My Students.

I realize just how much I love my students in these moments. As I beg of God’s protection over them… in pleading, in earnestness, in fear. They are so fragil. So impactful. One should see their eyes as they look at me, peering in and asking for questions and answers and anything I have to offer. And I just say the same, “I don’t know anything new… I’m sorry. I’ll tell you when I do.” And they respond with solemn, trusting faces, look at me as this shield of protection for them. And so I plead to Jesus on their behalf. Lord God, protect them… keep them safe… hold them… put a shield around them…

And in those same moments, I cry and cringe for my beautiful boys who are now growing to be men. No longer filling seats in my desks, but driving their way to school for the first times… And I think of these boys and fall inside. I am afraid for them. I wish I could protect them. I wish I could shelter them. I wish I could hug them and tell them everything will be okay.
But I can’t.

I can’t do it for either of them, the students standing at my door now, or walking a different sidewalk to school.

And so I pray, dear Jesus, hold them safe.

Protect those I love.

Football.

Today, I am thankful for football. For kids cheering in the stands, for parents docked in green and yellow. For a community coming together.

I talked to my students earlier this week about the difference between rules (religion) and a relationship with Christ. One of the examples I gave for relationship was a football game. I said, "Sometimes, the most worshipful thing you can do is go out and play football."

They had suprised looks on their faces.

But last night proved my point. It was worship. It was the community coming together, the essense of all that is good. It is the aggression that can be taken out and pummeled on the field. The hugs that are given, round after round.

When we all fall down, when our insides are broken, when we have nothing left to give, and nothing left to say...

Thank you, Lord, for football.

When I think of you...

A student of mine who is now in high school is in the hospital, hooked to a ventilator, and has no brain activity. I have no words to speak. I comfort my students. I play the role. But inside, there is so much to think, so much to say. The only way to say... is with words. So here is my letter to him.... from my personal blog... but to share with you for prayer for him.

-----

When I think of you…

I think of you and I smile. I see your face, your spark, your hand raised in the air with questions and answers. I think of you and see a green jersey with yellow writing that first day of class, you armed in your football jersey, me an intimidated teacher by this flock of ‘football guys.’ I look at you and I see potential. I see the kid who wrote with the hardest, darkest, lines I’ve ever seen. Trying to scribble out letters in their jagged form. I look at you and I see the kid who laughed, who played, who cared. You worked with the kid in class who needed help, even microwaving his lunch before you ate your own. You burst with potential. On the field, in the classroom, in your friendships, in your family.

I think of you, and I think of your family. I think of your parents sitting down to conferences and asking why you came home with bruises — making my heart leap — then they laughed about the noodle game. I think of their love. Of [your sister's] never-ending positive attitude and concern. I think of you and these peope come to mind. And I think of your friends… of [--deleted for privacy--] and the countless others who filled your day and banged you by your lockers, all trying to get their books at the same time. I think of you and I think of the people you loved, and who loved you.

I think of you and I think of all these things. Dear -----, you are a beautiful gift of God. A beautiful blonde haired gift. My heart needs you to know this.

Thankful.

I am thankful.
For my corner chair
At BiggyB
And Bekah.

For friendships.
For weekends
And roadtrips
And frisbee games.

For my church.
For Crossroads
And worship
And fellowship.

For women.
For our connection.
Our communication.
Our heart for each other.

For laughter.
For for sunny days.
For the lake.
And waterskis.

I am thankful.
For my family.
For for my place.
For my faith.

A Living God.

So tonight, an adult questioned me about my testimony, specifically about a 'spiritual realm' experience. At the end of the conversation, the man was still professional and polite, but I could tell he was uncomfortable with stories of demons and angels and living life in communion with the Spirit. This man was a Christian. We parted ways and I left empowered, annoyed, and vibrant.

And what struck me most was the reality that:

I serve a Living God.

He is not a God left in the pages of a book. Or simply to be prayed to. Or caught on the context of sermons. [Though he is in all of these.] Or to be seen as a separate identity from the movements of the world today…

He is a God who moves. Who lives. Who breathes. Who IS.

I see it in Acts of the First Church. In the Epistles words. In the stories of the people at my church. In my walking testimony. I my cousin’s experiences. In my prayer life. In incidents of drunk drivers. In the coming together of marraige of my friends.

This God is not done.

I am thankful that he is not done.

That he is a Living God.

