Last weekend was the six-month anniversary of when my dad passed away. On the surface it seemed like any other day but there were a few events that made it a bit different.
I was up in Bradenton, Florida, just south of Tampa, with two co-workers. We were up there conducting research in a community known as Pride Park. I mentioned Pride Park in my first blog as an underserved community caught in a whirlwind of drugs, gang activity, violence, prostitution and theft. Our goal was to conduct a few focus groups and several informal interviews in order to get a comprehensive qualitative assessment of the community.
Once our research and analysis are finished (we are writing up the report now), we will provide churches in the community the information so they are able to more effectively ministry in the community. We spent Friday and Saturday going door to door, talking to residents, facilitating focus groups, and observing existing church involvement in the community. We were treated great by our hosts from Bayside Church and our road trip up and back to Bradenton was productive, fun, and a pleasure getting to know my co-workers better while rocking out to some sweet tunes. There were some interesting moments, like knocking on the doors of several crack houses and trying to interview the drug dealers or being invited into homes of complete strangers for a small meal or a chance to chat.
But what was more memorable for me was a time of reflection and verbal processing with my two co-workers on Friday—the six-month anniversary of my dad’s passing. The quick story of my dad’s diagnosis is: Two days after Christmas in 2009 my dad checked into the ER with several blood clots only to find out that it was an aggressive case of pancreatic cancer that was causing the clots. He chose not to do chemotherapy (as there is only a 4% survival rate past 5 yrs of the diagnosis for those who treat pancreatic cancer with chemo) and went on an alternative medicine/detox/diet regiment. On October 1st 2010, he passed away in bed in his house in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, propped up so he could look out over the ocean.
I would like to highlight a few things that were really beautiful even in the midst of such grief, pain and suffering. There are so many overlapping parts that I don’t really know where to begin. I will try to explain the key parts that really stick out to me, though they are not in any order.
I would first like to say at the outset that my dad was an incredible man. His friends and colleagues described him as a pressman, an entrepreneur, a visionary, an industry leader, and a mentor. He has an incredible story of one who took the limited fortune he’d been given in the beginning of his life and turned it into something great. He went from barely graduating high school to becoming a successful businessman. In the late 1980s he started a printing company called “Webtrend Graphics”, which quickly grew into the largest commercial printing company in San Diego, and then continued his career as a pillar in the printing, marketing, and direct mail industry.
Aside from his worldly success, his last 8 months were of a completely different success. For the first time in his life, he was able to really experience joy and emotion in a way that he never had before. During the last few months of his life my dad was very emotional, both overwhelmed in intense moments of joy as well as moments of grief and frustration. I knew that God was doing a work in him. The other day I had a big “ah ha” moment when I heard this passage in Scripture I was unaware of: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh” Ezekiel 36:26. It was like a ton of bricks. God’s transforming work in my dad’s life during his last few months on earth manifested itself in a new heart. It wasn’t so much that my dad had a heart of stone before, but his new heart (and spirit) was a night and day difference from his old one. It was such a beautiful thing even in the midst of such pain, suffering and death.
There are certain people in our lives who influence us greatly, either for our betterment or our detriment. I know that for my dad’s life, namely the last 8 months of his life, there were a few individuals who profoundly shaped his life. Steve and Kim Schuette were two of them. The Schuettes have been family friends as I grew up with their daughter Jenna and we went to South Africa together in high school. Kim Schuette is a nutritionist and one of the most incredible ladies I’ve ever met. She worked with my dad’s health, thinking of creative ways to rid the cancer from his body with an all-natural approach. Our bodies are such complex entities and Kim really helped us understand the dynamics of what was going on.
Yet more than helping with my dad’s health issues, both Kim and Steve Schuette opened up their home and their lives as a refuge of peace for my dad. Whenever my dad went over to their house or was in their presence, the weight and pain of the world and its circumstances were lifted. Kim and Steve embodied the spirit of God, in which faith, grace, service and love naturally overflowed an touched my dad. It was in this time that he got and authentic picture of his Lord and Savior because Kim and Steve were the hands and feet of Jesus. In my dad’s own words, it was the time in his life when he felt the most unconditional love.
Upon reflection, I realized something so fascinating about this whole situation. When I was in high school, I was involved in YoungLife with Randy Guista. Randy become a role model in my life and is responsible for a large part of my spiritual formation. We spent time together at weekly bible studies and also on a few memorable bike trips, including on ride from San Francisco to San Diego down the Pacific Coast Highway.
Several years before I was born, Kim met Randy Guista in San Diego and she asked him to pray for a man named Steve Schuette, whom she wanted to marry but wasn’t following Christ at the time. Randy prayed and took Steve under his wing. Long story short, Kim and Steve got married and Randy officiated the wedding. Years later, I come along. I meet Jenna Schuette (Kim and Steve’s daughter) and was mentored by Randy. See the circles over-lapping.
Randy was instrumental in the marriage of two Godly people, Steve and Kim, who then were instrumental in affecting the destiny of my dad. I hadn’t put all of the pieces of the puzzle together yet, but I asked Randy to do my dad’s memorial service because my dad had a deep respect for Randy, and Randy likewise with my dad. Randy agreed to, saying it was an honor. It turned out to be the most beautiful memorial services for my dad I could have ever imagined.
There is beauty, even in the midst of pain, suffering and death. There is also fruit that may not come directly from our ministry or actions, but can be traced back to us. Of course, the focus isn’t on us—it is on God and His grace to allow us to be stewards in preaching the Gospel and reflecting the source of the grace and love first given to us.
