I dreamt last night that Jordin (my co-manager at the Bridge Cafe) and I were attending Catalyst (though for some reason it was being held in a large gymnasium).  We were instructed to get up and introduce ourselves around, and as we did so, I ran into Mike Foster of Deadly Viper fame (who was much shorter than I thought he’d be), as well as Justin and Patrick Smith (two of my former students at Parkade).

As we sat back down, the next speaker was announced as Joel Osteen (which surprised me a little).  I was surprised even more when he got up sporting 2-day stubble.  He began to speak and got very emotional.  Soon, as he began to pace up and down the isles, there was not a dry eye in the house, including Jordin’s and my own.

But when he reached my seat, he asked for the mostly empty Dr. Pepper bottle at my feet.  I gave it to him and he proceeded to pull out a knife (which did not startle anyone) and puncture the Dr. Pepper bottle, which then began to leak precious, life-giving nectar.  He observed how inefficiently the liquid leaked out of the bottle and asked us to observe what happened when he put a second hole in the bottle.

Once the bottle had two holes in it, and thanks to the abundant economy of the dreaming, DP flowed freely from the nearly-empty bottle.  And here’s where it gets weird: Joel Osteen now tried to get me to drink the DP water-fountain style, and ended up spilling it all over me.  His reaction indicated that he did not mean to do that.

Then my phone rang and I was pulled out of the dream before I could discover the meaning of this message illustration, so I’m turning to you with this question:

WHAT WAS JOEL OSTEEN GOING TO TELL US?

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I’d love to know what you think of this dream, maybe where some of the elements came from.  I think I’ve figured out where a lot of them came from, and I put them below.  To read them, highlight over the blank space with your mouse. 

Here are some of my thoughts on where some of it came from:

1. Catalyst is the best conference ever.  It is the conference of my dreams.  But I also enjoyed the smaller, more intimate feel of Catalyst One Day (hence the gym).  At that One Day, Andy Stanley told a story about an interview he and Osteen gave together.

2. I was hoping to meet Mike Foster at Catalyst 09 but did not get to see him.

3. Dr. Pepper is the best drink in the Universe. Of course this holds true for dreams as well.

4. Two nights ago, Manda gave me a bottle of Cherry DP that I opened before it’d had time to settle; it exploded all over me.

So, what are your ideas?

I turn 29 on Friday, October 23.  Bottom line:

1. I don’t need any more stuff.  And there are people all over the world who live in crushing poverty.

2. Microfinance is the single best way to end systemic poverty, to teach people to pull themselves up out of generations of poverty.  Bar none.

3. HOPE INTERNATIONAL is an amazing organization that is making real, significant change in the Two-Thirds world right now.

What can you do?

CLICK HERE to give right now to support HOPE.  You can give as little as $1.00.  Or as much as you want.

Please give in honor of my big 2-9.  I’d love to raise $2,900 this week.  That would be 29 families lifted out of poverty in the next six months; 58 by my 30th birthday.  Nearly 60 families whose lives would be utterly transformed.

Once you’ve given, PLEASE TELL MORE PEOPLE!  More details below:

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Here’s the whole story:

I’m turning 29 this week on Friday, October 23.  My wife, Amanda and I moved to Dayton, OH about 2 1/2 months ago (a week after getting married) to work for Beavercreek Church of the Nazarene.  It’s been amazing so far (short version).

In fact, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how outrageously blessed I am right now.  And then, about one month ago, I read Tim Sanders’ blog about a guy named Ken Hertz who gave away his 50th birthday to CharityWater.org.  Ken raised over $50,000 by asking everyone he knew to donate to Charity Water instead of giving him anything.

I’ll all about copying a great idea, so I decided to give my birthday to HOPE INTERNATIONAL.  HOPE is a micro-finance organization, which basically means that they give very small loans (usually $50-$200) to persons in the two-thirds world.  I won’t bore you with the details (though you absolutely should research this for yourself), but here’s the bottom line:

Microfinance is the single best way to end systematic poverty in the world. That is not an overstatement.  I had the opportunity back in May to travel with a group to the Dominican Republic to witness first-hand what HOPE can do.  HOPE’s programs lift people out of poverty and give them dignity.  Their motto is “A hand UP, not a handout”, and they live this out.  This is a grassroots, hardcore, 110% committed company whose staff and president utterly embody the values and vision they’re communicating to their clients.  I got to watch what they do first-hand, and I can tell you that they are utterly transforming entire communities with what they’re doing.  This really works.

