Up and Down

Identity

2011-07-02T10:12:00.000-07:00

One of the interesting things about being in a place such as I am right now is that you have the opportunity to essentially project whatever identity you see fit. You are in a new place, with people you've never met before and will in all likelihood never see again. It affords you the interesting opportunity to "reinvent" yourself as you see fit, if you so desire. I've had this opportunity many times in my life, being that we moved every three years or so throughout my childhood and the only people that really knew me that whole time was my family. Every time I came into a new place, I had these ideas in my head of how I wanted to be in this new place. I came here with that same desire, I wanted to project the ideal person that I had always wanted to be. Inevitably, however, you fall back into old patterns and end up being the same person that you didn't really want to be. I came here wanting to be the quiet, patient mystic who didn't get phased or upset by all the bullshit that we have to put up with every day; the one guy who didn't complain a lot, the guy that could be depended on to be peaceful in the midst of chaotic circumstances, the patient wise old guy who didn't allow things to affect him as much as the rest. My journaling since being here has resembled the tension that Paul expressed in Romans of the struggle between the flesh and the spirit. I know how I want to respond and who I want to be, but I find myself making the same mistakes in the heat of the moment--complaining about frustrating circumstances, expressing anger at people around me, being cynical, and opening my mouth way too much and saying things that I inevitably come to regret.

In many ways, I feel like this is a tension and struggle that I've dealt with for the majority of my life. Because of all the transition I have been through, I've really only had a few close friends that I feel really knew and understood me at a deep level. The reality is that for a long time I didn't really like who I was, I always wanted to be someone different and finding myself in a new place every three years allowed me to attempt to reinvent myself on a regular basis. This reinvention never really happened though. I always started off well and then eventually fell into old patterns until I moved on to the next place and was able to start again. One of our goals in moving to Baltimore was to attempt to put an end to this transition, to find a place where we would be happy settling down long-term and committing to long-term relationships in a community of people who would really know us and hold us accountable. In many ways, after our relocation, I was pretty happy with where we were. I was settled into a good career in education, we were looking at buying a house, I was getting a newspaper every day, I felt all grown up and ready to settle in and commit to a community, become pillars and solid community stalwarts that could participate in long-term influence and change. The test of this, however, would naturally be to experience some hardship. It is how we respond to turmoil that defines who we truly are and I was terrified by what I saw in myself. As I've expressed before, dark parts of me came out that I did not know existed and I felt a slight crisis in my identity. I responded irrationally by trying to reinvent myself as a full-time graduate student, as a soldier, as a husband and hopeful father trying to do what he could to provide for his family. I felt failure as a teacher and in many ways failure as a husband and therefore felt the need to find something in which I could feel success in some form of identity.

I think I've finally had a revelation that has shown me the core of the problem--I have always defined myself by external factors. How people perceive me, what I "do", how I react to circumstances, things I see in others that I like and try adopt for myself. I try to mold myself in certain ways to make myself the person I want to be and always come up short. I'm never fully happy with who I am or who I am becoming. And so the plaguing question continues to linger: how exactly am I defining myself?

As a follower of Christ, I'm beginning to realize that perhaps the crux of the problem is attempting to form my own identity in ways that I want to see it shaped, instead of finding my core and center in the person of Christ and seeking the guidance of his spirit to allow myself to be molded into the person he wants me to be. Most of the things I feel called to be, based on what I've read in scripture are the things that I want for myself--patient, loving, tolerant, contemplative instead of reactionary. So how do I get there? In church, we talk constantly of being guided and molded by the Holy Spirit--but what does that mean? In reflecting, I realize that I don't know what it means to be led by the Lord. I do what I can to be rooted in scripture and seeking out a better understanding of the new humanity that Christ modeled for us but I am not one of those people who can claim without reservation that he has heard the voice of the Lord and felt his clear guidance. I've always thought that the answer is in trying to always be about the heart of God and then making decisions within that, walking through open doors and when necessary owning up to the decisions that I've made. I often find myself wishing that I could claim to hear the voice of the Lord more clearly so that when things don't work out I can be upset and blame someone other than myself, feeling justified in my frustration and wanting things to change.

The answer seems clear in my head. I need to find my core identity in Christ, be a centered person so that when the winds of life begin blowing around me and the rivers begin to swell, I am not shaken. Who I am and how I am is not dependent upon constantly changing external circumstances but on the ever unchanging person of Christ. But what exactly does that look like? Is there ever a place we reach in this life that we can say we are truly grounded, centered people and are prepared to deal with whatever comes our way? Or are we stuck in this fallen world to be constantly living in a state of tension between the powers of the flesh, which call us to react and be shaken by the external, and the powers of the Spirit, which call us to exercise patience and control and an ever-centered mentality in the midst of the storm? How do we tap into the power of the that Jesus promised to leave with us in His Spirit?

As always, I find myself plagued with more questions than answers; but, as always, I find myself feeling perfectly comfortable with that. Many would say that is the cheap way out, settling for the tension of the unknown instead of making the decision to stand firm with a solid opinion on a given point. But I think that for too long we've been settling solidly on opinions that are not necessarily based entirely on the truthful reality that Christ has tried to teach us. I remain convinced that we still don't really get what Jesus was trying to say when he came to walk the earth and show us a different way. We certainly understand things a bit better than we did before, but Jesus in the gospels is constantly telling the disciples that they're not getting it. So, I still wonder, do we get it? Or have we, in many ways, settled back into what is comfortable for us, inventing black and white definitions and answers to all our questions instead of entertaining and tension-filled state of wonder? This is one of the reasons I appreciate so much leaders like Rob Bell, who often pose more questions than answers in their thinking and writing, but at least begin to guide the thought process more toward what I think Jesus has been calling us to understand. Perhaps some of the things we feel so certain about are misguided.

So, who am I? I guess for now I'm a guy asking a ton of questions about how to be the person I want to be and Christ is calling me to be. Trying to figure out how to be that centered person unshaken by the storms of life. I'm blessed enough to have an incredible wife who is incredibly patient and strong enough to stand by my side throughout all my screw-ups and attempts to become a better husband, hopeful father, and follower of Christ. In so many ways, she has been and continues to be a picture of Christ's undying patience and love for humanity. I'm becoming more okay with embracing my brokenness and realizing that I do not contain within myself the power to become the ideal person that I hope to be. Hopefully with continued patience, love, and guidance from my God and the loved ones in my life I can continue to take each day as it comes, celebrating successes and learning from mistakes, and becoming a bit more grounded with each passing moment, ready for whatever comes my way. I'm not sure when the answers will start to come but at least for now I feel like I'm asking the right questions.

Lessons

2011-06-11T13:20:00.001-07:00

If one thing is certain, this past year has been filled with lessons; often very difficult lessons that I would probably have preferred not to learn. For example, when you have a good steady job with excellent benefits that you've worked hard to attain, it's usually not the smartest idea to leave it in pursuit of a pipe dream. A lot of these lessons have been self-inflicted, and that's probably the hardest part about it when I look back in reflection. Lessons learned from hardship that just happens are one thing, but when you've caused the hardship by your own choices, as well intentioned as those choices may have been...well, that's another story altogether. That's not to say I'm not grateful for the lessons I've learned. I think I've done more growing up in this past year than in the 27 years prior. I've certainly spent ample time looking at all the positive that has come in spite of the mistakes and struggles, but it's hard not to feel a certain amount of regret.

One lesson I'm particularly grateful for is one that I've learned primarily from being in the Army. One of the goals of training is to get each soldier to the point that they can deal with adversity and stress from the outside without getting rocked or stressed out to the point that they can't perform under pressure. In the training environment, sergeants find all sorts of ways to mess with your external circumstances; it seems the primary reason for this is to see how you will respond. As frustrating as this can be, it serves a purpose. If you hope to be successful, or maintain any semblance of sanity in this environment, you very quickly learn to expect the worst be perfectly okay with the worst, then you're pleasantly surprised when things go better than expected. It's not quite pessimism though, it's a little different, it's more learning to be indifferent to your external circumstances. You learn to be okay with whatever happens...you make the decision to remain motivated and stay positive in the midst of uncertain external circumstances. A common Army mantra is "the only constant is change". You learn to love that, and you learn to laugh at the divine comedy of it all after you find yourself in ridiculous situations. It's Friday night after a long week when all you want to do is relax with a good book and pretend like you're somewhere else for awhile. At final formation you find out that because someone else didn't do their job that morning, something totally out of your control, you will now be working until 10:00 tonight with the rest of your platoon sweeping the parking lot and picking up cigarette butts. Instead of getting frustrated, you learn to laugh and make the best of it and you end up having fun. You're in the same crappy situation with a bunch of other people so you learn to come together and enjoy the insanity of it all. You embrace the suck. This seems minor, but it's little things like this that prepare you to deal with more difficult things...like being in another country dealing with bigger stressors if you ever get deployed. It's the little things that make you more prepared for the real suck, if anything can prepare you.

I think this is the best lesson I've learned in a while, and it's a valuable one...learning to maintain some semblance of sanity in the midst of constantly changing and stressful circumstances. It's a lesson that I'm learning dually from my experiences in the military and my life outside. I think this is the real key to being a centered person. It doesn't matter what happens on the outside, it's out of your control. If you're centered on what's really important to you, the things you can control, then you learn that you will be okay no matter what life brings your way. I'm learning to be centered on the things that are most important to me, the things that are within my control. My relationship with God, my marriage, the way I choose to respond to life circumstances that are out of my hands. I'm learning.

But it's not easy. I still have days when I feel overwhelmed with the number of things that are out of my control and plagued with hounding questions that echo through the deep recesses of my soul. Will I have a job when I get home? Will I be able to provide for my family? When will I become a father? When will the aching in my heart and body be soothed by holding my child in my arms? Will I be able to handle whatever happens next? Will I be able to be a better husband for my wife?

The common element to all these questions is what is out of my control.

One thing is for certain. The lessons are not over and the only constant is change. Hopefully I will keep learning and become a little bit stronger with each passing day.

