Mike’s take on youth ministry (and ministry in general) has had a *significant* shift over the years.  Currently he worships at Jacob’s Well where he says they have a youth ministry, but not a youth group per se.  The youth are very much a part of the congregation, not segregated to the youth room.  Some people work more with the youth, but it sounds like the congregation is more integrated through mentoring, walking alongside a specific youth for a time.  And the youth walk alongside the adults as the gathering worships together and shares the light of Christ in their daily lives and neighborhoods.

In my history of being part of faith communities I realized that those who are “group”-oriented seem more clubish, more “come in, be one of us”, more fractured, more self-interested.  Those that were “ministry”-0riented thought of the bigger picture, had more awareness of the each other, practiced more over-arching hospitality.  And in my faith gathering we have many ministries, but not a lot of groups … but the places where there are groups, we seem to have more lack of communication and conflict with each other …

My boys are part of the childrens’ *ministry*, but once they become teens, they’ll be part of a youth *group*.  This is not to say that youth leaders are not needed, but when one is known as The Youth Pastor, one seems to shoulder all the responsibility of those in that age group.  I’m sure different pastors would say different things regarding other being involved, but my observation has been “I’ll volunteer with the kids, but once they’re teens, they’ll go off their merry way:  it’s what they want, after all, because we aren’t communicating well, and I’d love a break.”

I wonder where other “group” mentalities take place:  perhaps with seniors?  “Well, this way they can sing songs they like and talk about things important to them:  they’re happier off over there in their Group.”  Perhaps recovery programs?  “Oh, they wouldn’t want to talk to me:  I don’t understand their experience, and I’d probably say something stupid anyway.”  Ethnic groups?  Etc …

I love being part of the women’s ministry at NFC, but if I knew if was a “group”, honestly I’d pack up my knitting needles and head elsewhere:  I refuse to be segregated.  Integration would be wonderful, but methinks that requires some humbleness and vulnerability and risk of rejection and practice of hospitality:  not necessarily easily-taken postures, but oh so worth it.

I’ve never been a big fan of Paul.  Yes, I’m stepping aside before the heavenly lightning bolt strikes.  He’s just so … wordy.  I know I’m wordy as well, but at least I throw in a bit of self-depricating humor here and there, and somehow his “I’m the King of All Sinners” just doesn’t strike my funny bone.  But reading about a) the history of the early church, 2) the history of Paul interacting with the early church, iii) seeing the typical process of things fall into place (everyone on board, times get tough, people start to doubt, people are persecuted, people start to doubt, heretics infiltrate trying to take power, people start to doubt), it just makes so much more sense.

Some of his writing is proactive:  urging readers on to the end goal.  And some of his writing is reactive:  correcting muck that’s around.  But when I didn’t know about the muck, I thought Paul was just being really micromanaging, perfectionistic, and judgmental (and wordy).  When I “walked” with Paul, through not being liked by many early Christians, through being in jail for no real good reason, through being shipwrecked with people who probably were a little on the “savory” side, through house arrest, through seeing the people he worked with and loved go through tough times (sometimes self-inflicted), it just made so much more sense.  And the words carried so much more meaning.

Not so much with Revelation, though.  John’s coming off a bit manic:  boy, he loves, and boy, he pours on the doom.  And redemption, I’m sure, but he certainly is Image-Full.

I love the idea of a farmers’ market.  A neighboring town has a much bigger, more diverse, well put together market that gathers on Thursday afternoons - you know, right in the middle of naptime.  The only time I’ve attended was twoish years ago when I had a toddler and an infant who refused to nap, and I refused to stay in the hot house with them.  It was a lovely experience:  great, fresh produce; whole grain, locally made breads; meats and cheeses - I came home with a quality dinner.  Plus everyone oohed and ahhed over my smallest tyke, reminding me that it might not have been a mistake to choose to procreate again.

Yesterday I read an article about a farmers’ market that was located in the poorer section of a large city (can’t find the link this morning:  here’s one similar).  For the most part these markets are in nicer areas of populations, places where folks live who already have access to fresh produce (maybe not local, but still).  This market also spent time and money being able to accept electronic benefits transfer for those on food stamp programs:  it’s costly, but this was something important to them.

