The Much-Talked-About Green Tie

Here's a picture of the intricate handiwork of our good friend Dan. "If you're patient, good things come."

What does Love require?

A few hours ago, I changed my Facebook status. I know, big news - definitely worthy of a blog post. I posted one of those chain things, telling everyone who reads my status to post some memory that they have of us. My Uncle Mark posted a cool memory but then also messaged me another, somewhat less appropriate memory just for fun. It was very considerate of him not to post it where everyone could see, but since it makes a great beginning for what I want to talk about, I'm going to post it here where everyone can read it.

You were ~4 - you and I were up in Gramma's apartment. You went into the restroom. Now you were VERY intelligent, and therefore a bit precocious. You were in there an inordinant amount of time, so I thought that your mother ought to know if you were having difficulty, so when you came out, I asked you, "when you were in there, did you just empty out your bladder, or did you make a BM?" You informed that the latter was the case. I then asked you, "Was it runny?" "NO!" you vehemently informed me. I continued working at her small table, while you went over to play with toys in her living room. Not too much later, I felt a tug on my clothing. You looked up at me and said, "Uncle Mark, if, when you SAY, "runny"... (I felt that my use of words was being corrected) ...if you MEAN "JUIT-SEY," it WAS!"

This story is funny and a bit embarrassing, and it got me thinking about how often I corrected people as a child. It was a terrible habit. Whether or not I knew what I was talking about, I always felt the need to put in my two cents, to prove my wits or intelligence. I wish I could say that it was just something I did when I was really young, but the truth is it chased me all through high school and college, this need to prove myself, to be heard and respected - this need to be right.

The more I live and learn, the more I realize how little I actually know, and, even more, how little the little that I know actually matters. Knowledge is a wonderful thing; understanding even better. But Love is far superior to them both. I mourn when I think of all the times I have sacrificed Love in my quest to be right and to let the world know about it. It is a sad result of trying to find my identity in others, when God is longing to fulfill me with His love.

And He has been teaching me more and more over the past few years, in a variety of ways, to hold my tongue. He showed me the immense value of listening. I mean, when I really listen to people, a hold new world is opened up to me. I am able to see things and hear things that I never could when I was just thinking about how I was going to respond. And listening is itself a ministry, one of the most important. The truth is, everyone needs to be heard, to put themselves out into the world and find that someone cares enough to stop and listen. So I try to listen now, and most of the time I don't do a very good job. But sometimes I really hear people, their hearts, their hurts, their struggles and joys, and in those moments I am more fulfilled and secure in who I am in Christ than after any won argument or well-made point.

Randy, one my professors, taught a weekly chapel last year called "Living Out the Sermon on the Mount." We focused on some simple, practical ways to live out the radical way of Christ. I remember one day he challenged us with this goal for the week: "Speak only what Love requires." I won't say I succeeded by any means, but my conversations that week were transformed by the idea of submitting to Love in all things. I have made that my constant goal now, to speak only what love requires. Most of the time in means not talking, and occasionally it means speaking up with boldness when few would dare. Always it means loving people with my silence and my speech.

I'm so blessed to be in community with guys who live this out everyday, guys like Ben and Josh and Aaron. They care deeply about people, and it challenges me to see what they see and hear what they hear.

All that said, I still have a big mouth. I still often speak when love doesn't require that I say anything. I still speak out of selfish ambition numerous times everyday. I'm sure that some of you reading this have talked to me at some point and felt that I wasn't really listening. But God is doing a work in my heart. He is teaching me who I am in Him. He is teaching me to be still and rest in him, to be calm and completely fulfilled in him. He is teaching me to die to myself in the big ways and the small ways, in the conversations and the career plans. Praise be to God! Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew and right spirit within me.

Unlocked

Some neat things have been happening with the people of this community. During Summit, Ben spoke to a plethora of people generally unfamiliar with the New Monastic lifestyle. Ungodly amounts of people have been fed during lunches and dinners with simple meals affectionately referred to as Yam Slam, Speedy Gonzales, and the like. Professors and general contributing members of society have gathered around to speak and give on behalf of the work happening on Cockerell Dr. Excitement spreads with each new conversation. New ways of growing together fall out of our mouths every day. Chats with a neighborhood pastor lead to opportunities in which we join with him in digging deeper into the lives of these new friends. Unanticipated connections and acquaintances add to our intrinsic efforts. Doors to buildings once thought abandoned have begun to unlock.