At the end of the day, it is God who deserves to be praised and recognized for the work of transformation in the hearts of people, whether it’s my dad or anyone else. But at the same time, God uses specific people to get the job done. There are few people who changed the course of eternity for my dad. There are others who changed the course of history, and eternity, for people, nations, societies, cultures and the like. Individuals such as William J. Seymour, Charles Spurgeon, Jonathan Edwards and Martin Luther King Jr. are responsible (to some degree) for the positive changes, movements and revivals that they catalyzed. Of course there are also the Stalins, Hitlers, evil dictators and hate pastors (think Qur’an burning) who were catalysts for harm, death and destruction.
My point? By God’s grace, we all have the power to be a catalyst of some sort. We may or may not live to see the fruit of our obedience and faithfulness but that does not matter. Just as you can think back to the people in your life who influenced and impacted you in profound and formative ways, you too have the power and ability to reciprocate that for the people in your life. Do not underestimate what one small act of grace, love, or encouragement can do for one person, or an entire generation.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Beauty
Originally I had hoped to write several other blog entries in the time since my last entry but I just didn’t around get to it. This is my attempt to write more frequently and succinctly. Frequently for a few reasons: primarily because I want to develop a discipline of consistent writing and secondly because the point of a blog is to add to it on a regular basis. Succinctly because it is an art to articulate concisely and also because it is easier to remember and usually more effectual.
John Piper (renowned biblical scholar, theologian, pastor) says that “Books don’t change people, sentences change people.” Think about it. You probably didn’t catch everything from the last 200-page book you read, or the last 40 minute sermon you heard on Sunday, but you probably remember a handful of Tweets (always under 140 characters) that impacted in you or a quote from a movie that is imbedded in your persona. It is no wonder the Ancient Greeks put such an emphasis on the discipline of oratory, “giving a sea of matter in a drop of language” and changed the way we embrace (or exclude) the ethos, pathos and logos in speech, writing and language. In an attempt (strong emphasis on attempt) to embrace the artistry of the Ancient Greeks I must write frequently and consistently (though these latter terms are somewhat relative, so don’t hold me to your standards of “frequent” and “consistent”!).
The other day I read something that really stuck out to me. It was a sentence in Tim Keller’s latest book Generous Justice: How God’s Grace Makes Us Just. He says, “In the presence of beauty you cease to be the hero in your own story” (p. 182) which echoed something I read a few years ago from N.T. Wright’s Simply Christian, namely that beauty is a glimpse into something bigger. In other words, “[Beauty] is another echo of a voice—a voice which might be saying one of several different things, but which, were we to hear it in all its fullness, would make sense of what we presently see and hear and know and love and call ‘beautiful’” (p. 40). Continuing on this notion, John Milton in Paradise Lost says, “What if Earth/Be but the shadow of Heav’n, and things therein/Each to other like, more then on Earth is thought?” We get the image that Earth—and all its beauty—is but a shadow of Heaven.
Beauty is a unique concept. We take for granted that it’s something universal—like truth—but really it’s not. What is beautiful to one person, or to one culture, may be ugly, or less beautiful, to another. Yet regardless of one’s perspective on what they hold to be beautiful, two things remain constant: beauty takes the focus off of ourselves (1) and it points to something bigger and greater (2).
Take the following examples of beauty (notice how each takes the focus off of myself and points to something bigger and greater):
Sunsets: If I could argue for a universal example of beauty, a colorful sunset would be it. It is the picture that comes to mind when most people think of the word “beautiful.” I once heard someone describe a sunset as “God’s last artistic stroke of the day.” Seems fitting.
Today at Church: There were three things at church today that gripped my attention as beautiful.
-First was the building itself. Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church in Ft. Lauderdale Florida is one of the most beautiful, modern sanctuaries I’ve ever been in. The stained glass, tall ceilings, and enormous organ are nothing short of impressive. Upon walking in, you get lost in its grandeur and cannot help but wonder about the craftsmen, architects, designers and masterminds who built the sanctuary in the 1950s and their ability and potential to join together to create other impressive works.
-Second was one of the worship songs, though the concept can be applied to most songs and music in general. In all aspects, the whole song and the experience of the music was more beautiful than the sum of its parts. What do I mean? On the micro level, the chord progression throughout the song was more beautiful than if the worship leader would have just played a single chord. And the chord itself was also much more beautiful than the sum of the individual notes played. On a broader level, if the worship leader would have played the guitar and sang on stage it would have sounded good and beautiful. But once the bass, electric guitar, piano, violin, drums, organ, choir and harmony parts were added, the finish product was more beautiful than the sum of its parts. Each part within the song, whether human or inanimate, pointed to something bigger and greater than itself, and anyone in the sanctuary during the song was overwhelmed by a rushing tide of beauty.
-Third was a beautiful picture I got of two friends of mine—a young married couple committed to loving individuals in an under-served community called Avondale. Sitting in the pews in front of me were John and Kimberly and 8 African American children from Avondale all dressed in grungy clothing (at least compared to the rest of the church). This indelible moment pointed to something more beautiful than even they could be responsible for. It pointed to a love and a grace that is found in the Gospel; that because God lavished his grace for us, our only response is to show that same grace and love to our hurting neighbors. It was a beautiful picture of persistent, unconditional love, racial reconciliation and humility.
Let’s just say that I got lost at church today… today I ceased to become the hero of my own story because I was captivated by beauty. Life is not about me (or us for that matter) and in the presence of beauty I am re-oriented toward the unseen, the eternal (2 Corinthians 4:18). There are countless examples of beauty that I wanted to share, but I am honestly trying to make this brief.
