MANY VIEWPOINTS, ONE LORD
Yesterday I wrapped up my study of the gospel of Mark in my morning prayer times, and today I began the book of Luke. It's my goal this year to read through all four gospels. In the past, my strategy for Bible study has been to spread it out. So wary of fixating on one section too much, I bounced around for balance's sake: if a gospel, then next a history; if an epistle, then next a prophet. This strategy got me through all 66 books of the Bible over the course of about seven or eight years.
But if there's any subject worth sitting on for awhile, it's the Person of Jesus. To be sure, there's a lot of theology in the gospels, especially in John's account. But I liken the four gospel books to four biographies of Jesus of Nazareth. I've really gotten into biographies in the past couple of years, having read a couple of Theodore Roosevelt, one of Ronald Reagan, and one of Benjamin Franklin. I love how the biographers break down a person's life into recurring themes, and use their highs and lows to tell a gripping story.
So it's been cool to read the gospels from this perspective. Mark focuses on the authority of Jesus -- over nature, demons, and even math -- and emphasizes the fast-paced nature of Jesus' ministry. Because Mark and his source for material, Peter, experiencing profound failure in ministry and even profounder grace in being reinstated back into ministry, the patience of Jesus in teaching His disciples is also stressed. What a remarkable account of a remarkable man's life!
I'm four lines into Luke, and I can tell I'm going to dig his angle on the story, too. He's a historian, you see, committed to telling a logical, sequential, and orderly account of the life of this Person, Jesus of Nazareth. I look forward to getting yet another perspective on my Lord.
And here's the beautiful thing: I can read a biography, admire the subject, and strive to be like him or her. But the gospels are even more than that. They are the Words of Life! In reading them, not only am I getting good literature and a powerful example of transcendant living. I'm getting spiritual nourishment, soul guidance, rebuke for my crooked parts, and life itself. Imagine that: life itself waits for me in the pages of my Bible. Every morning.
2.28.2003
2.27.2003
LONG RUN
The "long run" is an important piece of any runner's regimen. My long run is currently eight miles, although I'm trying to inch it up over the next several weeks, as I'm half-thinking about signing up for the Broad Street Run, a ten-miler in May that runs north-south from Temple University to the shipyard.
I went on that long run this afternoon. I'd like to describe my route. Running for me is about the exercise, but it's also about the scenery. (Even though we have a treadmill, I've only run on it twice -- once when it was 90+ degrees outside, and once when there was 20+ inches of snow on the ground.) I like nature runs, but since I live in a city, I've grown fond of urban runs. In fact, one of my new hobbies is, when I travel to other cities for business, to scope out cool urban runs on the Internet and then go do them.
Philly's gotta be one of the better cities for urban runs. My eight-miler starts in West Philadelphia, where I run about a half-mile to the western edge of the PENN campus, where I stretch. I cut through Locust Walk, the main artery on campus, and today run down a long diagonal that takes me to the Drexel campus. Chestnut Street becomes a bridge over the Schuylkill River and brings me downtown. I pass a Red Cross building, and peek up to the second floor, where City Year Philadelphia has its office. I pass a church that is over two hundred years old on the left, and an art supply store buzzing with local students on the right.
Broad Street looms ahead. As I gingerly cross it, I quickly look left (City Hall) and right (Avenue of the Arts). For the couple of blocks before and after Broad Street, sidewalk traffic is thick, and I'm forced to a standstill a couple of times. I had begun this jaunt in the 40's (I live on 45th Street); Broad Street is essentially 14th Street. Now the numbers get even smaller: in the low teens are hospitals, and by the time we get to the high single digits, we're nearing Independence Hall. At 6th Street, Chestnut is blocked to pedestrian and auto traffic for security reasons; I make a right turn and a quick left into the courtyard behind Independence Hall. I blow a kiss to Independence Hall and then touch my heart twice: it's a little ritual of mine.
I get to 2nd Street and hook right, just before we're out of numbers and into water (the Delaware River). I pass through Headhouse Square and make a right on South Street. From 2nd to 6th, South Street is . . . well, South Street, that crazy place people all over the world know about. In 30-degree February, though, there aren't a lot of people out, especially at 4:30pm on a Thursday. This is the grueling part of the run; a long stretch with not much scenery to offer. The numbers are getting bigger but I know I need to get to 44 before I can stop. They painfully count up: 12, 13, cross Broad Street, 15, 16, 17. Here is where my mind begins to wander, and hope that when I snap to, I'm in the 30's and 40's again. No such luck.
Thankfully, it's not as cold as I'd feared; I went on this run this afternoon, rather than tomorrow morning, when I had planned to, because the weather forecast said six inches of snow was coming, starting at 6pm today. I brace myself for a long upward ascent as I get to the South Street bridge and back into University City. Once I cross the Schuylkill again, I run under the arches of PENN's Franklin Field, where PENN Relays is run and where I do my intervals. Back on the PENN campus, and just a mile to go. But most of it is uphill. How cruel.
I summon a kick that I didn't know I had inside me. Maybe my body is just saying, "Let's get this done!" 38, 39, 40 . . . Off the PENN campus, and into my neighborhood. 41, 42, 43 . . . the last block is particularly steep. But it's the last block. So I sprint it. I cross 44th, hit my stopwatch, and decelerate into a limp. The best part of the run, not just because the pain is over, but because the pleasure kicks in. Mmmm . . . runner's high.
I'm looking forward to getting that long run up a few miles, so I can try some new route through this lovely city I live in. PENN's Landing, Fairmount Park, FDR Park . . .new landmarks I hope to conquer in the next few weeks. But for now I'll content myself with a good long run, and rest my dogs for a couple of days.
The "long run" is an important piece of any runner's regimen. My long run is currently eight miles, although I'm trying to inch it up over the next several weeks, as I'm half-thinking about signing up for the Broad Street Run, a ten-miler in May that runs north-south from Temple University to the shipyard.
I went on that long run this afternoon. I'd like to describe my route. Running for me is about the exercise, but it's also about the scenery. (Even though we have a treadmill, I've only run on it twice -- once when it was 90+ degrees outside, and once when there was 20+ inches of snow on the ground.) I like nature runs, but since I live in a city, I've grown fond of urban runs. In fact, one of my new hobbies is, when I travel to other cities for business, to scope out cool urban runs on the Internet and then go do them.
Philly's gotta be one of the better cities for urban runs. My eight-miler starts in West Philadelphia, where I run about a half-mile to the western edge of the PENN campus, where I stretch. I cut through Locust Walk, the main artery on campus, and today run down a long diagonal that takes me to the Drexel campus. Chestnut Street becomes a bridge over the Schuylkill River and brings me downtown. I pass a Red Cross building, and peek up to the second floor, where City Year Philadelphia has its office. I pass a church that is over two hundred years old on the left, and an art supply store buzzing with local students on the right.
Broad Street looms ahead. As I gingerly cross it, I quickly look left (City Hall) and right (Avenue of the Arts). For the couple of blocks before and after Broad Street, sidewalk traffic is thick, and I'm forced to a standstill a couple of times. I had begun this jaunt in the 40's (I live on 45th Street); Broad Street is essentially 14th Street. Now the numbers get even smaller: in the low teens are hospitals, and by the time we get to the high single digits, we're nearing Independence Hall. At 6th Street, Chestnut is blocked to pedestrian and auto traffic for security reasons; I make a right turn and a quick left into the courtyard behind Independence Hall. I blow a kiss to Independence Hall and then touch my heart twice: it's a little ritual of mine.
I get to 2nd Street and hook right, just before we're out of numbers and into water (the Delaware River). I pass through Headhouse Square and make a right on South Street. From 2nd to 6th, South Street is . . . well, South Street, that crazy place people all over the world know about. In 30-degree February, though, there aren't a lot of people out, especially at 4:30pm on a Thursday. This is the grueling part of the run; a long stretch with not much scenery to offer. The numbers are getting bigger but I know I need to get to 44 before I can stop. They painfully count up: 12, 13, cross Broad Street, 15, 16, 17. Here is where my mind begins to wander, and hope that when I snap to, I'm in the 30's and 40's again. No such luck.
Thankfully, it's not as cold as I'd feared; I went on this run this afternoon, rather than tomorrow morning, when I had planned to, because the weather forecast said six inches of snow was coming, starting at 6pm today. I brace myself for a long upward ascent as I get to the South Street bridge and back into University City. Once I cross the Schuylkill again, I run under the arches of PENN's Franklin Field, where PENN Relays is run and where I do my intervals. Back on the PENN campus, and just a mile to go. But most of it is uphill. How cruel.
I summon a kick that I didn't know I had inside me. Maybe my body is just saying, "Let's get this done!" 38, 39, 40 . . . Off the PENN campus, and into my neighborhood. 41, 42, 43 . . . the last block is particularly steep. But it's the last block. So I sprint it. I cross 44th, hit my stopwatch, and decelerate into a limp. The best part of the run, not just because the pain is over, but because the pleasure kicks in. Mmmm . . . runner's high.
I'm looking forward to getting that long run up a few miles, so I can try some new route through this lovely city I live in. PENN's Landing, Fairmount Park, FDR Park . . .new landmarks I hope to conquer in the next few weeks. But for now I'll content myself with a good long run, and rest my dogs for a couple of days.
2.26.2003
THE MISSION OF MISSION YEAR
I had lunch today with my friend Dave, who is City Director for Mission Year Philadelphia. Mission Year brings together young Christians from all around the country, puts them in an inner-city neighborhood, and supports them as they live in community, befriend their neighbors, and serve at schools and shelters and non-profits. The experience of ministry on the street level, and of learning to live with and love total strangers, is a powerful one. A large percentage of Mission Year alum, having signed up for a year of radical urban discipleship, "graduate" into a lifelong commitment of such a calling.