How cool would it be to have that in my town?  Right now the markets seem to be such a novelty, something to stop at on the way home from the beach or from wine tasting.  What if the ginormous empty field in the middle of the southside of our neighboring town had a quality farmers’ market with quality produce?  It may not draw in the passers-by, it may not be as easy to get to, but what if it helped the economically-diverse populations mix?  We live in an area with easy access to quality agriculture as well as a technology-proficient area.  Oh, to dream dreams …

Oh, how I love Rattle and Hum Bono.  Fling my hair Bono.  Strut around like the proud Irishman that I am Bono.  Not care that my pants are almost up to my mid-chest Bono.  Take everything so seriously and piously Bono.

I wonder how he looks back on himself.  I rarely let photos be taken, and especially never video, because I just cringe.  Really?  I wanted to wear that?  I said that?  I acted that pompously?  I was that self-assured?

I rarely reread my journals, and I often even wonder about obliterating my blogs someday just because:  oy, it’s just so much.

Right now I’m facilitating my Sunday School class.  They didn’t have a specific topic in mind, so I picked something that’s been on my radar as of late:  how is the church called to respond in these economic times?  But it’s intimidating because it’s a) my sort-of peers (some used to be youth leaders of mine, some are my parents’ friends) and 2) I am a humanities major who often runs from things involving “finance” and “economic” and “projected” or just “numbers”.  I have no answers to this topic, but “like a splinter in my mind, driving me mad”, I can’t ignore it.

So I started reading, because that’s what I do.  I read a How to Budget/Finance Christian-style book.  Then I read Ron Sider’s “Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger” followed by Arthur Simon (founder of Bread for the World)’s “How Much Is Enough?“  Apparently that was enough, and yet not enough.

My first sharing on Sunday went …. enh.  I was just really scattered.  Even if I can find time to pull my thoughts together, my brain doesn’t focus lately.  And there’s just so much to share.  And how to share my journey in a way that’s an invitation for others to explore their own journeys through crises and what helped, rather than a “we should…” or “we shouldn’t” nagging/OT prophetic kind of presentation.  I have an idea of where I want people to go … but is that where God wants them to go?  How to let go of that control stick ….

Then during Sunday morning worship we were reflecting on our time in James.  You know, James, where there’s this doozy of a passage.  Also after finding out that a sort of church plant, right across the street, that we thought wanted “independence”, is in need of help.  And the typical thoughts are, “Oh, well, they must need financial help in this time, because they don’t make much:  giving must be down.”  It’s true:  their congregation is made up of folks who struggle for most of the income they make.  And yet their giving is *UP*.  2 Corinthians 8 was SCREAMING in my head.  And yet I didn’t know if I should share that in Open Worship.  Why?

Because I might look pompous.  I might come across as idealistic and passionate.  I might look like Bono Bulleting the Blue Sky.  I might look like a boob, but such a self-righteous boob.

So I cop out:  I come home, mull it over, and throw it up on my blog where maybe it won’t come across so intensely, or at least be heard by so many people.

But sometimes I wonder if this intensity that’s in me is really going to drive me mad.  Maybe a good rock-out to the neighbor’s drums is truly a God-ordained thing, or a quick YouTube education for the younger tykes in the house on Uncles Bono, Edge, Adam, and Larry in their classic years:  ‘well, the God I believe in isn’t short of cash, mister.’ (screaming fans).

……………….

My son came home from a church event saying he didn’t like his friends, that they were bad.  And so he hit them.  The messiness of establishing community, appropriate actions and reactions, and stating the truth of feelings being experienced (logical or not) is hard.  The path of least resistence, of the moment, would state, “Just don’t put him in settings like that anymore.”  Avoidance doesn’t truly help:  it simply numbs out the issue for the moment.  It’s hard for me not to take on the labels others might bestow on your kid:  hitter, out of control, whiner, weak, shrieker.  I’m glad I’m not a label to God, and that through my kids, God’s peeling those labels off of my Self.  I pray I can be a part of peeling those labels off of my kids, just like they’re so fond of doing to the produce in the store (though the store may not be so fond of that practice).

……………….

Last night at our church group we talked about the concept of The Embrace (via Miroslav Volf):  he was referencing embracing the enemy, but the group facilitator was talking about the concept of embrace in marriage (which, yes, there were comments about if they were truly all that different :)).  Four steps:  open up, wait, embrace, release.  We also talked some about our spiritual personalities, looking at results from an inventory.  It was mentioned that these can change depending on the phase of life we’re in, which is good, because my strengths are all about being alone, and my “areas for growth” are about caretaking, i.e. the complete opposite of my day-to-day life.  I felt a bit better in regards to comparing myself to women who seem to take to motherhood so naturally:  perhaps they’re more natural caretakers.  I told Jason that if I could sense God strongly there, I’d caretake till I fell over.  But I sense God in times alone, in my head, in simplicity and rhythm.  Yes, opportunities for growth, but it’s hard to initiate embrace in a place of weakness … or perhaps that’s where the Most True embrace occurs …

……………..