Walden 3

2010-02-28T09:40:00.000-08:00

Jordana and I took one of our routine trips out to the suburbs the other day to take care of some shopping and other errands. By the end of the day, we were fantasizing about starting Walden 3. During our time in college together, we had to read Walden 2 for one of our psychology classes at Simpson University. We were certainly the oddballs in our program. Every class, most of the other students in the class would complain about how ridiculous and frightening the concepts of the book were. We often fantasized about how wonderful it would be to start a venture similar to what was described in the book, minus the way in which the children were raised. As we would drive around Redding on the weekends running errands, we became so disgusted with people and wanted to get away.

We have been experiencing some of the same emotions lately. It has not been an easy 2010 thus far, dealing with the emotions that come along with discovering you are pregnant for the first time and then finding out 8 weeks later that you lost the baby. As a result, emotions have been running near the surface and patience has been wearing thin. Impatient drivers honking at stoplights, people walking out in the middle of the street without checking for cars, trash lining the streets and sidewalks, our neighbors having their weekly drunken argument in the street, and the mother of three with another on the way cussing at her kids to get back in the fucking house. We hope that we are making some small difference in our sphere of influence, but it has been difficult not to entertain notions of getting the hell away from humanity and making a life somewhere far removed.

Living where we do and working where I do, it has become so much more clear to me why Jesus had to go off on his own so much. Perhaps Peter or one of the many people who came to Jesus for healing would have eventually received a solid punch in the face had Jesus not taken the time to go off on his own, recharge, and renew the incredibly patience necessary to work with people. The last few weeks, we've tried to keep in the habit of getting out of the city on Sunday for a hike in the woods. This has been such a meaningful time and has really been giving us the break we need to maintain perspective and keep from losing hope. We all need that break and we need to step away from daily reality on a regular basis so that we don't lose sight of the big picture and what is really important in life.

We recently watched "Into the Wild" together...highly recommended if you have not yet seen it. This young man essentially erases his identity and goes off on his own to live in the wild, having so many incredible experiences and adventures and never being tied down to a specific location. In the end, however, he died alone, shortly after having the realization that happiness is only real when it is shared. As tempting as it is to start a new existence somewhere and leave this world to destroy itself, that existence would be limited in meaning. For now, we will keep doing the best we can, making sure to escape on a regular basis to maintain perspective. Otherwise, someone might get punched in the face.

Daily Reality

2010-02-10T11:29:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting in the upstairs bedroom of my house, purchased this past July, watching snow blow sideways out the window. It snowed over two feet this past weekend, as has already snowed another foot between last night and today. School has been cancelled all week...it's like Christmas in February. I spent an hour shoveling snow off our porch roof yesterday to make sure that the extra weight from this new storm wouldn't cause it to collapse. Nearly everyone I know is complaining about this. Jordana and I are loving it. It's giving me time to catch up on some things...like this blog that has lain dormant for well over a year. I keep meaning to attend to it...but one thing or another always gets in the way. I was just reading some of my old posts and realizing how much has changed in the last year.

I've started working on my M.Ed. in Special Education. We have a dog. We bought a house in July. We went to Costa Rica in August, instead of buying a washer and dryer. Buying a house felt far too much like the societal norm so we had to do something unexpected to feel better about ourselves. It was a fantastic trip and it was nice to come back to a place we could actually call our own. We are the only white couple on our block, which has been an interesting experience. We live across the street from a guy and his wife who used to be very involved in "things they're not proud of" and "are very well known" in this city. They have pledged their undying loyalty to protect us. As long as we live in 602, ain't nobody gonna be messing with us because they will "throw down on these bitches". Despite the fact that they drive us crazy with their drunken arguments at all hours of the night, we love them. We took them a ginger bread house at Christmas and I thought they were going to cry. Their father, "pop-pop" spends the nicer months sitting on the front porch at all hours, just watching what happens on the block. Most days I love it here but others I am completely overwhelmed by the daily reality.

Being completely immersed in another culture can be very difficult, particularly if there are elements of that culture that are at direct odds with some of your core convictions. I am going to be completely transparent here, at the risk of sounding like a complete asshole. Before we moved to the city, I used to judge harshly people who chose the suburb lifestyle. I used to look down on people who tried to protect their children from the harsh realities of the world. I'm now beginning to understand why people make those choices. I may not agree that it is right or okay but it makes complete sense to me. It is so much easier to feel hopeful about life and the future when you are not daily having to confront the harsh realities of poverty and apathy. I have laid aside all self-righteousness that I once held about what a great person I am for the choices I have made. The reality is that it is a daily struggle to discover whether or not I can maintain some sense of hope in spite of it all. I battle students all day long, trying my damndest to help them develop skills that will enable them to be more "successful" in their future. Then, I come home and see the reality of their home life situations and completely understand why schooling is such a struggle.

My political ideals have been challenged in ways I did not think possible. Being honest about this with anyone other than my wife terrifies me because I remember how I used to judge people for adopting different views. I came into this with a firm belief in mandatory public education, and a firm desire to help students who did not see the value in education. But the current reality that I'm experiencing is that students who truly desire a meaningful education are suffering because so much of time is occupied just trying to move the class forward inch by inch. I can't even believe I'm saying this, but Ayn Rand's ideals of allowing the world to destroy itself and then rebuilding from the rubble have never made more sense to me. And here comes the real challenge. What is right in this situation? So many of my struggles are due to a complete difference in cultural values, and who is to say that I'm right? Maybe a lack of value in education and a focus on status and material value are okay. Maybe the things that cause me to lose hope for success are not the problems I'm making them out to be. Maybe my definition of success is not correct. Maybe it's okay for things to just stay the way they are. That seems to be the general mentality. If that's the case, I may just need to find a different niche because I cannot reconcile these things in my soul.

Perhaps none of this makes any sense. The reality is that 6 months ago I was incredibly proud of Jordana and I for truly living out our convictions. I have now been confronted with the reality of how painful it can be to live out your convictions and find myself sometimes questioning how legitimate those convictions actually are. How much of a difference are we actually making?

Toward the end of last year, I felt I had become fairly skilled at keeping myself focused on the things I could control...daily reminding myself of the successes, however small, I was making with my students. I feel I have gotten worse and worse at maintaining that focus and often simply find myself overwhelmed with the bigger picture. There is this constant tension of wanting to move on to something else, a simple job at which I could perhaps feel greater success and enjoy a simple life with my family while at the same time not wanting to give up and become another statistic to urban education. This is more difficult than I ever imagined but perhaps I simply make it more difficult than it needs to be. One thing is certain--I need to write more, that always seems to help with the process. This is all too much to keep inside my head.

Compounding all of this is an experience I hoped I would never have to suffer through. Around Christmas, Jordana took a home pregnancy test that turned out positive. We were blissfully excited. The next 5 weeks consisted of reading books about pregnancy, researching cloth diapers and making our own baby food, planning finances to adjust for the change, talking incessantly about how excited we were to be parents. Anyone who knows me is well aware of how much I have wanted to be a father for a very long time. We went in for our first doctor's appointment a few weeks ago ready to see our little grey ball of an alien-looking baby. Instead, we saw an empty black space. Turns out something happened early on to cause the fetus to stop developing. Jordana's body just hadn't yet gotten this message so she was still experience the symptoms of pregnancy even though there was nothing there. This was one of the hardest things I've ever experienced, though I tried hard not to let that show. The reality is that I've been quite angry about the entire situation. There are so many people in this city that do not want children, do not know how to care for children when they have them, and yet continue to have pregnancy after pregnancy. More and more children born into stressful situations, growing up in adverse circumstances, eventually coming to my classroom. Yet we, as a healthy couple, who would be loving parents, desperately wanting a child and instead we have a miscarriage. It makes me so incredibly angry and seems so completely unjust. And it certainly does not improve my outlook or sense of hope. I know that this is not the end for us and I'm sure I will be a father someday. But I was so ready. And no sentiment of "it must be for the best, God has a plan" can even come close to changing that.

I guess this is what happens when you go so long without writing. Things just sort of barf themselves up on the page and in spite of the chaos you realize how connected everything actually is. So here I am, confronting the daily reality in all its beauty and pain. I'm so thankful to have Jordana by my side, I don't know what I would do without her. She makes the daily reality that much more beautiful.

Lets see if I can keep this up better than I have in the past...

A New Day

2008-11-08T13:34:00.000-08:00

I had a few weeks about a month ago where I was seriously considering whether or not I was cut out to be a high school teacher in Baltimore City. I just wasn't sure I had the patience to put up with it all. Then something clicked and I learned to just start laughing at the things that were driving me nuts before. When they make fun of me, I laugh with them because let's face it, I do sound ridiculous when I get upset with them for making too much noise. They're not trying to disrespect me, I just sound ridiculous. My voice cracks and my face turns red. I'm learning to laugh a lot more, at myself and at my students. Here's a small sampling of the things that have made me laugh over the last few weeks:

1. Last week, I was in the middle of class when I looked over to see one of my students in the back corner of the room lifting his shirt up to his shoulders and putting scotch tape on his nipples. I stood there in momentary shock thinking to myself "This is not one of those scenarios I imagined myself encountering when I first thought about becoming a teacher". Not knowing how else to respond, I simply said "I'm really not interested in seeing you put tape over your nipples man", which elicited a fair amount of laughter from the rest of the class.

2. This week, I was reviewing action and linking verbs with my class and I was writing examples of action verbs on the chalk board while students were shouting them out. I heard one of my students utter the action verb "fuck" under his breath, thinking he was very smart. It doesn't take much time as a teacher before you learn the voices of all of your students. Without even turning around, I told that student to step out in the hall. After I got the rest of the class working, I went out to talk to this little gem (who I actually really do love, he's just a total goofball). It took him a minute of hard thinking before he realized that his smart remark wasn't as quiet as he thought. As he was walking back in the classroom, he said "Man, I can't believe Mr. Diehl heard that shit", to which I responded "I'm still standing right here". Again, he got a surprised look on his face and apologized before assuming his seat.