I will end by sharing one last list of examples of beauty that I love because in each one I remember dropping my jaw in complete awe. Furthermore, each one is a reflection, or an echo, of a certain person, culture, time period, or externality so much greater and more complex than the object itself. Below are the ones that I can associate with because I have been there or seen in person, yet there are millions of other examples that you can add to this list. Consider the following:
Aya Sofia & Blue Mosque in Istanbul
Vatican and Colosseum in Rome
Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca
Bean in Chicago (and the skyline for that matter)
Alhambra in Granada
Zocalo in Mexico City
Neuschwanstein in Germany
La Mezquita in Cordoba
Versailles in Paris
Skyline of Hong Kong (especially at night)
Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco
La Giralda in Sevilla
Corcovado in Rio de Janiero
The new iPad 2 (oh wait, just kidding http://exfontibus.wordpress.com/2011/03/06/easy-virtues/ )
Why spend this much time talking about beauty? There are a few things in the world that take the attention off ourselves. In an age when consumerism wins, when marketing tells us that we’re not complete until we have the next best product, service, or technology, when our busy calendars control our days, and when nearly everything from food to finances are manufactured to suit our “needs”, it’s easy to forget that we are not the heroes of our own stories. It is easy to forget that God is not just in the big things like miracles and movements, but that he is also in the small things like bouquets and bougainvillea. As our hearts and our lives are postured toward the beauty in this world, we loose sight of ourselves and begin to see a creation that reflects the beauty of God.
John Piper (renowned biblical scholar, theologian, pastor) says that “Books don’t change people, sentences change people.” Think about it. You probably didn’t catch everything from the last 200-page book you read, or the last 40 minute sermon you heard on Sunday, but you probably remember a handful of Tweets (always under 140 characters) that impacted in you or a quote from a movie that is imbedded in your persona. It is no wonder the Ancient Greeks put such an emphasis on the discipline of oratory, “giving a sea of matter in a drop of language” and changed the way we embrace (or exclude) the ethos, pathos and logos in speech, writing and language. In an attempt (strong emphasis on attempt) to embrace the artistry of the Ancient Greeks I must write frequently and consistently (though these latter terms are somewhat relative, so don’t hold me to your standards of “frequent” and “consistent”!).
The other day I read something that really stuck out to me. It was a sentence in Tim Keller’s latest book Generous Justice: How God’s Grace Makes Us Just. He says, “In the presence of beauty you cease to be the hero in your own story” (p. 182) which echoed something I read a few years ago from N.T. Wright’s Simply Christian, namely that beauty is a glimpse into something bigger. In other words, “[Beauty] is another echo of a voice—a voice which might be saying one of several different things, but which, were we to hear it in all its fullness, would make sense of what we presently see and hear and know and love and call ‘beautiful’” (p. 40). Continuing on this notion, John Milton in Paradise Lost says, “What if Earth/Be but the shadow of Heav’n, and things therein/Each to other like, more then on Earth is thought?” We get the image that Earth—and all its beauty—is but a shadow of Heaven.
Beauty is a unique concept. We take for granted that it’s something universal—like truth—but really it’s not. What is beautiful to one person, or to one culture, may be ugly, or less beautiful, to another. Yet regardless of one’s perspective on what they hold to be beautiful, two things remain constant: beauty takes the focus off of ourselves (1) and it points to something bigger and greater (2).
Take the following examples of beauty (notice how each takes the focus off of myself and points to something bigger and greater):
Sunsets: If I could argue for a universal example of beauty, a colorful sunset would be it. It is the picture that comes to mind when most people think of the word “beautiful.” I once heard someone describe a sunset as “God’s last artistic stroke of the day.” Seems fitting.
Today at Church: There were three things at church today that gripped my attention as beautiful.
-First was the building itself. Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church in Ft. Lauderdale Florida is one of the most beautiful, modern sanctuaries I’ve ever been in. The stained glass, tall ceilings, and enormous organ are nothing short of impressive. Upon walking in, you get lost in its grandeur and cannot help but wonder about the craftsmen, architects, designers and masterminds who built the sanctuary in the 1950s and their ability and potential to join together to create other impressive works.
-Second was one of the worship songs, though the concept can be applied to most songs and music in general. In all aspects, the whole song and the experience of the music was more beautiful than the sum of its parts. What do I mean? On the micro level, the chord progression throughout the song was more beautiful than if the worship leader would have just played a single chord. And the chord itself was also much more beautiful than the sum of the individual notes played. On a broader level, if the worship leader would have played the guitar and sang on stage it would have sounded good and beautiful. But once the bass, electric guitar, piano, violin, drums, organ, choir and harmony parts were added, the finish product was more beautiful than the sum of its parts. Each part within the song, whether human or inanimate, pointed to something bigger and greater than itself, and anyone in the sanctuary during the song was overwhelmed by a rushing tide of beauty.
-Third was a beautiful picture I got of two friends of mine—a young married couple committed to loving individuals in an under-served community called Avondale. Sitting in the pews in front of me were John and Kimberly and 8 African American children from Avondale all dressed in grungy clothing (at least compared to the rest of the church). This indelible moment pointed to something more beautiful than even they could be responsible for. It pointed to a love and a grace that is found in the Gospel; that because God lavished his grace for us, our only response is to show that same grace and love to our hurting neighbors. It was a beautiful picture of persistent, unconditional love, racial reconciliation and humility.
