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Sunday, November 22, 2009

Of Nuclear Warheads and Suicide Bombers


With this post I will effectively annihilate any future chance I have of becoming involved in American politics.  

The other day I was thinking about nuclear weapons.  And instead of pondering how soon they will be falling upon my city and my subsequent contingency plans (As is my usual custom), my brain turned to ethics.  I wondered why the United States was never tried for war crimes after dropping the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  On August 6th and 9th, 1945 two bombs were dropped in two cities, killing 80,000 people in Hiroshima (140,000 total counting radiation related deaths) and 74,000 people in Nagasaki (A couple of hundred thousand more due to radiation) effectively ending the war.  

I understand that death tolls of this sort are nothing new in modern warfare and that conventionally firebombing Tokyo itself caused around 100,000 civilian deaths.  Yet I pause when I consider the calculation that must have gone into this momentous bombing and the foreknowledge that hundreds of thousands of civilians would die.

At first I wondered if this event would fall under genocide.  Surely there have been those even in recent history who have been prosecuted for rounding up civilians and killing them in a time of war such as in Kosovo and Bosnia.  Yet after talking to my brother, we decided that the atomic blasts would not meet the definition of genocide because they were not targeted at eradicating a certain ethnic group simply because they were Japanese, but because they were at war with us.  (I wonder if this would change if those who planned the attacks hated Japanese people?... Which it is quite possible most Americans did at the time...)  

The argument goes that it was justified to kill all of these civilians because it effectively ended the war and saved many more lives than were taken by the blasts.  Using a Utilitarian ethic, this makes sense.  We kill a couple hundred thousand people to save 500,000 or a million.  The greatest good for the greatest amount of people.  Yet allow me to pose a thought experiment.  

Currently in Pakistan the Pakistani military is undertaking a major offensive against the Taliban in Southern Waziristan.  Meanwhile, the Taliban are attempting to break the political and popular support of the offensive by engaging in numerous suicide bombings targeting military officials and civilians, often detonating explosives in crowded markets.  There is a chance, as has happened before, that the military will call off the attacks under pressure and make a peace treaty with the Taliban. ("We won't bother you if you stop bombing us")  My question is, if the Taliban succeed in stopping the Pakistani fighting through the use of suicide bombers, will they be justified in killing civilians?  Many more Pakistani and Taliban lives would be saved than the number of civilians killed in suicide bombings if the fighting stopped.  The greatest good for the greatest amount of people right?   

So who are more justified? Atomic Bombers? Or Suicide Bombers?    

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Eating (Or Not Eating) For Others

Our house church recently went on a weekend retreat at our family's cabin where we spent 3 days relaxing, discussing, playing Farkle, and hearing one another's stories.  A very moving moment was when one of our community members shared about her struggle with a medical condition she has had her entire life and the constant battle and mental energy taken to counteract its effects through extreme diet and life changes.  After sharing her story some of the members of the group decided to stand in solidarity with her and experience her diet.  I went shopping with my wife the other day at the grocery store to prepare for the diet and was surprised at how rigorous the diet actually was.  She couldn't eat any meat, dairy, wheat, gluten, sugar, caffeine, or alcohol.   75% of what she eats is supposed to be Raw. (uncooked)  And she is supposed to eat a lot of fiber which translates for her into eating ground flax seeds and fiber meal.  (Yum!)  

To be honest, I told Marta that I don't think I could do this for a month.  I am kind of finicky when it comes to food and in general have a hard time sacrificing or changing my daily routines for others.  But I am both proud and envious of my wife's commitment to her friend.  I am positive that this is a perfect picture of the kingdom of God and beautifully illustrates the love and commitment we should strive to have for one another.  So I will let Marta know that even though I am taunting her from across the table with a piece of chocolate or some savory steak and good wine, I greatly respect her.  

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

The Kingdom is Among You

Sadly, the neighbors across the alley have moved away.  (See "Bad Neighbors" post from May)  But before they did, something quite incredible happened.  Marta was working in the garden one day when the boys from across the alley came out to help her.  As they were working the boys began talking about the other children who lived on the block and asking Marta why they never play with them.  Marta reminded them of the time that the paintings, which had been hung in the alley by our landlords, had been slashed with a knife suspiciously after a large fight with the landlords over trespassing.  She explained how the Landlords were very hurt and angry over this event and told their granddaughter that she could not play with them which in turn caused the parents of her friends to not allow their children to play with the boys either.   The boys were distraught, claiming that it was their cousin who had slashed the paintings, and asked Marta what they could do to change the situation.   Marta suggested that they could write apology letters to the landlords.  The boys instantly became excited and jumped on the opportunity, running up to our apartment to trace their hands and color pieces of paper that would transmit their repentance and hopefully forgiveness.  When they were done, Marta had the boys deliver the letters to our landlords and to their surprise they were able to talk to the landlord face to face and explain themselves.  After a short lecture and clarifying of the rules the two parties shook hands and parted, at least in part, reconciled.  

