Still Learning

Jesus Daily

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Wed, 11 Jan 2023 13:14:00 +0000

I think I've turned this blog off, but just in case anyone finds it, my newest online writing is in the form of Jesus Daily, an every day reflection, scripture, and prayer on Substack (available there by email subscription).

New Space for Prayers

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Wed, 13 Jul 2022 13:05:00 +0000

I'm on sabbatical (summer of 2022). In case anyone is reading this, I've begun writing prayerish thoughts on a new substack. There's a way to subscribe by email at that link. Peace.

A Prayer for One Hiking the Mountains

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Mon, 02 Mar 2020 11:37:00 +0000

Photo by Jon Flobrant on Unsplash

Someone asked me to write a prayer for a loved one who is hiking the Appalachians. I wrote it a bit more generally and thought I'd share it for others.

God of the Earth -
You made mountains and hills at the very beginning: places on high.
It was on high you settled the Ark.
It was on high that you gave your Law.
It was on high that Solomon built your Temple.
It was on high that you whispered to Elijah.
It was on high that Jesus revealed your Kingdom.
It was on high that you spoke over him:
“This is my beloved, in whom I am well-pleased.”
It was on high that he was lifted up and crucified.
And Jesus’ feet last touched the earth up on a mount on high.

I pray today for my loved one as s/he journeys the places on high. May this time be one where you are close in the things of spirit & voice, protection & purpose. Give him/her swiftness of foot, but clarity of mind, heart, & body. May his/her spirit be emboldened, strengthened, and stretched both now and in the days to come because of this journey.
I trust you by your Spirit and in Christ. Amen.

A Prayer for the Social Worker, Counselor, Therapist, Recovery Coach, etc.

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Wed, 20 Nov 2019 14:52:00 +0000

A parishioner who is a counselor asked if I'd write a prayer for her to pray between sessions with clients. I though I'd share more widely:

God of Compassion,
You’ve heard what I’ve heard.
You know the pain,
the unmentionable,
the grotesque,
the shame.
I’m feeling the heaviness of another’s life,
even as Christ took the burdens of the world on the cross.
In short time, you gave him life again.
I humbly ask for the same,
that together we can bear yet another’s.
By your Spirit with me in Christ,
Amen.

Windsor Hills Camp

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Sun, 08 Apr 2018 14:07:00 +0000

In the summer of 2002, my girlfriend was traveling for Eastern Nazarene College on a summer ministry team. I had opted not to try out that year as I had some other responsibilities. One day I drove the eight hours down to her hometown in Maryland to ask her parents if I could marry her. They said yes. So I drove back up to my home in southern New Hampshire, got a good night's sleep, and then the next morning drove an hour or so up to Windsor Hills Camp just outside of HIllsboro, NH where Meghan's team was stationed for a week to help lead teen camp.

Meghan was surprised to see me and was able to get a couple of hours off. So we drove a bit away from the campground to a nearby state park where I proposed to her. We had talked about getting married, but she was surprised nonetheless and after I asked a second time (being so surprised that she didn't say anything), she said yes.

I don't think that I mindfully considered it at the time, but it was quite appropriate for me to propose to Meghan there by Windsor Hills. So much of my life had been shaped on that campground. Meghan and I had fallen in love traveling to camps and churches when we were on the same summer ministry team the year before. And once we came back to New England after seminary, our church took an annual retreat to the camp for ten years.

Our last retreat was just in February and it looks like it will be our last at Windsor Hills as the campground is now going up for sale.

It's an awesome campground, but it takes quite a bit to keep running. Some very good friends have run the camp over the years and each one of them sacrificed mightily to make things go. I prayed often for those people. Our church did not much, but at least a little bit to support them over the years. I'm so thankful for people like Ron Boyd, Brian Kelley, Rick & Sandy Smith, Dan & Nancy Whitney, and Joe & Tammy Baldinger.

I've written on sacred space a bit before, but I'm reflecting again. There are many places that have provided the vehicular means for the sacred in my life. Some have gone and others remain. It's untrue to say that the space doesn't matter and only that which happens there does. The Christian faith believes in the sacramental and that is to say that God acts within the physical. Locations, buildings, and geography all count.

But it's also untrue to say that something can't continue to happen because of the death or loss of a certain space or location. We can lament its loss, but we need not despair in its going.

Windsor Hills has been such a huge part of my life. Since the New England District Church of the Nazarene bought the came in the 80s, there have been but two years when I didn't make it up there, and that was when I was in seminary in Kansas City. Other than that, I've been a tadpole camper, boys & girls camper, Jr. High camper, Sr. High camper, music camper (a very select few of us!), Mountain Climber, CIT (counselor-in-training), counselor, volunteer, and my church has had TEN annual retreats during the winter in the Inn. I have pictures of me helping to raise the walls of the Inn. Some people remember the yellow tent in which we had chapel, but even before that, I remember worshiping in the outdoor amphitheater that was where the lower fire ring now sits. I will miss Windsor Hills like I miss a dead family member. But I totally support the decision. I once heard a preacher purport that Jesus would never have owned a family photo album. I don't know if that's true, but over the years the notion has challenged some of my sentimentalism. The Kingdom exists within the material, but it doesn't exist materially. So I'll look forward to new vessels that more efficiently carry the mission for tomorrow.

Facebook and the Influence of Fake News

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Tue, 10 Oct 2017 14:30:00 +0000

I've always been fascinated by Mark Zuckerberg, probably mainly due to my proximity to his area of upbringing and the birthplace of Facebook, but certainly also due to his age and persona.

This article doesn't really add too much that's new to the whole conversation concerning what Facebook is and does, but it is an interesting read in considering just what is the power of Facebook. (For one: the article points out that there is now only one people sub-group larger than "Facebook users" - Christians.)

Just this past Sunday (before reading this article), I told my congregation that I was about to get all legalistic on them. And then I told them to stop using Facebook. I was somewhat joking, but they also know that I wasn't completely.

So after reading the article let me say something about myself. There is something growing inside of me that makes me very uncomfortable.

I don't care as much.

I just don't.

It's not that I don't want to care anymore. I just find myself caring less and less about what is going on in the greater world. There are a couple of reasons that I've explored within myself about this happening.

At first, I was concerned about my own spirituality, as I've tried to be a proponent of compassion and solidarity with those suffering. I've tried to use my mouthpiece - be it this blog or Twitter or Facebook or whatever - to speak for those who aren't being spoken for. I mean, Jesus doesn't want people to suffer and die, so I shouldn't either, right? But I find little desire in myself to speak out anymore. What can I say after Las Vegas? What can I say after another black man is shot in the back as he runs? People tell me that what I say matters and I believe it does. But unfortunately, the forum in which we choose to do so today provides little to no actual positive change whatsoever.

Second, I began to think that the an abundance of tragedies has caused me to become calloused. I see many people wondering about this same thing. But as I've thought about it, I don't really think that tragedy is any more present in the world than usual today. It's just that the way we receive these events and deal with it has. Which I acknowledge could mean that I'm calloused indeed. But it's not because of the amount of tragedy.

So I'm searching for why my feelings have changed. I believe that I do care. I care that people are dying and are suffering from a variety of unjust things: violence, racism, poverty, and more. I just don't see that my interaction and yelling at people about the injustice of it all will really do anything.

And so I'm searching the heart of my center which I purport to be that guy from 1st century Nazareth. It seems so right to think that he would be a loud voice in the conversations of today. But as I read the gospels, it doesn't seem to be his approach. Why wasn't he in Rome protesting the injustice and brutality of the crucifixion system? (...a violence that I don't think we really know or understand today.)

For one, he seemed to focus the angst of his message (when it showed up at all) not toward greater society, but toward those who regarded themselves to be the people of God.

You may accuse me of sticking my head in the sand, and you may be right. But I am leaning more and more to the conclusion that what we need isn't a "solution" to these world problems. That is - if I'm reading the cruciform example of Jesus Christ right - it's not really about what the world needs at all. It's about following the leading of a guy who wasn't too interested in solving big problems than he was about meeting the problems of people around him one at a time.
Even so, the atrocities of genocide and ethnic cleansing still ring loudly, whether it's 1930-40s Europe or 1990s Rwanda or (and do we even have the knowledge to say this?)...2017 Myanmar. I don't know. Feel free to help me out with this. But please...don't use the words "slippery slope" with me. I find no evidence of such speaking in Christ's ministry and it's frustratingly annoying that so many Christians continue to do so.

I don't really have a conclusion or question with this post. I guess I'm just passing the article along and asking everyone to continue to consider what Facebook is doing, more so on a smaller scale at the level of our individuals selves and our families, churches, and local communities. And I'm not really believing in any great conspiracy, as though someone(s) at Facebook have a grand plan. That's actually one of the things that I think the article points out: the phenomenon of Facebook is one that perhaps no one is controlling. Maybe it's simply happening and evolving before us. I'm not sure if that's comforting or not. It may be true that I believe that if the wrong group of people got a hold of Facebook, they could do a whole lot of damage (if they haven't already).

Again, this is not really a new consideration, although I'm trying to consider what it does to me more than others at the moment. It's easy to point and blame how fake news is spoiling everyone else around us than it is to consider how slightly fake news might be affecting my own self.

The fact is not lost on me that in my desire to share this article, I know that the best way to do so is on Facebook...I mean, I don't even have y'all's email addresses. But please, if you feel the need to respond to what I'm saying, read the article. It's pretty important to the context of what I've said here.

The Cross & Culpability

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Tue, 15 Aug 2017 18:18:00 +0000

I've been led to think about culpability, theologically-speaking, quite a bit in the past several months. As a participant in the Social Action committee at the General Assembly of the Church of the Nazarene, it was frustrating to me how many times people stood to speak against the idea of us making a corporate statement as a denomination about a given issue in case it looked like we were then accepting culpability for something we didn't do.

At first, as a human, I understand this tendency to safe-guard reputation. As a parent, I want to warn my kids where and with whom they are seen. While I can state that physical safety is the main goal, if I'm honest, it's also because I care about their reputation. Reputation matters in this world. A good one will make things a lot easier in the long run.

But when I think theologically, and more specifically, christologically, and even more specifically, soteriologically, I am caused to remember that I have chosen to let Christ and the cross serve as the primary determinative for my perspective and action. The cross isn't simply personally salvific; it is corporately prescriptive. What the community of Christ says and does together will be shaped by the cross of Christ.

So if Christ were to have said, "I didn't do it, so I will not participate in its redemption," then damn us all.

But he didn't. Culpability is exactly what Christ took upon himself on the cross, and in doing so, he accepted it and then made way for it to be dealt with in grace and love. It wasn't the safest thing to do. And it wasn't the easiest thing to do. But it was the divine thing to do, which means it's the Christlike thing to do. Thus, it is our call.

I truly believe that in following Christ, part of our call to evangelism is to take upon ourselves the suffering of others, even if it is the result of sin for which we are not culpable, and even if it is the result of sin that those others themselves are culpable for. That is good news indeed, and not news today's society really knows much about. Everyone else is to blame and so no one is to blame.

So let's be clear: Christ's cross was never meant to save face. It was meant to save lives. Passing on the culpability of others will save face. But that wasn't Christ's game. He came to save life. And the things of violence and fear and racism are deeply embedded life problems. Let the Church be at the forefront of absorbing this pain so that it can be dealt with in grace and love.

Political Conventions and the Likelihood of a Messiah

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Fri, 29 Jul 2016 23:31:00 +0000

I understand that people can't intellectually accept the idea of God, and even more specifically, Jesus Christ. I get it. There are some days even for me when deism or atheism just makes sense within all human reason.

What I can't understand is how many of these same people put just as much faith as I try to have in Christ into modern human political saviors who are just as much of a possible projection of nothingness as seems to be the story of a man who lived and died and lived again some 2000 years ago.

The amount of fervor and hope projected at a political convention can rival any church service any where. (One could make similar observations about sports or a Hollywood movie franchise, except that most people who sit in these arenas understand that athletes and characters are entertainers, even if their fans put more time and stock into them than anything else in life.) It's even more amazing that the masses continue to do this even after an every-four-years reminder that no one ever keeps all those promises. There is encouragement in this observation for me though: people have hope. Regardless of the side of the political aisle, they have hope that a human being can actually fix their problems or at least be the catalyst to do so. Many of the tactics by which they hope that this hope comes to fruition are hopeless, but it's good to at least see that people have some kind of hope in a person.