Check out their site, decide what you want to give and then CLICK HERE to give!

Thanks so much everyone, for helping to make my 29th Birthday my best yet.  Please spread the word about HOPE!

Manda and I took yesterday (Friday) as a true day off; we did almost nothing other than going out to dinner and to the River Walk.  So we took much of today off as well, and really only went out for the evening to a place called Target: Dayton.  It’s a ministry that our church helps out once a month, and this was that weekend.  So we loaded up our gear, plugged the address into TomTom, and made it downtown.

We arrived and walked into a building with several persons waiting in line outside.  They took us for volunteers and let us inside, directing us downstairs.  We found some more BCN peeps and got our assignment: Tables 11 and 12 (though we still didn’t know what that meant).

We quickly discovered that we were to serve food to the various guests who were attending – many of whom are homeless, but many who also simply need a free meal in this harsh economic climate (Dayton has been hit harder than most cities due to a GM plant that closed here).

Before we served, we attended the Target: Dayton worship gathering (about which I’m blogging on my Xanga).  Then we headed back downstairs and – after everyone was seated and a prayer of thanksgiving offered – we began to serve.

I’m not sure I can describe how thrilling it was for me to serve my guests.  I had six at my table – a man and two women, all together, and three other men who came by themselves.  Two of the men were particularly talkative and we shared stories while I brought them salads, sloppy joes with potato chips and ice cream for dessert, plus water and coffee.  They were all kind (most of them were understandably distant), and I found myself thoroughly enjoying this chance to serve them, to treat them as my betters, and to listen to my wife do the same a table away.  JC (our executive administrator) and his wife Sheila (our children’s pastor) served near us as well, and several of our new friends came too.

All in all, I loved a chance for us to affirm the humanity of these people; many of them have been devalued by larger society, and I believe that Target:Dayton has found a kind and compassionate way to serve and love them without condescension.  And they do it about 6 times every week.

So if you’re visiting us some Saturday, we’re probably going to take you.

Tonight, Manda and I had a date night courtesy of our new friend Robert, who gave us $20 and a B1G1 coupon for Friday’s (how did he KNOW?!).  After dinner, we decided to head to downtown Dayton and try to find the Riverwalk (because we’d heard it was good).

We got downtown no problem (thanks, TomTom!) and we were pretty quickly able to get down to the Riverwalk.  We hope to explore it further in the future, but for our first time down there, it was really neat.

We’d been following the (Miami) river for about ten minutes when we were surrounded by loud ‘whooshing’ noises, and something exploded in front of us:

Allow me to explain what you’re seeing.  On the far left of the picture is a large metal cylinder in the middle of the river.  Out of the top of it is shooting a jet of water; it rises about 100 ft. into the air.  The stream of water in the middle of the picture is descending from a jet that is located about 50 ft. immediately in front of us.  The right jet is from another jet across the river:

 
Here’s a better picture of it.  In the top left, you can barely discern the falling stream from the jet in front of us.

All in all, there are five jets that surround the central hub; they apparently represent the five rivers that converge in Dayton (some of them are smaller, like Wolf Creek) and they go off once every hour.

Here are some more pictures:

 
This is a view to the left of the hub.  You can see, again, one of the jets and the stream of the leftmost jet.

 
This is the leftmost jet, which was spraying behind us.  This gives you an idea of just how far they spray.

All in all, Dayton seems like a really interesting town.  They place a high value on innovation and invention – being the home of the Wright brothers and all, so possibly because of that, they’ve got some really cool architecture.  Observe:

 
As cool as this looks, check out the bigger picture:

And here it is in the Eastern skyline:

But not to be outdone, here’s a building the Western side of the river offers:

I have no idea what either of the buildings are for, per say, but they are as unique and beautiful as the fountain.  I’m going to LOVE this town.