Let’s just say that I got lost at church today… today I ceased to become the hero of my own story because I was captivated by beauty. Life is not about me (or us for that matter) and in the presence of beauty I am re-oriented toward the unseen, the eternal (2 Corinthians 4:18). There are countless examples of beauty that I wanted to share, but I am honestly trying to make this brief.
I will end by sharing one last list of examples of beauty that I love because in each one I remember dropping my jaw in complete awe. Furthermore, each one is a reflection, or an echo, of a certain person, culture, time period, or externality so much greater and more complex than the object itself. Below are the ones that I can associate with because I have been there or seen in person, yet there are millions of other examples that you can add to this list. Consider the following:
Aya Sofia & Blue Mosque in Istanbul
Vatican and Colosseum in Rome
Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca
Bean in Chicago (and the skyline for that matter)
Alhambra in Granada
Zocalo in Mexico City
Neuschwanstein in Germany
La Mezquita in Cordoba
Versailles in Paris
Skyline of Hong Kong (especially at night)
Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco
La Giralda in Sevilla
Corcovado in Rio de Janiero
The new iPad 2 (oh wait, just kidding http://exfontibus.wordpress.com/2011/03/06/easy-virtues/ )
Why spend this much time talking about beauty? There are a few things in the world that take the attention off ourselves. In an age when consumerism wins, when marketing tells us that we’re not complete until we have the next best product, service, or technology, when our busy calendars control our days, and when nearly everything from food to finances are manufactured to suit our “needs”, it’s easy to forget that we are not the heroes of our own stories. It is easy to forget that God is not just in the big things like miracles and movements, but that he is also in the small things like bouquets and bougainvillea. As our hearts and our lives are postured toward the beauty in this world, we loose sight of ourselves and begin to see a creation that reflects the beauty of God.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
A New Chapter, A New Book
Written on February 9, 2011
For some reason I feel a calling—an urge—to write. I’m no Pentecostal, but there’s this inexplicable tug on my heart to be doing this. I feel it so strongly that I don't exactly know what to do or what to write and I know that if I don't, I will be doing a disservice to myself, to God, or to others who will read this and be blessed, encouraged, or inspired in some way. I don't necessarily see myself as a writer (or assume that my words will be inspiring) and I find the task of writing very difficult. In high school I couldn't even write a two-page essay in my English classes despite the fact that I was in honors and AP (Advanced Placement). I even failed the AP English test twice. It seems appropriate here to mention that neither was I a reader and I still find reading (specifically reading comprehension) difficult. I can’t think of a single book that I read in jr. high or high school (thanks to Spark Notes) and I look back upon these years with deep regret. I missed out on much of my formative years of developing reading and writing skills that could have helped me in college and in the future.
I didn't have a good track record with writing but something changed after I graduated high school. During my 8-month journey throughout Africa and South America I wrote quite extensively and began reading as well. I spent hours upon hours writing "email updates" reporting on my seemingly exotic adventures in foreign lands, unimaginable to the audience I was writing to in suburban Southern California and overall I received positive feedback. In college I also had a difficult time writing and finding substance to write on. It wasn't really until my junior and senior years that I found writing to be more enjoyable. During these years I also found myself consumed in books and academic material on a host of topics—from anthropology to sociology, history to spirituality. I was able to write on topics that interest me, that get me fired up, that seem important to me and important in the current state of the world. Writing, for example, on the church as an alternative community to the status quo of today's ethnocentric, overly individualist and consumerist society, or on the global rise of Islam and the global Church's (non-violent) response to this inevitable phenomenon, or on St. Francis of Assisi's example as a devoted follower of Christ—in a society becoming increasingly secular, wealth-driven, and tangled in a war waged against Christendom (the West) and Islam (the East)—as he took on a life of poverty and set up camp in foreign lands to minister and serve those considered by his contemporaries as "The Enemy"; these were moments when I was able to find the passion and motivation to research and express my thoughts and ideas on paper. To finish my studies at Azusa Pacific University, I lived and studied in Morocco for approximately 7 months in 2009. While in Morocco I wrote considerably for both school and leisure. I started a blog (http://ryaninmorocco.blogspot.com), which served as a platform to articulate my experiences and share specific anecdotes with people who may never get to experience life in Morocco or in another Muslim context. I thoroughly enjoyed this style of writing and often found myself awake during the late hours of the night, or early hours in the morning "word-smithing" and reviewing some of my writing and blog posts. On several occasions I recall being completely absorbed in my writing that I lost track of time, only to be abruptly reminded by the sound of “Allahu Akbar” at the Fajr (the first of five daily prayers in Islam, taking place before sunrise) that it was almost the beginning of a new day. Needless to say, my experience with writing and conveying my experiences was a unique and refreshing time in which my skills started to develop and my passion for writing grew. I don't know if this writing now will parallel the style of my anecdotal writing while in Morocco—only God knows. I know nothing more than this unexplainable urge to write.
As I read this evening in John Hayes' book titled Sub-Merge: Living Deep in a Shallow World: Service, Justice and Contemplation Among the World's Poor, God is more concerned about the process than the product, especially in ministry. He is also more concerned about our obedience than with our performance, though the world says otherwise (Hayes 2005). That's why God created the world in 6 days (or months or years or stages or millennia). If he were only concerned about the product, he would have snapped his fingers or spoken "Let there be!" and it would have happened. But he cares about the process. In ministry, sometimes we care so much about the product or final result (the total number of people impacted or the amount of needs addressed) that we forget about the process in which God has us. Often we are blinded by the reality that He is along side of us every step of the way. Accordingly, I have no idea what the "product" of this writing will be (a blog, a note on facebook, an email, an article, a book, etc.) but I know that I need to be obedient and God will guide me.