I have been amazed recently at how the kingdom of God shows up in the most unexpected places.  Jesus himself taught that it will not come with "careful observation" but that it is among us.  We often try to create the Kingdom of God through movements or programs but it is when we are simply loving people and being the people of God that some of the greatest stories come from.  Subsequently, I have never been more proud of my wife.  I see in her a true citizen of the kingdom.  

Monday, June 8, 2009

Vignette of a Marriage

Yesterday Billy and I began celebrating our first anniversary. Since we were married twice within one week, the festivities will not be limited to just one day, but we kicked them off in grand style by having dinner at our favorite restaurant in St. Paul and looking back at the first 365 days of our marriage. When Billy asked about my most significant memory, it was not our honeymoon in Greece or surprise weekend at a Victorian Bed & Breakfast...

One night a few months ago, we were lying in bed about to fall asleep, but my heart was troubled with a lingering heaviness. "I don’t know if we’re still connecting like we used to" – I finally said out loud.

Billy must have been tired, but he turned towards me and asked me to say more – what made me feel that way? How were things different than before? I struggled to put my finger on just what it was that troubled me in that vulnerable hour before sleep and followed a few rabbit trails. "I don’t know" – I finally said. "Maybe it’s just that I wonder if we still really see each other... I worry that maybe we’ve grown so used to each other that we only see shadows made up of what we expect to see instead of the real person?"

There was a brief silence, and I grew worried that I’d hurt him with my words or unnecessarily raised his anxiety about the condition of our relationship, and I wished I hadn’t said anything at all. Silly, emotional woman. Of course we’re ok, how dare I wonder – we have a great relationship, why would I ever jeopardize it with silly nighttime worries that I can’t even figure out myself?

Then his soft voice in the silence... Open. Unafraid. Undefensive.

"Is there something you wish that I were noticing about you, sweetie?"

I lay there wide-eyed as these words crossed the silence, tearing up as soon as they reached me.

Instead of moving away, Billy moved towards me. In doing that, he opened some hidden dam that now stood wide open – as open as the stream of tears on my face while I considered his question.

"No, Billy. I think it’s just that I haven’t even been noticing who I am these days. I’m so busy that I don’t even look inside anymore, and I feel so foreign and uninteresting to myself when I’m finally quiet."

Our conversation that night stands out in my memory in a different way than the others – it wasn’t planned, it just happened in the midst of the daily stress of life while neither of us was prepared, rested or Sunday best. It was an unexpected moment of vulnerability, and even in that unguarded moment, Billy's first instinct was to move towards me rather than away from me; to be for me rather than against me; to really hear me rather than build up a defense against the potential danger of my words. What I find supremely ironic is that if he did become defensive or anxious, something completely unrelated to the condition of our marriage would have probably become all about it. I have a feeling that this is precisely how conflict and misunderstanding take root in most intimate relationships. Experiences like that late night conversation have rooted in me a lasting sense of peace and security. It means more to me than I can explain to know without a doubt in my very inmost being that Billy is truly, deeply for me. And that, more than anything else, cuts to the core of my fierce love for the man I married 366 days ago.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Bad Neighbors

There are new neighbors across the alley.  The kind that swear, make lewd comments towards women, don't care if their garbage overflows into the alley and into other's property, and who have a number of 10 minute visitors who always have someone waiting in the car with the car running.  We can hear the parents screaming at the kids and see the kids roaming the streets at all hours feasting on junk food and candy.  Our landlords have entered into an old fashioned feud with them after they were found jumping on the Landlord's trailer and subsequently banned from the abandoned lot they had made into a playground, which required police involvement to get them off the property.  In retribution for this banishing the children slashed about 10 paintings that the landlords had displayed in the alley.  Currently, the landlords have forbidden their children from playing with the "bad kids" and are trying to find a way to get them out of the neighborhood.  

Marta and I have befriended two of the children and have had them help us with our garden that is on the land that they were kicked out from.  They are definitely some rowdy kids but can be respectful and helpful.  At a recent neighborhood party we attended we were talking with the landlord and they were talking about how horrible the neighbors were and how they had found out that the owner of the property did not have a renting license and they were in danger of being evicted soon.  I made an empathetic statement regarding how horrible that would be for the family to be kicked out so soon and the landlord returned with the reply, "well it would be good for us!"  I did not say it at the time (I wish I would have) but in my head I was thinking that it probably isn't good for us in the grand scheme of things.  

Everyone seems to want bad neighbors out of THEIR neighborhood and few people actually want to take the time to love them and try to help them be better neighbors.  I wonder if it actually helps us to push out everyone in the neighborhood who is an inconvenience or who have issues and leave ourselves with people who look just like us and don't require anything from us.  It may "help" us in the short run, but robs us of opportunities to grow and become children of God, bringers of peace and wholeness.

I agree that the landlord of these neighbors could be considered a slum lord- a landlord who is never present and never cares for their properties, but slumlords have a purpose in this society.  They provide housing for people who otherwise wouldn't be able to find it due to past evictions, felonies, or inability to speak english.  Otherwise these people would end up on the streets.  The (understandable) problem is that nobody wants to be near a slumlord's property because of the trouble that it brings.  But if no one takes the stand to invest in these people, there will never be any change and their cycles of poverty and issues will continue.  

