I could've waited 'til the first.....

Today is the day.

Despite being laid low by a sudden onset of "the common cold" (which should be called "the common suck" because it does!) I had a great Sunday! We celebrated Communion and had an All-Saints Sunday worship gathering. So, rather than my usual job of telling the stories, I got to hear several! It reiterated to me the recen revelation that, in many ways, we followers of Christ are the Third Testament of the Bible. We are the living stories and examples, fluid and unbound from the chains of page and word. Every story I heard Sunday morning was worthy of a Sunday School lesson and I am grateful that God continues to speak to me through the people I supposedly lead.

We followed up this joy by hanging out at Detania and Kelly's place to celebrate the anticipated coming of Olivia Jewel Nix. She won't be here for a few months but we threw her a party anyway. There was food, fun, football, and a bouncy castle for the kids. Lot's of presents for Olivia and many relationships renewed, restored or just enjoyed. I talked to my friend Randy, who has been an African-American minister in a white church for a few years, about being black, because I think I would just be angry at everyone if I were black, my views on the desperate continuance of institutional racism are well known. He told me that it just wasn't worth wasting the energy by being angry and bitter. He's better than me at being Jesus in this area, so I listened and learned (I hope). It was a good day.

Capped the evening off by watching the Cowboys take down the Panthers with some of the guys from my church. Built some new relationships.

One of my friends decided to become a disciple of Jesus this last week. Pretty cool. His story not mine. Had a few solid visitors Sunday also.

Makin some changes....

This has been fun. My main writing blog, that is, my attempts to be literature, will no be on my livejournal blog listed to the right. This blog will contain very specific observations on the growing tradition of "Incarnational" living in Christ.

Rain

As I sit here this morning at Dominican Joe's, I can look out the front window and watch the rain fall down. The day is a slick silver gray with it's own rhythm and melody and I am thankful, as I should be, for the rain that we have needed for so long. It needs to continue, despite the disruption that it represents, it's been a long dry spell.

Thinking about the drought, I wonder what it takes to end one. How much rain is enough rain? How much do we need to restore us to a green spring, when the time is full for vernal awakening? Then I think about church; our church. What will make us grow? What kind of rain is needed to make us grow? Is it a question of rain? What do we need to do? What is God waiting for? Pray for rain.

Musings on Life Begun

So my wife and I are now reponsible for four lives brought into the world; four new springs that will water the world; four new roads that are as yet unmade, untravelled, uncharted. All of my children, including the new guy, were born into this world through blood and pain, screaming at the loss of comfort and security, begun in passion and with passion arriving. All of my children are very different from each other, with their own special light and life that marks them as indidvidual humans in a sea of humanity. And I am wondering, wondering........where did we go so wrong?

My children wake up every day in adventure and discovery mode and even when they feel the need for structure and home, as we all do, it's just so they can recharge their batteries and set off again. It's like living with Lewis and Clark, Magellan, Columbus, take your pick. Injury is a brief stop for a band-aid, (Anna thinks they are pretty!) Anger is fast, pure, and forgotten (MG screams like a panther!). Love is every moment of every day (Becket will hit you or hug you and it still means, 'I love you!'). They trust those they love (well, Gideon has no choice right now!).

Why do we let go of these traits? Why can't we recognize that children are books of information on how to live our lives? When did we forget who we were?

You know who my children really are?
Hermione Granger
Batman
Amelia Earhardt
and
Well, whoever Gideon is..........

Who is it that we were supposed to be that we left lying in a dress up box because we were too afraid, or too grown up, or too sensible?

W.C. Fields once said that anyone who hated dogs and kids couldn't be that bad......

W.C. Fields was a daft drunk.

Gideon's Call

was heard for the first time at 11:20 a.m. on August 14. I will try to post pix later this week.

Gideon Thomas Jones
7 lbs 4 oz
19 3/4 inches

God of the Spider House

It's hot today. I'm sitting outside of Spider House, waiting for a friend and thought I would share the moment with you, because it's a moment.

