Tag: hope

  • You Never Let Go

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRfcARM8OwI

    Saturday afternoon most of the team pealed off to go to do VBS and I just felt like I needed to make one more little trip to the Sons of God orphanage. I wasn’t sure why. It was just in me and I needed to do it.

    So I did.

    As we made our way through the series of dirt streets from Pastor David’s house to the orphanage I was just asking God… please, show me your forgotten child. I was praying for just a moment of connection with a child to let him know that Jesus is there for him. I didn’t have a clue how it’d work. But that was my prayer.

    We opened the green heavy steel gate and wound our way through the Pastors house to the little courtyard the children hang out in. Of course, 3-4 visitors from America drop in and every kid just comes to hang out.

    Within a few minutes I was carrying around a little two year old boy… the same one who attached himself to Kristen on her visits there. My heart melted as the warmth of our bodies created a silent bond of sweat. (Older kids, about 6 years old, put the younger ones on their shoulders to bring the babies to you to hold. It’s sweet and scary at the same time!)

    As I held one boy, another would poke me in the back of the leg and go hide. He and I would lock eyes and he would run off to another place. And so, in this tiny little courtyard filled with children and carrying a two year old, I began to play a game of poke/chase with this older boy. (About five years old) It was cute to see his smile and the joy he got from being chased by a fat white man.

    About 15 minutes of this go by. I’m laughing, he is laughing, the baby boy is laughing as I bounce him around, and my back is aching. Eventually I decide I can’t bear the pain of it any longer and sit on the steps leading into the main house.

    The little boy who had alluded me while playing chase just sat down next to me and leaned against by big sweating body. He touched my head, bald and sweaty. He felt the hair on my arms. He kept leaning against me. It was a sweet moment. Then he took his t-shirt, filled with holes, and gently squeegeed off the sweat from my arms. It was tender and loving and I hoped a ball of sweat would land in my eye so I could release the tear building up.

    As I rested and played with the antsy baby he and I just shared a moment where we were in one another’s presence. No words were shared… we just were together and silent among the swarm of activity.

    Suddenly, he got up and went inside. We were sharing such a moment that I didn’t even think it was odd that he got up. He just got up. About a minute later he came back out of the house and sat right next to me… just like we were before. Except he had a picture.

    When I saw the picture I lost it. Sure, I didn’t weep outwardly. But I wept inwardly and only allowed that one Cherokee tear to trickle out. I held those tears in for me. But maybe I also just held it together for him?

    He reached out his arms and showed me a picture of his parents. It was worn and torn. It was faded. And whoever took the snapshot had somehow clipped off the top of his fathers face.

    The photo was of his parents wedding day. The bride beaming, the husband standing proudly next to her, and the table before them filled with foods and a 3 tier wedding cake.

    The boy made eye contact with me. Then pointed to his mom. Then made eye contact with me again. Then pointed to his dad. Then made eye contact with me again to make sure I was looking at his prized possession.

    I understood. He understood. These were his parents. He was orphaned. His heart longed for a day when one of them would walk through the doors of the orphanage and take him home. And that day may never come.

    And so, he and I sat, staring at the picture.

    God answered my prayer in that moment. I don’t know why I felt like I needed to go to the orphanage that afternoon. But I did and this was why. As the little boy and I shared our presence he was able to know that he was not forgotten. Perhaps his parents had abandoned him or perhaps they had died… but he held onto hope.

    The truth is that the orphanage scared me to my core. I never had it perfect as a kid but I always had a loving home to sleep in. My parents loved my brother and I. We never doubted it. And we both knew they would never abandon us. Through the toughest of times they took care of us before they took care of themselves. I never felt the way this boy felt. My empathetic pains were merely hypothetical. I couldn’t fathom his pain. But I could rest in the presence of sharing that moment with him.

    One of the most biting things ever said about me was a pastor, early in my church experience, who said from the pulpit one morning, pointing right at me and asking me to stand up so he could use me as an illustration of his point, that he and the elders had labeled me a “spiritual orphan” in the church.

    Those words punched me in the chest and I don’t know if I have ever recovered from that pain. I felt like I was part of that church community and they merely looked at me as an orphan. I knew those words didn’t reflect the words of Jesus… and yet I knew that I would never quite fit in again in that kind of church.

    Perhaps, at the very core, that is the thing deep inside me that looks at the evangelical church and says… somewhere, deep at the core of who we are as a church… we need to reform?

    You see, we are all spiritual orphans. We are all adopted by Christ.

    Without the love of Jesus, we are all like that boy in the orphanage. We all are looking for a moment of presence. We are all holding on to an image of what a reconciled life will look like.

    May we never let go.