Monday, May 25, 2009

Good News

As of Tuesday of last week, I have a new job. Calvary Church is one of our favorite spots in all Minneapolis, so when they announced an opening for a newly designed administrative and communications role, I did not wait long to apply - the perspective of biking to work at a place with the kind of impact on our community that this church has seemed almost too good to be real! Calvary is not only one of the few truly multi-cultural and multi-ethnic churches in this state where Sunday morning is still the most segregated hour of the week - it is a community of mature, glad-hearted followers of Jesus who strive to be messengers of justice and good news right here in our neighborhood.

One of the perks of my new job, which some half-jokingly call a crucible, is that I get to work alongside of Calvary's pastor. Jeff has served this particular congregation for the last 24 years, ever since his graduation from seminary, and he might just be one of the most outgoing people you've ever met. He is loud, uproarious and passionate for his flock. He can soothe a crying toddler and fix a broken boiler as well as he can preach, and he knows the name of every single person who raises their hand during our weekly ritual of offering God our praise, pain and protest.

On my second or third day on the job, a woman from the neighborhood walked into our office asking for help. Her weary face reflected a lifetime of struggle and much pain, but she did not come in asking for money. A week since deciding to quit smoking, she had just found out that she has lung cancer. What she came for was for someone to soothe her and tell her that not all was lost. As we sat down, she was so choked up with anxiety that she could barely breathe. "I try my best to trust God" - she said between short, shallow breaths - "but I'm afraid this is His punishment."

Just by the time I managed to soothe her enough to breathe normally, Jeff returned to the office from a short errand and sat down with us. I knew he was having a busy day so I expected a quick prayer and a pat on the back - something like "God is in control of everything and you should just trust Him" - but his response to the woman was nothing like that. "This is not the end, sister" - he told her, "This is an invitation to a new beginning." He told her that she is God's beloved daughter - that God does not look at her as a punishing Judge, but as a compassionate Father. He told her that she needs God's people around her to help her through this time, and to help her see herself through God's eyes which are so different than the condemning eyes of this world. He told her that this time was an invitation from God to enter into a deeper relationship with Him where she would find lasting peace. His words carried no hint of shaming or judgment - they sounded like surprisingly Good News.

Good News - that is the literal meaning of the biblical word "Gospel." In the experience of too many, including myself, "Gospel" has come to mean anything but that - it has in fact become news of sin, condemnation, inadequacy and shame. If you're not a Christian, the "Gospel" message is that you're an abomination in God's eyes. If you are, you should be ashamed of yourself for not preaching the "Gospel" to all the lost sinners you know.

Sin, condemnation and shame are all an inevitable part of our reality on this planet - but Jeff's words reminded me that this is precisely the reality that Jesus came to rescue us from. And if that is the Good News of the Gospel, I might actually want to tell someone about it... In fact, I might actually want to hear it myself over and over again!

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Auto Therapy



Recently, I started volunteering at a local auto mechanic shop that Marta and I had been taking our cars to. About a month ago I asked the owner of the shop if it would be ok if I came by to just hang out and watch as they fixed cars and possibly learn a thing or two. The mechanics were a little perplexed because this was the first time anyone had ever made such a request but they quizzically agreed to my offer in return for helping out where I could. Their only question was whether my virgin ears could stand the amount of swearing I would encounter, to which I replied that they had been deflowered long ago. The first day I was greeted with the proclamation that "The crazy guy is here" but was fairly quickly introduced to the mechanics and taken under their wing.

I came into the shop letting them know that I knew absolutely nothing about cars or how to fix them and that I was here to learn. I had been sick of being at the mercy of corrupt auto mechanics who could tell me anything they wanted to and I would have to believe them and pay ridiculous amounts of money to them. I also thought that it might be nice to save some money by learning how to do simple repairs on my own aging automobile. My first day at the shop the guys taught me how to do an oil change and fix a break light. (I felt so empowered with a sense of accomplishment!)

I have found, however, that after a month of volunteering the greater reason I go is for my own therapy. I have found that in working with people change is often a painstakingly slow process if it happens at all. As a therapist one cannot simply "fix" people. Even if change is accomplished there is no guarantee that your work will not unravel with the next week's stressor. With cars, if you see a problem, you can fix it and the job is done. There comes a real sense of accomplishment that does not easily come with working with people. This is my therapy. I have found that it is balancing for me to be involved with something that progresses and can be easily judged as "accomplished".

Even on the days when I do not do much at the shop, it still feels healing to be there. I take in deep breathes of oil fumes and listen to stories of how the mechanics have burned their eyebrows off or been injured in the war. I feel that I have retreated from the world of pain and chronic family dysfunction for at least a few hours during my week.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Makarios



μακάριος (makarios): blessed, fortunate, happy

It is one of the ironies of my existence that just when I come to live in the Land of Streets Paved With Gold, as we imagined it in my childhood, America enters into its greatest recession since the 1930s. For the last couple of months, hardly a day has gone by without some bad news: foreclosures, bankruptcies, bailouts, record-high unemployment, plummeting GDP - judging by the tones of some experts on the radio, an economic Armageddon. We have not been affected as severely as others, being that we're both young and have no stake in the stock market; but it's sobering to watch how deeply this crisis bites into the hopes and financial futures of many people we know. 

