, my 3 and ½ year old, asking to me to introduce her as “Baloo” when young adults or college students come over! They are really into this movie. With this history, let’s go back to Target.

I bought the action figures thinking that I was being the good father. It was an instant hit with the kids…and an instant headache for the parents!

There are 7 characters included, Bigera (panther), Kha (snake), Mogli (man-cub),), Shir Khan (the dreaded tiger), King Louie (the orangutan), the wolf dad (the surrogate father whom I am blanking on his name), and finally Baloo (the bear). Needless to say, Baloo is the overwhelming favorite, and they instantly burst into tears if they can’t play with Baloo. After 3 days of constant fighting (and crying) over who gets to play with Baloo, my wife decided that Claire gets to play with Baloo in the morning till lunch, and Lydia gets to play with Baloo after lunch till dinner. Yet, this still didn’t solve the issue. Each morning for the past week, we start with our kids in tears over who gets to play with Baloo. Instead of blessing, these characters have brought nothing but chaos to my life. Last Saturday, was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back for me.

My wife and I took the kids to go see David Wilcox at the American Tobacco amphitheater in Durham, and my kids took some of their prized possessions (Baloo, Bigera, Kha, & Shir Kahn). It was hot, crowded, but filled with many familiar faces. We thought we would be able to sit on the lawn, listen to some good music, and relax with friends and family. Instead, we felt both like McDonald cheeseburgers under the heat lamp of the sun, and sardines in a can pressed up against everyone on the lawn. Needless to say it wasn’t relaxing. Since the kids were not able to sit still in such confined quarters, I took them for a walk around the lawn of the American Tobacco amphitheater.

They loved the running water that flows through the park. I let them bend down to see the water, but safely enough not to fall in. Not so, thought a police officer that publicly reprimanded me and asked me not to let my kids near the running water. (Easy for him to say, as the water had no fence or barrier around it.) So we walked a bit, but their interest returned to the water. As I leaned over to scoop them up from the waters’ edge, Lydia screams at the top of her lungs as if she had just been pierced in the heart by a rusty dagger. I asked her what happened, but she couldn’t conjure up any intelligible words. She just screamed…and screamed…and screamed some more. It was then that I looked into her hand. She held only Bigera…Baloo was gone! She dropped him in the drink.

There was no consoling Lydia, so I hunted down Samantha in the crowd holding both daughters in my arms trying not to make a scene; however, both girls were now crying now at the top of their lungs, so my efforts were failed. I gave Samantha one look (the look that has nothing but longing affection and endearment attached to it for the joy of creating two precious children together;-), and we were outta there after the 4th song that just happened to be entitled, “The Eye of the Hurricane.”

As I stood there with my daughters in my arms trying to explain what happened (Samantha thought Lydia was A) tortured, B) had an emergency appendectomy without pain killers, or C) got her foot caught in a bear trap), the thought occurred to me to curse The Jungle Book and all its characters and creators. To be honest, everything in my being wanted to get out of there as fast as I possible. Then, after I explaining the episode to Samantha, Lydia was in no better shape. She refused to be comforted. At that moment, I realized I couldn’t leave without Baloo. “But how was that going to happen?” I thought. “The waters flow continually into waterfalls over 100 yards, under the concrete walkway and down 40 feet into the large collection pool. Where could he be in this maze of churning water?”

My only hope was that he didn’t go over the first waterfall. At the place where Lydia dropped Baloo there was a 1 ft. lip that created the first waterfall. If Baloo went over, then he was a goner for sure, but if he got stuck on the lip then there was a chance I could search for him and find him. As I plunged my arm into the murky waters to search for Baloo, I canvassed about 10 feet without any sign of him. Then, when I reached the 1 ft. wall, my hand brushed over something. I scooped it up, and sure enough there was Baloo! I raised my arm so Lydia could see that Baloo had been rescued from the deep. Her face, still red and swollen from grief, now displayed a smile from ear to ear…and there was relief written all over my face as I returned Baloo to her safekeeping.

This week in Sunday class, I shared with you in Genesis, that the Spirit hovered over the chaos
of the waters of the earth. All this, chaos (tohu wbohu) was hostile to life. Yet, the Spirit was hovering over it, anticipating God’s command to order it and bring life from it. On the last day of God’s creating life out of the chaos, he makes humanity – male and female – and he puts his image in them. The implication of our bearing God’s image is that I am also able to create life out of the chaos. As the Spirit leads me into the chaos of my life (in this case, all things Jungle Book), I have a choice to enter the chaos or run from it. Remembering that I have the image of God in me, gives me courage that I have what it takes to create life where hostility and despair currently operate. So every time I face chaos in my life, it is a decision to either to take up my created image to bring forth life, or run from it and let chaos rule.

