A few weeks ago I grabbed lunch with a friend at Red Robin. Munching on Buffalo Chicken Strips we were talking about the churches that we were serving at, and about where the Lord is leading in those place. Community is the word that came up. God has me (and some leadership of our church) parked on that, and what it looks like in discipleship. My friend then mentioned another conversation that he had where the person shared his dislike of the word community: arguing that it is a buzzword, and not found in the New Testament. While "community" is mentioned once in Acts, depending on your translation, the word 'family [of believers]' appears a lot. I'm finding that semantics aside, one of the biggest issues is sociological. Moving past our largely cold -climate culture (task oriented with social customs to close us off to others), to becoming more hot -climate (relationship oriented with social customs embracing inclusiveness of others) (Lanier, 2001). We may call it community in our culture. A more hot -climate culture may call it family. The point is that it moves past the basic protocols of our society and welcomes others into a Kingdom of inclusiveness, of being dangerous for that Kingdom (reaching out to the poor, oppressed and outcast), and we learn how to share life together. It's not just making a new category of friends to fit in a compartmentalized life, but breaking down and shattering barriers that we've set up to keep us 'safe' (or, rather, separate) from the needs of others.

Jean Vanier (1979) wrote:

A community which is just an explosion of heroism is not a true community. True community implies a way of life, a way of living and seeing reality; it implies above all fidelity in the daily round. And this is made up of simple things - getting meals, using and washing the dishes and using them again, going to meetings  - as well as gift, joy and celebration; and it is made up of forgiving seventy times seventy-seven. 

A community is only being created when its members accept that they are not going to achieve great things, that they are not going to be heroes, but simply live each day with new hope, like children, in wonderment as the sun rises and in thanksgiving as it sets. Community is only being created when they have recognised that the greatness of humanity lies in the acceptance of our insignificance, our human condition and our earth, and to thank God for having put in a finite body the seeds of eternity which are visible in small and daily gestures of love and forgiveness. The beauty of people is in this fidelity to the wonder of each day (p. 109).

The Lord, in His goodness, has put a hunger in me for the Body of Christ to truly be a family of Believers (or community...regardless of the word's buzzyness to some). From as early as I surrendered my life to Christ (the first time), to every surrender (mostly each day) since, 'community' has been an underlying conviction foundational to my life. I've failed at it numerous times, but Holy Spirit has been graciously persistent in bringing me back to it. I'm learning how to be a family member, and I hope that in my places of leadership within the Body, I'll be able to help establish a Kingdom culture of community/family.

Reference:
Lanier, S. A. (2001). “Foreign to Familiar: A Guide to Understanding Hot- and Cold-Climate Cultures.” Hagerstown, MD: McDougal Publishing

Today is Christmas Eve, and below I am posting a video containing one of the Christmas songs that I've written over the years. However, I use the word "Christmas" gently, lightheartedly and passionately all at once.

Gently, because yes, I know the arguments behind the calendar days on which Christmas and Easter holidays occur as having pagan roots, I know the realistic theological and historical argument that Jesus was not born on December 25th. I use it gently because I don't want to come across as one who thinks that December 25th by its very nature is a magically holy day. It is a normal day that has been made holy, by the intentional and cultural meditation on the incarnation. Some people slam Christmas trees, but people through history, St. Boniface and Martin Luther included, used them as spiritual illustrations pointing to Christ. The nativity? St. Francis wanted to people to taste, feel, and smell what it must have been like to experience that special night of Christ's birth. (My friend Ben wrote about it well on his blog) And even me, I look at the materialism that surrounds Christmas and often have a heavy heart, yet I choose to use this day as an excuse to speak of the incarnation on a day that, culturally, some are more open to hearing about it. That is reflected in my song. If it ends with presents and a tree then we've missed it, but if we use it as an opportunity to speak out when the rest of the world may have ears to hear, I say, "Yes! Merry Christmas!"

This time is lighthearted for me too, because there are warm memories attached to Christmas. Yes, I'm not calloused to peppermint mochas, or spicy mochas (thank you Caribou Coffee), decorating a tree with ornaments of years gone by, and watching silly Christmas movies. Christmas is a lighthearted time for me, because there is so much heaviness in the world (and in my brain), that sometimes I have to not take life so seriously, otherwise I miss the little joys that are waiting behind every corner.

