what would paul do?

Okay, I know, I know. It creeps me out too. But it's difficult to overlook Paul in the roll call of tour guides for the spiritual destiny of this planet.

Paul could have easily developed his own personality cult. Hands down. Instead, it drove him crazy when people said, “I follow Apollos…I follow Paul”. I have a feeling that some televangelists and Christian personalities with grandiose organizations named after themselves—“The So-and-So International Ministry”—would cause Paul embarrassment for the Body of Christ. And while no single personality so shaped the embryonic theology and ecclesiology of the Church, Paul consistently pointed to Jesus as the One deserving focus and worship, even giving his own body for Him…after having it beaten and abused for decades. It’s as if the reward he personally experienced was greater than any debt he felt owed to the One who gave His body for him. At times self-deprecating, maddening and puzzling, it’s hard to ignore the spiritual chutzpah and risk it took to write to the contentious Corinthian church, “Imitate me…just as I also imitate Christ.”

It’s a little sad seeing this current series end. This series came out of a planning season a year ago. It’s necessary for us to chart out series that far in advance so that in an increasingly complex multilayered staff we can plan to take advantage of options and next steps to get the most bang for the buck. And even with spending fourteen weeks in Acts (not counting the Christmas break), Paul’s journeys warrant more attention. But time marches on and we have other issues to cover.

Though there is one overarching thing it’s left me with.

A couple of times in my pastoring VCC I’ve gone on multiple-weeks fasts. I’m not a “fast-er” by nature (uh, that’s dumb…who is?). I like to eat. No, love to eat. I remember once when I felt God wanted us to do a series on the poor for six weeks. I was scared silly, convinced that we’d run everyone off. Who wants to come to church to get depressed and feel guilty? That’s what families are for. I’m just kidding. Sort of.

Regardless, it’s nearly always good advice to do the thing that you at least think God told you to do, if your heart is in a healthy place. And so we launched into a six-week series on poverty with my friend Andy Ransdell (now leading LifePoint Vineyard in Monroe, Ohio) sharing the teaching duties. As we began, I sensed God wanting me to fast. And so for three weeks I had zero food, just water, tea and watered-down orange juice; I was—er, am—too cheap to buy gallons of it, and I was drinking a lot of fluids. It was at the end of that series that we introduced the Healing Center concept.

A year later we started the Luke 4 Challenge to raise millions of dollars to create the Healing Center, the Student Union and the water project in Jos, Nigeria. Once again I felt compelled to fast. When I told my wife, she asked, “For how long?” I told her I think until God says to stop. Little did I know it would last over three weeks of no food at all. On the Sunday we had the commitments come in, Anita and I headed to Nashville after the last celebration to see our daughter…and I felt I was done. We stopped at a Frisch’s in Louisville and I had my first food: a bowl of vegetable soup.

In these two cases, I fasted because of two things: I was desperate to see God move at VCC…and I was passionate about what we were doing.

In Acts 23, we find this same kind of desperation and passion applied…but in a dark way:

The next morning the Jews formed a conspiracy and bound themselves with an oath not to eat or drink until they had killed Paul. More than forty men were involved in this plot. They went to the chief priests and elders and said, "We have taken a solemn oath not to eat anything until we have killed Paul. Now then, you and the Sanhedrin petition the commander to bring him before you on the pretext of wanting more accurate information about his case. We are ready to kill him before he gets here."

Can you imagine having forty men strategizing your murder? And so determined and passionate about it that they vow to fast until the job is done? Whoa. Religion can do some strange things…as we know in our current global troubles. And any leader that has a contract on him is doing something different. Just reading about that event in Paul’s life causes me to think about my own in different ways, in more outward-focused ways. Earlier while in Caesarea, a legit prophet takes Paul’s belt, ties his own hands and feet with it and says, “The Holy Spirit says, if you go to Jerusalem, the owner of this belt will be tied up and handed over to the Gentiles.” The people there saw this and pleaded with Paul not to go. Paul told them, “Why are you making this hard for me and breaking my heart? I’m not only ready to go to jail, I’m ready to die for Jesus.”

That’s powerful. Not only is he getting a premonition by the Spirit of what’s coming, he sees no reason to avoid it. This guy is on a mission.

I wonder if I’ll ever become that mission-oriented? Would I do that? When one becomes so focused away from their own safety or concerns that they can genuinely respond like that, it challenges me to want to get to know them…and to imitate them at some level.

And I hope that I can genuinely and honestly say at some point in my life, “Imitate me.”

father and child

I wonder why we think God is not as good of a father as we are?

This weekend Dustin Smith, our Senior High ministry worship leader, led worship in the big room. Charlie Hines (who, along with Jim Zartman, leads worship at VCC) had planned this weekend to introduce Dustin to the wider church. A few weeks ago, my youngest daughter Katie (it’s hard to believe she’s going to be twenty-two shortly) asked to do a worship internship with the Student Union. After her five-month stint with YWAM in Australia, Thailand and Indonesia, she came back with a different slant on her music. Prior to that, her two years in Nashville had kind of cooled down her music aspirations. She went there primarily to connect with other singer/songwriters and, I think, to get out of Cincinnati and individuate. Finding your own voice is part of growing up…and when your dad has an amplified one, it’s probably a bit tougher. But even more, she discovered her own faith…and her own brokenness before God.

It’s not that Katie didn’t enjoy worship. Katie and her sister Rachel have always loved to worship. Some of my fondest memories were hanging over the balcony rail watching the two of them dance during a jam-packed SOS worship jam through their junior and senior high years. Or seeing them lift their hands to God during intimate worship songs. I remember being at a national Vineyard conference in Anaheim in 2001 that had a separate youth conference simultaneously in a huge tent on the parking lot. During one of the evening sessions in the main auditorium, Matt Redman was leading worship and on the first song, all the students were released from outside and came running into the front of the stage singing and dancing. I spontaneously started crying once I spotted Rachel and Katie in the crowd, worshiping with all their hearts. I thought, “Does it get any better than this?” Now as a 23-year old married woman, Rachel sings with the worship band at the Chattanooga Vineyard and helps lead the outreach ministry.

As a former worship leader for many years, I would sometimes look out at a crowd of people and see someone standing there with arms crossed, boredly staring straight ahead, and know they were more than likely dealing with intimacy issues. Not just with God, but with other relationships. Call me crazy, but I think it’s interconnected. I don’t believe it’s a style issue or whether someone likes to sing or not. But to be a believer and in a crowd of people who are actively worshiping God and not give any body language or zero indication of a desire to express love to God strikes me as oddly self-absorbed or at worst, voyeuristic.