Pray with me that we would be a community that fosters the image of God in each of us, so that we can remember that God gave us what it takes to enter the chaos of our lives (the tohu wbohu) in order to bring about life. This week, may we not shrink back from the chaos we face, but plunge ourselves into it knowing that God will use us to bring forth life.

A Sweet Aroma

ENCOURAGEMENT: A Sweet Aroma
My wife says that I have super sensitive olfactory system. Basically, she tells me that I smell. Not smell badly; rather, I have a nose for picking up smells. I am beginning to agree with her. If I were a super hero, my ability would be to smell things from great distances. I guess that makes diaper changing my kryptonite…not that I am protected from that duty which makes me less than a mere mortal.

This week I have been enlivened by the smell of honeysuckle as I drive my motorcycle through Durham and Chapel Hill. It is a sweet aroma that fills my helmet, and tickles my nostril hairs with good feelings all around. As I ride, I have noticed a childlike smile occurs from beneath my helmet. The honeysuckle is simply the perfect aroma…sweet, but not overbearing enough to set off my allergic reaction to the nectar of the follower. My olfactory system judges the plant’s flowering aroma to be a perfect 10 out of 10 on the positive smell-o-meter. After using my super powers of smell to judge this flower to be the best smelling flower in our world, I began to wonder if there was some nemesis, yet un-named, out there who couldn’t stand the smell of honeysuckle. The mere casual jaunt outside to retrieve the mail would send his/her nostril hairs aflame with indignation over the positively sweet aroma that encompassed him/her. It is hard for me to imagine that person, but what if there was an opposite me out there. What if there was someone living in some altered universe sensed the same smells but opposite of how I perceived them?

This week in Sunday class, I shared about St. Francis of Assisi. He was a person of wealth who gave up all that he had (even the clothes on his back), in order to live a life of poverty with the poor. He was compelled to preach the good news to the poor, the sick, and the outcast and to serve them as he begged alongside them. As a result of his compassionate life, a movement started in the 12th and 13th centuries that awoke the social consciousness of those living in his time and it eventually swept across western Europe as well as into the colonies of the new world. Yet, not all who saw his compassion on the “least of these” interpreted his ministry as something good. Typically, it was the wealthy and highly educated within the church that perceived his ministry as an eyesore and a nuisance. The Franciscan friars were not always well received wherever they went, but their ministry among the commoners was a fragrant aroma to God

Paul wrote about this strange phenomenon of perception about his own ministry in his 2nd letter to the Corinthian church:

In the Messiah, in Christ, God leads us from place to place in one perpetual victory parade. Through us, he brings knowledge of Christ. Everywhere we go, people breathe in the exquisite fragrance. 15 Because of Christ, we give off a sweet scent rising to God, which is recognized by those on the way of salvation—an aroma redolent with life. 16 But those on the way to destruction treat us more like the stench from a rotting corpse.
Message, 2Cor. 2:14-16

Pray with me that we would become a community that no matter how we are perceived by those around us, their perception would not stop us from living lives of compassion toward others. May our lives lived compassionately toward those in need would together give off the sweet, perfect fragrance of honeysuckle to God’s nostrils.

Virtue: Learning to tell the truth

This morning, I attended the National Day of Prayer in Durham at the Durham Convention Center. I can’t say that I am a regular at these types of meetings, so I didn’t know what to expect. We had a great breakfast, and it was good to meet some people in our community. Even though it was early, I was pleased to see about 500 people come out to spend the morning praying for our city, our families, our government, our churches, and our troops together. Our friend, Michael Page, led the prayer for our churches, and our own Ian Howes, elder at CHBC, concluded our time in prayer. After being led in prayer, Bobby Jones spoke to us about his journey as a follower of Christ.

Bobby Jones was a UNC basketball star and played 12 years in the NBA. He now works for a Christian School in Charlotte as the basketball coach and athletic director. Bobby is a humble man who shared with us his journey of becoming a follower of Christ. After telling the obligatory stories about coach Dean Smith and about life in the NBA, he shared with us a story that has stuck with me today.