**This isn’t something I saw; rather it’s a story I told as a presentation of the Gospel at the MizzouBSU’s RealLife Thursday Night Live.  I would be interested in your thoughts.**

If we can say anything at all about our culture, it’s that we love stories. Look at our movies, our television, our sports, our gossip (talk radio, celeb magazines, sometimes our ‘prayer requests’). We are captivated by the power of the Story. And so for just a few minutes tonight, I want to look at a story from the Gospel of John. It takes place the morning of Jesus’ resurrection, and involves Mary of Magdala, one of Jesus’ closest followers. She and a couple of Jesus’ disciples go to visit his Tomb and find it empty. The other disciples leave, and Mary stays, weeping. Here’s where we pick up:

But Mary stood outside the tomb weeping. As she wept, she knelt to look into the tomb and saw two angels sitting there, dressed in white, one at the head, the other at the foot of where Jesus’ body had been laid. They said to her, “Woman, why do you weep?”  “They took my Master,” she said, “and I don’t know where they put him.” After she said this, she turned away and saw Jesus standing there. But she didn’t recognize him.  Jesus spoke to her, “Woman, why do you weep? Who are you looking for?”  She, thinking that he was the gardener, said, “Mister, if you took him, tell me where you put him so I can care for him.”  Jesus said, “Mary.”  Turning to face him, she said in Hebrew, “Rabboni!” meaning “Teacher!”  Jesus said, “Don’t cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I ascend to my Father and your Father, my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went, telling the news to the disciples: “I saw the Master!” And she told them everything he said to her.  — John 20:11-18

Why would Mary mistake Jesus for a gardener? Maybe it was still dark. Or perhaps we need to listen to the larger story, of which the Empty Tomb is the ending. I want to tell you God’s story as we have it in the Scriptures. Listen and see if you, too, can see what Mary saw.

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In the beginning, the Creator planted a beautiful garden. It was lush and fertile, overflowing with every kind of delicious fruit and vegetable imaginable, each one fully ripe, the flavors practically bursting through their skins before your teeth could break them. It was a perfect place. It was a wholesome place. It was a place where beauty was almost tangible, where you could see the health and perfection and wonder of the whole garden, just by looking around. And the Creator very much loved to take walks through his garden, to enjoy the subtle fragrances mixing together, shifting as he walked from one area to the next, to savor the sunlight as it played across the various plants, setting them on fire with reds and oranges or cooling them in deep blues and purples. As the Creator surveyed his garden, he sighed mightily, satisfied, and he said to himself, “This is good.”

It was so good, in fact, that the Creator wanted to share it beyond himself. And so he created the Man. How he loved those first days when the Man explored the garden, enjoying the sights and sounds and tastes and smells. One moment will forever hold a special place in his heart: He brought the Man to the center of the garden, where the trees were, those two trees. He stopped the Man there and said to him, ‘I have named you Adam because you are made of adamah, or dust. And just as I made this garden for us, I made you to take care of this garden with me. You will be my co-laborer, my gardener. You are going to work with me to keep this whole place beautiful.’ As the Man’s smile widened, the Creator turned to the trees to explain their nature to the Man: ‘Of all of the plants in this garden, these are the most important. One tree gives you life. You’ll live forever. This is tree I want to you eat from. I want you to experience life and this garden with me.’

‘And what of the Other?’ the Man asked.

‘The Other tree will give you the ability to choose your own way,’ said the Creator. ‘You will be able to decide your ways are better than my ways, that your plan for the Garden is better than mine. But you should know this: you cannot take care of the Garden without me. You are the gardener only because I am already gardening. You only know what to do because you have already seen me doing it.’

‘Hear me, Adam,’ the Creator said, ‘You can only eat from one of these trees. If you choose the Other tree, it means you’ll die. You can’t have life apart from me.’