Katie never saw herself leading worship, even point-blank telling me years ago, “I’d never want to be a worship leader!” As she learned guitar in high school, she enjoyed writing her own songs about her emotional highs and lows, relationships…and God. But while on her third world mission trip, once the leaders discovered she played guitar, they told her she had to lead worship…they needed her. That’s when Katie’s proverbial paradigm shifted.

Dustin has taken her under his wing and Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are spent at the Student Union along with Saturday nights and Sunday mornings in the senior high celebrations. As an aside, it’s a freebie…internships are unpaid. And one of the things I’m totally weird about is anything that smells like favoritism. Many years ago I remember telling our then-current student ministry pastor, “Never ever show any partiality to my kids. Ever. I’m not kidding.” And I always thought it was weird when pastors turned the leading of their churches over to their kid. Anything that smells nepotistic creeps me out. It’s a heartbeat away from fostering an entitlement-mentality.

Anyway, watching Katie singing and playing her heart out to God was a bit overwhelming to me. I’m not sure how to describe what I felt…or even why I felt the way I did. Saturday night during the ending of the last song, I stood in the wings backstage and watched. When Katie finished, she put her guitar down, walked over and just hugged me. No words needed to be said, but just in case she didn’t know, I told her how proud I was…and then told myself to not lose it. What is it about your kids that so affects you when you see them making attempts to please God? I don’t think there’s anything like it. It’s oddly moving.

And it’s the moment. Whether she ever leads another worship song or decides to go in some completely different direction, it is this moment that I’ll remember twenty years from now. And doing my best to keep it together in the wings.

Which gets me back to the opening question: Do I really believe I’m a better dad than God?

Really?

At the risk of sounding irreverent, I wonder how many times He has stood in the wings with His chest puffed and thrilled to the core because one of His kids has made an attempt, however small, to honor Him in some way? I wonder if His flaming eyes have ever been quenched by tears of pride while watching one of His children do something in the moment that reflected the simplest desire to please Him? Do I truly think that God is devoid of emotion and only responds stoically to expected demands? Have I ever meditated on what it means to be made in His image?

If I did it would force me to answer this question: in times of anxiety and sleepless nights, do I really think I’m a better dad than God?

If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust? If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? As bad as you are, you wouldn’t think of such a thing. You’re at least decent to your own children. So don’t you think the God who conceived you in love will be even better? Matthew 7:9–11 (The Message)

the blind side

Twenty-ten, here we come.

On New Year’s Eve night we did what a lot of old people do: we went to a movie. After a great meal with some friends, we headed to the Rave to see The Blind Side with everyone’s favorite biker girl, Sandra Bullock (and who would have guessed that Faith Hill’s husband was turning into a real actor?).

The hit film is based on the true story of Baltimore Raven Michael Oher’s “rags-to-NFL” journey and has taken in a hefty $209 million and change. It’s a heartwarming story, but it leaves me a little flummoxed. Don’t get me wrong: it’s a feel-good, inspirational movie. Quentin Tarantino it’s not. And it’s dealing with real issues: racism, social classes and poverty. But here’s the deal: the audience was totally white…and will always be. Uh, big deal, Dave. Did you see who went to Narnia?

But here’s what makes me uncomfortable: the subtext is racial reconciliation, yet I wouldn’t invite any of my African-American friends to see it. It’s one more movie about white people rescuing hopeless and helpless black people. I know it’s done earnestly, but if you’re reading this and you’re white, try putting yourself in someone else’s shoes that has years of generational cultural minority baggage and abuse: how would you feel? Would you take your kid to see it? Sometimes the meta-message is bigger than the intended meaning.

And that’s the funny thing about the level of reconciliation that’s needed in the Church between the races. One would think that this movie is about the main character (Sandra Bullock, unlike the book it’s based on) having her perception of African-Americans turned upside-down. She responds to her friend’s statement, “You’re changing that boy’s life,” with “No, he’s changing mine.”

So why would I be uncomfortable inviting my friends to see it? That alone should give me a clue to part of the problem

Reconciliation is the core of Christianity: God reconciling us to Himself. He did this by slipping into the skin and sympathizing with the weaknesses of those who were powerless. That’s the incarnation. Paul sums it up in the hallmark scripture we used during the Christmas series: Your attitude should be the kind that was shown us by Jesus Christ, who, though he was God, did not demand and cling to his rights as God, but laid aside his mighty power and glory, taking the disguise of a slave and becoming like men. And he humbled himself even further, going so far as actually to die a criminal’s death on a cross. (Philippians. 2:5-8 Living Bible)

Jesus had all the power and all the privilege and rights with His Father, they were one in the same. But something remarkable happened because of love. He slipped into the skin of a slave. He knows what it’s like because He did the unthinkable: He became one of us. That’s the responsibility of the one with the power.

Incarnational Christianity is what I believe each one of us is called to do—to slip into the skin of someone else, to feel what they feel and see what they see, and so love them to the fullest. That’s the real thing. That’s why it says in 2 Corinthians: You know how full of love and kindness our Lord Jesus was: though he was so very rich, yet to help you he became so very poor…. (2 Corinthians 8:9a Living Bible). It goes beyond the power of empathy. In the early centuries, it was the Christians that stayed behind in natural disasters, famines and diseases to take care of the ones left behind.

Here’s the theological principle: Reconciliation is the responsibility of the people in power. Understand this: in the Kingdom of God, African-American believers must extend forgiveness to me, their white brother. King Jesus demands it. But there’s something vitally missing in that for me. If I don’t ask for forgiveness and show fruits of repentance by seeking systemic and individual justice, then I’m going to miss the transformational power of love in my life. It is always the responsibility of the people of privilege and power to seek reconciliation, not the other way around. That’s what Jesus did: left the privileges of heaven to reconcile the world to Himself, became a servant.

That’s incarnational Christianity. It’s all about real love. And when I make any attempt to see the world through my black brother’s eyes, then I let go of all claims, defenses and power, and become one with him…reconciled.

Years ago after one of our large scale outreaches, we reconvened in the Atrium with about a hundred of us to tell stories of what happened. I noticed one African-American couple with their little boy of about six or seven years old in a sea of white faces. The second person on the microphone told how excited they were to “talk to a black homeless guy”. She was earnest and sincere. But as I stood there, I wondered what was going on in the head of the husband of the couple who had brought their little son to do an outreach: Would he have to process what was said? Was the meta-message here that what this church does is help “black people” and the people who do that are white? And even more, if you want to grow up and be a leader here, you really need to be white…because that’s how it looked that afternoon. I wondered what it must be like to be a black father who wants to raise his child to be proud of his culture and his heritage, love the heart of the church he’s in, but have to wrestle with what’s between the lines of every conversation and communiqué.

