A few weeks ago, Jess and Eden went out of town to Kentucky for a few days, leaving me at home here in Maryland. Though Maryland is, indeed, beginning to feel like home, I wasn't much in the mood to be by myself, and so I ventured out to the bar of a restaurant in a more hip part of Annapolis. I sat down at the bar, ordered some food and drink, and pulled out my notebook and Bible to start working on lesson plans.
Occasionally I would look up and feel wholly lost. There were lots of couples; dating couples and married couples. There were groups of friends, dressed a bit too nice for the atmosphere, and, crowded at the bar with me, legions of single and divorced men, to whom I've taken a liking to meeting and engaging in conversation. Behind the bar were, of course, the bartenders, who I always find interesting. Bartenders are typically the smartest and hardest working people in the restaurant, make nearly the most money of all the restaurant employees, and almost always are using bartending as a means to do something else with their life. Watch bartenders: they'll either crash and burn in a few months, or be gone within a couple of a years doing something successful.
Every patron in the bar was trying to answer the same question and quench the same thirst. It was a Friday night, and no one wanted to be alone. The allure of a crowded, noisy, poorly lit environment drew in the masses. By 10pm, no one seemed to mind anymore if the bar wasn't the actual answer to loneliness. A community of lonely people erupted into a community of those who chose to try to solve their one-night problem. Everyone cheered louder, drank more, wore less, and I quickly realized it was time for me to leave. I had arrived with the same question as everyone else but realized I had answered it incorrectly. Rather than stay and convince, I realized the largest statement I could make was to follow my own convictions.
The liberalism and Christian complacency of the 19th and 20th centuries has brought many American Christians to the same party. We have all begun asking the same questions, feeling the sense of urgency that betrays our silent condition. But, as it is during the beginning steps of all transitions, most of the answers we're coming up with are dead wrong. Christians have not betrayed the poison respectability that weakened the Modernist church; they have simply re-framed it by the murder of our parents for their sins and downplaying the most important point of the Gospel: God is just, yet wants to show mercy and grace. Therefore Christ must bear the punishment of sins. Christ then conquered death, allowing us to do the same. This brings us to peace with God.
The Christian party is filled with voices that want to talk about everything else the Gospel may be about, for fear of irrelevance, and as if their parents weren't guilty of the exact same crime. Do you really think that the church became smaller because of a commitment to the simple, rich truth of grace and peace through Jesus Christ? "Relevance" is nothing more than respectability. Pursuing relevance through respectability, for a Christian, is covert and a lie. Jesus never sought respectability; he didn't need to. Jesus delivered his message unapolegetcally, as did the apostles. It got them killed. It got them exiled. But it also led to the mass conversion of many souls. They gave up the notion that they could ever earn the world's respect. Those very basic facts paint a different picture than the one being promoted by the conversants of my generation and that of my older brothers and sisters.
The right questions are not the right answers. Honesty may be the beginning of integrity, but it is not the whole of it. I am indebted to those who have started the conversation, but let's not pretend for an instant that we're arriving at anywhere near the same answers as the martyrs and fathers.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Scrappy-Doo and the Burning Coals
21If your enemy is hungry, give him bread to eat,
and if he is thirsty, give him water to drink,
22for you will heap burning coals on his head,
and the LORD will reward you.
- Proverbs 25:21-22
"Lemme at 'em! I'll splat 'em!"
- Scrappy Doo
If you know me well at all, you know that I love a good fight. Whether it's trying to take out a friend in friendly hand-to-hand combat or defending a cause, I've always been invigorated by the thought of going to war. Many times, it's an admirable and fun trait. At other times, it's a hindrance and a real problem.
Like Scrappy Doo from the old Scooby Doo cartoons, I don't often think before I jump headlong into battle. Something needs to be defended, an enemy captured, honor restored, so I jump right in without giving thought to what I'm actually going to do when I raise my fists. Though I believe I prefer being this way to being a coward, my propensity for going to war without reviewing the consequences has cost me friendships and working relationships.