Lastly, this time of the year is something that I'm passionate about, because the reality is: just like the argument that the seasonal celebration of day on which we celebrate Christmas has pagan roots, the reality is so do we. Christ died for us when we were not just sinners, but when we were the very enemies of Him (Romans 5). So, let's use any opportunity to meditate on the incarnation: the master plan of redemption set forth by our Creator. And let's speak out about it, let's share the awesome story of God becoming man, and relay the significance of that to a world that definitely needs life/hope/mercy.

Great are You, O Lord, and exceedingly worthy of praise; Your power is immense, and Your wisdom beyond reckoning. And so we men, who are a due part of your creation, long to praise You – we also carry our mortality about with us, carry the evidence of our sin and with it the proof that You thwart the proud. You arouse us so that praising You may bring us joy, because You have made us and drawn us to Yourself, and our heart is unquiet until it rests in You (Confessions of St. Augustine, Book 1, Chapter 1).

This morning about 5:30 my baby girl awoke hungry, and since the past couple of days she's been fighting a fever possibly due to a slight ear infection, my wife and I both ran to her side. After she was satiated (more or less), I decided to get up, throw a pot of coffee on, and have some time in the Lord's presence. As I meditated on Scripture (Psalm 46), I remembered Augustine's words that "our hearts are restless (unquiet) until they rest in You." Like a baby who will not be satisfied in any other way than its mother's milk, so our souls are actually designed to hunger and thrive for God. All else will fall short. "Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify You. I will praise You as long as I live, and in Your name I will lift up my hands. I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise You" (Psalm 63:3-5).

"Father, forgive us for looking for satisfaction in anything other than You. Let our lives put on display our hunger for You...that the world would see You in us. This Advent awaken a hunger in Your Bride, Your people, a hunger that cannot be quenched by the fleetingness of this plastic world, and release an undying desire in Her heart to proclaim You and Your love and mercy. Amen."

So, the twelfth stone on top of this Joshua 4 monument is a person, and that person is my wife. The last season on life and ministry would not have been what it was, and is, without her. I've learned so much about love and courage from her.

I remember being a twenty-something mountain boy, staring up at the stars, contemplating that the starry sky, so unfathomable and huge, full of granduer, mystery, and stillness, was a similar display to the starry show that Abraham watched as G-d said, "Count them if you can...so shall your offspring be" (paraphrased Gen 15:5). And to think that (as the Rich Mullins song put it), "one star he saw had been lit for me," as well as for the person whom I would meet and marry.  The seeming impossiblity that two random stars in a sea of space would somehow meet, often seemed to be wishful thinking at best. But as I followed the Lord on crazy adventures (California, Mexico, Texas, Washington, Hawaii, Tennessee, Florida, then to Georgia), I realized that I didn't need to worry. In one conversation with my friend Ted, I blurted out (in a moment of revelatory wisdom), "I don't need to look for her [my wife], she's not lost. She's right where I am, in the palm of His [God's] hand." And that is how the whole thing worked itself out. When I finally came to the end of myself (and trying to make things work my way), it's as if God said, "now that you're done, check this out." And in the wilderness of a prayer room, with all props of familiarity pulled out from under me, I noticed a beautiful voice (with a beautiful face) singing on the worship team...and getting to know her more, I fell in love with her beautiful heart.

Fast-forward three years, we moved to Arizona to work in Whiteriver, AZ, where we learned to cling to each other. The next year (2009) was a year of tears: through miscarriages and a still-birth of our baby boy. Such pain, but I learned from my wife that courage is sometimes just showing up and not giving up. As C.S. Lewis wrote, "Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point." So with my wife, I learned the persistence of hope, as we came to welcome our daughter Sarah Clare into the world.

Now we are in a new season. It is official now, since I finally finished my Josh 4 monument (sheesh, took long enough :-) The Lord is doing so much, but one thing that I expect will continue is that I'll learn more about myself, my wife, and God. During our engagement, one Scripture that my wife and I identified with was the story of Jonathan and his armor bearer (1 Samuel 14) - in that, we felt that we are both made for adventure, and we choose to stand with each other in battle. Well, one may romanticize the battlefield with glorious bravery against all odds, but the grit and tragedy is often not recognized. It is my honor, however, that as I look back on the past 5 1/2 years, the battle that I've pushed through, swung my sword through, grunted through, and cried through, I did it all with the most valiant warrior by my side. She is my bride. She is made for adventure. She is courageous. And it is my honor to be her husband.

