City of Brotherly Love? Part I

Over the next few weeks I'll be digging up stories from my time in Philadelphia with a group called Urban Hope. This is my way of processing everything that happened, so really you're just joining me as I try to figure out what it is that I've learned.

My drive toward Warsaw, Indiana was a bit unnerving. I knew practically nothing about the trip, other than we were going to Philly. I also had no clue who was going on the trip with me. With the exception of one informational meeting, I knew no one who climbed on that old BlueBird school bus, which motivated me to stick my nose in a book for most of the ride.

Just before leaving, Courtney had recommended The Same Kind of Different as Me, the autobiography of a man who grew up as a sharecropper in the south, hopped a train at thirty to the city, succumbed to drugs and homelessness, spent every night for over a year praying beside a dumpster for a close friend, and went almost daily to a nursing home to care for and clean up a severely racist old man who only referred to him as 'nigger.' There is more to it than all of that, and you should probably read the book, but I think it represents the tension of love and addiction that I encountered on the streets of Philadelphia.

It's easy to pretend the world is a simple place, that people are homeless because they are lazy, or do drugs because they make the choice to do so, and that all drug dealers care about is an easy dollar. This sort of oversimplification makes it easier to deal with life. If I see a man on the street with a sign it's easier to look away if I think that he should have known better, or worked harder, or paid attention in school instead of doing drugs. I can reassure myself that I am helping him by not helping. If I give him a dollar, he'll probably just buy drugs. Besides, he probably makes $30,000 a year begging. We can always find excuses. But as I learned in Philly, if we actually stop and listen we will find that there are individual people with individual problems. Who knows, they might even become a mirror.

So I will be telling a few of those stories that I was able to listen to; like Sean, who apparently did two drug deals while we talked about him, or Carl, who worshiped God over a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich before and after his heroin induced caesurae, or Gino, who had turned down a salary because he was still afraid of what money would do to him.

I have to warn you, my experiences were limited in time and scope. While I hope this serves as an inspiration to further understand the complexity of poverty, as well as people, consider this as about as comprehensive and studied as the recent Kony phenomena. There is simply no way that with my limited experience I will be able to do more than broach the subject at this point. I'm just trying to process the things I did see and hear. I hope to do some more reading on the topic myself, and I'll be sure to pass on whatever resources I come across.

May I learn to look people in the eye and listen.

Jason's Letter to the Church in the US

Please understand my title as tongue in cheek. I am not the voice of God. Do, however, listen carefully because I think I am asking questions that try to get to the heart of God.

Political season is gearing up, or rather already has been. The Republican primary has turned into a circus. We will soon be finishing up the spec and moving into the main event, kicked off by renewed 'birther' controversy that will probably hit the fan within a day or so. And I cringe.

Not because I think the ongoing controversy is possibly idiotic (I do), but because of what I fear the church will do with it, and this new election.

I fear for the church, not so much that it will entirely fall apart, but that we will sink into another political cat fight. You know that whole thing where everyone else accuses everyone else of not being a faithful follower of Jesus because they didn't vote a certain way. I have a specific church in mind that had members leave because of their disgust with the acceptance of a political diversity. Though it comes from both sides, the reality is that the louder voice of contention comes from the religious right.

It seems I have tipped my hand. I am obviously an Obama advocate. No, not really. I don't find him to be the idiot that most Christians I talk to claim, but my ideals actually line up the most (which in this case is about 25%) with Ron Paul. Mostly I just like that I know exactly what Paul has thought about things for the last twenty years. However, you should take this 'endorsement' as nothing more than an acknowledgement that if we sat and expressed personal opinions about things, we would agree slightly more often than I would be the case with other candidates.

But really, I'm not exactly here to talk about polotics.

I'm here to talk about why I intentionally did not vote in 2008 and may not in 2012 It's not because I'm being lazy about it. In fact I'd like to think I've been following polotics quite well.

And why didn't I vote?

I think it is important to be involved in the political process, to give one's opinion, and to appreciate democracy. I encourage people to be thoroughly informed, something more than just spouting off whatever Rachel Maddow, or Glenn Beck said this week (Which Beck actually recommends himself). However, my priority is a kingdom that is not of this earth. The Bible says that we are aliens, ambassadors, passers-through on this planet. I think those terms (among other items) should place a weight on us about our role on this earth that reminds us that political ideals take third or fourth chair in relation to God's kingdom. I repeat, be involved, and vote, but realize that the voice you lift up as a Christian in politics can affect assumptions people have about Jesus in ways that may not necessarily be true of Him.

