Local & International Missions

Many believe that missions is for the select few hardcore Christians. From what I have been learning over the past year is that missions work is an ourpouring of the Christian ethical life. I am completely indebted to Dean Samuel Wells and others to the phrases of working for, working with, and being with used in this entry.

In the summer of 2005, I went to Choma, Zambia with a youth group team on a mission trip. It suited my personality and drive to want to serve, to help, to teach, and to deliver supplies. In so many ways, I saw myself as working for the people of Zambia, providing teaching and support in ways they could not do on their own. In the face of the reality of poverty, I was sparked with the desire to help, to do something. This was because I did not know any other means of interacting.


In the years following that trip, my church continued to send groups to Zambia (youth, families, medical team, etc...), but it also became even more committed to its partnership with an impoverished neighborhood in Memphis called Binghampton, or simply The Bing. A ministry called Service Over Self (SOS) had grown out of members of the congregation to show Christ's love by moving into the neighborhood. Once the need for home repair became evident, SOS grew out of being with the neighborhood to work with them to meet a need. (sosmemphis.org). The SOS staff live in the neighborhood and work with the local leadership, never assuming to have the right answers. Instead, they come together as the body of Christ to share love.

Local missions v. international missions: The glamor and adventure of international missions often tempted me, but it was for all the wrong reasons. I always thought it would make me feel like my life had been worthwhile. However, this summer, being with Asbury Temple UMC, I am continuing to learn the real ways we are to live the Christian life. More often than not, we are to be with each other instead of tackling huge service projects for others. Missions shouldn't need to be added to our lives on Saturdays; rather, we should be with the poor, the hungry, and the stranger often. It was inside those relationships that Jesus lived. Once there is a relationship there, the needs will become apparent. Then, the needs can be addressed inside the relationship, not outside of it. This will stop the ways working for reinforces power and status. This can be done locally or internationally. One of the missions organizations that best exemplifies this relationship of working together and being together attitude is Costa Rica Mission Projects. Here is their mission statement.

"When Jesus washed the feet of His disciples, he taught us, in dramatic fashion, that if we claim to be His followers, we must be servants to one another. Christian service comes in many forms and we believe that we have been called to provide opportunities for churches in Costa Rica and churches from other countries to serve one another and explore what it means for us to be part of a body that extends far beyond the walls of our own individual churches. Our hope is that we might be able to help foster long lasting, fruitful relationships between the congregations who participate in this ministry. It is very important to us that we avoid establishing or reinforcing already existing relationships of dependency, but rather, that the churches involved will discover the benefits of interaction with one another. We understand the communion that takes place across borders, cultures and languages as a glimpse of God's Kingdom and as a sign of the work of the Holy Spirit among us." (costaricamissionprojects.com).

Father's Day Thoughts

On Sunday, I decided to take a quick bike ride before dinner. I didn't go far, up and around east campus. When I was passing the E. campus bus stop, two little boys, probably about 8 years old yelled up a sign and yelled, "Want to buy some lemonade, brownies, or cookies?" I didn't have any money, so I said, "Sorry!" I was impressed with their ingenuity and willing entrepreneur-spirit. I smiled to myself and continued on my way.

Only minutes later as I left campus to take the road back to the Pathways House, I passed three young boys going to opposite direction on the other side of the street. They couldn't have been much older than lemonade-stand boys. They also decided to yell an offer at me, but it was definitely not as sweet as the first group. All three said it, one after the other, and while it was unclear at first, I deduced that they were saying, "wanna f***?" While I didn't feel unsafe in any way, knowing it was all talk, my heart broke. What happened in these boys life that they treat women like that? Who failed to raise them? That day was also Father's Day.

On the topic of fathers, that morning in church, our Pastor asked all the fathers to stand so that we could could pray over them. In addition, he requested anyone stand who assumed the role of a father-figure. Immediately, this woman in the center back row jumped to her feet, baby on the hip. Our pastor nodded at her acknowledging that he understood her situation. Her strong face said it all; she had assumed the role of both parents. In addition, as I entered in the names of the students for the Wright Room summer program, I did not once see a male name on the "Parent" or "Emergency Contact" information line. Not once. Lots of mothers with different last names than the children and grandmothers. Where are the men? Where are the boys' fathers?

Hablo espanol.

One of the reasons I accepted the internship this summer at Asbury Temple was its geographical context in the heart of Northeast Central Durham. It is a sanctuary in the midst of poverty and strife. I didn't want to be there so I could save Durham,be the hero, or to serve necessarily. I wanted to be there because that is where Jesus was, with the forgotten and poor. I need to learn from the community, not the other way around. When I attended the Feed My Sheep food ministry on Saturday with the church, I was surrounded by families and single persons on food stamps or in need who were there to receive a warm meal (the church members, especially Julius, really know how to cook!) and groceries. The youth program were are having in July/August is for these families. The camp is free, and Durham Public Schools provides a free breakfast and lunch, something that these kids may not receive in the summer. Sarah and I handed out a bunch of English and Spanish registration forms to the people there as they asked for them.