Reconciliation is a little more complex than we who have the power probably think. And as my friend Ray McMillian once said, “I can’t take another foot washing.”

So isn’t reconciliation what Sandra Bullock did in the movie? Yes. But stop and think: the theatre is filled with white people. Maybe if we thought about that more—and the “why” behind it—it would do more for reconciliation than anything.

viral messages

This weekend was an out-of-body experience. I was so glad when the last celebration was over. I know I don’t have the gift of martyrdom; I was whining to anyone who asked me how I was doing.

On Friday, Christmas Day, I started feeling like a truck ran over me and my throat began to hurt. Saturday morning I was sure there were tire tracks down the front of me and I was having a tough time swallowing. Anita, being the good wife she is, said, “Don’t be a guy. Go see a nurse.” and sent me to a place called “The Little Clinic” in Kroger’s.

Huh?

I had never heard of it, but she convinced me that it would be the quickest way to go, especially since I still had a message to write…and to speak that night. So on my way to the office, I swung by “The Little Clinic”.

Turns out that they can do a strep test quickly, no appointments are needed, and you can pick up a bottle of sauvignon blanc, brick cheese and Wheat Thins on your way out. Now this is healthcare that works.

The nurse asked me all the typical questions about any exiting body fluids and so on. My head felt like I was in a fog, so I made up stuff when she asked my medical history. She swabbed my throat, checked my blood pressure, stuck that thing in my ear (a major technological advancement over every other method of temperature-taking), listened to my lungs and my heart, looked in my mouth and said, “’Ewwww! That’s really red,” then said it wasn’t strep: “See, only two lines instead of three on this, uh, thing.”

I told her thanks because of what I do in my job: talk a lot. She asked me what I did and I told her I was a pastor. Turns out she goes to what she described as a “oneness” church. I told her I had some friends in the UPC (United Pentecostal Church) denomination. These are folks who believe Jesus is God…but they’re not Trinitarians. It’s complicated.

Then she asked me what church I belonged to. I told her and she said she had heard of it. Then she asked me what I spoke about last weekend and I honestly couldn’t remember…so I said, “Uh, God.” Okay, chalk it up to head fog, raw throat distraction or viral brain freeze, but that’s pretty embarrassing.

Anyone who regularly speaks wrestles with retention, or “how people learn”. I think that’s why we tell people that this thing that happens on the weekend is not “real church”. “Real church” happens in the framework of community and serving/wooing/healing those outside of the community.

That’s why it’s so important that churches become activistic. Any kind of “doing” connected with input is processed and integrated far better. Years ago the “Learning Pyramid” was promoted by National Training Laboratories and then discredited mostly because of unproven percentage stats (and a dude named Thalheimer who was on a crusade), but I think many educators would agree conceptually with it, though argue about context. Regardless, it’s interesting and from my experience, true. The short version is: people learn and retain information way, way better with “practice by doing” and “teach others/immediate use” than by listening to a lecture or reading.

That’s the reason we never wanted to be just a “come-and-see” church, but a “go-and-do” one as well. For instance, we never wanted ministry to the underresourced and marginalized to simply be a “drop-off-your-offering-for-the-poor”-type thing. We have to personally rub shoulders with the poor to understand the heart of God. Or as we’ve said many, many times: we need the poor more than they need us.

I don’t think we really understand—or integrate the message of the Kingdom—until we begin doing what the Father is doing. I have no doubt that there are too many people sitting in churches that really don’t get it, but it may be that they have done very little of what God says we’re to do, and that ranges from relationship issues (eg. forgiveness) to compassionate service to healing the sick to whatever Jesus did…and does. That’s when real learning kicks in. Or as Jesus put it, “Knowing the correct password—saying ‘Master, Master,’ for instance—isn’t going to get you anywhere with me. What is required is serious obedience—doing what my Father wills.” (Matthew 7:21 The Message).

That verse alone should have the capacity to freak us out, but I’m not so sure that’s the intention. It could be that Jesus was way ahead of the National Training Laboratories folks: we learn best by doing and showing others how to do it.

Anyway, I was back at “The Little Clinic” today. This time whining for amoxicillin.

doughnut outreach!

a paper tiger

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Have you heard the news about Tiger Woods?

Yeah, right. I feel like I’m living at IHOT: the International House of Tiger with 24/7 coverage.

What is it that so captures the public’s attention? Like an I-75 car wreck, everything slows down for a potential view of twisted metal and who knows what else. And this is some serious wreckage; when indiscrete relationships hit double digits, you can count on TMZ camping on the doorstep. Pundits have taken potshots at Tiger’s past repeated references to how important his marriage is, with news clips and interviews of him espousing family-first values. Integrity is getting more difficult in a YouTube world.

It’s not unique. We could easily alphabetize a list of celebrities who got caught, from actors to preachers to politicians to sports stars to whatever the Kardashians do.

But what the public really loves is to lick its lips over hypocrisy. That’s when we smell blood.

I mean, come on. Even Jesus had his biggest rows with hypocrites. We get the word from the Greeks who used it for stage actors…a person pretending to be someone they aren’t. Jesus jumped all over that. And that’s where the media pounces: when someone espouses a view or projects a persona that turns out to be the opposite of what they say.

I think we come at this from one of three angles:

1. When someone preaches a value of virtuousness, it reminds us of how we fall short, and so we all nod like third-graders in feigned-serious agreement with a teacher’s lecture—we don’t want to be found out. Therefore, when someone stumbles publicly, we feel relieved that no one is really that perfect.

2. Or there is something grossly evil in us about secretly wishing for someone else’s downfall. It’s gossip, one-upmanship and wickedly appealing. As C. S. Lewis wrote, “How difficult it is to avoid having a special standard for oneself!”

3. Maybe we really want to see someone be true, virtuous and integrous. We want to believe that someone out there is actually who they say they are. Maybe we’re tired of people copping out with, “I’m an ______ (actor, athlete, politician, etc.), not a role model”, and wonder if there’s anyone who can step up to the plate and say like Paul, “Imitate me, just as I also imitate Christ”, or at least some secularized version of that. That’s gutsy.

