Clarity in a polluted world

An unbelievable blue sky, of the deepest blue and the power of the sun multiplied many times over as it reflected off the snow, made for unusual and powerful clarity in a place that is mostly know for it's amazingly bad air . . . pollution is a terrible factor in our daily lives. Air pollution that is . . . but we also have the moral variety as well. Soul ripping pornography on TV and every newsstand, a culture stripped of grace, racial and ethnic hatred of immense proportions, a country rife with jealousy and suspicions of every type, and an obsession with material things that defies belief. This is the hairy armpit, its where I live, Jesus is desperately needed here.

But today I got above all of that, literally. I spent the day at 5600 feet elevation on the ski slopes. We got above all of the air pollution, and the sky was so amazingly clear that I was sure I could see the throne room of the Living God. It was glorious. I had forgotten that the world could be such a beautiful place.

















But this blog is more about the moral pollution that living in this world involves and the appropriate Christian response. I find it consistently fascinating and discouraging that almost every Christian organization in the world today (as well as the non-christian religions) make a standard of rules to which they expect everyone to follow. From where I am sitting after 27 years in the Kingdom of God, these standards are always "Jesus and something else." It's really depressing how we keep adding to the scriptures.

The moral pollution that I mentioned earlier I can understand . . . it's normal for the unredeemed world to be . . . well . . . unredeemed. It gets me though when we Christians add all these "extras" to the simple Gospel of Jesus Christ . . . which is Jesus plus nothing. Last week I was getting hammered by a local missionary because essentially I was not agreeing that the local pastors and people in the National Church abstain from alcoholic beverages. How can we insist on more than the Holy Scriptures insist on? (At some point one must come to grip with the fact that the living Son of God made high quality wine for all to enjoy). Of course I refused to say that all drinking is a sin for the simple fact that Scripture never says that either. Here we would have to ban communion as well were we to take this position since we use wine in our celebration of the Lord's supper. (Then again us using grape juice instead of wine is another one of those additions)

Then another missionary reamed me for not challenging the mild heresies of one of the ladies in our International Church. They insisted that I was a liberal and I did not believe in the absolute inerrancy of Scripture. To which I replied that I in fact do hold to an inerrant view of God's Holy Word, but I do not hold to an inerrant understanding of God's Word on our part. I still do not think that these people were happy with me in the end. I am willing to let the Word of God say what it says , and I am willing to let it not say what it does not say.

The moral pollution in this world is what Jesus came to set us free from and He is stilling willing to do so, but then with the most unimaginable arrogance, we add rules, make policies, and draw lines of man-made holiness in the sand, and it seems that God now needs to set us free from ourselves too. Its hard to have clarity in a polluted world.

the little drummer girl

She wants to be a drummer. She wants to be a drummer in our worship band. She is 13 years old, barely. She is smart and sassy, with the endless optimism of youth. Finally she wrangled an audition out of me. So today we are got together and I played out the Sunday set and she has only one problem really that I can see . . . she seems to have no rhythm.

Now a drummer with no rhythm is a problem. It is the underlying talent in playing the drums. Can you teach rhythm? Well I tried a bit today (we will see if she improves), and told her that keeping a rock steady beat through the entire song is what I need more than anything else. It is the primary service of a drummer. Flash and cymbals I can live without, but someone to keep us at a steady pace . . . that would enhance our whole performance significantly.

Driving home (in a hurry since I have guests coming and Brenda is out of town, I am cooking) I was thinking that God pretty much seeks the same thing from me, that I seek in the new drummer chick, a steady pace, an unwavering heartbeat for the King and the Kingdom. Now to wonder, . . . do I have rhythm?

"you are a control freak"

That is what Emma said to me. I don’t think she meant it as a compliment. But what she said does not jive with the way that I perceive myself, and so I asked my boss and he was more diplomatic than Emma, he said that when something was important to me, that I kept pressure on it until I got it done satisfactory manner. Still not sure of this control-freak status that Emma had assigned to me, I ask my lovely bride of 20 plus years, what she thought, “Brenda, am I a control freak?”

You would think that this should be a yes or no question. I found that answering this question was more complex than that, and that means that I am more complex than a simple yes or no. Brenda remarked that no I was not a control freak in that I had to have a finger in every pie; that I regularly give ministry away and recruit people actively to be involved and that I give away responsibilities. Yet, yes I am a control freak in the sense that I want what is done to be done well, and that that tenacious pattern could easily been seen by others to be control-freaky.