I love my kids, I really do. But man do they drive me crazy somedays. I have one student who mutters under his breath every day how much he hates my class and thinks I'm a boring and ridiculous teacher. Every assignment is stupid, and I constantly hear "fuck this shit" at the beginning of class before he decides to put his head down on his desk. Nearly every class period, however, he comes around within ten minutes and often becomes a key participant in the activity for the day. He drives me nuts, I can't tell you how many times I've felt like punching him in the face; but I love him to death.

As I continue to adjust to this new culture, I'm finding myself doing things I never thought I would do--but they work. Last week, I hit a kid in the face with a paper wad because he wasn't working. After it hit him, he looked up at me and said "What was that for", to which I responded "You're pissing me off". He worked hard the rest of the period. The next day another student was goofing off in class so I smacked him upside the head, lightly and playfully of course, and said "What's the matter with you?". Sometimes they just need that little reminder so they realized they're acting like a fool and need to get back on track. In my student teaching, I was grilled with the mantra "never touch students". I touch my kids every day, be it an encouraging pat on the back or a smack upside the head. Why? Because they need it, in more ways than one.

I was helping one of my students with his project last week, I wish I had a picture of him to post. If you met him on the street, you'd probably run the other way but he's one of the sweetest "gentle giants" I've ever met. He failed my class first quarter because he spent too much time goofing off and I thought he just didn't care. But the other day he told me that English was his best class. In my head, I thought "What? You don't do anything and you can barely read!" But he's coming to school every day, and he's trying, for which I am very grateful. He is one of my students who would be headed down a dangerous path were he not coming to school every day.

Two weeks ago, I bought a book for another of my gang-banging students who failed first quarter. He almost never reads when he's supposed to so when he asked for a specific book, I went out and bought it that night. When I brought it to him the next day, I nearly started weeping when I saw the look on his face as I gave him the book. That image is burned into my mind and keeps me going, even when I feel like opening fire on my fifth period class.

So, I'm surviving, and I'm hopeful about the future. This is the first year in a new school and a new place. It can only get better from here. And I'm excited that for the first time I can tell my students that they can be anything in life and truly mean it. My reasons for voting for Obama in this election had little to do with his race or persona, it was a complicated decision. A decision that apparently makes me an evil and simple-minded liberal, according to some who have known me in past lives. That being said, the fact that he is the first black president is an incredible inspiration to the people of this city. I wish that some of the people from my past life could come and spend a day with my kids in the city. I don't know how anyone could be the same. While my students still have the world working against them, it is clear that we have made incredible progress and they can do anything if they want it badly enough. I can't wait to see each and every one of them walk across the stage in four years. I have a suspicion they will all call me a cry baby on that day.

Coming up for air

2008-09-20T15:17:00.000-07:00

It's been over a year since I've posted on this blog. The last time I posted, I was living in an oppressive suburb of Sacramento in the home of my wife's grandmother working on my teaching credential. Currently, I am sitting on the back porch of our one bedroom apartment in Baltimore, enjoying a beautiful evening surrounded by the sounds of the city mixed with beautiful green trees and chirping birds. There's also a very curious squirrel who keeps getting very close to me. He hangs around our place a lot, walked right into our kitchen one morning when we had the back door propped open while eating breakfast. My life has changed somewhat in the past year.

After all of our thoughts and journeying, Jordana and I are finally living out our dream and conviction to be in the city. And what a city it is. When we first flew out here last May for my interviews with the school district, we had an immediate burden to be here. There is so much pain, beauty, love, hate, injustice, and potential all wrapped up in the bundle of insanity that is Baltimore city. And we cannot imagine being anywhere else. As we drove across the United States in July in our loaded down Penske truck, recently relieved of the burden of owning a car, we could not shake the feeling that we were coming home. Now we're living in the city, across the street from our good friends, absolutely loving our new home. I'm teaching at a new school--they're calling it a "transformation school". It's part of an effort by the new CEO of city schools to improve education in the city, our school is focused on preparing students for college and career in the areas of health care and construction. I ride a 1970's blue panasonic road bike to school every day, a 6.5 mile commute through bumpy city streets, and I teach 9th grade English.

Most of my students are reading at a 4th or 5th grade reading level, so we spend a lot of time in my class working on that. I purchased several sets of high-interest books at the beginning of the year and by the third week of school other teachers were having to tell students to put the books away during class. During the first week of school I had my students write a "Where I'm From" poem and some of the results broke my heart. Students wrote about their neighborhoods where they heard gunshots every night, police visits are a regular occurrence, and they've already lost friends to gunfire at 14 years of age. With all that in mind, I try to have patience with the little behaviors in the classroom that drive me insane.

The honeymoon period is over in my classroom. I had my first fight last week, which was discouraging more than anything else. I find my patience wearing thin as I try to remind myself that they are only 14 years old and have a lot of work to do on their impulse control. My frustration level is increased when I think about the fact that I'm in one of the better schools in the city. Could I have made it in a more difficult school? I try to focus on the little things, like reading over the shoulder of a student writing in his journal at the end of class that he finally understood a concept we had been talking about for a week. Or the young girl who slept through my class the first two weeks and magically started writing in her journal every day this last week. Or the student who expressed his absolute hatred for reading at the beginning of the year who now excitedly comes into class asking me if he will get to read from his personal book today. Or the girl who constantly complains how boring my class is but still lights up with a smile when I greet her in the morning. Or the mother who said she was so thankful that her son had a teacher who cared when I called home last week to trouble shoot some behavior issues.

But so often I get frustrated, overwhelmed, and discouraged. With the complexity of social inequality and systematic oppression in which so many of my students and families around the city are stuck. With my lack of patience and strength to be the teacher and person I wish to be. With the fact that last weekend I felt like quitting, and I haven't even had a terrible experience.

The diversity in this city is incredible. The home values on our street are in the 300,000's, while the home values one street over are 150,000 less. Incredible transformation of demographics literally happens from block to block. Our block is very safe, drug deals happen in the streets 5 blocks down, then two blocks south of that is safe again. Boarded up row homes can be seen everywhere, remnants of the great white flight that augmented the suburbs and left holes in the city. I love this city, I love the people, I love the potential. I don't know how long I will be teacher or what the next years of our lives will look like but I know that we are here for a reason and I cling to that promise. I believe in my students and frustrated as I may get, I cannot wait to see them grow throughout this year. The problems that face us are overwhelming, but we cannot become paralyzed by that fact. I will continue to focus on the small successes and when necessary, I will come up for air.

A Call to Arms

2007-08-05T22:15:00.000-07:00

As I've heard from several people in my life, it has been far too long since I've created a new and brilliant post on this blog. I'm attempting to correct this error, so anyone still interested in following along with my musings should look for more regular posts in the near future. It has been awhile since I've written, so I don't know how coherent this post will be. As always, remember that I often speak in generalities to make a point so by no means are my thoughts meant to be representative of some elusive whole. At any rate, I hope you continue to enjoy my up and down journey...

I have a lot of qualms with the current state of the church, that is no big secret. But as those of you who have been following my journey are aware, I attempt to balance my complaints and cynicism with a sense of personal responsibility by asking what I can do about the problems that I see. One of the biggest problems I have with the church is the retreat away from the cities to the affluent suburbs.

When my friend Matt and I were in San Francisco last year, we met with a pastor of a small church down there who brought this phenomenon to my attention in a whole new way. He grew up in the city and told us that all he remembered of the church from his childhood was them leaving the city. Church after church would spring up, face adversity, and retreat. Later that day we went on a prayer walk with a prominent leader in the Christian and Missionary Alliance and he began repenting for the ways in which the church had abandoned the city. During that short trip to San Francisco, I had a new realization of the way in which the church was ultimately responsible for what it now fears in the "evil" of the city. This has happened repeatedly throughout church history. San Francisco at one point was even home to an influential Bible College that retreated to a smaller town in Northern California. I once even heard an elder in a church speak from the pulpit about a church he used to pastor in what used to be "a nice middle class neighborhood". The city soon sprang up around this church, including a brothel that opened up down the street, and the congregation began praying about how to respond. They quickly sold their building and retreated to a "nicer" area outside of the city.

People in the church today seem to fear the city. But I think that we are ultimately to blame. We abandoned the city and left a vacuum. We are responsible for the state the city is in; the injustice, the oppression, the evil, the perceived lack of spirituality. I actually like the city, I find it less frightening than the suburbs, but I also admit that there are many problems in the city and can see why many people find it frightening. But I believe that we are ultimately responsible for those things that cause fear because we left, we abandoned the city.

I was thinking about all of this the other day and came to a humbling conclusion regarding my attitudes toward the church. It seems to me that many churches retreat from the city because things get hard and scary and confusing and they're not sure what to do. So they leave. Essentially, this is what myself and many people in my generation are doing to the church. Things get hard, we're not sure what to do, so we retreat. That begs the question, are we ultimately responsible for the perpetuation of the problems we see in the church?

When I think of the way in which I retreated from the church several years ago, I see many parallels with the church's retreat from the city. Things got hard, I felt trapped, I felt like I had no voice or ability to effect change, I was confused. So I abandoned the church, not sure of what else to do. The problem is, I think that for the church to go in the direction that it needs to go, there need to be people intimately involved who are asking the right questions. And if everyone asking the right questions retreats from the church, a vacuum is left. Then we begin to fear the church and retreat to the suburbs of cynicism and bitterness. Once we've made this retreat, we lose our voice in the church, much like the church has in many ways lost its voice in the city. Regaining that voice takes strength, persistence, and will beyond measure. And I do not believe it can be accomplished by our strength alone. But if we are serious about attempting to change the problems we see, we must fight to regain our voice. Or we can just remain comfortable in our suburbs and point out the problems in the city.