It may be that whatever view we hold is dependent on how aware we are of our own brokenness or how hungry we are for “righteousness” (now that’s a quaint idea in the 21st century…). One thing for sure, Jesus has a lot to say about secret lives. Interestingly, He encourages a secret life when it comes to righteousness…and discourages any secrecy with our brokenness and sin:

“But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. (Matthew 6:3–4 NIV)

…“Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known. Therefore whatever you have said in the dark shall be heard in the light, and what you have whispered in private rooms shall be proclaimed on the housetops.” (Luke 12:2–3 ESV)

What a different way of thinking. We could probably avoid a lot of heartbreak if we practiced that. But we would do good to remember this: accountability without the pursuit of holiness is silly.

Pray for Tiger.


Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil. Cling to what is good. (Romans 12:9 NKJV)
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lost in translation

Whoa. It’s been four weeks since I posted. It’s been a crazy few weeks, I think maybe I needed to clear my head a bit of a few things…and not on the worldwideweb. Sorry to be absent, gang, but come on: I haven’t missed too many since starting this back in ’06, eh?

I’ve really enjoyed working through part one of The Jesus Underground series we just finished. I’ve notice in myself a bit of danger while studying our way through the book of Acts. It’s easy to slip into some wistful, idyllic picture of the early Church, especially the first few chapters. While we love the miracles, the big “come-to-Jesus” moments, and the apparent depth of community, we can miss what’s between the lines: the messiness, the confusion, the persecution and pain.

Can you imagine these first Jewish believers in Acts 2 wondering how they fit into Temple worship and what to do about required sacrifices? What are the polity, governance and configuration elements of this movement? Remember, no New Testament letter existed yet; their theology was being formed by their experience…and whatever they could interpret from the law and the prophets that shed light on this new covenant. What was the discipleship structure for understanding this remarkable covenant? Should, or could, Gentiles ever be a part of this movement? And on and on and on.

Think how complicated—and risky—this all would have been. No wonder Gnosticism and various squirrelly theologies slipped in quickly.

And then Paul comes into the picture.

I tire of critics taking potshots at Paul and his supposed “reshaping of Jesus’ message”. Sometimes, people pit Paul’s letters against the less “legalistic” love-ethic of Jesus. But I can’t even imagine what Christianity, let alone the early Church, would have done without his clear-headed and revelatory insight into this strange and unarticulated new covenant. There are precious few verses in the prophets regarding the details and nature of this next covenant (there is far more about “the day of the Lord” which is sometimes interpreted as the same). The only place that even uses the specific language of “new covenant” is in Jeremiah 31 with God spelling out but a few basics: the forgiveness of sins, an individualized actualized deep knowledge of Him, and a new spirit concordant with the law and heart of God. Yes, Paul’s writing requires thoughtful and contextual understanding, but I don’t see a dichotomy with the Kingdom language of Jesus or the mysterious foreshadows and types within the Old Testament.

Somewhat sweetly, the apostle Peter put it like this:

This is just as our beloved brother Paul wrote to you with the wisdom God gave him—speaking of these things in all of his letters. Some of his comments are hard to understand, and those who are ignorant and unstable have twisted his letters around to mean something quite different from what he meant, just as they do the other parts of Scripture—and the result is disaster for them. (2 Peter 3:15b–16)

Even more so, taking into account what Luke recorded of the encounter pre-conversion Saul/Paul had with Jesus, it’s Jesus who calls a believer named Ananias to pray for Paul who was walking around in the dark, blinded by the light. In a vision, Jesus tells Ananias that Paul has been hand-picked to carry the Kingdom message to the Gentiles…and via some kick-butt suffering. Years later, Paul becomes the first real theologian of the Jesus Underground movement. Reading his letters is like, as historian Thomas Cahill writes, “watching original theology in the making.” Pretty amazing when you think about what he did.

When we say the word theologian, we tend to think of a bookish-kind of guy with glasses and a corduroy sport coat with patches on the elbows. But Paul was certainly not that.

• Think of a Jewish Shia LaBoef (uh, actually, he is Jewish) who’s constantly getting attacked, who once escaped some bounty hunters over a city wall at night in a basket lowered by ropes.
• Think of a guy who almost gets torn apart because his preaching about Jesus is so compelling that the idol-making trade union riots in Ephesus because of a Kingdom-driven recession.
• Three times he narrowly survives a shipwreck.
• Imprisoned multiple times.
• Five times he was flogged with thirty-nine lashes.
• Three times he is beaten with a cane.
• Once he survived a stoning…barely.
• Traveled all over the Mideast, Asia and Europe…pre Megabus days when it was extremely dangerous.
• Often going without food, left in prisons cold and naked for months.
• While calling himself the “chief sinner” (probably because of being a widow-maker pre-conversion), he humbly writes that he now has a “clear conscience”. Wow. Now that’s a deep understanding of forgiveness and grace.

Let me ask you: what do you think Paul would think of American Christianity? And what would you think of a guy who by his own admission was not much to look at and not very impressive in person? And this is the man who says to the people he’s mentoring: fight a worthy fight…a good fight. I’d say to the Paul-bashers: walk a mile in his sandals.

And I think that’s why I’m going to so enjoy Part 2 of The Jesus Underground in January with the fantastic adventures of Paul.

He’s my hero. Complicated, but he's the man.
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a rough stretch

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It’s been a rough stretch.

Way back when I was traveling and playing music, Terry Kranyak taught me how to do basic electrical work. He owned a small non-union electrical company called Daystar Electric. In a way it “saved” me; it enabled me to earn some money when I was home and yet be flexible enough to go on the road for weeks at a time (and not earn money…). My wife and I loved Terry & Peggy Kranyak and their two little kids, Jesse & Meghan. As a matter of fact, we’d take their kids to Ault Park sometimes just to give them a break. They were amazing kids…and actually made us want to have some of our own, even with my crazy schedule and me continually saying, “Let’s wait one more year.”

Terry was a special guy. He was a cheerleader for our “bring-people-to-Jesus” Christian rock band. He had all of our albums and would play them for any of his non-Christian friends. We loved him so much that when his business tanked during a recession in the eighties, we collected unemployment while working for him full-time for free to help him get out of debt. Hippie-ish, organic, fun, fearless, incredibly generous, entrepreneurial, and a Jesus-lover. Somewhere along the way, he had gotten burned by a church…apparently being part of what was then referred to as a heavy “shepherding” congregation—authoritative and controlling. For whatever reason, they never really connected with a local church again, but loved being with other believers. When they moved away for Peggy to pursue a medical career, we missed them terribly. Once when we visited them in Virginia, I sensed that things were difficult in their marriage.