I was OK with this feedback from Mark and Brenda, because quality control is one thing; keeping everyone and everything under your thumb or not giving ministry away are entirely something else. I want to be the first, and I can’t stand the second in anyone.

It is risky to ask people such open-ended questions, because . . . of course . . . you have no control of the answer or feedback that you are going to get. Yet if you are not open to a feedback loop, then you are most certainly stuck in whatever rut you have dug for yourself. Frankly I am glad that Brenda, Mark and Emma love me enough to tell me what I am, and where I need some reflection. Now if only I can be smart enough to change what needs to be changed.

The reason I asked Brenda and Mark was because they were strong enough to have already asked me to be a part of their feedback loop.

depersonalization

Do you ever feel, that input always exceeds output or that you are in perpetual motion yet always craving rest or that your level of caring cannot be sustained in the absence of results or that you have lost the sense that what you do is important or that you don’t have enough feelings left for human beings to do anything for them out of pity or that you have hurry sickness??????

These are all symptoms of depersonalization or better known as burnout . Its where “ . . . happiness equals reality divided by expectations” and it is the “gap between expectation and reward.” Long story short, the pace of our Western lives is insane . . . in a study between American professors and Mexican university professors, the Mexican burnout rate was much lower . . . and the researchers concluded that it was because they came home to eat at noon, saw their families and took a rest. The pace was much more sustainable in the lives of the Mexican professors.

Now where I grew up, they would just be called lazy because they didn’t go go go go go go and go. No wonder people in my family die at the ripe old age of 60. The unrelenting pressure of go go go go go has its price. My friend asked me this week if I felt like the mission put that kind of stress and pressure on me, and I told him no, that it comes from within.

Thus I am practicing the word “no” and “I can’t” and “you will have to find someone else” and so on and so forth. So far I have been having little success. Maybe I should become a vegetarian . . . that seems easier. Burning out . . . is it in my genes?

the bible reading atheist

Boijan is just so. He consistently and faithfully states his opposition to the idea that God exists in any form, and in fact, declared last night in Brenda’s English class that one of his primary goals in life was to debunk all religious belief.

Yet he comes to an openly evangelisticly-oriented English class which uses the Bible as its only textbook and meets in an Evangelical church! Brenda always declares loudly and clearly at the beginning of her English class cycles, “if you have a problem reading the bible or coming to a protestant church, then this class is not for you.” Boijan is in his fifth level with Brenda’s class!

Brenda often tells Boijan that she is praying for him, and he says, “don’t waste your time.” Occasionally Boijan will ask Brenda to pray to God for him to receive certain things, like most recently, to win the Apartment Lottery. Boijan did not win the apartment so thus once again he insists that God does not exists.

Then Brenda proceeded to tell Boijan of Amy Carmichael who as a child had prayed that her brown eyes would be made blue. Of course God did not answer that prayer either, and Amy found that in her years (55 without a furlough!) in India, having blue eyes would have made life a 1000 times more difficult. By the time Brenda finished telling the story (to Boijan), the whole class had stopped what they were doing and were listening carefully. Who knows what is going on with Boijan, the devout atheist who reads the bible twice a week for years now in Brenda’s English class? God’s word is powerful and sharper than any two-edged sword . . . may it cut the blindness from Boijan’s heart and free him up to be a member of God’s family.

While this story from Amy Carmichael’s childhood is powerful and moving, it has not nearly the thunder as do some of her adult statements. The one I find most true and most difficult and maddeningly painful is what she said in response to a young lady who wrote her a letter and asked Amy “what is missionary life like?” to which Amy replied “Missionary life is simply a chance to die.” In our modern world of me, I guess that concept is no less strange than an atheist who reads the bible.

666 emails

Nine emails, that is how many emails I answer per hour somedays - an email every 6.66 minutes. They are about this set of songs, those sermons, that building team, this project, that meeting, this committee, etc, etc. I wonder how God perceives this endless never-completed task we call work? There are several interesting overlaps between Communism and Christianity that I have discovered in life. And one of the main ideas that we share a kinship for is the idea that work is, in and of itself, virtuous.