One of the beautiful things about being an intern is that I can vent my frustration to my boss and allow him to tell me what I should do instead. Ministry is full of adversity. It never goes away and never takes a break. On any given day there are several battles I could choose to go fight. Instead, I'm having to learn that not every war is worth fighting, and, as the Bible teaches in Proverbs, it's often best to provide sustenance for your enemy rather than being the bearer of pain (I sound real tough, don't I?).
In Church, you don't have the option of making enemies. Any enemy you have should only be the result of the fact that someone has made you his enemy. In fact, Jesus dying for and reconciling himself to his enemies sets the example for us to do the same. "Heaping burning coals" on someone's head is a way to shame someone into reconciliation. It is, in a way, going to war, but it's going to war for your enemy's soul rather than against it.
Of course, there comes a point in time when someone's wickedness poses a danger to those around him, and at that point the battle is necessary. Words and fists can fly and things can get ugly, with the righteous man not being wrong for going to war. But it's not always or often necessary, and it's certainly never necessary if your intent is to destroy your enemy's soul past the point of restoration.
It should be said in closing that the only reason I'm writing this is because my sinful nature desires to go to war right now. In my heart I know that the only thing at stake in the battle is my own pride, and that's not enough. Pray for me as I continue to learn to be a pastor and not just a got with a lot of passion.
and if he is thirsty, give him water to drink,
22for you will heap burning coals on his head,
and the LORD will reward you.
- Proverbs 25:21-22
"Lemme at 'em! I'll splat 'em!"
- Scrappy Doo
If you know me well at all, you know that I love a good fight. Whether it's trying to take out a friend in friendly hand-to-hand combat or defending a cause, I've always been invigorated by the thought of going to war. Many times, it's an admirable and fun trait. At other times, it's a hindrance and a real problem.
Like Scrappy Doo from the old Scooby Doo cartoons, I don't often think before I jump headlong into battle. Something needs to be defended, an enemy captured, honor restored, so I jump right in without giving thought to what I'm actually going to do when I raise my fists. Though I believe I prefer being this way to being a coward, my propensity for going to war without reviewing the consequences has cost me friendships and working relationships.
One of the beautiful things about being an intern is that I can vent my frustration to my boss and allow him to tell me what I should do instead. Ministry is full of adversity. It never goes away and never takes a break. On any given day there are several battles I could choose to go fight. Instead, I'm having to learn that not every war is worth fighting, and, as the Bible teaches in Proverbs, it's often best to provide sustenance for your enemy rather than being the bearer of pain (I sound real tough, don't I?).
In Church, you don't have the option of making enemies. Any enemy you have should only be the result of the fact that someone has made you his enemy. In fact, Jesus dying for and reconciling himself to his enemies sets the example for us to do the same. "Heaping burning coals" on someone's head is a way to shame someone into reconciliation. It is, in a way, going to war, but it's going to war for your enemy's soul rather than against it.
Of course, there comes a point in time when someone's wickedness poses a danger to those around him, and at that point the battle is necessary. Words and fists can fly and things can get ugly, with the righteous man not being wrong for going to war. But it's not always or often necessary, and it's certainly never necessary if your intent is to destroy your enemy's soul past the point of restoration.
It should be said in closing that the only reason I'm writing this is because my sinful nature desires to go to war right now. In my heart I know that the only thing at stake in the battle is my own pride, and that's not enough. Pray for me as I continue to learn to be a pastor and not just a got with a lot of passion.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
This past Saturday I found myself doing clean up work on an 1893 mansion on the outskirts of Baltimore for an organization called the Samaritan Women. The house, though gutted in many places, still retains the aura of one of those quirky homes that I thought only existed in movies. It's 8,000 square feet with endless rooms, three stories, a basement, multiple staircases, and seemingly a thousand ways to get from one place to the next. One of the great things about mission trips is they always seem to have such fascinating backdrops.
When I arrived with the high schoolers and adults on site I was shuffled towards Jean, the chief board member for the Samaritan Women, to be briefed on the purpose of the house. Honestly, at first I was more interested in getting to work than listening. What she had to say, though, left a pit in my stomach and a burden on my heart.