The courtyard at Spider House is unique. Tiled and full of old lawn furniture and picnic tables. There is statuary and greenery but everything is thrown together, like the place was designed by a garage sale artist. The the huge tree, (elm?) that stands sentinel over this area sports bamboo wind chimes and Christmas lights nonchalantly, as if they were his natural fruit. Just as the young student, finishing his breakfast and smoking his cigarette is reading Steinbeck, like it was as natural as the summer heat; like everyone reads Steinbeck.

There is an older guy close by with a long gray ponytail, scratching his way through the classifieds, obviously, despondently, seeking a few dollars of employment. There is a dog. Well, it is Austin!

There are lovers of various types, deeply involved in their own worlds. There are people just.....here.....waiting for something. And many humming computers with pilots flying them through work and waste. And there is one more thing.......

God is here.

In this jumbled mess of life and liberty; between the smiling lovers and the furrowed speakers; between the courtyard and the porch; between the porch and the caffeine altar. In all this beautiful, thrown together, beauty is God. He makes this space holy, and I find His holiness within this moment.

To my left is a bird bath with a broken statue in it. The statue used to be a ship's pilot, standing by the wheel of his vessel. Now the wheel is broken and the pilot's head is missing. So often does life make us feel this, that I have no direction, or vision, or even a head to turn and look and think. But here, in this holiness, he still stands tall, he remains a thing of beauty in this jumble, who stands with dignity, grasping the ruined wheel, saved by grace and waiting for full restoration. Yes, there is no doubt, God is here.

He creates and breaks and recreates. He rescues, redeems and restores. By His blood, he collects all of us broken, cast-off, castaways in the garden of His delight and makes us beautiful peoples, statues, trees, lights, lovers, searchers, readers, wasters, waiters, all of us.

This is a holy place if you can see it.

Spider House, cafe, bar, coffee house:

God is here.

Masked

The Stranger

Well we all have a face
That we hide away forever
And we take them out and
Show ourselves
When everyone has gone
Some are satin some are steel
Some are silk and some are leather
They're the faces of the strangerBut we love to try them on

Well we all fall in love
But we disregard the danger
Though we share so many secrets
There are some we never tell
Why were you so surprised
That you never saw the stranger
Did you ever let your lover see
The stranger in yourself?

So, I'm thinking I must have miscommunicated something the other day while I was preaching. I know what I did, my word choices led to a misunderstanding of the point I was trying to make. So let me put it another way.

People wear masks.

Sometimes we are forced to, most times it is a choice.

Some people put on the 'wise' mask or the 'smart' mask so people don't know what is really happening. Some people wear the 'introvert' or frankly, the 'extrovert' mask to hide their insecurities or self-loathing. Some folks choose 'holiness' as a mask to cover what they really are. Many of us pretend to be stoic and strong, many of us pretend to be weak. It just depends on the situation.

I'd like to believe that folks on their spiritual journey, especially followers of Jesus Christ, would be in the process of becoming more and more themselves, less concerned with the opinions and of the World around them (I don't mean in terms of holiness!), and more concerned with the wholeness of their walk; the desire to be the same person, inside and out. I think that's the best place to be. Most of the Jesus folk that I have the privilege of knowing are somewhere in that transition, thanks to the work of the Divine (the Holy Spirit in this case), but there is a catch, and that's where Sunday's sermon crossed with this topic.

The one requirement for spiritual growth is brokeness; admission of failure, admission of need, admission of wrong-doing. Our pretensions and protestations of our own holiness and self-sufficiency hold us back from real growth. We first come to Christ saying, "I can't make it on my own," and every step after that is based on a working knowledge of the adjustments (repentance) I need to make in my life to Jesus as our master, teacher, sensei.......Lord. Therefore, self-honesty is a cornerstone ethic of our walk. I don't mean to say that you look at yourself and just see how horrible you are, you also need to see the good that God is making you into, but there can be no ompromise or ignoring of the things in your life that need to change. In this case, I am specifically talking about the 'mask' of religion that many of us wear to hide where we are with Jesus. But the 'masks' of self-deceptive attitudes and beliefs must be thrown away.