This morning Judah and I read The  Jesus Storybook Bible, a recent gift from the Gran.  Friends had highly recommended it, saying it didn’t gloss over Bible stories or dumb them down, but spoke truth in simple, poetic ways.  I had prayed for some opportunities to talk to Judah about “theological” stuff, the stories of God beyond details, making it more formational than informational.  After reading a few chapters, Judah told me that God is bad because He lets us sin.  He then told me God kills bad guys, that God doesn’t like him, and wondered if we can buy fruit at the store like on the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.  Perhaps teaching theology and story isn’t my strong suit, that, or I’m sending him to seminary to confubulate the professors there - at least they get paid for such questions and teachings. 

……………

This morning I was reading Fruit of the Vine, and the writer mentioned something along the lines of the committment to be in relationship with others is not contingent on being conflict-free, but of committment to resolve the conflict.  A timely reminder.

……….

Last Sunday I worshiped with the faith community at Jacob’s Well.  Visiting other faith communities is an interesting experience:  will I stand out?  Will I feel comfortable?  Will I stand aside and analyze, or will I enter in?  Will I know how to enter in?

Jacob’s Well is known as an emerging church.  For me, it felt like worship at camp, which is where I’ve had some of the most powerful experiences of corporate worship.  I was able to enter in, minus the distraction of a squirming child behind me who did *not* want to go to Sunday School (totally understandable:  he’d done a bit of “new” over the past days).  And I found myself wanting to know more of the community stories.  The worship team is in a time of transition, and so they sang more songs than usual, songs that were written by the worship team.  Songs that seemed to be more meaningful or owned as they came out of community experiences.

…………..

I enjoy looking at the Calendar of Events for different faith communities:  how do they spend their time outside of corporate worship.  I would so be at this event:

A call was put out to gather folks concerned about immigration issues taking place in our area:  what are legal ramifications, what is being done, how are we called to move?  The immigration population in my church neighborhood centers mostly around a Hispanic population (as opposed to Portland which also has a more diverse group of folks affected).

I don’t speak Spanish:  I took four years of high school French and spoke it very poorly.  I’m involved in ministries and life with Caucasian suburban working/stay-at-home moms and high school/college-age students.  But I needed to go.

Our church has a relationship with a Hispanic Friends church right across the street.  I’m not sure of the technicalities - whether we “started “the gathering, supported it monetarily, partnered with, worked alongside? ….  That’s part of the issue at hand.  The Hispanic faith community is living with these issues, but there seems to be a lack of communicating between us … at least a lack that I know about.

It’s always sketchy to talk about things I don’t know about:  I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth or cause more harm - this is simply my perception or experience.  I’m not casting blame, and if there’s a place where our faith community needs to apologize in an effort to connect and walk alongside each other, I hope we do that.

Other things I didn’t know:

• A community garden is coming to Newberg with the hopes of helping folks in need.  It’s not necessarily in the midst of town, but it should be accessible.
• A place called The Welcome Center at a local grade school assists immigrants with paperwork, finding ESL classes, living here, meeting needs.  They are in the midst of this.
• Families are barely making ends meet; the immigration process contains endless loopholes; some people have the option to immigrate, but many don’t; the Hispanic culture places great important on relationships, many of which are left when upon immigration, which leaves them foundation-less - these relationships do not seem to be naturally taking place here.

I sat on a couch in the conference room next to my son munching on Teddy Grahams.  I wanted to bring him along:  didn’t know why.  Perhaps it’s a small step in helping him look beyond himself at how others live, to understand and be welcomed into our call as a family to walk alongside others and help, to get out of our comfort zones - admitting that we’re getting out of our comfort zones - and simply start with “I’m willing.”

My friend talked about “as we worship a God who moved into the neighborhood, we’re called to do the same.”  I don’t know my neighborhood, but I’m willing.

At one point my friend referred to us as “bridges” between young adults and adults - able to speak to both, existing in both worlds, trying to help understanding on both sides.  Young adults seem to want to be adults, but different than the adults who exist; existing adults want to think that they’re still “hip” with young adults, and yet they don’t “get” why young adults do what they do (or don’t do what they don’t do).  I wondered when I would move from being a bridge to being firmly planted on the adult side of the fence:  I feel I’m getting closer day by day, sometimes pushed, as I find myself saying things I *swore* I’d never say, like “use your words”, “not so fast”, and “what is that crap on the radio?”