Later, for various reasons, they divorced. My wife cried like a baby when we got the news in Cincinnati. We lost touch, but Terry eventually moved to Kelley’s Island in Lake Erie, started a few different businesses, remarried and began a new life. We visited a couple of times, staying in a bed-and-breakfast that he built. He was still fun, energizing to be around, and always interested in what we were doing in the Vineyard. He loved hearing about what we were learning/teaching about the Kingdom.

The last time I saw him was a couple of years ago. He called to ask if I would consider baptizing his daughter Meghan in Lake Erie, now in her early twenties. Easy answer: Absolutely. I hadn’t seen the kids in many years. Peggy drove in from Cleveland as well. It was sweet. Terry and I would connect at best once a year by phone, but it always felt as though we could pick up like we had just seen each other at Frisch’s that morning arguing and laughing about some theological point.

Last week I got a call out of the blue from Meghan. After telling her what a happy surprise to hear her, she told me that Terry had just passed away. He had been in the hospital for a few weeks, gotten out, then took a sudden turn for the worse. I was shocked, to say the least, and could only respond with a stunned—and lame—“You’re kidding me, right?” as if a daughter would joke about that. Eventually I asked what arrangements had been made and she simply said, “Oh, you know dad. So unconventional. He didn’t want an obituary, he didn’t want a memorial service…just a party at the restaurant.” On Kelley’s Island.

Terry and I were the same age.

A day later Anita’s dad went into the hospital in Columbus. She drove up the next morning to check on him and the next day I received a text from her: He’s gone. I called her immediately, jumped in the car and two hours later ran into the hospital room. Anita and her sisters were there. David was lying in the bed, thin and pale with his mouth slightly open, his breath had slipped away with his spirit. He was a big, blustery, bigger-than-life personality. A lover of God. By Sunday we held a viewing, put together and spoke at a memorial on Monday and a graveside military sendoff that afternoon.

Two days later back in Cincinnati I awoke at 4:20 a.m. praying heavy and urgently in the Spirit for Charlie Matthews. I knew it was for him.

Charlie was one of the best pastors I’ve known, no fooling. Off-the-chart passionate about Jesus. Activistic, fiercely loyal, hard-working, authentically people-loving, fun, transparent, an intense learner…and ridiculously liberal in kind things to say about people. I knew that he had been through several tough and potentially cynicism-inducing church situations in his past, but I honestly never heard him say an unkind thing about anyone. And I mean anyone. The times we sat in Panera and the long-gone Barnes and Noble Bookstore on Kemper were always catalytic: Charlie asking lots of questions, always throwing out encouraging words, talking about his family and his desire to balance his love for them with his drive for the Kingdom. I remember thinking many times: this guy is going to bust up the gates of hell. He would take on any job in the Vineyard with gusto, but you knew he was like a racehorse waiting to rocket out of the gate to plant a church. He simply wanted to do what was right and whatever God wanted him to do. We knew he was the perfect fit for the relaunch of the Mason Vineyard.

Friday I received word that things were not good. More prayer. Saturday morning while at the office working on my message for the weekend, I got the phone call. Honestly?—expletive and anger. I jumped in my car, drove to Bethesda North, and went to his room. Family and friends were crying. Charlie was gone. After everyone left the room, I stared at Charlie for a long time from the foot of his bed. He looked exceptionally tired but peaceful to me. I cannot tell you what my prayers were.

The weekend was a bit of a blur. I sensed strongly that I had a message to deliver that was light-years from what I was feeling. It’s nothing heroic, but staying on point is part of the gig. Or at least that’s what I felt I should do. And, of course, second-guessing is somewhat continual.

Death sucks. There is absolutely nothing romantic about it; it’s flat-out ugly. On one hand it’s completely natural: everything we know dies. I’ve been at too many bedside deaths to not think about the whole cycle of life. I’ve spoken at funerals while watching a newborn wiggle in a mother’s arms in the back of the room. We’re born, we die. But at the same time there is this nagging drone in my soul that this is not how it’s supposed to be. Paul simply calls it the last enemy for Jesus to vanquish, the last step after all authorities and powers have been destroyed. And those early believers who lived with a hairline connection between costly faith and perpetually potential death must have longed desperately for the One they knew had conquered His own death to come back quickly. Maranatha. Rid us of this sword of Damocles, King Jesus. Please.

The questions are always around timing…and fairness. Some jerk who shafts his family, leeches off of society, and forever concerned with himself, lives a long unproductive and self-consumed life. A man who genuinely loves his wife and kids and fervently seeks the Kingdom is cut short at thirty-seven. I truly can relate to Paul’s words—and keep in mind Paul had more than his share of pain and loss—when he writes in 2 Corinthians 4:8: “…we are perplexed, but not in despair.”

I could write about potential answers and some tidy theological thoughts, but I think I want—need—less of that and more venting apart from this blog. And I promise to write a bit more about the questions…and what they mean. Somehow the questions seem more important to me.

Pray for Charlie’s wife Angie and their two little kids.

And even so, Come Lord Jesus. I trust You.
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john parker painting

Had a few people ask me about the artist I referenced last weekend. Check him out here.

John Parker by Ken Swinson

the power of the jesus underground

Sometimes talking about experiencing the Holy Spirit stirs up quite a bit of, well, emotions. Good and bad. One weekend after speaking along similar lines, a woman charged up on stage and literally yelled at me between celebrations. She was so angry she was physically shaking. She shouted that I had said she wasn’t really “saved”, that she wasn’t able to hear God, and she was a second-class citizen in the Kingdom of God.

Wow. I tried to quickly mentally reboot everything I’d said that morning and for the life of me couldn’t think of anything that remotely implied that.

She was shaking her finger in my face. I finally had to say, “Stop it! You need to calm down right now and stop yelling at me.” She glared at me. “I never said anything like that,” I insisted.

She bristled, “Well, you seemed to say that if I didn’t have some sort of weird experience, something was wrong with me.”

Puzzled, I replied, “I’m sorry, but I never said anything like that either.”

“Yes you did,” she huffed. “You said I had to be filled with the Holy Spirit.”

“I didn’t say that—Paul did. He wrote to the believers in Ephesus: be filled with the Holy Spirit. I didn’t tell you how to ‘manifest’ that…or what that should even look like.”

Obviously this is an emotionally charged subject. And too bad…because we shortchange the real purpose of the multiple fillings that the early disciples experienced: a bold passion for people who didn’t yet know Jesus. The extreme views and practices on either side polarize the issue. I cringe when I see some of the ways my charismatic brothers create a subculture of wackiness, often on TV. When Todd Bentley kneed someone in the gut on GodTV for healing purposes, you’ve got some puffed up showmanship that’s gone awry. On the other hand, the mean-spirited and frankly poor exegesis of cessationist John MacArthur who attributes any contemporary manifestation of the classic power gifts of 1 Corinthians 12 to Satan is equally embarrassing to the Body of Christ.