While I was in their office, I chatted with my friend Shabrae, who this summer is launching Mission Year's partnership with City Year, another (although secular) urban service organizaton for young adults. The goal of this fused program is to recruit people, mostly urban high school grads (Mission Year participants are predominantly suburbanites from Christian colleges) to do all of the service of City Year, and enjoy all of the community and ministry benefit of Mission Year.
The combo could be a powerful one for this group of young Christians, many of whom have been excluded from ministry opportunities like this because of the relative inability of raising financial support (City Year is well-funded and as a result, participants in this joint program won't have to raise any money of their own; in fact, they'll leave the program with considerable educational scholarships). In addition to giving them a year to breathe the exhilarating air of following Jesus with reckless abandon and total commitment, they'll hopefully be the first of many classes of participants who will help Christians in this country think about faith less in terms of intellectual assent and proper doctrine, and more in terms of service, community, and relationships. The body of Christ, and our cities, will be better off for it.
I had lunch today with my friend Dave, who is City Director for Mission Year Philadelphia. Mission Year brings together young Christians from all around the country, puts them in an inner-city neighborhood, and supports them as they live in community, befriend their neighbors, and serve at schools and shelters and non-profits. The experience of ministry on the street level, and of learning to live with and love total strangers, is a powerful one. A large percentage of Mission Year alum, having signed up for a year of radical urban discipleship, "graduate" into a lifelong commitment of such a calling.
While I was in their office, I chatted with my friend Shabrae, who this summer is launching Mission Year's partnership with City Year, another (although secular) urban service organizaton for young adults. The goal of this fused program is to recruit people, mostly urban high school grads (Mission Year participants are predominantly suburbanites from Christian colleges) to do all of the service of City Year, and enjoy all of the community and ministry benefit of Mission Year.
The combo could be a powerful one for this group of young Christians, many of whom have been excluded from ministry opportunities like this because of the relative inability of raising financial support (City Year is well-funded and as a result, participants in this joint program won't have to raise any money of their own; in fact, they'll leave the program with considerable educational scholarships). In addition to giving them a year to breathe the exhilarating air of following Jesus with reckless abandon and total commitment, they'll hopefully be the first of many classes of participants who will help Christians in this country think about faith less in terms of intellectual assent and proper doctrine, and more in terms of service, community, and relationships. The body of Christ, and our cities, will be better off for it.
2.25.2003
A NEIGHBORHOOD IN TRANSITION
This evening, our facility hosted the new Executive Vice President of the University of Pennsylvania. As COO of the largest private employer in Philadelphia, one of his main dilemmas will be how to wield the power of a giant in a West Philadelphia community that is at once thankful for PENN's largesse as well as stung by injustices past and present.
Gentrification is a word used to describe neighborhoods in transition. Something catalyzes improvement, whether it is government policy or new housing starts or private investment. Families of higher and higher income level move in. Physical plant improves. Real estate prices increase. Families of lower income are driven out, whether they are homeowners who can no longer afford property taxes or renters who have other, cheaper options to lodge. And unfortunately, this transition is often colored: white folks moving in, black folks moving out.
As an urban Christian and a homeowner, I am conflicted. I moved into West Philadelphia because of its assets as well as its liabilities. This is a neighborhood rich in history and culture. West Philadelphia was one of the nation's first suburbs, as wealthy Philadelphians built huge summer mansions on the western side of the Schuylkill River, to create distance from downtown Philadelphia and their city homes and jobs. Trolley lines were built in the early 1900's, and houses for blue collar workers commuting into downtown began to sprout up alongside these veins. PENN has attracted grad students from all over the world, who, but for a crime scare in the early 1990's, have enjoyed living within walking distance of their classrooms and research labs. And diversity has bred more diversity; new influxes of immigrants from Africa, Southeast Asia, and the Middle East find their temporary or permanent homes among the rented apartments in my neighborhood. They mix with a population that is predominantly African-American, and which, because of major job and population loss in the city and a drastic shift in industry -- away from manufacturing and tons of high-paying, low-skill jobs towards financial services and technology, with either high-skilled and high-paying or no-skilled and low-paying positions -- is predominantly low-income.
What a neighborhood to commit to, as a resident and a church leader and a non-profit executive. But the neighborhood is in transition. PENN has a mortgage incentive program that gives PENN workers and faculty cash money to buy and renovate houses in its immediate West Philadelphia neighborhood. (Amy and I are among the dozens of families who have taken advantage of this generosity.) A new, PENN-funded school has opened two blocks from our house; being able to send kids to a decent public school is worth at least $15,000-$20,000 in housing price increases for families; some are buying shells of houses in the area that qualifies for this school, simply for the benefit of a good quality, free grade school education. PENN helps pay for a special services district, which does extra clean-up, policing, signage, and community events. I'd like to say The Enterprise Center has helped make West Philadelphia a place of excitement rather than disdain. New, trendy restaurants are popping up; one, on the other end of our block, has been "the restaurant of the moment" for several months now. And our house has probably doubled in value in less than three years.
What does this all mean for me, as a Christian and a homeowner, as an urban disciple and a community leader, as a proponent of diversity and someone who wants to raise a family here? To be certain, I am happy to have doubled my real estate investment. And I'm happy that West Philadelphia has "buzz." I do not wish, however, for my neighborhood to "tip" in price, to the point that it is no longer welcoming to immigrants and working-class families. Gentrification is such that even if I had total control over everything that controls it -- and obviously I don't; no one does -- I wouldn't know what to do.
How much progress, and what kind of progress, is good? As a Christian, I believe we need not be ashamed of profit. But we must also vehemently advocate for diversity, for community, and for uplifting the poor. So far, at least, West Philadelphia for me has been the best of both sides. But what's next for this neighborhood?
This evening, our facility hosted the new Executive Vice President of the University of Pennsylvania. As COO of the largest private employer in Philadelphia, one of his main dilemmas will be how to wield the power of a giant in a West Philadelphia community that is at once thankful for PENN's largesse as well as stung by injustices past and present.
Gentrification is a word used to describe neighborhoods in transition. Something catalyzes improvement, whether it is government policy or new housing starts or private investment. Families of higher and higher income level move in. Physical plant improves. Real estate prices increase. Families of lower income are driven out, whether they are homeowners who can no longer afford property taxes or renters who have other, cheaper options to lodge. And unfortunately, this transition is often colored: white folks moving in, black folks moving out.
As an urban Christian and a homeowner, I am conflicted. I moved into West Philadelphia because of its assets as well as its liabilities. This is a neighborhood rich in history and culture. West Philadelphia was one of the nation's first suburbs, as wealthy Philadelphians built huge summer mansions on the western side of the Schuylkill River, to create distance from downtown Philadelphia and their city homes and jobs. Trolley lines were built in the early 1900's, and houses for blue collar workers commuting into downtown began to sprout up alongside these veins. PENN has attracted grad students from all over the world, who, but for a crime scare in the early 1990's, have enjoyed living within walking distance of their classrooms and research labs. And diversity has bred more diversity; new influxes of immigrants from Africa, Southeast Asia, and the Middle East find their temporary or permanent homes among the rented apartments in my neighborhood. They mix with a population that is predominantly African-American, and which, because of major job and population loss in the city and a drastic shift in industry -- away from manufacturing and tons of high-paying, low-skill jobs towards financial services and technology, with either high-skilled and high-paying or no-skilled and low-paying positions -- is predominantly low-income.
What a neighborhood to commit to, as a resident and a church leader and a non-profit executive. But the neighborhood is in transition. PENN has a mortgage incentive program that gives PENN workers and faculty cash money to buy and renovate houses in its immediate West Philadelphia neighborhood. (Amy and I are among the dozens of families who have taken advantage of this generosity.) A new, PENN-funded school has opened two blocks from our house; being able to send kids to a decent public school is worth at least $15,000-$20,000 in housing price increases for families; some are buying shells of houses in the area that qualifies for this school, simply for the benefit of a good quality, free grade school education. PENN helps pay for a special services district, which does extra clean-up, policing, signage, and community events. I'd like to say The Enterprise Center has helped make West Philadelphia a place of excitement rather than disdain. New, trendy restaurants are popping up; one, on the other end of our block, has been "the restaurant of the moment" for several months now. And our house has probably doubled in value in less than three years.
What does this all mean for me, as a Christian and a homeowner, as an urban disciple and a community leader, as a proponent of diversity and someone who wants to raise a family here? To be certain, I am happy to have doubled my real estate investment. And I'm happy that West Philadelphia has "buzz." I do not wish, however, for my neighborhood to "tip" in price, to the point that it is no longer welcoming to immigrants and working-class families. Gentrification is such that even if I had total control over everything that controls it -- and obviously I don't; no one does -- I wouldn't know what to do.
How much progress, and what kind of progress, is good? As a Christian, I believe we need not be ashamed of profit. But we must also vehemently advocate for diversity, for community, and for uplifting the poor. So far, at least, West Philadelphia for me has been the best of both sides. But what's next for this neighborhood?
2.24.2003
PRESIDENTIAL DILEMMAS
My wife always tells me I should run for President someday. I used to think to myself that I'd like being President, but I wouldn't like doing what it took to become President. But now I wonder if I would ever want the job at all.
