el chupacabra writes a blog

the very worst missionary, the very best wife!

2012-01-20T09:33:00.000-08:00

My wife, JamieTheVWM, just did a guest post over at In A Mirror Daily about women in ministry you should go check it out, but while she acknowledges her call to minister I think she downplays a bit of the impact she has made in the lives of those around her.

Yesterday while she was slaving away cooking me the best birthday meal EVER, I was spending hours filling out an application for a ministry position in the states. The church was asking for a copy of my conversion story and like the well prepared christian missionary that I am, I had to type it up. Now I know that JamieTheVWM knows how it all went down, but I just wanted to share the story and the impact that her "ministry" has had on me and my life.

This is by far the longest post I've made, but coming to know Christ, to truly know Him, took me years, a ton of people, and most importantly:

Photo stolen from: www.theveryworstmissionary.com

And if a woman has a husband who is not a believer and he is willing to live with her, she must not divorce him. For the unbelieving husband has been sanctified through his wife, and the unbelieving wife has been sanctified through her believing husband.

1 Corinthians 7:13-14

I was 5 when my parents starting taking us, my sister and I, to church. I can still remember the day. We walked in and I was a bit apprehensive about leaving my parents to go off to Sunday School, but this kind older woman ushered me into a room just off the foyer. As soon as we walked into the room, this woman separated me from the rest of the children, sat me down in the corner and pulled out a picture book.

She read me a story about some guy named Jesus who apparently walked around in fields of grass and flowers dressed in white with a blue sash surrounded by smiling people of all colors. She told me that Jesus was in heaven and my parents were going to be with Him forever, free of pain and happy, forever. As she flipped the page, I saw a picture of what looked like a cave on fire with people crying and faces drawn to show that they were suffering, physically suffering. She told me that all those hurting people were in hell and they were going to be there forever, in pain forever. Then she told me that is where I was going, straight to hell unless I repeated some words for her, which by the way, she made me stay away from everyone else until I did.

The church was quite small, less than 100 attended, and most of them were from a handful of families. These families not only made up the congregation, but the leadership of the church as well. As a result, the leadership positions, such as Sunday School teachers and Youth Group leaders, were not filled due to any specific giftedness or training, but rather by the person's standing within their families and the family’s standing within the church. As a child I didn’t really notice, but as I got older and started asking more questions to find out about who this Jesus was, the more I realized that many of these "leaders" knew no more than I did.

Over the course of time doubt set in. Not doubt that God existed or that Jesus was sent to save me, but doubt in the church, my church. I struggled to comprehend how a God that was all-knowing and all-powerful could place such inept people to lead His children. The doubt was growing and I found it more and more difficult to live a good life because you know that is the mark of a good Christian. The good Christian doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t do drugs, and doesn’t have sex, or at least that is what I was told.

Apparently the good Christian rule only applies to those sitting in the pews because my pastor, my spiritual guide, the person who was leading God’s people, a married man with kids and a calling ran off with a married mother he was counseling. So that’s all it took, a married pastor and a married mother running off together, tearing apart two families, staining the church, that’s all it took to push a teenager that was already in doubt over the edge.

I had just turned 18 when that happened and honestly, up until that moment, I had been a good Christian boy. Sure I struggled with things, but I had made it through the majority of my high school experience without defiling myself in a major way, but why? If my own pastor, who should be a bit closer to God than some know-it-all teenager, didn’t have to follow his own rules it meant the rules didn’t matter. So, since the rules didn’t matter I decided to break them. I had “wasted” years of my life living a lie, trying to be the good Christian so I set out to live a life opposite.

All those things I hadn’t done, all those experiences I missed out on, well, I pursed them which culminated in me meeting my wife, getting married, and having a baby, but not exactly in that order. There we were, two kids with a kid thrown into a family that we, well I wasn’t ready for. I was in college playing football on scholarship. I was devoting all my time to either football, weight lifting for football, or going to frat parties with other football players, oh yeah and studying just enough so I could play football. My wife, my kid, they were nothing but a hindrance to my future. Looking back I can’t believe how I treated my family, but amazingly God was there.

My wife had grown up in not just a non-Christian home; she grew up in a home hostile to Christ. Her father taught her that Christians were weak and needed a crutch to make it through life. So there she was a teenager in a meaningless marriage with all the burdens of family life but none of the support. My wife was feeling weak and was looking for a crutch and she knew just where to go, thanks to her father, to Christ. By the time she really kicked her faith into gear I was in the process of checking out, searching for ways to leave my wife and my kids, oh yeah, we had another one in the midst of all that. What changed? She did.

I had told her time and time again that I wanted nothing to do with her church. I explained how the church was just a scam. The pastors preach the law but do whatever they want. I refused to allow her to give any of my money to the church. I called her stupid. I called the church stupid. I fought against her involvement, but when she told me she was getting baptized I felt I needed to be there. I just had this feeling I was supposed to go, and looking back I know exactly why.

I’m obviously admitting that I was a large part of the problem, but not all of it. I wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. Prior to her attending that church there was no love, no respect, no family in our home. We were playing house, but had never made a home and I know that was my fault, but that church changed her. I began seeing something in her that I had never seen before. She began to love on me and show me respect despite my history. There was something different about her, something else, someone else was living in her. Jesus.

Anyway, when I arrived at the baptism I saw a group of people, hundreds, gathered on the shore of a local lake, IN PUBLIC, to show the world they followed Jesus. I saw people that believed, and lived out what they preached. I saw people with peace on their faces and love in their hearts, the same things I had been seeing in my wife. Days later I felt a presence. It wasn’t a voice, and I didn’t see anything, but this feeling came over me. Immediately I knew that God wanted me in that church for some reason.

When I told my wife that I wanted to go to church she looked at me slack-jawed. She didn’t say anything about it, and that next Saturday night we just got ready and went to church. At first I was just there to please God, but slowly He worked on my heart and I decided to attend a men’s bible study that was starting up. Before the first meeting we were all asked to read some passages out of scripture, you know to give us some common ground for discussion. One of those versus was Philippians 3:13-14.

“…Forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead. I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

Now from the moment I stepped back through the doors of the church I began struggling with my past. I had done a lot of things that I felt God would hold against me, but in this passage Paul is telling us something amazing about the character of God. It’s something that we see all throughout scripture, but it is so clearly stated here: God is more concerned with where we are going than where we have been. Sure I have a past, sure I’ve made mistakes, but God is a God of redemption.

God wants to use our past for His future.

el chupacabra writes

Thanks babe for not giving up on me!

therefore go...

2012-01-16T13:12:00.000-08:00

I was reading in the scriptures this morning, specifically Jesus' interaction with the Samaritan woman and something jumped out at me...Jesus went. The entire interaction between the two happens because, well, Jesus left Judea in the south and headed up north to Galilee. In this particular moment Jesus was leaving behind a little drama with the religious zealots of the day, but it got me thinking about Jesus' ministry and movement.

Photo by: erindipity

I don't know, maybe it's because I've been doing a lot of thinking about the Great Commission lately, but it seems to me that some of the best ministry going on in the scriptures, whether by Jesus, His disciples, or during the rise of the early church, was preceded by, or during, movement from one place to another.

Being the inquisitive type, I decided to do a little biblical research with the help of a close friend of mine, Google. We wanted to find out how often verbs of movement, specifically the verbs to go and to come and their conjugations, were used in the scriptures.

To go or to come, appear more often than any of the typical christian verbs: to love, to pray, to sacrifice, to worship, to glorify. In fact, the only other verb that seems to be used more than the collective use of these verbs is the use of to be and it's conjugations.

Maybe these are just words that are used more often than others, or maybe there is a reason the scriptures talk so much about moving.

Therefore GO...

The story in the scriptures, Jesus' story, our story, is a story of movement. From the moment that Adam and Eve sinned and were sent from the garden, we have been on the move. Moving to find more fertile ground, moving to avoid conflict, moving to accommodate increasing populations. Throughout our ever changing history, from the very instant we were sent away from His presence, there has been one constant: God has been actively using His power and His people to pursue us!

Therefore GO Noah and save humanity.

Therefore GO Abraham and build MY nation.

Therefore GO Moses and guide MY people.

Therefore GO Jesus and save my children.

Therefore GO...

I don't think the scriptures are telling us all to drop everything and become missionaries. I don't even think there is a great call to be a nomadic people, although I do see great value in doing ministry among more transient populations. There is, however, an underlying theme in these stories, in the story, we need to understand:

Intentional pursuit of their purpose!

God gave each one of these men a purpose and they went about fulfilling that purpose not leaving it up to chance. They were constantly moving towards their goal.

Noah built a boat. He didn't sit back and tell himself, “if God really wants me to do this He will make it, POOF, appear.” Well maybe he did, but he built the boat regardless. Abraham packed up and moved his family to places unknown through many dangers, toils, and snares. While he may have wanted the Promised Land to magically appear like in one of those David Blaine television specials, he moved across the land with intentionality. Moses, well we know what he was thinking, send someone else, however he took on his role and fulfilled his purpose of getting God's people to the Promised Land.

Sure they may have felt inadequate and of course they failed at times, Jesus being the obvious exception so don't freak out, but they pursued their purpose with intention. The were all intent on pleasing their Lord by completing their mission. They learned new skills, they planned, they practiced, they studied, they used every tool at their disposal to finish the job.

Therefore GO...

So what is your purpose?

Answering that question is going to require a careful examination of your worldview.

If you don't believe in God, let alone that Jesus guy, if you believe that humanity is just an incredibly remarkable combination of genetic mutations and macro-evolutionary processes, then you have no inherent purpose. Now I am not saying you are immoral, evil, or your life cannot be purposeful, I am just stating something we should both agree upon: you were not created with a purpose because you were not created. Any purpose you have is self-imposed.