As analysts continue to predict doom and gloom, we continue as a house church in our meditation on the Sermon on the Mount - a radical reversal of the idea of who is really well off in the first place. Recently, Billy led us in a discussion of the fourth Beatitude - "blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled." As with all the Beatitudes, this one in particular makes me wonder at times whether Jesus forgot to point out some mysterious connection. Blessed are those who see the endless destruction, corruption and exploitation? Who notice the abused kids, discriminated minorities, battered women, hypocritical preachers; the ravaged earth, cycles of poverty and trampled human dignity - who see these things clearly enough to cry out for justice? 
 
"Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise" - I thought to myself recently at Disneyworld, where all I could see at one point were the tons of disposable plastic disappearing at the magical touch of minimum-wage "cast members" after being thrown away by crowds who had just stepped off the "Living with the Earth" ride featuring eco-friendly fish farms and sustainable crops. Do you see yet why I haven't blogged in a while? When all you see in "the happiest place on earth" is plastic, you begin to wonder... 

I will admit that I do not come at the Beatitudes as a clean slate - they have always made me extremely uncomfortable. I think it started when I was a little girl and sometimes heard the Bible interpreted  in ways which implied that God is so entirely different from us that His  definitions of good or evil might actually be the opposite of ours - so in God's view, I might actually be "blessed" by being utterly miserable. When you are five years old and hear of a good God who orders the Canaanite men, women and children slain without mercy, textual criticism does not exactly emerge as a possible solution - either the good God or the definition of goodness has to go. Parting with the latter seemed like the choice of a lesser of two evils, and although I gave up this dichotomy a long time ago, it still surfaces as a haunting suspicion that may just lie beneath the surface of all conscious sin - "God, are you really good?" 

Imagine my amazement, then, when no one in house church ever brought any of this up. I sat there waiting for somebody else to voice my suspicion, but it never came - what came instead 
was a collective insight so simple and brilliant that my suspicion suddenly appeared like the whining of a disgruntled teenager. Of course those who hunger and thirst for righteousness are filled - their appetites are directed towards a healthy and nutritious kind of food, as opposed to empty fast-food calories. The gods of Greed, Consumerism and Security, rooted in the ancient lie of self-serving gain, are gods all right - but gods with no power to fill or save. This is one of my favorite aspects of doing theology as a community - thanks to the company of others on the journey, I'm able to discover my own slant and hidden prejudice, and be faced once again with the unimaginable reality of a God who really desires to give me hope and genuine abundance, even in the midst of crisis. 

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Render Unto Ceasar


Marta and I recently watched the movie "Syriana".  It is a film about the corruption that comes with America's pursuit and dependence on oil, illustrating the convoluted interconnectedness between the oil companies, politicians, the CIA, oil Sheiks, energy analysts, lawyers, and ordinary Arabs caught up into terrorism.  The film left me with a sense of powerlessness, feeling that this problem is so big and complex that there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.  What made me feel even more powerless was the thought that the people who are in these positions of corruption and power are not even afraid of this movie.  If they really felt threatened by this film, it would have never been made.  The thing is that they know as well as I know that the entire nation could see this movie and come out of the theatre saying, "Wow, our system is really corrupt, oh well, nothing we can do about it, unless we want to give up what we have."  

There is a quote in the movie by a lawyer who is being sacrificed up to the public as a scapegoat to appear that the system is actually fighting corruption, he states, "corruption is what makes all of this possible, corruption is what keeps us safe and warm instead of fighting for scraps on the street".  Our standard of living is supported by these activities all across the globe.  If it weren't for the CIA, oil companies, and politicians meddling in world affairs, we wouldn't be able to have cheap gasoline or heating, or have as much money to buy inexpensive electronics (which would then be expensive electronics).  Everything would be harder to come by, raising prices and driving many of the superfluous or luxury goods and services (that we have gotten used to) out of business.  It is kind of like having a drug dealer for a father.  You don't really want to call the police on him because he is the one paying for all of your food, clothing, and video games.  Without him, you would be in poverty, or at least not able to buy all the cool stuff you have now.  

I used to be really obsessed with conspiracy theories and wanting to uncover them and fight against them.  A couple of years ago, my friends and I were serving coffee on the street and I remember talking to this homeless guy who was telling me all about who was behind the Kennedy assassination and how it was really the Defense Department's Intelligence Agency or something and he strung a pretty convincing web of facts and connections, but at the end of it I looked at him and said, "The powerful will always be corrupt but I follow the laws of a different kingdom".  Basically, "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's".  

I don't discount the efforts of those in government fighting against corruption and attempting to bring justice to the system.  I just believe that the greatest change will be brought about by planting small mustard seeds that eventually work their way through the cracks of the concrete above.  Inviting my neighbor over for breakfast, speaking truth and healing into the lives of those I love, caring for the poor and the sick, living simply with the knowledge of how the distribution of resources affects others, freeing myself from the idols of consumerism and militarism. This lifestyle brings change and works its way like yeast through kneaded bread.  

