Suburban seduction

One of the things that used to surprise me about Urban Village is the number of people who live in the suburbs who come to worship with us. But when I think about it, someone driving in from Oak Park on a Sunday morning has a much quicker commute than someone taking the train from a North side neighborhood. A family of six has been coming from Elmhurst for the last three months or so and it's been a joy to have them attend. They invited my family to their home last night for dinner and we had a great time.

As we were driving around Elmhurst, it struck me that it had been a long time since I'd been in a suburb. As I looked around at the single-family homes with their Christmas lights and cozy streets, it was easy to be seduced by the desire to move back. We really do enjoy living in the city, but there's also something...I don't know...kind of desirable about going back.

I also know that while we enjoyed living in Highland Park and serving in Deerfield, there are issues with living in suburbia, too. There is no such thing as the perfect place to live. I'll take where we are.

I was reading Colossians 3:1-10 this morning and the phrase "seek the things that are above, where Christ is..." stuck with me. I've been working on being detached lately; that is, seeking God's leading and desires before my own (though I know they sometimes can be the same). I know where the author of Colossians is coming from, but on this day, it also strikes me that before we seek the things that are above, we must first look down below, about manger high.

Closer and closer

My column for the Urban Village eNews today: I was trekking up to Evanston yesterday on the Red Line when I noticed a woman board the train with a child attached to her. At least the child looked like he was attached. He was actually in a sling facing his mother and was fast asleep, which I always find a minor miracle considering loud the train can get around North & Clybourn. Despite the surrounding noise, it was a peaceful scene to behold. Mother and son. Winter wear notwithstanding, they were as close as they could be. I see a lot of images of the baby Jesus in the manger, but not as many of Mary holding Jesus, looking into his eyes, talking baby talk, nursing him. And yet these are the images that captivate me. This closeness between mother and son. I yearn to be ever closer to Jesus. Christmas reminds me that it's possible. If God can make up the gap between divinity and humanity through the birth of this child, surely that means it is always possible for you and I to draw closer, too. This is God's desire for all of us, I think. Like a mother feeling the weight of her son upon her, God desires to feel our weight and nearness. May be it be so this season and into the new year. Merry Christmas from all of us at Urban Village.

Chicago experiences

Chicago Experience of the Day 1

I ate at Lou Mitchell's yesterday for the first time in at least 10 years. LM is an institution in Chicago, located on Jackson, which used to be known as the beginning of Route 66. For some reason, my memory of it wasn't great, but I was pleasantly surprised yesterday. I went for the basics--bacon and eggs--but the service, presentation, and quality were all better than I expected. I even ate the prune that they give everyone. Interestingly, they also had NIV New Testaments at the cash register. I asked about them and the cashier said simply, "Those are from the owner. She goes to Moody." Doesn't hurt to ask.

Chicago Experience of the Day 2

I was walking home down Plymouth and came passed a town home with a sign that said "Candy Cane Lane." Not unusual, but as I went passed, I noticed that there was a tin hanging outside the home's gate with a bunch of candy canes in them. Free candy canes? I took one. My wife wondered if they were really meant for people walking down the sidewalk, but if it seems like an act of hospitality and neighborliness, I'm receiving it.

Growing up and the incarnation

I love my daughter's age right now. Nine. Eight was really good, too. Old enough to start becoming a person with whom I can have "real" conversations and start exploring some cool things in the city. Young enough before the tween and teen years which I can be fraught with issues, but I also sense those issues can be blown out of proportion.

In my sermon last Sunday, I shared about my wife's and my struggle to conceive Caroline and the many, many months and years of failed attempts and doubts. Because of the sermon, I spent a lot of time thinking about her birth day and the awe I felt at holding her in my arms. The connection to my sermon was that I was preaching about the incarnation and that Jesus' birth isn't some fairy tale, but was (and is) "really real." For a long time, the thought of us giving birth seemed like a fairy tale, too, until the day I actually saw and touched her and her eyelashes, fingernails, and slightly crooked ear lobe.