But its not all fun and games. Forgive me for the sober face tonight but a new understanding of brokenness steals at my jovial, self-sufficient ministry face. This morning as I strode bountifully out the house door on my way to Ben's much anticipated lecture, something lacked. The chill of fall air anticipated my emotion and dried my eyes before I had time to whimper at the sight of a drooping bicycle lock. As though saddened by the loss of a long time companion, the lock lay draped lifeless over the frigid link of gray, weathered fence. I think I saw a tear drop as it shivered in the isolating wind. I approached only to comfort the foggy-eyed fastener and ask, "What happened?" only to receive back a mumbled, sniffling whisper lost in the breeze. The night had witnessed it all. Alas, without words I noticed my once secure friend had been abused and broken. The sight shouted louder than words. The best consolation I could muster up sounded like "It'll be okay... shh, shh. It'll be okay," as we shuffled back inside the house.

Though the bicycle had been wooed away by another lover, I understood that this would not be the only time our hearts will be broken on this journey down Cockerell Dr. It is not the lack of its presence I pine for, but instead the forgotten forgiveness that, I lament, cannot now be poured out. I would like to meet this Casanova if only to wish them well together, and perhaps pass along the gift of a hearty lock to keep her safe. Seriously.

I can deal with a lack of bicycle. Its a material possession; who cares. What I found more disconcerting was my feeling of personal violation. My privacy had been infringed upon, and it scared me. Though I must admit my giddiness has transformed into reverence and reality. It revealed to me how our time here will not be all encouraging stories. Sometimes we will be hurt. This occasion exemplifies, even in its frivolity, that we will not always have good met with open hearts. We will pour out only to be taken advantage of. If that's what it takes, let us be exploited as we scourged and spat on the Lord himself.

May they see the love He has in our forgiveness whether we are allowed the opportunity to offer it or not. May the doors to the Kingdom be unlocked that we may eat with thieves and vagabonds, prostitutes and proselytes, poor and prosperous alike.

A Green Tie Affair

There’s no such thing as a normal dinner at the house on Cockerell Dr. The thing about having an open door is that anyone can walk in; and when you’ve been praying that they will, they often do.

So let me set the scene for you. At the head of the table is Dan, a homeless guy who has been living under the I-20 bridge. At the foot of the table is Randy, a college professor. On the sides of the table are four kids who don’t know what they’re doing (that’s us) but have been praying to a God who definitely does. Already the testimonies of what God has done represented at that table were enormous.

First there is the incredible way that God brought the four of us together, which is another story for another time. Let it suffice to say that though none of us were sure exactly what we were looking for, we knew we had found it when, about a year ago, God began to bring together what is now the Allelon community. Then he provided Randy to walk with us and share in what God is doing in us. Like I said, we are a bunch of kids that don’t know what we’re doing, but God is watching out for us. He knew we needed someone older and wiser to walk with us along this road.

Then there is the testimony of how God brought Dan to our table. Earlier that day, Josh was praying that God would lead him to His treasure. You can read a more complete account of that treasure hunt here, but basically God led him to Dan. Josh offered to give Dan the money that he had on him, but Dan refused. Instead, Dan pulled out a dollar bill – this was about 10% of his life savings at the time – and made a dollar-bill bow tie, which he gave to Josh. Josh figures this was about the most expensive gift he had ever received. Anyways, Josh invited him to dinner, and we picked him up at about six o’clock.

As Randy and I finished up with the cooking, Aaron, Josh, and Ben were visiting with Dan. Dan insisted on making another dollar bill bowtie, which we gratefully accepted. It now sits on the marker holder of our prayer request board, a reminder to pray for Dan and for generous hearts.

Dinner was cooked, and there we were, sitting around a skillet of stir-fry and a bowl of rice. As we were serving up, Dan was sharing a funny experience he had while hitchhiking. At the same time, he was loading up his plate of stir-fry with a hot siracha sauce. By the end of the meal, we would all be enjoying a laugh with Dan as sweat poured from his face. He said, over and over, “That shit is mean right there. Fo’ shore. I swear it is. That ain’t for no boy. That stuff is real mean.”

Anyone who has been homeless will tell you that one of the hardest things about it for a lot of people is having no one to talk to you. People pass by with averted gaze, or worse with a look of disgust. Others are eager to talk or preach, but uninterested in listening.

As Dan sat at the head of our table, stroking his epic beard and wiping siracha-induced perspiration from his brow, the one gift we had to give was our ears. The funny thing is, we were considerably more blessed by the stories Dan shared with us than he could ever be by our food or money. He needed someone to listen, and we needed to hear his stories and see his smile. I guess it could be said that in some way, we were made for Dan and he for us. Of course the truth is we are all made for each other, and the key to life is finding out how we fit together with the Lord as our center and guide.