When we lived in Russia, you would see these huge (everything was done on a grand scale in Russia) banners and marquees on factories, filled with propaganda about how the workers rule and are the most valuable people in society, etc, etc. And in the church it seems that we value nothing, as much as we value hard work, effort, and lets burn-out for Jesus and all that jazz. But burnout by definition means depleting yourself . We think people in “caring professions” experience burnout to a far higher degree than do other professions, because such people are idealists, and that makes us prone to disillusionment. I could easily be the master of disillusionment. But what I just stated is not accurate, the caring professions do not burn out more than other professions - - they just have been studied much more in relationship to burnout, than have other professions. I read one statistic today that states that lawyers in New York City leave their firms at the rate of 36% per year! (The assumption being that most of them don’t go to any other firm)

The problem is that work and home have crossed over one another so much in ministry that there are no boundaries any longer. Perhaps there never were. Schaufeli uses this phrase work-home interference to describe the phenomena of work and home crossing over into one another’s spheres and blurring the lines, and boundaries of life. It’s that aspect of ministry when you get a call during your family dinner, or people drop over for counseling when you are having your bedtime story with your children, or in our case having your work place and home being one and the same place.

Granted the whole idea of a 40 hour work week, and probably the concept of family time as well, is strictly a recent Western idea that can show no scripture and verse for support. And if you get outside of Western zip-codes, finding modern day sweat shops is an easy thing to do. Hey where unemployment exceeds 40%, if you don’t like the hours - then fine go home because there are six more people just waiting to take your place; e.g. the worker doesn’t have a chance.

I just wonder if our work days, work pace, work commitment, work attitude, work mentality and workaholism bring honor and glory to God? And if it doesn’t then why do we continue? And if does, why don’t we work more? This is a tough subject and one that is becoming more of an issue for me as I get older . . . it is much more taxing to keep up those same hours now, than it was when I was 20 years younger. I guess the real question is, does He want me too? Another person defined burnout as “when we wake up one morning and realize that what we’re doing has appalling little value” and when that happens in the church it is far more than burnout, it is a crisis in faith.

I might need to disconnect for a while and take a break.

four beggars and a leg hugger

Being accosted by gypsy beggars is an experience every person in the world should have at least once in life. There is nothing quite like it anywhere. On this particular evening, I had just spend a glorious night at the symphony with friends (oh Beethoven’s 5th Piano concerto almost brought tears to my eyes) and afterwards we went out for drinks.

Two hours later, everyone was satisfied with the social discourse of the evening and were ready to head home. So as we departed the bar, we started to break up into individual groups heading different directions. Both Lejla the violinist and Jovitsa the viola player offered me rides home but I was feeling like a good walk, so I declined both offers and started up the boulevard toward the old train station.

Then the attack came. Out of nowhere I was surrounded by five gypsy kids between the ages of 3 years old to maybe 12 years old. They had been trying to stay warm under a bench and a tree on the boulevard, when they saw this fat juicy target (me) walking down the street by himself, they launched themselves at me.

I immediately grabbed my wallet, so that it would not develop wings and fly away, and I told them all roughly (which is the only language they know and understand) to go away and leave me in peace. The littlest fellow promptly wraps himself around my leg like a koala bear, so that I cannot escape. I finally peel him/her off of me and told him/her that I would feed him/her to the next available dog (people here have an great and unnatural fear of dogs) if he/she grabbed my leg again.

That took the wind out of most of their sails and they all quit following me, except one boy. “I just want to have some bread to eat, please mister I just want some bread to eat!” he said over and over. With the pleasurable notes of Beethoven still stirring in my mind, I suddenly stopped walking, and the gypsy boy jumped away from me, expecting that I would hit him. Instead of bopping him up the side of his head, I asked him, “Do you want bread? Really truly? Or do you want money?” Now there is only one right answer here, and the young fellow intuited that right quickly, and said bread. So I changed direction and headed toward a bakery.

Thus seeing that I was actually intending to purchase real bread, (it must have been the symphony), the boy quickly started to re-negotiate. “Oh mister can we have a sandwich instead?” What do I care? Sure a sandwich it is. I could not find a sandwich shop open since it was after midnight by this time, but my new little leech found one right away and all but dragged me there. Now I bought the gypsy boy four sandwiches while he stood outside the cafe with his face pressed up against the window staring with big eyes as the man behind the counter made the sandwiches. And all the while the cook talked with the waiter about what a fool I was for buying these little ragamuffins some of the shop’s fine cuisine. I on the other hand, was hearing the fine notes of Beethoven floating through my soul and enjoying the movement in my heart . . . in other words, the surly cook was not about to shatter my pleasure in the evening.

Finally sandwiches in hand, I exited the sandwich shoppe and the gypsy boy grabs the bag out of my hand.