It's been an interesting balance reflecting on the joy of those memories and realizing that she's slowly but surely getting closer to being 10 and becoming friends that we wouldn't necessarily choose for her and desiring things (like an iTouch) that she's not ready for. She's a very centered girl who doesn't seem to get too high or too low by what goes on around her and I think that's a wonderful quality. But harder decisions are in the offing for us. Letting her be friends with girls whose personalities grate on us a bit. Saying no to an iTouch (though that wasn't a hard decision but it brings back memories of being envious of having friends who had things that I coveted).

Growing up and making these decisions is part of incarnation, I suppose. If we claim that this season is one when we praise God for becoming flesh, we also must realize that becoming flesh means growing pains. Thanks be to God for that.

Cafeteria Christians...in a good way

I've been noticing something lately.

I think I've read this somewhere so what I've noticed isn't exactly groundbreaking (and, who knows, may have been happening for centuries), but Urban Village seems to be drawing a few folks who claim their main membership in a church elsewhere (and are perfectly happy there), but come to Urban Village for...something. It might be a small group or a social gathering or our Wicker Park Sunday evening service, but they don't have a problem with feeding their souls in different contexts.

And it isn't just our church. I met a woman a few weeks ago who goes to worship at Moody, but goes to all the Willow Creek social stuff. I don't have deep sociological insights as to why this is, but it's something the church probably should pay attention to. The phrase "cafeteria Christians" is sometimes used in a derogatory way meaning that people pick and choose their theology based only on what they like and because of that they miss pieces in Scripture that they need to hear or pay attention to. I get that, though, of course I think we're all cafeteria Christians in some form or fashion. We all have our own canons, whether we admit it or not.

But I realize when it comes to spiritual formation, I've been a bit of a cafeteria Christian myself over the years. Obviously as the pastor of a church, I haven't jumped around a lot trying different things, but in my previous church, I would attend a weekly weekday Episcopalian service. When I need a retreat, I go to a Benedictine monastery. When I need to sense the mystery of God, I go to a Taize service at a Catholic church. I'm biased, of course, but I think it's important to stay rooted in a community of faith and make commitments there, but I also affirm a person's desire and need to explore the many ways we can experience the Spirit in our midst, whether it's high liturgy or rockin' gospel music.

Judge away

I'm preaching about service and ministry with the poor this Sunday and yet again I am convicted and humbled by the number of passages in the Scriptures that highlight God's preference for those on the outside looking in.

And yet people still want to judge one another based on their stance on issues like homosexuality because of a handful of passages. If you want to judge me or Urban Village Church, judge us on how we're treating the outcast and you'd probably find that we're lacking.

Speaking of homosexuality, though, I appreciated this podcast from Being (formerly Speaking of Faith): http://bit.ly/duDJG6. It's entitled "Restoring Political Civility: An Evangelical View."

Don't Walk

I've struggled with Sabbath-keeping, but the last couple of weeks, I've been better at it. My day off (Sabbath) that I try to guard is Monday and I'm still trying to get a handle on what behaviors I should give up and what behaviors I should take on. Here are the latest guidelines I've set for myself...

Thou shalt not go on Facebook or Twitter.

Thou shalt resist many temptations to use iPhone. I've done pretty well with this lately. I haven't carried it around with me and haven't checked email. I still check it occasionally throughout the day to check to see if I have any voice mails or texts, but I need to wean myself off that, too.

Thou shalt spend some time with your wife. That was easy today. Her birthday was yesterday and we celebrated at our favorite breakfast spot, the Sweet Maple Cafe in Little Italy. Seriously, the best pancakes I've ever had. We also spent some time at the Art Institute which leads me to...

Thou shalt do something beautiful. I don't know why I let my Art Institute membership lapse. It's a mile away from our home and, of course, has one of the greatest collections of beauty in the world. I re-upped last week and we spent 90 minutes there this morning. That's the great thing about being a member there. We can linger.