I mean, think about all the dilemmas. I don't know about you, but this war on terror downright confuses me. Is it possible to abhor and applaud both sides at the same time? Clearly, war is a horrendous thing, and ought not be entered into lightly, or in a cavalier fashion, or for not so noble (read: oil) purposes. Then again, we are talking about ruthless dictators who feed like sharks on talk of "diplomacy" and "appeasement" and "agreements," and who can only be silenced by forceful action.
Even if I felt comfortable with a particular side in this debate, would I feel comfortable enforcing it as the leader of the most powerful country in the world? On the one hand, my heart swells like Theodore Roosevelt's with pride that America is as powerful as it is, and that with such power we ought to take responsibility to ensure peace and freedom everywhere. We need not be ashamed to be the biggest and most powerful kid on the block; but with it comes a moral duty to use power for good and not evil.
But on the other hand, I am aghast at the hubris with which our country sees itself, and am ashamed to be part of a nation that has committed so many atrocities in the name of "manifest destiny." With power comes the seductive temptation to do whatever is best for ourselves, with light regard for others punier than we. And indeed our history is littered with the wreckage of such attitudes. (Although, unfortunately, our history books are not.)
If you had to nail me down to a position, I'd have to say that I'm for this war in Iraq. I wouldn't have said that even two months ago, and I might not say that two weeks from now. But I hope that's not because I'm wishy-washy. (Or maybe that means exactly that I am wishy-washy.)
I trust that America is built on too many noble principles for it to waver from them in this time of need. And I no longer think that conciliatory gestures have any effectiveness on evil men and women who concentrate power, kill innocents, and manipulate everything -- negotiations, media, and their own people -- for selfish and dastardly purposes. May we be humble and prayerful in our actions, especially if they involve bloodshed and massive military spending. But may we not shirk the opportunity to stand tall in the face of terror and beat it down.
My wife always tells me I should run for President someday. I used to think to myself that I'd like being President, but I wouldn't like doing what it took to become President. But now I wonder if I would ever want the job at all.
I mean, think about all the dilemmas. I don't know about you, but this war on terror downright confuses me. Is it possible to abhor and applaud both sides at the same time? Clearly, war is a horrendous thing, and ought not be entered into lightly, or in a cavalier fashion, or for not so noble (read: oil) purposes. Then again, we are talking about ruthless dictators who feed like sharks on talk of "diplomacy" and "appeasement" and "agreements," and who can only be silenced by forceful action.
Even if I felt comfortable with a particular side in this debate, would I feel comfortable enforcing it as the leader of the most powerful country in the world? On the one hand, my heart swells like Theodore Roosevelt's with pride that America is as powerful as it is, and that with such power we ought to take responsibility to ensure peace and freedom everywhere. We need not be ashamed to be the biggest and most powerful kid on the block; but with it comes a moral duty to use power for good and not evil.
But on the other hand, I am aghast at the hubris with which our country sees itself, and am ashamed to be part of a nation that has committed so many atrocities in the name of "manifest destiny." With power comes the seductive temptation to do whatever is best for ourselves, with light regard for others punier than we. And indeed our history is littered with the wreckage of such attitudes. (Although, unfortunately, our history books are not.)
If you had to nail me down to a position, I'd have to say that I'm for this war in Iraq. I wouldn't have said that even two months ago, and I might not say that two weeks from now. But I hope that's not because I'm wishy-washy. (Or maybe that means exactly that I am wishy-washy.)
I trust that America is built on too many noble principles for it to waver from them in this time of need. And I no longer think that conciliatory gestures have any effectiveness on evil men and women who concentrate power, kill innocents, and manipulate everything -- negotiations, media, and their own people -- for selfish and dastardly purposes. May we be humble and prayerful in our actions, especially if they involve bloodshed and massive military spending. But may we not shirk the opportunity to stand tall in the face of terror and beat it down.
2.23.2003
BLOGGING OR BLABBING
The host site might be going down temporarily in a few minutes, and I can't think of anything to "blog" about tonight anyway, so I'll keep this short. Unless you've read my first entry, you might be wondering why I'm blabbering on about random topics like Georgia's flag or seedy political gossip. A few weeks into rapping out the mostly daily entries (I feel like Doogie Howser), I quite like the freedom of "stream of consciousness" writing.
I'm more used to carefully selecting and editing my words, and sometimes it can feel like work and not play. I'm trying to crank out a couple of book manuscripts right now, on topics dear to my heart, and yet sometimes it seems like I'm grinding something out, rather than the feeling you might get painting or sculpting a work of art.
I have a friend whose girlfriend got him into photography. He bought an old Polaroid and now takes one picture a day. He says it's quite a rush going through the day thinking, "What's that picture going to be of?" Then, at random times of the day, a "photo op" emerges. He clicks. Some days, they are mundane, and other days, enchanting. But it's opened his eyes to the many photo opportunities that are constantly around him. I guess that's how I feel about this "blog." I go through the day thinking, "What's today's blog going to be about?" And invariably, life gives me something to write about.
As a Christian, I believe in a living and personal God, and I pray to him daily in the morning. Not because prayer is the right thing to do, but because I am dirty in my mind and weak in my flesh, and to meet with Him in the morning is to get right, clarify my heart and mind, ask for His help for today's battles, and get guidance on what those battles might be. So I guess God is responsible for giving me something to write about every day. Even today.
The host site might be going down temporarily in a few minutes, and I can't think of anything to "blog" about tonight anyway, so I'll keep this short. Unless you've read my first entry, you might be wondering why I'm blabbering on about random topics like Georgia's flag or seedy political gossip. A few weeks into rapping out the mostly daily entries (I feel like Doogie Howser), I quite like the freedom of "stream of consciousness" writing.
I'm more used to carefully selecting and editing my words, and sometimes it can feel like work and not play. I'm trying to crank out a couple of book manuscripts right now, on topics dear to my heart, and yet sometimes it seems like I'm grinding something out, rather than the feeling you might get painting or sculpting a work of art.
I have a friend whose girlfriend got him into photography. He bought an old Polaroid and now takes one picture a day. He says it's quite a rush going through the day thinking, "What's that picture going to be of?" Then, at random times of the day, a "photo op" emerges. He clicks. Some days, they are mundane, and other days, enchanting. But it's opened his eyes to the many photo opportunities that are constantly around him. I guess that's how I feel about this "blog." I go through the day thinking, "What's today's blog going to be about?" And invariably, life gives me something to write about.
As a Christian, I believe in a living and personal God, and I pray to him daily in the morning. Not because prayer is the right thing to do, but because I am dirty in my mind and weak in my flesh, and to meet with Him in the morning is to get right, clarify my heart and mind, ask for His help for today's battles, and get guidance on what those battles might be. So I guess God is responsible for giving me something to write about every day. Even today.
2.21.2003
SLAVERY ON TOP OF FREEDOM
The renovation of the area around Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell here in Philadelphia became quite a maelstrom of controversy when it was discovered that a key part of the new mall would be built on top of the location of the former slave quarters of the father of Fathers, George Washington himself. Some have argued that construction should continue as scheduled, while others loudly protest that history, no matter how painful to swallow, ought not be built over. The compromises reached in timetable and design haven't seemed to satisfy anyone. Our nation's "progress" in race relations continues, sometimes jaggedly, sometimes two steps forward two steps back, but always in movement.
If you think about our country, there have been three major events -- one per century -- that have defined us as a nation. Two, the Revolutionary War and World War II, are glaring in their inconsistency: how can we fight for indepedence, here or abroad, and yet deny it to an entire group of people? The third was directly about race: the Civil War, in which southern states seceded and fought for the right to be able to enslave black people without federal interference.
What I love about America is that it is a nation built on process. Having won independence, the new Americans split between those who wanted a strong federal government to keep the infant nation together and those who argued that a strong federal government represented the kind of tyranny they had just shed blood against. Instead of deciding between one or the other, our founding fathers decided that our country would be about the process of progress. That process continues today.
So while our nation has had many shameful episodes in its history, I bleed red white and blue. I am not proud of certain flaws about America, but I am proud to be an American. What I don't want is for us to become, as Michael Eric Dyson calls it, "the United States of Amnesia." To forget about our less desirable historical events would be to become a nation that I would no longer be proud of.
The renovation of the area around Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell here in Philadelphia became quite a maelstrom of controversy when it was discovered that a key part of the new mall would be built on top of the location of the former slave quarters of the father of Fathers, George Washington himself. Some have argued that construction should continue as scheduled, while others loudly protest that history, no matter how painful to swallow, ought not be built over. The compromises reached in timetable and design haven't seemed to satisfy anyone. Our nation's "progress" in race relations continues, sometimes jaggedly, sometimes two steps forward two steps back, but always in movement.
If you think about our country, there have been three major events -- one per century -- that have defined us as a nation. Two, the Revolutionary War and World War II, are glaring in their inconsistency: how can we fight for indepedence, here or abroad, and yet deny it to an entire group of people? The third was directly about race: the Civil War, in which southern states seceded and fought for the right to be able to enslave black people without federal interference.
What I love about America is that it is a nation built on process. Having won independence, the new Americans split between those who wanted a strong federal government to keep the infant nation together and those who argued that a strong federal government represented the kind of tyranny they had just shed blood against. Instead of deciding between one or the other, our founding fathers decided that our country would be about the process of progress. That process continues today.
So while our nation has had many shameful episodes in its history, I bleed red white and blue. I am not proud of certain flaws about America, but I am proud to be an American. What I don't want is for us to become, as Michael Eric Dyson calls it, "the United States of Amnesia." To forget about our less desirable historical events would be to become a nation that I would no longer be proud of.