I don’t know how many days passed between that conversation and Adam’s choice. I like to think that it was quite a while. I do know that the Creator made him a partner (but that’s a story for another time). I like to think that he and his partner were happy in the Garden with the Creator for a long time. And I don’t know why they chose what they did. I do know that eventually, Adam chose the Other tree. He chose to believe that his ideas were better than the Creator’s. That he could take care of the Garden on his own. And he died because of it. Oh not right away. No, actually, the rest of Adam’s long life was filled with the consequences of that fateful decision. I know he got to watch the beautiful Garden God had created consumed with violence and hatred and greed and all the other fruits that Other tree. And then, at the end of a long, hard and painful life, Adam and his wife, Eve, died. And they most certainly did not live happily ever after.

Now, as stories go, if that were the ending, it would make for a pretty depressing story, but also one that touches perhaps too closely to the truth of our lives. Because as Adam’s children, we all have made a habit of choosing that Other tree, of decided to go about life on our own, with little regard for the Creator’s desires for us and our world. To say it another way, we all think of ourselves as main characters in our own stories, rather than as characters in God’s story. And our world is proof of the truth of the Creator’s promise: our choice to tell our own stories has created a world that looks more like a grave than a garden. Adam’s legacy, our legacy, is death and destruction, not growth and goodness, not flourishing according to the Creator’s designs as he tells our stories. Our world of famine, rape, broken homes and broken hearts, of war and bloodshed, of children who die to young and old ignored and abused is a long way from that Garden, and we have lost the way back.

How fortunate for we sons of Adam and daughters of Eve that we were not left out here to wander in the dark and dead among the tombs! Because the Creator was not content to allow his children to destroy the world he’d created for them, nor to let them destroy themselves rather than live with him. Instead, God became human, one of us. And in doing so, he showed us what a rightly lived human life looks like. He showed us the Creator’s original plan for Adam.

He showed us a person who was more concerned about other people than himself. He showed us a person who gave his life over to the pursuit of Justice for all persons, not just those in power. And he showed us a person who did all of these things because he was first and foremost connected to the Creator, who only did what he saw the Creator doing, and – consequently – whose life was one long process of putting right the world we’d steered so horribly wrong.

And all of this culminated when he was in his early 30’s, during a holiday that celebrated the fact that the Creator is also the Liberator, that God not only brings about new life, but he restores that which was broken back to wholeness. During that holiday (called Passover), that God-become-human named Jesus took on the worst evils humanity had to offer and dared them to do their worst. We did what we have always done since we left the Garden – we killed. We brought about death. We slaughtered God and laid him in a Tomb.

The Second Adam had come to us that we might have life, that we might reconnect with God. That we might begin to fix what we had broken. He came into our darkness and offered to show us the ways of God that we had so long forgotten. And still, even after thousands of years of the pain of death, we chose the Other tree. We chose our own way. We killed the God made human.

And we declared it a Good Friday.

But as the Creator and the Liberator so often does, he redeemed us even from that choice. He set us free from that slavery to ourselves that we can’t seem to break. He took upon himself the first Adam’s death and destruction and offered us instead resurrection and restoration.

Because early on that Sunday morning, a new day began unlike any other in history. Jesus’ dead body was no longer dead. He moved; he sat up and removed his grave clothes, folded them neatly on the stone slab where he’d lain. And he emerged from the Tomb, from the place of death, from the consequences of Sin.

The Second Adam had defeated evil, death and sin. He had taken the worst we had to offer upon himself and by doing so placed himself between us and the death we’d called down upon ourselves and our world. And then he rose. He conquered. And so he walked out of the Tomb alive and well, ready to fulfill the work the first Adam had left undone.

So it’s not so great a surprise that, a few hours later, when Mary visits the Tomb to mourn, she mistakes him for the Gardener. Because he is the Gardener. But the whole world is his Garden, and he’s working towards the day when we’ll have no more Tombs. And no more suffering.

And if you’ll walk with him a ways, he’ll take you to that hill where he died. And he’ll point up to the tree on which they crucified him and say, ‘Child, if you continue to eat of this Other tree, if you choose to go your own way, you’ll die. Come with me and eat of the Tree of Life. Come join me once again in taking care of my Garden.”