I would have been content with that guest list, already in awe of the ways that God works; but God was throwing this party, and other invitations had been sent out long before we even knew each other or moved into Allelon house.

The Saturday before, Josh had been having coffee with Kyle when the phone rang. The number was listed as Withheld, and at first Josh wasn’t going to answer it; but then he looked up at Kyle, and they both felt like he was supposed to answer the phone. On the other end of the line was Matt. He was trying to reach someone named James. Josh said he didn’t know anyone by that name and that Matt must have the wrong number. Then, in a moment of divine inspiration, he asked Matt, “Would you like to get coffee with me sometime?”

At first, Matt’s response was exactly what you would expect. “Who are you?” After all, it isn’t every day that a wrong number asks you to coffee. But after a moment, Matt agreed to meet up with Josh sometime. They were going to grab lunch on Monday, but something came up. So, instead, Josh asked him to dinner at the house.

When Matt showed up to the bizarre scene that evening, it was like he was coming home. That night, for that meal, that table was God’s table, so Matt really was coming to the table of his Father. He walked in, and it was like God had brought him there to share his testimony. Even before getting food, he launched into an incredible account of God’s love and faithfulness. It involved everything from drug addiction to being chased by the Mexican Mafia. All the time, God was pursuing Matt. Finally, when Matt was at his lowest point, in a rehab facility in San Angelo, God revealed himself to Matt in a vision. That day, he received Christ as his savior. Now he is working to start a non-profit in Abilene to help people recovering from all sorts of addictions.

It would be impossible to share all the ways that God poured out His love on us that evening. It was a green-tie affair – where the currency of the empire was made into silly bowties and the currency of the Kingdom was dealt out in abundance. The Spirit of the Lord was thick in that room, filling our hearts with love and awe at the power of our God. There was a lot of laughter, and a lot of encouragement. Relationships were built that none of us could ever have imagined. Most of all, God showed again just how faithful He is to pour out His spirit on those who seek His face.

I remember sitting at that retro, green table, with the evening sun streaming in through the blinds, and thinking to myself that I was having true communion for the first time in my life.

shared with me from a friend

i liked reading this

http://www.yesmagazine.org/community/handmade-homemade-community?utm_source=aug09&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=12_tnCommunity

Partiality

I might as well as been punched in the nose. As I read the Good Book this morning, I came across this:

Do not pervert justice; do not show partiality to the poor or favoritism to the great, but judge your neighbor fairly.
- Lev. 19:15

What? I reread it. And then one more time just to be sure. But sure enough, it was a rebuke directed at my heart. I generally do not have any problems showing favoritism to the great or rich, but it has become my default to show partiality to the poor.

At first it was difficult to marry this passage with others like Luke 6:20, "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God," or Isaiah 58:6 "loose the chains of injustice and [...] set the oppressed free." But I am still meditating and trust that when the situation presents itself, this pericope will sound.

I imagine, if it were in a gospel retelling, it would sound something like this:

"The pharisees and scribes, in their attempt to trap him, asked Jesus a question. "Teacher," they said (because they always wanted to appear respectful), "Moses instructed us 'eye for eye, and tooth for tooth' but we know you taught us a few chapters ago to turn the other cheek. If a man steals a sheep and gets away, then he steals from another and gets away again, when he steals and is caught should the captor let him go and turn the other cheek, or turn him over to the authorities that he may learn his lesson? For if he steals from another, the man who let him go did not show his love for his neighbor. And if the man turns him over to the authorities, will the theif not be put into a corrupt and abusive cycle likely to perpetuate the cycle of crime? How can love be shown to this man?

Jesus replied, "The man must not be shown partiality [insert reference letter for Lev. 19:15], but also, as I will instruct you in Matthew 25:36, you should visit this man in prison. Not to mock him, but instead bring him food and befriend him that he may know constant, eternal love and repent and turn to my father in heaven."

The pharisees and scribes were amazed at his answer and returned to their mansions to contemplate ways to ruin him.

I don't know. I'm not trying to put words in Jesus' mouth, but the reality of injustice, theft and compromising moral situations find us everyday in our neighborhoods. What do you think?

Cultures Collide

Not long ago, several of us plopped down at a table to share a meal together. This is nothing unusual for we often cook and share meals together, though some of us who lack culinary capabilities sit and watch and provide moral support; I'm quickly placed on stirring duty. And as is typical, conversation thrives especially regarding social issues and dreams of better lives for our neighbors. The discussion on this particular day struck me as unique (again, not unusual). Racial discrimination.