As a player in the NBA, he made it his mission to live as a witness to his teammates, coaches, and fans. After his conversion, Bobby described his desire to live a life worthy of the gospel. He shared with us about being an intense competitor, and his battles over being a witness on the court. Over time, the referees came to respect Bobby and sometimes relied on him to help them make a call on the court because of his integrity.

One game, he was lunging for a ball headed out of bounds in front of his team’s bench, but was unable to recover it. Because the referee was standing behind Bobby, he did not have the right angle to see if Bobby did or did not touch it. As the referee came to the sideline to retrieve the ball, the ref asked Bobby, “Did you touch it?” At that point, Bobby had a decision to make. Was his integrity worth a possession in a basketball game? Bobby came clean and told the ref, “Yeah, I touched it.” His coach heard the conversation and was furious with Bobby.

This little story about telling the truth in a basketball game is a small example of what it means to live a virtuous life. As a result of Bobby’s truth telling, he received an earful from the sidelines. His coach told Bobby, “That’s the ref’s job! Let him call the game!” That’s when it struck me that my desire to live a virtuous life shouldn’t be because there is someone out there watching me who can penalize me and my team if I do something wrong. I need to live in vigilance for my own actions, words and thoughts. I am not virtuous just because I didn’t get caught. I should live a life of virtue because I am convinced that living by virtue is the only way to truly live. Bobby’s testimony of telling the truth in the heat of competition encouraged me to live a life worthy of the gospel…especially in the small ways.

Pray with me that we will be a community of virtue that doesn’t sell out our integrity for a seeming advantage to get ahead in life.

Space

This past week in Sunday class, we talked about the birth of the contemplative movement by monks who left the hubbub of the city life in order to find a place to pray and meditate on God. Since studying for last week’s class, I haven’t been able to shake the stories of these monks who left the comfort of the world to seek God in the desert.

For much of my life, prayer always seemed like the last thing I did. It was like seeking a divine “cherry on top” to all of my plans for success. Yet, these monks have challenged me to think otherwise about prayer. I have been challenged by the contemplatives to see our lives as first lived through prayer. However, I often get this backwards.

For far too many of my days I have been in such a rush to start living, that upon waking up from my slumber I immediately look for something to do…take a shower, eat breakfast, go to work, check email, invest in people, etc. I am full of activity the rest of the day right up to the time of going to sleep, and then I repeat. After reading about the wisdom of the contemplatives, I am beginning to see that maybe I am in too much of a rush. Maybe there is something to solitude, silence and reflection that I have not valued.

Recently, I led a three day sabbatical for students at Carolina and one for students at Duke as well. They still went to class and did their homework. The focus wasn’t on stopping our work entirely, it was on placing our focus on God’s work both in our lives and in the lives of those who are not yet followers of Christ. We met together for prayer in the morning before class and for dinner at the end of the day. What many of us discovered was a new way of living. Living a prayer-filled life actually is the only way to live.

As we spent our time praying about God’s agenda (and placing our agendas on the back burner), many of the students found themselves engaging in conversations about God with friends who don’t follow Jesus. One gal had a friend, who was going through some hard times, ask her to go to Duke Chapel with her after class, and pray for her. Her friend was not a Christian, but God used the moment to encourage someone who was struggling with life.

In carving out the space to live a prayer-filled life, I find myself thinking differently, seeing differently, and acting differently. In essence, I am beginning to really live as a result of submitting myself to God through prayer.

Pray with me that we would be a community that doesn’t get ahead of ourselves by rushing out too quickly to start living. Pray that we would be a community that would live our lives through prayer.

Good Friday

I don’t know if you are like me, but I like gifts…I just don’t like receiving them. I know that probably doesn’t make a lot of sense, but let me explain.

Growing up, my parents loved to take us out to eat. They still do. They were, and continue to be, very generous to us in this way. However, there was always an unspoken rule. Never order dessert. I confess that I don’t know how I understood this rule, because my parents never made a big deal of it. They never sat us down and instructed us that this was the rule; it just somehow was the rule for me growing up. I think it is because a meal is something that I am supposed to have for my nourishment. A dessert is just entertainment for the taste buds. I just couldn’t ask my Dad to pay for that.