Thou shalt obey traffic signals. This may seem like an odd one, but it's one I've kept for a while and I like it. On other days, I'm constantly looking for opportunities to jaywalk (cross on a red light). It's pretty much a no-brainer in Chicago (and in most other towns and cities I assume). We're all very busy people, after all. But on Mondays, when the light says, Don't Walk, I don't walk. Even if there aren't any cars for miles around. It reminds me to literally stop and realize that I can stay for a few seconds longer. Nothing will happen any quicker if I try to race across the street.

Willing to give

I was in a bit of a hurry on Tuesday morning and didn't give myself enough time to be in prayer so I tried to meditate on the Green Line. It actually was going quite well. My eyes were closed. I was repeating, "Love the Lord your God with all your strength..." to myself. And then someone tapped me on the shoulder.

"Can I see that?" the woman said. I was holding the book I use for my devotions ("When You Pray," edited by Rueben Job) and the woman asked if she could take a look at it. I said sure and she started flipping through it, commenting on how she needs to pray more. As she was looking at it, I had a strong sense that God wanted me to give the book to her. I also was thinking, "But I really like that book!" You can buy them for $10, but I had a sentimental attachment to it. I decided, though, to go with the nudge from God.

"Would you like to have it?" I asked her. She smiled and graciously said yes. We talked some more. She was to go to court that day and said that this was an answer to prayer. She asked my name. I gave her my card, invited her to church, and she got off at the next stop.

We're spending some time at Urban Village talking about giving, particularly how we can give financially. It's not an easy discussion. It's tempting to hold onto our money pretty closely. But God sometimes nudges us to give something away in order for someone else to draw closer to God. Over the next couple of weeks, pray about what you might be willing to give. God might be nudging you in surprising ways.

A place where people know your name

The article I wrote for our church's e-newsletter yesterday: Quite a few years ago when I was going through the process of being ordained, I attended a conference with other pastors. As I was walking by myself in the lobby, I spotted a person who was pretty powerful in our denomination. He saw me, smiled, and waved, which made me feel pretty good because when you're still a "newbie" pastor, it's not a bad thing when influential people know you and like you. I smiled, waved back and started toward him. He stuck out his hand to me and said, "Hi Sean, how are you?" "I'm fine, I'm fine, thanks," I said through gritted teeth. Sean? Who's Sean? Does he even know me? It was a humbling experience. Trey talked about the power of name in a sermon a few weeks ago. We all like to hear our names said. We like to be known. There were so many people who came to one of our worship services last Sunday. More than 200 people total and many were there for the first time! Praise God! Our hope certainly is that many of you return for worship, but also that you find places where you might begin to be known. Our small groups are a great place to start as are three events coming up: a Taize worship service outing on Nov. 5, our first UVC pot luck on Nov. 7 and a bowling night on Nov. 13. You may not be quite ready to be known by others in our community, but even if you're not, know this: "...thus says the Lord: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine" (Isaiah 43:1." We are known (by name!) by God. Deeply and lovingly. No matter how many people I know in my life, that is what truly gives me peace and joy.

Questions

I've just started a Bible study last night looking at the Old Testament and whenever I begin a group like this, it's almost always the case that someone will bring up the issue of dumb questions.

We've all heard time and again that there's no such thing as a dumb question, but when it comes to God/faith/religion, it seems like people are really nervous about asking questions. Will God strike me down? Will my faith seem illegitimate? People who have grown up in the church seem particularly nervous about this. And yet all of the questions that were asked last night (like, does God change? It seems like God's character changes throughout the Bible. How can this be?) were provocative and have been fodder for wonderful discussion throughout our faith's history.

As well, a cursory look through the Bible shows that not only is questioning God acceptable, it's a given! Most of the figures of the Old Testament, many psalmists, all the prophets and even Jesus (Why have you forsaken me? is one of the most memorable questions of the Scriptures) all questioned God. And they weren't stricken down (though you could probably point out a few--like Zechariah in Luke 1--where their questioning leads to a less-than-positive outcome).

Questioning deepens faith and that includes questioning God and questioning religious leaders. Certainly it's a good thing to come out the other end at some point with an "I believe" statement or two, but I find that good questions usually gets you to stronger belief statements.