I hope that you were not expecting him to say thank you, for I surely was not. He did say something though, he said, “hey mister, how about a drink . . . .” And with a howl of genuine laughter at his audacity and bravo, I resumed my walk in the dark.

spontaneous combustion

Here, you will throw away three years of work in a heartbeat, because the moment rules. This is spontaneous combustion ministry. You have never met a culture like this one. Brenda is so sick, yet she has 34 women leaders from all over Macedonia coming to town today for the very first ENTRUST seminar. Brenda has been dreaming about this, working on this, translating for this, developing this . . . for three years. Yet she is so sick that she can hardly get out of bed or stand up.

So as we were discussing this sick leader, e.g. my wife, the president’s wife suggested that we postpone the weekend, or rather move it to another weekend. Although people all over the country had re-arranged their lives in order to come here for two days, although mountains of materials have been purchased, although tons of food has been bought, although we have mobilized dozens of people to pull this conference off, N. was willing to change the lives of 50 plus people, simply because Brenda was sicker than a dog.

What N. was suggesting has happen countless times to us over the years here. A meeting that has been planned for months, can be cancelled in a moments notice if any minor thing comes up, because in this culture, the urgency of the immediate is so high. Spontaneous reaction to every little thing that calls on the phone or shows up at your door, burns up every type of planning that you could possibly envision . . . I know, because I am the planner dude. Spontaneous in work is an anathema to me. In my personal life its OK, but in work, never. Well, until the Balkans happened.

It is more than a bit flabbergasting to see how willing leaders are to forfeit years of work in the stress of the moment. There is little doubt about why it is nearly impossible to have continuity in work and strategy. This is the bad side of spontaneous combustion in ministry. You can’t measure anything concrete, because you can’t sustain or strategize anything . . . well at least in a Western manner.

The good side of it is this, that success or failure is measured only by the relational consequences, and nothing else. How much time, money, years, effort, strategy, nor materials matters hardly at all. The simple fact is that N. cares more about Brenda in the moment than she does about all the years of work that have gone into this seminar.

How do you measure success or failure in this context? Only by your relationships. Yet we come here with our denomination, our plans, our personnel, our mandate, our resources, our knowledge, our ideas, our strategies . . . . and frankly they are all completely useless without relationship . . . continuous careful attention to community and relationship. While my culture is not wired this way, and consequently neither am I, it seems apparent that God is and I need to be.

Now if I can only stop working and producing long enough to hang out and enjoy, I may yet be saved.

the blind man wants a laptop

Some days truth is stranger than fiction. This week I have already written about G. our triple amputee and her trials, and then today I get a call from V. who has been blind from birth. As you can see, our church is rather full of the physically challenged, and they need lots of help.

But I have never had a blind man ask me to buy him a computer before. Of course, blind or not, V. is as human as the rest of us and he not only wants a computer, he wants a laptop computer! I said to him, “V. why do you need a laptop, they cost 6 times as much as a desktop? (local prices are quite different than what you can purchase at Circuit City) ”Well I need to run this program on the computer that will read books to me“ he replies. ”That still does not explain to me why you need a laptop rather than a desktop“ I patiently explain to him. ”And by the way, what configuration do you need to run this program?“ I innocently asked.

Of course V. doesn’t know what a configuration is, much less what RAM, HD or GhZ mean. Think of trying to explain a computer to your great great grandparents, who have actually never seen a computer! Now do this in your third language . . . needless to say, other people who were in my office were howling when I tried to explain to V. that yes indeed computers do have mice. I was trying to help him, but he thought I was just trying to get out of buying a computer for him.

I asked him who would start the program for him? He said that he would himself. I said, ”V. I hate to tell you this, but you are blind. You can’t see the start button on the screen.“ ”There are buttons on the screen?“ he asks in wonderment. ”Yes, you move the mouse to the Start button (I am assuming this is a Windoze variety) and click the button.“ I said. ”Why do you need mice to click buttons on a screen?“ he guilelessly asks me.

Long long long conversation short, I finally wrangled out of him that he wanted a laptop instead of a desktop, because someone had told him that desktops were bigger. I once again reminded him that he wouldn’t be seeing the darn thing anyways, so what did it matter?? He then asked me, ”How big exactly is a desktop?“ Mother of St. Peter, how do you answer that to a blind man???? So finally after a conference with the people in my office, we decided to tell him that a desktop was about the same size as a TV. That seemed to satisfy him, though he has never seen a TV either.

The conversation went on for much longer, as I tried to explain that the man wasn’t tell him the exact truth when he said that the program would run on any computer . . . you don’t even want to know how this part of the conversation went.