If you are a christian because your parents were christians, or because you attend a church (either occasionally or with religious regularity), or perhaps you are a christian by means of some arbitrary vaguely spiritual philosophy that places goodness and “light” above all else and implies entrance to heaven is gained by passing some sort of karmic examination of your life, then your purpose is to serve yourself. Feel free to sit in the pews, or in the comfort of your own home for that matter, and be “fed.” Look for to integrate yourself into “ministry” opportunities where people will tell you how great you are or how much of a burden your “sacrifice” must be, or just take it easy. Your purpose is YOU, enjoy!

However, if you are a follower of Christ, a true disciple of Jesus, if you have believed in your heart and declared with your mouth the Jesus is Lord, if you are no longer living for yourself but fighting to let Christ live in you, your purpose is clear:

Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.

Jesus (Matthew 28:19-20a)

Therefore GO...

el chupacabra writes

Now, if that is your purpose, how do you plan on intentionally pursuing it? Do you need to go back to school, study a new language, or learn how social media can help you fulfill His purpose? Can you just sit back and wait for Him to open the doors or do you need to do a little knocking?

we need advocates!

2012-01-05T13:56:00.000-08:00

A couple of months ago I alluded to our future plans, as in we have none.

Photo by: madame.furie

Working in ministry, as cliché as it sounds, is one of those jobs where you need to keep yourself open to God's calling. It's hard to make plans and lay down roots when those roots may prevent you being where He wants you. I know the same rings true for all followers of Christ, but lets not scare off folks too fast.

In life, and ministry, its always a good idea to look at the future in chunks. By breaking down time into more bite-sized bits you can create goals and evaluate your successes, and failures.

Why is that important?

Well...times changes, tastes change, passions and skill-sets change.

For those that don't understand mission life and culture, we actually do live life in chunks. A missionary doesn't usually run off to the jungle for some indefinite period of time, they make a commitment for some predetermined time period called a “term” for the above reasons among others.

When we finished our first term here in Costa Rica and decided to stay we looked in the future for some relevant way point to evaluate our situation. We decided on summer of 2012. Not because the world was coming to an end nor because we felt the presidential elections would spark a new wave of prosperity in the union making it easier to find a job, but because...

The oldest would be graduating from high school.

The middle would be finishing middle school.

The youngest would be finishing elementary school.

and...

Yours truly would be finishing up his college degree.

So 2012 is just starting and, well, we are exploring ALL of our options.

I have been speaking to my bosses down here and they have made it clear that not only can I continue on with the work I'm doing here, they would love for me to stay. To be honest, there are some other ministry opportunities available to me down here that are quite intriguing to me as well.

But...

We have also been exploring the possibility of heading back north.

Remember how we came down here as servants, well we are living here as a team passionate about missions. Not missions as a program, but missions as an opportunity to:

“...go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.”

Jesus Matthew 28:19-20

What could that look like?

Well, we just don't know yet. Maybe God is calling us into a pastoral role in missions or discipleship, maybe He is leading us to work with a missions agency, or maybe He is calling us to live it out back in the “real” world.

So, while I very rarely ask for help, I am doing so now.

We need advocates!

TALK!

We are down here and kind of a bit out of the loop. While we may have an audience here on the internet, there is nothing like a real relationship and a face-to-face conversation to get the ball rolling and well, its a bit tough to have a face-to-face from way down here.

SHARE!

Share the blogs (www.elchupacabrawrites.com & www.theveryworstmissionary.com), the tweets, the witty banter that JamieTVWM and I share on the inter-webs. We are quite open with our thoughts, opinions, even our philosophy of ministry. What better way for others to know what we are about then to get to know us online.

PRAY!

This is a very stressful time for us, and each passing day brings a bit more tension. Please pray that we would find some direction to the place, the call, that He has for us. Also, pray that we would find some peace and sanity during this time that is, well, a bit crazy.

el chupacabra writes

father knows best

2011-12-19T11:51:00.000-08:00

My dad is just about the hardest working man I know.

Photo by: Jocelyne Coupaud

He started working as he entered teenagedom and not the kind of work you get to buy some pop and a record or two, but he worked for his clothes, his shoes, his food. He was self-sufficient at an age where most of us are still watching cartoons. Then when I was growing up he worked a job that, well let's just say he didn't love, worked extra jobs he really didn't love, he worked our land (practically a small farm), he worked, he worked, he worked...

He worked so that we would have a better life and so I could fulfill my purpose.

From the time my little muscles could lift a rake, or push a wheel burrow, I would work along side the old man. He would tell me that Wright men work not because we want to, but because we take care of our own.

At first it wasn't bad. We would go out on the weekends and rake up the leaves and as a little bonus I would get to jump in them.

Then I graduated to helping out on burn days. I would toss leaves by the shovel full or throw downed branches onto the flames. It left me covered in smoke, a smell that still evokes fond memories of my childhood.

Later came the lawn mowing, which was a little bit less than exciting. We had over an acre of grass that we mowed with a push mower. It took us about 4 hours every Saturday to mow, that was if we were both working. While it may not have been the most glamorous of jobs, it gave me a skill and a little extra cash when I started mowing the neighbor's lawns on my summer breaks.

Then cement work, then working on cars, then home repairs, work, work, work...

At some point I began to resent work. We weren't poor, but we lived in an area with some very rich folk. Their money didn't bother me so much as their time. While I was spending my weekends working, they were taking time to enjoy life. Their fathers hired people to mow the lawn, people like me. I just wanted to have more time to hang out and do nothing. I didn't want to work.

I didn't want to be a Wright man!

The pinnacle of my rejection of the Wright work ethic was on a Saturday. We were in the middle of redoing our front porch which meant breaking out concrete, hauling away the chunks, and a pour. I had a neighbor's lawn to mow that day and I wanted to do something after, but my dad informed me I would be helping him break up concrete instead. I'm not sure if I argued, but I do remember wishing that I was not part of the Wright family, because Wright men work.

I moped down to the neighbor's house cussing my dad up and down in my head. It got to the point, and I am ashamed to admit this, but I actually wished that he would die. My dad, the one that worked so hard, the one the wanted a better life for me, the one that was passing on what it really meant to be a man, that very same man I wished dead.

I wasn't even an hour into the job when my neighbor came outside to tell me my dad was going to the hospital. He had been using a sledge hammer to break up the concrete when the handle snapped. On the upswing, the head of the sledge hammer broke off and flew into the air, before crashing down on my dad's skull. I'm not sure exactly how old I was, but I know I was too big to break down and cry in public which is exactly what I did.

Here was my dad, the man that cared for me, that raised me, that formed me into the person I am today, the man I loved heading to the hospital while I was complaining about doing a little work because deep down I wasn't happy with the man he made me.

I wanted to be someone else.

To this day, regardless of any problems or fights we have had, I have never again wished anything bad to happen to my father, or anyone else for that matter. To be perfectly honest, I see the man I am: hardworking, dedicated, tough, and I am nothing but grateful for the work my dad did in me. He looked at my soul and gave me the tools I needed to be the man that he saw in me, a man I didn't even know existed.

The funny thing is, I can't even remember what was so important that I risked giving up my birthright, but I remember what happened to my dad.

So while I could go on about how our Father in heaven does the very same for us, carefully studying us and equipping us to become the people He designed us to be, and how when we desire to be something we are not, despite how He created us and the plans He has for us, we are negating all the work He has done in us, I will just leave you with a passage out of the Psalms:

13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand—
when I awake, I am still with you.

Psalm 139

el chupacabra writes

my symphony

2011-12-14T11:55:00.000-08:00

I play the guitar.

Well, not so much play as string a few chords together. Cut me some slack, I picked it up when I was 30.

My father in law is a fantastic guitarist and I wanted my kids to learn from their grandpa so I bought my oldest a guitar for Christmas. Of course I knew nothing, but I knew I would be the go to guy when grandpa wasn’t around so I had the father in law give me a quick lesson on how to tune the guitar, then he showed me a few chords, then a couple of songs, then I went out and bought my first guitar.

I always wanted to play the guitar. I even dreamed of being a rock star.

When I was a kid, every Saturday morning I would get up and watch Kidd Video. For those of you who don’t know, Kidd Video was a show in the mid 80’s that mixed popular music, music videos, and some pretty lame animation. In the show, there was a rock band called the Copycats made up of, well, cats. They would play hit songs, or rather lipsync them, in an alternate reality called Flipside.

Every time the Copycats would play I would have this fantasy that I was playing guitar in a band, something from Van Halen in the David Lee Roth era, behind a curtain. The crowd going crazy screaming for us,

Van Halen!

As the curtain slowly lifted they would see us, well ME, playing the guitar just like Eddie and the crowd would be so enamored with my amazing skill that I would be famous! Just one problem, like the Copycats I had no talent, no drive, and at best all I could do was fake it, but the fantasy never died.

I have often found myself in a church service, a conference, any gathering of believers and see those folks on stage using their musical ability to help others connect with, become closer too, find Jesus longing to be up there with them. Wanting to find my voice so I could sing my song to Him.

So for these past 8 years I have been playing the guitar and dreaming. Dreaming of the day I will be up there, good enough to sing to Him. I’ve been getting better thanks to the internet, a lot of very patient friends, and even a few lessons, but I just don’t have “it”. I have seen people with “it”, I know people with “it”, hell my son is finding “it”, but I just don’t have “it”.

At first it was kind of a blow to the ego. I have always prided myself on being able to do anything, but I can’t do it. I just can’t seem to get good enough.

For a while I was a little depressed. I mean I have this song in me, I know it’s there, but I just can’t get it out.

How is Jesus going to hear my song if I can’t sing?