Slowly out of the funk

I've been in a bit of a funk the last few days and it mainly stems from "productivity" and "results." We seem to have a big cloud of witnesses who have come to Urban Village at least once. Word seems to be spreading. And yet average worship attendance hasn't increased like we thought. I fret way too much about this and it weighs me down.

So, last night, I did something small. That always seems to help. I was at a neighborhood community meeting (and a contentious one at that--I'd never experienced anything like it) and the room was packed with people who wanted to talk about things like parking spaces and parks. These are the things that can get the community juices flowing. About 45 minutes into the meeting, I noticed an older woman standing and listening. I stood up and offered my chair and she acted as if I'd just awarded her the lottery.

This morning, I was walking through Daley Plaza and a guy was standing on the corner handing out free tastes of Dove chocolate. I stopped by to get one and he told me, "Take a handful." So I did. I had a meeting in the Chicago Temple (First United Methodist) and shared my chocolate largesse with folks who worked in the building, brightening their day. One woman commented, "I really needed this today."

Such small, small things. But it's amazing how service can trump self-pity.

A backpack of faith

I took my daughter to her first day of school yesterday on the subway (which is a far cry from how I went to my first day in 4th grade in Eldora, Iowa!) It was pretty crowded as we squeezed in at the Roosevelt stop. One of the reasons it was crowded was the number of other students who were headed to school and they (like my daughter) all had their backpacks on filled with books and supplies. It became less congested at the Harrison stop because quite a few Jones College Prep students got off there, including one teen who I feared was going to topple over backward, he had so many books in his bag. Most nights I practice a spiritual discipline called the examen, which comes from St. Ignatius Loyola. It's basically a review of the day with God--an intentional time to give thanks and ask forgiveness. An image I find helpful as I go through this process is picturing myself wearing a "backpack of faith" and opening this backpack to show Jesus. It's amazing what I accumulate. Anxiety, fear, selfishness, and unhealthy anger, to name just a few things. All of that weighs me down like the Jones student. But then I imagine Jesus helping me take that stuff out and replacing it with courage, love, and forgiveness. And the load seems a lot lighter. "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light," Jesus says in Matthew. May we take on Jesus' yoke (or backpack) and allow him to take our burdens.

Changed lives, hearts, city

I love it when I come across a passage that I should be familiar with, but it's as if I'm reading it for the first time and it connects in a deep and real way.

We're getting together with the Urban Village community Sunday night to dream, discuss, and continue to get to know one another. I met with one member of our community yesterday who does leadership development for a living and we had a great discussion about how Sunday night should go, including making sure we're getting our purpose across. Are we doing this new church just because we have cool CTA ads? Of course not, but it drove me to search various commissioning stories and Luke 24:44-49 really struck me, particularly verse 47, which says (the resurrected Jesus is talking here, a little bit in the third person), "...and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem." Three things are here that sum up why I'm doing what I'm doing. Repentance=changed lives. Forgiveness=changed hearts. Jerusalem (or in my case Chicago)=changed city. Repentance is a bit of a loaded word for some but its root meaning points to a change of mind and life.

Why are we doing what we're doing? That sums it up. And it keeps me going day by day.

The wheels on the bus

I love the bus. I hate the bus. This is the dilemma.

I'm really starting to get the hang of mass transit and I'm learning more and more that, for the most part, I prefer the L to the bus. If there aren't many people on the bus and it doesn't creep and crawl along State Street (for example), I prefer the bus, but that doesn't seem to be happening lately. Plus there was incident yesterday that troubled me deeply.

We were moving so slowly south on State when a guy across the aisle started yelling at the bus driver. I really wasn't paying attention to what he was saying but a woman (she was probably in her late 60s/early 70s) said something back to him. He then let her have it verbally, starting swearing at her, made abusive comments about her age. And we all just sat there.