I  just got done with Catalyst One Day, in Dallas, TX.  I got to hear from Andy Stanley and Craig Groschel for a full day, and it’s been amazing.  The conference got over at 5, and I don’t fly out until 9:45, so I decided to chill out at the church building rather than try to fight Dallas traffic.  I worked on some stuff for a while (including the previous post), and then talked to Manda (who’s at the BSU staff retreat).  THen I packed up my stuff, leaving it on the couch where I’d been sitting and went to say goodbye to Chad, my friend who works for Catalyst (and who invited me to the conference).

We chatted for a while, and when I returned for my stuff, a guy was laying on the couch with his feet up next to my bag (which was sitting on the edge of the couch).  I ran over and got my bag, apologizing for leaving it in his way.  He looked up and assured me it was no big deal, and that’s when I recognized our worship leader for the day.

Steve Fee.

(I think) I managed to suppress my geek-out and carry on a pretty normal conversation with him – about their summer tour schedule, his history with North Point, and vacation plans.  He was really gracious and cool, as were his bandmates who joined us.

At one point, I thanked him for his music.  I related how we brought back several of his songs to the BSU and they served as a catalyst for a lot of positive change in our musical worship, really encouraging us to think outside the box of what is normally acceptable.  He thanked me earnestly and told me that my words were encouraging to him, and with that I took off, braving the (less intense) Dallas traffic.

All in all, it was a great day.  I got to ask Andy Stanley a burning question, hang out with Chad and meet several other friends old and new.  Plus get to hang out with a songwriter I enjoy and admire.

Last night I flew into Dallas for the Catalyst One Day conference.  A friend of mine from undergrad saw I was coming in and got ahold of me, so we met up for (a very late) dinner.

Now this friend and I haven’t seen each other since 2003, but thanks to Interwebs, we have stayed in contact off-and-on.  A few months ago, she posted an honest, heartfelt note on Facebook, seeking to engage us in some dialogue about some issues within Christianity that have troubled her.  By the time I saw the note, quite a few persons had posted, including one individual who I’m sure was well-meaning, but whose posts were long and preachy, and which served to shut down discussion more than foster it.  My friend confessed to me that she deleted the note out of embarrassment.

Since I’d never had the chance to engage her post online, I brought it up last night over dinner, and we had a great conversation about her faith journey, doubts included.  I want to reflect for a moment on what she told me, and offer a couple of my thoughts.

She confessed that the picture of God that was most compelling to her right now is a god she can’t love.  That picture is the god of the New Calvinism, who predestines individuals either to salvation or damnation.  She told me that saw two pictures of God in the Bible – the vengeful, judgmental and capricious God who commands genocides and chooses our lives for us, then punishes us with eternal damnation for transgressions that are ultimately his responsibility, and the God who loves everyone, who gave up his life so that we might all be reunited with him.  Given these two pictures of God, my friend told me that she couldn’t accept that they were different gods, and that a God of love couldn’t be the God of judgment and ineffable choosing.  That a god who chooses to save some but not others doesn’t really love anyone, and – in her honest judgment – is not worthy of her own love.

We talked at great length about these pictures of God, and it’s not my purpose here to ask you for advice for her, or for you to ‘preach’ to her through my post.  Rather, I want to offer you a reflection on her experiences that have led her to this dilemma (as I am interpreting them)

What I find interesting in reflecting on my friend’s conundrum is that, ultimately, she rejected the God of Love rather than the cruel, capricious god.  In her mind (and I’m guessing probably subconsciously), she chose to believe that the texts that speak of a god of death and violence and irrational damnation are more true than the texts that speak of a self-giving, triune God.  She can’t accept texts that teach a God of Love because she finds the texts that speak of a god of violence more compelling.*  Why is this?  Why does she find the violent texts more compelling than the love texts?  Or, why didn’t she (probably subconsciously) accept the Love texts as the authoritative texts and have issues with the texts of violence?

I suggest (and forgive me, my friend, I have wronged you or misrepresented you), from conversation with my friend, that it’s because of the quality and character of those who claim to follow Jesus with whom she’s interacted of late.  In our conversation, many of her stories about her interactions with Christ-followers revealed them to be cold, distant and judgmental.  Much like the god she doesn’t find loveable in the Biblical texts.  I wonder, had most of the believers she’s met in recent years practiced the art of hospitality and generosity, if they had truly modeled the Jesus we meet in the Scriptures, if she would’ve gravitated towards the God of Love rather than the god of violence.  I wonder what her journey would look like.