Some would take issue with me at the moment and accuse me of playing right into the hands of the powerful, enabling them to continue to get rich off the blood of others.  I understand and empathize with this sentiment, yet I believe there will come a time when they are judged for their deeds, but I will trust in one more powerful than I to do that judging.  Meanwhile the powerful are the ones who are fighting for the scraps of power on the floor, unaware that there is real food to be had at the kingdom feast, the appetizers of which we can enjoy now.  

Yet I am not so sure that the powerful of this world should be entirely unafraid of those who plant mustard seeds.  There is a quote in "The Brothers Karamazov" by a French intelligence officer, rounding up and arresting socialists. "We are not afraid of all these socialists, anarchists, atheists, and revolutionaries.  We keep an eye on them, and their movements are known to us.  But there are some special people among them, although not many: these are believers in God and Christians, and at the same time socialists.  They are the ones we are most afraid of; they are terrible people!  A socialist Christian is more dangerous than a socialist atheist."   One has to think... Why was Jesus put to death? :)


Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Ripples

A long time ago there was a man who lost a great deal of money in the stock market. He became depressed and started to drink, neglecting his own family and treating his children as worthless. The man's son grows older and marries, seeing himself as worthless and in turn treating his wife as he feels, degrading her as often as he can. One day the wife cheats on her husband because she finds someone who treats her with desire and admiration. The man in his sadness and hurt turns to alcohol to soothe his pain, just as he had seen his father do. One day as he is driving while intoxicated, he crashes into a van carrying a family, killing a mother and her two children, but leaving the father alive. This father, destroyed by the loss of what was most precious to him lashes out in rage and jealousy at those who still have children, to the point of kidnapping another's child and killing it. The parents of the kidnapped child sink into despair and numb their pain with Methanphetamines. The drug takes control of their reasoning, they become oversexualized and begin neglecting and sexually abusing their other children. One of their boys grows to be 14 and in his pain and battle against powerlessness rapes a neighbor child for offending him. The neighbor boy's mother cannot handle the guilt that she was unable to protect her son and turns to drugs herself. The boy is removed from the home, placed in foster care and ends up in a session with me.

I ask myself, who is to blame for this? Who should pay for the injustice done to my client? Is it the boy who raped him? Or the boys' parents who abused him? Or the kidnapper? How far back do we go? In an amazing session, my client's mother was talking about how she felt tremendous anger over what happened and wanted to kill the boy who raped her son, but then she softened, and said that she also felt compassion on him because she knew that in order to do this, some incredible hurt must have been done to him.

Recently, I was driving home with a strong hatred in my heart for those who have done evil to my clients and the many victims in the world. The hatred was so strong that I wanted to take justice into my own hands and kill those responsible for evil. Two recent and unexpected sources have opened my eyes to the place of hurt in the evils of this world; the book, "The Shack" and the children's book/movie "The Tale of Despereaux". Both struggle with the problem of evil from a creative and empathetic stance, realizing the complexities of the human heart. The frightening truth is that none of us are immune to deep hurt or beyond the possibility of making unloving choices as a result of this hurt.

While I believe that at each stage of the story I have described, each individual had a choice to make, I cannot help but feel more compassion and understanding for the hurt driving the decisions made. I only hope that there is a light more powerful than this strain of darkness, a redemption more glorious than the fall. I know that within my client lies the opportunity to end the darkness, and with God's help maybe someday...

My client grows to forgive the boy who hurt him and chooses to end the cycle of gaining power over others or being stepped on by others, but learns a third way of giving power to others in wisdom and trust and caring for power given. Maybe he will even become a counselor one day and help other children who have been abused. A child that he counsels learns that she is not worthless or permanently stained, goes on to marry and have children, giving her children the childhood and the love that she never experienced. Her children grow up safe and with compassion towards others. Her son travels across the world to work in a refugee camp in a war torn country. He brings healing to those who have been raped, sold into slavery, and have witnessed terrible atrocities. One boy that he rescues from slavery grows up to commit his life to freeing others from slavery and leads a movement of people to crack down on slave traders. An article is written about this man in a newspaper far away, and it is read by another man who recently lost a large sum in the stock market, causing him to put down his glass of whiskey.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Beyond Critique

A terrifying thought has recently occurred to me. The kind of thought that makes one wonder if the ground they are standing upon is really there or if they are who they believe themselves to be. Recently, Marta and I have been pondering examples in our life of individuals or groups claiming that they are following the will of God. The scary thing is that once someone or a group of people claim that what they are doing is the will of God, they are guaranteed an air tight, waterproof theological barrier around their actions.