2.20.2003
ALL BLACK
While I was in Atlanta doing a workshop at a community development conference this week, I got a chance to visit a former student of mine, who is currently a freshman at Morehouse College. I am so proud of this guy, Mike. He's taken all of his entrepreneurial gusto and applied it with full force to his college life. He's organizing major social events, building his rolodex of contacts, and angling to submit a proposal for a retail location on campus where he wants to open a music store. It was quite rewarding for me to hear him speak highly of his experience in our program, and of how skills he learned there have been useful to his educational and professional development.
Morehouse borders two other historically black colleges, Clark Atlanta and Spelman. While I was in town, there was a major furor over the new governor seeking to bring back Georgia's old state flag, which has Confederate ties and which had been replaced by the previous governor in the name of progress. The new governor was elected largely because of the support of those who liked the old flag (and the old ways), and apparently is giving into their pressure to bring that despicable image back. Businesspeople, particularly in Atlanta, a huge convention town, as well as the black community, have been in an uproar over the symbolism and the potential boycotting of the state by conventioneers and businesses.
I asked Mike why he decided to attend an all-black school. He told me he just wanted to have a little time where he was in the majority. It gave me another perspective on the phenomenon in this country of "living while black." Catchphrases like "assimilation," "color-blind," and "merit-based" sound good, but are an affront to our nation's shameful past and racist present. I don't blame Mike for wishing for a pocket of normalcy in a sea of injustice.
I don't know what it's going to take for our nation to overcome its sinful history and current inequities. But I'm not expected to know how to fix myself if I am feeling searing pain in my stomach. I am expected to make it to the hospital. Our country is seared with the pain of prejudice; are we aware enough to get to the hospital?
While I was in Atlanta doing a workshop at a community development conference this week, I got a chance to visit a former student of mine, who is currently a freshman at Morehouse College. I am so proud of this guy, Mike. He's taken all of his entrepreneurial gusto and applied it with full force to his college life. He's organizing major social events, building his rolodex of contacts, and angling to submit a proposal for a retail location on campus where he wants to open a music store. It was quite rewarding for me to hear him speak highly of his experience in our program, and of how skills he learned there have been useful to his educational and professional development.
Morehouse borders two other historically black colleges, Clark Atlanta and Spelman. While I was in town, there was a major furor over the new governor seeking to bring back Georgia's old state flag, which has Confederate ties and which had been replaced by the previous governor in the name of progress. The new governor was elected largely because of the support of those who liked the old flag (and the old ways), and apparently is giving into their pressure to bring that despicable image back. Businesspeople, particularly in Atlanta, a huge convention town, as well as the black community, have been in an uproar over the symbolism and the potential boycotting of the state by conventioneers and businesses.
I asked Mike why he decided to attend an all-black school. He told me he just wanted to have a little time where he was in the majority. It gave me another perspective on the phenomenon in this country of "living while black." Catchphrases like "assimilation," "color-blind," and "merit-based" sound good, but are an affront to our nation's shameful past and racist present. I don't blame Mike for wishing for a pocket of normalcy in a sea of injustice.
I don't know what it's going to take for our nation to overcome its sinful history and current inequities. But I'm not expected to know how to fix myself if I am feeling searing pain in my stomach. I am expected to make it to the hospital. Our country is seared with the pain of prejudice; are we aware enough to get to the hospital?
2.17.2003
PLANS PUT IN PLACE
There are a lot of hard passages in the Bible, and one of the hardest for me is the one in the fourth chapter of James, where James chastises those who make plans to do business and forget that God is ultimately in charge of our plans and our lives. "Instead, you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we shall live and also do this or that.'" To say I plan and forget God's place in my life is like saying Tiger Woods wins golf tournaments: it happens all the time.
I'm doing a workshop at a conference in Atlanta this Wednesday, and for the past three weeks, I've been scheduling business meetings and other activities for my 36 hours in this city. On the eve of my trip, my flight got cancelled, due to the 20+ inches of snow that has fallen on Philadelphia in the past day or so. The biggest blizzard in seven years has been God's way of reminding me that He's still in charge, no matter how much I scheme and plot.
I've been able to reschedule my flight, as well as most of my Atlanta meetings. But I also feel like I'm on borrowed time, time that wasn't guaranteed for me to have. It's like playing with house money. I guess that's how all of life should be, and I guess that's the point of James 4. We don't know how many days we have on this earth, but they're all borrowed. How freeing! It's like playing with house money. We're playing with God's time.
There are a lot of hard passages in the Bible, and one of the hardest for me is the one in the fourth chapter of James, where James chastises those who make plans to do business and forget that God is ultimately in charge of our plans and our lives. "Instead, you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we shall live and also do this or that.'" To say I plan and forget God's place in my life is like saying Tiger Woods wins golf tournaments: it happens all the time.
I'm doing a workshop at a conference in Atlanta this Wednesday, and for the past three weeks, I've been scheduling business meetings and other activities for my 36 hours in this city. On the eve of my trip, my flight got cancelled, due to the 20+ inches of snow that has fallen on Philadelphia in the past day or so. The biggest blizzard in seven years has been God's way of reminding me that He's still in charge, no matter how much I scheme and plot.
I've been able to reschedule my flight, as well as most of my Atlanta meetings. But I also feel like I'm on borrowed time, time that wasn't guaranteed for me to have. It's like playing with house money. I guess that's how all of life should be, and I guess that's the point of James 4. We don't know how many days we have on this earth, but they're all borrowed. How freeing! It's like playing with house money. We're playing with God's time.
2.15.2003
YEAR OF REST?
Since September 2002, I've been on sabbatical from my normal job of running a youth entrepreneurship program here in West Philadelphia. I will be on this sabbatical until August 2003; yes, a full year of not doing what I've been doing for the past seven years. I had three main goals in taking this time away: 1) give my staff the chance for the buck to stop at their desk; 2) give myself a year to grow our organization's consulting department; and 3) give myself time away to rest, reflect, and gain perspective.
I'm a workaholic that has a hard time taking a day off, so taking a year off has been, well, difficult. I actually felt fresher in my head in September 2002 than I do now, when I wrote to those who support our youth program, something to the effect of "I need this time because when you're in the trenches, you need some down time in order to really give yourself to this work for the long haul."
While I still believe that, I wonder if I really will feel rested when I return to those responsibilities this August. For while I've been away from the youth program, I've been a part of other things that have opened my eyes to how the world outside my program works. I'm actively campaigning for someone running for City Council. I'm in a leadership class with 90+ of Philly's smartest and most accomplished people. And in my consulting work, I'm talking to and working for people around the world. I'm beginning to feel that my sabbatical year hasn't been a haven of peace and rest at all. Now that I've seen more of the world, what will be a haven will be returning to my former job and being able to focus most of my energy on my little piece of the world.
Since September 2002, I've been on sabbatical from my normal job of running a youth entrepreneurship program here in West Philadelphia. I will be on this sabbatical until August 2003; yes, a full year of not doing what I've been doing for the past seven years. I had three main goals in taking this time away: 1) give my staff the chance for the buck to stop at their desk; 2) give myself a year to grow our organization's consulting department; and 3) give myself time away to rest, reflect, and gain perspective.
I'm a workaholic that has a hard time taking a day off, so taking a year off has been, well, difficult. I actually felt fresher in my head in September 2002 than I do now, when I wrote to those who support our youth program, something to the effect of "I need this time because when you're in the trenches, you need some down time in order to really give yourself to this work for the long haul."
While I still believe that, I wonder if I really will feel rested when I return to those responsibilities this August. For while I've been away from the youth program, I've been a part of other things that have opened my eyes to how the world outside my program works. I'm actively campaigning for someone running for City Council. I'm in a leadership class with 90+ of Philly's smartest and most accomplished people. And in my consulting work, I'm talking to and working for people around the world. I'm beginning to feel that my sabbatical year hasn't been a haven of peace and rest at all. Now that I've seen more of the world, what will be a haven will be returning to my former job and being able to focus most of my energy on my little piece of the world.
2.14.2003
FOR ONE RIGHTEOUS PERSON
I'm finishing up Buzz Bissinger's "Prayer for the City," an intimate look at Ed Rendell's first term as mayor of Philadelphia in the mid-1990's. As the book's title suggests, Bissinger paints Rendell as a flawed but hopeful man who wills the survival of a city that is bleeding with population loss, violence, and racial tension. It is a well-written book that evokes the beautiful tragedy of the modern urban metropolis and causes you to sympathesize with "Fast Eddie" as he laments and exhorts and leads.
Though he was vilified for hamming it up in the national spotlight and focusing on downtown revitalization at the neglect of neighborhood transformation, I am a believer in Ed Rendell. He literally did save the city from financial ruin and emotional breakdown. We have a long way to go, but the fact that we have lived to fight another day is due in large part to the unflinching optimism and political prowess and ceaseless energy displayed by Ed Rendell during his first term as Philadelphia's mayor.
I am reminded of two parallel stories in the Bible. One is Abraham's haggling with God: will you decide against destroying the city of Sodom if you find fifty righteous people living there? How about 40? 30? 20? 10? The other is Ezekiel's horror at God's pronouncement of judgment on the city of Jerusalem; despite the prophet's desperate pleas, the heavenly executioner is released to his work of destruction. In both cases, God was not merciful; the cities were laid low.