Then today I'm in my shop building some bunk beds. You know, milling the rough cut wood, sanding everything smooth, planing and joining. I am listening to some music, dancing a bit, and I start thinking about how great it is to serve Him while doing something I enjoy.

I start thinking about all things I’ve built down here, all the walls I’ve painted, all the welding, all the digging, all the people I have invested in from all over the US and the world all because I followed His call.

I start thinking about playing football, coaching football, and helping my players to visit other countries through football. I think about the connections, the opportunities, the friendships I've made all because of a sport that He gave me the ability to play.

I start to think about the times I’ve had with my wife and kids, not just the fun times, but the tough times where we have had to rely on Him to make it through. I think about the games we’ve played, the talks we’ve had, and the times we’ve spent together all because He blessed me with a fantastic wife and three of the coolest kids on the planet.

I start to think about all these things: serving Him, using the skills He has given me, enjoying what He has blessed me with and I realize they are my song. I don’t need to fantasize about being on stage to sing Him a song, I’ve already composed a symphony, all for Him, all because of Him.

ecwrites

interview at exfake.com

2011-12-07T06:30:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I received an email from Bernard Shuford over at ExFake.com. He said they were launching a new blog that was trying to express "genuine, authentic Christianity" and he wanted to post an interview with yours truly. While I'm not sure that I always live out a genuine , authentic Christianity, I do try.

So head over to ExFake.com and checkout the interview , and while your there do what you can: follow, like, subscribe and interact.

ecwrites

http://exfake.com/2011/12/07/an-interview-with-steve-wright-el-chupacabra/

fill up

2011-11-29T10:01:00.000-08:00

The guys told me they would be done around 3:30 yesterday, so when I left at around 4 o'clock to pick up the boys from school, I thought they would be ready to go when I got back. These guys were doing a little work for us here on campus and they had never been to our small town so I told their boss I would drop them off at the bus stop when they finished.

As we pull up to the campus, I see one of them shimmying up the scaffold with some materials. It was an hour later then quitting time by now so we decide to sit in the car for what could only be their last few minutes of work. Over a half hour later, I look up to see them plugging away so finally ask them if they were done for the day.

“We have to finish up today. The boss told us we aren't coming back tomorrow.”

Ok, that was news to me, but that's how things work down here, Pura Vida.

It's not until the clock is pushing 6 that they finish up and we head down the hill. I drop the first one off in our tiny little town so he can catch the bus to the big city, but the other guy is heading down by my house and I would feel like a complete douche if I didn't at least drop him off at the second of his 2 bus stops. It saves him money and time and it only costs me 5 minutes.

As we drive down the hill, we pass by a gas station that is completely packed. All the pumps are in use and dozens of cars spilling out onto the road blocking one lane of this two-lane thoroughfare. At least 100 cars are all vying for their turn with one of 6 pumps.

Photo by ecwrites

I had no idea what was going but I do know a little something about the government and various markets down here, I mean I am a scholarly gentleman and all. I know the price of gas here is set by the government. I know the change in price happens once a month and the government announces the new price couple of days before it changes. And, I know that If there is going to be a spike in the price, everyone makes a run on the pumps to save a dime or two.

Usually it's the only gas station we pass on our way home, but dropping this guy off means we pass another 3 and each one is packed. By now I am convinced. There will be a price increase tomorrow and since we live off a budget, so I better fill up now.

I head over to my favorite gas station, favorite because there is never a line, but there is a line a half mile long, seriously. The entire road, at least the side of the road heading towards the gas station is a line. Now I haven't eaten all day, and the boys are not only tired from being in school for 9 hours, but for having sat in the car an extra 2 hours, so I make an executive decision.

I will fill up in the morning!

I left the tank on E last night, but as soon as I crank her over, the little gas pump looking dash light comes on. Running out of gas sucks, but for a diesel it's extremely bad and even worse, I'm on my way to drop Stephen off at school so light traffic would really help me out, but of course the traffic is ridiculous.

As I pull into the first gas station I can find I am greeted by the attendant wagging his finger back and forth saying there is no gas, no diesel, nothing! I head over to another which is not only without gas, it's barricaded. I pass by another with a line a million cars deep and its too late to sit and wait. I try another which has no cars, but there is a different finger wagging attendant.

At this point I don't have enough gas to make it to Stephen's school, let alone get my car home, so I give him some money and tell him to take a cab while I hunt for gas. One more is barricaded, then another, then another. I decide to go back to the only station I saw with cars, but while waiting in line, the attendant comes running up to me, again with the finger wagging, saying there is no diesel, gas but no diesel.

I decide to head back towards the house because I figure it's better to leave my gasless beast as close as possible to home in case I need to get a tow. Then, just as she starts to run a bit rough I see it; a tiny little gas station tucked in between a house and a chicken joint. It looks like an oasis surrounded by moving trucks, school buses and exhaust spewing machines, like my beast, all gathered for a drink. As I sneak into line my heart does the wave!

Once the diesel starts flowing, my panic subsides and I am calm enough to chat with the attendant. He tells me the tanker truck drivers are on strike. Initially I just wanted enough gas for the day, maybe tomorrow as well, but I decide the wise thing would be to fill her up which means I have some time to think.

My first thought is to mentally berate the drivers. They aren't hurting the people who hand out raises, they're hurting the little guy, me! Then I get a little pious. I am being hindered in God's work and I'm sure the big guy is going to be pissed. Then I switch over to thinking about those poor basketball players in the NBA and all the fans that haven't been able to satiate their desire for seeing tattooed thugs throwing a ball into a hoop because of their strike. Then I get a little frustrated with my adopted home country, I mean how backward can a country be to let its gas stations to run out of gas?

Finally, it gets a bit quiet in my head, and I start thinking about what really happened. I saw the warning signs, gas stations packed to the hilt like we were reliving the 70's. I made assumptions, I'm smart I knew what was going on, why bother asking, right? I was suffering the consequences of my own foolishness.

In my effort to be the smartest guy in the room, to be counter-cultural, to be a radical leader within the church I ignored the wisdom of tradition, the context of our faith, even how our cultural norms and biases should be addressed, and not just ignored, when building a community of faith. I saw how newwine, new ideas, a new ethos when stuffed into old wine skins, oldministries, old bureaucracies, old ways of doing things withoutallowing a little room for growth can tear apart everything leavingus nothing but stained hands. I started thinking about our responsibility to Christ and to the Church and how he showed us that even though she may need to change a bit here or there, we have not been sent to destroy her, but to lift her up.

In the end I am left with two questions:

How do we lift up the Church while at the same time helping her change?

and...

How did I get here from my quest for diesel?

ecwrites

giving thanks

2011-11-24T09:01:00.001-08:00

Our forefathers left their homes, their families, the stability that comes from routine and embarked on a journey that would change their lives, and history forever.

Photo by: Ross

Motivated by the hope of religious freedom, the possibility of riches, maybe even the desire for adventure they arrived with faith. Faith they would live to see the shore and the land would sustain them. What they found was a harsh and unfamiliar land where they had to fight to survive.

We love to romanticize our history, but the truth is these colonists fought, often violently, in order to make it in the new world. They killed native peoples, they stole from them, they ransacked their homes and robbed their graves. At the point of the sword they tried to conquer the land, but still did not have enough to survive.

Despite the destruction and chaos, a group of natives, a tribe of “Indians”, looked at these undeserving pilgrims with pity. The colonists were done; no food, no hope, on the brink of death when help arrived. The natives taught them how to hunt and fish in this new environment, how to plant and harvest new crops, how to live here in the new world. We can speculate why, but regardless of their intentions the natives showed mercy.

It was in the midst of this failure, this pain, this death on both sides that those first “Americans”, native and foreign, sat down together to give thanks on the first Thanksgiving.

Over 200 hundred years later our country was again headed towards collapse. We found ourselves in civil war, a war that was taking the lives of our best and brightest by the thousands and our future looked bleak. The south wanted to secede from the Union, the country was expanding west at the cost of numerous lives, and our relationship with the natives had only worsened resulting in bloodshed of incomprehensible proportions. If there was anytime in our history that we could say there was nothing to be thankful for, it was then, but...

It was in the midst of the Civil War, in the midst of a nations failure, in the midst of unspeakable pain, in the midst of an obscene number of deaths all over this nation that President Abraham Lincoln solidified our tradition of giving thanks by setting aside one day to do so as a nation, Thanksgiving.

So even though I won't be celebrating today, even though I will spend another Thanksgiving away from my family, even though I'm far away from my home and my culture, even though I'm not sure what the future holds, even though I'm stressed out with a life that seems to be piling on more and more responsibility, even though the world seems to be collapsing around us I will sit down tomorrow with new friends and adopted family to give thanks for:

"...the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy."

Abraham Lincoln, Thanksgiving Proclamation 1863

ecwrites

The entirety of Lincoln's proclamation.

By the President of the United States of America.

A Proclamation.

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consiousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union.

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United States to be affixed.

Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the Unites States the Eighty-eighth.

By the President: Abraham Lincoln

William H. Seward,
Secretary of State

the alaskan funk—short term mission gone…meh…

2011-11-22T08:12:00.001-08:00

The other day I received an email from a reader about a short term trip he served on. We have all heard the stories about lives changed, babies held, and the hungry fed. We know what can happen on a well-planned, well-executed short-term missions trip, but what about the others?

Here is an account of one of the others. The story is long, but needs to be heard.

ecwrites

Last week I spent 5 days in Alaska on a mission trip. Our goal was to finish up a lengthy punch list of projects intended to get part of the hosting church’s building closer to an initial building inspection. Stairs/handrails brought up to code—electrical conduit run—drop ceilings installed in kitchen areas—vent-a-hoods and exhaust fans installed—all the stuff that city inspectors and fire marshals require in order to operate any type of commercial facility.