Please. Could we tone things down a bit?

Let’s keep in mind the mission of the church and how the moving of the Holy Spirit complements that. Let’s clearly define the purposes of our different gatherings and contexts. In my reading of Acts, it seemed to me that most expressions of the power of the Holy Spirit were in the street, beyond the church walls. But perhaps in some circles we’ve made the practice of the gifts in such routine Pentecostal expressions, that unless it looks just like that, we assume the Spirit isn’t moving. And on the other hand, evangelicals can have such a narrow view and lack of experience that we simply rule out the possibility of the power gifts. There’s a bit of self-righteousness in both approaches.

I believe God may have a third way. And it may not look how either party wants it to.

Bring it on.

kairos

I spoke this weekend at the Mason Vineyard Community Church for their relaunch weekend in their new digs.

The church was planted by a great guy about eight or nine years or so ago. Todd Pierce started the church after being turned on to a different way of doing church. He was pastoring a traditional church in the 1990’s that was bogged down in bureaucracy and a “this-is-the-way-we’ve-always-done-it” philosophy. And frankly, no outward focus to speak of. If I remember correctly, he once told me he spent a year trying to talk the elder board into getting a projector to do simple PowerPoint-type stuff. After a year, they rented one, tried it out one weekend, and then said, “Okay, we did it. Now send it back.”

Eventually he left and started attending VCC with a few other folks as well. They lit up, to put it mildly. I remember doing a free car wash with his entourage one Saturday when one of his guys said, “I’ve gone to the same church since I was a kid where my dad and granddaddy were pillars. Today at this car wash I’ve talked to more people about Jesus than I have my whole life.” They got hooked on serving.

Not long after, Todd and several folks launched a new church in Mason. But seasons come and go. After a number of years and some life-stage changes, I think Todd simply felt tired and a little “vision”-impaired. He graciously turned the church over to his friends and advisors, offered to stay as long as needed, but clearly wanted to hand the leadership off to someone else. I can’t tell you how wise, how selfless and how rare that is. Many of us hang on to something way beyond our level of energy, our sense of entitlement and perceived need for self-esteem. And often, the only way for us to truly live is by dying to something. When it’s time for me to lay my work down, especially for the sake of future healthy growth, I hope I wisely recognize the time—the kairos—and do it as gracefully as Todd.

Hence, as their “sending church”, we got involved in the process along with MVCC’s volunteer leaders and began to help them chart out some different courses. Along the way, one of our staff pastors who was looking forward to churchplanting in the future, became the obvious choice to lead the church forward. Charlie Matthews is a more than competent leader and hungry to get in the game. Full of energy, ideas and good experience in several different contexts and capacities, Charlie was the man for the gig. I couldn’t have been more excited for Charlie…and MVCC.

Anyway, this past weekend was their official new launch…and Charlie was sick as a dog, as my mom says in Kentucky. Double-pneumonia. The poor guy was super bummed. He’ll be back next week and ready to go, I’m sure. And it will be great for Mason. I think it’s their time now, their kairos.

As I understand it, in the New Testament the Greeks used several different words for what we translate as “time”. One of them was kronos; that’s the unrelenting march of clock-time and calendar-time. It’s how history unfolds. Another Greek word for time is kairos. Kairos means a moment of opportunity. Mark Buchanan describes it like this: with kronos we ask, “What time is it?” but with kairos we ask, “What is this time for?” When the Old Testament was translated from Hebrew into Greek, they used the word kairos for Solomon’s words, “To everything there is a season…a time to plant, a time to reap…a time to laugh, a time to cry…”

Perhaps wisdom is the ability to understand our kairos.

I’m thrilled with what I’m doing now. All the frustrations and strokes that come with pastoring are neither here nor there for me; it’s being in the moment, the flow, of my appointed time. Understanding our kairos is key to understanding this mysterious thing we label “our calling”, our vocation. I’m beginning to believe that discerning kairos may be more important than identifying our vocation…or at least they’re certainly joined at the hip.

How are you determining your kairos? Or has kronos crowded out the ability to pay attention to that? Do you have a sense of what this “time in your life” is for? Is it being used wisely? And of course all those questions can best be answered with a surrendered-heart attitude. As we develop an outlook of laying our lives down for the Kingdom, kairos becomes a little simpler to discern. And somehow the degree of my surrendering has always been an easier thing to identify in the deepest part of my heart, sometimes to my joy and sometimes to my disappointment with myself.

At least that’s been my experience over thirty-five years of following Jesus.

To everything there is a season,
A time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born,
And a time to die;
A time to plant,
And a time to pluck what is planted;
A time to kill,
And a time to heal;
A time to break down,
And a time to build up;
A time to weep,
And a time to laugh;
A time to mourn,
And a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones,
And a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace,
And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to gain,
And a time to lose;
A time to keep,
And a time to throw away;
A time to tear,
And a time to sew;
A time to keep silence,
And a time to speak;
A time to love,
And a time to hate;
A time of war,
And a time of peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1–8 (NKJV)

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the investment

This weekend I used Jesus’ parable of the ten minas in Luke 19. There were a couple of different directions I could have gone, but I wanted to focus on the demand God has for productivity, and that’s a piece that often gets short-changed in high-grace settings. I used the business term ROI—Return On Investment. It makes sense when you think about it, but most of us bristle at the idea of some sort of “spiritual performance review” having to do with our kingdom-effectiveness, perhaps because some of us have had to endure performance reviews in our jobs that were painfully done or less developmentally focused and more punitive.

It was a difficult message to give only because I’m forced as well (perhaps more so) to take a hard look at my own life. I have to lean heavy into the grace of God on this one because it’s easy for me to slip into a “performance-based” relationship. One of the most troubling scriptures for me has been Jesus’ words, “To whom much is given, much is required.” It’s not that I think I have some abundance of gifts and talents, but it’s more about context: I live in a wealthy country, I’m a white male in a privileged majority (if you don’t think racism still exists, you’re amazing), a great marriage, I have more Bibles than I need, access to the world through the internet, never a thought about clean water or available food, and the pastor of a good-sized church. That’s a lot that’s been given to me. The requirement-part of that proverb feels, well, intimidating at times. I need boatloads of grace.

That still doesn’t excuse me from what God wants to see produced from my life. And that message regularly sobers me up in this consumer-drunk culture.