What about Philadelphia, and a thousand other urban metropolises? There is nothing new under the sun; the personal and systemic evil that we are all guilty of, by commission and by omission, by willful intent and damning ignorance, is no greater or lesser than that which doomed Sodom and Jerusalem so many generations ago. Will God find in our cities faithful men and women willing to hope against hope, willing to admit to and repent of sin, willing to stand up to Him and cry out for mercy? Will He pardon my city for one righteous person?
I'm finishing up Buzz Bissinger's "Prayer for the City," an intimate look at Ed Rendell's first term as mayor of Philadelphia in the mid-1990's. As the book's title suggests, Bissinger paints Rendell as a flawed but hopeful man who wills the survival of a city that is bleeding with population loss, violence, and racial tension. It is a well-written book that evokes the beautiful tragedy of the modern urban metropolis and causes you to sympathesize with "Fast Eddie" as he laments and exhorts and leads.
Though he was vilified for hamming it up in the national spotlight and focusing on downtown revitalization at the neglect of neighborhood transformation, I am a believer in Ed Rendell. He literally did save the city from financial ruin and emotional breakdown. We have a long way to go, but the fact that we have lived to fight another day is due in large part to the unflinching optimism and political prowess and ceaseless energy displayed by Ed Rendell during his first term as Philadelphia's mayor.
I am reminded of two parallel stories in the Bible. One is Abraham's haggling with God: will you decide against destroying the city of Sodom if you find fifty righteous people living there? How about 40? 30? 20? 10? The other is Ezekiel's horror at God's pronouncement of judgment on the city of Jerusalem; despite the prophet's desperate pleas, the heavenly executioner is released to his work of destruction. In both cases, God was not merciful; the cities were laid low.
What about Philadelphia, and a thousand other urban metropolises? There is nothing new under the sun; the personal and systemic evil that we are all guilty of, by commission and by omission, by willful intent and damning ignorance, is no greater or lesser than that which doomed Sodom and Jerusalem so many generations ago. Will God find in our cities faithful men and women willing to hope against hope, willing to admit to and repent of sin, willing to stand up to Him and cry out for mercy? Will He pardon my city for one righteous person?
2.13.2003
ONE THING IS NECESSARY
It is an easy truth to understand and a hard one to practice: the more complicated your life gets, the more simple your prayer life should be. I find that as the specific prayer requests begin to mount up in my life -- my friend Randy has cancer, help me do well in my workshop in Atlanta next week, give Amy strength to love these girls in her program who are so violent and so needy -- I try to spend more time just focusing on the "one thing" Jesus speaks of in His encounter with Martha and Mary.
A quick recap of the story, if you don't know it: as Jesus arrives at their house, Martha assumes robo-host mode, making snacks in the kitchen and cleaning like mad; while Mary sits at Jesus' feet and gives Him her undivided attention as she teaches. The men who are His audience are probably expecting Jesus to rebuke Mary and compliment Martha -- after all, this was a society in which it was inappropriate for a female to rub elbows in the company of men and more honorable to do kitchen work -- but instead Jesus does the opposite. "Martha, chill out," says Jesus (in the vernacular). "One thing's needed; Mary's chosen wisely."
I'm much more Martha than Mary. But like I said, as the prayer requests mount, I guess I'm realizing that while it's good to prayerfully consider all 101 things on my heart and mind at the moment, it's more important to prayerfully center myself on God and on being where He is in my life.
I don't mean to discount the importance of making specific and persistent requests to God about specific prayer concerns. The Bible, and my own personal experience, convince me that to pray like that is important. May we not, however, neglect the kind of prayer that simply seeks to be with Jesus. For the power of a prayer-answering God that is at our disposal, I pray specific requests so seldomly and so weakly. And for the pleasure of relationship with a wonderful God that is so available, I pray to be with Him so infrequently and so impassionately. May it not be so.
It is an easy truth to understand and a hard one to practice: the more complicated your life gets, the more simple your prayer life should be. I find that as the specific prayer requests begin to mount up in my life -- my friend Randy has cancer, help me do well in my workshop in Atlanta next week, give Amy strength to love these girls in her program who are so violent and so needy -- I try to spend more time just focusing on the "one thing" Jesus speaks of in His encounter with Martha and Mary.
A quick recap of the story, if you don't know it: as Jesus arrives at their house, Martha assumes robo-host mode, making snacks in the kitchen and cleaning like mad; while Mary sits at Jesus' feet and gives Him her undivided attention as she teaches. The men who are His audience are probably expecting Jesus to rebuke Mary and compliment Martha -- after all, this was a society in which it was inappropriate for a female to rub elbows in the company of men and more honorable to do kitchen work -- but instead Jesus does the opposite. "Martha, chill out," says Jesus (in the vernacular). "One thing's needed; Mary's chosen wisely."
I'm much more Martha than Mary. But like I said, as the prayer requests mount, I guess I'm realizing that while it's good to prayerfully consider all 101 things on my heart and mind at the moment, it's more important to prayerfully center myself on God and on being where He is in my life.
I don't mean to discount the importance of making specific and persistent requests to God about specific prayer concerns. The Bible, and my own personal experience, convince me that to pray like that is important. May we not, however, neglect the kind of prayer that simply seeks to be with Jesus. For the power of a prayer-answering God that is at our disposal, I pray specific requests so seldomly and so weakly. And for the pleasure of relationship with a wonderful God that is so available, I pray to be with Him so infrequently and so impassionately. May it not be so.
2.12.2003
INTERESTING CONVERSATIONS
I attended a fundraiser this evening for the political candidate I'm supporting. I can't tell you how many of these cocktail-type parties I've been to in my professional career. Some are fun, because you bump into people you know; some aren't, because you don't know anyone and feel increasingly conspicuous as you stand alone in a room of strangers picking at your cheese and veggies.
This one was on the fun side, but not because I knew that many people. I guess I just decided that I was going to introduce myself to strangers and strike up conversations. And I had some interesting ones. A woman who is running for judge told me about how prepaid legal services are a sham, and how it's difficult to balance wanting to execute justice versus ruling in favor of the lawyer that presented the better case. The president of my neighborhood's local paper was there, and I asked him about his own opinion about whether newspapers could state that they supported a certain candidate and honestly be able to be impartial in covering a race. I chatted with another committee member, who emigrated from Russia thirty years ago, and hates going back because it is so not like the freedom we feel here in the US. The candidate's treasurer taught me a little bit about campaign finance.
And I rapped a little with candidate himself, who was second-guessing his decision to get to the event on time, rather than making a grand (and tardy) entrance to a full room. I reassured him that it communicated to his guests that he was "of them," to which he agreed: "I'm here early to help set up chairs and food; I guess that's the kind of guy I am." All in all, it was an educational and enjoyable evening. I might just have to try this cocktail party strategy again.
I attended a fundraiser this evening for the political candidate I'm supporting. I can't tell you how many of these cocktail-type parties I've been to in my professional career. Some are fun, because you bump into people you know; some aren't, because you don't know anyone and feel increasingly conspicuous as you stand alone in a room of strangers picking at your cheese and veggies.
This one was on the fun side, but not because I knew that many people. I guess I just decided that I was going to introduce myself to strangers and strike up conversations. And I had some interesting ones. A woman who is running for judge told me about how prepaid legal services are a sham, and how it's difficult to balance wanting to execute justice versus ruling in favor of the lawyer that presented the better case. The president of my neighborhood's local paper was there, and I asked him about his own opinion about whether newspapers could state that they supported a certain candidate and honestly be able to be impartial in covering a race. I chatted with another committee member, who emigrated from Russia thirty years ago, and hates going back because it is so not like the freedom we feel here in the US. The candidate's treasurer taught me a little bit about campaign finance.
And I rapped a little with candidate himself, who was second-guessing his decision to get to the event on time, rather than making a grand (and tardy) entrance to a full room. I reassured him that it communicated to his guests that he was "of them," to which he agreed: "I'm here early to help set up chairs and food; I guess that's the kind of guy I am." All in all, it was an educational and enjoyable evening. I might just have to try this cocktail party strategy again.
2.11.2003
CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATIONS
I am not naturally a good listener. But it is my hope that I can be helpful to people who need someone to listen to them, partly because I work hard to listen well, and partly because I work hard to be available to listen. I had two conversations today with people who greatly honored me by sharing their situations with me. I am honored because these people value me enough to seek me out for empathy and advice. And I am honored because these people trust me enough to share sensitive issues without betraying such information to others.
I obviously cannot and do not want to share the content of these two conversations. I do want to talk about the conversations themselves. Being a natural problem-solver, I have had to work hard -- against my nature -- to be more of what people seem to need more than solutions to problems. "I hear you." "That must be difficult." "It sounds like this is what you are saying." When people used to thank me after a conversation like that, I used to say (or at least think), "But I didn't do anything." But I did. I listened.
It is still difficult to do, just listen. Sometimes it's because I think I know "the answer," although I'm learning I usually don't, and even if I do it is sometimes wise to let people discover the answer on their own -- or even more often, they know the answer but it's not what they need in the moment. Sometimes it's a struggle for me because I don't know "the answer," and that feeling of helplessness is hard to reconcile with wanting so desperately to help. But I am learning to be patient with myself and with others, with God and with His process of bringing resolution to difficult situations.
I am not naturally a good listener. But it is my hope that I can be helpful to people who need someone to listen to them, partly because I work hard to listen well, and partly because I work hard to be available to listen. I had two conversations today with people who greatly honored me by sharing their situations with me. I am honored because these people value me enough to seek me out for empathy and advice. And I am honored because these people trust me enough to share sensitive issues without betraying such information to others.