It's clear that the desire for a messiah is a rather universal human phenomenon (I'm sure there are exceptions). I accept the human notion that I'm wasting my time following a guy who's far removed from modern reasonableness. But we have yet to see that Hillary, Barack, Ronald, or the Donald are any more salvific, and certainly not remotely close to the same blamelessness.

So for me, I choose to follow the narrative and person of the humble, loving Middle Eastern guy from Nazareth. You can call me a sucker, and it's certainly possible that we'll find that to be true someday. But don't try and tell me that any of these other saviors are any closer to reality.

Humans, Pets, & Love

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Thu, 26 Mar 2015 16:18:00 +0000

I am a dog lover. Always have been. I can count the number of years of my life that the household in which I live has been without a dog (or two) on one hand. I currently have a dog. Well...a Chihuahua, but close enough. I love his affection, companionship, and the safe space that he provides for me after a long day.

The question I want to pose is: To what extent can and do pets serve as a hindrance from practicing the love of God amongst humanity (a call I believe to be central to God's will)?

Some pertinent thoughts, both for and against such a question:

The joke is told: Why is a dog better than a spouse? Well...if you lock them both in the trunk of you car overnight, which one will be happier to see you in the morning?

Loving pets is mostly very easy. If you don't love them, you don't have to have them. If you do love them, it's pretty much pure joy. Loss can be hard, but in the long run, it's easy to pass love upon a pet.

It's not always so easy to love humans. Yet that is part of our primary call in the gospel: to love humanity.

It's notable to me that in the creation story, the companionship of animals did not provide what God perceived as the antithesis of loneliness. Only another human fulfilled the solution to the problem that "It's not good for man to be alone."

Animals are part of creation. Nurturing creation is part of God's will for humanity. I am one who believes that all of creation is being and will be redeemed, including animals. I look forward to an eternity that includes the whole animal kingdom.*

Yet...how much of who we are supposed to be is transferred upon animals, particularly in USian society? The financial numbers are astounding. As much as I love my dog, I am confounded by what is presented to me when we make a visit to the vet. Some who know me may remember the saga with my previous dog (a chocolate lab) who was the victim of a horribly botched spaying which led us to the animal ER where I had to make an excruciating decision of whether to save her or not (we did...and I still wrestle with it). I'm pretty sure that I'll not make the same kind of decision with our current dog (whose neutering went perfectly fine).

Anyway, I'm open to conversation. Pastorally and ecclesiologically, I see it as a potential problem; a hindrance to our work we're called to in the Church. I see people whose lives seem to bear witness to the idea that they don't need anything else because they have their pet. While on the surface this is cute and perhaps can even be called pragmatically productive, I wonder about it in the grand plan of the Kingdom of God.

Animals can certainly serve in wonderful ways that humans cannot. I have friends with service dogs, helping out in the areas of sight loss as well as anxiety prevention and transference. I think these are wonderful companions and a great example of how God meant for humans and the rest of creation to co-exist.

It is true that the divine love within us can be inappropriately transferred to pretty much anything. Whether it's money, possessions, or even inappropriate human relationship, this is often called idolatry. It's recently become popular to conclude that the opposite of addiction is human love rather than sobriety, a conclusion with which I tend to agree. There's nothing inherently evil about animals (yes, yes...even snakes and cats). I just wonder why we don't call ourselves to task on this with pets more often.

I like to go running at one of the local dog parks in Hingham (Bare Cove - it's awesome, you should go there). I love seeing people walking their dogs. Often, dogs are the beginning of human connection, the start to a conversation that likely wouldn't otherwise occur if not for the pet. But I also see a lot of people who seemingly escape human interaction via their pet.

What do you think?

-------
*Tangentially related, Wesley's sermon, The General Deliverance is a great read concerning the salvation of nonhuman animals.

The Bible Women's Project: A Reminder that the Church Needs Artists

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Wed, 04 Mar 2015 20:08:00 +0000

Every day my Facebook feed is littered with the shares of all sorts of lists and theories positing what the Church must do if it's going to be successful with this generation or for the future. I read some of them. Some are helpful. Others are obvious click-bait. I find assumption of necessary prescriptions or normative non-negotiables to be rather ignorant of the beautiful diverse contexts in which the Church is at work.

So it's with great caution that I say the following:
The Church needs to enable the artists among us.

We need to listen to artists. We need to give them space to critique, to practice, and to perform. Lest anyone think I'm talking about what happens in the context of worship, please...please...If the Church needs to get over anything, it's the dominance of exhaustively defining the Church by that which happens on a Sunday morning. We might consider that one reason so few are inspired by what the Church does in the context of corporate worship is because by our actions we assume that inspiration only happens therein. (Of course, anyone who knows me knows that I believe in the uttermost importance of the gathered Body, particularly around the sacramental Table.)

Art should be no extracurricular activity of the Church. It is at the heart of what God has made in the created image, deep within humanity. It comes out in many various forms, but it is essential in helping people realize and actualize the humanity that God intended. Here, I am intentionally defining art rather broadly.

I have seen many plays on the stage in the Cove Auditorium on the campus of Eastern Nazarene College. But I have never been as inspired as I was this past Saturday afternoon when I took in The Bible Women's Project. I have also never been disappointed by any of the plays or musicals that director Tara Brooke Watkins has overseen. She really did it with this project. The college campus offers a unique setting for theater: one in which the incredible life and passion of the college student smack into the creative space of the theater. Watkins seems to have a great handle on this breeding ground, especially with this project, in which the actors wrote and shaped the words and scenes they convincingly played.

Placed in a rather simple stage setting with minimal yet poignantly-woven musical accompaniment, the project featured thirteen female actors who brought us through dozens of stories of women in the Bible. Creative license was used well in setting the stories in contemporary vignettes, whether a Jerry Springer-like talk show or theater-within-theater (perhaps my favorite part). The scenes dealt heavily with closet conversations of abuse, addiction, depression, and sexuality. While much of these require somber and reflective tones, the director and cast also knew that such a play demanded humor, and it abounded throughout. As a spectator, I alternated quickly between mourning and laughing, sometimes almost in the same breath. The repeating choreographed interlude was well-placed for self-reflection and emotional adjustment between stories.

Interpretation of the Bible is often a tough undertaking. Believe me, I know. It's kind of what I do. The Bible doesn't seem to be a popular book in the arena of the theater these days. And anytime stories from scripture are attempted, I'm most often dismayed by the cliche and lack of creativity that comes out. But not the BWP. It was an approach to scripture like I haven't seen before (on the stage, at least). At some points it was difficult for me to make some of the extrapolations that they did with stories that are either virtually nonexistent in the text or otherwise bear a lack of historicity. But that was also kind of their point: the gospel demands that we pay attention to the minor characters in any story. The BWP called us to task in this way. So regardless of whether or not you or I think Eve or Rizpah bear an historicity, the narrative of their situation calls to us.

I was very proud of the cast, even though I only know one of the actors, two others tangentially, and a few others by name. By my count, there were five Nazarene pastors' kids and one grandchild (truly, I should probably say "Nazarene elders", but many won't know exactly what that means). I mention this because it's a great encouragement to me as a Nazarene pastor. Many of us (dare I say a silent majority in my context of New England?) have the same conversations that the script handled in smaller circles of the Church. And the encouragement from those involved with this play was that this generation is ~~ready~~ more than ready to handle tough words and elicit tough questions from those who may disagree with us. Too often, critical eyes only see rebelliousness in even having a conversation rather than providing a safe place in which to be honest with one another. This project bursts such conversations into the spotlight, even somehow demonstrating within the script of the play how a group can have such open dialogue. Yes, while other corners of the Kingdom settled these conversations for themselves long ago - much to the impatient dismay of many of my Nazarene brethren - I am encouraged by these ENC students, alums, and professors and their boldness.

Which brings me back to art. Somehow, art has been relegated to those things we do when we have the time to sit and enjoy something. Yes, art is often enjoyable. But art is often rather painful, shining light on those things we'd rather hide but are actually there. Art has a way of exposing and healing. Often healing requires initial pain. Art also can blaze new paths. Sometimes these paths are ones that scholars or other leaders have tried to begin. But pulpits and classrooms just don't have the power that a canvas or a stage does sometimes. The BWP didn't really open anything new for me. I'm just so glad that these artists were bold enough to give voice to so many of us who have been praying and talking in these ways for a long time.

So thank you, Bible Women's Project.

Personalities, Churches, & The Litany of Humility

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Wed, 06 Nov 2013 22:23:00 +0000

Some nine Christmases ago, I sat down on a couch my in-laws' living room with the whole family and watched a short video that my brother-in-law-youth-pastor had brought with him. In it, this really cool-looking guy was walking through the streets and the woods, talking about rain and his son and what it is to be wanted by God the Father. It was a great little video: well-produced, well-spoken, and well-pointed.

And so Rob Bell was born into my life.

(And I learned that it's okay to write a one-sentence paragraph.)

A lot has transpired since then. But (former) Pastor Rob had a long sit-down interview with Oprah last week. You know you've made it when you sit down with Oprah. So we've come "a long way" since that couch. Bell has certainly swayed me one way or another in numerous ways over these years. I've appreciated much of what he's put forth. I've left a lot of it behind, too.

Just a few months ago, someone sent me a podcast of Nadia Bolz-Weber. I appreciate her fresh take and inspirational story/style in the Church today. I could take or leave the vulgarity, but it's nice to see people pushing the envelope so we can stop thinking about the Church as only that which exists in button-up shirts and khakis. But I hope it's not just an act or a way of drawing attention. I don't know her. Would love to meet her.

Even more so: I'd love to spend a day worshiping or serving with the church she leads.

Because in between Rob Bell and Nadia Bolz-Weber are a hundred other "personalities" that have otherwise affected, inspired, or changed me in some way, even if just a little bit. Probably the most effect has come from Stanley Hauerwas, quite the personality himself. Before Pastor Nadia burst onto the scene in great part due to her keenness on verbal vulgarity, Stanley H. was cursing like the son of a brick-layer that he actually is. But form aside, their message is notably...different.

But...I'm tired of personalities.

I'm tired of individuals who after a while just seem to be notching up their hits or views. Bloggers, super-pastors, seminary theologians...all personalities whose notoriety is built on being different, finding a cutting edge, saying something "new", or at least being the first.

I'm tired of personalities.

And not just because personalities often lead to quick and easy downfalls. Media like Facebook, Twitter, or even old-school news media can tear apart a personality at the whisper of conspiracy, downfall, or fraud, like the recent spotlight on Steven Furtick and his new house. What we find is that once the marketing, the pretty pictures, and the clean-cut logos are stripped away, personalities are simply human.

I'm tired of hearing about super-personalities.

So...tell me about churches.

I want to hear about groups of people working together in the personality of Christ. Tell me the stories about individuals who are working hard for and as Christ in places no one really cares about. I want to hear about what the Church is doing together in various places in various ways. I don't care about cutting edges. Let me hear how ancient stuff like Matthew 25 is playing out or how the Greatest Commandment is exemplified through normal people who would otherwise look ridiculous standing on stage at some conference.

But tell me about these groups and people in whispers. I don't want the spotlight to screw up what they're doing for the Kingdom. I don't really believe in "special little corners of Heaven" but if I did, I would surely believe that there's one reserved for people whom no one's ever heard of. And it'll be way bigger than the corner reserved for everyone who ever has been.

Closer to home, I totally confess that I'm weary of many seeing the church that I lead as "a result" of my personality. I'm weary of it because I can't bear it. I can't bear the image in actuality of practice (because it's not true). I can't bear it emotionally. And I certainly can't bear it theologically.

"I hear you're doing great things at North Street!", some say to me sometimes. I know they're just trying to be an encouragement or start a nice conversation, but I've started to ask them right back, "Oh yeah? What have you heard?" I try to honestly respond that it really is a great group of people and much of the credit goes to willing vessels who call the church their home. But I'm sure it more often than not comes off like a deflecting "I'm-just-trying-to-be-humble" cliche, only made to add to the image.

Quite frankly, when we actually read the narratives of scripture, we rarely see a wonderful picture of crisp-clean personalities. And most of the few exceptions demonstrate what a people are doing together.