[Perhaps I'm way off base... but I have these ideas, this completely non-authoritative theory…. As I teach, I am learning a lot about God. I see his work as the Father, the “God” figure in the Old Testament; concentrating on his laws, judgements, overseeing plan. Then I see the focus shift more to Jesus in the New Testament, aspecting the act of the redemption through this Son third of God. Focusing on his New Covenant, redeeming the people, living amongst the poor, being of mercy, and saving the sins of humankind, overturning the curse of the Old Testament. [The cross wasn't used as a symbol of Christianity until 400 A.D., and though it is central to the Christian faith, the first church focused on the ressurection. ] So my theory then, is that God the Father is still completely active. God the Son is still present and saving and putting to darkness our sin. But perhaps now, we are in the third spanse of the Holy Spirit. That the focus is less on the overseeing God, less on the weight of sin, and more on the movement of the Spirit in our lives today. The other two presences of God are complete still alive and active and necessary…. but I wonder if the role of the Holy Spirit claims a more unique presense...?]

I am learning.

I’m learning. To be aware, to be prepared, to be eye-opened. To know that the Devil is lurking for footholds. I am learning that as each encouragement comes, or each impassionated conversation or moment… that almost always it is followed with Satan’s finger tips. Trying to discourage me, cause me doubt, tweak in any form possible. I am learning to look for it, warn myself ahead of time, and identify any sign of Satans fingertips in my life. Especially at those moments where God was just obvious.

Like today, I am aware that it is Satan causing frustration with my chaotic lesson plans. That he is trying to get me to question my job as a teacher. That he is using entertainment and dating and body-concept and anything else possible to cause a leak in my heart.

Lord, let me stand tall. Let your walls of protection be built stronger and stronger. Give me the tools to identify the Devil, but also the community that fights with me. Let me stand tall.

Goodness.

So I feel like I've written a lot of heavy posts in here, so I thougth I'd do a light one :)

Yesterday was goodness.

Danielle and I woke up, chilled, made a good breakfast.
Went to the Fulton Street Farmers Market for peppers, blueberries, raspberries, bread...
Got Starbucks in East Grand Rapids, walked along the streets.
Checked out books at the library and read on benches by Reeds Lake.
Sauntered along. Dipped our feet in the water.
Ate pasta salad, mahi, curry, and root chips at Roses.
Saw my old friends and fimilar faces...
Relaxed at home [plus some school work]
Met friends for ice cream.
Chilled with them for a movie, and long talks.

Wow. That is goodness. 72 degrees and sunny. :)
Thanks God.

"As you go..."

The actual translation of "go" in the Great Commission is "as you go." I heard this several years ago from a pastor and it has transformed my view of the work of discipleship. Think of it now in this context:

Therefore, AS YOU GO make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you..." [Matthew 28:19-20]

I have had some interesting thought and conversations on this in the last few years... In "Just Like Jesus" Max Lucado writes about how Jesus had a focused heart. He didn't try to do 90 million things, he simply lived to make disciples. I was talking with my friend Emily about this today, and we remarked about how he didn't look for people to heal or places to give speeches, but instead, as he journeyed, he healed and spoke and loved. And he didn't attempt to heal every person that he saw was sick - which I'm sure was many - or correct everyone's misconceptions of the law. He simply lived and the outpouring of his life were things trickes of miracles, though he purposefully surrounded himself with the 12 and dove into them, creating them to be apostles.

I think of this also in geographical terms. Now days it seems to be a 'badge of honor' or a 'rite of passage' for people, especially in their college/20s, to travel. We pride ourselves and market ourselves based on our vast experiences. We deem ourselves 'greater' for stepping into so many lands, sometimes for leisure, sometimes for missions, sometimes for business. However, I look at the life of Jesus and I see that he again, had a focused heart. He didn't travel to China to spread the word, though certaintly people lived there already. Or Ethiopia. Or Spain. Or anywhere else on his Rick Steeves Guidebook. Instead, he mostly stayed around the Judeah countryside. He could have taken his word and his message and tried to jot off everywhere, catchinig each camel that passed for a ride. But instead as he went, he made disciples. The outpouring was the rich lives these disciples of every nation brought back to their own countries.
Now, don't get me wrong. We need international missionaries. We need people to step out of there boxes and literally GO to other lands, cultures, regions, people groups. But perhaps some of us also must stay "home" and make disciples as we live here.

I think about this in terms of my roommate, Young Life, church, my mom, and a woman named Linda from my church. These people are teaching me what it means to make disciples as I go. In my head, I will actually care about missions once I am in Kenya or a Young Life camp or some other capacity, but to bring Jesus to RiverRun [my condo] is awkward and weird. I am so wrong.
My roommate Danielle invites friends to church, speaks about God, and is teaching me what it is like to be a suburban contemporary who bears the fruit in the circles of friendships. Young Life leaders grasp my attention as I think of them hanging out at soccer games and just chilling with people to show Jesus through their love and relationship. My mom has people over for tea or invites the neighborhood kids to play; she brings Bible games to Monday night activities and lives discipleship as she goes. Linda rides her bikes and waves to people; after several days of seeing the same person, eventually she has them over for coffee and forms relationships, sharing the gospel as she does it. As they go. I see these suburban people put me to shame.