I obviously cannot and do not want to share the content of these two conversations. I do want to talk about the conversations themselves. Being a natural problem-solver, I have had to work hard -- against my nature -- to be more of what people seem to need more than solutions to problems. "I hear you." "That must be difficult." "It sounds like this is what you are saying." When people used to thank me after a conversation like that, I used to say (or at least think), "But I didn't do anything." But I did. I listened.
It is still difficult to do, just listen. Sometimes it's because I think I know "the answer," although I'm learning I usually don't, and even if I do it is sometimes wise to let people discover the answer on their own -- or even more often, they know the answer but it's not what they need in the moment. Sometimes it's a struggle for me because I don't know "the answer," and that feeling of helplessness is hard to reconcile with wanting so desperately to help. But I am learning to be patient with myself and with others, with God and with His process of bringing resolution to difficult situations.
2.10.2003
A NEW GENERATION OF ENTREPRENEURS
I wear two hats at work. One is that I run a youth entrepreneurship program. The other is that I am a consultant to organizations around the world who want to replicate our programs -- business incubation, training classes, and youth entrepreneurship. Right now, I'm on sabbatical from running the youth entrepreneurship program, so my full-time gig is consulting. One of my clients is an economic development agency in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, which wants to host a business camp for urban teens this summer. This camp will be based on our Boot Camps, which we have hosted every August since 1998.
It has been energizing to advise this group on how to plan, recruit, and fundraise for this event. I first started our youth entrepreneurship program in Philadelphia because I earnestly believed that even the roughest sections of our city were teeming with smart and creative young minds that, if given a stimulating environment and steady encouragement, could be cultivated in tomorrow's business superstars and community leaders. I do not seek to glamorize my work, because it is not glamorous; and I do not seek to patronize the students in my program, because they deserve better than that. The job is a hard one, but it is richly rewarding one, and it is a high honor for me and for my staff to know that we get to walk alongside such wonderful talents at such a formative time in their lives.
It is this same passion which motivates me to help out in other places like Harrisburg, or Dallas, or St. Petersburg, two other cities I've helped out in. All of the talk from politicians about how kids are the most important thing and education is the number one priority often disgusts me. I have been to places that are forgotten in this time of war and terrorism, that were forgotten during the economic boom of the late 1990's, and that have been forgotten for the greater part of a century. It is a damning indictment that there should be any children anywhere in the world that should suffer from malnourishment, neglect, and second class citizenry. It is doubly damning that such a thing could exist in the world's richest country and in that country's richest metropolitan areas.
I am not a ranter, although I am cultivating that side of me. I would like to say that I am more of a doer. And I pray to God daily that He will use my availability first, and the talents and experiences He has given me second, to help raise up a new generation of socially-minded and financially-savvy entrepreneurs from places that many in our society have either forgotten, want to forget, or never bothered to remember.
We cannot live forever, try as we might. We can cheat death for awhile and do what we can to take care of ourselves, shield ourselves from harm, do as much good for ourselves as possible. Or we can pour ourselves out for others, embrace life in all of its suffering and injustice, do as much for others as possible. Only one of these roads leads to eternal life. By grace, I pray I will choose it. "For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel's will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? For what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Mark 8:35-37)
I wear two hats at work. One is that I run a youth entrepreneurship program. The other is that I am a consultant to organizations around the world who want to replicate our programs -- business incubation, training classes, and youth entrepreneurship. Right now, I'm on sabbatical from running the youth entrepreneurship program, so my full-time gig is consulting. One of my clients is an economic development agency in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, which wants to host a business camp for urban teens this summer. This camp will be based on our Boot Camps, which we have hosted every August since 1998.
It has been energizing to advise this group on how to plan, recruit, and fundraise for this event. I first started our youth entrepreneurship program in Philadelphia because I earnestly believed that even the roughest sections of our city were teeming with smart and creative young minds that, if given a stimulating environment and steady encouragement, could be cultivated in tomorrow's business superstars and community leaders. I do not seek to glamorize my work, because it is not glamorous; and I do not seek to patronize the students in my program, because they deserve better than that. The job is a hard one, but it is richly rewarding one, and it is a high honor for me and for my staff to know that we get to walk alongside such wonderful talents at such a formative time in their lives.
It is this same passion which motivates me to help out in other places like Harrisburg, or Dallas, or St. Petersburg, two other cities I've helped out in. All of the talk from politicians about how kids are the most important thing and education is the number one priority often disgusts me. I have been to places that are forgotten in this time of war and terrorism, that were forgotten during the economic boom of the late 1990's, and that have been forgotten for the greater part of a century. It is a damning indictment that there should be any children anywhere in the world that should suffer from malnourishment, neglect, and second class citizenry. It is doubly damning that such a thing could exist in the world's richest country and in that country's richest metropolitan areas.
I am not a ranter, although I am cultivating that side of me. I would like to say that I am more of a doer. And I pray to God daily that He will use my availability first, and the talents and experiences He has given me second, to help raise up a new generation of socially-minded and financially-savvy entrepreneurs from places that many in our society have either forgotten, want to forget, or never bothered to remember.
We cannot live forever, try as we might. We can cheat death for awhile and do what we can to take care of ourselves, shield ourselves from harm, do as much good for ourselves as possible. Or we can pour ourselves out for others, embrace life in all of its suffering and injustice, do as much for others as possible. Only one of these roads leads to eternal life. By grace, I pray I will choose it. "For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel's will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? For what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Mark 8:35-37)
2.09.2003
WALKING THROUGH THE WILDERNESS SEASONS WITH A FRIEND
I got a call from a college buddy of mine this afternoon. One of his housemates, who we'll call Ben, has been depressed for the past few years, and has become particularly suicidal this month. Besides Ben's therapist and psychiatrist, my friend is the only other person who is aware of Ben's situation. My friend asked me what I thought he should do. I could tell he was asking partly for Ben's sake, but also for his own sake, so that he didn't have to feel alone in caring for his friend. I was honored that he would look to me for support and advice.
He told me he had talked with Ben about a plan for safety; i.e., "if you feel like you're going to hurt yourself, call me." And he told me he wanted to ask Ben if there were others in the church they both attend who he felt comfortable letting into his situation. I told my friend these were two wise moves. I was dismayed to hear my friend say that Ben was reluctant to share his situation with some of his Christian friends, because some had judged him for not being able to pray his way out of his depression, or for turning to prescribed anti-depressants rather than attending a healing service.
When will people, Christians of all, realize that mental illness is as biological and physical as having a stroke or catching pneumonia or breaking a bone? Because my wife is in the mental health profession, I have joined her on this crusade to enlighten an ignorant society. And because we are both Christians who believe in the love of God in the midst of wilderness seasons, we stand disgusted at Christians who demonize mental illness and question the faith of those who most need love and acceptance.
I'd like to keep this entry short, but I fear I have opened a floodgate of rantings. I could go on. But I won't. What is important for today's entry is that my friend seeks to be as supportive as possible to Ben, as Ben walks through this wilderness season. And I seek to help my friend to play that role of friend and supporter, in a way that does not drain him but that draws him closer in his limitations to the God who is without limits in love and wisdom.
The message of the gospel is that while evil may co-exist with us for a season, it has been defeated for eternity by a Savior who triumphed not with guns or shouts but with meek submission and sacrificial love. And the message of the gospel is also the messenger of the gospel: Jesus of Nazareth, who comforts us in all affliction, walks with us in wilderness times, and gives us faith and courage and hope and purpose to walk with others in their wilderness times. By His grace and strength, I am privileged to walk this walk with my friend, who seeks by that same grace and strength to walk this walk with Ben.
I got a call from a college buddy of mine this afternoon. One of his housemates, who we'll call Ben, has been depressed for the past few years, and has become particularly suicidal this month. Besides Ben's therapist and psychiatrist, my friend is the only other person who is aware of Ben's situation. My friend asked me what I thought he should do. I could tell he was asking partly for Ben's sake, but also for his own sake, so that he didn't have to feel alone in caring for his friend. I was honored that he would look to me for support and advice.
He told me he had talked with Ben about a plan for safety; i.e., "if you feel like you're going to hurt yourself, call me." And he told me he wanted to ask Ben if there were others in the church they both attend who he felt comfortable letting into his situation. I told my friend these were two wise moves. I was dismayed to hear my friend say that Ben was reluctant to share his situation with some of his Christian friends, because some had judged him for not being able to pray his way out of his depression, or for turning to prescribed anti-depressants rather than attending a healing service.
When will people, Christians of all, realize that mental illness is as biological and physical as having a stroke or catching pneumonia or breaking a bone? Because my wife is in the mental health profession, I have joined her on this crusade to enlighten an ignorant society. And because we are both Christians who believe in the love of God in the midst of wilderness seasons, we stand disgusted at Christians who demonize mental illness and question the faith of those who most need love and acceptance.
I'd like to keep this entry short, but I fear I have opened a floodgate of rantings. I could go on. But I won't. What is important for today's entry is that my friend seeks to be as supportive as possible to Ben, as Ben walks through this wilderness season. And I seek to help my friend to play that role of friend and supporter, in a way that does not drain him but that draws him closer in his limitations to the God who is without limits in love and wisdom.
The message of the gospel is that while evil may co-exist with us for a season, it has been defeated for eternity by a Savior who triumphed not with guns or shouts but with meek submission and sacrificial love. And the message of the gospel is also the messenger of the gospel: Jesus of Nazareth, who comforts us in all affliction, walks with us in wilderness times, and gives us faith and courage and hope and purpose to walk with others in their wilderness times. By His grace and strength, I am privileged to walk this walk with my friend, who seeks by that same grace and strength to walk this walk with Ben.