This summer as part of my sabbatical, I visited a few church communities I'd heard about from afar or had never heard of at all before the summer. And it was awesome to see how The Lord is working through people in ways for which there is no clean website, no five-step plan, and no real super-star personality other than the collective Christ that abides within these groups.

Ever heard of Church of the Servant King? You MIGHT have, but chances are you probably haven't. People I know who live in the LA area that I asked hadn't even heard of them even though they are right in LA. What a wonderful group of people I met and spent a whole day with. They might max out at 65-75 people. But don't look for their sign. Or their "church building." They own a few houses together and share life together each and every day, in weekly and yearly rhythms of life. This is no fresh and cutting edge church: they've been doing this for 35 years together. But Christianity Today has apparently never called. (By the way, I didn't plan on visiting this church - I'd never heard of them until I was on sabbatical and some people recommended that I visit them.)

Ever heard of the Community of Adsideo? If you're in the Nazarene world, you might have. But chances are you probably haven't. This little community of 70 or so people (about half of how many they were a few years ago) is also an intentional living community striving to be the Church. While anyone can enter their community space pretty much seven days a week, to join this church, one must go through at least a year of intense discipleship. They're so focused on serving other fragments of the Body of Christ that I kinda felt like I was in the way when I was there. But they welcomed me nonetheless.

Ever heard of Mid-City San Diego Church of the Nazarene? You might have. But chances are you probably haven't. It's churches within a church within the Church. There are seven language-speaking groups who share a horribly run-down, unattractive building. The carpet was gross (I actually wonder if they refuse to replace it just so it serves as a visible - and smellable - way of reminding them that there are more important things than the carpet). And in the worship gathering of the English-speaking portion of the congregation, I worshiped with maybe about 50 people (though I do think it was a "down" week in the middle of the summer). But this church is smothering the things of evil through creative means of food distribution, immigrant-service, and addiction-squashing.

Ever heard of Peace River Christian Fellowship? You might have, but I doubt it. Just a smallish group of Christians who gather on Sunday evenings together in another church's building. Kids running all over, just a normal potluck afterward, some songs and sharing from the Word. Sure, they hope to grow, but it doesn't appear to be priority #1 for them. They just want a peaceful fellowship together wherein prayer is shared, the Word is preached, and people know Christ.

As I turn into an old man, the only personality I'm truly interested in these days is the one that Christ exemplified and churches would replicate. Yes, I know: the church itself is made up of personalities and individual churches carry personae themselves. We can't escape personality and we shouldn't. After all: at some point, God chose to once-and-for-all show holiness in a person. But I'm tired of personalities who become so in and of themselves to the point that Christ can only be found lurking in the shadows. (It's often not that person's fault: sometimes it's us masses who shine the light.)

Sometimes I wonder why I blog when I actually sit down to write on this thing. Frankly, it could be rightly pointed out that me writing on a blog is just another cry for attention. Goodness: I used my name as the URL! And a middle initial! (To be fair, that crazy fashion designer had already taken jeremyscott.com.)

But today, I think I'm writing because I'm realizing just how much I want to please people. I have this life-long penchant for trying to make everyone like me. I hate conflict and I hate people thinking any ill of me at all. It's a horrible thing, actually. And it's far from the path to and through the cross. More specifically, I again discovered today a number of people who have "unfriended" me on Facebook (at least, I'm not sure how else we're no longer "friends"). You'd think I'd know by now that you can't please everyone. You'd think I'd have learned that I should get over such things. But honestly: I am indeed sensitive. So help me, God.

When I was in college, the guy who is actually now my advisor at BU spoke in one of our chapel services. It's funny to me that I've always remembered him as being the first to share the following prayer. I have returned to this prayer numerous times. I remember praying it as I wrestled with coming to North Street or taking a position at another church. I've prayed it when I'm feeling overly-good about what I've done.

It's thusly disturbing that I haven't prayed it in a while.

This prayer from Rafael Merry del Val isn't for everyone. In fact, I know a lot of people who should pray very opposite words to those below. But for me, I need this prayer:

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being extolled, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being honored, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being praised, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being preferred to others, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being consulted, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being approved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being despised, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of suffering rebukes, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being calumniated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being forgotten, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being wronged, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being suspected, Deliver me, Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be chosen and I set aside,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be praised and I unnoticed,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be preferred to me in everything,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may become holier than I,
provided that I may become as holy as I should,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

Out of the Dragon's Grave: Lessons in Faith & Forgiveness

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Wed, 25 Sep 2013 15:05:00 +0000

Just wanted to post here that I have a short article posted on the Nazarenes Exploring Evolution site. The website is in prep for a conference coming up at Point Loma Nazarene University in January. There are some great writings over there by others. I was humbled to be asked to write, and I don't mean that in a "Gee, gosh, thanks..." kind of way, but that it was literally humbling. As in: having read all the other people's articles, I felt stupider. So I was literally humbled. But the conversation around evolution and faith has been formative in my life in various ways, so I was happy to share a slice of my experience. Enjoy...

Dear Wedding Photographers

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Sat, 21 Sep 2013 14:03:00 +0000

I'm finally doing it. Posting this. I wrote this a while ago (could be last year, could have been years ago). The dude in the viral video above has forced me. He handled it extremely poorly (he could have quietly asked, or, as I try to do, spoke with the couple and photo-/videographers before the action). But I totally understand his sentiment.

When I first wrote what's below, I couldn't post it for various reasons, mostly due to the timing. I've returned to it now and then since I wrote it, but also avoided posting it as to not ruffle the feathers of any of my many talented photographer friends (is it just me or do there seem to be SO MANY out there?). But...perhaps this will be useful to some of my incredible photographer friends...or perhaps they'll just get ticked at me. I won't be surprised if there is much disagreement over this. Like most important things in life, American culture has taught the couple (particularly usually the bride) that it's all about them. It's not. And it's not about the officiant either (it's why we wear a stole...and a robe...). A wedding ceremony is about the Church's permission for two to have one another. Call me old-fashioned.

I mainly post it to get us thinking about the sacramentalness of marriage in relation to the priority of the moment over capturing it.

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I've been involved in my share of weddings: from ring bearer to groomsman to best man to groom and from witness to pianist to officiant, I've watched and participated in a dozens of weddings from a variety of perspectives. I understand the beautiful privilege it is to stand with the couple. It's beautiful.

But when it comes to the shebang that goes into weddings, I pretty much despise most of the whole industry, and as much as I hate it, we must deal with it, for that is what it is: an industry. I love the ceremony...the 25 minutes to an hour that is the sanctity of marriage that is an institution of the Body of Christ. From my perspective, in most cases, this is the focus: a ceremony of the Body of Christ. It is nothing less and is impossibly anything more.

I pound this home in the sessions that I have with prospective couples in the months prior to a wedding ceremony. The intention is that every wedding ceremony a bride and groom participates in will be the first, last, and only one for as long as they are both alive. Take those vows as seriously as Christ has taken you. Do all that you can to remember: remember those vows, remember the songs, remember the candles or sand jars or whatever other symbol we agree upon. By all means, hire a photographer. But please: hire one who can agree to the following advice from wedding officiants.

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Dear Wedding Photographers:

Congratulations on getting to be but one part of an engaged couple's incredible day! While we're but the officiants and for most of the day take a back seat to your role, we have some suggestions for you during the ceremony.

You have an abundance of time prior to and after the ceremony. By all means, take pictures during the ceremony, but in that hour, you are pretty far down the list of priorities. Just because you get paid far more than anyone else there does not mean that you're on top of the list in determining what goes on, despite what the industry and trade shows may have taught you. There are a dozen or so people ahead of you during that hour. Don't get us wrong: your job is very important. Just not so important that you are in charge during that time.

We don't wait or slow down something in the ceremony to suit your ability to take pictures. You should neither be seen nor heard. You are there to capture and thus maintain memories...not create them. This is not a press event, so you don't have the credentials to jump in front of grandma or the mother of the bride just to get your shot. If you must have a certain perspective or you miss it, then re-create it afterward. During the ceremony, "the moment" is more important than anything. Despite your incredible ability (and opportunity!) to immortalize the moment, the moment is more important than your hope of doing so. So please: don't jump in front of the situation.

I don't think there's anything above that's not doable. We've seen some great wedding photographers that have the ability to do all of the above and still come out with incredible shots and glimpses of the actual ceremony. Go for it: use multiple cameras, remotes, whatever (as long as they're mostly inconspicuous). Get an assistant or two.

But please, by all means, let the ceremony be what it is supposed to be first and foremost: the sacred and sanctified moments of the joining of two to be one before God and God's people.

Thanks,
Grace and Peace,

Wedding Officiants

It Was My Fault

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Thu, 15 Aug 2013 20:30:00 +0000

Well I think that I have traveled some 40,000 miles thus far while on sabbatical. I hope to figure out these numbers more exactly a bit later, as well as how many church buildings, communities, etc. And this has included driving our own car, a Hyandai Sonata (loved this car), a Kia something-or-other in Israel, riding planes through nine different airports, trains throughout Switzerland, boats up rivers and over lakes, shuttles, cable cars, a taxi, and a whole lot of walking. For just one example, the other day we took 9 trains, 7 cable cars, 4 buses, and 1 taxi in one day.

I've braved driving the streets of Jerusalem in the Muslim quarter during the highest holy days of Ramadan, the redwood "Avenue of Giants" in Northern California, the highways of Los Angeles (not that bad, really), and the Swiss rail system...a whole lot of travel. And I haven't even mentioned yet that much of this has been with four young children.

And we had no problems.

Until today.

And it was my fault.

As I've said, the Swiss Rail system is pretty awesome. But getting from and to the airport on it with eight people and all their luggage was not exactly easy. And today, we suffered a loss.

Swiss trains are known for their punctuality. To take advantage of it, you'd better pay attention by knowing your route, connections, the timing, etc. Well today we were on a train and weren't completely sure where to get off to connect to the Zurich Airport. I knew that there was some construction that was diverting some things around a stop. So we were closely watching the monitors looking for which stop to get off at. We saw it come up quickly, and with all of our luggage had to move swiftly to get off the train.

In the rush, I left our camera bag in the over-head compartment.

This included "Meghan's" DSLR Nikon camera, two battery chargers, all of our iPad chargers (three of them!), both cell phone chargers, and three SD memory card readers.

I realized the omission as I watched the train pull away. And there was nothing I could do. We had to catch the plane and the train wouldn't stop until it's final destination way south of Zurich (about 30 minutes before our plane was to take off).

Oh well...what're you going to do about it? It's just equipment, right? I mean, sure, some $1000 worth of equipment...but it is still just equipment.

Thankfully I had pulled the pictures onto my iPad late last night, so I have all of them (some are below).

It could have been much, much worse. We still have four children, four grandparents, all our clothes, no accidents, speeding tickets, or even scratches (though I did smash one of my girls' fingers with a bag on the bus today). Goodness...getting through Jerusalem during Ramadan might be a miracle enough!

So we are very thankful.

(I did submit a lost and found report with the Swiss Rail Office. I don't have high hopes, but I've done all I can do.

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I have been inspired. Challenged. Filled with different emotions in a variety of ways. Some things I might have expected have not surfaced, while other unexpected benefits have been a pleasant surprise.

I'm writing this in the air over the Atlantic. We will land in Toronto and then fly to Baltimore where my very gracious brother-in-law will pick us up and take us back to Salisbury. We'll spend the night and leave for the home of one of my best friends and his wife (who just "happens" to be Meghan's sister) sometime tomorrow. There we will begin the debriefing, reflecting, and have some time for the kids to play with their cousins.

Brayden, Brenna, Brooklyn, & Brysen have been wonderful, having to sit on many a train or bus, or often putting up with the adults' slow walks along a river or in a museum. Don't get me wrong, they've had their share of fun and ice cream (thanks, Harris family!). But they've been wonderful for us in all things on this trip.

We are longing for our church family and our home. We are anxious to get back to a rhythm of home-life, but also knowing that this rhythm will likely and intentionally change. I'm not sure what that will look like yet, but greatly look forward to seeing how this experience will do so.

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Here are just a few pictures from over the past several days.

I took a lot of pictures in Switzerland and Israel. Ron took about 100x more than me.