Who am I? Sounds like a loaded question. And depending on the day you might get a different answer. Yes, I am Joel. I want to be more Jesus than me. But usually I'm me. I used to think that my 20's were all about figuring who I am. Mostly, I found out who I'm not. Sometimes it was positive, sometimes it was not. I learned that I fell short of my ideals 98% of the time, during the other 2% I was just confused. Blessedly clueless. My eleventh stone in my Josh 4 monument is not that I figured out who I am. I've given up on that one. In my efforts to serve others and love others [stay tuned for stone 12], I've learned a lot about personality types. Golden retrievers, otters, lions, introverts, extroverts, performance introverts, etc. Through it I've found what I'm like, which is giving me insight into who I am. This has helped me to learn what other people are like too, but the most important thing that it has taught me is that there is a difference between learning what a person is like and who they are. That takes time and care. I guess on top of studying societies, I've become a studier of people. An anthropologist of sorts. I have much to learn, but I'm learning to learn. The last stone is the capstone of this monument...so it's a big one.

I'm finally getting settled (more or less) in the northern life of MN. That is, I'm getting a routine somewhat established to make life feel less like chaos and more like we (our family) is heading in an intentional direction. Sure, already, there are many things that I'm excited about, but before I go there, I must finish stacking stones. I realize that I've only stack 9 of 12, and I haven't neglected the task, but I've been meditating on it pretty regularly.

Stone number 10 of the Arizona season of my life has been the scholarly, introspective & contemplative effort that I put into praying, learning, and understanding poverty. Finishing my degree in sociology was a large tool for this. I learned much. I've understood more, how sin not only effects the individual (me), but individuals (my neighbor), and, in effect, every social system on the planet. I understand more that poverty and inequality in social systems are really (in the ultimate root cause analysis) the result of a broken relationship with God, and broken relationships with each other. I learned that while poverty has many common symptoms, the causes vary, and commonly contain unique stories of injustice: some blatantly atrocious, and some inconspicuously devilish.

CLICK HERE for the position paper that I wrote during this time for the ministry that I worked with.

So, #10 is poverty: what I learned about it in society, in humanity, and in myself.

Today I've been sitting outside quite a bit (praying, working on my computer, thinking, etc), and I decided that one 'stone' in my Josh 4 memorial is nature. Not just generalized - nature as a concept - nature, but those moments when I get to commune with God. God often speaks to me through nature...not like a 'being one with nature kind of way,' but rather, nature being a sanctuary where my heart and mind can be still, and where I can pause and experience a 'come Lord Jesus' moment (being one with my Creator). God speaks loudly to me in the quiet (which may be paradoxical when put like that), that is, He speaks powerfully in the quiet of nature. Like now, when the soil of life seems to be up-tilled, I sit and hear the wind blowing through the trees, the sound of the leaves creating soothing choruses, while I find rest as creation seems to remind me that the Creator is in control. Or like the pause that gazing at the Milky Way gives me as I breathe in the cool mountain air. It never fails to take my breath away, while it whispers the mighty power of the One Whom I follow. Sometimes it's the Lord's voice that I hear, saying: "I see your heart, I hear your voice, I love you..." In those moments it's not just about noticing the impact of the moment, but the realization that I am noticed...by the most important One: the One who made me, Who desires me, and Who has called me to lose myself in the experience of knowing Him.

"O God, I have tasted Thy goodness, and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more. I am painfully conscious of my need for further grace. I am ashamed of my lack of desire. O God, the Triune God, I want to want Thee; I long to be filled with longing; I thirst to be made more thirsty still. Show me Thy glory, I pray Thee, so that I may know Thee indeed. Begin in mercy a new work of love within me. Say to my soul, ‘Rise up my love, my fair one, and come away.’ Then give me grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty lowland where I have wandered so long."
— A.W. Tozer

Another experience saturated by the presence of God, and the landmark of what He's done in my life in this past season, has been the birth of my daughter Sarah Clare. Now, as I mentioned in the previous post, we often have a misconception regarding 'redemption' in the western culture. To be more specific, the redemption of God. Redemption is not making up for bad stuff by doing enough good things to compensate for the bad; rather, I am learning that God takes the most tragic circumstances and uses it, and turns it around for good. It is not a waste, but a medium in His redemptive creativity. Like a painter it is a brush stroke in the grand picture of His love and His glory - as illustrated in the lives of those He loves. I realize that from a western mindset, this runs the danger of casting the concept of a sadistic God, but this is not the case. There are things to consider: original sin, the problem of evil, and a God sovereign enough (and with a love strong enough) to give us choice and a will. In the end, Ecclesiastes 3:11 saying, "He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, He has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end," summarizes the deep truth that we are so small - but have been made for something so great. Even the 'ugly' is made beautiful, and God has created us for eternity yet at the same time our perspectives are so finite that we have trouble seeing past our momentary discomforting 'ugly' situations to see the larger beautiful tapestry that is being woven. So, in essence, the stones (lessons) pulled from this season's riverbed regarding this happenstance are:

