War had severely limited how we spent our time, who and where we visited, and how we made decisions in general. In the last two days, we had seen more of Lebanon than I had ever seen as a child.

The country is rich in its history and beautiful. I started my morning eating breakfast facing the Mediterranean Sea, and by mid-morning, we were driving through picturesque snow covered hills. From the ancient Roman ruins we visited to the old villages we drove through, this is a country that had lost much of its reputation because of war and politics.

War and politics continue to dominate the psyche of people. It’s a complicated mess of a country and trying to get the political landscape straight is not an easy task. Yet apart from politics, the people are incredible hosts who value hospitality more than anything else.

In about half a day, I visited all the major landmarks from my childhood–where I lived, where I went to school, where my father worked, and where we socialized. I felt nostalgia at each of those locations and felt at home in each of those contexts. My major takeaway, though, is how small everything looks. Yet those were my world. And in this trip, my world didn’t just feel small, but it also got expanded, by touring villages and sights that are beautiful.

The other takeaway is the power of hospitality. I have a high value for hospitality. I think it’s one of those non-negotiable Biblical values. So I teach and model hospitality in my ministry. But no matter how much of it I model and live out, it pales in comparison to the hospitality that is embedded in the culture here. To be blunt and potentially offend my American friends, the hospitality here is like Level 301. It’s just natural and not intentional for people to extend hospitality. (I recently defined hospitality as serving and prioritizing others. I like that definition)

In my ministry, I aim for something like hospitality 201–trying to model the Biblical call of welcoming people into my life. And part of the 201 stuff is trying to inspire people who come from no value for hospitality, and having them not just do the 101 stuff (i.e. learning to be kind), but to do the 201 stuff of being radical.

What we see here is 301–it puts the radical hospitality to shame. And now I have that much of a stronger picture of the kind of hospitality Jesus challenged in his ministry (i.e. in his parable and teachings in Luke 14).

People who are not necessarily committed followers of Jesus have expressed the Kingdom in ways they don’t even know! They have served and prioritized well.

But for reasons we learn later, the disciples were unable to help this man. I can imagine his disappointment and further anxieties because of this incident with the disciples. And I don’t know whether the man had lost faith because the disciples failed to heal his son, but he certainly had little faith that his son could experience any freedom from his ailments.

The father was desperate for more. Desperation in of itself is not a popular posture. To be desperate for anything reveals weakness, a gap in assets/resources, and may often have people make rash decisions (desperate times call for desperate measures?). I don’t usually think of desperation as a good thing. If I come to a place of desperation, I think of myself of having failed at a particular task or challenge.

But in the case of a relationship with God, desperation can actually lead us to a more fulfilling experience of God. If desperation does reveal weaknesses and gaps, then it is appropriate to go to God as desperate people. My desperation may be my honest outlook on my soul–I have tried everything and I don’t have it in me to move on anymore. Lord, do something! And though prayers of desperation may be the last resort, I don’t think that’s a bad thing in of itself. I often hear teachings convicting us to choose to go to God as a last instead of a first resort, but I don’t think God is keeping track of when in our process we go to him, as long as we go to him.

God desires us to be desperate, and often we need a few rounds of trying something before we come to terms with our own desperation. The father’s prayer was simple, “I believe, help my unbelief.” He recognized his need for God and his soul’s struggles with believing that after all that he had done, Jesus could be better.

There are far too many Christians who are eager for simple answers and spiritualized reflections on life. I wish more of us were desperate people who understand our infallibility and who turn to Jesus to make things right.

Performing weddings are not a part of my job description nor a part of my ministry. Campus ministry allows me to walk with people in their faith and their convictions, which inevitably includes their posture toward romance. But to marry a couple is rarely a gift or privilege I’m given.

What is sweet about marrying a couple I know and for whom I care deeply is that the whole process is merely a continuation of our discipleship. Essentially all relationships come under the Lordship of Jesus, including marriage. I tell couples I counsel that if they want a solid marriage, they can begin now by learning to submit to others and serve one another. Servanthood and submission are essential to discipleship and Christian community.

Because of that, I think that Christian community is the best practice to being married. If we can honor others in our community, reconcile conflict with them, serve them, prioritize them, and love them the way God would intend for us, we will have built up our character in such a way to enjoy success in our marriage.

The process of performing both weddings challenged me to have integrity in my own marriage–to make sure that the words I preach and the invitation I present to married living are true for me as well. What performing these weddings also did for me is that they gave me another picture of leadership. The pastor may be marrying a couple, but what he or she is also doing is shepherding an entire community to experience God and glorify God as we celebrate this young couple.

Ministering from upfront is a privilege not only because of the role I play for this couple, but also because I am giving a vision of marriage for everyone present–and I realize that my words can be inspiring for some, convicting for some and perhaps even offensive to others.

I also realize that weddings are beautiful not just aesthetically or emotionally, but also because it’s one of the few places in our lives where there is reverence for the sacred. It is a deeply celebratory experience for all who are involved.