I wondered who will be the bridge between me and my kids when they reach young adults.  Will they be segregated into a removed-from-the-larger-body youth group experience?  Will their peers and youth leaders be as influential in their spiritual formation as mine were?  Will they drift off and find Church Life irrelevant?  Or will they lead me and our family/community to a new place to experience where God is already moving?

I got a bit angry.  Many of my friends who grew up in my faith community were dedicated to Christ in that very building.  Their parents dressed them up, brought them to the congregation, and on a blessed Sunday made a commitment in front of the community to raise this child in the ways of Christ.  The family entered into a covenant with the community and with God - sacred, holy, blessed.  In return the community covenanted to walk alongside the family, to train and equip them to raise this child into the ways of Christ.  And yet my friends and the community no longer walk together.  I wondered:  how long was that covenant called to last?

Yes, we live in a transitional society.  We also live in a very nuclear-family-oriented and busy society.  It’s easy for me to lose track of others because I’m focused on a) my family and 2) the things I want to do.  I think we’re called to do things as a larger congregation, but I so often hear, “We’re already so involved doing so many good things!”  Individually.  When am I called to lay things aside, even if they’re good things, because I’ve made a covenant to the larger community?

I want the covenant that I made before God and before Newberg Friends to last as long as God will allow.  If we happen to move, I hope that interest and love will still remain, even though the day-to-day walk will be transferred to a different faith community.  I don’t want this covenant to be passed off to the middle school pastor, and then the high school pastor, and then … ?  The slow fade into nothing, that is, until my boys get married and have children of their own, maybe still being involved in a faith community and now able to reenter as an Adult Parent, the “role” that seems most functional/understood in the evangelical Christian faith community.

My friend talked about a gal she connected with, a young single mother who is simply trying to get through one day at a time.  When my friend asked what her goals or dreams or gifts were, she had no answer.  She had no one walking alongside her, speaking that into her life; she felt completely disconnected to those in the faith community, the place where she was dedicated.  How has it reached this point?  Do we need to cast blame, or simply state it for what it is and then ask, “What is God calling us to do about it?”

How long do covenants last?  Do these covenants mean anything practical, or are they simply a ritual and a Sunday morning family photo opportunity?  What covenants is God asking us to renew, reclaim?  If they are called to last, I feel anger, remorse, and motivation to *do* something about it:  I don’t want my words to be meaningless, which they are until lived out in action.  I expect the same of my faith community.

Perhaps we need to talk as a community about what that means - define expectations.  Perhaps we need to evaluate where these practicalities are to be lived out - small groups versus larger congregation, etc.  And perhaps we need to repent, to apologize, to take a posture of humility and hospitality.  Or we can just let the slow fade continue, and our words can continue to lose their power; but this Mama Bear won’t live that way with her boys (not like they’re easy to ignore anyway; just *try* and forget about them :)).

I’ve been out and about in my neighborhood, taking walks, checking out the spring flowers, noticing which houses have sold and which one are on the market.  People are talking to each other, having barbeques, playing at the park.  I love the noises of hearing kids squeal as they slide down the corkscrew slides or get pushed just That Much Higher on the swings.  People are talking; people are communing.

My Bible study has switched topics as of last week.  We had been working through certain materials since our start in the fall, taking two weeks for each lesson to really get into the ideas presented.  Our groups was fairly large, and a number of folks were attending specifically because of the material we were using (they really enjoyed the author/presenter).  Now the attendence has changed.  True, the cold season is still upon us; work picks up; peoples’ schedules get busy.  But I also know that people aren’t present due to the topical change.  And it bothers me.

When I was in college, I had a roommate who was event-oriented.  A new movie was coming out, one that all the roommates wanted to see.  But something came up, and we had to postpone.  Except she still went:  found other people to go with.  This hurt my feelings, silly as it sounds, and as obstinate as I am, I didn’t even want to see the movie when the opportunity arose:  she already saw it and therefore ruined it.  Finally I realized why I was so cranky:  I’m *community*-oriented.  Many times I could care less about *what* we’re doing as long as we’re doing it *together*.  She’s not wired that way.  Realizing this, naming this, gave me freedom to be me and for her to be her, for my feelings not to be hurt, but to recognize that our expectations were different.  And this is something I have to remind myself of in situations like my bible study.