We went a lot higher, but I liked this picture best. We went up Schilthorn. So in a two-week period, I was in the lowest place on earth (the shores of the Dead Sea) and almost 10,000 feet in the Alps.

If you look closely at the outline of the furthest mountain, you can see a base-jumper. I have always marveled at the notion of wing-suiting and I got to see some in action. Awesome. (CNN.com had a main page article on a guy who died in Switzerland just yesterday doing this. Not sure it's worth it.)

One of the many mountain lakes we saw while riding in the comfort of a train.

It's been a blast being with Ron & Patty ("Ta & Grammie").

"Daddy...take my picture."

Not a great pic, but I wanted to share this:

The town I live in (Hingham, MA) is a proud, historic town. I've marveled at the age of some of the buildings in Hingham. But they pale in comparison to thousands of houses/buildings right here in Switzerland. Right in the little village of Busingen (technically Germany) where we were staying there were dozens of places older than the oldest abode in Hingham. This place (1579) was literally at the end of the driveway of where we were staying.

Brayden wanted me to share this one he took.

Our bus stop:

This church dates back to the 900s. A beautiful little sanctuary with great modern lighting, but wonderfully maintained with age as well.

I leave you for now with this one, perhaps my favorite of the summer. A fitting one in memory of our camera...lost on a train in Switzerland. RIP, dear Nikon. Enjoy your ride into the sunset.

Switzerland

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Sun, 11 Aug 2013 07:23:00 +0000

Well I've been back in Switzerland for a few days now with my family. The first day, my in-laws watched the kids for us while Meghan and I accompanied my parents to the airport to see them back to the States. Then Meghan and I saw a little bit of Zurich. I also got a badly-needed haircut, which was by far the most expensive haircut I have or will ever pay for. Always ask the price first. My hairdresser was really nice though, from Kosovo, and we laughed together at the notion of a statue of Bill Clinton in her hometown. Meghan and I found the (a?) red light district in Zurich, totally legal here. Whoops...

Switzerland is indeed a beautiful country. We are here on Swiss "saver" rail passes for the duration, passes that give us unlimited rides on the rails and buses throughout Switzerland (and a discount for a number of other things, free museums, etc.). Their system is as good as advertised. It's a thing of beauty: a railway system that most always runs on time, often, cleanly, and pretty much to everywhere. We are in rural Switzerland, can hop on the bus about 50 yards from our building, get to the station for a train, and be in a world-class city like Zurich in less than an hour.

The preponderance of bicycles here is also of great note (like it was in Portland, OR). I can't be sure, but I would guess that at least two-thirds of travelers use a bike, the public system, or some combination of both. The fact that a whole nation can get it right when it comes to public transportation and a little city like Boston can't get a few subway lines to work properly...it's mind-boggling. There seems to be no social stigma surround the notion of using public transportation here either, though culture and language may be hiding something from me.

A view from the train:

One thing that is the same as Boston though: one just doesn't talk to people on the bus or train. I don't get it. In the US or in Switzerland, the rule is always this: "Just give me my white earbuds and leave me alone."

We visited Lucerne (Luzern). It's a beautiful city, surrounded by the Alps. We went in the Catholic Church and as we were there a wedding was about to begin. It was neat to watch all the guests show up in their best clothes while a bunch of us tourists took pictures. We also got to hear the full range of bells in the towers thanks to the wedding.

We saw the Rhine Falls yesterday, the most powerful waterfall in Europe. It is indeed an awesome sight (I rode a boat with my father-in-law in rather close to them, a nice ride), but they are small compared to Niagara. The Rhine Falls are only two short bus rides from where we're staying.

We also visited the Munot, an impressive hill-top fortress in Schaffhausen.

For the first time this whole summer, I will not be worshiping with a different church this morning. Every Sunday since we left I've worshiped with a different church in very different settings, but we will be with Busingen International Church of the Nazarene for the second time today.

Our prayerful thoughts continue to be with our own North Street Community, who we miss greatly. The kids' requests for home are a bit more frequent now. Soon...

A Garden, a Church, & a Wall

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Wed, 07 Aug 2013 07:03:00 +0000

On Monday, August 5th, our last full day in Israel, we determined to do three things for sure: visit the Garden Tomb, the Jerusalem Church of the Nazarene, and the Western Wall.

After a leisurely breakfast with some good conversation (it's been so great to have both my father and father-in-law together with me, to listen to them, to talk with them, and to listen to them talk to each other: a priceless experience), we walked to the Garden Tomb which is actually the closest well-known historical site to our hotel. It was about a 5-minute walk from us.

The Garden Tomb - first discovered in the 1840s, I believe - is overseen and owned by a British organization. There were about 8-10 Brits there to welcome us and answer questions.

In short, the Garden Tomb was awesome. I really appreciated the way the location is presented. While most all of the sites and churches built over them that we've been to are rather "certain" of their historicity (that is: those overseeing them present it as certain), the Garden Tomb organization has gone a different direction to say, "You know...we really don't know, but it sure could be like this spot. The fact of the matter isn't nearly as important as the Truth that has come from the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ."

I don't know if it's the modern in me that says, "Yeah...right," to all the places that are sure of their historicity or the post-modern in me that says, "It just doesn't matter" (in relation to historicity), but I really appreciated the presentation (or lack there of) at the Garden Tomb.

The garden is serviced by a nice long walking path with many spots to sit both for individuals and for groups. One such place had a name that I thought you North Street peeps would appreciate.

The GT is a nice big garden (surrounded by a significant wall) in the middle of a mostly Arab neighborhood. It sits beside a bus parking lot that is over-looked by a small cliff/hill that has a shape somewhat like the face of a skull. As you may remember, the Bible says that Jesus was crucified at a place called Golgatha, or loosely, "place of the skull."

I sat at the place where you see this cliff for quite a while. It was memorable. Prayed and sang a hymn (to myself, of course). Conscious that it might "not" be the place, I didn't really care. It sure looked like something that could have been, and regardless: it's the closest thing to it, if not in a geographical sense, surely in how it might have looked (to me, at least).

After a while, I continued on to the actual tomb. It is simply a rectangular hole in the wall with a place where the stone would be rolled away or into place. Inside is simple. But it's empty.

There was a small church or group from Sweden at one of the locations where groups can sit (there were about 12 of these throughout the walkway of the garden - I'd love to have been able to share communion at one of them in particular with North Street. Who knows...). An older man from the congregation played Amazing Grace on the hand saw. It was beautiful.

Most all sites we've visited either required an entry fee (more for the national parks, and slightly less for other sites). Very few sites didn't expect anything and the Garden Tomb was one of these. As such, I determined that I'd buy stuff from their gift shop, in which the prices weren't too bad anyway. I did buy from street vendors here and there as well.

After the Garden Tomb, we literally only had to walk about 200 yards north to visit the building of the Jerusalem Church of the Nazarene. We had found out where it was from Lindell Browning the day before, whose office also sits in the building. We were disappointed to find out that the Jerusalem Church's services are on Friday evenings, so we missed it (and we could have gone as we were just sitting in the hotel room that night, reading lots of great stuff but it would have been great to go).

So we went in and talked with Lindell and Kay Browning for a while. I had gone to ENC with one of their daughters for two years (Erin) who married Brian Ketchum. They are ministering in France now. I love their story: Erin grew up in the Middle East and Brian grew up for a while in Haiti. As such, Erin speaks Arabic and Brian speaks French. Now they are raising their kids in France.

I also met Tim Evans who is currently the pastor of the Jerusalem Church of the Nazarene. The church is an "international church," meaning that it is English-speaking and consists majoritively of American expats, young adults who are studying in Jerusalem or working for NGOs. Tim is soon to leave the church and will be serving a church in London. He grew up in Bangladesh and met his (British) wife while serving in Afghanistan.

My world seems so small.

It was great seeing the building and even more so sitting and talking Naz stuff with these people. I didn't know them prior to being in Jerusalem, but getting to know them so quickly and easily is a beautiful kind of thing that happens in the Church of the Nazarene. Mutual friends abound.

We then made our way back into the Old City. We decided to skip Herod's Gate to get in this time. So we went to Damascus Gate, but it was so mobbed, we just stood there. We were cattle going nowhere. So I suggested that we walk up to the next gate, which leads into the Christian quarter.

It was virtually empty.

We walked through and sat next to the Church of the Redeemer for a quick and small lunch. We've been sharing a lot of things. We had more falafel and also ordered a hot dog. The hot dog came in a pita with lettuce, a first for me.

Then we finally made our way into the Jewish quarter and found the entrance to the Western Wall plaza. Seeing it was great. Dad prayed right at the wall while Ron and I kind of stayed back taking pictures, though I did pray a short prayer. There are separate sections for men and women. Heads must be covered for prayer. Most people wore yamikahs. Dad wore his Red Sox hat.

We then began our way back to our hotel, but were turned around twice by Israeli police or military because we weren't Muslim and were too close to the mosque. It wouldn't have been an issue if it weren't for it being Ramadan. But it is certainly true that we were more free in moving around when we got here than in these later days. As Ramadan builds up to the end, more people come to Jerusalem. On Sunday night (the "Night of Power" or "Destiny"), we were told the next morning that the celebration & festivities went until 5:00 AM in the morning.

This is the Damascus Gate:

We made it back to our hotel room and settled in to read more about what we'd seen that day, a practice that was pretty much ritual for us this whole week.

It has been great to walk around mostly on our own. We certainly could have seen more on planned & guided tours (which have their benefits), but we liked being free to walk at our own pace and drive as we liked.

We left this morning and are currently sitting on a Swiss Air flight from Tel Aviv to Zurich where I cannot wait to see my family.

Everything Is Great

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Tue, 06 Aug 2013 09:51:00 +0000

(I had started this on Facebook, but it got too long, so I'm posting it here and will re-link on Facebook.)

I'm interrupting my "no social media during sabbatical" to update you all in the States. We've had a number of concerned texts, etc. regarding the security in the Middle East while we've been here.

Thank you for your concern and prayer.

Frankly, the only concern, worry, and fear that's arisen in myself while being here has been after checking US media reports for updates. For sure, we've taken the actual warnings from the US government seriously, registered as we were asked, and would have followed any order to evacuate. (We are leaving Israel as previously scheduled in a couple of hours.)

But the situation here in Israel appears to be much different than other areas right around us. I don't believe that the US Embassy in Israel has not been closed any more than it usually is (it always closes on Sunday and was open yesterday, I assume that it is today).

Our hotel was right in the middle of a vast-majority Arab neighborhood, in the middle of the last week of Ramadan, including Laylat al-Qadr, the "Night of Power." (If you know Old City Jerusalem at all, we were about a 4-5 minute walk from the Damascus Gate and even shorter to the Herod Gate, which we used the first trip into the Old City, but couldn't get into/out of the last couple of days because of the end of Ramadan and we are not Muslim.) Once I got the hang of walking through the streets the first couple of times, I began to feel like I was walking through any other city. So yes, there were a lot of people, people shouting, running, anything else that I might see during or after a big event in Boston.

...and I never felt like I was threatened or challenged while outside of my hotel room. The people here have been wonderful to us. Devoid of US State Department warnings, I wholeheartly encourage people to travel the world. Meet others. Learn their stories and that they are not just scary people on television, but that the vast majority of people in the world are very much like you in a lot of ways. Don't expect people to do things how you would, but be open to how things come. Yes, there are people who have horrible intentions out there. But if we live with eyes focused on them, we miss out on so much that is good.

Again, I don't want to be ignorant to the threat, but it will not completely control my walking forward.

I appreciate the work of Matthew Harding, a regular ole American who travels the world dancing with various groups of people to demonstrate just how awesome humanity is. Here is his latest video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pwe-pA6TaZk (if you have problems with the vernacular usage of the word "hell", don't click).

So we have had a great time, but are greatly looking forward to being with our family/spouses. Thank you again for your concerns and prayer.

I hope to be writing more throughout the day, but in the meantime, be sure to check out my site for previous postings from throughout my sabbatical: www.jeremydscott.com

To the North Street Community:

Thank you...and I can't wait to be back with you in several weeks. You are missed, but not nearly forgotten.

This is a picture we took this morning with our absolutely incredible hotel host/receptionist, Nirvana. Our trip here was many times better thanks to her advice, direction, and hospitality.