Some of us live in racially diverse areas, some work on racially diverse job sites. Some of us work one part of our job in diversity and the other chunk in ethnocentricity. Some of us live in places full of uniformity... where we provide the diversity, just to clarify - whites in a black neighborhood. So the conversation of skin color yoked us together.

As we were chatting, someone divulged their conversation with an black friend who informed her of the subtle differences our skin color affords each of us. Where I, a white guy, may be able to wander the city streets naked without a second thought, this black woman cannot enter a grocery store in sweats without being assumed, spoken to, and treated as a recipient of welfare or food stamps, regardless of income or social status. Her testimony exposes the ignorance of the upper classes. "It is essential for black people to chose their attire intelligently everywhere everyday," quoted my friend (something to that effect).

So when I was invited to join some of our black neighbors this week to accompany them to a court hearing, I walked into a new culture. I've spent plenty of time as a minority and the plenty of time around other ethnicities. I'm not terribly uncomfortable away from people like me; in fact I generally prefer it. But this was a culture I had yet to willing walk into. I loved it. The whole day taught me about patience, reminded me of my inadequacy, and excited me to know and love people where they are (and hopefully they'll be so kind to do the same for me).

I, like my new friends, have been ultimately shaped by our respective cultures. Where my education system taught me how to write checks, prepare a resume, and work hard to provide for myself and family in a coherent, structured, systematic organization, my friends' and neighbors' education system has encouraged them to live for the moment, fulfill the now, and survive in an urban jungle of chaos. At the end of the day, I realized how different our means may be, but eerily similar our goals coincide. Cultures clash but dreams do not differ.

Under the Overpass

Why put value in golden shimmer

And lack luster sparkles of porcelain silver

To what does wealth apply 

What cost is this greatest lie

That treasure is found in things

Maximized in subsidized financial gains

Brought from the diamond mines

Served with the lustful wines   

Wrought by unthinking hands

That do not proceed from the heart

Awake oh sleeper 

And the light of Christ will shine on you

Treasure is more than money, and money is what you make of it. At least that's what I learned from a good friend. I woke up on Monday and wanted more, but more is an interesting idea. I didn't want more things and I didn't want more time, not necessarily. So that kind of eliminated the American dream from my list. What I wanted, what I felt and yearned for was... well, life. I wanted treasure, like the kind that Jesus talks about in his parables. The kind that is hidden in a field and you sell everything you have just to buy that field.

I had herd about something a group of Christians are doing in Clyde the other week and it really intrigued me. They call it Treasure Hunts. Every weekend a group of believers from Kingdom Life Fellowship get together and pray. They ask the lord to show them his treasure. After they pray and meditate they start to write things down that come to mind. Like blue hat, or subway, or broken arm. Then they head out, find the person, pray for them, and give the glory to God. 

When I woke up our community had a time of prayer and I pressed in asking in my heart: "Lord why not have a treasure hunt here in Abilene right now?" As we left the house i felt pulled to the parking lot of the near by United store. I turned off the car and sat for a moment in the muggy stale air. The discomfort shrugged off as I pressed in once more. I sat and waited. After a while I began to think about the homeless people I see standing at the corner by Walmart. You know, the one with the signs that say homeless need money for food. Homeless people are my passion, at least that's what I'm coming to know in my heart, but its hard some times to know what's best with the cardboard sign holders. So often they ask for something and use it for something else, but maybe that's just my hard heart. The more I thought about it though the more I wanted to get out of the car.

Finally I decided I would walk over to Walmart. Why walk? I'm not sure I know the answer. I like walking better most times, but it just seemed like I should take my time getting there. You never know if you're going to miss something. There is a certain quality intrinsic in the little things around us, most of which whisk by faster than the eye can catch. The insulated bubble of car travel can shelter you from life little gifts. So I attempted to remain patient. It wasn't a short walk by any means, and the day continued to grow hotter as I went. When I reached the Overpass by I-20 I began to cross the street. Coming to the median an old man walked out in front of me. It was kind of startling for a moment because he wasn't there a split second before. I guess he came from behind the bridge support lingering to my left. Once I saw him I was compelled to follow. I don't know why, I just was. He crossed the street through the busy traffic and I followed. Some times crossing a major intersection can be like real life Frogger but if you've ever seen a homeless person navigate there is a strange and daring mix of fearlessness combined with excellent timing that seem to be an art. This was certainly the case with the old man in front of me.