As funny as this exotic conversation was, I am thinking that God must feel very much the same with me in our prayer conversations. I ask for things without remotely understanding the real issues at play, and then I get a bit angry with God when He doesn’t immediately give me what I want. Or like V. I asked with utter confidence for healing, stuff, or perceived needs without an inkling of genuine understanding about the end result. Not only that, but I am usually certain that I know more than God does about whatever the topic under discussion is about.

Perhaps what God wants from me is simple, real, unshakeable, unbreakable, never-ending trust. Just like I needed V. to trust me that I knew what I was talking about when it comes to computers and how that impacted his wants and needs. Sadly I am much more like V. the blind dude, than the straightforward trusting fellow that God wants me to be.

free will versus "unwill"

We Westerners are big on believing that we shape our own destinies, our own futures, our own worlds, our own lives. For instance it would be typically American to think that I choose Harley Davidson over any variety of rice burners. But in reality our American culture highly promotes Hogs over ricers because they are American made. Thus Volf would argue that I have been "made into" a Harley guy. Objective reality is that I have enjoyed every single motorcycle I have ever owned in my life and the overwhelming majority of those motorcycles have been made in Japan. But in America right now, there is simply something ultra cool about owning a Harley. So I do.

But did I exercise free will in this purchase, in this desire, in this decision? Luther said that someone was always riding us, either the devil or God Himself. Yet does the devil or God chose for us? Do they compel us to a certain action? (Luther called this possibility "unwill") Or tempt us? (Or if you prefer a more palatable term as it relates to God - does He draw us to a certain path?) Depending on the level of influence/power you ascribe these two characters in your decision-making will determine how you answer this question. But even if we are not physically and emotionally forced by someone, it still may be a mistake to think that you are autonomous and authentically making independent decisions.

We are complicated creatures and are pulled in many ways, all at the very same time. My education pulls at me all the time. This is the side of me that is logical, methodical, focused on the facts, data, reality and frankly is a bit arrogant and very confident. My roots pull at me all the time. This is the side of me that is ferociously independent, emotional, irrational, passionate, focused on how I feel and what I want, and is very insecure and afraid. In between those two lie my experience in life, and it is the rubber band that keeps trying to integrate the two.

My old man (pre-Christ) pulls at me everyday. It is the self that I am valiantly putting to death each day, and the weapon it fights me with is self-absorbtion. Preoccupation with myself is the key to the old man's power. My new man (since-Christ) pulls at me everyday. It is the self that I most want to realize and live out. Its power lies in giving freely of all that I have. It is focused on others. Preoccupation with people is where it thrives best. In between these two forces lies Christ on a cross. He is the Power that diminishes one and builds the other.

These four real genuine elements of who I am, compete at all times for primary position. They are far too intertwined to simply make a straightforward and simple decision. They influence me, even when I don't realize it. They drive me even when I don't want them to. It is not a matter of simply deciding that one or the other is primary. It seems to be a matter of transformation (Romans 12:1) more than free will. Yet if free will is what I wish for, this transformation becomes all the more important, because it is only through Christ transforming these other elements in me (notice I did not say removing them, but rather transforming them) that I may find the release from these four holds on me (and you) in order to finally decide for myself.

the worst monsters of the 21st century

A dear little lady in our church called them that! Mind you she is a triple amputee and she can say this about these folks. It never fails, just when you reach what you consider to be the bottom of whatever state of existence has come your way in life . . . there is always, always someone who has it worse. And this little lady has it the worst of all worst.

She has one real leg, and no arms at all. She was recently in the hospital with the same flu everyone and their two nieces have in this part of the world. She has one leg. Finally she was able to press the button for the nurse to come with her chin, because she is dehydrated and is terribly thirsty . . .at long last the nurse shows up and when our dear friend asks for a glass of water, the nurse agrees to get her a glass of water, only if our friend will pay her a bribe . . . slide her some extra money under the table! While this happens to G. regularly . . . people taking advantage of the fact that she is a triple amputee, these are not "the worse monsters of the 21st century."

The worse monsters of the 21st century according to G. are people like she met last week at a new clinic she is trying to receive medical attention at. She arrived there, and there is this long line. Did I mention she has one leg? Thus she cannot stand but for very short periods of time. So she walks to the front of the line, and the lady there all but attacks her and let's her know that she will have to wait in line like everyone else. G. is not opposed to waiting, but shoot, you gotta give her a place to sit! Not a chance. The lady says, I bet you aren't even a real cripple! Those people, according to G. are "the worse monsters of the 21st century." Welcome to medical care in Eastern Europe. Be very very thankful for the medical care you can get wherever you are. And people wonder why I call it the hairy armpit.