So this is a call to arms, to all those who have retreated from the church. It's time to rise up and by the grace of God regain our voice. Whether we like it or not, the church was Christ's idea and central to the outworking of the Gospel. So if we are true followers of Christ and passionate about living out the Kingdom of God on earth, we must regain our voices in the church and begin living out the change in which we believe. This will not be an easy road. Ahead of us lie many hurts, many battles, many misunderstandings and long nights of anger and frustration. But we cannot allow ourselves to be responsible for the church becoming something that we fear. I dream that one day we can take all of our frustrations and questions and use them to effect change in bringing the church into what she is called to be. Ahead of me lie more pain and hurt than what drove me to retreat in the first place, but I cannot allow myself to remain in abandon of the church any longer. It's time to leave the suburbs behind and return to the city.

As I was reading last night, I came across this Franciscan Benediction that spoke to me and seems an appropriate way to close this post:

May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
So that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and
To turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world,
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

Amen

Now I Hear

2007-01-15T19:55:00.000-08:00

Thinking back upon my younger years as a Christian, I remember operating quite heavily upon an “us and them” mentality. My job was to surround myself with things that resembled “us” and try my best to make “them” be more like “us”. And of course my efforts were helped along immensely by things like the Christian music industry, which provided me with a wonderful comparison chart that told me which Christian bands I should listen to based on which secular bands I enjoyed. In my youthful zeal, I was under the impression that individuals like Kurt Cobain were the epitome of evil and Ozzy Osbourne and Marilyn Manson were very close to the devil in human form. I grew up in a Christian society that had managed to completely shut itself off from the voices of the outside world by labeling as dangerous anything that was different. I thought I was in the world and not of it, but I was not even in the world, I was completely disengaged. Something always felt wrong to me, but I was doing everything right. I was listening to all Christian music, I didn’t watch rated R movies, I hung out with the Christian kids at school, I went to “see you at the pole”; I was a true Christian. Or so I thought.

Over the last few years, I’ve really come to appreciate Kurt Cobain. I think he had an amazing ability to see and condemn hypocrisy in many social institutions, the church included. The problem was that we weren’t listening because he said bad words and had scary music videos. Not to mention that Nirvana is a term from another religion and Audio Adrenaline was the proper Christian alternative. I’ve also heard Marilyn Manson interviewed a couple times and I’ve learned a lot from his views on society. I think he’s actually a pretty brilliant guy that we could learn something from but we’re not listening because he paints his face real scary and sometimes looks like a woman. I have to confess, I still don’t know a whole lot about Ozzy Osbourne except that he once bit the head off a bat but he probably just did that to freak people out. And it worked.

What I’ve discovered is that people who are different from me aren’t really that scary. They’re just people. Maybe some of them worship the devil, but they’re still people. And I think the Bible’s pretty clear that we’re not supposed to be afraid anyways. I also think that creating the safe little Christian bubble that we have is really dangerous. When we shut off the voices of the outside world, we run a serious risk of missing the truth that comes from diverse perspectives. I’m not saying there is no diversity inside the bubble, because there certainly is, but I think Marilyn Manson and Kurt Cobain can spot a lot of things that someone inside the bubble would probably miss. When people hate us, I think we should ask why. Yes, I know that Jesus promised the disciples that the world would hate them because it hated Him first so I’m sure we can look forward to much of the same. However, I also know that the disciples were arrested, beaten, and threatened primarily on the authority of religious leaders. And I believe that some of the hatred the church feels today is due to unacknowledged mistakes that have been made in the name of the gospel, not the gospel itself. The gospel is controversial, yes, but I believe the gospel is about more than inviting people to look like us. I believe the gospel is about living in a way that transforms society from the bottom up. An “Irresistible Revolution” as Shane Claiborne calls it that empowers the disenfranchised and listens to people who are different than us. I have a feeling that if Jesus were in human form today, he’d be friends with Marilyn Manson. I think Jesus would take him out for coffee, love him, and listen to what he has to say. I’m not afraid anymore, and I’m ready to listen. Maybe if we listen past the fear and the anger, we’ll discover some truth that we need to hear.

Deep, Dark, Secret Past

2006-12-13T04:40:00.000-08:00

My wife and I are in Germany right now, and we’re having a wonderful time. I still speak very little of the language, but am thoroughly enjoying myself in spite of that barrier and I feel completely at home here. A few nights ago we went to the Hofbrauhaus, where they only serve beer by the liter. After that, we went to walk through the Veinaksmarkt, which is basically a winter market. They have all sorts of different stands selling chocolate covered fruit (amazing!), chestnuts, and handmade crafts. We also had Gluwein, which is wine heated up with honey and herbs. Amazing.

Last Thursday morning we took the train out to the Dauchau concentration camp. It was such a humbling experience to see the site where some of the worst atrocities in history were committed. It was even more humbling to walk over soil that had literally been fertilized by the ashes of thousands of people who were burned in the crematorium. While we were there, we saw several large groups of high-school aged students. I learned that one of the requirements in the German school system is to visit at least one concentration camp during your schooling. The reason for this is to remind the students of the terrible mistakes that were made in the past, to educate them on the reasons for these mistakes in hopes of ensuring that nothing like this ever happens again in Germany’s future. I began thinking about the mistakes that have been made in my country’s history: slaughtering thousands of Native American men, women, and children as we expanded westward; dropping two atomic bombs resulting in the gruesome deaths of thousands of innocent people and terrible health complications for years afterward. I believe most people today would admit that our nation has made many mistakes, as has any nation; this is how we learn. However, students in Germany are forced to confront in a very personal nature the mistakes of their nation’s past. They are required to visit a site at which thousands of people were murdered. They walk down the line where the barracks built for 200 people housed 2000. They walk through the rooms where dead bodies were stored and cremated. They see pictures and hear stories from people who spent years in the concentration camps. They confront their country’s past mistakes in a very real and personal manner. People fear showing too much patriotism in Germany like flying a flag or singing their national anthem because these symbols were associated with such gruesome acts in the past. I wonder what our nation’s flag represents to the families of those who were murdered as our society expanded westward. I wonder what our flag represents to the families in Japan who lost loved ones when the bomb was dropped and for years afterward. I believe in what our flag represents, but I also recognize that many mistakes have been made under the authority of that flag. I’m not attempting to argue that we should dwell on our mistakes and constantly feel guilty, but continually being aware of the mistakes of our past is the only way we can avoid making them again. It is the only way to ensure the motto that is written upon the memorial at Dauchau, “Never Again”. When we talked about the horrific events in the history of the U.S. in my in schooling, it was seldom in a manner that forced us to confront and learn from mistakes. I almost feel as if we attempt to forget about the mistakes of the past in order to work toward a better future. But as I contemplated during our visit to Dauchau, I realized that if we forget about our mistakes, we might make them again.

There now stand on the grounds of the concentration camp 4 memorials erected by the Jewish, Catholic, Protestant, and Russian Orthodox churches. These memorials exist to honor the many who were killed and function as a place where visitors can offer up prayers. Directly on the other side of the north wall of the camp now lies a convent, formed in the shape of a cross. The nuns who live in this convent are there solely to pray for redemption and reconciliation as a result of the atrocities committed in this camp. This tells me that these nuns recognize the long-lasting effects in the spiritual realm of grave mistakes and terrible evils. The effects of such events don’t just go away, I believe that there are long-lasting implications in both the spiritual and physical realms. You can’t bury the past.

All of this has me thinking a lot. It makes me think about how we handle the past in the church as well. Like our country’s flag, the church represents pain, hurt, and suffering to many people. Sometimes I wonder if we have spent so much time trying to overcome our guilt that we have failed to spend the time we need remembering the mistakes of the past so that we don’t make them again. Some of the evils that have been done in the name of the church (and our country) warrant building a convent and spending years in prayer.

And naturally, I must end with some personal reflection, for I know that the problems in my church and country begin with me and change must begin here as well. I’m a guilt-ridden person. Anyone who knows me can testify that I feel guilty for the silliest things because I am constantly concerned with the approval of others. In this vein, reflection on past mistakes has always been torture for me because I felt bad enough when I made the mistake. Why would I want to revisit it? My solution has always been to move on to the next thing, hoping that the future will improve as I live and learn. But I’m realizing that perhaps I’ve been looking at it in the wrong light. I’m not talking here about constantly dwelling in the past, that’s ridiculous. What I’m talking about is being a true student of history on a personal, spiritual, and political level. I’m talking about studying mistakes to discover why they were made and what the results were. I’m talking about truly learning from the mistakes we make. Because as I reflect, I begin to see that I often do not learn from my mistakes, I make the same ones over and over again. And I think part of this is because I move on far too quickly in order to avoid feeling guilty. I don’t spend the time that I need in order to truly learn from my mistake so that it doesn’t happen again.

I was reading a book called “White Teeth” last night by Zadie Smith and I came across a quote that I believe sums up what I’m getting at quite nicely. “He was no student of history (and science had taught him that the past was where we did things through a glass, darkly, whereas the future was always brighter, a place where we did things right or at least right-er)”. I think this is how I have viewed life for quite some time, things just automatically get better and brighter as time progresses. But now I’m beginning to wonder, if we don’t take the time to reflect and learn from our mistakes, will the future still get brighter? If we forget about our deep, dark, secret past, what will keep the past from becoming our future?

With Pride

2006-12-05T13:44:00.000-08:00

My wife and I moved recently. After devoting two years of our lives to service with AmeriCorps in Tehama County, we have relocated to Rancho Cordova (just outside Sacramento). We are living with family while we go to school, I'll be pursuing my teaching credential and Jordana her Masters in Social Work. A few weeks ago we spent some time reflecting on the last few years of our lives. We committed two years of our lives to the community in which we were serving, which was a relatively new feeling for both of us to realize. As we reflected, we realized that as we moved on we would be leaving our imprint on this community in a very real way. Traditions such as Family Fun Nights did not exist before we created them and have now become a much-loved staple in the community. As we reflected, I felt a real pride in what we had done and I realized that in spite of the bitterness and cynicism that we had worked through in the past few years regarding the church, God was still very much at work in our lives. Using two broken vessels to bring fresh light into a community. We also quickly realized how difficult it would be to leave the community to which we had devoted ourselves for two years. We had developed relationships with families, children, and co-workers, we were invested and involved in their lives. Though I have moved often in my life, this was one of the most difficult transitions I have ever made. When I spent my last time with the young boy I have mentored for the past two years, he nearly cried on the drive home because he was afraid he'd never see me again. This caused me to tear up as well. I developed a real love for him during the time we spent together. It was hard to leave.