10 men ranging from ages 20 to mid-60’s from South Texas flew 4200 miles (one way) to donate our construction skills and time in an effort to “advance the kingdom.”

I don’t really know what “advance the kingdom” means, but it seems like a good fit.

So, we’re fed three hearty meals a day at the church. We’re separated into groups of two or three to stay at different church member’s homes. And we’re only asked to do inside jobs because, let’s face it, we’re all from South Texas and this is Alaska in November…those things aren’t even close to the same.

The hospitality was fantastic. The food was delicious. The homes that we stayed in made us all feel like we were part of their families.

So, this is the part of the tale where we metaphorically land on the carrier and announce “mission accomplished.” This is where I’m supposed to talk about the bonds that we formed within the workgroup and what a wonderful experience we had enjoying the magnanimous hospitality of these wonderful Alaskans. This is where I’m supposed to thank God for the ability to go—serve—interact with folks that I might not have ever had the opportunity to share life with had it not been for this short term missionary opportunity.

After 4 days of contemplation and analyzing this trip, I find myself increasingly disillusioned. I know we went there to meet a need. I know we went there to offer help. I know we went there to minister to the needs of this small congregation. I know that we went there with all the right motives. I know that the work needed to be done to further their project toward completion. I know that it was all seasoned with the best of intentions and that we exceeded their expectations.

Why do I feel so funky about all of this?

Oh, wait! I know why I’m jacked up over this trip. It’s probably because over $4000 was spent on airfare to get us all there and back.

It has something to do with the fact that the part of the building we were doing work on was 12 years old and had never been occupied because of a lack of completion.

I’m certain it has something to do with the observations that this all took place near downtown Anchorage (not out in the wilderness) where there were 5 churches within a 3 block radius.

And…you know…if I’d known that these folks were potentially competing with the mission across the street instead of partnering with them…Oooo…let’s not go there.

Call me naïve, cynical, overtly zealous, or just plain stupid if you like, but here’s my analysis of the funk:

· You partner with other churches in the area, thereby, developing long-term relationships with your neighbors to collectively meet the unique needs of the community that you share.

o You DO NOT ask a group to front the bill for airfare in order to get free labor from men that you’ll never see again. It’s the missional equivalent of a “one night stand” (the term missionary position should be worked in here, but I’m not that clever).

· You analyze the needs of the community and weigh out whether or not the facility you’re trying to complete has any tangible value in relationship to those needs. If not, you leave it be (it’s set for 12 years—couldn’t be that critical to the overall mission of this particular church).

o You DO NOT prioritize the completion of a building which has never been used simply because “we have to finish what someone else started” or because someone in the congregation offers a large sum of money to facilitate the completion of a portion of the project.

· You determine what the direction of your church is and how God intends to use it BEFORE you engage in costly renovations without any concrete ideas about what you’re going to do with this structure once it’s completed.

o You DO NOT repeat the mantra, “someday God’s gonna give us some direction” or “once this is complete our mandate from God will become self-evident.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There was a crazy homeless guy that was around the place quite a bit. He was allowed to sleep in the church’s van and camp out inside the building sometimes while we were there. He was obviously deranged and easily agitated. He was tolerated, but never welcome. Most of the members of the church avoided eye contact and relied heavily on one or two people to control / direct the crazy homeless guy.

No one engaged him.
No one made eye contact with him.
No one gave any indication that he was present.
Everyone tightened up a little with fear when he was present.

Would $4000 and the attention of 10 Texans have made a meaningful impact in this man’s life? Probably not.

Would an institution devoted to feeding homeless folks like this man every week have benefitted from $4000 and the effort of 10 volunteers for a week? Most definitely.

Will the money, effort, and time consigned to this Alaskan church’s building ever be justified through service to the community? Well, at last check, no one seemed to have much of an idea.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Can we just cut through the BS?

Anchorage has a huge homeless population. Why in the hell are we riding the non-committal fence of “praying that God will lead us to understand what our unique mission is in this community?” FEED THE HUNGRY—not feed the overweight Texans.

You’ve got 20,000 ft² that hasn’t been used for anything other than a 12 year draw for mission groups from the lower 48? LET THE HOMELESS IN OUT OF THE COLD—not let the Texans avoid the cold with inside-only projects.

Anchorage seems to have as many churches as any small city in the Bible Belt. Why aren’t these churches working together for any other reason than to eliminate the $4000 captured by Delta and forgotten like it was just spare change found between the cushions of the pews? BE GOOD STEWARDS OF OUR BENEVOLENCE FUNDS—don’t waste it on frivolous self-affirming travel agendas.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

All the men and women involved with this endeavor were good people. They had good intentions. They probably feel very good about how it all turned out and the means by which it was carried out. There were good things that resulted from the trip.

But there are far greater needs in this world than the fixing of stairs and the running of conduit. It’s an appeal to the lowest common denominator. It’s a lazy way to serve and it’s an inefficient use of time, energy, and money.

It’s leveraging a nice destination in order to gain free labor. It’s fun, it’s somewhat beneficial, and it generates a good feeling among the participants. We exceeded their expectations because their expectations were too low.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Final shot of Bruce Almighty is a gradual close-up of a dirty homeless guy holding a sign. As the shot grows closer the man’s face begins to morph into the face of Morgan Freeman (who plays God). The visual message is that God IS the least of these. God IS the crazy homeless guy with a short fuse and a mean disposition.

How dare we ignore the crazy homeless guy! How dare we avoid eye contact with the dirty disenfranchised! How dare we heat a building for 12 years while the homeless sleep on park benches throughout the Alaskan winter which lasts a really long time! How dare we complain about the length of the flight or the width of the seat on the plane or the lack of leg room as long as God is hungry, cold, weak, and lonely!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Last week I spent 5 days in Alaska on a “mission” trip. Our goal was to finish up a lengthy punch list of projects intended to get part of the hosting church’s building closer to an initial inspection. Stairs/handrails brought up to code—electrical conduit run—drop ceilings installed in kitchen areas—vent-a-hoods and exhaust fans installed—all the stuff that city inspectors and fire marshals require in order to operate any type of commercial facility.

I’m ashamed that I ignored the homeless guy in order to work on a building.

I’m ashamed that I ignored God.

I’m ashamed and confused about what to do next.

Where do we go from here?

My name is BONAR CRUMP and I’m searching for the next frontier of faith. As a writer and researcher, I’m constantly evaluating trends within the Christian community. One trend that I abhor is our tendency to value the institutions, systems, and models more than people.

it's been tough

2011-11-16T08:14:00.000-08:00

The last couple of weeks have been pretty tough on me.

As missionaries we plan our lives in chunks. We make commitments of 2-4 years to a mission or an agency. Beyond the current commitment it's almost impossible to know what the future holds.

On a spiritual level it's great! By living out a more temporal lifestyle not only are we following Jesus' teachings, but we are also preventing ourselves from laying down roots. Roots that might prevent us from living the life He wants us to live because we are stuck. Stuck in a mortgage, stuck in a job, stuck in a rut!

I wonder if that's what Jesus was getting at?

On a productivity level it's fantasticas well. Over the past decade I can't think of anyone more productive than Steve Jobs. Why could he do so much in so little time, other than the fact that he was an absolute genius? He knew his time was finite! I know it's a bit cliche at this point, but here is what Steve had to say about the motivation of limited time:

Remembering that I'll be dead soon isthe most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all externalexpectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what istruly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose.You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

Steve Jobs

Since we live from moment to moment, commitment to commitment, I know there is a limit to my work. Icannot sit back and wait for tomorrow because I might not be here.

BUT,

On a human level, it sucks. Not knowing what you'll be doing or where you'll be doing it puts us in direct opposition our human NEED to know where our next meal will come from. We are, by nature, planners so living without a long-term plan, or the ability to make one, causes us, orat least me, to go into an emotional tailspin ending in depression. That's just where I've been lately.

Smack dab in the middle of a funk.

To cope I've been doing what I always do, thinking about times when life was a little more stable; back when I was a cop.

I think about my partners: guys that I would have, and still would, die for.

I think about the calls, especially the funny ones: like that time where my black uniform pants split from zipper to waistline exposing my tightie-whities in the middle of a house full of citizens, cops, and firefighters.

I think about the chases: like the one where I chased a car through the Wal Mart parking lot and when I got close he ghost-rided the car into a sign and ran into the store and I chased him and tackled him right in front of the candy aisle and when I walked him out of the store in cuffs the entire store cheered.

I think about everything: the blood, the guts, the excitement, the camaraderie, but there are some things I don't think about...well... not on purpose.

Photo by: Matt Doane

There are some things, some cases that you can't shake, and they aren't the ones you would think.

There is something that happens to a cop that makes them different. That switch that makes someone turn away from conflict, from chaos, from death gets flipped and cops start to manage, if not enjoy, sights that would sicken most. I have seen more death and destruction than you could imagine and have not spent a single moment in emotional distress, but you never get used to the mistreatment, the beating, the abuse of children.

These are the cases that follow me, that stain my memory, that flood my mind when I see something, when I hear something, when I smell something. I can't control when they come, these memories, hell I can't even control how I react. Sometimes I get nightmares, other times I can't sleep, but lately I can do nothing but cry.

I forget the names, but the faces, the faces are indelible. Innocent faces betrayed by a trusted friend, a pastor, a brother, their fathers. The worst memories belong to the kids I knew before. Not always before the crime, but before the reports, before the doctors, before the court dates. You can't even begin to understand the pain a child feels when they hate their father because of what he has done, but hate themselves for putting daddy in prison.