For example. Let us say that there is a plot of swamp land down the street selling for really cheap and I am looking to build a house. I spend some time in prayer and ask God if I should buy the land or not (I really want to, it is such a good deal). And then, I discern that God says yes. First of all, no one has any real good reason to deny my claims because there is nothing in his "general will" or revelation against buying swampland. One could maybe bring up that it is not very wise to buy swampland and will be very difficult to build a house but then I would counter that I am the wise one here for getting such a great deal. (I would also say that it worked for Walt Disney :) )

Now let's say that I go to build my house and it turns out that I need to haul in extra rock and soil to lay a solid foundation in the swamp or the house will sink. This puts me back an extra $40,000 but in the grand scheme of things, I am still coming out on top. This is what we would call a "test of faith" or a "trial/tribulation" which could come from God or from Satan trying to throw me off of this amazing blessing God has for us. Then another snag. I find I need to buy a special sewer system for the house that will put me over the amount I would have spent on a house on a normal piece of land. I start to have doubts at this point whether this was a good idea, but they are fleeting and I am at this point, too commited to turn back, besides I have already told my church and all my friends that this is the will of God and my entire reputation would be ruined if I said that I was wrong.

So I keep going. I start to build my house, but it turns out that the foundation I laid wasn't good enough and part of it sinks leaving me with a pretty crooked frame. So I have to pay more money to place more rocks into the foundation and fix the frame again. Clearly, a test of my faith. I have to take out a second mortgage on the house and get another job to pay for it. A friend of mine asks me if I still think it was God's will for me to build this house. First I tell him that I will pray for his lack of faith and secondly, that following God's will is worth more than any amount of money. God judges success not by human standards but by his own standards right?

Now, this story could end in a couple of different ways. 1.) I end up completing the house and have a pretty nice house that cost me twice as much as any other comparable house on the market. I also have the satisfaction of following God's will to completion.
2.) I go into bankruptcy and lose the home. I either blame those brief moments of doubting I had earlier or say that this was merely a test that God had put me through to make sure that I would follow him 100%.

What concerns me here is that there is often not a possibility for someone to admit they are wrong about discerning God's will. Once it has been announced or decided that this is God's will, it seems like it pretty much has to be carried out to completion regardless of the outcome. There is not a lot of grace in our culture for someone who admits that they were wrong, both from others and towards themselves. This individual would face the ruin of their reputation, and mockery from others as well as lose confidence in their own level of faith and ability to discern god's will. But, who am I to say? Maybe there are some times when God does want me to build on a swamp. Yet I suspect there are a lot of people out there building on swamps that don't have to be.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Breadmaking


Just moments ago, I pulled two loaves of absolutely beautiful homemade bread out of the oven. The delicious smell has been slowly filling every nook and cranny of the Stork's Nest, and now they are finally ready - tall, golden and well-rounded, by far my best looking loaves ever. I'm still looking at them in choked-up astonishment.

If you've ever tried to bake bread, you probably know that it is no simple affair. In fact, my own first attempts always ended up in sullen frustration - the bread would most typically not rise like it was supposed to, yet I would try to bake it anyway, and the result usually resembled a brick rather than bread. I think it was just tonight that I finally put my finger on the secret... As so many brilliant conclusions, it dawned upon me by accident. As I was making the dough, I miscalculated how much time I had until Billy and I were leaving for dinner at our friend's house, so I had no time to bake it and had to leave it alone for a couple of hours. When we came home, the dough had actually doubled - just like it said in the recipe! It had been there in the cookbooks all along; I just never really believed it. In my impatience to finally taste a real sandwich - a desire only augmented by the local prevalence of yucky imitations of the Wonderbread sort - I quickly concluded that the dough was ready to go and tried to rush the delicate process. What I got in return were dense bricks - perhaps still wholesome and nutritious, as Billy c0mpassionately reminded me, but nothing like the deliciously fluffy wonders that came out of the oven tonight.

I'm sure I've made many other discoveries like this one and soon forgot their impact, but this one stands out as an image for a vague inkling that's been with me for some time. The struggle to wait seems like a common malady of our "microwave society." We are impatient to grow up, to get a degree, to get married; impatient for the various pieces of our lives to come together, for pain to make sense, for churches to grow, for the Kingdom of God to come. If things don't happen like we'd hope, we often conclude that the dough needs some speeding up - so we rush through childhood, graduate early, put band-aids over wounds, borrow marketing strategies from business or try to take over the government. Meanwhile, the organism of God's Kingdom operates on an independent schedule - like yeast rising when the cook is away or a seed growing in the soil regardless of whether the farmer is looking. The kind of bread that I long for - as well as the kind of marriage, friendship, community - grows in effortless mystery, but not without my effort of faithful waiting. The beautiful part? Once I give in to the present moment, the bread grows peacefully on its own while I flirt with Billy, notice the full moon on the way to our friend's house and enjoy an evening of lovely conversation.

It is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer)

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Neighbor

A man was returning home from a visit to the International House of Prayer via a country road when his Timing Belt suddenly broke, startling him and sending him into the ditch. He emerged with a dazed look and a bleeding forehead from hitting the dash. The man knew that he was in the middle of nowhere and that it could be hours before he saw another car.

Just then he saw what looked like a tour bus driving towards him in the distance. He couldn't believe his eyes - it was the bus of one of his favorite televangelists! He cried out in joy and began to wave frantically at the bus with his shirt but the bus picked up speed as it passed him on its way to the next major city. The man stared in disbelief and sunken hope.