A busy gas station lay ahead of us and he made straight for the bath room. I decided not to be a creeper so I looked around for some shade. A large air pump carved out a place in the curb next to me and delivered just enough canopy to sit under. As I sat I felt the soft touch of communication come silently over my heart. It said "wait." In fact I felt like I needed to wait ten minutes. After a while the man came out of the rest room and went in to buy a beer. When he came out I expected him to see me and say something, most homeless people seem to do that with me. To my extreme surprise he didn't look at me and he didn't say a word. In fact I got up almost as if to great him and then watched intently as he walked across the street and disappeared amidst the traffic. Honestly I grew a little impatient waiting on the lord's treasure. If it wasn't this homeless man, or I don't know maybe I just missed my chance. Actually the thought of that made me feel worse. I remembered the feeling that I should wait another couple minutes. So I did.

Not long after a family pulled up to get their fill of gasoline. The husband was yelling and the wife was biting her lip. I felt sad and began to pray for them. They left just as the ten minutes passed. It was only hours later that I would see this couple again, living in the house across the street from our friend Zelma. No doubt I should be in prayer for them. With the ten minutes past I got up and stilled my mind for a second. Suddenly I felt a strong sense that some one the Cracker Barrel across the parking lot needed encouragement. When I went in there I saw a cashier wearing a pretty somber face. I knew it was the one, but I wimped out because she came right next to me after I came in. Now I was losing patience with my self completely. Walking over to Walmart I wanted to check out the lost and found section. My wallet had been missing for a few days. The irony only strikes me now, that I looked for my wallet on the treasure hunt. It doesn't matter either way because I didn't find it. I will say this however: be nice to the customer service people, very few are and yet they seem to keep up a good bit of patience.

Ambling out of Wally World I found myself facing the overpass once more. This time I could see, at just the right angle to catch the glimpse of a backpack. It was resting behind the bridge's pillar on the right side. 

"The name's Dan" He said. He hates to stay in one place for too long, has everything he needs, and doesn't need much. All I had was a dime so I said he could have it, if it would help. He refused and reached into his pocket for a dollar bill. He looked at me with a wry smile, like the years of his life and experience were towering down on me. He said, "I'll make you a dollar bill Bowtie. Curiously I watched as he folded the bill over and back, out and in. His crusted worn hands seemed to touch the paper with such grace and care. Ten minuets passed and still he continued to fold the unending dollar bill. As the time passed we looked up at each other and began to laugh. "Takes a long time don't it?" he said "It does." I replied. "With patience good things come." he said.

Dan is a good friend. He's very wise and he taught me that the lord's treasure is us.... his children.

Welcome! to Something More

Let me be the first to welcome you to Something More. Gathered here are a collection of friends' raw thoughts, experiences, and adventures as we seek the incarnation of the Kingdom of God in Abilene, Texas.

The web address of this journal contains a certain significance. Stolen from a book by Robert Lupton entitled Theirs Is the Kingdom: Celebrating the Gospel in Urban America, who stole it from Jesus' Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5, we hope that as we befriend and become the poor in spirit we will also encounter the kingdom of heaven. And as we are persecuted for the righteousness, we will embody the kingdom of heaven. It is our poor and oppressed neighbors to whom belongs the kingdom of heaven. We want to learn from them, walk with them, share life with them.

We don't know what is going to happen. We don't know what God will do. We don't know if its even safe to be in the houses we've stumbled upon, or even if its safe to seek God's will (see Paul's testimony in 2 Corinthians 11). But we do know this: God has called his people to love their neighbors and provide the poor wanderer with shelter, feed the hungry and clothe the naked. We will be inviting strangers into our homes. We will obey his word.

Some of us are timid. Some of us are gung-ho*. Some of us are just straight scared. But all of us are trusting the Lord will provide, protect, and persevere. We believe that God has something more than average planned for us. We believe that He has something more than brokenness we all experience all too often. We believe there is something more to this life than getting up, working, coming home, watching tv/ ignoring our families and friends, going to bed, and doing it all over again. We will not be satisfied with the pleasures of this world. We crave Something More.

We want to keep you readers informed so that you can pray for our new friends and us, ask meaningful questions about what is happening in our lives, and be encouraged - maybe even to move into something more where you live. We anticipate difficult times of emotional drain and physical need. We aren't asking for handouts but if you have gifting or way you can help, may the Lord bless you as you give of yourself. We know our dreams are too big, but our God is bigger than our dreams.

So stay tuned for stories, tales, tribulations, satires, eases and challenges, ups and downs, bumps and bruises, and perhaps a parable or two of our lives as we attempt to commune with each other and the poor, beautiful, unique neighbors we have sought to be surrounded by.


*Please note translation of this word.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gung-ho