I can usually keep them in check, but the more information that comes out about Penn State, the more the students riot, the more smug those involved become, the more they try and justify leaving that coach to prey on the innocent, the more excuses I hear, the more I think about the lives I saw destroyed by sexual abuse and it gets to me.

So yeah, these last couple of weeks have been pretty tough on me, but how tough do you think it was, these last couple of weeks, months, years, for the kids?

ecwrites

Dedicated to all the boosters, all the rioters, all the whiners, all those putting trivialities, like football, over the lives of our children, ourfuture!

choose this day

2011-11-03T12:04:00.000-07:00

I started writing to share a little bit about who I am. I wanted to pass on my thoughts, my feelings, my insight with someone, anyone who would listen, in an “authentic” way.

Authentic

Authentic is the buzz word for the modern church. We throw it out in meetings, on blogs, in books. We say we are authentic, but how many of us live out our lives authentically? Even in the midst of instant almost infinite access to information for vetting BS via the internet, how easy is it to be whoever you want to be?

I can type away, anonymously, telling you how great, how smart, how much I have this all figured out, but deep down I am just a heap of a human being that wants desperately to be liked.

self-centered

self-serving

self-righteous

I hack away at this keyboard, giving you 900 words or less of carefully edited “life”. Just enough life to show the best side of me. The side of me that is right, the side of me that looks like a saint, the side that justifies your readership.

Oh sure, I'll show you my “faults”, but only if it enhances the story of me.

I worry about what to tell, when to tell, and how to tell you about me because I am terrified that if you knew

who I was:

a beer-drinking pot-smoking porn addicted loser jock that knocked his girlfriend and dropped out of college

and who I am:

a guy saved by grace who is just winging it, fighting a daily battle to return to my former self

that you would run away, in droves.

Why the catharsis?

There is an old gardener named Tulio that works with me. Tulio is a great guy, but he is just the gardener. He works up here because he worked here before we bought the property and he worked for the former owner because he worked for the owner before him. I think Tulio has been here since the property has been owned, but regardless, he's just the gardener.

The other day Tulio saw that I put a bag of old clothes outside of my shop. They weren't really in the way, I just wanted a tidy shop so I put them outside. They weren't in the rain, but during rainy season everything is in the rain and they were going to get ruined. Tulio asked me if he could have the clothes, and since I didn't want them, “Of course!” I told him.

Tulio then tells me how he knows a family in town, just 1 km down hill, that have come upon tough times. They have no money, they have no hope, and here Tulio, the gardener, is looking for ways to help, and I don't think he has much either.

So Tulio, the gardener, is saving old clothes that a missionary threw out because of a minor inconvenience to help a family in need. Tulio, and I'm not sure if he is even a follower of Christ, who is just a gardener, is acting more like Christ, more like a missionary than the missionary all because the missionary is so wrapped up in fixing some of the problems in missions that he forgot to live out his mission.

I tell you this story not because it makes me look good, hell, there is NO WAY to spin this to make me look good, I tell you because I want you to know me, the real me. The me that doesn't get it, the me that screws up, the me that fails, the authentic me.

I struggle everyday with the desire live for myself, but I choose this day to follow him.

Tomorrow is a different day and a different choice!

ecwrites

i could do that!

2011-11-01T09:11:00.000-07:00

Most people assume that I follow sports because I play and coach football, but I have about as much desire to sit and watch the “game” as your typical fan of Glee. I can get into the highlights and I do find myself trying borrow technique and scheme to use with my team, but as far as enjoying the totality of the show, well it does nothing for me.

But...

Once every couple of years, when nations gather together to pit their elite athletes, the pinnacle of their respective sporting programs against the best the rest of the world has to offer, I am obsessed. It doesn't matter the sport: gymnastics, long-jump, even curling, I become a fan. I research the rules, I check out the players and their stats, I even try, for the more subjectively scored sports, to test my judging ability against that of the professionals.

So for the past couple of weeks while y'all in the States have been celebrating the speed, power, and athleticism that is the NFL and lamenting the delay of the NBA season, I was enjoying the wonder that is the Pan-American Games.

Now, I'm going to let you in on a little secret about me, I can do anything.

Seriously, I am one of those guys that, no matter what the activity, thinks...no KNOWS, they can do it and do it well. Call it boldness, call it arrogance, call it a good up-bringing by a mom who was constantly telling her progeny they were the best at everything.

Regardless what you call it, I call it self-confidence.

This self-assurance is never more evident then while watching one of my beloved international sporting festivals. I see the athlete, I watch his performance, and I imagine myself in their place, and not the kind of imagine like, “I wish I could do that.”, but usually more of, “I should have done [insert whatever athletic event here cuz I can do them all]”

Ok, I'm back in college watching a video montage of the life of some gymnast just before he competes. The video showed how he had worked most of his life honing his craft, how he had overcome hardship and injury to become one of the best gymnasts in the world, how he could do a headstand on a can of soup.

Yup, a headstand on a can of soup!

It should really come as no surprise that the entire time this video is playing, especially when they show him doing the headstand, my mind was saying,

I could do that!

Picture this, its late at night, there's a Campbell's soup can in the center of a typical apartment living room, all the furniture pushed out to the edges of the room providing just enough room for a 6'6” defensive lineman to spread out and do his thing.

On the first attempt I realize that 260+ pounds pressing down on a metal cylinder 2 inches in diameter hurts your head a bit. Being the intelligent guy I am, I grab a couch pillow and put it on top of the can.

After making arrangements to protect my scalp (clue #1 that this was not going to end well), I get on all fours, gently place my head on the pillow, and kick my feet up into position. As my feet swing into place, the can rolls to the side sending the full weight of my body crashing down onto my head. Now, had I not had a neck the size of an average man's thigh I would probably be writing this from my wheelchair using some sort of eye-tracking computer screen, but I guess all that time in the gym payed off.

I spent the next week barely able to turn my head. A painful reminder of a very important lesson:

While I know I can do anything, I am often not ready.

I lacked the years of training, the expert coaching, and the dedication to the sport of gymnastics, or can standing, that this guy had, and it almost ended quite tragically.

There is something about the human condition that drives us to the spotlight. Whether we are athletic or not, extroverted or not, we all dream of being of that person up on the platform holding a bouquet and tearing up as our national anthem is played. We fool ourselves into thinking we are ready, ready for the competition and obviously ready for the gold.

Christians are no different. We have our “sporting” events too, they are:

The Christian Conference.

We gather together to be near, learn from, and celebrate the achievements of the elite of Christendom. Their stories inspire us, the dramatic growth of their congregations awe us, their teaching pushes us to change our routine. All the while we think, sometimes we even say,

I could do that!

But...

Just because we want to be the next great Christian leader, just because we think we can, doesn't mean we are ready!

ecwrites

Have you ever had to wait for something? Have you ever failed because you were in a position, but just not ready? Have you ever looked back and thought how perfect God's timing is?

ministry: while not when

2011-10-26T12:26:00.000-07:00

Todays the day!

We’ve been preparing for this moment for months. All the time we have sacrificed with our friends and family is about to pay off.

The skit is dialed in. We have a copy of the music in Spanish. Everyone has their props, and the costumes look awesome. We practiced last night and everyone looked great! Don’t forget to grab the extra batteries for the boom box.

Take about 5 copies of the bible tracts translated in Spanish. Make sure you have your English copy too. We will try and have translators for you, but if not, you can always just have them read it. Remember, it’s the Holy Spirit’s job to get them to believe anyway!

Don’t forget to grab your Spanish/English bibles and the copy of your testimony translated into Spanish. I know you are nervous about this, but we have practiced saying them in Spanish before, this is nothing new. Just let the Spirit guide you.

Ok, let’s load up in the van, but remember to keep the doors locked. We are headed through some parts of the city that have a lot of homeless and beggars. We don’t want any problems so don’t look at them. Try to ignore them so we can get to the park for our outreach event.

Photo "borrowed" from the internet. In no way is it the group in question!

Remember, we are here to do ministry!

I want to say that is an entirely fictional account, but unfortunately, it’s not.

I want to say that I have never participated in “ministry” like this, but I can’t.

For years I looked at ministry in terms of when.

When could we have an event?

When could we plan/practice/prepare everything?

When could we start and more importantly when could I finish?

I was completely content with compartmentalizing my life.

There was a time for work, a time for play.

A time for family, a time for friends.

A time for ministry, and a time to relax.

To everything, turn, turn, turn..

There is a season, turn, turn, turn…

I cannot even imagine how many opportunities I missed, how many lives left untouched, how many relationships I let slide to prepare for ministry, relationships that could have resulted in ministry, all because it was not my time to do ministry.

To be honest, I was entirely content living a life divided. It’s easier.

You can pace yourself.

You can plan your day.

You can plan "you" time!

Anyway, that’s what Jesus did, right?

So I’m in language school one day trying to read some passages of scripture, in Spanish, specifically the passages where Jesus is calling the first disciples. As I’m reading, I run across this word mientras, and I have to look it up.

Mientras = while

So I reread the passages again, emphasizing this word mientras/while, and I am hit with a big ol' shot of reality. What the scripture says is different from what I thought it said. It says that Jesus, while He was going from here to there, while He was walking by the lake, while He was living His life, saw some guys and called them to be disciples.

For my entire Christian life I thought Jesus was on His way to meet these particular guys. You know, seeking these guys out specifically, and maybe He was, but the scripture doesn’t say that. It says Jesus found them while He was doing something else.

He was doing ministry while He was living His life.

I know, it sounds dumb. Whether or not the author uses the word mientras/while doesn't change the fact that Jesus called the disciples. However, if that while is important, if the author specifically meant to use it to talk about the way Jesus did ministry, this passage has HUGE implications to our faith, to our witness, and to our ministry.