2.07.2003
TOUGH TIMES
We got eight inches of snow in the middle of the night, effectively cancelling all of my work meetings. All the more time for me to catch up on my follow-up phone calls of organizations around the country that have expressed interest in purchasing some or all of the replication manuals I've developed at work. These manuals are designed to help organizations implement and run the same kinds of programs as we do here in West Philadelphia: business incubation, training classes, youth entrepreneurship.
In talking with good-hearted people around the country, a common thread I hear is the extended period of tight budgets, and the effect that's having on social programs and on organizational morale. The non-profit world is dependent on corporate and foundation giving, and with both tied to the state of the economy and the stock market, the debacle of the last three years has meant a drier funding pool and therefore less money for programs and staff.
For many, this is causing a knee-jerk "Not interested" response to my solicitations. For others, it is a time for therapeutic venting; a kindred spirit from Philadelphia has called me, and now I can bare my soul and express my frustrations. For still others, they see my products as necessary for building greater entrepreneurial muscle in their communities, so that there is a broader base of commercial activity, rather than an unhealthy dependence on the one or two big corporations in town.
Regardless, it's been interesting to talk to people from California to Maine, from South Dakota to Texas, and everywhere in between. The business incubator industry, though small, is tight-knit; and it's an honor and a pleasure for me to know that I can help contribute to its advancement. I strongly believe that the economy will have its boom times and its bust times, but that at all times, we must do what we can to stimulate entrepreneurship, especially in our nation's most distressed urban centers.
We got eight inches of snow in the middle of the night, effectively cancelling all of my work meetings. All the more time for me to catch up on my follow-up phone calls of organizations around the country that have expressed interest in purchasing some or all of the replication manuals I've developed at work. These manuals are designed to help organizations implement and run the same kinds of programs as we do here in West Philadelphia: business incubation, training classes, youth entrepreneurship.
In talking with good-hearted people around the country, a common thread I hear is the extended period of tight budgets, and the effect that's having on social programs and on organizational morale. The non-profit world is dependent on corporate and foundation giving, and with both tied to the state of the economy and the stock market, the debacle of the last three years has meant a drier funding pool and therefore less money for programs and staff.
For many, this is causing a knee-jerk "Not interested" response to my solicitations. For others, it is a time for therapeutic venting; a kindred spirit from Philadelphia has called me, and now I can bare my soul and express my frustrations. For still others, they see my products as necessary for building greater entrepreneurial muscle in their communities, so that there is a broader base of commercial activity, rather than an unhealthy dependence on the one or two big corporations in town.
Regardless, it's been interesting to talk to people from California to Maine, from South Dakota to Texas, and everywhere in between. The business incubator industry, though small, is tight-knit; and it's an honor and a pleasure for me to know that I can help contribute to its advancement. I strongly believe that the economy will have its boom times and its bust times, but that at all times, we must do what we can to stimulate entrepreneurship, especially in our nation's most distressed urban centers.
2.06.2003
WORKING FOR ETERNITY
Today was the fifth monthly meeting of a one-year leadership class I have been taking since September 2002. It's for professionals to take a step back from the hustle and bustle of daily crises, and to nurture a long-term perspective on executive leadership, personal legacy, and community stewardship. Today, we spent the entire morning on "emotional competence," which speaks to the importance of the behavioral side of leadership. In other words, past the technical skills, educational pedigree, and field experience, great leaders set themselves apart by their ability to know themselves, manage their emotions, and empathize with others.
It was a controversial topic for some, whose initial reaction was that this was all too touchy-feely. Others dismissed as a "well, duh," as in, "Well, duh, be nice to people; wow, I'd never thought of that before." I harbored some of these opinions. In general, where this class has been helpful hasn't been as much learning new things (although certainly I've learned my share) but rather being able to put a vocabulary, emphasis, and discipline to obvious things that sometimes get lost in the shuffle. In other words, no one would disagree that emotional competence isn't important. Our problem as leaders, though, is we fail to put that head knowledge into action, because we get lost in the tyranny of the urgent, or because we undervalue its importance as a leadership tool in our repetoire of tools.
The concept of "legacy" -- that our goal as leaders is to so resonate with our staff, stakeholders, and society that we leave an indelible and lasting mark from our work -- has been repeatedly stressed, and rightly so, in my opinion. We all would agree that we should take time to listen, that we should do the right thing even if it costs us in the short run, and that we should cultivate sustainable strategies and policies. But we lose sight of such good intentions in the face of checking off the ten things on our to-do list, meeting quarterly earnings figures, and preparing ourselves for re-election in less than two years.
Do you understand what I'm saying? We all want to act in the long-term best interests of ourselves and others, and want others to act similarly, and yet almost everything that rewards and punishes us does so for short-term results. I learned this disconnect in my Management 101 class eleven years ago, and I have seen it come into play in almost every aspect of life. How are we to break out of this cycle?
Well, for one, that's one of the reasons I like this leadership class so much; it forces us out of our tiny worlds and helps us to see further around us and further into our futures. But ultimately, I think that one thing I have working in my favor is that I believe in God and in the eternality of souls, both mine and those around me, and in the eternality of God's Kingdom. I believe that people last forever, whether they spend most of that eternity in heaven or in hell. And I believe that while human institutions and buildings and systems are finite, they are part of a cosmic system that God is moving all of life towards.
So to fight and sweat and lobby for people and for justice is not in vain. While we may not be rewarded in the short term or even in this life, we can expect that our labor is not in vain. Everything we do -- our prayers, our acts of compassion, our fight for justice -- is for eternity. If we who believe in the purposes of God and the eternality of souls can genuinely live this way, we can break out of this system which hopes for long-term perspective and rewards short-term results, and we can do amazing works of love and righteousness.
Today was the fifth monthly meeting of a one-year leadership class I have been taking since September 2002. It's for professionals to take a step back from the hustle and bustle of daily crises, and to nurture a long-term perspective on executive leadership, personal legacy, and community stewardship. Today, we spent the entire morning on "emotional competence," which speaks to the importance of the behavioral side of leadership. In other words, past the technical skills, educational pedigree, and field experience, great leaders set themselves apart by their ability to know themselves, manage their emotions, and empathize with others.
It was a controversial topic for some, whose initial reaction was that this was all too touchy-feely. Others dismissed as a "well, duh," as in, "Well, duh, be nice to people; wow, I'd never thought of that before." I harbored some of these opinions. In general, where this class has been helpful hasn't been as much learning new things (although certainly I've learned my share) but rather being able to put a vocabulary, emphasis, and discipline to obvious things that sometimes get lost in the shuffle. In other words, no one would disagree that emotional competence isn't important. Our problem as leaders, though, is we fail to put that head knowledge into action, because we get lost in the tyranny of the urgent, or because we undervalue its importance as a leadership tool in our repetoire of tools.
The concept of "legacy" -- that our goal as leaders is to so resonate with our staff, stakeholders, and society that we leave an indelible and lasting mark from our work -- has been repeatedly stressed, and rightly so, in my opinion. We all would agree that we should take time to listen, that we should do the right thing even if it costs us in the short run, and that we should cultivate sustainable strategies and policies. But we lose sight of such good intentions in the face of checking off the ten things on our to-do list, meeting quarterly earnings figures, and preparing ourselves for re-election in less than two years.
Do you understand what I'm saying? We all want to act in the long-term best interests of ourselves and others, and want others to act similarly, and yet almost everything that rewards and punishes us does so for short-term results. I learned this disconnect in my Management 101 class eleven years ago, and I have seen it come into play in almost every aspect of life. How are we to break out of this cycle?
Well, for one, that's one of the reasons I like this leadership class so much; it forces us out of our tiny worlds and helps us to see further around us and further into our futures. But ultimately, I think that one thing I have working in my favor is that I believe in God and in the eternality of souls, both mine and those around me, and in the eternality of God's Kingdom. I believe that people last forever, whether they spend most of that eternity in heaven or in hell. And I believe that while human institutions and buildings and systems are finite, they are part of a cosmic system that God is moving all of life towards.
So to fight and sweat and lobby for people and for justice is not in vain. While we may not be rewarded in the short term or even in this life, we can expect that our labor is not in vain. Everything we do -- our prayers, our acts of compassion, our fight for justice -- is for eternity. If we who believe in the purposes of God and the eternality of souls can genuinely live this way, we can break out of this system which hopes for long-term perspective and rewards short-term results, and we can do amazing works of love and righteousness.
2.05.2003
POLITICAL NOVICE
The David Oh campaign kick-off dinner at Chinatown this evening was an interesting mix of spirited feel-goodism and political reality. On the one hand, to a person we all agreed that we supported the candidate first and foremost because of his honesty, sincerity, and integrity. All politicians say they are of and for the people, we all said, but with David, we know it to be true. And so to campaign and strategize and seek to win kindled the idealist in all of us, whether we were new to politics or old, crusty, and jaded.
But there was also a heavier side to the meeting. I sat amongst many gnarled politicos, veterans of countless cycles of campaigns and elections. The gossip about the goings-on in City Hall and Harrisburg bounced across the table like ping pong balls at the lottery. Every so often, I would gasp in mock horror, to the delight of those regaling in the stories. They enjoyed my exaggerated naivete. The funny thing is that in most cases, I really am that naive.
The campaign manager introduced himself and rattled off a litany of his accomplishments in securing victory for those he endorsed, while the veterans nodded their heads, as if to recollect on hard-fought battle victories and painful defeats. Me, being the political novice, shuffled nervously in my chair, not because I didn't feel good about something, but because it all seemed so new to me, this political air that I was breathing.