Here's the bright sun shinging through. God will help you throw down falsehood and pretension, but it is He, not you, that enacts real change in you. So the drive should be towards surrender to God and allowing Him to speak His words into your heart, not towards behavior modification.

A Hand, Frozen to a Sword

I actually wrote this blog entry last year but the timing was wrong, as were my motives to publish it. Today, however, is the day. I will blog again this week but, feel free to type me to death.

Okay, here goes. Not sure about this one but, a little history lesson is in order.I was born the second time in June of 1976. I was nine years old. By the time I reached Junior High I had already been trained for 'evangelism,' that is, the spread of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I had attended adult classes in 'sharing' at my church because the kid classes were, well, too kiddish, (this problem would affect my later ministry in many ways.) So, I was ready to win converts. Interestingly enough, I never felt like it was something I was 'supposed' to do. I just knew that my friend Jesus needed more friends, and that I didn't want anyone to go to hell and be separated from Him. It never would have occured to me to save everyone, 'cause I didn't even know everyone, but somehow, God worked it into my pre-adolescent head that everyone I could bring to Him was one more rescued from life and death without Him.

Now, it probably should be stated here that I am not a gifted evangelist, I just loved Jesus and people and wanted them together, like a peanut butter/chocalate thing; and the truth is, I was turned down or rejected as many times. or more, than I was 'successful.' But some, over time, came to know Christ through my simple message of love and acceptance and despite my often sin-stained life.

During my not so epic journey through junior high, three different schools, I learned about, and became a sold-out geek for role-playing games in general and Dungeons and Dragons in specific. It expanded my community, increased my vocabulary and decision making ability and introduced me to a group of people that were as broken and needy as any I would ever meet. I had been involved in theatre since I was 6 or seven so I was already prepared for the bizarre group of people I would meet. Through this hobby, I was able to get to know and begin to lead these young men towards light and rescue. Here I am 25 years later to tell you that, of my two original gaming groups, all but a handful are now disciples of Christ. One of those is my foster brother Stephen, whom many of you know.This has been introduction to my point. It follows hard afoot now.

Sometime during high school, the word got out that Dungeons and Dragons was a tool of Satan.Boy, was I shocked.Upon further research I found that many of these accusers had no idea what gaming was about or, even worse, had told lies, outright lies, about what we practiced or what was found in our rulebooks. Hmm.

Now, I was raised in the outskirts of the 'sub-culture' we call the Christian ghetto, although my parents did keep a house decidely on the wall, so I had to figure out how it was that these 'believers' in Jesus would lie. Either money or fear, I figured out, and the damage was done. I learned that there was a form of Christianity that was more concerned with saving itself than others and I guess, after I recovered from the talespin of belief that I was in, sometime in college, I became first a dissident, and in recent years, a patriot for the cause of Christ and a reformed gospel doctrine.

My journey has been one of seeking to know Christ as Redeemer and a Friend of sinners; to understand that Holiness was about how I treated others as I proved out my love for God by loving them. My journey has been about washing the Bride and fighting fights to prove that people were worth far more than reputation; and that if I was accused of being a sinner because of my association with sinners that I was just becoming like Christ. In time, that journey has led me to this place and this time, The Well.

We are a great experiment born of a great hope and a passion for Christ, the Body and the lost. We are a try and try again project of learning failures and improvable successes. And we will find our way. But.....We will not lose sight of our goal to be different and better than where we came from.

We stand on the shoulders of sacrifice and conflict and try to reach higher and farther than we know we can on our own.We must love each other. We must learn that our differences are strengths, not fodder for warfare. We will have peace. We will be love. We will rescue, redeem and restore.

Like Eliezer, the mighty man of David, I have chosen this beanfield, and here I stand. I will swing the sword of the message that has been written into me, until my hand, frozen, no longer can relinquish it's grip.