Reading the Hard Parts...

For some folks, God speaks to them in scriptures. Either the verse itself or the place in the Bible it is located usually. Perhaps it is His way of engaging with folks who enjoy discovering things to give a person the thought, "Read Zephaniah 1-3" and have them read the chapters; (a) not knowing where Zephaniah is in the Bible and (b) not knowing how long it was.

I am one of those people God speaks to in that way. Some times. There have been many a day, I have been led to read the genealogies. Huh???? Or, many times I have been led to read Colossians 6:3, only to get there to find out Colossians has only three sections. In that case, I read 3:6 and it made sense. In context with what I had been reading the past few days.

I write this entry now to say this, that God has been leading me to read a lot of the hard stuff in the Bible. The sections where he talks about wiping out all mankind and killing this person or that person. Psalms has those verses. Zephaniah was filled with them. Usually I cringe and can't keep reading. I don't like this part of the story....I don't understand God in these places. Perhaps it is because I worry for all the faces I see around me each day, who might be at the end of the sword that zephaniah talks about.

Sticking with it though, the book did wrap up quite nicely. He talks about bringing the lame and blind and hurting together after the end. He does look kindly on those who are hurt in some way.

In summation, it dawned on me that the pain I feel for all those known and unknown faces and the worry about what might happen to any one of us really, is a pain that God feels for all His children. Some days, I wish that He chooses everyone and no one dies apart from God and I realize He wants that too.

Half Full, Half Empty...One Tree Does Not a Forest Make?

This photo was taken by David Brown on Flickr.com in 2008.

I look at it and see that it is half full and you look at it and see it is half empty. It is equally both because it is in how each of us sees it.

I look out at a landscape and focus on the tree in front of me, doting on it's pine needles and cones, crooked branches, peeling bark, arching toward the sky. You look out at this same landscape and see all the trees at once, declaring it to be a forest. I don't see the forest, I see the tree. It is the same thing at once.

It is in how we see it that matters.

Pastor John Secrest put my friend to work this Sunday. There she was, handing out Small Group flyers to people as they entered WHS. She looked good, not as unhappy as when I last saw her at church. Though later on in the service, I would see her get up with all her bags from the front row and go up the aisle then return to sit down a while later.

I reached out to her, making small talk, greeting her. Her name is Terri. She responded angrily to my attempt to empathize, which took a bit of time to realize. It's OK. You did nothing wrong. Just keeping reaching out. Keep loving her.

Honestly, I am super grateful that God put her on other folks heart. It makes me thankful for my church community. It always has- how we embrace those who are difficult to love, whatever the reason. So, though Terri gets up and walks out of service or yells at me when I am trying to be nice- she keeps coming back and people keep enfolding her in.

So, let's do this. Compassion can only come from the creator of compassion Himself. Let's seek to pour mercy and compassion and love out, like the woman poured the perfume on Jesus' feet. Let's slather people in it, regardless of their response. Let's have tough skins and not be so easily wounded and retreat in to our shells when it's not easy.

For if brothers and sisters can keep going in the face of death and injury, we can keep going in the face of uncomfortable moments and uneasy conversations. We can keep going when people talk too much or talk openly about their brokenness in detail or yell at us when we are trying to be nice or don't get us and ignore our requests or when we perceive the other to be _______________(you fill in the blank).

Mental Illness and the Church

Googling the two words above produces a ton of pages on the topic. From medical journals to blogs, from church websites to nonprofit websites, from university studies to anecdotal stories- the list is endless.

I googled this just now because the Lord has alternately challenged me with jobs, relationships, divine appointments, where the person/people I am relating with has mental health issues. But, I cry to God, "I do not know how to do this." "The river is so wide and my boat is so small." Can't I stick with children? But, no, He puts who He puts in my path for a reason. "Well then God, I need your guidance on this matter because it is not easy. It is like you asking Peter to walk on the water toward you. How Lord? How?"

Tonight at church, God burdened me to pray for a woman three rows up and when she arose to leave, I thought to follow her but then I was afraid to stand up mid-sermon and so I battled this decision for a while. Go or stay? Finally, it is clear to me- Just get up and go. So, I do. I go to the bathroom and there she is.

Terri is her name and she is changing clothes. We chat about the sermon and how she would've liked them to include, "God loves all people and nature including animals." She tells me about her life and about how she found a place to stay for tonight and how she wouldn't mind if it became a relationship even though she met him on the street. She tells me about how she used to have a home and opened it for the homeless. She is rambling. I listen, acknowledge her anger toward others maltreatment of her and others like her - "Those Who Carry Bags". I offer to pray and she declines and goes back in to service to which I follow her. She moves from sitting next to me back to her original seat.

So, what to do now? Keep praying but at this point, I can't hear God easily and the sermon, a historical overview of our church, which I have heard before and my feet are tapping, people around me are leaving, and still Terry stays. Finally, I can't take it and so I head for the bathroom then lobby. Praying. I don't know what to do. I never know what to do in these moments. Then, there she is, in front of me, saying "Goodbye" and leaving and I tell her I'll pray for her and she is thankful and I give her my name in case she wants to pray for me you know.