  • Signs of hope in Haiti

    I think the open questions in everyones mind boil down to this.

    1. Are we (outside visitors, aid workers, missionaries) making a difference in Haiti?
    2. Are there any signs that there is a hope for the future of Haiti?

    To answer that, I thought I’d just share some observations from my week that I feel are signs of hope.

    – there is hope, not despair, in the eyes of the children. Everywhere we go, smiles from kids greet us.
    – tent cities seem to be getting their acts together. You kind of rate tent cities like hotels… A star system of sorts. We’ve seen none of the 1 star tent cities (the ones made of sticks and sheets) you see a lot of 3 star ones with well-constructed tents, water systems, latrines, schools, and even play areas.
    – commerce is everywhere. We saw hundreds of small business owners. Many run simple shops selling gum or sodas… But the desire to run a store is huge! We also ran into many men using their trades to turn garbage into money. People are recycling rebar to turn it into grills. They are turning smashed cars into bridges. They are turning cans into piggy banks.all of these are great signs. Desperation leads to innovation.
    – play is coming back. All week I’ve carried a soccer ball in my backpack. And we’ve played hours of simple soccer games with kids. Earlier today we came across a soccer field and watched actual organized soccer.
    – churches have stayed full. I’m actually writing this post while our host church has night worship. The service started 3.5 hours ago. When the pastors house filled up people spilled into the streets. Over one hundred people have spent all night worshipping Jesus. The revival we saw in February was not just temporal. God is still calling people to Himself through Jesus.
    – the past is the past. No one seems to care about things pre-January 12th. They seem very intent in the future of their nation.
    – the youth don’t want to flee. Our team has been served by 4-5 wonderful translators every day. These talented and bright men want to stay here. They aren’t interested in moving to America. Instead, they want to help rebirth their nation.
    – there is no complaining. Before we came here we heard a lot about people growing tired of the government not acting. I’ve not heard that this week. Instead, I’ve seen people taking action to work on true circumstances.

    Sure, things aren’t significantly better than 6 months ago. And there is much left to do… But there is still hope in their air here in Haiti.

  • Why I Don’t Have Haiti Fatigue

    More than 3 months have passed since 200,000 people were killed and a million people were displaced in Port-au-Prince.

    For a news item that’s an eternity ago. It’s just how we’re hardwired. We hear a news item, we are shocked by it, we do a fundraiser, we move on. And we want to block it out until late December of that year when our favorite news agency does “2010: A Year in Photos.”

    For lack of a better term I’ve been calling this “Haiti fatigue.” The news cycle has passed. People are thinking about economic recovery. Health care reform. Earthquakes in San Diego, Chile, and China. Larry King and Tiger Woods sex lives. iPads. On and on. Anything to distract ourselves from the good and bad that is happening just a few hundred miles south of Miami.

    Talking about what’s happening in Haiti just isn’t that interesting to people any more. They are sick of it.

    But I’m not fatigued.

    I’ve not forgotten.

    I’m praying about how to wake up those echoes. Stay tuned.

  • Amidst the Rubble I Found Hope

    It’s hard to believe that its been 6 weeks since we witnessed this outpouring of faith. In some ways it seems like I just got back yesterday and in other ways its as if it was several months ago.

    When people ask me about my time in Haiti I always try to proclaim this simple truth: It wasn’t what I would have expected. I expected to see mourning and anger towards God. Instead I saw rejoicing and people giving their hearts to God in a way I never thought I would experience.

    Two reasons you should go to Haiti:

    1. God is using the church to feed, clothe, and shelter the masses. In the U.S. we aspire to see our churches be a place like in the book of Acts. Well, its happening in exactly that fashion just a few hours south of our border. God doesn’t need you to go so you can feed His people, but He would love it if you would participate in what He is doing.
    2. The Holy Spirit is moving. Its hard  to shape into words what that looks and feels like. While I went to serve with open hands I was shocked to see that God brought me into the midst of a great humanitarian disaster to show me His glory. Amidst the rubble we found hope. Buried beneath the houses and building was the past. And what remained was people left with nothing but the clothes on their backs. At first it disturbed me, “Why aren’t they trying to make a shelter or create something?” Because instantly a nation knew that God is their provider, he is their protector, He is their shelter.

    If only I had faith like that. Maybe mountains would move? Maybe relationships would be restored? Maybe God would pour out His Spirit in the same way?

  • Youth Worker Book of Hope ON SALE NOW!

    At work today Mandy handed me an envelope from Zondervan. Holding it, I could feel a lump in it. As I opened it I joked to myself, “Geez, are they paying me in cash these days?” To my delight it was not a bundle of cash, it was my copy of The Youth Worker Book of Hope.