However, in many ways, I wasn't surprised to be face to face with many hungry there because it was in fact a food ministry. I was surprised with the encounter we had on Tuesday though. Sarah and I met with Pastor Shane Benjamin in the church office to discuss volunteer training and safety among other things. In the middle of our conversation, there was a knock on the door, and Shane went to get it. He brought in a hispanic man who was obviously in need of assistance. The worried expression on his face told us that, but the language barrier was obviously an issue. I looked at him and said, "hablo espanol." I proceeded to explain that I was not fluent. Despite that, I became Shane's translator. For me, it was mentally and emotionally exhausting, for the man had tears in his eyes the whole time. I was having a hard time gathering all the details of his story, but I could catch enough to explain to Shane what his situation was and what he needed.

After we had decided what to do, we all had to wait about 10 more minutes for Julius to arrive because he had the power to make decisions as the head of the Board of Trustees. Anyways, Shane told me to tell the man that it was going to be okay and to relax. When I told him, disbelief crossed his face, and he told me that he was been overcome with worry, "muy preocupado." It was a joy to see him sit there with more peace after that. Once the man had gone with Julius, I explained that emotional moment to Shane. His reply was, "Yes, it's tough. We are to be a sanctuary." I realized that I had never had that kind of unexpected meeting with the hungry, the poor, the abandoned all at once. I had to look at that man and focus with all my might to understand him, and I could see how my limited Spanish was finally, for once in my life besides Costa Rica, able to be used to be the church. We believe his name was Gilbert, but probably a slightly more Spanish version of that. Overall, I learned a lot from him today about encountering Christ.

Fiesta Time Slideshow

Pathways Summer Internship

I'll be surprised if anyone ever reads this, considering I abandoned my blog for the Spring semester of school. I think of a blog as a place of reflection, kind of like journaling, but I was so busy this past semester that even my beloved moleskin journal saw less ink.

In the fall of this past school year, I took an incredible class on ethics (particularly Christian ethics) which I illuminated in my earlier posts. A focus of the course was on how we, as the Body of Christ, are called to be with each other, particularly with the poor, abandoned, and forgotten of the world. I spent this past semester stressing over where I would be this summer. Every full-proof plan I made fell apart, one after the other. I have never been so humbled. Thankfully, I am a part of an incredible ministry here at Duke called Pathways which focuses on helping undergraduates discern God's call for their lives. After fighting God's call that I was supposed to be a Pathways Summer Intern, I finally accepted the offer, having no idea what my placement would be or why I needed to be here in Durham this summer. This was the beginning of my summer's focus: letting go of my perfectly-crafted plans and trusting in the Lord.

The Pathways House is alone enough to reflect on. Once an eyesore on the West End neighborhood, it was known for prostitution, drugs, and even homicides (I have never mentioned these facts to my parents - sorry, mom!) When Dean Wells of Duke Chapel began discussions of participating in the life of the neighboring West End neighborhood more, the neighborhood asked them to look at this house. There is an eloquent video on the Duke Chapel website about the house's transformation. I encourage you to watch it. http://www.youtube.com/user/dukechapel#all/uploads-all/1/BdIPercZCgM.

Two weeks have quickly past since I moved in. At my internship placement, I have begun the process of getting ready for Asbury Temple UMC's summer youth program - the Wright Room. Sarah (my friend and the youth director) and I have been cleaning, emailing volunteers, and hanging out with the youth. The church is mostly run by lay leadership and passionate community members. I have already learned so much about how to chill out and be church. Today was full of laughter and love at the post-service celebration, "Fiesta Time!" for the students as they ended the school year.

Life in the House is full of family love. We sit down to eat dinner together almost every night. I can't even remember the last time I did that so much away from home. We have experienced random visitors to our front porch who seek shelter from the Durham sun as they wait for the bus or as they converse with friends. We have had to call the police because a confused immigrant had parked his truck in our driveway (trapping all of our cars). We have enjoyed the musical stylings of a local trumpet player who, with eyes closed and headphones in, played his heart out as he waited for the bus. We have experienced rain in the kitchen and prayer room as the roof revealed some flaws. We have experienced love.

Homecoming

I have no excuse for my behavior, blog readers. No posts for months despite the cries of friends...

Having just finished a semester of classes, tests, and presentations and having been home for Christmas a few days now, I haven't been able to settle into "home." The 12+ hour drive spread over two days gave me plenty time to dwell (ok, overanalyze) on the previous semester, but the questions in my mind continue to be unsettling for me. This post is my attempt to pull it all together, so please bear with my stream of conscience manner.

