A Tribute to My Brother

My brother is truly one of the most amazing people that I know. He's the type of guy that never ceases to amaze. He's been my best friend basically since he was born. Our family moved around a lot when we were little so Zach and I always did pretty much everything together. We were seriously inseperable, and usually still are. We had our fights like any siblings, but usually it was just me being an idiot. I have so many great memories of he and I sitting up late together, eating chips and drinking Dr. Pepper, watching a funny movie or playing NBA street on playstation. When we were kids we had all these projects that we did to make ourselves feel important. One of these projects was nailing 2x4's in random places on the inside of a bunkhouse because we thought that's what construction was. Good times.

Zach is now a United States Marine. He's currently stationed in Iraq and doing well. I get occasional letters and e-mails from him, as well as phone calls in which there's a ten second pause that always makes the conversations interesting. Zach being in the Marine Corps has been tough for me in a lot of ways. When we were little, I was always the big brother who protected him. I remember one time we were on the playground at our school and some kid started calling my brother names. I ran up and punched the kid in the face and told him to leave my brother alone. I was so mad at that kid because my brother didn't do anything to him, and I remember clearly the feeling I had that I needed to protect my brother. I got in pretty big trouble for that, but I never regretted it. That kid should never have picked on Zach.

We're not on the school playground anymore. My brother is not getting called names by bullies, he's getting shot at with real bullets by real people who want to kill him. And I can't protect him. Thinking about it brings back the exact same feelings that I had when that kid was picking on him on the playground, but there's no bully that I can punch in the face. I'm helpless.

Zach being in the Marines has also forced me to think through a lot of issues regarding the war, etc. I've talked with him lots about the politics surrounding the war and what he thinks about it. I think the thing that I appreciate most about my brother is that he doesn't look at things in black and white. He knows that the people he's fighting are human beings with families and a cause that they believe in, and he doesn't feel the need to dehumanize them in order to deal with it. He's told me that if he pays attention to politics, he'll just get frustrated. He looks at what he's doing as a job, and his responsibility is to protect his fellow Marines who are in harm's way. I think it's less about fighting for a specific cause and more about looking out for his buddies beside him. He also said that he gets motivated by the kids. He was in Afghanistan for 8 months last year, and he fell in love with the children over there. He told me that he saw what he was doing as creating opportunities for kids that they wouldn't otherwise have. He said they were removing the terrorists who were brainwashing kids from a young age and giving the kids an opportunity to get an education. He said that being able to watch kids learn to read and write was the motivation he needed to get through his 8 months over there. He said that regardless of whether or not the war was a good thing, there were at least some positive consequences. He said that if he allows himself to think about all of the political bullshit within the leadership of the Marine Corps and our country, he just gets frustrated. I certainly have my questions about the war and I wonder what would happen if we spent more money on development and less on war. What I love about my brother is that I can talk about these questions with him openly, and he gives me a different perspective that challenges my assumptions and makes me think. These are not black and white issues. While I would love to just see war disappear, the world is not that simple.

The other thing I love about my brother is that when we traveled on a plane together this last summer and he was wearing his dress blues, he wanted me to wear my tie dye shirt so that he could be the Marine traveling with the hippie just to challenge people's perceptions. He got offered a free seat in first class on that trip but wouldn't take it unless I could go with him. He is an incredible and honorable man.

The hardest thing about my brother being in Iraq right now is knowing that he would sacrifice his life without hesitation if that's what it took to save one of his fellow Marines. He told me the last time he was home that he knows what his future holds and he wants to do everything he can to make sure that his buddies have as much time as possible to make their peace with God. That is incredible love. That is the love that Christ showed and called us to, called me to. The love that causes someone to sacrifice their life for the sake of another. The love that causes someone to pray for their enemies and grieve the pain that comes with war. This is the type of love with which my brother lives, and I hope one day to live with it as well.

Here's to you Zach.

A Questioning Heart

I took a sort of personal retreat this last weekend. I have an amazing wife, seriously. She encouraged me to take a trip by myself, which I did. I drove up to Dunsmuir and spent the night in a quaint little hotel on the edge of town. I spent two days reading, writing, and going for walks in the rain, it was great. Anyway, I had a sort of breakthrough thought as I was writing on Friday night, and I wanted to post an exerpt. So, without further ado:

I was thinking today about the innocence of my earlier years compared with my cynicism of late. I've always known that going back, while it often seems appealing, is never a good idea. Growth is painful, but necessary. But I realized something. I realized I'm right where I need to be, and if I can get past my bitterness I may be on the right track. What I realized is that I am asking more questions now than I ever have, and this is something that is dangerous to lose. Before I spent my time looking for answers, but perhaps the key is to always ask the questions. As I grew up in the church and went to Bible College, it seems the focus was always on finding the answers. Studying theology and scripture through a specific lens so that we could teach and explain what and why we believe to other people. The problem is that the answers only worked some of the time, for only some of the questions. And as I mature, it seems like the answers change, or perhaps the questions. There is so much mystery in scripture and i can't help but wonder if God's intention was not to provide us with answers, but to push us to constantly question so that we would never get lazy in growing closer to his heart. Maybe we're not supposed to have fool-proof answers, maybe the mystery is there to keep us questioning. In this regard, I feel like in spite of my bitterness and cynicism, I'm right where I need to be, questioning. I'm beginning to see that I don't want to lose this. People who have the answers become fearful of the possibility they might be wrong. I want to be fearful of the possibility that I'm becoming complacent. Perhaps spiritual leadership should not be about guiding people to the answers, but guiding people to the questions that will bring them ever closer to the heart of God.

I did write this late on Friday night, so I hope it makes sense. I guess I feel like we in the church have been scared of questions because we want people to believe like we do. Maybe we feel that if we entertain too many questions or say "I don't know" to something, we'll look like idiots and no one will want to be a Christian. I think what we've done, with good intentions, is lost our ability to question and grapple with mystery and thus have run the danger of becoming complacent. And I'm talking at the basic level here. Asking questions like "What does it look like to be a follower of Christ in present culture and society". I'm talking about setting aside our preconceived notions of what we think we know, setting aside all our answers, and relentlessy asking questions in pursuit of the heart of God. I think this is how I will remain close to God's heart, by constantly asking questions. I'm beginning to see that what I thought was my greatest weakness is perhaps my greatest strength, a questioning heart.

The Beauty

I was in San Francisco this last week with my good friend Matt Will. We were meeting with several different groups of people from the city and local ministries to talk about what's being done in the city and what unmet needs still exist. The highlight of our time there was the day we spent with a couple guys who are living in community down there, wrestling with the question of what it means to be followers of Jesus, a question I am continually wrestling with myself. I've felt for sometime that I am going through the adolescent developmental stage of developing my own identity as a follower of Christ and an important part of that is questioning and in some ways rejecting the beliefs and identity of my parent's generation. I've been trying to approach the teachings of Jesus without the presuppositions of sunday school answers and life experience that have for so long tainted my perception. I want to see Jesus for who he is in a new and fresh way.

Anyway, we were talking with these guys about the perception that Christians often have of big cities like San Francisco, actually San Francisco in particular. I've heard this city several times sarcastically referred to as "the city of brotherly love" by Christians with whom I have to bite my tongue when I am engaged in conversation. We all know that San Francisco is the liberal and homosexual epicenter of the movement that is trying to destroy our nation and brainwash our children. Forgive the abrasive sarcasm, I suppose I have some frustration to work through. Anyway, these two refreshing young souls were telling us how they have interacted with so many youth groups who come into the city with the mentality that they are entering the darkest place on earth and they have all the answers to save it. Inevitably, this mentality always leads to causing abrasive misunderstanding amongst the residents of the city and elicits what I often refer to as "deserved persecution".

One of the guys we were talking to said something that has been replaying in my mind ever since. He said that to truly have an impact on the city, you have to truly love the city, every part of it, and be able to see the beauty in every part of it. He said that God has not left the city like everyone seems to think. The church has left the city and vacated into affluent suburbs, but God has not left. He is still very much at work, even in what people consider the darkest parts of the darkest city. He said that coming into the city with a self-righteous chip on your shoulder and sharing the "good news" without taking the time to learn the language, learn the culture, and see where God is at work causes nothing but further damage and driving a further wedge between people, the church, and God. Perhaps this is close to what Jesus meant when he talked about walking in another person's shoes.

People say that we go into the city and do street evangelism becuase we love people, but do we really? To truly love someone, you must take the time to get to know them. You learn their passions, their dreams, their struggles, and their dark little secrets. You take the time to sit with them when they're down and to celebrate with them when they're up. You are willing to die for them. You're not interested in them for the added notch you can put on your belt for another soul saved, you are interested in them for who they are, for their beauty as a human being and a child of God. As I continue to interact more and more with people who are diffferent from me, I think I'm beginning to learn what this means. I'm beginning to know what it is to become burdened because you love someone and want to help them stop their self-destructive pattern of life but realize they must learn that for themselves. I'm beginning to learn what it's like to love someone enough to die for them. I'm beginning to see how amazing it is that Christ loved the world so much that he suffered the consequences of their condemnation so they would not have to, knowing full well that some would still not chose to follow his teachings. And then I ask myself, do I love enough to take another's condemnation upon my shoulder's?