Arabs & Jesus: Another Day in Israel

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Sun, 04 Aug 2013 21:00:00 +0000

Today, I worshiped with real Nazarenes for the first time in my life.

(I've skipped another day, but let me tell you about today, which was awesome.)

Today, the day of Resurrection, we took things more slowly. We really only made two stops. We went back to Nazareth (we went yesterday too and saw the Church of the Annunciation...AMAZING...but that's for another post), driving almost two hours north to worship with the Nazareth Church of the Nazarene.

First century Nazareth is where Jesus came from. Now, it can be said that Jesus came from a number of places (born in Bethlehem, raised in Nazareth, lived in Capernaum later in life), but Jesus is from Nazareth kind of like I am from Windham, NH. It was the predominant place of our up-bringing.

When a few people began a new church in Los Angeles in the late 1800s including Phineas Bresee and J.P. Widney, they chose the name "Church of the Nazarene". Bresee and Widney wanted this new group of Christians to never forget their calling to the downtrodden and poor. One night, it came to Widney that the fact that Jesus came from Nazareth was not necessarily considered an honorable thing. Nazareth was apparently a rather dingy and sleepy place. In the gospels, when a dude named Nathanael heard that this so-called Messiah (Jesus) was from Nazareth, he replied, "Nazareth? Can anything good come from Nazareth?"

So Widney, and subsequently Bresee, wanted the name to reflect the fact that they weren't afraid to minister to and with people from places that others couldn't care less about.

This is how the denomination in which I minister got its name:

The Church of the Nazarene.

Over the years, the members of our denomination have become known as "Nazarenes". The literalist in me wants to remind people that we are not Nazarenes, but that we are members of the Church of THE Nazarene. It kind of takes away from the name a bit (for me). (It is also true that scholars believe that early Christians were often referred to as Nazarenes, so it can be considered to be another name for Christians...but whatever.)

Anyway...today I truly worshiped with real Nazarenes.

And it was wonderful.

The Church of the Nazarene in Nazareth is an Arabic-speaking church, pastored by Pastor Nazir Touma. Back in the 1980s, Rev. Lindell Browning (an American) pastored the church in Nazareth. He met Nazir one day when he was pumping his gas. He invited him to a meeting with the church. Nazir resisted, but then came. And that's that. Today, I watched Pastor Nazir lead worship in a packed sanctuary of some 125 people (his wife, Kaity, later said that many people were missing today). We stayed for lunch with them in their home after and talked, laughed, and prayed together.

Some good, STRONG coffee:

It was great to be with other "members of the Church of the Nazarene" today too. The picture below is of (from left to right): my father, father-in-law (Ron Parker), missionary to the Mid-East and (I think) Mid-East Field Director (Lindell Browning), and MNU Professor (Kelvin St. John). These guys were all in seminary together.

While it is a unique and interesting fact that I worshiped with Nazarenes in Nazareth today, the experience goes beyond the trivial.

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We all have prejudices because we're human. We remove prejudices by getting to know people. I'm just being honest here.

Despite the fact that before I came to the Middle East, I tried to have an open mind, I still have prejudices. Despite the fact that I have tried to mostly ignore the various streams of American populace and media that strive to portray one side or another as the worser one in the whole Palestinian-Israeli conflict (even sometimes assuming that the Palestinians are the victims before even coming here...likely just to play the devil's advocate among those who are in my circles), I still have prejudices. Despite the fact that I know a lot of Middle Eastern-Americans who are wonderful people who love the Lord (I even officiated at the wedding of one of them), I still have prejudices (after all...these have been "purified" by their American experience...). Ugh...see? We have prejudices.

So being here, staying in a predominantly Muslim neighborhood, in a hotel run by Arab people, walking to the Old City of Jerusalem through the two gates that lead to the Muslim quarter (Herod & Damascus), well it has been an experience. I have learned with first hand experience now that Middle Eastern Muslims are people. Not just faces on TV and unknown people in a distant land...but people. Humans. Their kids do the same things as mine.

I know. I've been watching. And they're incredibly cute.

The only thing that has caused fear in the last couple of days are words from the government in the land from which I come. Now I'm not saying that the US government is lying, not at all. Or that they are trying to make us fear (although...it sure seems like the media WANTS something to happen). I would not be surprised if something happens tonight. But if it does, it will not be the fault of the Muslim world, but the fault of a vast minority of the human populace corruptly bent by extreme political persuasions excused by their own understanding of religious belief.

Already, CNN (the one site I have looked at tonight - I have no care to look at any more) has used Muslim assumptions to over-generalize.

Okay, enough of this. All I was saying is that my prejudices - even though I've tried hard not to have them - have been slowly unfurled by being here.

And this morning was so helpful. Now I know I've been generalizing about Muslims, but the fact is that most Americans wouldn't know the difference between "Arab" and "Muslim". I think I have it correct to say now that "Arab" refers to ethnicity while "Muslim" certainly refers to religion. Arabs are from the Arabian Peninsula while Muslims are all over the world (in fact, I think I'd be correct in saying that there are many, many more Muslims outside of the Middle East than in it).

On the way to Nazareth this morning, I mentioned to my father and father-in-law that I wished I could speak and read Arabic. Most all of the road signs over here are in three languages: Hebrew, Arabic, and English (there are exceptions depending on what region we're in). Arabic has generally been an odd and even scary language to me, both in print and out loud. Again, despite my effort to make it otherwise, it just has been. (It's likely true that any foreign language can feel this way, I know). So I'd love to know the language so that when I hear the call to prayer from the minarets or people shouting down my hotel hall, I can understand what they're saying and not assume the worst.

So, to worship this morning in Arabic (well, not me, but those around me) and to read scripture this morning in Arabic and to hear a Nazarene missionary speak with an Arab pastor in Arabic today...was great for me.

May our prejudices fall apart.

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After we departed from Nazareth, we went back to the Sea of Galilee and turned north this time, to go to Capernaum, the ancient town of many stories, miracles, and New Testament characters. Many of the disciples, including Matthew & Peter were from Capernaum. The gospels say that Jesus centered his public ministry in Capernaum and that it was his home.

After being there today...I can totally see why he would.

It's right on the Sea of Galilee, which is a rather big freshwater lake. For you New Englanders, it's about the same size as Lake Winnepesaukee. Today, the wind was powerful, creating beautiful white-capped waves. We spent more time in Capernaum than we have at any other spot (other than Masada, but that's kind of a given). I think we were just ready to take something in for a good while. And being the fact that it's Sunday, it seemed appropriate to just sit on the water, watching the waves and birds, and seeing what Jesus actually saw.

...because many of the sites have been less than what one might have expected or anticipated. Please don't get me wrong - being here is incredible and anyone who can have the chance to should come. And I didn't really come with all that many expectations. So the inspiration in being here for me has not been like I can hear God better or anything, just that as pilgrimage, these places are revered and venerated both by the stories of scripture and by the history of pilgrimages by millions before me. But the changes over 2000 years are enough to make a literalist like me note that it is nothing "like it was."

The Sea of Galilee, however...those waves were rolling like Jesus must have seen them, and experienced them, and loved them.

While there were some ascetic moves in Jesus' life (wilderness time and prayer on the mountains, etc.), his move to Capernaum was not among them. It's beautiful. And it was a fishing village. On the water. With sunrises over to the left and sunsets over to the right. Both over huge, beautiful mountains. A totally livable area.

One of the surprises to me here in Israel has been the weather. I expected mostly dry, desert heat. And while it has been very hot at some points (late in the day at Masada), it has been very pleasant much of the time we've been here, and we are supposedly here in the hottest time of the year. The mountains we've driven through (and we've driven a lot of territory, we passed over 1000 total kilometers today) have been beautiful. There are mountains that are mostly rock like all the Jesus movies you've seen might imply, and there are dry vegetative mountains not unlike those in the desert of Southern California that I saw two weeks ago. But most of the mountains are very beautiful, particularly around the Sea of Galilee. Jesus picked a good home.

There is a monastery and church building built right among the ruins at Capernaum. It was a small town 2000 years ago, scholars guessing somewhere around 1500 people. So the ruins are that extensive. But the church was one of my favorites that I've seen. It's a very modern-looking Catholic Church, octagonal in shape, built over an ancient church (4th century) of the same size, which was built over the traditional site of Peter's house. I could totally worship in this sanctuary.

We also saw the ruins of a synagogue that some experts think was built on top of another synagogue in the 4th century as well. So the first one would have been Jesus'. It was kind of like seeing where his own local church was for me.

We drove back and are back in our hotel room. We barely thought about the terror threat today, and the return to our room was pretty much the only reminder that we're supposed to be afraid. We even kind of laughed about it with Revs. Browning and Touma. We should take terror seriously, but we need not let it cause us to fear.

Two thousand years ago there was an oppressive regime with way more power than Al Qaeda called the Roman Empire who used two pieces of wood strung across one another to cause fear all over the land. These things may hold us down for a little while, but we cannot live in fear. Otherwise we're not really winning. The terrorists are. That's why they're called terrorists.

We cannot live in fear. The Lord has shown us that in the end, life wins. Love wins. It's not about strength-power over-coming strength-power, but about love through submission overcoming strength-power.

For the Christian, there is no other way.

Love wins.

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In other news, Kelvin St. John looks just like Dan Shaghnnaussy, for all you Boston fans out there:

And for Kevin D.:

And my wife and family are having a great time in Switzerland running through lush green fields, climbing up to ancient castles, riding buses, trains, boats, and gondolas, and eating chocolate. My mother has plenty of pictures and videos on Facebook for those interested. Here's one:

I totally miss them.

We have one more full day in Israel.

A Day in Israel

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Fri, 02 Aug 2013 21:10:00 +0000

This post is very long. I'd apologize, but I'm putting it here on my blog just as much for my own recorded history as anything else. Maybe you'll make it to the end.

It's hard to believe that this is my first post since San Diego! We had a great time together in the first few days in Switzerland, where Meghan, Patty, and my mother all are still with the kids. It's hard being separate, but modern technology makes things a lot better than they used to be.

Our first days in Jerusalem have been incredible. For now, let me write about today.

Today, Friday, August 2nd, we headed down the eastern wall of the Old City (just inside is the Muslim quarter in the north-eastern corner and then further south is the Temple Mount, Dome of the Rock, Al Aqsa mosque, etc.). We came to Jerusalem this week unknowingly in the midst of Ramadan, a holy month for the Islamic faith. Among many other things, they are fasting each day from sunrise to sunset. Friday is a holy day anyway for them, so today was quite a day in Jerusalem. As we walked toward the Old City, we were in quite a crowd headed for the Old City mosque. Later, we were told that as many as 500,000 people gather in Jerusalem for the Friday prayers during Ramadan. And as the month builds up to its conclusion, many more come as the last ten days kind of end up being like a family vacation (it ends this year on Wednesday, the day after we leave). The Qu'ran implies that prayers offered from Al Aqsa mosque are worth 1000 times more than elsewhere.

I did not come to Jerusalem to learn more about Islam. But being here during this time has led to it anyway. I pray that some of my prejudices go away through this. We are staying in a neighborhood that is predominantly Muslim. The hotel has been wonderful, with an amazing breakfast that we look forward to each morning. Being in this area and walking amongst many Muslim people, particularly during Ramadan has led me to many questions for which I've sought answers in the last 72 hours.

I think that part of why I've read so much about all this is because the US State Department issued a warning today to people traveling abroad regarding heightened security in Middle Eastern areas. The US Embassy here in Israel (among others) will even be closed on Sunday and perhaps longer. I intend not to be fearful, but well...you know. We are staying in a great hotel in the middle of a Muslim district. We are a few hundred yards from the Damascus Gate, which is the main entrance into the Muslim quarter of the Old City. And each night since we've gotten here, a large cannon blast goes off to mark the end of the fast each day. We didn't really know what it was at first. (!)

One thing I have learned and come to appreciate is the importance of Jerusalem to so many. I have been able to say such a thing before, but thinking it was mostly a political thing (and it is in great part political). But learning some of what has happened here in Jerusalem over the last 1500 years while here has shown me that "they" are not just trying to take over, but that Jerusalem, the Temple Mount, and other holy places (Hebron: Abraham/Ibrihim's burial place, etc.) are truly of great value to them. I may disagree with them on many important things, but I can no longer mistake the motives of their desires. It's not simply about territory.