My father and I grabbed dinner in downtown Beirut, across the street from Starbucks. Neither downtown Beirut nor Starbucks existed 25 years ago. Where we walked and dined was the area of the green zone that seperated West Beirut from East Beirut–the place where warring factions faced off from each other during the civil war.

Dinner of hummus and kebab was delicious. It’s not as if I can’t get such amazing food in the United States, but there’s something about enjoying the food in the country that makes everything taste that much better.

During my first full day, I visited the various places that were core parts of my childhood–the flat (apartment) where I lived and grew up, the district we called home, the school I attended, and my father’s factory.

Some initial impressions of Lebanon and the Lebanese:

• When parking our car in the parking garage, security scanned the vehicle for any explosives (particularly the ones that can be detonated remotely)
• Parts of Beirut rival the extravagance you can find on Rodeo drive
• As is true in the non-American world, lines/queues don’t exist–whether it’s for paying, waiting or driving.
• Relationships are the greatest asset and commodity. You value nurturing relationships. My father and I visited two of his friends already. Very much like the kingdom of God

Expecting nothing less, my first night in Beirut also includes some jet lag–the unfortunate cost and tax of overseas travel.

Even the ones closest to Jesus don’t seem to understand him. The disciples are confused about what he’s doing and his teaching. Though they saw him feed 5000 people, they seem confused that Jesus can do anything for the large crowd (4000) who are gathered around him. Peter who confesses the Jesus is indeed the Messiah or Christ, is confused what that means and he has the audacity to rebuke Jesus (publicly no less) because Jesus was talking about suffering and death.

It does not seem to matter whether people are close or far from Jesus because all can misunderstand his purpose and his teachings. And relationally, it may not matter how much time one spends with Jesus because time logged does not necessarily equal to blessings received.

What we can bank on is that Jesus will constantly surprise. Those who know Jesus are eager for the adventure of being surprised by him. For those who want something of the expected Jesus will find themselves farther and farther from him. It’s disappointing because Jesus takes us on an adventure and journey. If we like the Jesus we first met, we may find ourselves in relationship with that image of Jesus and not Jesus himself.

It’s like every other relationship for that matter. I would hate for people to only know of me what they knew 10 years ago. There may be enough of me today that relating to the 25 year old Eddy may allow people to get by, but so much has changed (for the better I hope) that people will miss out if they treat me as if I were still in my mid-20s.

Our relationship with Jesus ought to be dynamic and we should not be too concerned if we don’t understand Jesus, as long as we are on the trajectory of knowing him and trusting him wherever he leads us.

I remember playing board games in bomb shelters or marbles at school. I remember the day my younger brother was born and the sound of gunshots that was part of the soundtrack of the city (not unlike the role car alarms play in Los Angeles). I remember some friendships and my dad’s workplace. But most of what I remember is the role that war played in my life and in the life of my family.

The Beirut I remember

War is evil and influences how we live our lives. But for those who have spent any significant time living in a war zone that last more than just a few weeks, will tell you that life still goes on. People adapt and learn to make do even in the midst of war. Some of that may have to do with the hope that one day, things will change. Some of that may have to do that we learn to accept the reality of the conflict and choose to still make life work. And I think some of that has to do with the love for the country and culture. The risk to stay outweighing the desire to leave.

I will be going back with my father for short 10 day visit. The country that I find will not be the country I left. I’ve changed and so has the country. English is now my most dominant language and culturally, I accept that I’m more American than Lebanese. What I imagine and hope for this pilgrimage is to fall in love with a place that has invested in my foundations. I hope to to see things and remember and appreciate who I’ve become because of these foundations. I also hope to have fun and embrace 10 days of good relationships, good food and good sights.

In fact, I generally never understand how people can know so little about their finances and that they are surprised when their credit cards are maxed or their ATM cards don’t spew out cash. How can people not really know how much money they have?

But that’s exactly what happened to us. After a little investigation, I realized that the email was legit. Our balance was surprisingly and unexpectedly low. Some of the transfers and deposits that I usually make around this time of the month I hadn’t done yet, and some of the expenses that I should have recorded in my financial software, I hadn’t done so yet.

My money and my finances surprised me. As I reflected on this recent incident, one of the things that stood out to me was that I had gotten off-rhythm in paying attention to our finances. With many (if not all) of my bills on auto-payment, I actually don’t have too many reasons to be looking at my checking account or making sure I pay bills. What that has done is allow me to be lax in having regular times of paying bills and reconciling accounts. And what that laziness has done is caught me off guard with the dreaded notice from my bank.

When finances surprise us, we embrace unnecessary anxiety, it can cost us more in the long run (for example if my checking account goes below $0, my credit card kicks in with criminal interest rates), and it will (and should) alter how we intended to use our money. For us, when the balance hit so low, I was intending to purchase groceries that day for dinner that evening. But instead I decided to see what we had around and cook that for dinner. A minor inconvenience.

Practically, a regular time of reconciling our finances (maybe weekly) is a great way to not let money surprise us. This discipline can help us vision and plan our money well.