I am just afraid we do this in the church to the spiritually crippled that come through our doors. Wanting them to be better before they even meet the Doctor/Savior. To not really be crippled at all. I am afraid that we don't facilitate them because they are the drug addicts and those without jobs and all those people will be a drain on the churches finances or some monstrous accusation like that. As hard as it may be, I need to remember that we are here for the cripples. And let's face it, I am just one prayer of forgiveness away from being one myself.

We are the champions!

I think I have generated enough flame-producing blogs this week, so I thought perhaps I should try for something safe? Nah. Who wants safe? And I think I have written enough blogs this week that are threatening to those people I genuinely like, so I thought that I would explain to you that we are the champions. "We" meaning the CMA . . . "champions" meaning in the area of our official workers.

About three months ago, we had an opportunity drop out of heaven to plant/begin/lead an International Church. You can see our beginning efforts here. It was the most instant church I have ever been a part of, and Brenda and I have planted several . . . in different countries no less. But this was instant church. Of course our travel schedules do not lend to us being here every week . . . that is not how ministry happens in a regional approach. So I began to look for others to assist us in leading this congregation in various ways. I actually had/have fairly low expectations and requirements . . . I am pretty big on the priesthood of all believers . . . and I have been shockingly disappointed in who other organizations send to this part of the world!

Just about the only people who met my minimal requirements for leadership involvement in this new congregation were our CMA team members! And of course our CMA personnel are way over qualified compared to others. We are simply the champions. The CMA sends out the best people, the most experienced people, to most trained people, the most educated people and the most well rounded people of any organization. That is a big statement, but I believe that the last three months have taught me that if nothing else.

Missions organizations have requirements . . . but few they be I have discovered, in most organizations. Let me tell you how this has worked out. Three months ago I could have named you perhaps five missionaries total in the country that I work in . . . now I know over 45! The International Church has had what we call a "missionary ghetto" effect. These people come in waves some Sundays (not every Sunday) to participate in our English worship, and hear an English message. At first I was thrilled that these folks were coming, because I thought I could recruit some leadership folks (with my minimal requirements remember) from among them. And that is when I discovered the most amazing truth. Almost none of them have theological training (though they are giving it to others), almost none of them are ordained (which means that their parent organization or church has not recognized them as being set aside by God for ministry) and most importantly, only one out of the entire bunch has ever pastored a church in North America! Your CMA team excepted of course, because all three of these minimal requirements, are true of all CMA personnel here in the Hairy Armpit! But how can Missional Organizations expect to plant churches with people who don't understand how a church functions in the beginning? But that is exactly what most of these 45 missionaries are trying to do in the Hairy Armpit! Amazing!

Frankly I do not know what I would have done (besides quit immediately, and I still may) without our CMA team here, our Field Director especially. Just the insight and understanding that comes from having been a pastor is priceless when you are given an instant church to lead! The CMA sends out the best and the brightest, and I really appreciate this aspect of our organization . . . now more than ever! We are the champions in terms of personnel. I see this in my CMA co-workers on other Fields as well. I always have to stay on my toes with them, because most of them are smarter and wiser than I am. I learn so much from them each time I have the opportunity to work with them on a team or cross-pollinate with them at a transition point in the boarding school cycle. Thank you Lord for the CMA! Now I wonder . . . can the best become better?

Some advantages of boarding school

The most significant event that boarding schools may offer is the chance for the parents to sit down together (I am talking about from our organization here) and cross-pollinate one another. There is nothing quite as healthy and as satisfying as discussing, agreeing and disagreeing about the work that we are all involved in. What is even more fascinating is how encouraging it is to discover that your frustrations, struggles and challenges are shared by almost one and all. There is some form of deep comfort in that.

For instance, on this trip to Black Forest Academy thus far I have learned that a leader on another Field is struggling with many of the same issues that plague me in terms of job-related issues and stage of life issues.

Another missionary and I agreed together that the Western church spends way too much money on herself and gives far too little to the rest of the body of Christ! Moreover that the CMA should officially revisit her Victorian-era missiology and begin supporting the work and the workers around the world. (we currently have a policy of not supporting national workers)

Another missionary and I agreed on this trip that the CMA could be a far more powerful organization were we Christo-centric, rather than Ecclesio-centric in our theology/missiology/practice. This would greatly expand our influence in the Kingdom of God rather than keeping us focused only on church planting activities. There are many powerful reasons for moving in this direction (not the least of which is that church planting is never mentioned in the scriptures). Best of all being Christo-centric does not inhibit us from planting churches too, yet it opens many other doors and avenues to accomplishing the Great Commission, which incidentally is making disciples, not planting churches.