If ministry is done while we are living life, then the when we do ministry becomes always.

Think it through.

If I am living my life while looking for opportunities to do ministry, my work place becomes my ministry, my family time becomes ministry, my lunch break becomes ministry.

Everything thing I do and everywhere I go becomes part of my ministry.

So as followers of Christ, if we want to live like Christ, I mean really live like Christ, we need to start looking at ministry in terms of while and not when.

Makes living out our faith a whole lot tougher, huh?

ecwrites

Are you compartmentalizing your life? Have you ever passed up opportunities to do ministry because it wasn’t time or because you were on your way to “do” ministry? What would change in your life if ministry became while and not when?

a line in the sand

2011-10-25T12:29:00.000-07:00

The other day someone called me a blogger. Well actually, the specific words were “real” blogger. I’m not entirely sure what that means and while I was a bit flattered, I was also overcome with guilt and shame because…

I don’t like blogging.

This is not a self-deprecating ploy to elicit your praise, I seriously don’t like it.

Now before you run off and unsubscribe, unfriend, and unlike me out of existence, let me explain.

I am a complicated.

I am creative.

I even like to think I’m eloquent, but words on paper, they don’t flow for me.

I have all these thoughts rolling around upstairs, but I just can’t get them out. They say reading helps, but I hate reading too.

Maybe I’m a little ADD from growing up alongside the computer and video games, or maybe it’s because I’m an auditory learner, or maybe I’m just a bit on the lazy side. Regardless, I struggle with finding my voice as a writer. So…

When I’m blogging, I feel I am not giving you the true El Chupacabra!

That witty, intelligent, insightful El Chupacabra that exists, and quite possibly ONLY exists, in my mind!

But there is more.

I can bang away on this keyboard, spewing some sort of cathartic rant, acting as though the only witness to this moment, perhaps the most painful/sad/personal moment of my life, is this collection of wires, chips, and plastic in front of me, but the moment I hit send…

We have, through our tweets, status updates, and posts, created quasi-friendships with a depth of knowledge that rivals, and at times surpasses, the intimacy we share with our closest friends and even our spouses. We hide behind anonymity and context to explain away interactions with our internet pals that would make a trucker blush, but truth is, if we have to justify our actions maybe we’ve already crossed the line!

I am by no means calling for us to live out our virtual existence in a plastic sort of way. Truth be told I am a huge fan of vulnerability and authenticity in the church, including online, but don’t forget that behind that twitter handle is an actual person and those same norms for appropriate cross-gender behavior still apply.

Regardless of where that person happens to be in the world we need to ask ourselves,

Would I say __________ to him/her if they were in the room with me,

or if my spouse/significant other were with us?

Ok, so maybe I don’t hate blogging as much as I am frustrated by my inability to truly express myself, but more importantly I fear some of the consequences of uber-familiar relationships with virtual strangers. As someone that has seen the pain and destruction caused by broken relationships, I can tell you that it always begins by flirting with that line drawn in the sand, appropriateness.

ecwrites

How intimate is too intimate online? Is there room for double entendre in Christian circles? Have you drawn a line in the sand? what is it?

where is el chupacabra?

2011-10-20T12:57:00.000-07:00

I guess, no, I hope that by now someone, anyone is asking,

Where is El Chupacabra?

Truth is I’m blocked.

Not writer’s block or anything like that. Honestly, I have a bunch of posts rattling around the problem is…

TIME!

I’m time blocked.

Between work and football and school and leaving all those to goof off in Atlanta I have found myself a bit backed up.

The only time I have lately is late and I’m not my spry youthful self anymore. Staying up until 2am to get homework done is taking its toll on me.

I hope to crank out something this weekend, so please, pretty please, hang in there with me.

ecwrites

hospitality in the ATL

2011-10-11T22:17:00.000-07:00

I read once that in ancient times, especially among eastern nomadic tribesman, that if you could just make it to someone's tent, regardless of your position or standing, you were considered a guest. Even enemies were considered honored invitees if they could just touch part of the tent before an ax, a sword, or a round smooth stone ended their life.

The way they treated their guests meant something to these people. It wasn't our modern idea of hospitality where a couch, a leaky inflatable mattress, or even a few blankets piled up on the floor means your welcome to stay, but not too long cuz I got a life too you know! No, in ancient times, biblical times, being a guest meant the best food, the softest bed, and even the life of your host's own family over your own.

This past week, JamieTheVWM and I spent some time in Atlanta and I can honestly say, I have never felt more welcomed, outside of being with my family, in my entire life. Gladly I can tell you that no one had to offer their daughters to save me from a throng of horny townsmen hell bent on having their way with me, but that doesn't make the hospitality of my hosts any less heroic.

What impacted me the most during our time in the states is how much I had to learn about hospitality. So, in an attempt to pay it forward, here are a few things I learned about what hospitality is, and what it is not:

Hospitality is saying hi even though I'm a stranger.

Hospitality is offering me a seat because I look a little road weary.

Hospitality is listening to what I have to say even though I'm just the sidekick.

Hospitality is picking out a perfect slice of pizza just by looking at me.

Hospitality is taking time out of your busy day just to get to know me

Hospitality is not judging me because we differ in our beliefs.

Hospitality is giving up your bed and taking the couch.

Hospitality is sharing your life with me and making me feel accepted.

Hospitality is spending time with me even though you're tired.

Hospitality is sacrificing your rainy day fund so we could have a nice meal.

Hospitality is picking me up so I won't get lost.

And finally,

Hospitality is not saying a word, not one word, when you hear someone's ass blowing up in the bathroom just steps away from where you are conversing and enjoying a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

So to all of you that treated me as if I mattered,

Thank You!

ecwrites

What is your best memory of being a guest? Is there some area or region where you have experienced overwhelming hospitality? How can you better live out the concept of hospitality?

lightning rod

2011-09-29T11:09:00.000-07:00

When life gets hard, or the ol' lady is driving you nuts, or ALL your kids just up and decide to boycott their school work, you need someone to dump on. Someone that doesn't judge, someone that doesn't one-up, someone that just listens.

A lightning rod.

I want to tell you that I came up with that little nugget all by myself, but I heard it from some speaker at some conference. While the name of the guy has slipped my mind, the idea has become part of me.

Its easy to be the storm, to find someone and unleash a steady stream of hate-filled verbal diarrhea. Seriously, its part of our nature to bitch and moan. The only concern is finding someone safe who won't sell you out for their own 30 pieces. Being the lightning rod, that’s hard.

You have to keep your ears open and your mouth shut. You have to be concerned, but not preachy. And perhaps most importantly, you have to be available, but somewhat distant.

I would like to say I possess some superhuman ability to listen and comfort those in need. An ability that brings folks from all over the globe to my virtual doorstep to vent. I would like to think that I am created to be a lightning rod, but its most likely due to my distance, actual physical distance, that makes me a safe bet. Regardless, I have become a lightning rod to many.

Last week one of these storms rolled my way. A missionary working for another organization called me up to tell me about some marital issues he is experiencing. Before he even starts talking about the stresses, frustrations, and fights they are dealing with, he tells me that nobody knows.

What?!

This guy is working for a missions agency and has a church back home. How is it possible that he has never told anyone? So I start asking him some questions about his church and his organization to see whats up.

Is someone from his church or his organization caring for him and his family while they are in the field?

No! They say they are there for me, but they don't listen to what I am saying.

Is there someone, a pastor, a person, anyone to care for them?

Yes! That is the most frustrating part. They have people to care for me, but I never hear from them.

Has this person ever contacted them in the field?

Yes, but its superficial. They send me emails, but no one ever really talks to me unless they want something from me.

Has anyone organization ever asked him about their marriage?

No! Not even once. To be honest with you, I don't think they want to know.

Has he told this person about their marital issues?

No, I don't trust them.

He doesn't trust them?!

Why should he. No one is taking the time to get to know him, to build a relationship, to be his friend. He is alone in a foreign country and everyone is waiting for someone else to step up and take care of him. The family is waiting on the church, the church on the organization, and this guy is just waiting!

I don't want to be the lightning rod to all the world's missionaries. I don't have the time. I don't have the emotional energy. I don't even like people all that much, even missionaries. Anyway...

ITS NOT MY JOB!

Cold, maybe. Heartless, NO!

Its not my job because its your job!

So here is what you are going to do.

If you are a average everyday person that calls themselves a follower of Christ:

Follow Christ!

Read John 17 and pray for us like Jesus prayed for the disciples. Pray for our protection. Pray for our ministries. Pray for those who will carry on the work because of us. After your done praying for missionaries in general, pray specifically for the missionaries you know. Seriously, pray for them, by name.

When you get done praying, contact them and get to know them. You want to get a conversation started, ask them about their ministries and where they see God moving. Build a relationship. Build confidence. Build safety. If you are safe, and they need to vent, they'll seek you out as a lightening rod.

If you are a missions pastor or a member care professional for a missions agency:

First and foremost, I want to say this with as much dignity and professionalism as I can muster,

Get off your ass and do your job!

You are there to care for missionaries, so do it! You may be the only connection they have with their home country in days, weeks, months, maybe even years. It is inexcusable to NOT contact your missionaries from time to time, to NOT send them a card on their birthday, anniversary, or just because, to NOT contact them unless you need to tell them they are running in the red or you want some pictures for a brochure.

If you are already doing this, great, I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU! However, if you have maybe been a bit lazy on connecting with your missionaries, here is a little nudge to get you back on track.

ecwrites

I have never asked for this, and to be honest I feel a little weird, but please share this. Not for me, and not because this is a particularly eloquent dissertation on the subject, but because we, the collective Church, have sent out these people.

Don't forget them.

winner!