Anyway, back to today.

Once we got out of the stream of the crowd headed in for prayers at Al Aqsa, we headed to what we thought was the entrance to the Mount of Olives. After some uncertainty of where we were, a local named Khaled helped point us to the Tomb of Mary and then the Gethsemane Grotto. The tomb is said to be where Mary was buried. It was deep in the ground. The grotto is said to be where Jesus and his disciples often camped and where he may have spoken with Nicodemus. It is said to be where Jesus took his disciples to pray the night he was betrayed and arrested, but the place where he wept is further at the Church of All Nations (we did not go in there today).

Just a note that when I say "Jesus did this here" or "Someone died here", I am simply speaking what tradition holds. Though it is clear that many pilgrims here take very seriously that what is said to have happened at each location actually did, I need no such fact. What is true to me is that these are important places, venerated by thousands of years of church history, religious devotion and inspiration, and now...tourism. The amount of tourism that is seen here is sometimes disturbing to me. And I write this as one who has shot hundreds of pictures. When possible or not otherwise obvious, I've tried to ask permission of the monk or priest present in each place. And in many of the places, I have attempted to sit in silence, pray, and otherwise take in the moment and place. It has sometimes been valuable. In other times, it has been difficult because of the busy tourism (of which I totally confess I am a part, despite my effort at pilgrimage as well).

When we finished outside the grotto, it was clear that our new friend, Khaled, wanted to take us further up the Mount of Olives and then to Bethlehem, Bethany, Jericho, and anywhere else we'd pay him to take us (he drives a taxi). We proceeded cautiously, and took one step at a time with him, but did eventually have him serve us as driver and sometimes guide to the top of the Mount of Olives, Bethlehem, and Bethany. He also pointed out many things about Jerusalem in between all of these places as we drove. He is a Christian.

He first drove us up "Palm Sunday Drive". We stopped at the church built where it's said that Jesus wept over Jerusalem. It is called the Church of Dominus Flevit and was built in the 1950s (so new!) in the shape of a teardrop. I can't describe in words how poignant this was on this given day. With the Arabic coming very loudly from the Friday Ramadan prayer service just over the way, over the City of David and Jewish cemeteries, thinking about Jesus weeping over Jerusalem was powerful. The architects very thoughtfully and I assume purposely built the wall behind the altar with a window that faces the Old City. The image of the Dome of the Rock can't be missed by those who know the implications.

I spent some time speaking with Brother Leo, who is one of the two monks who takes care of the church. He is Franciscan and originally from California. He was very kind once he saw that I had great interest in the church and all that it meant. This short stop was one of my favorites of the day.

We then continued up the Mount and headed for the (Chapel) Dome of the Ascension, which is part of a mosque now, but marks the traditional place where Jesus ascended. There was a spot on the ground where it's said that his feet made impressions. The right foot print is still there, but the left was removed and now is in behind the pulpit in the Dome of the Rock.

While we were there, a Russian Orthodox group was singing/chanting some prayers. (The Muslim oversight allows Christians to come in and visit and also have celebrations & services on various Ascension Day observances.) Hearing the group was a nice touch for us. I wasn't too awed by the spot. In fact, I noticed something else that caught my attention. In a window up above our heads there sat a white morning dove watching us all. That seemed even more special to me than what lay on the floor in front of me. I've had a number of experiences like this, as if to say, "God is free and flies where God likes, not in the confines of holy places marked by humans."

We then got back in Khaled's car and he made a quick stop to buy us some cold water (much appreciated!). Then we stopped at an observatory over-looking the desert to the east of the Mount of Olives. Hebrew University was right behind us - a huge and impressive place.

Then Khaled took us to Bethlehem, a 25-minute journey or so. He said he was taking the back roads and surely he did. I confess that I took out my phone to check the GPS a time or two to see that we were indeed headed to Bethlehem. Bethlehem is overseen by Palestinian authorities so you don't just easily drive in and drive out. But Khaled knew what he was doing. Bethlehemites depend on tourism and pilgrims, so we were welcomed. We first went into an olive wood-working shop. We were told that the rooms were at least a millennium old and they certainly looked it. The sawdust and wood chips on the floor were several inches deep (perhaps more). The point of bringing us in there was obvious as we were then directed to the shop where we could buy stuff made in the shop. We looked around quite a bit and I did love pretty much everything I saw. We asked the shop owner to let us come back after we visited the sites and he obliged. (He wanted us to buy right then.)

So next Khaled had arranged for us to walk with Issa, a resident of Bethlehem. He sure knew his stuff as he walked us around. We went to the impressive Church of the Nativity, the oldest complete church in the world said to be built over the site where Jesus was born. The building itself was awesome to me. It is also overseen by three groups (like Holy Sepulchre): Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and Armenian. The Eastern Orthodox Church has oversight of the oldest and main part of the sanctuary, but all three oversee Jesus' birth site directly under it at various agreed-upon times. The Roman Catholic Church has built a beautiful church to the left, which various Popes (including most recently Benedict in 2009) have visited.

The trip down into the basement to see the birth place was interesting. It is a very holy place to many people. As we waited in line to see the star that marks his birthplace, a mother and a sick baby with oxygen tubes (I think she was European of some sort, maybe French?) came down with a guide and laid the baby on the star. After a moment, the Greek Orthodox priest overseeing the grotto came and offered blessings over the child while the rest of us waited patiently, somewhat in awe of what was going on. The age of the baby was not lost on us.

We ascended back up and into the Roman Catholic Church adjoining the building (Church of St. Catherine of Alexandria). This is the chapel in which services we might watch on TV on Christmas Eve are held.

The Church of the Nativity is also the place that many of us have seen on TV with brawls and fights around Christmas time. The three groups often have disagreements over various things, leading to the scuffles.

I asked our new friend, Issa ("Jesus") about these and why they fight. He said that it's usually over territorial things and gave an example of a priest from one group cleaning stairs that belonged to another, leading to a fight. Some things are the same in different places.

Also in the basement of St. Catherine were two surprise finds (not many people were down there - we were thankful to have Issa's knowledge and leading with us). The first was quite a find for me, personally - a powerful spot. The Chapel of the Holy Innocents marks those baby boys who were killed by Herod in the attempt to kill the Messiah-child (Jesus). And attached to this is a supposed work-room, the Cave of St. Jerome, who oversaw the translation of the Bible into the vernacular in the late 300s (Latin). Called the Vulgate, it was basically the official version of the Bible for the Roman Catholic Church until early last century.

We then parted ways with Issa and found Khaled again in the olive wood shop. I did purchase a few things: a chalice, plate, and a hand-made stole with Jerusalem crosses on it. The Jerusalem cross is all over the place here and is actually five composite crosses, marking the five piercings of Christ (two hands, two feet, and side). I have many pictures of the cross in multiple places.

Khaled then drove us down from Bethlehem through a pretty crazy snake-turning road. I told him that I hoped his brakes were good (they worked).

He lastly took us to Bethany (actually today is Al-Azariyeh), a place that appeared to us to be not often-visited. We came to see the tomb of Lazarus and a church nearby it. We thought it was kind of weird when we got there - a ghost-town, almost. Khaled had a local take us in and he literally had to turn the lights on for Lazarus' tomb. It was by far the most dreary sight that we saw of any of the holy places. I asked the man (I forget his name already!) who has oversight and he said that two Muslim families allow people to come in still. The young man also said he doesn't usually speak English, but can speak Russian (in addition to Arabic, of course). He said that he hadn't brought anyone into the tomb in over a month, noting just how rarely people go there now.

Since I have been in the hotel room this evening, I've read more about why. The security wall built by Israel to separate the Palestinian-overseen places from Israeli has cut off many areas. I really felt for the towns that we saw. Bethlehem still draws at least some visitors (as it is after all still Bethlehem), but the shops in there did seem to be more desperate to sell to us. But Bethany-Al-Azariyeh...very sad.

I hate walls.

The tomb of Lazarus was dark and dirty. I was afraid for all of us going down the stairs as they need a lot of work. It went pretty deep into the ground and then the tomb itself was even further. You had to get down onto your hands and knees to get in. I didn't go in, but Dad & Ron did.

After the tomb of Lazarus, our friend took us to the Greek Orthodox church down the street, said to be of Simon the Leper. It was a beautiful sanctuary, built only back in the 60s. There was a large group listening to a lecture in Spanish when we went in. I was very intrigued by what was going on (of all the languages I've heard on this trip, German, Dutch, Russian, Hebrew, Arabic, French, and English, this was the first time I'd heard Spanish, the language I'm trying to learn). But we left. Our friend took us to a room that was completely dark in the church complex. We used our cell phones to light it up and he showed us an ancient olive press. He didn't know much else about the room, or was too afraid to try his English to tell us.

We then went back and found Khaled who drove us as close to our hotel as he could as the streets around Old City Jerusalem were still blockaded by police for Friday during Ramadan.

Each night we've spent hours in our room reading about what we've seen and/or will see. Tonight we got back just before 4:00 and with the security warning, we all kind of silently agreed to stay in for the night. I feel better now about going back out tomorrow, but it is also Shabbat, so many things are closed.

The Nease Legacy

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Wed, 24 Jul 2013 12:58:00 +0000

Part of this summer was to delve a bit into my Nease family history. The Nease family has been in the CotN from the beginning, with the transfer of my great-great grandfather Rev. William Oscar Nease in the young holiness denomination. Two of his children (Floyd & Orval) went on to pastor and administrate in the struggling but growing world of Nazarene higher education.

Today, the United States has ten college/university/seminary locations in the United States. Someone in the Nease family has served as president of half of them at one point or another. Many others in the family have taught or served them in some other ways (President of alumni associations, professors, and so on). Dozens more have been students.

In the past, more people cared about such things. Today, I care as these are part of my family history and in great part, the formation of who I am. So I visited both with people and in places that somehow spoke to the Neases who walked before me.

When we wrote the narrative proposal for a grant for this sabbatical in May of 2012, I planned this West Coast trip in part to sit and meet with Orval J. Nease II, who I believe is my first cousin, twice removed. Alas, he passed away ten months ago. But I got to eat lunch and spend some time last Friday with his widow, Jean Nease and his step-brother, Robert ("Bob" Nease and wife, Betty. It was wonderful. I greatly value the conversation we had. Betty, Bob, Jean, and I:

This morning, as I reflected with a mentor, I acknowledged that I can be a rather sentimental person. Thinking that someone has walked in the same place that I am visiting is meaningful to me. I can't explain why. And so I visited places that would otherwise bore most anyone else while on the West Coast portion of this trip.

After breakfast on Monday (July 22), Dr. Mary Paul directed me to Point Loma Nazarene University's campus and showed me a few buildings/sites that I was interested in. I had been here twice before when representing ENC as student body president for two years. For some *unknown* reason, the SBPs of each Nazarene institution get together for meetings every year in the same place: PLNU in San Diego. In January. Go figure.

But my previous visits had me with slightly less-interested eyes toward plaques and buildings and such. This visit to PLNU was different.

So on Monday morning, I spent some time walking around Nease Hall, named after my great grandfather's brother (is that my great-great uncle?), Orval J. Nease. He was president of then Pasadena Nazarene College, which later moved to Point Loma and became PLNU. I also spent some time in the Prescott Chapel, a beautiful little prayer chapel that was originally built on the Pasadena campus, but made the trip to the Point Loma campus when they moved.

Prescott Chapel:

I then spent some time in the library reading some Nease history. I'm kicking myself because I was within two blocks of a few family graves while in Pasadena, including supposedly that of William O. himself, but I did not visit them.

I was hoping to find a plaque that I had seen while I was out here as a college student in 2002. It listed all the student body presidents of the college since the beginning. My recollection was that my great-grandfather's name was listed on it, but alas...it is no longer where it was and no one in the nearby offices seemed to know anything. I contacted the archivist and she said she might be able to find it (she could not). I came to find out later that he was not the first, but that Fred J. Shields who would later be president at ENC and has a mens dormitory named after him at ENC was the first (that we could find). My great-grandfather, also to go on to oversee ENC, was the second. (Shields would leave ENC to come back to PNC to be a professor, with FWN succeeding him as president at ENC). This is Floyd's associated student president picture:

On Tuesday, I went back to the PLNU library and worked through parts of two history books on the school and looked at every page of some ten yearbooks that would include my great-grandfather (Floyd W. Nease) and his brother (Orval J. Nease I). I also found pictures of their sister, Elizabeth Nease, who taught briefly at PNC, beginning when Orval was president.