Jean toured me around the house as we discussed how the mansion is to be used as a transition home for women to get off the streets and into society. It will also serve as a culinary arts school that will provide the women with a trade to take with them as they reenter the job field, helping them not to fall back into some of the common pitfalls of female poverty (drugs, prostitution, etc.). The Samaritan Women already does a substantial amount of ministry fighting female poverty and spreading the Gospel in the worst parts of Baltimore, and this is simply another step and another way of reaching out.
All of this sounded wonderful, of course, but I was blown away when she told me that the women she is seeking to help transition back into society are victims of human trafficking and sex slavery.
Though I have been aware for a few years that human trafficking is a problem, Jean truly opened up my eyes to how big a problem it is, even in America. Worldwide, it's a multi-billion dollar industry. Domestically, the three leading cities in human trafficking are Seattle, WA, Portland, OR, and the Baltimore-DC metropolitan area. Domestic human trafficking includes both the purchasing and the abduction and selling of slaves, with the target age of a sex slave for abduction being 11. 11 years old. As we speak, there are countless numbers of pre-teen and teenaged girls who are being ravaged by older men who purchased their services from someone who owns them. Sex tourism is booming business, where men go from place to place and always have a girl with whom to spend the night. Where do many of these girls come from? The harsh reality is that they never chose this life, though even such a choice is a tragedy. Many of these girls were turned into sex toys against their own will on the day of their abduction.
As Jean and I discussed the harsh realities of a cruel world, I became angry and terribly saddened. Maybe the abortion issue seems to big, and maybe Sundan is too far away, but here, on a Saturday in July, I was talking with a woman who had looked depravity and corruption in the face and was ready to do something about it. Her and I have both seen prostitutes, we've both met victims, but only one of us was engaging them in a way that would help them encounter the God who loves them and wants to change their lives forever. I left that Baltimore mansion knowing I had to return as soon as I could.
As I'm writing this, it reminds me of an evening my wife and I had with our daugther the week after she turned one. Eden woke us up screaming in her crib, and when we went in to check on her, we noticed that she had been vomiting, and was continuing to vomit. As she had probably begun getting sick while she was still sleeping, she had obviously layed in her own vomit, which was now covering her, including her face, and she was not able to see. As Jess walked out of the room the get Eden's back ready to take her to the ER (she had rotovirus, we found out later) I was left staring at my child, screaming and covered from head to toe in her own sickness. At that moment, no one had to explain to me what to do. I grabbed anything I could wipe her off and I cleaned out her eyes so she could see. The sight was so terribly sad that my instincts as a father to protect my daughter kicked in and I moved into action. My daughter could not be left like that.
In much the same way, after hearing of the depts of human trafficking, I cannot compell myself to go back to the way things were before. The scene is disturbing, my heart is broken, and I must take action.
When I arrived with the high schoolers and adults on site I was shuffled towards Jean, the chief board member for the Samaritan Women, to be briefed on the purpose of the house. Honestly, at first I was more interested in getting to work than listening. What she had to say, though, left a pit in my stomach and a burden on my heart.
Jean toured me around the house as we discussed how the mansion is to be used as a transition home for women to get off the streets and into society. It will also serve as a culinary arts school that will provide the women with a trade to take with them as they reenter the job field, helping them not to fall back into some of the common pitfalls of female poverty (drugs, prostitution, etc.). The Samaritan Women already does a substantial amount of ministry fighting female poverty and spreading the Gospel in the worst parts of Baltimore, and this is simply another step and another way of reaching out.
All of this sounded wonderful, of course, but I was blown away when she told me that the women she is seeking to help transition back into society are victims of human trafficking and sex slavery.
Though I have been aware for a few years that human trafficking is a problem, Jean truly opened up my eyes to how big a problem it is, even in America. Worldwide, it's a multi-billion dollar industry. Domestically, the three leading cities in human trafficking are Seattle, WA, Portland, OR, and the Baltimore-DC metropolitan area. Domestic human trafficking includes both the purchasing and the abduction and selling of slaves, with the target age of a sex slave for abduction being 11. 11 years old. As we speak, there are countless numbers of pre-teen and teenaged girls who are being ravaged by older men who purchased their services from someone who owns them. Sex tourism is booming business, where men go from place to place and always have a girl with whom to spend the night. Where do many of these girls come from? The harsh reality is that they never chose this life, though even such a choice is a tragedy. Many of these girls were turned into sex toys against their own will on the day of their abduction.