    Out of pure selfishness, I flipped to the table of contents and scanned for my chapter. Sure enough, on page 99 my name is in black and white. For a blogger that is a funny thing to see. I’m used to seeing my name on a computer screen… but printed in a book was a tactile experience I wasn’t quite prepared for. It was emotional and fun. I then dutifully read my chapter as if I hadn’t read it like 20 times before.

    When this project was originally pitched to me I was literally and figuratively thousands of miles from working at YS. As I’ve blogged about before I didn’t have a strong desire to be a part of a book project. When I walk into a bookstore I love seeing books written by people I know, but for whatever reason I’ve never had a strong desire to walk into a bookstore and find a title with my name on it. While my default answer about any book is always “no,” this project was on a topic near and dear to me– encouraging youth workers faced with crisis. That’s what my chapter is about… how do you handle a crisis in leadership in youth ministry. My working title was “what do you do when the crap hits the fan?” How do you deal with being dealt a bad deck of cards as a leader? I’ve been dealt some fun cards… and I jumped on board with this project because I felt like I had a thing or two to help others.

    Of course, the book isn’t about me. It’s about hope. There are lots of chapters and lots of authors sharing stories of how they found hope in hopeless situations. In that regard I think the book appeals to everyone, even people who don’t work at churches. That’s why I want to encourage you to buy the book. (Like right now! It’s only $11.04, you can do it.) It’s the type of book you want to have on your bookshelf for when hard times hit. It’s the type of book you’ll want to hand to a discouraged friend. It’s the type of book you may even want to come back to. Or even reach out and connect with an author.

    Youth Worker Book of Hope

  • Two views of the local church

    church-views

    There are two sides to every coin, aren’t there? I’ve had this post stuck in my head for several weeks– and I think the illustration says it all.

    Church leaders: Complacency sneaks in. We surround ourselves with people who go to church. We spend a lot of our time at the church. Our perspective becomes that the community revolves around activities at the church. Pretty soon we become ambivelent about the neighborhood we live in. Our schedule is defined on what’s convenient to those who come to church. Our agenda becomes to serve them.

    We perceive our ministry as a “city on a hill” when in fact the people living in our neighborhood are completely unaware of our existence. Before we know it, we are so comfortable with our programs, budgets, staff, and people who come to church we forget reality.

    The reality is that in most communities about 5% of the population attends a church. And yet we are comforable with that. Go ahead do the math yourself. Spend 30 minutes calling every church in your community and get actual attendence numbers. Next, simply divide that number by the population of your community. In most places that number is 5% or less of people who attend church on any given weekend. And we all know that just because someone attends church on Sunday doesn’t mean they are Christians, right?

    Why not take some time to get to know how 95% of the population views your church? Think of it like this. Count the next 20 cars that drive past your house. Only the 20th car will attend a church this weekend. In the illustration above there are 18 houses in view of that church. And none of them will attend that church this weekend. If your theology is like mine, you recognize that Jesus died for all 20 of the people in those cars and all 18 of the people who live in those houses. But who is our ministry serving? The 5% who show up. Most of our money and time is spent serving Jesus from the perspective of the 5% and not the 95%.

    That perspective should change things. 1 in 20 people will attend church this weekend. Any church. Even that church that is so bad you won’t even meet with the pastor to pray.

    I’m speaking to you out of deep gratitude for all that God has given me, and especially as I have responsibilities in relation to you. Living then, as every one of you does, in pure grace, it’s important that you not misinterpret yourselves as people who are bringing this goodness to God. No, God brings it all to you. The only accurate way to understand ourselves is by what God is and by what he does for us, not by what we are and what we do for him. Romans 12:3, The Message

    And yet church leaders reassure themselves that numbers don’t matter! This is the state of the church and people say we don’t need to fundamentally change how we do ministry. We worry about offending the 5%. We worry about changing too much too fast while our sworn enemy puts up victory statues all over. We follow leaders who look at this reality, shrug their shoulders, and move on with their lives. We go to denominiational meetings which agree to spend more money on organizations which are smaller every year. In short, we invest all of our time and energy in a broken model.

    And then when someone really breaks through. And that community reaches 6% of the population so we flock to hear how they did it? Got a book? Teach a seminar? Our perspective is jacked up, isn’t it?

    New leaders are needed. I dream of church leaders coming to the forefront who are drastically interested in the 95%. I long to surround myself with leaders who keep the 5% in perspective. We celebrate those lives changed! But I want to be with men and women who think differently. Where are the leaders who look at those 5% as just the beginning? Where are the people who recognize that a model cannot be built around an individuals talents? Where are the leaders who know they need to start a swarming movement?

    Point me to those people. I am tired of those who are satisfied with the failure of 5%.