But the other part of this parable that would have required a lot more time to unpack was the judgmental message. I actually left off the last line of the parable from the video (so beautifully drawn by one of our young adult volunteers, the incredible Tahnee Torres). The final verse, voiced ominously by Max McLean, has the master of the land saying tersely to his servants, “But those enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and kill them in front of me.” (Luke 19: 27 ESV).

Whoa.

The judgment of the servants who didn’t want the master to be king was hard and almost seemed to be an afterthought beyond the “productivity” lesson. Obviously productivity and submission are connected in this story. And what’s more, the king wanted them killed in his presence. The tone is more than dark. Whatever metaphor Jesus is painting here because of the apparent refusal of the subjects to submit to this new king, one thing is sure: God isn’t messing around. The setup for this parable in verse eleven is that the people who were following Jesus were expecting the kingdom of God to be manifest as Jesus strode into Jerusalem from Jericho.

Only one problem: He knew that He would be executed in Jerusalem and that the kingdom would not be fully consummated until He returns. That was not how His Jewish followers had interpreted the prophecies; the long-anticipated “day of the Lord” was a singular event ushering in a nationalistic new order.

But that was the wrong interpretation. Makes me wonder about the micro-managed “left-behind” eschatology of the typical American evangelical.

Anyway, to go beyond just a preaching of the judgmental aspect of this parable and not explore an apologetic for Divine judgment—while still zeroing in on the primary ROI aspect of the story—seemed way too overwhelming for a twenty-five minute message. It’s a matter of focus…and scope.

But I think I would have relished the challenge of talking about the judgment of God…mostly because I am acutely aware of the danger of putting words in the mouth of God; it’s a precarious proposition. It’s probably best to do what Jesus did so masterfully: simply tell the story, with all its sadness and in-your-face truth, and let the hearers wrestle with it. I was simply concerned that two big themes were too much to deal with in one sitting.

I think that’s a message for another time.

Hmmm. And perhaps my friend Joe can give it.

learning how to die

I’ve had this Jon Foreman song stuck in my head for months and months. Can’t get it out. Need help. Click the song on the widget to the right...

Learning How To Die

“I'm gonna miss you.
I'm gonna miss you
When you're gone.”
She says, “I love you;
I'm gonna miss hearing your songs.”

I said, “Please.
Don't talk about the end.
Don't talk about how
Every living thing goes away.”
She said, “Friend,
All along I thought
I was learning how to take,
How to bend not how to break,
How to live, not how to cry.
But really I've been learning how to die.
I've been learning how to die.”

verse two:

Hey, everyone, I've got nowhere to go.
The grave is lazy; he takes our body slow.

I said, “Please.
Don't talk about the end.
Don't talk about how
Every living thing goes away.”
She said, “Friend,
All along I thought
I was learning how to take,
How to bend not how to break,
How to laugh not how to cry.
But really I've been learning how to die.
I've been learning how to die.”

In my little head, this is as true to the call of Jesus as you can get.

“If you grasp and cling to life on your terms, you’ll lose it, but if you let that life go, you’ll get life on God’s terms.” Luke 17:33 (The Message)


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we came...we saw...we grilled

I’m way overdue on this, but I thought you’d enjoy seeing some of the emails from the 1000 Barbecues a couple of weekends ago; I’ve deleted names to protect the innocent. The idea was simple: get one-thousand people at VCC to throw a neighborhood cookout on their street on one weekend and just love on their neighbors. How basic is that?

Beyond that, we were confident God would use the time to build/renew/restore some relationships…and perhaps create an opportunity to share God’s love down-the-road. How can we fulfill Jesus’ commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves if we don’t even know their names?—at least, that’s my embarrassing confession.

Our party was great, but the best part was when we were all sitting around the patio tables, one of my newer neighbors put his Mike’s Hard Lemonade down and said, “And what do you do for a living, Dave?” I said, “I’m a pastor.” There were a few seconds of silence and then he said, “Really?”—except in the way you say it without sounding like a question, with the second syllable dropping down in pitch. Too funny.

And then we moved on to other conversation.

We all hung around for a good while laughing and telling stories and at the end of the night several people said “thanks for doing this…let’s do it again…soon.”

Remember, this isn’t friendship with an agenda, it’s friendship with a vision. It’s calling out the hidden dreams people have buried deep, deep inside: a life of intentionality, of meaning, of passion, of connection. And dreaming for them of a life of grace and beauty and love. It’s what we all secretly want.

And perhaps it all starts with a simple cookout.

Anyway, here are a few emails…


Hello Dave,

Just wanted to report on our neighborhood cookout that we had. Instead of inviting individual families, we decided to put up signs on Monday the 24th in our small 5 street neighborhood and invited anyone who wants to come. Probably 140 houses. We listed the time from 5:00-7:00 or until the food runs out. All we asked people to bring, was a canned good per person to donate. We thought we would try to help out the Healing Center too.

We bought enough hot dogs/beans/watermelon for about 150 people, and were hoping to have at least 100+. Not sure exactly why, but we fell a little short of our goal. We had about 25 show up. Fun with the 25, but not what we had envisioned. Maybe we scared them off with the donation, maybe they thought we were going to try and sell them something, don't know.

It was a gorgeous day, the ones that showed up had a good time. It was a good idea trying to show God's love in a practical way.

Keep the water flowing in Nigeria...

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Dave,

We participated in this event. . . . We invited the 14 households on our cul de sac to come to our yard to enjoy hot dogs and hamburgers. Six out of the fourteen came and had a good time.

Thanks for encouraging us to reach out in so many different ways. Most touching was the fact that an elderly gentleman who we rarely see out of the house stopped by on his scooter. He wanted us to know that he had received his invitation. Also he wanted to make sure we were still going to church. Being the "new kids on the block" (two years), we thought the neighbors knew each other. This event helped to bridge some of those gaps.

After eating, the adults left and the children/teens hung around, shooting hoops and eating smores.

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Dave,

We had our barebecue on Saturday. The theme of our event was "Just Because".....because in the hectic schedule of life we often forget our friends and the affect they have on our lives. So we sent out an invite to everyone we could think of...... imagine our surprise when we added it all up that we could have 100 plus people at our house.. ......we were a little scared, but then decided it was God's party and he would bring those that he really wanted to be there.

We ended up with around 60 people, kids and all. Had a great time getting to know them even better.. ...God knows what will come out of it. Thank you for making the challenge to step up.

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Hey Dave;

…Last week after your message about neighborhood grill outs, we came home and made out invitations to come this past Sunday night to our home for one. We drove around and illegally :-) put them in mailboxes that night. Then we had the week from hell and thought "we don't have time or the energy for this party, what the heck did we just get ourselves into?"