As Jean and I discussed the harsh realities of a cruel world, I became angry and terribly saddened. Maybe the abortion issue seems to big, and maybe Sundan is too far away, but here, on a Saturday in July, I was talking with a woman who had looked depravity and corruption in the face and was ready to do something about it. Her and I have both seen prostitutes, we've both met victims, but only one of us was engaging them in a way that would help them encounter the God who loves them and wants to change their lives forever. I left that Baltimore mansion knowing I had to return as soon as I could.
As I'm writing this, it reminds me of an evening my wife and I had with our daugther the week after she turned one. Eden woke us up screaming in her crib, and when we went in to check on her, we noticed that she had been vomiting, and was continuing to vomit. As she had probably begun getting sick while she was still sleeping, she had obviously layed in her own vomit, which was now covering her, including her face, and she was not able to see. As Jess walked out of the room the get Eden's back ready to take her to the ER (she had rotovirus, we found out later) I was left staring at my child, screaming and covered from head to toe in her own sickness. At that moment, no one had to explain to me what to do. I grabbed anything I could wipe her off and I cleaned out her eyes so she could see. The sight was so terribly sad that my instincts as a father to protect my daughter kicked in and I moved into action. My daughter could not be left like that.
In much the same way, after hearing of the depts of human trafficking, I cannot compell myself to go back to the way things were before. The scene is disturbing, my heart is broken, and I must take action.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Here and Here
As summer drew to a close in 2009 my wife and I sat in our home in Millersville, TN, dreaming of the possibilities that would one day manifest in the far off state of Maryland. The Reformed Youth Ministries internship was still no more than an idea, a piece of hope, and our fund-raising efforts seemed like the collection work of someone else's ministry.
Today I sit in my office, a small, 6X12ish hallway in the administrative wing of Grace Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Davidsonville, MD. What was once an idea is now a place in time. Roughly 10 miles to the south lies our beautiful 1940s Cape Cod style rental home that sits right on the Chesapeake Bay. Though many were concerned that we would consider the house too dated for our tastes, to my wife and I it is a beautiful place that embodies the work of almost a year. Through the blessing and providence of God, the hard work has paid off, and I am now an apprentice in ministry.
I spend most of my days here working with volunteers and interns, helping them to help others. As I've been given an internship in both the worship ministry and the youth ministry, my days feel very frantic and schizophrenic. Coming out of a job at Vanderbilt University Medical Center where there was clear expectations and quite a bit of structure, I'm back in a mode of culture shock that comes with readjusting to life in ministry. Planned days are often interrupted by necessary reactive work, and reactions do not always go as planned. Every day is a sort of adventure, and, thankfully, there is never a dull moment.
To everyone who has helped me arrive here, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I pray that God would bless you in the ways that you need. I'll post updates here on this blog and send out newsletters as I compile the list.
in Christ,
Joe
Today I sit in my office, a small, 6X12ish hallway in the administrative wing of Grace Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Davidsonville, MD. What was once an idea is now a place in time. Roughly 10 miles to the south lies our beautiful 1940s Cape Cod style rental home that sits right on the Chesapeake Bay. Though many were concerned that we would consider the house too dated for our tastes, to my wife and I it is a beautiful place that embodies the work of almost a year. Through the blessing and providence of God, the hard work has paid off, and I am now an apprentice in ministry.
I spend most of my days here working with volunteers and interns, helping them to help others. As I've been given an internship in both the worship ministry and the youth ministry, my days feel very frantic and schizophrenic. Coming out of a job at Vanderbilt University Medical Center where there was clear expectations and quite a bit of structure, I'm back in a mode of culture shock that comes with readjusting to life in ministry. Planned days are often interrupted by necessary reactive work, and reactions do not always go as planned. Every day is a sort of adventure, and, thankfully, there is never a dull moment.