I can confidently say that I learned more this fall than any other time over my college career. My classes challenged me, probed uncomfortably at my assumptions about myself, my community, and my relationship to everyone. Most of all, I continue to struggle with this calling to be with the poor, to be an aware and involved member of my community. I took a course on ethical theory and practical models of interaction at the same time as a social entrepreneurship course, being asked to create a high impact, sustainable social enterprise (more commonly known as a NGO). Then, in November, in the middle of academic insanity, I went to the National Youth Worker conference in Nashville on the way home for Thanksgiving. To my delight, one of the speakers (Shane Claiborne) had been the author of one of our readings in the ethics class (how convenient). So, I gave into this inclination to dive head first into this topic: ecclesial ethics, taking the words of Jesus seriously, and how that was really going to mess up my life. I went to Shane's super seminar, "The Scandal of Grace," at one of the local churches, where the pews were filled with an array of people, all who were itching to learn more from this Simple Way founder and author of The Irresistible Revolution (thesimpleway.org).

Here are some of the notes from his talks that have been keeping me up at night and swirling around in my head. Please keep in mind that these are quotes pulled from hours of talking and dialogue.

-When people ask us if we're Christians, we should say, "What do you think?"
-We are to be a people of hospitality and grace.
-Can you name someone who is poor?
-Be an extremist for love and grace.
-Community helps you absorb suffering
-Some people need to be reminded that they are wretched, but there are others who are perfectly aware they're wretched and need to be reminded that they're beautiful.
and one of my favorites - You can have all the right answers and still be mean.

In one of my final papers, I wrote 15 pages on a poor, disadvantaged, and at-risk in every sense of the term neighborhood that is also shining with life and hope, but plagued by crime, drugs, and poverty. By the way, it is also located in my hometown. More than once during the research and writing, I had to wipe away the tears from my eyes as I read article after article on the history of the area and its demise, how the rest of the city ignored its neighbors. It still haunts me - I was beginning to see my hometown with new eyes - sad and critical, yet hopeful eyes. I have also been attending these vigils in my new city each time someone is murdered in the community. I have learned that God meets me through the poor and in those moments of shared grief and love more clearly than in stiff, pristine sanctuaries where perfect music is so carefully played that I begin to wonder where the kingdom is anymore. Believing, listening, and obeying the words of Jesus is messy and difficult. In Shane's words, living simply is hard as crud.

It hasn't helped that I've been leading a small group on spiritual disciplines, including simplicity, this semester. Is God trying to teach me something? I think so. My current state is one of deep reflection over all I have learned and am learning.

Is God a woman?

I haven't posted in a while. Looks like I'm on a one blog per month rate. Oh well. In the past month, I have made the long trek to school for my 5th semester, started classes, and overcommitted myself to various organizations and events (as always). Last week, there was a day where I was booked solid with class and events from waking up to going to sleep. I was not feeling well. It was one of those, "let me count the hours and minutes until I'm done with today" days. I wasn't looking for inspiration or learning - I just needed to finish the day. That's when I embarked with my class on what you may call a field trip. We loaded into cars, drove into a part of my city I've never been to, and we joined the group forming there in a random lot for a vigil.

In July, a young woman, close to my age, was shot and killed there. I didn't know her ,and I still can't tell you much about her or the accident. But I can tell you that I saw God move in a community at that vigil when I was unprepared for it. Her family members and friends joined the group of locals like us. There was a short message about how even in pain, we can know that the Lord loves us. There was singing, crying, and praying. A time came for anyone to share about the young girl. A few friends and family members said a few things. Then, when her aunt tried to speak, she broke down in tears. I had this urge to run over and hug her, but I was stopped by this sense that it wasn't appropriate, that I shouldn't invade into her private matter. Then, suddenly, a older woman crossed the circle, and wrapped her arms around the crying aunt. We were then told that she had also lost two children to violence. I knew then that she was the only one who had the right to hug her and say, "I know how you feel."

I'm reading this book right now called The Shack. Every person I talk to has a different opinion on it. I've heard people say that it's amazing, a good read, heretical, challenging, awful, and a trend for certain kinds of Christians. All I know is that it is making me think about God and the nature of the trinity again. It's challenging me to answer tough questions in myself about why there is pain in the world. Really how could a loving God let this pain happen? Personally, I have come to terms with that question. C.S. Lewis' The Problem of Pain was helpful, but I still have a difficult time explaining why I'm ok with it to someone who doesn't read the latest theology, someone who is in the midst of pain. In the novel, God is portrayed as an older, black woman whose name is "papa." At the vigil, when the bold woman crossed to circle, I saw God in her. It was a connection of images, but it was also very real and moving.

I had just an hour before spent my social entrepreneurship class dreaming about my business plan to create an NGO to "help" my city, but really, in that moment at the vigil, the people helped me. I saw what God was really all about - stepping across the circle, across the boundary of personal space, across what is comfortable for us, to hold us so dearly and just let us cry. No words necessary.