The most exciting realization I had as we were reflecting on our last two years was the way in which my wife had begun to live out what she has fealt called to for most of her life. She has always had a passion for women, to see women rise up into their identity as loved daughters of God and live in that confidence. While she was somewhat involved in church ministries for women in the past and enjoyed that, it always felt like there was something missing. Within the last 10 months I have seen a new passion arise in her because she has discovered a heart and talent for working with teenage girls. This, I believe, is the fulfillment of her vision and passion for empowering women.

Jordana spent the last year working with foster youth who have spent many years in the system. It is not uncommon for her youth to have been placed in 30-40 different foster homes in their short lives. She worked with these youth to help them with basic life skills that most people take for granted, such as how to open a bank account, how to write a check, or how to pump gas into a car. She also helped them to establish goals, find housing for when they turn 18, and find resources for school and jobs. One of the projects she was able to lead this year was called Girl's Circle. Jordana facilitated this 12-week group for girl's in which they talked about a range of issues such as body image, sexuality, dating, violence, and family. While only two girls ended up committing to the group long-term, it turned out to be a monumental experience for both the girls and Jordana. As the group went on week after week, Jordana would come home with a very heavy heart because of the pain that she was learning about that had taken place in these girl's lives. Out of respect to the girls, Jordana kept the confidentiality of the group and never shared details with me. She only told me that she couldn't believe the pain that these girls had experienced in their short lives. I respect her so much for that, for maintaining the girl's trust and not sharing details with me. I'm not sure I could have done the same.

She did share one detail with me. She said that during the group in which they talked about relationships, Jordana asked the girls what a healthy relationship looked like. One of the girl's quickly responded "you and Colter". It blessed me to hear that the Lord was working through our marriage in that way.

Because Jordana and I worked in the same office, I became somewhat aquainted with the girls in this group. On the last day of group, the girls came into my office and said that they wanted to show me what they bought for Jordana as a going away gift. They had bought her a beautiful bracelet with the words "strength, believe, and trust" engraved on it. They also gave her a card in which they wrote their gratitude to her for the influence she had on their lives and asking her to never forget them. As a result of this group, the two girls became good friends and have served as great support for one another. They both said that this group had been life-changing for them, teaching them to deal with their past pain so they can move on with life. Teaching them to establish goals for themselves. Helping them to realize their beauty and that they deserve to be treated well. One of the girls said that the group had helped her to reconnect with God as she began to deal with the hurt and bitterness that she was harboring. As I saw the excitement and pain on these girls faces as they prepared to say their goodbyes, I knew that Jordana was living out her vision and her passion. I knew that the Lord had worked through her to influence the lives of these girls in a very positive manner. I knew that these girls would never forget Jordana and Jordana would never forget them. As they walked out of my office I was so filled with pride for my wife that I began to tear up. She had finally found an outlet for the vision the Lord had given her. She had finally found a way in which to live out her passion. And I know there are at least two lives that are better for it, Jordana's as well. With the pride of a husband, I honor my wife. With the pride of a father, I know the Lord honors her as well.

Here's to you Jordana.

A Tribute to My Brother

2006-11-12T21:43:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-05T20:11:00.000-08:00

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

2006-11-02T21:53:00.000-08:00

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?

The Fear

2006-10-19T15:30:00.000-07:00

I've been a part of this Bible study recently in which we study scripture without any chapter or verse divisions and attempt to place ourselves in the mindset of the original readers of the scripture, meaning that we can't reference anything that was written after the book we're studying. The idea is to approach scripture without all of the preconceived notions that we generally have. We also try to focus on observation rather than immediate application so that we don't miss things that we've missed in the past. Anyway, we're currently studying the book of Acts. This week we were studying a passage in which Peter and another apostle were brought before the Sanhedrin and threatened, warned not to preach in the name of Jesus any longer. After this litte encounter, the two apostles went back and met with a group of believers and began to pray. The content of their prayer stood out to me in a way I had not ever noticed before. It would seem that the normal human reaction to being threatened for preaching in the name of your savior would be to pray to that savior for protection. But this is not what the believers did. They prayed not for protection, but for boldness to continue spreading the gospel in spite of these threats, and they prayed that the Lord's hand would accompany them, performing signs and wonders. It's as if they knew that this was a cause they were willing to die for and the only thing they wished for was courage to keep going in spite of impending danger. They knew that the message they were preaching was controversial, it was an absolute threat to the religious and power stuctures of the day. They understood the prophesies that said that Jesus would be a rock that causes men to stumble. They did not expect that people of the society in which they lived would blindly accept what they were saying or respect them for it, they knew that their lives would be threatened. But I also find it interesting that, like Jesus, these apostles were really only overly confrontational with the religious leaders of the day who were misleading and sick with power. Like Jesus, they healed the sick and cared for people in practical ways while sharing the good news of Christ.

Out of this, I began thinking of how we often act in the church today. I don't think that true boldness currently exists in our church culture. Rather than understanding and expecting that the gospel that Christ preached was subversive and called for power structures to be turned upside down, we've created our own little Christian "subculture" and believe that when people challenge this subculture we are being persecuted in the name of Christ. I believe that most persecution that we receive in this country is justly deserved. Notice that the persecution Jesus promised the apostles would receive came not from normal people in society, but from the religious leaders. Rather than pray for boldness to continue living as Christ has called us, we petition the government to pass laws that make people respect our message and our morals. Rather than pray for boldness, we hover up in our safe little corners and pray for protection from that big bad world out there. Are we missing the point? Have we lost touch with the idea that the gospel Jesus preached will be controversial, but not in the way that we currently see controversy?

Once again, I return to my mantra, the love of Christ. To truly love in the face of all danger takes the ultimate courage and boldness. To pray for protection does not take love, because when we pray for protection from our human brothers and sisters, we are turning them into the enemy. Jesus also called us to love and pray for our enemies, and I confess this is not easy for me. My brother is fighting a war in Iraq right now, and for me to think of praying for the men who are trying to kill him is very difficult, but this is what I am called to. Lord, give the courage to pray for boldness rather than protection, for this is a true measure of love.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

2006-10-04T14:42:00.000-07:00

I was teaching a life skills class at the Juvenile Justice Center a few days ago, I had a group of nine youth and we were talking about respect. For kids in Juvenile Hall, respect is generally a fairly important topic. We were talking about how we react when other people disrespect us, and how this relates to our self-respect. Almost all of the youth said that if they did not react when someone disrespected them, they would be viewed as weak and would not have anyone’s respect. We got into a very interesting discussion, where I asked repeated questions that they thought about and answered. Several times they became frustrated and said “this is hard”, to which I responded, “I know it’s hard, that’s because we’re challenging our assumptions. Challenging our assumptions to see what they’re made of is a very important part of life. Otherwise, we may be living our life according to false assumptions”. As we neared the end of the class, I felt like we had a “breakthrough” moment together, I saw they’re faces light up with realization as they got it. I wanted to share part of our conversation, because I found it really intriguing and it was a revealing moment for me as well.

Me: We’ve talked about different kinds of respect. Do you feel the respect that you get by reacting to someone who disrespects you is positive or negative? Is this respect worth having?

Youth: Yeah, it’s worth having, because people respect you.

Me: Okay, but is that respect positive or negative?

Youth: Positive.

Me: Why?

Youth: Well, because it makes you feel better about yourself.

Me: Why does it make you feel better about yourself?

Youth: Because you feel better than the person who disrespected you.

Me: Ah, so you feel better about yourself because you feel better than someone else?

Youth: Yeah.

Me: Do you think it’s healthy for us to need to feel better than someone else in order to feel good about ourselves?

Youth: (long pause) No.

Me: Why not?

Youth: I don’t know.

Me: Who is responsible for your self-respect, you or someone else?

Youth: We are.

Me: Okay, so if your self-respect is dependant upon other people, are you responsible for it?

Youth: No.

Me: If your self-respect is dependant upon other people, needing to feel better than them, is that true self-respect?

Youth: No.

Me: What does true self-respect look like?

Youth: Maybe someone who doesn’t care what other people think of them.

Me: Yeah, someone who is confident enough in who they are that they don’t feel the need to react when someone disrespects them. They don’t feel the need to earn the respect of others by fighting someone who disrespects them because they have enough confidence in themselves.

I got so excited in this conversation because I could see the youth really thinking about this and I could tell it was sinking in. We went on to talk about the importance of respecting ourselves enough to want to improve ourselves, and that sometimes when we feel disrespected, there may actually be some truth to what the person is saying that we can learn from and improve ourselves. At the end of the class several of the youth said, “Man, you’re a genius dude”. When I asked what they meant, they said “We never would have thought of this stuff”. I replied, “Hey, all I did was ask questions, you guys came up with this”. I’ve been going to the Juvenile Justice Center for three weeks now, and I am thoroughly enjoying it. Some of the kids there are hard, they’ve seen and been through a lot in their short lives, but they’re still kids and they have so much potential. Hopefully the conversations we have together will have an impact, I know they’ve impacted me.