We began to interceed that the Lord would orchestrate this party. After my daughter was taken to the hospital Friday night, it just put things into perspective for us. I didn't care if my house was clean or if I had enough food, it just didn't matter. I had to lay the "martha stewart hostess" aside and just let God do it. And you guessed it, HE DID.

We had 21 people show up. We have neighbors who live across the street from one another who haven't spoken to one another since Thanksgiving when they had a blow out and I knew this and had prayed that God would mend the broken friendship. When they both arrived only minutes apart, and they wouldn't look or speak to one another, I whispered under my breath for the Lord to intervene. And he did. By the end of the night, they were playing corn hole as partners.

A man who used to be mayor of our town has a mother who has been seriously ill and possibly in her final days and we've been reaching out to him since he is so alone with taking care of her and making hard decisions in her behalf. He showed up and asked us for prayer.

Another couple that we've known for some time and searching for Christ (but they don't know it :-) he is a firefighter of 26 years and he sat down next to me and first thing he said to me was how God had answered a prayer for us. You see, I just requested him to be my friend on facebook a couple of weeks ago, although I've known him for years, and he said that he and his wife were leary to add me as their friend because they could get a little raunchy on FB. I told them that I didn't care, that I loved them just the way they are. They make me laugh! And now he asks me to pray for these people that he helps to rescue….

So our grill out was a huge success. We had fun with the other guests too, but those were the three God stories that I wanted to share with you from the fruit of our grill out.

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Dave,

Thanks to you and VCC for challenging all of us to have a neighborhood BBQ.

We held ours Saturday evening, and had three families come, but had a really nice time.
We've lived in our house for 9+ years, and have never done anything like host a BBQ.

We live on a busy street, not in a quiet "neighborhood", and don't really have a nice flat back yard, deck, or patio like some of our friends do. But, we figured we'd rise to the challenge. We invited people from eight houses, and three came.

I was worried about how we'd afford to buy meat for the BBQ, and it ended up we got coupons for beef and buns from my mom. We were able to buy enough meat for 35 hamburgers and three times as many buns for $12! When I was standing in my kitchen forming 35 hamburger patties, I thought about the loaves and fishes, because we truly were blessed with so much more food than we needed for our grill out.

Like I said, we've had our home for 9 years, and didn't even know the names of the people we always say "Hey" to when we see them. We got to find out where they work, who their kids are, and much more about them Saturday evening.

It was humbling and such a blessing for us to be able to serve our neighbors. The most rewarding part was at the end of the evening, the neighbors thanked us for hosting dinner, something that was way too long overdue.

We're talking about doing a cookout like that every year now. We're so glad we were held our BBQ, and we sure hope you hear from at least 999 other families.

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Hey Dave,

…Ok, so this was out of my comfort zone, and that's saying a lot because (my wife) says that I could talk to a wall and talk to too many strangers. This was a hard assignment because (my wife) was not able to make the call to action weekend's service because she was working. I had to move on the plans without her seeing why. Do not tell her that I told you but her reaction to me wanting to do it was "If that is what you need to do then..." So that did not help with my motivating. To her testament she let me be the spiritual leader in it. So, after convincing her that it would be ok to create a Word document invitation and not a wedding style invitation we began moving on things.

We recently rented our Norwood house out and are house sitting for friend in the Anderson area. So... it added to our apprehension. But you are our leader and you said to do it!

So (my wife), who I respect a ton for doing it, put the invitations out on the approx. 20 condos in our cul de sac. We prayed hard for the event, Sunday at 5:30. We invited my parents and (my wife’s) brother, his girlfriend and one of (my wife’s) friends. We wanted to have some other people we trusted there incase no one showed up. That was a real concern because for the month we hadn't met anyone and were told that no one had seen our next door neighbor but once. The other reason we were concerned that we would not have guests is our street is like a wild west ghost town. People drive-in in their air conditioned cars and close the garage door behind them.

So the time came for the party. I moved my big grill into the front driveway as "advertisement" to show people that we were serious about it. As the time grew nearer we put more stuff out and saw some neighbors stick their heads out of their doors. At the appointed time I just sat in a chair in the driveway and hung out with our "planted" guests (friends and Family) until our neighbors showed. The neighbors across the street were the first and began the awkward 30 foot approach. I met them part of the way and the party began. Other neighbors showed up and we had 20 by my count. We made it a point to talk with all of them and learn their names. It was great. Our planted friends and family helped if there were anyone not engaging and I believe everyone had a great time.

After learning someone's name the most common question was, "how long have you lived here?" Multiple times the answer was, "I am an original, I am the first and only owner." Then the other would respond, "Me too." The condo/townhouse development is about 11 years old and this was the first time they had anything like this!

Realize, they possibly have 12 inches of distance between their heads when they are sleeping! All this happening on a short street smaller than a football field and they had not met each other in 10 years!

…One of the funny things I noticed, was we just asked that the people bring their own drinks and chairs. So they brought desert. It was ok b/c we had some coke to share.

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Hey Dave,

Just want to drop a quick line before I run out the door to the Bengals game - ☺

I'm really happy you challenged us to do this...I have known for a long time this is one of my gifts but unfortunately my wife doesn't share this gift

My next door neightbor started going to VCC about a year ago and so I thought I would ask her if she wanted to "TEAM-UP AND DO IT AS A SHARED EXPERIENCE". She said that she had been thinking about it but was not comfortable with hosting it. I told her my idea was to host it myself in my backyard and asked her if she would coordinate the food from the neighbors. She said to me, "now I feel better and don't feel guilty" So (my wife) and I discussed it with her and her live-in boyfriend--fiance I think--and came up with a plan

We went around knocking on doors inviting people over. we had the BBQ this past Sun evening (4:00pm) and we didn't get to inviting people until the Monday before which barely gave people 6 - 7 days.

It was interesting bec only 1 or 2 people actually RSVP'd but about 75% of the people showed up...mostly those whom said they would prob come did in fact come.

Well in actuality we had plenty of food and lots of fun. Prob about 30 or more people came and they were all happy that we did this.

Some of the benefits are:
--The neighbors now want to have a "Chili Cook-off" this Fall and continue the get togethers (wasn't our idea, haha)
--One couple who hardly ever waves or ever say hi or boo or anything for many years showed up and was very pleasant to get to know - now they are waiving as we pass.

It truly brought us all closer together and I'm praying it will continue!!

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Once again, how simple is this? I'm convinced people are longing for something that they cannot articulate. Maybe sometimes our job is simply to give language...or words.

Or The Word.