“Change is the only constant” is a truism that accurately describes my life. Just when I start to get into a routine or get settled in a particular location, everything seems to flip upside down. The last few years, specifically, have been years of unprecedented change and uncertainty. I spend 3 of my 8 semesters in college “off campus” and always stayed on the move. More recently, all within the past 12 or 14 months, I found out that my dad had terminal cancer, I graduated from college, I moved across country (and into one of the most violent communities in the US), I lost my dad after his 9-month battle with the disease, I got a job and started a "career path", I broke up with my girlfriend of over 2 years (she broke up with me, but we both recognize that it was the right thing to do, just not the easiest thing to do), and I have been given more responsibility than I ever dreamed of at age 24. Many times throughout the past year, I have come to the end of my rope, which I guess is a good place to be if you're a follower of Jesus. The first Beatitude in the Gospel of Matthew (5:3) is Jesus' benediction to those who are "poor in spirit". The Greek is closer translated to “blessed are those who are at the end of their rope" or “…those who depend only on Him". Jesus’ promise is that the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such people. It has been God, and God alone, who has been with me every step of the way. He is truly Emmanuel, God with us. And as I have been learning from my Calvinist brothers and sisters at Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church in Ft. Lauderdale, namely Pastor Tullian Tchividjian, God—in his complete sovereignty—orchestrates everything (past, present, and future) for our good and for His glory. This doesn't always mean easy (and rarely does), but it does mean good. Nothing happens in my life that is outside of God's control and that is not ultimately for my benefit (thanks Micah for your insight here). Therefore He alone deserves to be praised and it is in Him that I find refuge. As a Scottish theologian once said, "the ‘Sovereignty of God’ is the doctrine in which the weary saint rests his head at night". A "Big God Theology" (as some might call it) is comforting, even in the midst of a perceived living hell. Even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil, for He is with us (Psalm 23:4). He both precedes and follows me. He places his hand of blessing on my head…I can never escape from His spirit; I can never get away from His presence (Psalm 139:5&7). And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for Him (Romans 8:28). Such promises in Scripture are so comforting and freeing. When we surrender our lives and our future to our creator, the sovereign Lord, we experience true freedom and comfort.
My job at OneHope has provided tremendous opportunities for growth—spiritually, emotionally, academically and vocationally. I mentioned above that I now live in one of the most violent communities in the US; a community in Pompano Beach, Florida, known as Avondale. Though my work did not require me to live in Avondale, I decided to move here as I felt God calling me to a life of incarnational ministry, especially because I would be involved with Avondale quite intimately because of OneHope's involvement here. When I speak of "incarnational ministry" I am speaking of a ministry, or mission, that envisions becoming like the people we are praying to reach, or serve (Hayes 2005, p.16). Pastor, writer, missionary, theologian, and learner Henri Nouwen described this ideal type of ministry during the several months he lived in the slums outside of Lima, Peru; ministry is simply “living with the people, as the people" (Nouwen, 1999 p. 101). In Scripture, the idea of incarnational ministry is scattered throughout the Old and New Testament. Middle Eastern scholar and theologian, Dr. Nabeel Jabbour, argues that during the 400 years of slavery in Egypt, there are no more than a few verses recorded in the Bible between Genesis 50 and Exodus 1 because the Israelites became ethnocentric and turned away from the charge to be a blessing to the entire world—the very words spoken to their patriarch Abraham in Genesis 12 (Jabbour 2008, p. 127-136). The Israelites were to be a blessing to the world because God had blessed them first. They were to be an outward-focused community, yet we have no account of God working in or through His people during those 400 years because the Israelites became inward-focused and lost sight of their purpose to bless the world around them, even in the midst of oppression. In contrast, the 70 years of Exile in Babylon is covered quite extensively in the Old Testament. God’s people were commanded to reflect the goodness, grace, and mercy of God during this time, even amongst their oppressors. It was while they were in Exile that they were commanded to “seek the peace and prosperity” of Babylon (the city of their enemies) and “build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce” (Jeremiah 29:5&7). The period of 400 years between Genesis 50 and Exodus 1 in which God did not speak (that we know of) because His people did not live among the foreign nations of the world to bless them is quite opposite from the 70 years when they were in Exile. Its seems that even in the Old Testament, God was showing us that He is most alive when His people are focused on blessing the community they are living in, even in the midst of oppression and poverty.
In the New Testament, John 1:14 says that "the Word became flesh and dwelt among us..." referring to Jesus as "the Word". The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians writes, "To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like the one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings" (I Corinthians 9:20-23). Incarnational ministry (specifically among the poor) is nothing new, though it is not all too common among Protestant circles. It has been modeled by spiritual heroes throughout history, from the Apostle Paul to St. Francis of Assisi to Mother Teresa to Henri Nouwen to Dorothy Day. I knew that God was calling me to live in Avondale, with (or among) the people of Avondale, as the people of Avondale, as parallel to Nouwen’s model of incarnational living (“living with… as…”). Although my job is of a different level than most people's jobs in Avondale and therefore my clothes are often a bit nicer, I am intentionally trying to live in a way that is closely resembled by others in the community. This approach to ministry does not produce quick results or products, but is demanding and yet rewarding during the journey. It is what Jesus did on earth ("the Word became flesh and dwelt among us") and it is what the church ought to be doing; not just within the comfort of suburban America, but among the outcast and the disenfranchised as well. After all, slum populations are growing faster around the globe than any other demographic sector (Lu Krieg 2004, p. 1-2) and are therefore one of biggest mission fields of the global Church.