2011-09-23T09:05:00.001-07:00

Nate who suggested "The Man Who Was Thursday" by GK Chesterton, just won a bag of Britt!

You had me at anarchist!

Thanks to all for your suggestions, I will be doing a lot of reading in the near future.

poverty?

2011-09-22T09:35:00.000-07:00

Poverty: "a condition characterized by severe deprivation of basic human needs, including food, safe drinking water, sanitation facilities, health, shelter, education and information."

The United Nations

Poverty is a difficult concept for us in North America. Even though we are in the midst of an economic recession, depression, whatever you want to call it, we still live in some of the wealthiest countries on earth at one of the wealthiest times in history. Poverty, true poverty, is difficult to understand because we just don't see it.

We want to draw lines and redefine terms because we, as a people, as a nation, don't want to say that we don't have poverty. You can quote me statistics about the number of people living below the poverty line, you can call me insensitive about your situation, but there are virtually no impoverished living in the North America!

People struggling, YES; people just barely making it, YES, but in poverty, NO!

What does “poverty” look like in the states?
Virtually all those living in “poverty” have a refrigerator, a stove, and the vast majority have a microwave.
Almost all have a television, 97%, and about 2/3's of those living in “poverty” have more than one television.
Almost 80% of those in “poverty” have air conditioning and over 60% have a clothes washer, cable TV, at least one DVD player.
Over half of those in “poverty” have a cell phone and almost 1/3 have a video game system and slightly more than that have a computer.

The Heritage Foundation

Our “impoverished” count among the wealthiest in the world!

OK, I know there may be some questioning the validity of those stats because, for sure, The Heritage Foundation is a bit on the conservative side, who cares that the information is taken from census data, right? However, in the interest of fairness and for those skeptics in the crowd here are some statistics from the US government.

9% of those living in the US experienced what is termed low food security,

“These food-insecure households obtained enough food to avoid substantially disrupting their eating patterns or reducing food intake by using a variety of coping strategies, such as eating less varied diets, participating in Federal food assistance programs, or getting emergency food from community food pantries.”

5% of those living in the US experienced what is termed very low food security,

“In these food-insecure households, normal eating patterns of one or more household members were disrupted and food intake was reduced at times during the year because they had insufficient money or other resources for food. In reports prior to 2006, these households were described as “food insecure with hunger.”

United States Department of Agriculture

So, at times, 9% of our poor have to eat less or ask for some help to eat, and 5% of our poor have to skip a meal. Only 5%! Now, lets assume that those going abroad to serve the impoverished of the world come from the other 86% that are not experiencing low or very low food security, they have no context for what is poverty. Not only do our poor have food, access to medical care, an education, clean water and a wide array of governmental programs to help them, they also have things: TV's, DVD players, video games, cell phones, air conditioning.

We see poverty everywhere because we experience poverty nowhere!

Look, he is riding the bus, POVERTY! Over there, he is wearing used clothes from the states, POVERTY! Hey, the houses are ugly, there are potholes in the streets, there are dirt roads, that person has a dirt floor, POVERTY! They eat rice and beans every day, POVERTY!

El Chupacabra, you self-righteous a-hole, if we want to go into some developing nation and throw 'em a bone, even if its not poverty, what harm could that cause?

I know a long time missionary that was working with a national pastor. The area where the pastor lived was rural and the kids, including the pastors kids, did not have shoes. The missionary, thinking of a way to bless the pastor, buys the kids shoes. Those kids, feeling special, feeling blessed by this man of God, start to belittle their shoeless friends. Obviously God didn't love them, obviously they did something wrong because if they were living right, living for God, they would have shoes!

Missions should be about passing on Jesus, and NOT about providing economic support. Can those in poverty know Jesus, YES! Can those in poverty be followers, true followers of Christ, YES! Can those in poverty lead others to Jesus, YES!

If you feel compelled to work with those in poverty, do it, but please don't equate receiving economic or developmental aid with receiving salvation, and yes it really happens. We should never make listening to a sermon, going to church, sitting through a gospel presentation the condition for receiving help!

ecwrites

Have you ever seen or experienced poverty, true poverty? Has your standard of living ever shaped your view of a country, a place, or a group of people? Have you ever seen people damaged by people offering help in exchange for Jesus?

this is my son, whom I love

2011-09-19T08:31:00.000-07:00

The older I get, or rather the older my kids get, the more I understand God. Not in the sense of understanding my own perfection, although, well you know....but in the sense of the love He has for us, his children, and how pleased He can be with us.

I have 3 boys that I love immensely and every day I see more and more of me in them. Lets be honest, some of my traits I would rather NOT see in them, but those moments when they get it, when they exemplify what it means to be a Chupacabrita (little Chupacabra), the times when they live by those positive fundamental character traits that have made me the man I am today, in those moments I am filled with so much pride I just wanna pop.

Jamison is a rough and tumble kid. He likes to bang around, but like his old man he also wants to be pampered a bit when he is not feeling well. While I like that about him, I must say when I see his creativity and his gentleness it gets me. He is always coming up with random stories and pictures that scream out there is a creator inside, and I've never seen a kid that better lives out:

“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” Romans 12:15

Dylan is my most analytical and ambitious of my brood. He is constantly probing and questioning what he hears, what he learns, and what he sees. Like the Bereans, he never takes things at face value, but is always striving to find the truth, not just someone's particular version of it. Now that can be frustrating at times, especially when I am the target of his cynicism, but I love that fact that he does not just believe because he is told to. It is that very same analysis that will help him become the success he is always striving to be.

Stephen, well Stephen is so much like me that it is hard. When I look at him, I see myself, I mean literally the kid looks just like me. However, its not just a similar size and facial structure that we share. My flaws, my struggles, my weaknesses I see in him. At times it is hard to interact with him and not be overly critical, you know, like I'm trying to fix myself. Anyway, last night Stephen played his first football game ever and I got to see some of the good parts of me that are growing in him. He played against men, but held his own. He is new on the team, but played with heart. We lost, but instead of bitching about the refs or blaming it on the coaches, Stephen had a determination in his eye that showed me he will do whatever it takes to help out his team.

When I see these things in my boys, the best parts of me that by the grace of God I have been able to pass on, I know, at least to some extent, the way God feels when we are living up to our potential. I mean, its His potential that we are trying to live up to so why wouldn't he be ecstatic when we live it out, right?

Now I must admit, when I think about God being proud of me the first thoughts that pop into my head are always a bit on the negative side. I begin looking back at all the times I have failed God, all the times I acted out of my own desires, regardless of the consequences, all the times I was a douche, but that is not what He wants for me. God doesn't want to sit back on his throne and berate his kids for their failures just like I don't, although sometimes I do. He wants to praise them for their successes.

Ok, ok, lets not get wrapped up in this statement either. I know we need to be disciplined in order eliminate all the crap, but God is not some cosmic killjoy trying to point out how shitty we are. He truly wants us to succeed and live abundantly!

Anyway, the more I see the good in me being lived out in my boys, knowing the joy it gives me, the more I want to please my own heavenly father in the same way.

I want to be more like Him so I truly live up to the identity I have as a follower of Christ.

"This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased."

God (Matthew 3:17)

ecwrites

What good things about you do you see in your kids? How can we pass on those good things and not just our flaws? How can we live up to our potential, to exemplify the character of Christ so we can please Him, today?

suggestion box: books

2011-09-16T07:40:00.000-07:00

I've noticed that Fridays seem to be the day where people feel free to give out opinions and advice. People tell you what you should do on the weekend, tell you what you should have done all week long, just check out the popularity of the Friday Follow #ff on Twitter.

So its Friday, and I am asking for your input, or better yet asking to know more about you, your likes and dislikes.

TheVWM and I are getting ready to head up north to go to Catalyst in Atlanta, and I want to do a little reading on the flight. So tell me what are you reading that you are really enjoy. I don't care what it is, just tell me a little about it and why its so compelling.

I will be choosing my next read from your suggestions !

To provide a little incentive, if I choose your book there will be a bag of some of the world's best coffee, Cafe Britt, being shipped to your doorstep directly from Costa Rica, via Atlanta of course. I will announce my choice next Friday, September 23, 2011, so be quick!

Lets hear it!

masculinity and the church

2011-09-14T09:39:00.000-07:00

As a father of 3 boys, an American football player and coach, and someone that works closely with construction workers and the trades I find myself constantly surrounded by guys. Its a comfortable world for me.

As a big, crass talking, tattooed, bearded, beer swigging guy, being around other dudes who are like me works. Its a world of competition: punching contests, one-up contests, I can hold out longer with the alligator clips from jumper cables cutting into the flesh on my knuckles contests.

We are constantly testing each other to see who can handle more pain, can lift more weight, can handle more insults.

We are men, real men! The embodiment of masculinity, right?

Masculinity is something passed on from man to man, specifically from father to son. Anthropologically, it is our attempt to pass on the skills to fight off an attacking horde, to hunt a savage beast and put protein on the table, and to woo a mate by our feats of strength and endurance, but masculinity is under attack!

We want to change it, redefine it, even eliminate it because we ONLY define masculinity in these rough and tumble terms. Masculinity is fighting and rage. Masculinity causes interpersonal conflict and strife. Masculinity tears apart the family and thrives on pain. Masculinity is threatening because...

We are living through a crisis of fatherlessness.

About 1/3 of our children are living without their fathers, but who cares, right? We can raise kids without fathers!

Whatever kids need development-wise they can get from uncles, from neighbors, from teachers, even from friends. Even though masculinity, or lets just define it as what it is, what it means to be a man, can be passed on from ANY person with a penis. A father is not only not necessary, they may even be contributing to societal problems with their violent ways, right? These masculine traits just end up getting our kids into trouble.

Masculinity = trouble = jail!