The Door

2006-10-01T19:55:00.000-07:00

So I've been having this inexplicable sense lately that someone needs to do something about the downward cycle of our current state of societal affairs. Jordana and I have been in that place of trying to figure out what the next few years of our lives will look like. Will we buy a house? Will we go overseas? Will we live here forever? Will we have children? In the midst of all these questions comes a large bundle of emotions like cynicism, fear, excitement, and anxiety. How do we keep from falling victim to the "American Dream"? How do we change that dream into something that is not empty, wasteful, and ignorant? How do we live out the kingdom of God in our materialistic society, what does this look like? I was journaling during worship at church tonight and thinking about everything that's happening around the world and our connection with it. It seems like in this country we like to view grief and violence as a distant thing in terms of "those poor people, we'll pray for them". I can't shake this sense that we are connected to everything that's happening, we have personal stakes and responsibility in it. Anyway, I was journaling and wanted to share a little excerpt from what I wrote because I found it rather intriguing, I was pretty happy with it. Anyway, here it is:

Father, wash white as snow our world that is crimson-stained beyond recognition with the blood of innocents, with the sins of our fathers, with the sins of ourselves. In the end, we are all responsible. Has it happened through complacency, through ignorance? Are we the frogs in a boiling pot of water who are none the wiser because we allowed this to happen gradually? This is no longer on the shoulders of our fathers, no one else is to blame. It is on us, it is our responsibility. We must be the ones to step up, to take action. We must be the ones to fight hate with love, complacency with action, materialism with meaning and substance, the dream of America with the dream of Christ. I feel as if I am at the doorway to a new realm, but I don't know how to open the door.

Will the real gospel please stand up?

2006-09-07T16:37:00.000-07:00

We've been doing this unique study of scripture lately where we study the bible without any chapter or verse divisions, just the text as written. The idea is to try to approach scripture in a new light and merely observe what is written rather than jump straight to application, which is what we usually do. We've been studying the book of Mark, and it's beeen pretty amazing, I can't believe how much stuff I've missed just because I've spent my whole life reading my pre-determined applications into the text. Anyway, a few weeks ago we were studying the passage in Mark where Jesus starts talking about all sorts of crazy and wierd things that never made any sense to me. You know, stuff like the moon turning into blood and that we better pray it doesn't happen in winter. Certainly we've had plenty of explanations thrown our way of what these things mean, that they're literal events that will happen right before "the rapture", but I've always struggled with them becuase Jesus said to the disciples that "this generation will not pass away" until these things happen. Before I go on, I should say that the passage in Mark I'm referring to is in chapter 13.

So, we were studying this passage a few weeks ago and we had a fascinating discussion surrounding one statement in the passage, when Jesus says that the gospel must first be proclaimed to all nations. We talked about how the traditional sunday school understanding of this passage is that there is some hidden tribe somewhere in the world and as soon as they pray "the sinner's prayer" the end of the world will happen, whatever that is. But, as we continued to explore, we started asking the question "What is the gospel?" Our traditional understanding of the gospel is that Jesus is God and if we invite him into our hearts we are saved, but perhaps we're not getting the whole picture. In the beginning of Mark, we are told that Jesus went about "proclaiming the gospel". So, we started looking through to see exactly what it was that Jesus was preaching. As far as I can tell, the message Jesus was proclaiming had relatively little to do with his identity as the son of God. Certainly he had conversations with people, such as his disciples, about his identity but even this was generally just to ask questions such as "Who do people say that I am?" The message he was preaching was a way of life that could perhaps be described as the Kingdom of God. The message he was preaching was completely subversive and contradictory to the present way of life and culture. The message he was preaching was one of love in spite of hate, generosity in spite of selfishness, caring for those who don't deserve it. He preached a way of life that, if lived according to his instruction, would literally turn the world upside down. It would challenge power structures, it would challenge perceptions, it would cause chaos.

As I read this passage in Mark, where Jesus is describing all of these crazy things that don't make any sense, the theme that stands out above all else is chaos. Jesus seems to be painting a picture of the world in absolute chaos, the type of chaos that would ensue if people began to truly live in the way that he preached.

What if we're missing the boat? What if, in attempting to spread the gospel and thereby bring about the return of Jesus, we've been preaching the wrong gospel? It seems as though in our attempts to win converts and make things understandable we have turned the gospel into a tiny, easily digestible morsel of Jesus as God and savior of our lives. In reality, the true gospel is mysterious, complex, confusing, hard to digest at times and difficult to understand. While Jesus as Lord is certainly part of this, the real message of the gospel is so much more. It's this kingdom way of living in the present that is not some destination we can escape to at the end of the world but something that can and should become a present reality. The real gospel, when spread to all nations, will cause the chaos that is described in Mark 13. The real gospel is message that challenges our current power and societal structures and would therefore cause nation to rise against nation, king to rise against king, and a young man to rise against his father. What if we're not supposed to stand idly by while the world destroys itself and hang on for the hope of the rapture? What if instead of preaching a message of empty morality, we are supposed to be living in such a way that the world is turned upside down by the love of Christ?

I feel that this is more a jumble of incoherent thoughts than anything else, but it is beginning to make so much more sense to me than what I've believed for most of my life. I want to live in the way Jesus described, the way that doesn't make sense to the world. I want to live a life that challenges the status quo and turns the world upside down through the love of Christ. I want live the life of the Kingdom of God as a present reality.

How's my Turban?

2006-08-24T08:22:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here in the Sacramento International Airport, preparing to fly out to Montana to spend some time with my brother and family. I knew this was going to be a frustrating day when I woke up this morning because our country is living in such a state of fear that we can't even take water bottles on airplanes. Snakes can make it on to airplanes, but not water bottles (for those of you who are confused by that sentence, maybe you should ask Samuel L. Jackson about it). I also knew that I would probably get upset at the security checkpoint because it's generally some little short guy who got picked on when he was younger and is now sick on the power that he has to make people strip and lose every sense of dignity they once had before walking through his metal detector. I wasn't prepared, however, for the ridiculous racial profiling that I observed this morning, nor was I prepared for my reaction to it.

There were, by my estimate, no less than 80 people in the security line in front of us this morning. I was watching them all rather closely because I am fascinated by the art of watching people. Out of those 80 people, only one of them was pulled to the side for a full security check, pat down and all. He was an older gentleman, late forties by my guess, he appeared to have a very gentle and understanding spirit, he was wearing a collared shirt with a tie and black jeans. He also had dark skin, a beard, and was wearing a turban. While angry looking twenty-somethings with t-shirts declaring anarchy and upper middle-class white people walked by unnoticed, this gentle-spirited man was pulled aside and humiliated in front of everyone in the security line. Why? Well, he looked like a terrrorist of course. He was wearing a turban and had dark skin, so out of the other 80 people in line he was clearly the only one who posed any kind of potential threat to airport security.

I watched this man as the security guard flagged him down after walking through the metal detector, as the security guard held up a red paddle and yelled "male check on one". I watcehed this man as he was taken off to the side, and secured in the roped off area. He did not react. He merely nodded his head and quietly complied as he was led off and searched, the only one out of at least 80 people that I observed. I looked at his face as walked by him and saw the sadness, the removal of dignity in his eyes. His face looked to me like that of a person who had just lost his right to be human. It made me want to buy a turban, put in on, and walk by his side for a month to experience what his life was like, to give validation to the pain and suffering that he must endure simply because he is different from the rest of us. It made me want to ask the security guard why he wasn't searching me, or Jordana. After all, Jordana's skin is not white, some people think she's from the middle east. Maybe she could be a threat to national security. As I walked by and saw the sadness and the hurt in this man's eyes, I hurt for him. I thought to myself that if I were in his shoes, if I didn't have anti-american sentiments before this experience, I would certainly have them afterwards. I thought to myself that i do not believe it is our freedom that has currently made us one of the most hated countries in the globe, as many of our currenty leaders have told us. Rather, I believe what has given the United States such a negative reputation in the world is our fear and mistreatment of those who are different from us. Certainly there are the religious extremists who want to destroy us because of our corrrupt moral values, but perhaps the way that we tend to dehumanize people is part of this.

I believe that fear only has power over us when we allow it to. I don't believe that it takes an educated person to see that our current state of existence in this country is one of fear. We see it every day, from color-coded threat levels, to fear based news broadcasting, to mass e-mails circulated from our friends and family that tell us to be aware of "those crazy radical muslims" or whatever the case may be. We are living in a constant state of fear, fear of the unkown and fear of that which we don't understand. My wife and I were talking about this on the drive down here this morning. People everywhere are suffering from a generalized sense of anxiety because that is what is being proclaimed. The message that we hear everyday is this: there are imminent threats to this country, and our country's leadership may need to encroach on some people's civil liberties in order to deal with these threats. We are called to trust our leaders because in a time of threat such as this, unity is required. I have to be honest, I struggle with trusting our current leadership. I'm deathly afraid that we are not far off from the type of society that is envisioned in the movie "V for Vendetta", where we blindly submit to totalitarian leadership and sacrifice all civil liberties because we are afraid of an imminent threat. I do not want to be subject to a system of fear any longer. Jesus did not call me to a life of fear and blind subjection, he called me to a life of confidence in him where I constantly weigh everything against his word and Holy Spirit at work in my life.

Clearly, these are issues that have no easy answers, but I am not okay with the disrespect, mistrust, and fear that is constantly being exhibited to those who are "different". This is not the kingdom that Jesus preached, and I firmly believe that it is my responsibility as a follower of Jesus to fight this fear by living a life of love, understanding, and confidence. This life does not involve fear and blind submission to leadership, but confidence and constant evaluation of what leaders are telling us. This is my responsibility as both a citizen of this county and a follower of Jesus. I have a dream that one day soon we won't have to live in fear any longer and constantly be hearing messages such as "due to heigtened security". We're putting bandaids on a lethal wound.

But what do I know? I'm just a 24 year old white american male.