In any case, I’m grateful that she’s still exploring, still listening to the Spirit within her who cries out to be known.  And I look forward to traveling a ways with her.

“Let the Peace of Christ rule in your hearts.”  Colossians 3:15

*I recognize that this is a conundrum many of us engage.  I know we all have ways to reconcile this.  I’m not interested in those right now; rather, I want to meet my friend on her journey and listen to her, to hear her.  I’d invite you to do the same.

Tonight, I was driving home from Manda’s house.  I was sitting at a stoplight at a major cross-road.  I looked down across the block to the next stoplight.  Cars were stopped at it as well, coming my direction, so their headlights cast a faint glow across the street on which I would soon be driving.

And that’s when I saw a large human-shaped silhouette stumbling down the middle of the street between the two lights.  As the far light changed and the cars began to come toward me, I watched them swerve to avoid the figure, whom I could no longer see once their headlights were passed him.  But I was pretty sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

Finally, my light changed and I headed across the intersection.  As I got closer to the figure, I was able to make out a giant black man – probably 6’5” and 300 lbs. (mostly in his belly).

And he was almost complete naked.

All he had on was a black speedo-thong, and shoes and socks.  The reason he appeared to be staggering was that he had a pair of white athletic pants around his ankles, and was stagger-stepping in them.  His eyes were sort of rolled back in his head; he looked very zombie-esque.

I was pondering whether to call the cops when I got to the next light.  As I turned to go down to my apartment, I stopped to talk to the cop who was sitting in the intersection, searchlight poking into the night.  I rolled down my window and – when she had rolled hers down as well – called out, “Are you looking for the dude who’s not wearing pants?”

“Um… yes.”

“He’s back down that way,” I said, as I pointed back the way I’d come.

“Thanks.”  And she drove off.  And I went home.

Just another night in the ‘hood.  At least my downstairs neighbor wasn’t smoking pot when I got home.

There’s a building that used to house a church just down the street from my church building.  It was – for the first four years or so I worked here – a Church of God in Christ.  But a couple of years ago, it closed its doors.  Apparently they’d brought in a new pastor to try to spice things up, but he’d not been able to do enough and so they had to close their doors.

The building’s been vacant for the past couple of years, and several different organizations have considered purchasing it – from our church (to use as a youth building) to another church in town to various businesses.

Today when I drove by, I noticed that it’s been turned into a funeral chapel.  And I was immediately saddened.  Because  what should have been a source of life to a broken community (this building is even closer to the ‘hood than my church building) is now instead a place of death.

I’m reminded of Nietzsche’s parable of the Idiot.  In it, an insane man is running around the German countryside, entering into various worship gatherings.  He proclaims upon entering, “God is dead!  God is dead, and it is you who have killed him!”  He goes on to criticize the believers gathered there for having the trappings of faith but none of the reality.  For having made Christ superfluous for Christianity.  He concludes, “What are churches today but tombs and sepulchers for a dead God?”

And seeing that building become a place of death in a place of death – rather than a lifebring to the dead world – illustrated for me the truth of Nietzsche’s words and the end of that sort of empty worship.

Today, as I was getting ready for my day, it occurred to me that I have very few places to interact with persons I don’t know.  So I took my laptop to Kaldi’s to work on my sermon for this coming Sunday.

At one point around lunch time, I had to go feed my parking meter, and two homeless guys stopped me.  They asked me for cash and – as I only had a few quarters – I told them I didn’t have any money, but that I would buy them lunch.

They refused.

Which made me sad, because I would’ve liked the chance to get to know them a little better.  But if you’re not hungry, you’re not hungry.

I’ve traditionally been a sucker for people begging on the street.  The bigger the sob story, the more I’ll give.  I’m learning to be more discerning, and to think of ways to meet at least immediate needs, far beyond just giving money. 

I’ll keep you updated on how that’s going.  Clearly, I’m having a rough start.