There are sobering moments when living among the materially poor. Many evenings I come home from work tired and wanting to relax after the 8-hour workday. I begin to think how important it is that I rest, eat well, and get enough personal time so that I can go back to work the next day rejuvenated. My perfect, comfortable 9-5 work schedule becomes a point of contention when I see my next door neighbor, Jose (pseudonym), leave his apartment every night at 10pm. At 10 o'clock, the work “day” has just begun for Jose. Throughout his 7-day workweek, Jose spends approximately 75 hours cleaning restaurants from 10pm to 9am. When he arrives back at home after work, his two young boys are awake and demanding his time and attention. I don't know when Jose sleeps but I do know how quick I am to complain when I don't get an "adequate" night's sleep. Unfortunately, Jose's story is not that uncommon. One evening he tells me the story of how he spent several days and nights with his wife and children in the middle of the desert in Northern Mexico, crossing illegally into Texas. He moved to Florida 10 years ago from his hometown in Chiapas (southern province in Mexico) to escape the violence and social oppression for a better life. Since then, he’s been working restaurant jobs to earn enough income to support his family and their humble lifestyle. Currently he works every night "except for Christmas, Christmas Eve, Thanksgiving, New Years and 4th of July" he tells me. It is a sobering reminder that while I have the privilege of having the weekends off, Jose is working 7 days (nights) a week. Even more sobering, is that while I take for granted and enjoy eating nice meals out in restaurants, Jose and many others with similar stories are the ones cleaning those very restaurants at night. And it's not just the restaurant; it's the hotel that I stay at with the over-worked and under-paid housekeeping staff, or the building where I attend a conference with similar low-wage janitors and maintenance workers. These people are largely unnoticed in our society and are essentially invisible. These people are my neighbors in Avondale.
Today I had another experience that really shook me to my core. As I have been spending the past few days in Bradenton, Florida, with the outreach director of Bayside Community Church, I have spent some time surveying the specific community that Bayside is involved in ministering to. The community known as Pride Park is the poorest neighborhood in Bradenton, home to a mix of Hispanics and blacks. While driving around and talking with some of the members of the community, we stopped at a house that some members of the church have a relationship with. We knocked and waited for about 90 seconds. After no answer, we got back in the car and were about to pull away when the mother opened the door. I got back out of the car and greeted her in Spanish, but she quickly backed away from the door and called her son to come out and speak with me. Hector, as I will call him, was a quiet 17-year old. He was very reserved and hesitated to make eye contact with either the director or myself. I asked Hector several questions about the neighborhood and his experience living there. His answers were brief and he seemed to be a hard egg to crack. I later found out from the director that several months ago, INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service) came to Hector's house and aggressively arrested Hector's father to be detained, leaving behind his wife and children (Hector’s brothers and sisters). From my understanding, the event was quite traumatizing and has had devastating impacts on the entire family. The house is now disillusioned by fear and hostility. The reality of the fear that grips Hector's family on a daily basis is something that I will probably never experience and once again (unfortunately), Hector's family’s situation is not all that uncommon in certain communities throughout the US and the rest of the world. Such experiences and situations demand a deeply-rooted relationship in a living God, the one who directs our steps and leads us on the path of righteousness. He is the one true God—creator of the universe—known in the person and life of Jesus Christ. He is full of wisdom and goodness and is searching the world to give wisdom and discernment to those who remain close to Him and His way. Ministering to a family such as Hector's or Jose's—or any other family in a community like Avondale—as a privileged white guy from the suburbs, is humanly impossible, yet Jesus makes it possible.
For some reason I feel a calling—an urge—to write. I’m no Pentecostal, but there’s this inexplicable tug on my heart to be doing this. I feel it so strongly that I don't exactly know what to do or what to write and I know that if I don't, I will be doing a disservice to myself, to God, or to others who will read this and be blessed, encouraged, or inspired in some way. I don't necessarily see myself as a writer (or assume that my words will be inspiring) and I find the task of writing very difficult. In high school I couldn't even write a two-page essay in my English classes despite the fact that I was in honors and AP (Advanced Placement). I even failed the AP English test twice. It seems appropriate here to mention that neither was I a reader and I still find reading (specifically reading comprehension) difficult. I can’t think of a single book that I read in jr. high or high school (thanks to Spark Notes) and I look back upon these years with deep regret. I missed out on much of my formative years of developing reading and writing skills that could have helped me in college and in the future.