My Purpose

2006-08-17T17:12:00.000-07:00

I'm currently in the middle of applying to the teaching credential program at Sacramento State University and as part of the application I had to write a two-page statement of purpose. I was pretty happy with how it turned out, so I thought I'd share it here. I really feel like I've discovered my purpose in teaching, something that I am truly passionate about, which is really quite exciting. Anyway, here it is:

Having spent the last two years of my life in the field of social work, my life-long passion for social justice has become further refined and clarified. During this time, I have read thoughts by authors such as Paulo Freire and have come to the realization that one of the most powerful tools that exist in our society at present to fight for social justice is education. It is through education that a person’s imagination can be liberated to dream of possibilities beyond their present circumstances. It is through education that a person gains the necessary academic and life skills to make those dreams a reality. While I believe that some changes are necessary in our traditional understanding of the educational system, I firmly believe that education, when used properly, can give hope, power, and meaning and spur individuals to take ownership of their circumstances and be successful in life, regardless of their past and present challenges.
The traditional classroom generally seems to have an air of teacher as expert, students as blank slates who are receiving and learning from the knowledge that is being handed down from the teacher. In this format, students generally have no power. Students are rather expected to perform in a curriculum that is designed in circumstances often far different from their own. Students who do not perform in this model are labeled with painful words such as “troublesome”, “disrespectful”, and perhaps even “stupid” or “incompetent”. I believe that if students feel no control or power in the educational structure, the potential effectiveness of their education will be significantly reduced. In this regard, I very much appreciate Paulo Freire’s idea of “recreating knowledge” in the classroom (Pedagogy for Liberation, 1986), where the teacher is no longer the expert communicating knowledge to the student, but rather teacher and student are learning together. In this framework, students feel more power and ownership of the knowledge that is learned because it is knowledge that they help to create and communicate. For example, I recently taught a life skills class to a group of 14 youth, a significant portion of whom had grown up in the foster care system and been tossed around for the majority of their lives. I was teaching a lesson on respect, which not surprisingly was a big issue for most of these youth. The idea I was hoping to communicate was that we often want to be respected, but we refuse to show respect to others unless they first show it to us. By facilitating a discussion rather than simply lecturing on this idea, students in the class were able to come to their own conclusions based on experiences in their lives and the lessons they learned from this class were therefore far more meaningful than what would have resulted from a lecture.
Certainly not all students struggle in the traditional model of education. I, for example, performed well in school throughout my educational development. However, I also came from a very unique background in which education had been an important part of my family for several generations. I do not believe it is uncommon for many students in the public school system at present to be coming from households in which no one has pursued a college education, and perhaps not finished high school. For students in these circumstances, the traditional teacher as expert model will be ineffective, it will merely perpetuate the societal structure of the powerful and the oppressed, with an ever-widening gap.
I want to teach because I believe that education has the ability to liberate the minds and imaginations of young people to rise above their present circumstances. I want to teach because of the impact that several of my teachers had upon me. I want to help expose students to a world of knowledge in which anything is possible.

A Tribute to My Parents

2006-07-21T20:49:00.000-07:00

My parents recently moved from Redding, CA to Lewistown, MT. They moved there so that my dad could pastor a small church that was on the verge of having to essentially close its doors. This is not the first time my parents have done something like this, leaving comfort and everything they know to go to a place simply because they feel the Lord is calling them there. The picture above is of Jordana and I on a trip to the coast with my parents the weekend before they left. We loved having them live close to us, they were actually just right down the street from us. We used to walk there all the time for dinner, to do laundry, and to watch Lost. While we were excited for them to move on to this new opportunity, it was a lot harder for us than we expected when they left. And, we seemed to re-learn the age-old life lesson that you don't realize until it's too late how valuable some people and things are in your life. In that light, I felt it fitting to honor my parents with a little tribute, as they are two of the most important people in my life and really pretty incredible. They're the type of people I want to share about with the world and proudly declare, "these are my parents!"

The way my parents met is actually pretty amazing. See, my dad grew up between Maryland and Illinois and since he was a little kid, he loved everything that had to do with being a mountain man, his favorite movie has always been Jeremiah Johnson. He even used to run trap lines when he was a kid and sell furs for extra money. Another one of my favorite things about my dad's past is that he played football in high school for a team called the Freeport Pretzels, they had big pretzels on the side of their helmets. He was also a real prankster when he was a kid, another of my favorite stories was this time that my dad tied fishing line to a bunch of clothes in his sister's closet and started moving them around at night so she thought someone or something was in her closet. Kinda mean, I admit, but super funny nonetheless. Anyway, after high school my dad joined the Marine Corps and he's got some pretty crazy stories from that time in his life as well. I know quite a bit about my dad's past, but sometimes I wish I knew more. I understand some of it is real hard for him to talk about because it was before he had a relationship with Jesus and there's some stuff he's not proud of, but sometimes I can't shake the feeling that there's more stuff I'd like to know about him. After the Marines, my dad moved to Montana to go to school to become a teacher and live out his dreams to be a mountain man. Anyone who's ever met my dad could tell you that his heart is in Montana. If there's a place on earth where he belongs, it's there, but it's also clear that he knows his true home does not lie on this earth. Montana is also where my parents met.

My mom grew up on a farm in Iowa, she's one of five kids. She grew up in the same house that her mom was born and raised in, which I think is really neat because it's not something you hear everyday. Anyway, she was super involved in things like 4-H growing up and spent all her early mornings doing chores on the farm. I'd really like to know more stories about my mom's childhood, because I really only know a few. One of my favorites is of this one time that my mom was working in the corn crib (that's farm talk for a place where you store corn) and all these rats fell down on her head, which is actually quite terrifying if you think about it. Anyway, one time later on in her life my mom was asked about a traumatic experience in her life and that was all she could think of and people were kinda concerned she might need counseling. We still laugh about that sometimes. My mom was also elected this special honor one year, I think it was called Dairy Queen or something like that, not to be mistaken with the restaurant. Anyway, it's sort of like the homecoming queen or rodeo queen, and it was a really big deal where she grew up. I just found out about this a few years ago. I mean, I always thought my mom was pretty and would have been popular in high school, but just the idea that she won such a big award and recognition like that is so awesome. It made me proud of her when I heard the story. My mom went to college in Iowa, also planning to become a teacher. She did a year of her student teaching in Quito, Ecuador, which is just so neat. I wish I knew more stories from that year (if you're reading this mom, you can tell me more stories soon).

So, back to how my parents met, it's really pretty crazy. My dad was dating this girl from Iowa who just happened to be really good friends with my mom. My dad and this girl planned this big skiing trip in Montana and the girl invited my mom to come along. On this ski trip, my parents met and really hit it off. Like I've already said, my dad was a big-time mountain man, really loved the outdoors, and my mom was pretty much the same. But this girl my dad was dating, she was a big-time city girl. So anyway, after this ski trip my dad's girlfriend got together with my mom and told her that she thought my parents should get together since they were both outdoor people and she was a city person. So, that's how my parents met and got together. Pretty terrific really.

After they got married, my mom taught for a while and my dad worked a lot of different jobs, from ranch-hand to logging. I was born just a little before their 2nd anniversary. I remember going to work with my dad sometimes as a kid when he was logging, those were some of my favorite days. I'd get to ride in the Caterpillar with him and listen to guys yell "timber!" all day. I also went to school with my mom sometimes, maybe that's why I've always loved school and want to be a teacher, because I was around it all the time when I was little. When I was 6 and my brother was 3, we moved overseas where my parents both taught at a school for Missionary kids. That's when my dad decided to start going to seminary and become a pastor. My parents lives have always been characterized not by a concern for financial stability, wealth, or material possessions, but by a constant interest and desire to follow the call of God on their lives.

Jordana and I have been talking a lot about my parents lately. My mom is one of the most loving people I know. She is the best example of selfless and sacrificial love I've ever seen. She truly loves without expecting anything in return, it's a blessing and it's convicting. My dad is a man after God's own heart. His drive and motivating passion is truly and undeniably a love of people. He is a leader, a motivator, and the type of man that I would hope to become. Together, my parents make up a couple that was clearly brought together by divine providence and is being powerfully used by the Lord to change the hearts and lives of many people. I love my parents, I am proud of them, and they are an absolute inspiration to my wife and I and to many others. Here's to you mom and dad.

Fists of Steel pt.2

2006-07-16T21:02:00.000-07:00

I read a great book this weekend by Donald Miller called "Searching for God Knows What". It was really great, it's been on my list for a while. My wife read it last Christmas and said that it really changed her perspective in a lot of ways and has been telling me I need to read it ever since. So, I started it last week and got the chance to finish it while we were camping this weekend. I feel like the Lord has been tugging at my heart lately, trying to teach me about love. I guess that was sort of my intent behind my last post, the great neeed I've been feeling just to love people, to honor them, to value them as human beings. Anyway, one of the chapters in Donald Miller's book talked about morality, and as I read it, I felt like he was expressing in better ways than I was able many of the sentiments I've been feeling lately and a lot of what I was trying to say in my last post. So, I wanted to include an excerpt from the book because it's just too good not to share.