Another missionary and I agreed that our parent organization consistently confuses administration with leadership. What this means is that our organization chooses the safest people to be administrators and then we call what they do each day (administrate the organization) leadership. Leadership is sometimes administrative granted, but mostly it is something completely other. Leadership is where the risk-takers and the "infantry" (as my friend called them) live. It has high risk of failure, it is usually resisted, usually makes waves, it is entrepreneurial and chancy, and its where our best ideas come from -- in practice. Administrators are rarely those people, because our organization rarely chooses such people to administrate because they are way too risky, and plus frankly, none of them would take the current administration roles to begin with . . . boring. At the same time, we consistently see the administration role framed as a leadership role. It certainly could be, but most often isn't.

These are a sampling of the currents running through our missionaries. It was a bit shocking to discover that there is far more continuity among the grunt missionaries than I ever thought. We weren't always making a judgment, but rather simply agreeing that this is what is, in our organization. There is a good reason for boarding schools after all.

still hating? Part three and the last

This is a heart blog . . .

Much of the missionary kid boarding school philosophy is built upon two erroneous presuppositions; one that kids at home hinder ministry, two that the task is more important than the kids themselves (although the later one is framed in much milder language generally, e.g. that the task of world evangelism is so important than everyone must make sacrifices, etc, etc).

Now granted, my parent organization finally came into the 20th century and offers their missionaries multiple mk educational options . . . now, but that is a recent innovation. But back in the not so recent past, we were required to send our kids to boarding school . . . under the pretense of it being the best decision for the kids. The reality was that the view at the top of our leadership pinnacle was that kids got in the way of missionaries working hard . . . and honestly, they do.

That's right, they do. You can't work 72-80 hour weeks when you have kids at home. But seriously, this blog is not about the culpability of my parent organization in requiring us to send our little six year old first graders to boarding school two time zones away. This blog is a recrimination of the parents that allowed this behavior to be foisted on their families and especially on their children. I am upset wih me, not the CMA.

I am upset with my acceptance of a missiology, ecclesiology, theology and eschatology than believes that the sacrifice inflicted upon families for the sake of evangelizing and church planting is more important than the families themselves.

I am upset with my weakness of character that allowed my obviously notreadyforboardingschool child be shipped out to boarding school at the age of six years old. He was back home by the half way point of the year . . . and we were home on early home assignment by that summer, because something was clearly defective in Brenda and I as parents since we had a child who was not boarding school friendly. The mission was right, we were defective . . . not because my child did not suceed at boarding school, but because I allowed him to go when he was so clearly not ready. Bad parenting Dave!

I am upset that I exchanged their childhoods for the cause. Now I will say the cause has value . . . but it is not worthy (often) of the price it extracts. Their childhoods are gone forever. The Cause will always be here, its like the poor in the New Testament - always with us.

Most of all I regret that they had to move so often, go to so many different schools, have so few stable relationships in their lives. What a loss. Yes they did make some gains . . . but the verdict remains out on the value of those potential gains, while the losses pile up.

My painfully learned wisdom to those who would like to learn from my mistakes, is do what is right for your child, not what is right for your organization or the cause.

The days I hate God part two

Well I admitted readily enough yesterday that there are moments that it feels like I hate God or at the least I hate what He requires of me. So the typical question is why keep doing this?

Well it is a good question and one I wish had a simple answer to . . . its much like the mother who gives up the child that she loves, for the good of the child not thinking too much about the loss that the child's absence will cause the parent. Miroslav Volf speaks about this in his latest book Free of Charge . . . you should read this book.

Some would argue that God allows/permits me to struggle in my hate/need relationship with Him and that this leads to real love and devotion. I am not sure that God permitting/allowing me to admit my struggle with Him has anything to do with me in the least.

It seems that it is merely part of His nature, not some special allowance He is granting me. It is as natural for God to give and forgive as it is for a fish to swim, and the wind to blow. I don't think God sits around gauging our every nuance and motive . . . it seems much more plausible that it just flows from Him. For that I am very grateful.