I've heard it said that if you don't vote you can't bitch. Well in the case of the kingdom of God, I decided to not vote so I could bitch. Essentially I didn't want the concerns I raise to be confused with bitterness that my team didn't win. Whether that was the right decision or not, God knows. It is what it is.

So these are my requests -no, my pleas for the church in the United States.

1) As Jesus prayed for us in his final hours, may we seek unity. Jesus compiled a group of political opposites, revolutionaries, Roman IRS agents, secessionists, and blue collar workers, and made the kingdom of God their priority. These radically different men added thousands of Barbarians, Scythians, Slaves, and Millionaires to this body of misfits. I believe that priority is still present today.

2) While I don't advocate the issue of 'political correctness,' I do advocate the unbending love of God that is perceptive and compassionate, seeking to convince others of Christ, removing any obstacles to that person seeing the savior more clearly. Have political discussions, be honest, but allow the Spirit of God to let you know when your disdain for 'political correctness' might keep someone from encountering God.

3) Recognize that it is God who establishes authorities, and not just the ones you like. We are told to honor the king, and to pray for him. This language comes out of a Roman concession to the Jews. Instead of offering sacrifices to the emperor, they offered sacrifices on his behalf to God. You may not always like the person in power, but God has called you to live in the tension of giving honor to the one you disagree with. It's helpful to remember our problem in that tension tends to be failure in the honoring category. We don't seem to have problems letting people know what we don't like.

I'm sure there is a lot more to say, but these (in my opinion) are the most important.

I'll leave Gungor to add a final point.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WybvhRu9KU

Recognizing Misconceptions

It's easy to think that when we talk we are saying something obvious and clear. If someone rejects what we say they are clearly rejecting what we think we are communicating, right? Not necessarily.

Speakers at very large youth seminars like to talk about how we shouldn't be ashamed to tell everyone who Jesus is, all the time. Just lay it out there and let people accept or reject it.

I think Jesus would have had a problem with this. Jesus recognized that people often have certain hangups that take time to get past before they can hear about an idea. Jesus himself actually did this. On multiple occasions Jesus told people not to tell others that he was the Messiah. So Jesus was ashamed of himself? No, not really. He was considerate of other people and their assumptions.

Jesus knew that the Jewish perception of the Messiah was so far off target that he avoided the term, even though he was in fact the Messiah. Instead he used an obscure term hidden in Daniel called Son of Man. He then told them who the Son of Man was and what he would do, that he would tear down the temple and rebuild it in three days. After his death and resurrection his followers went around telling people that the Son of Man was the Messiah. Youth pastors that look like Brad Pitt would like to tell you that you shouldn't care what people think, but Jesus did care.

And here we are today, and if I'm honest I hesitate when people ask for quick responses about faith. Not because I'm ashamed of what I believe, I just realize that it takes anywhere from good hour of conversation to a lifetime to even begin working past assumptions about what "Christians" are and who Jesus is.

I want people to know who Jesus is, but I want people to know who Jesus is, and that takes more than thirty seconds, especially when all the little Jesus people have been running around for so long yelling that dirty people are a nuisance to him.

Shooting at the Bowling Alley

I watched as the most skilled member of our expedition twisted his body like Bill Murray in Kingpin, minus the toupee flapping in the wind. A few lanes down, keeping up my movie reference, a few Amish kids enjoy cheap beer and opportunities for the guys in the group to prove their manhood to the bonnets by hurling 12 pound urethane orbs at a triangle of 10 squat, wood pins.

I chat with a friend about the local economy. And as casually as Bill Murray posts turkeys onto his score, I shoot off my mouth and land red hot lead in his heart.

Words, intended for good or evil, carry a force to be reckoned with. Frankly it doesn't matter whether or not we intended them this way or that. Stray bullets don't care about motives.

I'm not very good about using my words wisely. I walk into conversations like I'm in a scene out of the Matrix, guns blazing, room left in ashes. Then I come to and see the victims of friendly fire, at which point I call the ambulance in panic. I'd like to think that I'm better at this than I used to be, but when it comes to words, my mind always has a finger on the trigger, which results in more wounded friends than I'd like to admit.

A Shooting at the Bowling Alley

I watched as the most skilled member of our expedition twisted his body like Bill Murray in Kingpin, minus the toupee flapping in the wind. A few lanes down, keeping up my movie reference, a few Amish kids enjoy cheap beer and opportunities for the guys in the group to prove their manhood to the bonnets by hurling 12 pound urethane orbs at a triangle of 10 squat, wood pins.