As he swaggered back to his car he again caught the glimpse of a vehicle in the distance coming towards him. It was the unmistakable outline of a 15 person church youth van complete with luggage trailer and an emblazened cross on the side door. The man's heart leaped once again as he waved his shirt and cried out in distress. He slowly lowered his arms as the van sped by him full of teenagers pointing and laughing at his predicament.

No sooner had this van passed when the man noticed another car coming his way. He started to raise his shirt once again but then stopped when he noticed a large rainbow sticker on the front of the car. He momentarily cursed himself for his prominent bumperstickers touting his political and religious views. To his surprise the car pulled to a stop behind him. Out stepped a well dressed young man who, with an effeminate tone, asked him if he needed some help. The man was dumbfounded. The stranger drove the man to the next town and, while he was in the emergency room, arranged for a tow truck to get his car and paid for his hospital bills...

"Go and do likewise"
Lk. 10:25-37

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Billy the Bunny









I just had to share this one - not only the name, but the subversive style fit someone we know whose name starts with a B.!

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Counterscript (I)

Last Saturday, the Storks' Nest once again became a bustling seat of activity as our home filled up with some of our favorite people in the world, gathered once again to remember the story we have all chosen to live by, and to nurture one another as we all seek to follow the alternative scenario of the kingdom of God.

Those gathered in our living room come from various religious traditions - some have been raised in Evangelical megachurches, some graduated from a Pentecostal Bible college, others grew up Catholic, were part of a house church, watched preachers on TV or attended liberal churches with a strong emphasis on social justice. We've gravitated towards each other not just in reaction to our respective traditions - although we do vary in our level of criticism towards where we came from and openly bring those to the table, open to the realization that we've each been equipped with a set of key questions, commitments and preconceptions.

What pulls us together is a common sense that the dominant scripts of our culture, including the religious ones, fail to deliver the safety and happiness they promise. At the same time, we've all stolen glimpses of a very different story, one which makes my heart sing. It seems implausible, impractical, counterintuitive - and yet it is here that the blind see, the poor inherit a kingdom, those in mourning find their tears carefully counted; it is here that being takes precedence over having or doing, happiness is not an impossible goal but a pleasant side effect, and we find the heavens friendly and near.

The trouble is that those glimpses are fleeting, and we live in proximity to many powerful idols: Consumerism, Progress, Technology, Militarism, Romantic Love, Therapism, Liberal Guilt, Prosperity Gospel - to list just a few of the ones we mentioned the other night. They are compelling and popular stories that we repeatedly give in to, only to come full circle with Qoheleth - "all is vanity and striving after wind." That's when we remember the strange distant music of the Gospel. We gather again in someone's living room to hear the Counterscript, perhaps in the Beatitudes. We hear the truth about the shape we're in, and that truth telling makes us free.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

The Beatitudes

In preparation for attending the play "Jesus Christ Superstar" with a friend of ours who is not too fond of Christianity as he conceives of it, I emailed him this short introduction into the Christian ideal.

Matthew 5:1-10

Now when he saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them, saying:

"Blessed are the rich, for theirs is the kingdom they have created.

Blessed are those who are impervious to sorrow and trouble themselves not with the pain of others, for they comfort themselves.

Blessed are the powerful, for they have received their inheritance.

Blessed are those who are self-righteous, they have already filled themselves.

Blessed are those who are unwavering and unbending in their pursuit of justice as to not let a single error go unpunished, the favor will be returned to them.

Blessed are the self-unaware, for they do not have to worry about God.

Blessed are the lovers of war, for they will be called sons of men.

Blessed are those who persecute others in the name of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of this world.

Blessed are you when you insult people, persecute them, and falsely say all kinds of evil against them because of me.
Rejoice and be glad, for great is your reward."

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Of Rabbits and Men

With a thick cover of snow covering our back yard, we've recently discovered a couple sets of animal tracks indicating that we may have a couple more neighbors than we thought. We had so far made our acquaintance with a tattered tom cat, the raccoon who occasionally raids our garbage, a family of pigeons who seem to have taken a liking to our bedroom window, a pair of crows in the maple tree, along with their entourage of silly sparrows, and the three boisterous squirrels who chase each other around our alley. We've become familiar with all of their sights and signs, so we knew right away that the long tracks in the snow must have belonged to somebody new. A few nights ago, as I was opening the door, my eyes suddenly met with the frightened stare of a little white rabbit crouched by the jasmine bush. We looked at each other for a good minute, both surprised by each others presence, before leaving each other alone and going our separate ways.

The sight of all these animals in the city still startles me, even after living here for over a year. Where I come from, cities are ancient human enclaves effectively separated from nature over the course of many centuries. The sight of a squirrel in a city park is a rare and celebrated occurrence, and rabbits can only be spotted far off in the country, away from human dwellings. The only time I had ever seen a raccoon was at the zoo - a funny creature who liked things so clean that he meticulously washed all of his food. When I first looked in the dictionary to see if I knew the Polish name for the scary creature that dug in our garbage, I could at first not believe that it was the same thing - in fact, I still wonder if the animal I saw at the Polish zoo as a little girl might be a different type of raccoon than those in Minnesota?