By extension of the dessert principle, I have learned, wrongly I might add, that receiving gifts of any kind from others is undesirable. Gifts are additive; they are unnecessary. Life goes on without them. Gifts are little pleasures given to me that should have the effect of softening my heart and connect me to the giver who cares about me, but it is never a first response. However, a soft heart and a connection to the giver don’t come easy for me. I always have to work toward these responses.

To me, receiving a gift is an act of submission. Receiving a gift from someone is tantamount to acknowledging I don’t deserve the gift. Someone sacrificed his/her time, talent and/or money to give the gift to me. Gift receiving heightens my awareness to my shortcomings and inabilities. I know that’s messed up. I should rejoice in the giver and the gift, but that is a learned process for me not a natural response.

And for this reason, Good Friday is always a difficult day for me. I look for ways to make it a normal day, but it never winds up that way. Every year it is difficult for me to receive the gift of sacrifice that comes from Jesus’ obedience to death on the cross. It is an act of submission for me. If I yield to it, Good Friday trains my heart to become soft again. Engaging the story of the crucifixion connects me again to the ultimate gift of Jesus sacrificing his life for mine. And by doing so, Jesus truly gives me something that I don’t deserve. As a result of this sacrificial gift, I am connected to Jesus in new ways as I understand his care for me.

Today, I pray that you would join me in submitting to the gift of Good Friday. Pray with me that our hearts would be softened and that our connection to Jesus would grow as we learn again about his deep care for us. So today my prayer is simply, “Into your hands, I commit my spirit.”

Vigilance

Growing up, I gravitated toward danger. I don’t know if this is a boy thing or just a human thing, but nonetheless, it was one of the things that attracted my attention. I played sports in which inflicting violence on others was part of the game. Football isn’t football without punishing hits. Baseball isn’t necessarily violent, but I played catcher. I loved plays at the plate that involved a crash in order to protect home base. However, wrestling was the most violent sport I played, and it demanded everything from me.

My first sport was wrestling. This was not the type of wrestling you see on WWF. This was freestyle wrestling. The goal of wrestling is to pin the shoulders of your opponent to the mat for at least 3 seconds. My Dad, who was a state champion wrestler, taught me the moves that could punish me or help me win the match depending on who was using them…me or my opponent. Moves like, “The Arm Bar”, “The Cross Face,” “The Double Grapevine,” and “The Banana Split” communicate pain even if you don’t know what these moves are (trust me, you don’t want to be on the receiving end of these). All of these moves were created to make your opponents submit to you (or you to him).

Wrestling is a fully engaged sport. When facing an opponent you are pulled into a battle mentally, physically, and emotionally. At the weigh in, you stand next to your opponent, and you get the chance to size each other up. This pre-game weigh in was a complete mind game. There were many opponents I faced who came to the weigh in with their sweatshirt sleeves lined with safety pins from their shoulder to their wrist designating how many matches they had won by a pin. Then there was the match itself. Wrestling another man was one of the greatest physical tests I have ever faced. There was not a match in which I competed where I wasn’t completely exhausted at the finish. Every muscle in my body was used to exert my will on my opponent or counter my opponents will. Then after the match, I was either the victor or the loser, and I had to face the crowd to await the verdict by the referee (even if the verdict was clear). Wrestling had the power to either give me an inflated sense of self worth or strip every once of it I had.

Ultimately, wrestling taught me that I could not let my guard down…ever. The moment I let my guard down mentally, physically or emotionally, I was going to lose.

To be clear, it wasn’t the violence that attracted me to wrestling (or the other sports I played), it was the byproduct of facing that sport’s particular danger that really attracted me. The byproduct of the danger was the singular vision of vigilance mentally, physically, and emotionally that was drawn out in me as I faced the sport’s inherent danger.

As I have been reading through 2 Timothy with you, I have been reminded of the danger of following Christ. Mentally, physically, and emotionally we face danger all day long. Our Opponent is constantly using moves on us to submit us to his will. He seeks to weaken our vigilance to keep the sound teaching of the gospel, and to guard the good deposit that is in us. In reality, it doesn’t necessarily feel like I am in a battle. Right now, I am sitting in Panera having a cup of coffee writing this letter to you. I don’t feel particularly threatened. As a result, it is all too easy to let life happen to me, rather than to do the work of keeping and guarding in my faith. I basically let my Enemy work his moves on me all day long without countering them.