This is why I need Him so much, because I am so not like that at all. On the other hand, nor is it reasonable to think that I will ever become like Him in any significant manner. This is one area where the West and the East are in opposite ends of the theological perspective. In the West I have always been taught that one of the primary goals of the spiritual journey is to become like Jesus. People from the East laugh at such sentiments. They consider God to be such Other that me becoming like Him is like much more difficult than me flying to Mars tomorrow with my own wings. There is a greater chance of me becoming the president of the United States of America as the Green Party candidate, than me becoming Christ-like. What complete arrogance on our part!

So in the end does God understand my angst? Well of course He does, He is God. Does He have much patience for my silly hatreds and resistance? I don't know, but will soon probably find out.

The days you hate God and need Him most

There are days I hate God. At least if I am honest, that is what it feels like. Because I do not in any form or fashion like what He is asking me to do. Mind you He is not asking me in a really direct manner, but rather, He has me pinned in and there are no other choices.

Like for instance, I hate God on sendyourkidsbacktoboaringschool days . . . like today. The house was a home for three weeks, filled with screaming yelling laughing kids and activity. Now its just a building. It's empty. The kid's have gone away to the regions beyond us and are now our kids and boarding school students. We don't see them for months and months at a time and it just isn't the same. If I do what I do . . . be a missionary . . . then God has me pretty pinned in, and I do not like Him on days like today. I hate what this costs, and don't really know if it is worth it.

These are also the days that I need Him most, because He is only one who can comfort me through this. I am glad that He is bigger than me.

greed and incompetence

There are many factors at play in the world today. Greed and incompetence are two that are at play in every culture and place on earth it seems. Greed - there are those who are simply not concerned about any other factor other than their own situation. It is entirely about them . . . at every level. There is actually no other element to those folks, except themselves. Greed. We don't have much tolerance for these types of folks, yet how do they continue to proliferate?

The other side is incompetence. We generally have more patience with these folks because they are often nice people who have the best intentions. But incompetence is a plague on this world. Poor quality, shoddy work, marginal materials, missed schedules and timelines, and outright lies are part and parcel of this phenomena. If you have ever lived in the third world, you live with the results of greed and incompetence every day. It ain't much fun.

Outcomes are what we are talking about. The outcome from greed and /or incompetence is exactly the same - bad. The person paying for it loses every time. While in North America you have to watch out for greed and incompetence to a point, yet for the most part there is a judicial system in place, along with contracts and laws, that are designed to protect both parties. None of that exists here. Oh, we have a judiciary . . . but the person with the most power wins almost every single time . . . not the person who is in the right. And yes we have contracts here, but they are generally worth less than the paper they are written upon.

The saving grace in a place like the hairy armpit is the general honesty of the population. How many times have we lost something, or forgotten our purse or keys and have someone return them to us? I have lost count of the times, and that is good. Great even. Sunday, the kids went out of the house and left our front door wide open. Five hours later when we came home, all was well (apart from having a cold house). But what I wouldn't give for a decent plumber who can listen, and actually admit when he is wrong and has no idea what he is doing.

A New Year - a miserable day

The monumental effort it took to open my eyelid a crack should have forewarned me that this was a tough start to a new year. The cracked eyelid let a margin of very painful light into my brain. Suddenly I realized that the air moving over my alveoli inside my lungs hurt. My head was a powder keg filled with pressure and every move and thought was like a match that threaten to blow it all the way back to its Maker. It hurt to think thoughts.

Now I should have expected this, since four of the five of us are sick and hacking up pieces of our lungs in the form of coughing. So far only Jake is immune. But I can’t believe how long it took me to get from the bed to downstairs . . . where I just had to stop and rest once I got there.

I know you will be convinced that I am a lunatic after confessing this, but I forced, and I mean forced myself to set up the trainer and get on the bike, even though I was sure I was going to hurl at any moment. While I don’t really enjoying working out that much, it almost always makes me feel better (endomorphins are powerful critters) and in the end I am glad I did. Not this day.

I made it for about 30 minutes and that was the end. I was sure I was going to die. When sweating does not help you, you are genuinely sick. There is no doubt. I dragged myself back upstairs and took a quick shower, got dressed, fell/shuffled back downstairs and decided to rest for a moment on the couch. Next thing I know, it’s three hours later and the whole family is up.

I felt marginally better, e.g. thoughts in my brain no longer caused actual pain, but still . . . if I could have rewound time back to the last week in 2006, I would have. But thank the Lord, today January 2nd, I can open my eyes all the way without a laser beam killing me, and my head is only 4/5 full of gunpowder. There is hope for 2007.