Now, at home on the computer, I type this out, if for anything to say this, "God loves the mentally ill even when we don't know how to. God will lead us and often times the issue is in the spiritual realm even though it is a physical issue. God was there tonight even though I felt blind as I proceeded forth. Terry is loved and it is my job to share that love with her no matter how she responds. What does it look like? It all depends on you and it all depends on me but I know that He is the only one who can infuse was with the capacity to love. I am a weak, self-centered person who is prone to want feedback and easy responses when I relate to others. I want to follow the plan and have the other person respond appropriately and ne'er does it happen that way. It happens as it does and will. It is my job to listen, be available, be willing to break the structure and demonstrate love in whatever way I can."

This is for us all to do. Shower love on those around us. Believe in the impossible that He can break through the layers that bind people. Be willing to not do it as its always been done and listen to Him who does guide us. For more thoughts, check out: and the book, "Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire" by Jim Cymbalta

No one should be bought or sold. Ever.

Even if there is precedent.

Even if we are desperate.

Even if the person consents to it.

Even if the transaction is legal.

Even if the person doesn't see themselves as being bought or sold.

Even if one calls it a "job".

This is not what we were made for. This is not part of the plan. It has come about over time. But, it doesn't have to be. Nothing has to be the way it is just because it is. We can always dream. Always hope. Always persevere. Faith is the belief in things unseen.

Jen-Kha

It's been almost two months since our dear friend, Jenni B, passed away. She passed Sunday evening on August 15th after a long battle with cancer. Her family was around her and a group of friends from church were able to gather and worship and pray with her in the final moments before she passed.

Jen hadn't been able to join us for over a year at GLO or at Warehouse as her physical health deteriorated each month. We made many attempts to visit with her and bring Warehouse to her over the months; some of these visits worked out and produced lasting memories for those of us given the opportunity to fellowship with her and her mother, Sharon. Many of our plans did not work out as she was sleeping or sick or not up for visitors.

Jen-Kha was a servant to the end - one of our last visits as a GLO group to see her in the hospital in July had her telling us about ministering to a patient in the room next to hers - a mother with terminal brain cancer and 3 young children at home. Jen was always on the lookout for how she could serve others and how she could show them His Light. Even when she was struggling herself.

We had the opportunity to be a friend to her and of her and serve alongside her and learn. Jesus showed up in some amazing ways this summer. As we embraced the idea of breaking bread together, praying and worshipping and seeing God show up, He did. He showed up and He moved in our lives, the Bloch's lives, and in ways that won't be revealed to us for a long, long time. He taught us about waiting and about asking in faith and about worshipping in the face of the confusing and about loving and serving together and about letting go of control. He is the one who heals, not us and our amazing prayers.

Her service on Tuesday night was a testimony to her life. Her mother was so moved by God that she spoke compelling all to heed the call of Christ to be fishers of people wherever we are and passionately desire to do so. To seek Him and be filled with His Light so that wherever we go, others see that light.

Four Years Later, A Reflection

These photographs were taken by Rachel Snodderly, who is now working with refugee children and their families on the Thai-Burmese border. She was born with a big heart that gets bigger every day.

In 2006, a group of us went to Cambodia for the first summer of the World Relief Cambodia-U.S. Church partnerships Summer ESL Program. We went to serve as English language instructors for the World Relief staff in the provinces of Kampong Cham and Kampong Thom. There were 10 of us from our church and at the end our Global Outreach Pastor and a video team joined us in Phnomh Penh to create a video storybook for our church back home.

Part of our journey that final weekend was to the Tuol Sleng Prison in central PP and then on to the Killing Fields Memorial site outside of town. The photograph you see is from Tuol Sleng- a former school turned detention facility that the Khmer Rouge army set up to imprison and torture people they believed to be traitors or enemies of the new regime.

These are children. Some of them were the exact same age as I was when they died (2-4 years old). Most likely brought here with their parents/family members. The KR took photographs of all detainees that came through their facility. Most of the people are believed to have died there, at the hands of the KR or by starvation, disease, and malnutrition. Those who died were then taken by trucks out to the site of the Killing Fields memorial, Wat ???, and buried.

Today, you can pay a small fee to have a survivor take you on a tour of either site. They will show you pictures and tell you stories in graphic detail about what one human being did to another, in the name of some fabricated ideology.

That day we went by van outside the city on the bumpy dirt roads, we encountered a young boy, one who looked like the many children in this photo. He was trying to sell us soda, all in Khmer of course. He had no shoes on and was very thin. But, he was smiling. At one point, one of the team members suggested we form a prayer circle. This young boy came up behind us, staring quizzicly, when two of the team members quietly unjoined hands and rejoined behind him and then we prayed in English for this boy. Another woman on the team, who had survived that period in Cambodia with her family and made it to the U.S., slid off her sandals and gave them to the boy who smiled at her.

We then headed off home, my teammate rode piggy back across the field on another teammate, smiling at the young boy, sharing the bit of Khmer that we knew with him.

This photo and this memory are what came back to me this morning and prompted me to write. For it is in those moments of connection, of looking in to the eyes of another person, and knowing that we are joined together, we are unified, sharing a common bond despite all those things which seemingly separate us. And, in the simplicity and quietness of our connections, we are powerful beyond measure because we have the one who created us all holding us together, connecting us, unifying us.

May we continue to seek to be fishermen, who go about their duties with familiarity and loyalty and consistency and know that the one who first loved us loves all of His creation. He even loves that which was in those KR soldiers that was not corrupted, that part of their heart no matter how small or broken.