1. God is good (period). When tragedy strikes God is good (not in a pop-Christian culture-'God is good all the time, all the time God is good' kind of way, but in a real enduring kind of way).
2. When we trust Him, and abandon to Him...when He is our plan A and B...when He is the Lord Whom we look to and say "Where else could I go?" He is faithful to take the ugly, the ashes, and broken pieces, and make them beautiful.
3. It seems that God is very interested is giving life abundantly (resurrection), but in His wisdom lets us experience the incubators for life abundantly (Gethsemane, crucifixion, and the grave). We must not rush past the tragedy, but hope through the tragedies.

Probably the biggest stones in my memorial of this season, are related to the loss that we experienced in 2009 with the death of our baby boy Elijah. The documentation of this journey can be followed in the following posts:

An Artist and Lover of God's Take on Grief
Courage
Picking Up the Pieces
Regarding Elijah

Instead of reiterating the journey and the emotions involved, here's what I learned, and they'll be stones in this Josh 4 memorial.

1. It's OK to grieve, cry, and be broken. The grieving process takes...time. You don't just get over holding your lifeless baby in your arms. While people don't understand, as a father it shapes you, it changes you, makes you see life different, and if you hold onto God and your wife through the process, you commune with them both on a level that is indescribable.
2. It teaches you how to set boundaries. Well meaning people offered words that they intended for encouragement, some people we didn't know offered to pray without knowing our story or knowing us...and some just said some stupid things. Part of being a warrior for my family is learning how to set boundaries, be firm in interaction with others, and be assertive spiritually and emotionally. It's OK to say 'no.' Our healing came through people that we know closely 'being Jesus' to us.
3. Jesus really does redeem our brokenness. This is a fact and not just optimism. While I'll go into this further in the next post, the redemption is not just compensating for a broken situation, but it's making the broken piece beautiful. BLESSED are the poor, BLESSED are those who mourn (i.e. Matt 5)...as if to say, 'Blessed are the broken...' This sentiment is upside down from our society, but I'm finding it's right side up for the Kingdom of God.
4. Suffering is OK. Jesus told us we would have trouble, but assured us that His peace would be with us, and that He has overcome the world (Matt 16). One thing I learned in this season is that the Western Church often does not understand suffering. We come up with doctrines to try to escape suffering, resulting in some sort of distortion that implies: 'if you have strong faith, you won't have trials;' however, from what I can see, according to the Word, we won't have strong faith unless we encounter and endure trials.

A primary factor in our time on the Fort Apache reservation, that is monumental in memory of how the Lord has worked, is something that I learned in the quiet place (IHOP-Atlanta was instrumental in this reality). God desires me. This changes everything. Strangely enough, the sentiment that God loves me doesn’t do the same thing to my heart. As Rich Mullins once said, “I grew up hearing everyone tell me 'God loves you'. I would say big deal, God loves everybody. That don't make me special! That just proves that God ain't got no taste.” God is love, if God didn’t love me, He’d be acting contrary to Who He is right? Maybe it’s the way that our society today throws the word “love” around (seemingly carelessly), that God loving us (even perfectly) doesn't seem to be that great of a feat. But the idea that God desires me, that He likes me (so much that He plans to purge me of my sin), and is intimately involved in my life…that changes everything. It’s a whole new dimension of love: there’s outward emotion attached to it; it’s not just a theory. It makes it so my effort is put into understanding Him more, learning about Him and His love for me, and receiving that love, instead of trying to work harder to earn it. When I screw up, I don’t have to stay away out of fear and shame, but I can go back into His presence as a child, and He holds me in His loving Father arms. When I don’t spend time in the quiet place, I am not driven back to the quiet place out of guilt, but instead out of longing to be in His presence again. “O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water” (Psalm 63:1).

So much has happened in our season of working on the reservation: tragedy, joys, victories, and defeats. One thing remains, however. We hunger for the living God, who, not just loves us, but desires for us to partner with His heart. This reality is what got us through our personal losses, aggravating moments, and hopes for the future. It’s a foundational stone in our Josh 4 monument. We’ll look back at these three years, not as a reluctant recollection, but as worshipful season, where we were crushed, purified, and challenged, but came out the other side more in love with God and each other.