In Sunday School we had a new speaker (tis the season for change, apparently:  get out your white pants, your outdoor eating gear, and your new speakers) who is speaking for four weeks on the idea of Community and Spirituality:  that we often take an individualistic approach to spirituality, not a communal one.  Jesus is our personal savior.  I need to take care of my sins for my sake.  I attend which church I want to because it relates best to my needs.  He mentioned the idea of the parish church where one attended a church, or rather was *assigned*, due to location.  And you duked out all the joys and the muck that comes with community rather than leaving when things got uncomfortable or “didn’t relate.”

I’ve heard people speak on the topic at hand at Bible Study; I’ve heard it a number of times.  I’m still attending with the hopes that I’ll take away something new from this person’s individual experience in this area, but more so that I can come alongside others who haven’t heard these things, that are struggling, that need people to walk alongside them and strengthen and equip them in these areas.  This is my community, and as much as I complain about different things, I really don’t want to leave just because the topic doesn’t “totally” relate or connect with me:  I want to help, to be present, to commune because if/when the roles are reversed, I would want the same from them.  If others are called to leave, I want to have a heart that speaks peace and freedom to them as well.  Wherever we are called to be, I pray that we will simply be fully present.

The Lenten Reflection guide calls us to reflect on hunger this week:  Journey into the Brokenness of Hunger.  The author gives world wide statistics on how many people go hungry, how many people will go hungry, what a typical amount of money for a given meal looks like, and what the picture of present consumption vs. future popululation figures looks like (*bleak*).  It’s enough to make me want to put my head under a pillow, or listen to the new U2 album really loud so that I can’t hear the worries - then again, listening to our current day St. Bono probably isn’t the best “numb out” material.  Stinkin’ sensitivity to the Spirit.

The guide offers a practice of planning meals using $2.00 per person a day - the worldwide average amount of money available for sustaining life (but actually, many exist of less).  Immediately, my defenses went up:

• But I can’t plan around that!  I already have things planned out for the week.
• I don’t know how much this stuff cost, and I already have it on hand.
• I can’t provide the boys with nutritious food for that much money.
• What about my blood sugar issues?  I need protein:  that’s expensive.
• This takes too much time.  I have other things that need to get done.
• Excuse.  Excuse.  Excuse.  Excuse.

Which brings me to International Women’s Day.  Feeding the family tends to fall down the shoot as “women’s work”.  How many women don’t have the choice of opting out of this practice?  How many women make it work - graciously - without their families knowing the work, the labor, the cost behind it - as an act of love - lean into the Lord, meal by meal, to make ends meet?

I’ve been reading a chronological mashup of Kings and Chronicles lately:  talk about a crazy time period.  Prosperity, famine, prosperity, famine.  Good kings, bad kings, mediocre kings, and everything in between.  While the stories of the different rulers run together (Was he Israel or Judah?  Tore down high places?  Offereed pagan sacrifices?  Built up defences?  Got hit with disease?), the stories of two women stand out:  the woman who fed Elijah and her containers overflowed with flour and oil, and the woman who housed Elisha and he promised she would have a son.  One was poor; one was rich.  One was asked for hospitality; one offered it.  Initially one had a son; one was without.  But they both eventually had children, and they both almost lost what they treasured.  These women had faith enough to seek out an intercessor:  they wrestled with God over the things that were precious to them - the future that they believed God had promised them.

This doesn’t happen in every situation.  I’ve seen women pray and plead and fast and ask over and over and over of the Lord to heal their children/husband/sister/friend:  the ill one doesn’t make it.  It’s the faith, the persistence, I see so many women equipped with.  Their life circumstances, their struggles, their belief in the future that God has promised them:  they keep that in their day-to-day view, driving and drawing them closer to God.  Not only do they make do:  they flourish.  And they reach out to work with intercessors if that’s what the situation calls for, pride be damned.

Today I think about the women who’ve been in my life:  my first grade teacher who I deemed would still love me even if my mom was mad at me, a woman who taught my eldest in Sunday School the same songs she taught me at day camp, my mama and her friends and how we kids never had to worry that there were economic hard times - and there were which I’m just finding out about now.  Friends, teachers, advisors, writers, singers, knitters, chefs, missionaries, moms, students, pray-ers, intercessors leaning into the leanness of the time and allowing it to transform them more into the image of Christ for the sake of others.

So Happy International Women’s Day!  Happy second Sunday of Lent! [And Happy Birthday to my Pappy who has always affirmed me, has taught me, and has been willing to eat $2.00 worth of my cookies as a meal.]

“The LORD your God in your midst,
The Mighty One, will save;
He will rejoice over you with gladness,
He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.” (And we wonder where women get it ).