These two vignettes come on the heals of a story where Jesus chastises the religious leaders for the ways that they are leading the people to sin. Jesus has few kind words for these religious leaders–and I don’t think it’s because he dislikes them, but because he loves them so much that it pains him for how far they are from understanding God’s love.

In these passages, it’s those who are the weakest in society or in the margins of their society who get Jesus. The woman is desperate for Jesus to do something and Jesus chooses to heal a deaf man who has been brought to him. I don’t deny that even today, we may think of Jesus loving the least, but I wonder if it’s portrayed as an act of extra-curricular charity rather than it being at the center of his mission.

Jesus’s power is expressed in his ministry to the least. At times, I wonder if the religious rules and elite make it more difficult to actually get the ministry of Jesus, and perhaps more of our theology can be formed by observing and being on the margins of society and seeing how faith is expressed in those settings.

It goes something like this, “I know you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but I love you. I don’t want you to go to hell because I love you.” And with that, the witness invites himself to share more to try to convince the hearer of the truths of God. I heard this line again recently and I’ve pondering what love has to do with witness if anything. Is love the primary motivator for witness? Can you love everyone, including strangers? And if I don’t love strangers in that way, does that mean I don’t have the heart of God?

Love is a powerful theme and emotion in scripture. Jesus summed up all the commandments into the phrase, “Love God and love neighbor.” Love is an incredibly important motivator that ought to influence and set the convictions for our faith. So I am convinced that those who follow Jesus should be people marked by a love for God and a love for neighbor. And when Jesus was challenged on defining what a neighbor is, he told the story known to us by the title of “the Good Samaritan.” It’s a powerful story of a man thought to be an enemy who goes beyond expectations to care for another.

What I take away from that teaching is a wider definition of neighbor to include people that we don’t necessarily see fitting in our community. In other words, I don’t see the Good Samaritan story as a call to love strangers, but more to expand our definition of neighbors and community–which is a central theme for the gospel writer Luke who writes this story.

Jesus certainly loved “strangers.” His ministry at Bethsaida with the feeding of the 5000 begins with his observation that the people were like sheep without a shepherd. And he was time and again convicted at the gut-level, extending compassion for the least. Jesus was certainly motivated by some sort of need and compassion for others, including strangers. But what stands out to me in Jesus’ ministry is not his motivation of love to tell people that they are going to hell, but a motivation for love to include people in the community and kingdom of God. Loving others is based on a desire for relationship not just truth-telling. And this is where I think the motivation to bring conviction to strangers and lead them to faith breaks down. If our primary motivation was to build community, love as a motivation has more integrity to both the communicator and the hearer.

The Apostle Paul certainly had his fair share of ‘contact’ evangelism in his ministry. But we never read that his motivation was because he loved others, but more because he saw himself as an apostle who declares the gospel. He interrupted people’s lives with his message primarily because he saw himself as one sent by God. And this I think is a more primary motivator for mission that through time increases our love for others. God sends us to people, communities, neighborhoods, cities, countries, etc… We minister because we are sent. We share the gospel because we see ourselves as ambassadors from God who is expanding his kingdom. When we see ourselves as God-sent people, our heart begins to expand more and more to the people that God sends us to.

My motivation for evangelism and witness (whether relational or contact) is not because I don’t want to see people end up in hell–though I do believe in the reality of eternal damnation for those who don’t place their trust in and allegiance in Jesus. My motivation is because I love God and God’s Kingdom and I want more and more people to experience God in their lives. So back to that quote from the video, I think it should have gone something like this, “I know you don’t know me, but I’m here praying for people and asking people whether they want to experience more of God in their lives.”

Having written all of this, I am careful to not extend judgment on how people do evangelism.I am struck by the humility and words of Paul in Philippians who writes of various methods of how the gospel is shared and finds that debate to be moot as long as Christ is proclaimed, and in that he rejoices (Philippians 1.18).

In this scene, what stands out is that though the disciples participate in the miracle, they find themselves farther relationally from the chief shepherd than closer. And finally, seeing how the crowd of people respond to Jesus, they are looking for help and healing but it’s not evident they are wanting a relationship.

Loneliness is a corrupting feeling. Loneliness leads people to hurt themselves and hurt others. Loneliness shapes how we think about others and how to engage others. Yet despite how lonely he must have been, Jesus endured through that. He didn’t turn to sin, to criticism or to abandonment. He remained engaged in the mission. Jesus knew his Father and knew his mission. I wonder if those are the two key elements that help us endure loneliness or hard times in general.

Jesus may have been lonely, but he knew the Father, intimately. He loved the Father and he knew that the Father loved him. How people treated him did not matter because he knew how good the Father is. Second, he knew his mission. And he would be faithful to that mission regardless of the response and how people treated him in the process. Loneliness does not trump mission for him.

The world can be a lonely place. Ministry can be a lonely place. Like Jesus, going deep with the father, and having a clear sense of call and mission helps and navigate the loneliness that may creep around us.