Even if it should be so, I can't hold the same disbelief with regard to squirrels - they are definitely the same species, yet I am about the only person I know who stops at their sight with amazement and wonder. There are, in fact, so many of them here, and they cause so much damage to people's houses, that they are seen as an outright nuisance - much like rabbits, who nibble on people's flowerbeds and gardens. One man's joy is another's pest... We even have a friend a couple of blocks away - if you are a child in Poland you may want to stop reading right here - who regularly shoots squirrels with his BB gun!

The culture of shooting is a subject for a post of its own, but the various connotations of raccoons and squirrels actually made me think of people the other day. They remind me of a man I got to know back in Poland, who came on numerous missions trips with a deep sense compassion for the young people of my country. Shortly after I moved here, we had a conversation about the part of the city where Billy and I chose to live, and I was taken aback by his open hostility towards my new neighbors - "these lazy troublemakers who live off others' taxes and make our streets unsafe." I was instantly struck by his radically different attitude towards two groups of people who live in very similar realities. It would be an understatement to say that Polish cities are no safer than the south side of Minneapolis - the difference is that they are an ocean away, and so the pain does not cut as close; it is not as personal as having your car broken into or a friend's child wounded by a gunshot in the back yard. It's less of a challenge to love broken people and to see their beauty at a distance - like an occasional squirrel in the city park.

I wonder, however, if the depth and transformation that love is really about can ever truly happen at a distance - unless it begins in the back yard, in close community with others different than us who will occasionally eat our lettuce or bite through our roof.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

The Poor will Always Be Among Us

The more I work in the social services arena, the more I come to see the grim reality behind Jesus' words. I often work with clients whose poverty(material and spirit) is a result of a complex web of addictions, mental illness, poor parental modeling, and plain old selfishness. I have recently been thinking about what it would take to end poverty forever.

We all know that just throwing money at poor families will not lift them out of their circumstances or break the deep cycles in which they are imbedded. Let us imagine then that we were able to provide the most comprehensive wrap around services possible. We give the family stable housing in a neighborhood with mixed income so as not to concentrate poverty, we provide them with job training and positions in jobs making livable wages, we provide their children with day care and the best education money can buy, then we have counselors and therapists provide intensive therapy for both the family as a whole and the individuals, we give them domestic abuse training, chemical dependency training and support, life skills education on how to budget and manage a household. We then connect these families with spiritual communities where they can be loved and cared for, and be given meaning and connection. Even if we did all of this, we still cannot account for an individual's choices. A person's unwillingness and lack of desire to change can make all of these lovely programs as useless as giving vegetables to a lawn mower. I have been in many sessions where I bend over backwards trying to come up with new and creative ways to help families and when the dust clears it comes down to the fact that they do not want to change their ways.

Even if every person on the planet was freed from the curse of poverty there would still come along people who make poor choices both for themselves or in regards to others. A mother chooses herself over her child and uses substances in the womb, that child does worse in school, is less equipped to get a high paying job and thus the cycle begins again. A son is born mentally ill and when he comes of age goes in search of a mate, having children, the cycle begins again. Another people group is oppressed because they are different and given less opportunities in society, the cycle begins again. A company lays off a third of its workers to show an increase rather than a decrease in their already large profits, the cycle begins again.


So what is to be done? Should we give up since the end goal is hopeless? Even though I don't believe we are ever going to free this world from hunger, war, poverty, or hate, there are small successes that give me hope. There are people who do desire to change even though they are oppressed by a myriad of issues. There are people who do change. It saves my mind from despair to know that each individual or family that is brought out of the cycle of poverty means that we have not only freed them, but the generations that proceed from them.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

A Stork Apology


Just so we are all on the same page to start out, a few words about storks. I suspect that there are a few of you out there already wondering if this blog is meant to be a chronicle of an imminent parenting endeavor, and a few others, who happen to know about my secret pregnancy phobia, guffawing at the irony. To set the record straight, our association with storks has other sources though - it all began soon after our wedding, when we moved in to a lovely apartment on the top floor of a duplex, high above the surrounding city and accessible through a rickety staircase. Before we knew it, or my phobia had time to get activated, the place named itself the Storks' Nest. As it turns out, it had great insight in doing so... Did you know, for instance, that:

  • The white stork is the national bird of Poland, my home country. Along with other Slavic nations, Poles believe that storks bring peace and happiness to the family on whose house they nest.
  • One of the largest stork populations is found in Ukraine, where the two of us first met. There, it is associated with the start of a new family in a new home (!)
  • Storks are migrant birds - they spend part of the year in Europe, and travel to more tropical parts in the winter. While Minnesota is in no way a tropical destination, the element of migration is a constant in our world - one of us is and always will be living in a foreign country.
  • Is it any wonder then that Pithagoras thought that storks impersonate the souls of dead poets??

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Welcome

Greetings wanderers, vagabonds, and pursuers of beauty.  Welcome to our cozy home among the electronic rush hours and dilapidated telephone poles of cyberspace.  We invite you to join us as we take refuge with our thoughts and reflections on life.  We hope that our thoughts stir your thoughts - and vice versa.

Best read with a cup of tea with lemon.