Last week, Paul’s words reminded me again to stay vigilant to living life that keeps the sound teaching that leads me to faith and love in Jesus. I was also reminded to be vigilant in guarding the good deposit of the gospel knowing that it is all to easy to live a life without grace at the center of it. When I let my guard down, the Enemy punishes me. His moves submit my thoughts, my actions, and my spirit to his will instead of the Lord’s will.

Pray with me that we would become aware of the moves that the Enemy seeks to put on us to submit us to his will. As a result, let us become vigilant to keep to the sound teaching that leads us to faith and love in Jesus, and to guard the good deposit so that our lives our lived with grace at the center of it.

Marching to a Different Beat

Have you ever had one of those weeks where you just couldn’t catch up? (grad students are never caught up, so at least you feel me). This week, I have especially felt the pressure of time slipping by too quickly. No matter how hard I have worked, the “to-do” piles don’t seem to decrease. For some reason I have been bothered by not being able to accomplish all that I hope to accomplish. I have felt…well, grumpy about the whole matter. As a result, I have had a hard time sleeping, I have not felt like playing with the kids, and the time I have spent with others has felt rushed all because there are more important things to do that occupy my brain activity

This past weekend, I led the Turbo Group Training for those that will be serving as mentors for those in the Turbo Groups. It was another thing added to my already packed schedule, but helping people mentor others well is something that I am passionate about. So, I agreed to serve. During the course of the training we were looking at Gen. 1, and someone made the comment that God didn’t create the world in one day. He took six days, and then rested on the seventh before doing anything more. At the time, I thought it was one of the more obvious observations of the chapter and didn’t think much of it. However, as my week has progressed, that comment has begun to take root in my life.

Knowing God could have created everything in an instant, but didn’t, reflects something about God. He somehow was not concerned with the rate at which things got done. There is an honor in his work that recognizes when enough is enough. I then remembered that at the end of each day, God proclaimed, “It was good.” This simple act of creating, stopping, and deeming it good has been instructive to me…because it is not how I live.

The simple comment that God didn’t create the world in one day has walked with me this week. As a result, I am trying to learn how to do my work of creating in time, not outside of it. When the day is done, I am learning to stop and call the day good. This rhythm is shaping my life, albeit slowly, as I focus less on what I have accomplished, and more on the gift of being able to join God’s work of creating…in time.

Getting out of sync with God’s rhythm in my life has proven to dishonor my work and the people in my life. Pray with me that we would be a community that learns to follow God’s lead as we think about our work and relationships. May we learn not to rush God’s work in our own lives, expecting him to work in our time frame. May we learn to release our expectations of others that serve to dishonor our friends and family. Instead, pray with me that we would learn to create, stop, and bless in the rhythm God has invited us into.

Today, I Saw Jesus

After finishing lunch at Bear Rock at University Mall, and I had some time to kill before my next meeting. There was a cozy spot open in front of their faux fireplace, so I thought I would save some fossil fuel by staying put. I whipped out my laptop to catch up on my online communication. Thirty minutes later, I looked up from my screen to give my eyes a break from looking at my screen, and the next thing my eyes saw was Jesus.

There he was, or I should say there she was, leading a group of people into Bear Rock for a lunch on the other side of the cozy faux fireplace (it is of the see through variety). This young woman was leading a group of mentally challenged men and women to have lunch with her. They walked rather slowly, but their eyes were fixed on her. The woman who was right behind…Jesus…was holding tightly to her arm. There was no way she was letting go. Then, this woman, who just had to be Jesus, patiently held the door for the rest of her friends to walk through and helped them to their place in front of the fireplace.

After this, she reached into her bag and pulled out some $20’s, and handed one to each person in her party. They then got menus to select their meal, and proceeded to the cashier to order and pay for their meals. After that, they made their way back to their seats in front of the fireplace. Quietly, without much fanfare, they ate together with…with Jesus.

Ok, maybe this woman wasn’t Jesus, but when I saw this gentle crowd come in led by this woman, that’s all I could think of. I was struck with the picture that was being played out in front of me. I thought, “This is the picture of Jesus leading the body of Christ.” Here he was leading a band of broken people together to share a fellowship meal with him. He accepts our company (no matter what our challenges). He leads us to quiet waters (or warm fireplaces). He gives us provision ($20 bucks for lunch). He restores our souls (transforming who we are by his presence with us).

As I think about our community, pray with me that we would hold on to Jesus like that woman at the front of the line...not worried or anxious about our liabilities, but joyful because of God’s presence with us.