I chat with a friend about the local economy. And as casually as Bill Murray posts turkeys onto his score, I shoot off my mouth and land red hot lead in his heart.

Words, intended for good or evil, carry a force to be reckoned with. Frankly it doesn't matter whether or not we intended them this way or that. Stray bullets don't care about motives.

I'm not very good about using my words wisely. I walk into conversations like I'm in a scene out of the Matrix, guns blazing, room left in ashes. Then I come to and see the victims of friendly fire, at which point I call the ambulance in panic. I'd like to think that I'm better at this than I used to be, but when it comes to words, my mind always has a finger on the trigger, which results in more wounded friends than I'd like to admit.

My Post Game Analysis

I watched the big game yesterday. I enjoy football. It reminds me of Sunday afternoons with my dad. I'm not as dedicated as I used to be, but if there's a game on, I enjoy reconnecting with those memories.

Of Course my memories also include dozens of advertising vignettes, that creatively tried to sell me cheap beer and domain names. Everything about Superbowl coverage is product placement. Every award, replay, player of the game, is sponsored by something. And of course we anticipate the commercials. In my experience, the beer commercials are usually the most creative. I still have vivid images of the Budweiser frogs of my youth. This year was a bit lackluster, mostly they tried to make it look like sophisticated people rather than rednecks drank Budweiser.

A not so funny series of commercials were by G&E. They had one where cancer survivors met the people who made cat scan machines. It was rather sentimental. There was a gentle crescendo of violins when they arrived at the factory and met the employees. Several of this year's Superbowl ads carried a seemingly heartfelt concern for the real issues in the world. Seemingly.

But this isn't really about football or commercials.

I heard something last year around this time that I forgot about until driving home after the game. This "something" didn't make headlines, or get an envied spot as a Superbowl commercial. It is something I'd honestly rather not think about, especially on a day that should be filled with laughter and good food. But if the past fifteen years of the Superbowl are any indicator, yesterday, Indianapolis was the best place in the country to pay money to have sex with a child.

The Superbowl is the largest event of the year for the sex slave trade. Two years ago in Miami it was estimated that while the Indianapolis Colts were being raped, so were 10,000 victims of the sex slave trade, most of those 18 and under.

If you watched the game, I hope you enjoyed it, but don't let Ferris Bueller commercials, the bulging breasts of several dozen women, the notion that G&E might care more about people than money, or even your severe love or hatred for a few dozen men you know very little about distract you from the realities of what this game meant to a possible 10,000 people this year.

I'm not sure what to do with this info right now, and I'm not sure what you can either, but I think we should be people willing to live within the tensions of joy and pain. I want to be awake, I want to make a difference, I think that starts by recognizing there is a problem.

If you'd like some info from the experts about what you can do, here are some experts.
www.traffick911.com

Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places

God knows I can't pay attention for very long. As a musician, I'm always looking for innovation, a new guitar tone, maybe a fancy new way to guide rhythm in a song. When I hear new music I become obsessed. I field dress it several times a day until I can pick out every layer while hanging upside down blindfolded. Then, in the distance, I hear the new Coldplay album tinkling in the breeze. And like a child who spots a shiny yellow dump truck accross the room, I set down the White Stripes and make like a zombie toward Mylo Xyloto.

God knows I can't pay attention for very long.

One of my favorite poets is Gerard Manly Hopkins. Hopkins believed that everything carried an essence within it, an essence that ultimately points back to Christ, which is where I got the title "Christ plays in ten thousand places." This has been my life. God seems to teach me things by having them pop up everywhere, sort of like a Made in China sticker seems on practically every toy from my childhood.

In the past few weeks that lesson has been about suffering in the world around me (which will be it's own post later on). The sources include a sermon at my church, an episode of NPR's This American Life, President Obama's speech at the national prayer breakfast, an email from some missionaries from our church, and then last night through my wife's reflections on a day where God was teaching her the exact same thing through some pretty difficult and random (If you believe in such a thing) circumstances. And I just lay there, half listening, half telling God, "Ok I get it, I get it."

God knows I can't pay attention very long, but instead of beating me over the head for not focusing, He gets creative.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire - Gerard Manly Hopkins

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;

As tumbled over rim in roundy wells

Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's

Bow string finds tongue to fling out broad its name;

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:

Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;

Selves-goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,

Crying What I do is me: for that I came.

I say more: the just man justices;

Keeps grace: that keeps all his going graces;

Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is -

Christ - for Christ plays in ten thousand places,

Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his

To the Father through the features of men's faces.