To everyone who has helped me arrive here, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I pray that God would bless you in the ways that you need. I'll post updates here on this blog and send out newsletters as I compile the list.
in Christ,
Joe
Thursday, October 29, 2009
An Intentional Lapse In Common Sense
A tumultuous and interesting year can be well summed up in one meeting that I had in early July with the Session of Faith Presbyterian Church. Five men who love me dearly explained to me that evening that God had other plans for my life that didn't include working as the church's youth director anymore. They didn't know what it was that God was doing, but felt confident that God was doing something and I needed to not be at Faith Presbyterian Church in order for that to happen. Staring back across the table at these men I had the strangest reaction: I agreed. With that we made peace, they pledged to do whatever my family needed, and I left the meeting feeling pretty good about life.
Not much later, on a normal work day at Vanderbilt University Medical Center I received a voice mail from a pastor who forgot to tell me who he was and from what church he was calling. After looking up the area code I braved calling him back, set up a time to talk that night, forgot his name shortly thereafter, and also forgot to ask for the name of the church. It turns out his name is Steve Meyerhoff and he is the pastor of Grace Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Davidsonville, Maryland, and he was calling to see if I was the right man to come work at his church for two-thirds of a salary while working with the youth and worship ministry. After speaking with him he seemed to feel confident that I was the man for the job, and I had another strange reaction: I agreed.
Today, after four phone interviews and two weekend-long visits I feel confirmed that the Lord wants me to move my family to a town I'd never heard of in a state I'd never before visited to help minister to people I don't really know for a salary that will require me to raise money to pay my bills. And I couldn't be any happier about it. Of course, I'm not entirely a suffering servant, since Reformed Youth Ministries plans on paying a huge chunk of my seminary for my trouble, but in this step of faith I feel a sense of the presence of God that I've only ever felt on a few other momentous occasions.
Moving to Maryland to follow God feels like pursuing the hand of a girl who lived two states away that I had only met once. I now call that girl my wife. This move feels like sacrificing my selfishness and praying to be blessed with a life of which to take care. That life, at one time only real in prayer, became my beautiful daughter. On the brink of dying to myself and my love of common sense have come some of the greatest blessings that God has given me. In light of this, I'm highly anticipating the next few years of my life.
Prayer requests:
Please pray for our fund raising, as we rejoice in what the Lord has already provided.
Please pray that our house sells soon.
Praises:
Our family and friends have been very generous.
The Yankees are down in the World Series.
Not much later, on a normal work day at Vanderbilt University Medical Center I received a voice mail from a pastor who forgot to tell me who he was and from what church he was calling. After looking up the area code I braved calling him back, set up a time to talk that night, forgot his name shortly thereafter, and also forgot to ask for the name of the church. It turns out his name is Steve Meyerhoff and he is the pastor of Grace Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Davidsonville, Maryland, and he was calling to see if I was the right man to come work at his church for two-thirds of a salary while working with the youth and worship ministry. After speaking with him he seemed to feel confident that I was the man for the job, and I had another strange reaction: I agreed.
Today, after four phone interviews and two weekend-long visits I feel confirmed that the Lord wants me to move my family to a town I'd never heard of in a state I'd never before visited to help minister to people I don't really know for a salary that will require me to raise money to pay my bills. And I couldn't be any happier about it. Of course, I'm not entirely a suffering servant, since Reformed Youth Ministries plans on paying a huge chunk of my seminary for my trouble, but in this step of faith I feel a sense of the presence of God that I've only ever felt on a few other momentous occasions.
Moving to Maryland to follow God feels like pursuing the hand of a girl who lived two states away that I had only met once. I now call that girl my wife. This move feels like sacrificing my selfishness and praying to be blessed with a life of which to take care. That life, at one time only real in prayer, became my beautiful daughter. On the brink of dying to myself and my love of common sense have come some of the greatest blessings that God has given me. In light of this, I'm highly anticipating the next few years of my life.
Prayer requests:
Please pray for our fund raising, as we rejoice in what the Lord has already provided.
Please pray that our house sells soon.
Praises:
Our family and friends have been very generous.
The Yankees are down in the World Series.
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