So it doesn't mean I'm not still ready most moments to jet off on a plane and make ministry the #1 on some other country. Here, in GR, it seems I get distracted much more easily with work and life tasks and I put "ministry" in a compartment... But I am learning. I am watching and observing my friends, reading about Jesus' life, and trying to process what it means for me to make disciples as I go.

A final epilogue on this... Emily and I were talking about social justice and the use/term tossed around so frequently these days. I am passionate about social justice. I believe if Jesus were here today, he would also see these things happen. The prophet Isaiah writes about these concerns in his Chapters 57-58... But I also wonder if perhaps, as Christians, a few of us are so caught in the actual social justice matters, that we are in it more for the relief of others than the discipleship. Jesus made disciples. Knowing God was his number one. My church stresses this and I love that! Social justice and relief work should be the outpouring of our knowing God, but still second to him. Lets clothe the sick, bring the AIDS meds, sit with the elderly... but let our motivation be rooted in a relationship with the Savior.

Flipped Upside Down

I was reading this morning from Philip Yancey's "The Jesus I Never Knew" and was struck by the beautitudes, once again. This mentality of life flipped upside down. Of living the opposite of the American dream. But what hit me the most was his recollection that Mother Teresa herself spent sixteen years teaching the elite of the elite in Calcutta before disabling her life and living with the poor.
The book section speaks of Yancey's interactions with the "rich & famous" in contradiction with the "poor and destitute" and the people who have taken their PhDs to serve them. It is an interesting paradox, for sure, of the contrast and the state of the people. He remarks that celebrities often are the most miserable lot. But the Amazon doctors, the Chicago homeless shelter directors, the AIDS clinic volunteers, and the countless others who have chosen to life a life devoted to giving of themselves, are those who are most peace. Who feel the intensity of their call and fulfillment.
What I wonder is: how does one take all these faculties of life and be so surrendered that they walk away from it all?
I want to be this type of person. Who lets go of my amazingly cushioned bed and load of pillows, of my soup and bread at Panera, of my music playlists intricately picked on my ipod, and my family days on Lake Michigan with nothing but the boat underneath us dividing us from the waves... The type of person who lets it all go with reckless abandon and takes that Brennan Manning "Ruthless Trust" step to really live, serve, and give.
I think of people who challenge me with a life well-livid. My Granny Smith. Kevin Prins who, after 16 years as a carpenter, packed up his family and moved to minister in Barbados. Of Ed & Christie Miedema and their family transferring life from the States to Haiti back and forth to minister and give and live in both. Of my grandpa who gave so generously of his wealth without others knowing. Of my missionary friends in the Philippines, Kenya, and all over. Of people who open their houses without notice and let people stay who need a place of peace for a time. Of the Boiler Room and other prayer houses in downtown Grand Rapids and the people there who grant access into their community and follow the paths of the unknown. And of the countless others who have lived sacrificially in other ways.
How does one learn this giving? How does one completely let go off all their possessions, their lifestyle, their native culture? I recognize this is an attitude and a soul spirit, more than the actual context of living, but still, it challenges me.
So, Mother Teresa. Lived with the lavish, lived with the lepers. But in every mark it seems, she lived a life well lived.
What does this mean for me? For us? How can we/I live a life well lived in this moment, this space of time, this context and geographical area? What does this mean for the future? How much courage, risk, and disassemblement is involved?

~~~
I must add and strongly note here, that I believe it is important to mention that Jesus was not ONLY with the oppressed. He devoted much of his time and the stories of the gospel miracles to them, but he also had friends who were rich, business women who funded his ministry, and saved people on the Sanhedrin. I think this point is necessary to make because I find, in some context, it seems we limit Jesus' life to only caring about he oppressed and in our modern society, we label a hierarchy of giving as missions in this Christian walk as such. But there are also many who are elite or intellectuals or wealthy who are needed also in this kingdom. I think of Ravi Zacharias who fuels the intellect and challenges the apologetics of the intellectuals, and Henri Nouwen who does the same at Harvard. Of Presidents and Kings and Rulers who have impacted for the good. Of businessmen who impact their social circles and work with integrity. Of friends of mine who make good money supporting non-profits, or send others to med-school and overseas with their earnings. It is easy for me to chastise the wealthy want to throw my own stones [though in many respects, I am one of them], so I add this postscript to diffuse the belief that only the poor are worth loving. We are all worth loving. Its just that it challenges my way of thinking and living to see what some people do in their loving.