"I was a guest on a radio show recently that was broadcast on a secular station, one of those conservative shows that paints Democrats as terrorists. The interviewer asked what I thought about the homosexuals who were trying to take over the country. I confess I was taken aback. I hadn't realized that homosexuals were trying to take over the country. 'Which homosexuals are trying to take over the country?' I asked. 'You know, ' the interviewer began, 'the ones who want to take over Congress and the Senate.' I paused for a while. 'Well,' I said, 'I've never met those guys and I don't know who they are. The only homosexuals I've met are very kind people, some of whom have been beat up and spit on and harassed and, in fact, feel threatened by the religious right.' Think about it. If you watch CNN all day annd see extreme Muslims in the Middle East declaring war on America because they see us as immoral, and then you read the paper the next day to find the exact same words spoken by evangelical leaders against the culture here in America, you'd be pretty scared. I've never heard of a homosexual group trying to take over the world, or for that matter the House or the Senate, but I can point you to about fifty evangelical organizations who are trying to do exactly that. I don't know why. In my opinion, we should tell people about Jesus, not try to build some kind of temporary moral civilization here on earth. If you want that, move to Salt Lake City. 'And what is the name of this homosexual group that is trying to take over America?' I asked the host, somewhat angry at his ignorant misuse of war rhetoric. 'Well, I hear about them all the time,' he said, rather frustrated with me. 'If you hear about them all the time, what is the name of the organization?' 'Well, I don't know right now. But they are there.' 'Can I list for you ten or so christian organizations who are working to get more Christians in the House and the Senate?' I said to the host. 'Listen, I get your point,' he said. 'But I don't think you do. Here is my position: As a Christian, I believe Jesus wants to reach out to people who are lost and, yes, immoral--immoral just like you and I are immoral; and declaring war against them and stirring up your listeners to the point of anger and giving them the feeling that their country, their families, and their lifestyles are being threatened is only hurting what Jesus is trying to do. This isn't rocket science. If you declare war on somebody, you have to either handcuff them or kill them. That's the only way to win. But if you want them to be forgiven by Christ, if you want them to live eternally in heaven with Jesus, then you have to love them. The choice is yours and my suspicion is you will be held responsible by God, a Judge who will know your motives. So go ahead and declare war in the name of a conservative agenda, but don't do it in the name of God. That's what militant Muslims are doing in the Middle East, and we don't want that here.' Amazingly, the host kept me on and allowed me to tell as tory or two about interacting with supposed pagans in a compassionate exchange, and later even admitted that his idea that homosexuals were trying to take over the country had originated from an e-mail he had received, an e-mail he had long since thrown away but he thought perhaps had come from some kind of sexual organization. To be honest, I think most christians, and this guy was defnitely a Christian, want to love people and obey God but feel they have to wage a culture war. But this isn't the case at all. Remember, we are not elbowing for power in the lifeboat. God's kingdom isn't here on earth. And I believe you will find Jesus in the hearts of even the most miltant Christians, moving them to love people, and it is only their egos, and the voice of Satan, that cause them to demean the lost. What we must do in these instances is listen to our consciences, and allow Scripture to instruct us about morality and methodology, not just morality. Paul was deceived when he persecuted Christians, thinking he was doing it to serve God, but God went to him, blinded him, and corrected his thinking. After this, Paul loved the people he had previously hated; he began to take the message of forgiveness to Jews and to Gentiles, to male and to female, to pagans and prostitutes. At no point does he waste his time in lobbying government for a moral agenda. Nobody in Scripture who knew and followed Jesus wasted their time with any of this; they built the church, they loved people. Once Paul switched positions, many people tried to kill him for talking about Jesus, but he never lifted a fist; he never declared war. In fact, in Athens, he was so appreciated by pagans who worshipped false idols, they invited him to speak about Jesus in an open forum. In America, this no longer happens. We are in the margins of society and so we have to have our own radio stations and television stations and bookstores. Our fomulaic, propositional, lifeboat-territorial methodology has crippled the kingdom of God. We can learn a great deal from the apostles. Paul would go so far as to compliment the men of Athens, calling them "spiritual men" and quoting their poetry, then telling them the God he knew was better for them, larger, stronger and more alive than any of the stone idols they bowed down to. And many of the people in the audience followed Him and had more and more questions. This would not have happened if Paul had labeled them as pagans and attacked them. A moral message, a message of us versus them, overflowing in war rhetoric, never hindered the early message of grace, of repentace toward dead works and immorality in exchange for a love relationship with Christ. War rhetoric against people is not the methodology, not the sort of communication that came out of the mouth of Jesus or the mouths of any of His followers. In fact, even today, moralists who use war rhetoric will speak of right and wrong, and even some vague and angry god, but never Jesus. Listen closely, and I assure you, they will not talk about Jesus. In my opinion, if you hate somebody because they are different from you, you'd best get on your knees and repent until you can say you love them, until you have gotten your soul right with Christ. I can't say this clearly enough: If we are preaching morality without Christ, and using war rhetoric to communicate a battle mentality, we are fighting on Satan's side. This battle we are in is a battle against the principalities of darkness, not against people who are different from us. In war you shoot the enemy, not the hostage."

I think that last part is what gets me the most, because I feel like we've been shooting the hostage. It's almost as if because we can't see our real enemy, we have demonized what we can see so that we have a more tangible battle in which we can gauge whether or not we are winning. But this is a grievous error, because we are fighting the hostage, not the enemy. My prayer is that we can learn to love people, truly love people, to the point where we can echo the sentiments of Paul in expressing a willingness to suffer and even endure eternal torment ourselves just to see someone else experience salvation. That is true love. It is the true love exhibited to us by our Savior and it is the same love to which we are called. God help us, help me, to love this much.

Fists of steel

2006-07-07T15:55:00.000-07:00

I had a conversation with some friends the other night that stirred some serious emotions in me, brought me to the point of anger, took me down a notch to self-reflection, and left me with a lot of questions. We started out talking about this letter that I got from James Dobson. The letter was a disheartening attempt to scare me into voting against legislation that would require as part of public school curricculum recognition of the historical accomplishments of homosexuals. As I read the letter, processing statements such as "California's legislature is entirely controlled by radical homosexual liberals" and "this is part of an agenda to infiltrate and brainwash the minds of our children, much like the Hitler youth campaigns", I found myself not hating homosexuals like Dr. Dobson apparently intended, not seeing them as the "terrorists" and "infiltrators of our children's minds". Rather, I found myself thinking that it was Dobson who was the terrorist, it was Dobson who in his total insecurity and ignorance felt the need to use brainwashing phrases in a letter such as this to scare people into seeing things his way. I found myself grieving that these statements were being associated with the name of Jesus Christ, and I found myself losing any desire to ever be associated with a group of people that included individuals that wrote letters such as this.

But then, naturally, I had friends who challenged my perceptions. I had friends who reminded me that this is a free country and that citizens such as Dr. Dobson have the right to free speech, and have the right to speak out about what they believe. "But not in the name of my savior" I replied, how dare he give such a bad impression of christianity. But then I was gently reminded by my fellow conversants that I cannot change anyone except myself, no matter how unjust I believe someone's behavior to be. I adhere to my opinion that sending out letters such as this is something to be ashamed of and really doesn't accomplish anything, but getting all worked up about it won't accomplish anything. I have to fight it with love displayed in my own life.

Which brings me to my next question. All the time, including during the conversation a few nights ago, I hear people say that someone has to fight these battles, someone has to stand up for what they believe in. But are we really accomplishing anything by supporting or opposing legislation that affects things like gay marriage or diversity education? Let's say that we choose to fight this battle and we win, where will be? Sure, maybe we've protected our sacred idea of marriage and kept our kids from being "brainwashed" (or have we?), but what will we have really accomplished? We'll end up with a county that supports laws that reflect our moral standards, so maybe our country will "look real nice", but have we actually made any changes at all to the "real problems"? But oh, some may say, if we don't fight this battle, our country will continue in a downward spiral until morality no longer exists. I cannot refute that, and I'm not arguing that perhaps a battle needs to be fought, I merely question the way we fight it.

So, we've successfully passed on the legislation that we feel is important to mandate morality in this country and our fears of the "slippery slope" are relieved. But where are we really? Have people's hearts changed? No, and this is where the real problem lies. Change, as we have all experienced, cannot happen from the outside. When change is forced, it is unwelcome and ineffective. Is it better to fight from the top down and mandate morality? Or is it better to live in loving relationship with people, sharing the love of Christ, and bringing us all to the place where we want to live morally and cooperatively with one another because we have been transformed and believe in the ability of human beings to live in spiritual and physical harmony? I believe this is what Jesus, my savior, was all about. Name one time that Jesus spent his energy telling his disciples how evil homosexuals were, how they were something to be feared because they were on a campaign to brainwash children and destroy the fabric of society. The only people to whom Jesus was ever truly abrasive or disrespectful were the religious leaders of the time, because they were the ones practicing manipulation and leading people astray. It was the pharisees whom Jesus called a "brood of vipers", not homosexuals or drug-addicts or sex-addicts. Jesus lived in loving relationships with the hurting and the broken of our world. He showed love to those who did not purport to have it all figured out, those who entertained questions and felt okay with ambiguity. This is what I want to be. I want to be one who is okay with admitting that he doesn't always know what's right or wrong beyond knowing without a doubt that Jesus loves him and sacrificed His life for him. I want to be one who does not react to the world out of fear, but embraces the world through the light and love of Christ. I believe that the world can be transformed to the place where the government need not mandate morality, need not tell us how to live together in harmony, because we the people demand it of each other out of love and respect. We the people can learn to function together in love. I truly believe that where there is light, there is no darkness, and where there is love, there can be no hate. The best way to face our fears is to embrace them in love. For it is what we refuse to embrace, what we do not understand, that we find easy to fear, that we find so easy to hate.

Wanting to be known

2006-07-03T18:12:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been thinking that I want to be known. I mean, sure, I have people in my life that I feel very close to, people that know me. My wife knows me, I think she understands what makes me tick, she notices the little things that I like, things that drive me crazy, things that more or less define who I am. God knows me. I believe that my family knows me, my brother in particular. I have some friends that know me. But who am I really. Am I really the person that all of these people know, or am I someone else entirely? Where do expectations and preconceptions end and I begin? Maybe I'm just having a meloncholic day, but I suppose what I'm getting as is that I often don't feel that I really know myself. And maybe that's why I feel like people don't know me. Feeling like you are truly understood, like someone truly "gets" you, is like no other feeling in the world. And I do feel that from others, my wife, my brother, one or two close friends. But I'm not sure I really feel that from myself. There are fleeting moments when I feel very confident and happy with who I am, I get this picture in my head of the reasons why I like myself and I build up a desire and plan to capitalize on those strenghts. I get excited to hang out with a group of people so that I can practice being that person that I envision in my head. But then I leave our friend's house, I leave the party, I leave the church service, and I spend the night crying on my wife's shoulder because I am so far away from the person I want to be. I suppose everyone deals with this in one way or another, we all have the tendency to wish we were someone else. But it's not even so much that I want to be someone else, it's that I feel so much different from who I envision myself to be, and I often don't really know what that means. I guess that's partly why I decided to start this blog. I fought this for a long time, not liking the idea of placing my thoughts, placing myself, in this nebulous space for anyone to see. But my wife and my good buddy the Ghost both convinced me to go for it (thanks guys). If nothing else, I think this will be a good outlet, a chance for me to get some thoughts "published", a chance for me to get to know myself, and to maybe feel known by the few people who may happen to visit this site. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm taking a chance to see what comes. I don't want to adopt the mentality that I have anything brilliant to offer to anyone, but perhaps my questions, my ups and downs, my journey to know myself, will help someone else to feel a little more understood. And maybe I'll get the chance to know myself a little better. Maybe I'll get the chance to feel known.