David will continue to play the straight and narrow, because that's who he is, and appeal to voters as an outsider, because most certainly that's who he is. In fact, the very fact that he is not endorsed by the powers that be is to be used to his advantage in this campaign, if his advisors can help it. That being said, there is a game to this thing called politics, and David intends to play the rules and play to win. I'll be interested to see how this whole thing unfolds. And I'll be interested to see what parts of this political game I like and don't like, and which parts I agree with and which I find repulsive.
The David Oh campaign kick-off dinner at Chinatown this evening was an interesting mix of spirited feel-goodism and political reality. On the one hand, to a person we all agreed that we supported the candidate first and foremost because of his honesty, sincerity, and integrity. All politicians say they are of and for the people, we all said, but with David, we know it to be true. And so to campaign and strategize and seek to win kindled the idealist in all of us, whether we were new to politics or old, crusty, and jaded.
But there was also a heavier side to the meeting. I sat amongst many gnarled politicos, veterans of countless cycles of campaigns and elections. The gossip about the goings-on in City Hall and Harrisburg bounced across the table like ping pong balls at the lottery. Every so often, I would gasp in mock horror, to the delight of those regaling in the stories. They enjoyed my exaggerated naivete. The funny thing is that in most cases, I really am that naive.
The campaign manager introduced himself and rattled off a litany of his accomplishments in securing victory for those he endorsed, while the veterans nodded their heads, as if to recollect on hard-fought battle victories and painful defeats. Me, being the political novice, shuffled nervously in my chair, not because I didn't feel good about something, but because it all seemed so new to me, this political air that I was breathing.
David will continue to play the straight and narrow, because that's who he is, and appeal to voters as an outsider, because most certainly that's who he is. In fact, the very fact that he is not endorsed by the powers that be is to be used to his advantage in this campaign, if his advisors can help it. That being said, there is a game to this thing called politics, and David intends to play the rules and play to win. I'll be interested to see how this whole thing unfolds. And I'll be interested to see what parts of this political game I like and don't like, and which parts I agree with and which I find repulsive.
2.04.2003
SOLD OUT FOR JESUS
Today, I had two meetings with people who are sold out for Jesus. This morning, I met with the youth director at our church. The committee I chair as an elder is the youth group, so my main responsibility is to be a support to our youth director. Her name is Shabrae and she is sold out for Jesus. This is a person for whom becoming intimately acquainted with city kids and their struggles is both her job and her passion. It is a high honor and a sober responsibility for me to be able to help her navigate through all of the emotions, frustrations, and joys that go into this line of ministry.
This evening, I was among a handful of family and friends who gathered to pray for a married couple who is considering overseas missions, and is about to leave on a six-week survey trip to meet missionary agencies and talk with missionary families. It was a powerful and meaningful time of sharing and prayer. We laughed, we cried, and we ran the gamut of emotions with Courtney and Ian: fear, excitement, love, anticipation, wonder, and worry. They do not forsake the comforts of Western life because it is a noble sacrifice, but because their love for God and God's love for the world compels them. They, too, are sold out for Jesus. And I am honored to know them and to support them in prayer.
Today, I had two meetings with people who are sold out for Jesus. This morning, I met with the youth director at our church. The committee I chair as an elder is the youth group, so my main responsibility is to be a support to our youth director. Her name is Shabrae and she is sold out for Jesus. This is a person for whom becoming intimately acquainted with city kids and their struggles is both her job and her passion. It is a high honor and a sober responsibility for me to be able to help her navigate through all of the emotions, frustrations, and joys that go into this line of ministry.
This evening, I was among a handful of family and friends who gathered to pray for a married couple who is considering overseas missions, and is about to leave on a six-week survey trip to meet missionary agencies and talk with missionary families. It was a powerful and meaningful time of sharing and prayer. We laughed, we cried, and we ran the gamut of emotions with Courtney and Ian: fear, excitement, love, anticipation, wonder, and worry. They do not forsake the comforts of Western life because it is a noble sacrifice, but because their love for God and God's love for the world compels them. They, too, are sold out for Jesus. And I am honored to know them and to support them in prayer.
2.03.2003
TO TURN SORROW INTO CHRISTIAN PURPOSE
This year, I'm participating in my first political campaign. A colleague of mine, David Oh, is running for City Council at Large here in Philadelphia. He is a Korean-American Republican who runs his own law firm. I trust this guy, and know that his heart is for God and for justice; sadly, I haven't yet met another politician that I can say that about. He's running on a platform of education, entrepreneurship, and immigration as three ways to stem the population loss our city has experienced over the past fifty years, due to the decline of manufacturing and to long-term social and racial trends.
Today, he officially announced his candidacy at a church cemetery near Independence Hall. Also known as the "Church of Patriots", it is the final resting place for a number of Revolutionary War heroes. David's cousin, In-Ho Oh, is also buried there. From David's written announcement, which was sent to all campaign committee members late last week: "[In-Ho] was 26 years old when he was killed by a gang of juveniles in 1958. As a result of his death, church and civic leaders joined public officials in an intense effort to address issues of social inequality, juvenile delinquency and criminal justice. They kindly provided this land for his burial. His tombstone simply reads, 'To turn sorrow into Christian purpose'."
In a city with plenty to be sorrowful about, I can think of no better an anthem for the urban Christian. May He bless this campaign, and our lives, with His purpose.
This year, I'm participating in my first political campaign. A colleague of mine, David Oh, is running for City Council at Large here in Philadelphia. He is a Korean-American Republican who runs his own law firm. I trust this guy, and know that his heart is for God and for justice; sadly, I haven't yet met another politician that I can say that about. He's running on a platform of education, entrepreneurship, and immigration as three ways to stem the population loss our city has experienced over the past fifty years, due to the decline of manufacturing and to long-term social and racial trends.
Today, he officially announced his candidacy at a church cemetery near Independence Hall. Also known as the "Church of Patriots", it is the final resting place for a number of Revolutionary War heroes. David's cousin, In-Ho Oh, is also buried there. From David's written announcement, which was sent to all campaign committee members late last week: "[In-Ho] was 26 years old when he was killed by a gang of juveniles in 1958. As a result of his death, church and civic leaders joined public officials in an intense effort to address issues of social inequality, juvenile delinquency and criminal justice. They kindly provided this land for his burial. His tombstone simply reads, 'To turn sorrow into Christian purpose'."
In a city with plenty to be sorrowful about, I can think of no better an anthem for the urban Christian. May He bless this campaign, and our lives, with His purpose.
2.02.2003
SHARE THE LOVE THAT KNITS A CHURCH TOGETHER
My first post. Why am I blogging? I love to write as a way of processing and recording my thoughts, but with the exception of my own private journal (which obviously is not for public consumption), most of what I write is fairly polished and relatively infrequent. I want to use this space to record daily thoughts in a less edited, freer manner. (Which means I'm going to try really hard to just let my thoughts go, rather than choose my words carefully.)
So today's thought is about church this morning. The first Sunday of every month, we serve Communion. For about a year, we've had time before the serving of the elements to allow those who want prayer for healing to come forward. As an elder, I have the privilege of sometimes being one of the people to serve the elements and to pray for people. Today, I was paired up with Scott, another elder.
A middle-aged man -- we'll call him Ron -- sauntered forward and told Scott and I that he had been diagnosed as HIV-positive last month. Ron said that in addition to physical healing, he needed help dealing with the emotional fallout of this "death sentence," and that he also wanted to join our church and "get right with God." "Physical, emotional, and spiritual," I said. "The church is for hurting people. We're all hurting," said Scott. Ron said, "Yes, that's why I'm here."
Scott and I prayed for Ron, hugged him, and offered to talk with him after the service. I won't record what Ron told Scott and I after the service about his previous life, because that's not relevant. What is relevant is that I go to a church where people, in interacting with our members, experience the love of God in the midst of life's hardships. Ron appreciated our ears and our prayers, but Scott and I felt like the grateful ones. For we had been given the opportunity to be part of the body of Christ, and to experience and share the love that knits a church together.
My first post. Why am I blogging? I love to write as a way of processing and recording my thoughts, but with the exception of my own private journal (which obviously is not for public consumption), most of what I write is fairly polished and relatively infrequent. I want to use this space to record daily thoughts in a less edited, freer manner. (Which means I'm going to try really hard to just let my thoughts go, rather than choose my words carefully.)
So today's thought is about church this morning. The first Sunday of every month, we serve Communion. For about a year, we've had time before the serving of the elements to allow those who want prayer for healing to come forward. As an elder, I have the privilege of sometimes being one of the people to serve the elements and to pray for people. Today, I was paired up with Scott, another elder.
A middle-aged man -- we'll call him Ron -- sauntered forward and told Scott and I that he had been diagnosed as HIV-positive last month. Ron said that in addition to physical healing, he needed help dealing with the emotional fallout of this "death sentence," and that he also wanted to join our church and "get right with God." "Physical, emotional, and spiritual," I said. "The church is for hurting people. We're all hurting," said Scott. Ron said, "Yes, that's why I'm here."
Scott and I prayed for Ron, hugged him, and offered to talk with him after the service. I won't record what Ron told Scott and I after the service about his previous life, because that's not relevant. What is relevant is that I go to a church where people, in interacting with our members, experience the love of God in the midst of life's hardships. Ron appreciated our ears and our prayers, but Scott and I felt like the grateful ones. For we had been given the opportunity to be part of the body of Christ, and to experience and share the love that knits a church together.
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