Never mind that statistics show that 85% of kids with behavioral problems come from fatherless homes, and an equal 85% of people in jail also come from fatherless homes. Its masculinity that's the problem!

Now I want to scream out,

HELL NO,

masculinity is NOT the problem!, but I just can't get myself to say it. Why? Because it kinda is the problem, well, not real masculinity.

Fatherless boys grow up seeing only one side of masculinity, the rough side. They see the fighting, the swearing, the picking on the weak, but they don't learn about being a real man. They learn hyper-masculinity.

As much as male influences are a great thing, even necessary for the fatherless: friends, family members, youth leaders, even Big Brothers only give the child a small glimpse at masculinity. These boys often can't, or don't see that even though a man lives smack dab in the middle of a testosterone fueled culture, a culture that at times requires a bit of conflict and even the occasional fight, there are times that a real man, even within this culture, needs to modify his "violent" behavior.

A real man takes time to comfort those suffering around him, to lend a shoulder to cry on, and to be vulnerable with those around him, but he doesn't lose his man-ness. There is a moment for everything in life: living and dying, laughing and crying, even fighting and running away, but our fatherless all too often don't see it.

So why am I talking about this here, and now?

Masculinity in the church has become a frequent topic during my discipleships, during my conversations with my boys, even during our conversations here about short term missions. Its on the mind of everyone around me and I think I know why...

While the world is in the midst of a crisis of fatherlessness, so is the church!

Our men are being forced onto the pew, because there is no one like them there, or at least that is the perception. They are being asked to check all their roughness at the door and told by their wives, their girlfriends, their mothers, “If only you were more like [pick your meek mild soft spoken man in the church], things would be so much better.”

While the world learns hyper-masculinity without a dad, the church learns hyper-pussyness. There are no spiritual fathers to help show us when to fight, how to fight, even how to grab a whip and clear out the temple. We leave our men on their own to define masculinity in the church because we don't want to be a father, a spiritual father, to someone else. I mean, seriously, I don't have the time, or I don't know enough, or maybe I just don't want to do it.

No, I am not saying lets start a fight club in the youth room on Saturday nights, although I'm not opposed, I am just saying lets step up as men and teach others what it means to be a man in the church. That does not mean organizing some retreat where we wander through the wilderness, stake up tents, and live off the fat of the land like the Marlboro Man! It means teaching a man what to fight for!

Someone told me that masculinity is about respect, and in the church its no different. People want authenticity, they want to know they are not alone in the world. We, as men in the church, need to earn the respect of the men around us, to fight for it, if we want to have influence in their lives, but respect is hard to come by if we are living like Mr Rogers at church and like Rambo on the job site.

ecwrites

I would like to say thank you to my dad. He was the one who taught me that there are times when a man needs to fight for his own, while at the same time showing me how to care for others. He was the one that taught me the value of hard work, and the futility of complaining. He was that one that taught me that a real man stands his ground.

Thanks dad!

How are you living out, or how have you seen men living out, true masculinity within the church? Have you ever felt like you couldn't be a “man” in a church setting? Are you, or are you willing, to be a spiritual father to someone?

short term missions: why?

2011-09-09T09:15:00.000-07:00

For the past few weeks we have been looking at short term missions; not through the lens of a program, anthropology, or even results based evaluations, but rather through scripture. Specifically, we have been using the Matthew's account of the sending out of the 12 as our “model”, but now we are going to be borrowing a little from the other versions to wrap this up.

We have examined who should be involved, what they should be doing, when they are ready, even where they should go. We are now left with the question...

short term missions: why?

I am going to throw in a little disclaimer here: I am at best an amateur theologian. I like to drop that any time I am giving people El Chupacabraisms as a warning to check out what I'm saying. If you think what I'm saying is off, feel free to chastise, rebuke, or correct.

So anyway back to these guys, these 12. Remember Jesus sent them out and told them to take nothing, He warned them it was not going to be easy, He gave them a lists of all the terrible things that could/would happen to them and sent them on their way under His authority.

Jesus is basically saying, go out and see if this is for you, and well, it worked!

When they get back they are PUMPED!

In Mark we learn the first thing they do is break it down for Jesus, “The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught.” (Mark 6:30). So how do I know they are pumped? They are talking about it.

Guys talk about victory, not failure. To the be-peniled amongst us, even semi-failures sometimes become victories (see fishing stories), but only in order to enhance the excitement of a positive experience. If there is truly failure, there is silence. So while it scripture doesn't exactly say that these guys are fired up about their trip, I like to think they were.

Not only did this short term mission trip help amp them up for ministry, but it helped teach them to trust in Jesus.

Immediately after the disciples get done telling Jesus what happened on their adventure, Jesus busts out with the feeding of the 5,000, with 5 loves of bread and 2 fish! Again, showing the disciples that He will provide for them, and Peter is learning.

After leaving the 5,000, Jesus sends the disciples on their way, by themselves, in a boat. Sometime later, while the disciples are bobbing in the middle of the lake, Jesus shows up walking on the water, and what does Peter do? He says if YOU tell me to, I can walk on water.

Why did Peter ask? What told him he could do it?

Jesus told him to go and he would be provided for, and he was. Jesus told him to feed 5,000 with only 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish, and he did.

Jesus is showing disciples they can trust Him! If Peter did not go out on that short term mission as a disciple, when he was ready, with nothing but faith, he would not only not have been able to walk on the water, he would not even know to ask!

Why is this trust so important?

Jesus' teaching are about to get really hard. In John 6 we see this teaching pissing off some of Jesus' other disciples, yes he had more than 12, and many of them bail, “On hearing it, many of his disciples said, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” (John 6:60). But not the 12!

Jesus asks them flat out if they are going to bail too, and its the very same Peter that trusted Jesus enough to walk on the water, who answers:

“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.”

Peter (John 6:68-69)

So why short term missions?

Because when short term missions are done according to His plan:

disciples being sent,
sent out with nothing but faith,
sent when its truly about someone other than themselves,
sent to all people in need not only the most “sexy” of the least of these

those being sent are learning to trust in Jesus!

What can be done with people that truly trust in Jesus?

Well, with 12 Jesus built the Church!

ecwrites

What do you need to do to be apart of His plan in His way? How can you live out a missional existence where you are right now? What could you, your church, your community, do to change YOUR world if His plan was being followed?

the rest of the series:
short term missions: who?

short term missions: what?
short term missions: when?
short term mission s: where?

thanks!

2011-09-02T09:59:00.000-07:00

I would just like to take a moment to say thanks to everyone for the overwhelming show of support these past couple days.

Thanks to JamieTheVWM for the kind words. I know I don't say it enough, but I love you and am very proud of you!

Thanks to all of you that have been following the chaos for a while for sticking around. I have enjoyed our conversations more than you'll ever know.

Thanks to those noobs dropping by for the first time. My goal is to spark conversation to initiate change in you, the church, and the world. If I say something to piss you off don't just run away, speak up!

Finally, thanks to all that sent good vibes via twitter, facebook, and comments here! I'm a very proud man and often won't admit it when things are bumming me out, but your words do mean a lot to me.

ecwrites

If you are new, I will be wrapping up a series on short term missions next week. Look for short term missions: why? soon. If you need to catch up, start off with short term missions: who?!

short term missions: where?

2011-08-23T10:21:00.000-07:00

She was climbing the stairway when we passed. Her movements methodical, slow and somewhat forced as if moving by sheer will. Mountain climber, she moved with the focus of one trying to summit Everest after weeks battling the elements. Her body showed age, but her face, for some reason I remember her looking young. Its hard to say for the distance, but she seemed to be in her 30's.

I'm not sure why I was so fixated, but I could not keep my eyes off her. I watched her take several labored steps, each one more difficult than the last until at last, she collapsed. Midway to the peak.

A hospital, those stairs, that place where she crumpled helpless and alone was a hospital.

We should have stopped.
We should have helped.
We would have...

if I had said anything.

I was maybe 10 and driving with my dad. I can't remember where we were going, or where we had been. I have a vague recollection that we were doing something for me, maybe something special, I just can't remember. I do, however, remember the conversation going on in my head.

He's a cop. If you tell him he's going to stop. He'll have to stop. Shut up! She's at a hospital, someone else will help her.

I did tell him...
later.

If you have ever been on a short term missions trip you have your reasons. Many of us use the experience to help explore a call we feel to serve full-time, some of us are so moved by a life-changing experience with Christ we have to something, others are seeking answers/direction/peace in our lives and a change of scenery might just help out, and unfortunately some of us might just be looking to see some exotic far off location that we couldn't afford to visit if we were fronting the trip on our own dime.

Asking ourselves why is vital if we truly want to grow as followers of Christ, but maybe the deeper and more important question to answer is...

Where?

Back when we started this series, we read Matthew chapter 10 as a starting point. Why? Because Jesus is sending out his first set of short term missionaries.

Now as we think about this passage, lets try to understand what is happening. Jesus is sending these guys with no where to go and no where to stay. He tells them to find a house where someone is willing to help and stay for a while. They eat, they drink, they share with families, but also with the community. (Take another look at Matthew chapter 10 to see what they were sent to do!) They travel from place to place, from house to house. Step by step they are going out farther and farther.

Obviously, they are walking and no I am not advocating for us to go out on foot for missions, I just want to point out one small thing here:

If they are heading out, step by step..

they will never

walk over the needy to get to the needy.

More importantly, they will never have to see the pain and disappointment in their dad's eyes as they tell him they saw her fall and did nothing to help.

ecwrites

Are you serving or are you letting others do it? Do you ever serve Him in your own community? Are you walking over the needy to serve the needy?

the rest of the series:
short term missions: who?

short term missions: what?
short term missions: when?
short term missions: why?