I am grateful for the help of the library archivist, Linda Hasper, in identifying and copying some resources. I found many pictures I had not seen and some pieces of writing I'd not read before.

I found the parallel struggles and victories of Floyd and Orval who served in very similar situations, partially concurrently, as the very young presidents of struggling young Nazarene colleges, one on the West Coast (Orval - Pasadena Nazarene College, now Point Loma Nazarene University, 1928-1933) and the other on the East Coast (Floyd - Eastern Nazarene College, 1924-1930). One author noted their similar tactics.

Both brothers built administration buildings as a way to increase excitement amongst the college communities. It was a struggle for both. But both persisted and succeeded in the building projects, though not without considerable adversity and financial struggles, coming in the heat and wake of the Great Depression.

Today, what was Fowler Memorial (?) on ENC's campus still stands, though with decades of renovations and a more commonly-known name: Gardner Hall. The Nease Hall (previously Bresee Memorial Building) is also still standing in Pasadena, CA, but on the old campus of Pasadena Nazarene College, which was sold in 1973. A number of schools and ministries use that campus now, including William Carey International and Providence Christian College.

What was Nease Hall (PNC-->PLNU) today, now named for someone else. I read about him...but forgot the name.

Fowler Hall (ENC) with Floyd standing on the steps:

And closer to today as Gardner Hall (thanks to Wikipedia):

Nazarene higher education has surely changed, perhaps a world away from where they began, if not geographically, certainly in scope of mission and breadth of education. Reading about these two young men in their late 20s and early 30s leading these institutions is almost laughable in comparison to today's world of higher education. It's laughable not simply because of their age, but also the struggles that they went through and succeeded, which seem certainly impossible if to transpire today.

Can anyone imagine a whole college faculty going two months without pay and still sticking around?

...or the salary of a president having to come via meals and food from the campus cafeteria for a period because they just didn't have the cash?

...or the debt of a college being partially held in check by the president himself getting together with but one other trustee to write off a note?

...or by mortgaging his own house to pay a portion of the college's debt?

Crazy, foolish, young guys...how on earth did God ever do anything through them?

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Today, my mother - Linda Nease Scott - serves as Associate Dean for ENC. Administration in the blood, you might say.

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I didn't know my great-grandfather, Floyd. There's no one alive who did as he died at the age of 37 while traveling for ENC, working hard raising money for the cash-strapped school. He died in Pittsburgh. My grandfather was five years old.

Pardon me for a moment:

I miss my grandfather, Stephen W. Nease. He died in 2006, but his person slowly began dying many years earlier. I have many great memories of the man: fishing, talking, traveling with him from church-to-church while he was out preaching. I remember the smell of their home (a variety of things, but mostly Old Spice). I would often visit them while he was president at ENC, spending the night in their house...in the town in which I now minister: Hingham, MA.

Go figure.

Grandpa served four institutions as President: Mount Vernon Nazarene College (now University), Bethany Nazarene College (now Southern Nazarene University), Nazarene Theological Seminary, and finally, his and my alma mater, Eastern Nazarene College.

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The other day I was in one of the library worker's offices at PLNU asking about something or other. As she searched for it on the computer, I noticed a book in her small library: Grace in the Academic Community. I believe it is the only book in which my grandfather is published, having written but one small chapter. I suppose the Nazarene world is small enough, but in that moment, it was neat to find it on her shelf. I asked her if she'd read it. She hesitated, but said she had.

I mostly just smiled.

Wonderful People in San Diego

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Wed, 24 Jul 2013 02:39:00 +0000

"gods wants are theaters trying love all."

God's wants are theaters trying to love all.

(I'll come back to explain the above a bit below. The first line was as typed and delivered to me, the second is my interpretation.)

I can't possibly recount all that has happened since my last post in one new one. For now, I will simply post about what has happened since Sunday, July 21. I have aspirations of recounting other past days in the coming weeks, but who knows. Each day has been wonderfully filled, and my lack of posting is simply due to a lack of time rather than a short-coming of happenings. I am currently sitting and typing in the San Diego airport, having come very early for my 10:30 PM overnight trans-continental flight.

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I began Sunday at breakfast with Nathan & Lauren Scott, members of our North Street Community (at Old Town House Breakfast). This is somewhat a breach of pastoral sabbatical rules, but Nathan & Lauren were mostly careful to keep things focused on the moment. It was great to meet up with them, particularly as they know these neighborhoods, having lived here for a few years.

I had already planned on worshiping with the Mid-City CotN before meeting up with Nathan & Lauren, and it was their church community while out here, so we all went together.

I'd heard of Mid-City a while ago and have appreciated her ministry from afar. Today, seven different language-speaking congregations share the building. I'm unaware of such a thing anywhere else in the CotN. Rev. Dr. John Wright is the pastor of the English-speaking congregation and as he is a kindredly-spirited quasi-postliberal scholar and pastor, I've appreciated him from afar. It was great to finally meet him and worship with the community he pastors.

I had an unexpected surprise right after worship. Nathan was out here for the Comic-Con gathering, a conference celebrating and highlighting the popular arts. It's also a self-professed HQ of nerds. Tens of thousands (hundreds of thousands?) of light-saber wielding, make up-donning, zombie-marching people had descended on San Diego over the last week or so (driving up the hotel prices!). But tickets are hard to come by, so I was grateful that Nathan got me in to the convention hall even for 45 minutes.

And then I had another surprise. I had read a book given to me by Lauren Scott last year called, "I Am Intelligent" by Peyton Goddard and her mother, Dianne Goddard. It was a highly inspirational book. You can read my review of it here (http://www.amazon.com/review/R2LOX5RAP5AS9J/ref=cm_cr_pr_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B0083RVH4U&linkCode=&nodeID=&tag=). Well Lauren is great friends with the family and they all invited me over the Goddard's house. It was an awesome hour or so and I was psyched to meet Peyton and her parents. She communicated with me through a facilitated communication device, which her mother and she used to type out her words. Among many other things, Peyton shared her heart-challenging words at the beginning of this post. Chew on what it says for a bit. Her way with words is quite poetic and powerful and I wholeheartedly recommend her book to any and all, particularly if you are interested in the things of peace, love, justice, and the quest for understanding the world of autism. Theirs is a heart-wrenching and powerful story.

I left their house to get to worship on time with the Peace River Fellowship Church.

For the first two years that I was in college, I worshiped with the Quincy Bethel Church of the Nazarene, pastored by Mary Paul. I played on the worship team with a number of great people, including Mark Mann and many others (Dan Jewell, Doug Hardy, Tom Oord, my cousin - Amie Gardner, Gwen Pasquarelli, Jimmy Rearick, Nancy Ross, among others).

I look back on those years as very formative and appreciate a church giving a young college student a place to minister. It was also Bruce & Mary Paul who led a trip I went on to Guyana later in college, also a very formative time for me.

Well Bruce, Mary, Mark and others started this newer church fellowship that gathers on Sunday evenings in the Point Loma United Methodist Church's fellowship hall. I loved my time with them as it reminded me very much of the church I primarily grew up in - Windham Faith Community CotN. The marks of these two churches include lots of children running about and a highly-relaxed but intentional time of corporate prayer and worship. I was very glad for this reminder of my childhood faith formation.

During the potluck after (of course!), I got to talk to Mark just a bit (who is my wife's second cousin...or some such relation) and met Tim Whetstone, who I don't think I had met before, but felt like I "knew" from his uncle Gerry's updates over the last few months. Gerry and I work closely together on the New England District and I love/miss the man. I also saw Carl & Rhonda Winderl, other past-ENC community members. They gather with Peace River when they're in town. They will also be flying over the Atlantic about the same time my family and I will be on Thursday, they to London, and we to Zurich.

On Monday morning I got to spend time eating breakfast with Bruce & Mary (Newbreak Coffee & Cafe). They have come to know many people throughout their various places of ministry, so I'm thankful that they took the time to sit with but one of them for a while Monday morning. We laughed about such things as Boston sports and the complexities of various regional cultures in the United States. I was also highly impressed by Bruce's ability to name the planes periodically flying over our heads away from the airport.

Monday during the day I did some family research that I will write about in a separate posting.

On Monday night I had lots of conversation with Gary & James Parker, who I knew from Kansas City days. They moved out here a couple of years ago to San Diego where Gary had lived before. It was great hanging out with them for a few hours. We ate at Ruby's Diner in a mall somewhere (James' choice). We talked about all things Nazarene and beyond.

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Today (Tuesday, July 23) I had breakfast with my seminary president, Dr. Ron Benefiel (Shades on Ocean Beach). We talked about North Street, mutual friends, the shelter ministry, the complexities of compassionate ministry centers and the churches around them, and all sorts of stuff. We certainly reflected on the beauty of the life of his wife, Janet, who passed away several months ago and the monstrosity that is death. We agreed, with the spirit of Janet's leading, that death is a horrible thing in front of which we stand firm and steadfast in the hope of Christ's resurrection and glory.

I forgot to take a picture with him, but he was proudly wearing a KC Royals hat. Below is but one picture of the many I took of the fountain outside Prescott Chapel placed there this year by the graduating class (2013) of PLNU in memory of Janet. They did this not knowing that the original plans for Prescott Chapel included a fountain which has only now come to fruition after 40 years. Ron was one of the students who proposed and executed the original plan for Prescott Chapel. Beautiful.

I then went back to the PLNU library and did more family research.

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These have been inspiring days on this West Coast trip. When I laid my head down each night it was "full", but I have never felt fatigued. It's interestingly refreshing. I got the rental car with 16772 miles on it and as you'll see from the picture below, when I returned it to Enterprise a couple of hours ago, I had remarkably put exactly 2000 miles on the odometer. Not for a single mile of those 2000 miles did I find myself tired or weary of driving. I've loved every inch of it.

This evening I begin the air-trek to Salisbury, MD to retrieve my family (WOOHOO!!!) and in-laws to then fly on Thursday to Switzerland. It'll be a nine hour time-shift for me. We'll see how that goes. The first 24 hours in Portland were not great as I did not adjust well on the trip out here.

A Sabbatical Drive

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Wed, 17 Jul 2013 17:29:00 +0000

I'm currently sitting in Moby's Coffee & Tea in North Hollywood, CA. It's a nice little place that my cousin Wesley recommended. I had dinner and several hours of great conversation with Wes last night, catching up on life and family. It was so great to see him. Dude even let me have his bed. Now if I can only find my other cousin, his brother Nelson, who supposedly lives on the south shore of Boston somewhere. Nelson...you out there?

So, in short, my drive from Portland to LA was spectacular. It was everything I might have imagined it would be.

I was mostly on US Route 101 from Lincoln City, OR, all the way until Route 152, which takes one from 101 to Interstate 5. Rte. 152 was a pleasant surprise and one of the most beautiful segments of the whole shebang. I also got off 101 to go through the "Avenue of the Giants", part of the redwood phenomenon in Northern California. I have driven well over 1000 miles in two days and not once was I tired or even tired of driving. It has been grace-filled, nourishing, and inspiring.

Somewhere in Oregon between Tigard and Lincoln City, outside a Dairy Queen:

(By the way, I did run the 5K race in Oregon. Didn't do as well as I might have liked, but the whole night was a pleasant surprise as it was actually put on by a church and we worshiped together. The speaker of the Word that night relied heavily on a Johnny Cash song and is currently ministering in Israel. God spoke to me that night. Very thankful.)

This was my first view of the Pacific in some twelve years, Lincoln City, OR. It was about :

This is the car I rented for this whole trip. I got a free upgrade and have thoroughly enjoyed this Hyundai Sonata. The gas mileage has been incredible as I've only filled it up twice and at the moment still have half a tank.

My drive on the "Avenue of the Giants" happened around 8:00 at night which was great because no one else was on it. There was plenty of light for me to enjoy what I was seeing. I'd seen the redwoods when I was real young (4.5), but with my growing love for trees over the last seven years, this was special for me.