I didn't have a good track record with writing but something changed after I graduated high school. During my 8-month journey throughout Africa and South America I wrote quite extensively and began reading as well. I spent hours upon hours writing "email updates" reporting on my seemingly exotic adventures in foreign lands, unimaginable to the audience I was writing to in suburban Southern California and overall I received positive feedback. In college I also had a difficult time writing and finding substance to write on. It wasn't really until my junior and senior years that I found writing to be more enjoyable. During these years I also found myself consumed in books and academic material on a host of topics—from anthropology to sociology, history to spirituality. I was able to write on topics that interest me, that get me fired up, that seem important to me and important in the current state of the world. Writing, for example, on the church as an alternative community to the status quo of today's ethnocentric, overly individualist and consumerist society, or on the global rise of Islam and the global Church's (non-violent) response to this inevitable phenomenon, or on St. Francis of Assisi's example as a devoted follower of Christ—in a society becoming increasingly secular, wealth-driven, and tangled in a war waged against Christendom (the West) and Islam (the East)—as he took on a life of poverty and set up camp in foreign lands to minister and serve those considered by his contemporaries as "The Enemy"; these were moments when I was able to find the passion and motivation to research and express my thoughts and ideas on paper. To finish my studies at Azusa Pacific University, I lived and studied in Morocco for approximately 7 months in 2009. While in Morocco I wrote considerably for both school and leisure. I started a blog (http://ryaninmorocco.blogspot.com), which served as a platform to articulate my experiences and share specific anecdotes with people who may never get to experience life in Morocco or in another Muslim context. I thoroughly enjoyed this style of writing and often found myself awake during the late hours of the night, or early hours in the morning "word-smithing" and reviewing some of my writing and blog posts. On several occasions I recall being completely absorbed in my writing that I lost track of time, only to be abruptly reminded by the sound of “Allahu Akbar” at the Fajr (the first of five daily prayers in Islam, taking place before sunrise) that it was almost the beginning of a new day. Needless to say, my experience with writing and conveying my experiences was a unique and refreshing time in which my skills started to develop and my passion for writing grew. I don't know if this writing now will parallel the style of my anecdotal writing while in Morocco—only God knows. I know nothing more than this unexplainable urge to write.
As I read this evening in John Hayes' book titled Sub-Merge: Living Deep in a Shallow World: Service, Justice and Contemplation Among the World's Poor, God is more concerned about the process than the product, especially in ministry. He is also more concerned about our obedience than with our performance, though the world says otherwise (Hayes 2005). That's why God created the world in 6 days (or months or years or stages or millennia). If he were only concerned about the product, he would have snapped his fingers or spoken "Let there be!" and it would have happened. But he cares about the process. In ministry, sometimes we care so much about the product or final result (the total number of people impacted or the amount of needs addressed) that we forget about the process in which God has us. Often we are blinded by the reality that He is along side of us every step of the way. Accordingly, I have no idea what the "product" of this writing will be (a blog, a note on facebook, an email, an article, a book, etc.) but I know that I need to be obedient and God will guide me.
“Change is the only constant” is a truism that accurately describes my life. Just when I start to get into a routine or get settled in a particular location, everything seems to flip upside down. The last few years, specifically, have been years of unprecedented change and uncertainty. I spend 3 of my 8 semesters in college “off campus” and always stayed on the move. More recently, all within the past 12 or 14 months, I found out that my dad had terminal cancer, I graduated from college, I moved across country (and into one of the most violent communities in the US), I lost my dad after his 9-month battle with the disease, I got a job and started a "career path", I broke up with my girlfriend of over 2 years (she broke up with me, but we both recognize that it was the right thing to do, just not the easiest thing to do), and I have been given more responsibility than I ever dreamed of at age 24. Many times throughout the past year, I have come to the end of my rope, which I guess is a good place to be if you're a follower of Jesus. The first Beatitude in the Gospel of Matthew (5:3) is Jesus' benediction to those who are "poor in spirit". The Greek is closer translated to “blessed are those who are at the end of their rope" or “…those who depend only on Him". Jesus’ promise is that the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such people. It has been God, and God alone, who has been with me every step of the way. He is truly Emmanuel, God with us. And as I have been learning from my Calvinist brothers and sisters at Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church in Ft. Lauderdale, namely Pastor Tullian Tchividjian, God—in his complete sovereignty—orchestrates everything (past, present, and future) for our good and for His glory. This doesn't always mean easy (and rarely does), but it does mean good. Nothing happens in my life that is outside of God's control and that is not ultimately for my benefit (thanks Micah for your insight here). Therefore He alone deserves to be praised and it is in Him that I find refuge. As a Scottish theologian once said, "the ‘Sovereignty of God’ is the doctrine in which the weary saint rests his head at night". A "Big God Theology" (as some might call it) is comforting, even in the midst of a perceived living hell. Even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil, for He is with us (Psalm 23:4). He both precedes and follows me. He places his hand of blessing on my head…I can never escape from His spirit; I can never get away from His presence (Psalm 139:5&7). And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for Him (Romans 8:28). Such promises in Scripture are so comforting and freeing. When we surrender our lives and our future to our creator, the sovereign Lord, we experience true freedom and comfort.
My job at OneHope has provided tremendous opportunities for growth—spiritually, emotionally, academically and vocationally. I mentioned above that I now live in one of the most violent communities in the US; a community in Pompano Beach, Florida, known as Avondale. Though my work did not require me to live in Avondale, I decided to move here as I felt God calling me to a life of incarnational ministry, especially because I would be involved with Avondale quite intimately because of OneHope's involvement here. When I speak of "incarnational ministry" I am speaking of a ministry, or mission, that envisions becoming like the people we are praying to reach, or serve (Hayes 2005, p.16). Pastor, writer, missionary, theologian, and learner Henri Nouwen described this ideal type of ministry during the several months he lived in the slums outside of Lima, Peru; ministry is simply “living with the people, as the people" (Nouwen, 1999 p. 101). In Scripture, the idea of incarnational ministry is scattered throughout the Old and New Testament. Middle Eastern scholar and theologian, Dr. Nabeel Jabbour, argues that during the 400 years of slavery in Egypt, there are no more than a few verses recorded in the Bible between Genesis 50 and Exodus 1 because the Israelites became ethnocentric and turned away from the charge to be a blessing to the entire world—the very words spoken to their patriarch Abraham in Genesis 12 (Jabbour 2008, p. 127-136). The Israelites were to be a blessing to the world because God had blessed them first. They were to be an outward-focused community, yet we have no account of God working in or through His people during those 400 years because the Israelites became inward-focused and lost sight of their purpose to bless the world around them, even in the midst of oppression. In contrast, the 70 years of Exile in Babylon is covered quite extensively in the Old Testament. God’s people were commanded to reflect the goodness, grace, and mercy of God during this time, even amongst their oppressors. It was while they were in Exile that they were commanded to “seek the peace and prosperity” of Babylon (the city of their enemies) and “build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce” (Jeremiah 29:5&7). The period of 400 years between Genesis 50 and Exodus 1 in which God did not speak (that we know of) because His people did not live among the foreign nations of the world to bless them is quite opposite from the 70 years when they were in Exile. Its seems that even in the Old Testament, God was showing us that He is most alive when His people are focused on blessing the community they are living in, even in the midst of oppression and poverty.