I have been kept company by a whole bunch of music, but most memorable has been Johnny Cash, Macklemore & Ryan Lewis (thanks to my friend who suggested I give it a try), Ennio Morricone, Vivaldi, and Arcade Fire. I honestly cannot remember how long it's been since I've been able to listen to whole albums at a time. I've also spent a lot of time driving in silence. And a lot with the windows down.

I'm unable to recount everything I saw, but can't wait to share it with my church community in several weeks. I totally miss my family, but have talked regularly to them.

I've thought lots of thoughts and prayed lots of prayers over these some 1000 miles so far. One thing for now: The world is a really, really, really big place. Chill out and enjoy it.

The first two pics here are out of order, they are in Oregon:

Likely the most photographed bridge in the world. I didn't even stop.

Seriously: Route 152 was a beautiful surprise. Amazing:

This was closer to LA on I-5:

One last thing for now: I began yesterday in Ukiah, CA. It was a beautiful 58 degrees when I woke up. At one point on I-5 about 2 hours north of LA, my car's thermometer said 101 degrees. I remember from an early age being told how California is such a big state that such things can happen. But it was pretty interesting to go between the two extremes.

I've long said that I am not big on California. San Diego is beautiful and all and a great place to visit, but all-in-all, when I think California, I think "lots of crowded people/places" kind of like Cape Cod on steroids. I've always said, "As for me, I prefer Northern Vermont." Friends in seminary from NorCal told me that I needed to check out Northern California as it would change my mind.

They were right.

Northern California is amazing. Kinda like Vermont on steroids.

Beautiful country, this is.

Food Trucks & Father Cedric

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Sat, 13 Jul 2013 21:21:00 +0000

That there is a waffle, sausage, & maple breakfast sandwich. It was heavenly. Here in Portland a whole lot of people sell food out of food trucks. This little place ("Flavour") is appropriately at the corner of N. Lombard and N. Boston...which is kind of funny because there really isn't much of a "North Boston" in actuality. At least, not of the Boston in Massachusetts.

I've seen a few funny uses of Boston in my travels thus far. There is a chain called "Boston Pizza". We saw franchises twice, once in Canada and another somewhere else that I'm forgetting. I had no clue Boston was especially known for its pizza. Could have fooled me.

I stayed the last two nights in the home of Nick, Mandy, Dom, Eli, & Mia Mucci, where the weather is cool, the sun is bright, and the food is scrumptiously healthy.

Nick and I went to college together. He gave me a concussion once. For real. And we went through a lot of other awesome things together. The Muccis are an incredible family doing the work of the Lord, particularly through hospitality, mentoring/discipling, and doing whatever they can to live Jesus in their neighborhood and community. Yesterday, we all went to downtown Portland and had lunch at one of the major food truck markets there. My grilled cheese sandwich yesterday was as scrumptious as my waffle sandwich today. I decided to forego the "Original Cheesus", settling for the "Moondog" or some such thing, leaving the eating of Christ for shared moments of communion.

Here is one shot of the food truck scene in downtown Portland:

And here is the place I got my grilled cheese from. Thankfully, it was as good as my childhood...which was good and all:

At the moment I'm sitting in The Living Room, which is the community space of Adsideo Community. It's a great space open to the Sellwood neighborhood of Portland. They worship here together on Sundays as well. I hope to join them in the morning. Already I've been challenged by the community here. I have a lot to think about.

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On the drive here from North Portland, I was surfing the radio channels. Boston doesn't have much Christian radio, certainly not on the FM waves. When I lived in Kansas City, I'd often tune to the Christian stations, mostly to argue with what I was hearing. I was after all, in seminary, and *needed* to show someone how impressive I was in what I was learning, even if it was my own head.

In more recent times when I've heard "Christian" preaching on the radio I've tried to tone down my know-it-all seminarian ways and listen a bit more. What I've learned is that God works in a whole variety of ways. Much of what I hear on the radio seems rather junkish...but God works through such things. I guess we call that grace.

The two times I've tuned in during the last 48 hours I've been challenged, even though the speakers were hardly speaking from a Wesleyan-Arminian perspective and used tactics that I cringe at.

This morning, I happened to turn a message on as the preceding gospel reading was just finishing. Some guy I'd never heard of before began speaking about "play." It turns out that Father Cedric is originally from Massachusetts. Go figure. I have never heard of him before and I certainly didn't jive with all that he said, but God surely spoke through his recorded message to me this morning.

He covered the topics of play and sabbath. He said a lot, but two things particularly spoke to me:

First - "Invite God into your play"

One of the things I think we struggle with in understanding sabbath is just exactly what it entails. Is it rest? Is it active recreation? Is is unproductivity? Is it productivity through unproductivity? More practically, does taking a nap really count? Do I have to be sitting on a beach in Maui or Vermont? Must I be on a mountain as Jesus always seemed to be? Is worship involved? How did "the sabbath" become Sunday? Should we go through the work of getting all dressed up, prim & proper, if it feels like work and not rest? And so on...just what exactly does sabbath entail?

I've often felt guilty at some of the things I've considered to be sabbath-practice, mostly because the world implies a certain kind of necessity of production that can be easily measured, usually in some kind of denotable increase. Well the results - that is, the production - of the Kingdom aren't exactly always so easily measured. We need to keep this in mind when assessing the worthiness of ANY Kingdom work, including that of sabbath-keeping.

Father Cedric's instruction to "invite God into your play" is one way to help keep sabbath-keeping intentional. Can you invite God to speak to you in what you are doing? And don't dismiss some things quickly. Consider it. Fr. Cedric even used the example of doing a crossword puzzle - ask God to help you discover that elusive answer. While seemingly a bit of a stretch, if you're going to do crossword puzzles at all, why wouldn't you invite God into the process?

This opens up all sorts of possibilities: Into what should we, can we, invite God?

Everything.

And if the answer to any given situation is "No, I cannot invite God into this," then why do it?

I can invite God into the play-time with my children (indeed, God's already there!).

I can invite God into my nap time: "Dear Lord, may this time be a sabbath rest."

I can invite God into the game of basketball I am playing: "God, help me to display myself with Christ-like decorum...and forgiveness!"

I can invite God into anything I'm doing. Or I shouldn't do it at all.

Second - "Mix the amount of your play well."

Fr. Cedric's advice here is to remember that the sabbath is every seventh day (not seven days a week). That sleep is required for seven-eight hours a day (not twenty-four). He quoted a proverb (25:16):

"If you have found honey, eat only enough for you,

or else, having too much, you will vomit it."

I need to hear this. As "busy" as I am, I can easily make excuses to procrastinate via simply labeling something "sabbath-keeping". The key is to invite God in, and if the Spirit is leading me to do else-wise...then listen.

If I've felt guilty about doing something that isn't overtly "productive", then the flip side is passing off unproductive activities as "sabbath-keeping." Again, a question of assessment helps:

Is God able to work in me through this activity?

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In other news, on the opposite side of the continent, Meghan ran her first 5K this morning. She killed it. I run one tomorrow evening out here in Portland before beginning to head south.

And so it begins...

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Fri, 12 Jul 2013 15:36:00 +0000

(Wrote this yesterday...)

This is what I look like when I have to wake up at 2:45 AM to catch a flight. I'm sure this is information that you have been hoping for all along coming out of a sabbatical. And it's *surely* the first thing I thought I'd post having been several days since I have done so.

I'm writing this on a plane right now from Denver to Portland. I am beginning the portion of my sabbatical journey wherein I have left my family behind (safely in Salisbury, MD with Meghan's parents) and I will be traveling alone from Portland to San Diego by car. I've been greatly looking forward to these next twelve days for some time.

I will be visiting with old friends and mentors all along the way. I'll visit some sites, I suppose, but the main thing is driving sights of the coast and visiting with these people. I have long-loved to drive. In high school I was rather a loner, mostly by choice, but certainly also because social circles didn't seem to have the right place for me, or so I thought. I tended to float from group to group rather than allow people to become good friends. I still often act in this way. It is one thing the Lord is working on with me. Being an introvert and a pastor is not a rare thing (interesting when you think about it, really), but it's not always a favorable thing. Some think it weird that I greatly enjoy preaching to crowds of people at the same time, but struggle sometimes when sitting one-on-one across a table from someone. Like I said, the Lord's working...

So I mostly kept to myself in high school and the beginning of college. One result is that I grew to love the open road. I often drove far distances to see my favorite band or to go to our family cabin & camp in Vermont. With the windows down, music playing, and coffee in my hand, life was great.

When Meghan and I got married, we easily shared this love. We chose to drive quite a bit on our honeymoon, including over four hours the very day we got married. And we have loved to drive together to many places. Vermont, of course, is our all-time favorite. Later in college, we liked to go for shorter drives around the south shore of Boston. We can remember driving to church on Sundays through a little town not far from Quincy. Meghan remarked how "cute" the little coastal downtown was. Little did we know that Hingham would become our home.

As kids have come along, driving for fun has become rare. Our kids have certainly seen their share of the road and we enjoy driving together as a family, but for me, it's not quite like it used to be on the open road. So I'm looking forward to this very much.

I'm not driving every day. The first couple of days I will be here in Portland visiting with friends, reading, and praying. I continue to covet your prayer.

Burlington & A Boat

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy) — Thu, 04 Jul 2013 18:06:00 +0000

Yesterday we began our day with the decision to take one of the girls to a dermatologist in Burlington to look at a mark on her skin that had been concerning us for several days. Rather than worry about it, we wanted some conclusion, even though we knew it was likely nothing. It was indeed nothing and now we don't have to worry all summer. We are blessed that they took us in with less than an hour's notice (has never happened for us at our own dermatologist in MA!), that we have a way to pay for such things, and that everything is okay.

We were in Burlington already and decided to walk around just a bit and have lunch there. I was again reminded how much I like that city. It's full of culture, sits on my favorite body of water in the world, and one can still be in the boonies of rural Vermont in less than a half hour. Despite summering just a half hour away for most of my life, I've only really experienced Burlington at all in the last couple of years. Awesome city.

While we were driving through part of the UVM campus on our way to downtown, I remarked to Meghan that someone who used to worship with North Street and worked for our shelter was now studying at UVM. Not fifteen minutes later, as we were walking around looking for a place to eat, Luke Taylor Cochran himself walked right in front of me. It was a great surprise and it was good to see him, if even only for five minutes. I count it another blessing from God that "in the midst of nowhere" I was reminded of our great church and why it is that we are away. Luke said he missed us greatly. We miss him too.

I asked Luke where we should eat and he recommended a place about twenty feet from where we were standing. He was right: Ri Ra's Irish Pub was excellent.

We met my Uncle Floyd Nease in the late afternoon to spend some time on his boat. He harbors at the Ladd's Landing Marina on Grand Isle. Part of the beauty and awe of Lake Champlain are the islands.

We'd been on Floyd's boat before, but yesterday was a blast. The kids got to "deep lake" fish, jump in to swim off the boat, we ate some great food, and sat in the middle of the lake watching early fireworks (it was July 3rd). With the sky being overcast, it made for a beautiful gray evening - a wonderful backdrop for colorful fireworks. Nature was not to be outdone as some heat-lightening displayed its power and color as well.

Though we can't be at the family camp like we used to be, I'm so grateful that my kids could spend these hours with Uncle Floyd. He played an important part of my childhood up here in Vermont. We don't see eye-to-eye on many things, but we share a whole lot of other important things in common. I've learned a lot from him about life: family, compassion, and working to ends for what one thinks is important. One of the things that I have learned from Floyd & my family as a whole is the ability to disagree on not-so-trivial things, but to be able to disagree in such a way that we are still totally loving with one another. Despite the absence of elements that many would require, I daresay it's a picture of how those who follow should be together.

...not to mention that Uncle Floyd is a whole lot of fun. As one of the kids said after: "Uncle Floyd is really nice and silly."

Indeed.

And incredibly loving and compassionate.

Being silly with Uncle Floyd.

Brayden caught a nice smallmouth (1.14 lbs). He did a great job getting in in the boat.

I had to add this picture. Out of nowhere the other day, three-year-old Brysen started doing this crazy funny dance that - as far as we can tell - he made up on his own. It's hilarious and this picture doesn't do it justice. He has become quite the jokester in the last several weeks.