In the New Testament, John 1:14 says that "the Word became flesh and dwelt among us..." referring to Jesus as "the Word". The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians writes, "To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like the one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings" (I Corinthians 9:20-23). Incarnational ministry (specifically among the poor) is nothing new, though it is not all too common among Protestant circles. It has been modeled by spiritual heroes throughout history, from the Apostle Paul to St. Francis of Assisi to Mother Teresa to Henri Nouwen to Dorothy Day. I knew that God was calling me to live in Avondale, with (or among) the people of Avondale, as the people of Avondale, as parallel to Nouwen’s model of incarnational living (“living with… as…”). Although my job is of a different level than most people's jobs in Avondale and therefore my clothes are often a bit nicer, I am intentionally trying to live in a way that is closely resembled by others in the community. This approach to ministry does not produce quick results or products, but is demanding and yet rewarding during the journey. It is what Jesus did on earth ("the Word became flesh and dwelt among us") and it is what the church ought to be doing; not just within the comfort of suburban America, but among the outcast and the disenfranchised as well. After all, slum populations are growing faster around the globe than any other demographic sector (Lu Krieg 2004, p. 1-2) and are therefore one of biggest mission fields of the global Church.
There are sobering moments when living among the materially poor. Many evenings I come home from work tired and wanting to relax after the 8-hour workday. I begin to think how important it is that I rest, eat well, and get enough personal time so that I can go back to work the next day rejuvenated. My perfect, comfortable 9-5 work schedule becomes a point of contention when I see my next door neighbor, Jose (pseudonym), leave his apartment every night at 10pm. At 10 o'clock, the work “day” has just begun for Jose. Throughout his 7-day workweek, Jose spends approximately 75 hours cleaning restaurants from 10pm to 9am. When he arrives back at home after work, his two young boys are awake and demanding his time and attention. I don't know when Jose sleeps but I do know how quick I am to complain when I don't get an "adequate" night's sleep. Unfortunately, Jose's story is not that uncommon. One evening he tells me the story of how he spent several days and nights with his wife and children in the middle of the desert in Northern Mexico, crossing illegally into Texas. He moved to Florida 10 years ago from his hometown in Chiapas (southern province in Mexico) to escape the violence and social oppression for a better life. Since then, he’s been working restaurant jobs to earn enough income to support his family and their humble lifestyle. Currently he works every night "except for Christmas, Christmas Eve, Thanksgiving, New Years and 4th of July" he tells me. It is a sobering reminder that while I have the privilege of having the weekends off, Jose is working 7 days (nights) a week. Even more sobering, is that while I take for granted and enjoy eating nice meals out in restaurants, Jose and many others with similar stories are the ones cleaning those very restaurants at night. And it's not just the restaurant; it's the hotel that I stay at with the over-worked and under-paid housekeeping staff, or the building where I attend a conference with similar low-wage janitors and maintenance workers. These people are largely unnoticed in our society and are essentially invisible. These people are my neighbors in Avondale.
Today I had another experience that really shook me to my core. As I have been spending the past few days in Bradenton, Florida, with the outreach director of Bayside Community Church, I have spent some time surveying the specific community that Bayside is involved in ministering to. The community known as Pride Park is the poorest neighborhood in Bradenton, home to a mix of Hispanics and blacks. While driving around and talking with some of the members of the community, we stopped at a house that some members of the church have a relationship with. We knocked and waited for about 90 seconds. After no answer, we got back in the car and were about to pull away when the mother opened the door. I got back out of the car and greeted her in Spanish, but she quickly backed away from the door and called her son to come out and speak with me. Hector, as I will call him, was a quiet 17-year old. He was very reserved and hesitated to make eye contact with either the director or myself. I asked Hector several questions about the neighborhood and his experience living there. His answers were brief and he seemed to be a hard egg to crack. I later found out from the director that several months ago, INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service) came to Hector's house and aggressively arrested Hector's father to be detained, leaving behind his wife and children (Hector’s brothers and sisters). From my understanding, the event was quite traumatizing and has had devastating impacts on the entire family. The house is now disillusioned by fear and hostility. The reality of the fear that grips Hector's family on a daily basis is something that I will probably never experience and once again (unfortunately), Hector's family’s situation is not all that uncommon in certain communities throughout the US and the rest of the world. Such experiences and situations demand a deeply-rooted relationship in a living God, the one who directs our steps and leads us on the path of righteousness. He is the one true God—creator of the universe—known in the person and life of Jesus Christ. He is full of wisdom and goodness and is searching the world to give wisdom and discernment to those who remain close to Him and His way. Ministering to a family such as Hector's or Jose's—or any other family in a community like Avondale—as a privileged white guy from the suburbs, is humanly impossible, yet Jesus makes it possible.
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