I don't really know what to do in those situations. This was a really big guy who was really belligerent and was also taking big swigs of beer while all this was going on. Do you stand up for the woman and incur his wrath? Tell the bus driver? He had to be hearing this. Or just do nothing and hope the woman isn't scarred by this incident. She didn't seem to be, but it really ticked me off and I wanted to get in this guy's face, which probably wouldn't have solved anything. Sigh. What would Jesus do, indeed.

Of course, I could also ride the L where just last Monday we got in and noticed that someone had vomited all over one of the seats.

Really wants to make you live in the city, no?

Thankful for Rochelle

My apologies to everyone who lives in Rochelle, IL, but I really didn't want to visit you last Friday. At first. I had to attend a United Methodist administrative-type meeting and was dreading the drive out there, but, thankfully, the traffic was clear and as soon as I made it out of the Chicagoland area, I was so glad for the trip. I'm not usually a country music fan, but I had a CD that someone gave me and it fit perfectly. Cornfields, small towns, lower gas prices.

Sometimes city living can be exhausting. I've been feeling that for the past few days. The litter gets to me as do the sirens and all-around congestion. I think I'm wise enough to know that I wouldn't be completely happy in a small town, but it was so nice just to connect to that simpler life; maybe it was connecting to a part of my story, too, seeing as I spent the first 24 years of my life in small(ish) towns.

It reminded me once again of the need for true Sabbath, a time to get out of my routine, go somewhere that isn't congested and just sit, stare, and be.

Finding God in Finding Nemo

Today is an anniversary of sorts. One year ago, Trey and I officially opened for business as Urban Village Church (though at the time we were nameless!). That's spurred a lot of reflection for me the last few days.

One of my favorite stories happened in April of '08. Trey and I had gone to a church-planting conference in Orlando and during one particular night, I remember being filled with excitement but also a great deal of anxiety as I wondered whether we could pull this off. As I sat there flipping through the television, I came across the movie "Finding Nemo." This kind of movie was exactly what I was in the mood for. And, believe it or not, I also believe that God spoke to me through that movie.

There's a scene where Nemo's dad (Marlin) and his companion (Dory--both of these characters are fish, I should add) are trapped inside a whale, clinging to the whale's tongue so they don't fall into the whale's stomach. As they're holding on for dear life, Dori swears that she can "speak whale" and says that the whale is telling them to let go of the tongue. That makes no sense to Marlin. Of course the whale wants us to let go, he says, the whale wants to eat us! Dory insists. Marlin says, how do you know something bad won't happen? Dori exclaims, I don't! But they let go, which allows the whale to blow them through its blowhole and they get out alive.

As soon as I watched that scene, I had a strange feeling that we could pull this new church off and the first thing I had to do was let go. Let go of trying to control. Let go of fear. Let go of anxiety. Trust that God had brought us this far and God would be with us as we moved. And God has.

Letting go is one of the hardest things to do in our faith, but when we do--when we trust that God is active in our lives and cares for us deeply--it's also the most freeing.

Following up on the nudges

It's one thing to recognize when you might have been nudged by God. It's another to actually follow through on the nudge. I think I have decent nudge recognition. But, unfortunately, that's as far as it goes.

Two examples from yesterday. I was walking down Michigan Avenue after having a fascinating conversation with a Pauline nun who's an avid blogger (they run the Pauline bookstore on Michigan and Lake) and a woman walks by me and she's clearly been crying. I noticed the tears. I noticed that she was wearing an Argo Tea t-shirt. Would it have hurt to ask, "Are you OK?" The worst that could have happened is that she ignores me or tells me to mind my own business. That was a nudge that I didn't do anything with.

Later in the day, I was walking home and noticed that our next-door neighbor was walking about a block ahead of me. We get along with our neighbors very well and a few weeks ago they mentioned they may come to church someday. Would it have hurt to call out to the neighbor and walk with her? No. But I just kept walking, minding my own business. Another nudge I ignored.

Seeing God in our daily lives is a beautiful thing. It also can be a time to respond, too.

Changed lives, changed city

My friends and family are probably tired of me talking about this, but I'm writing to you from Redlands, CA, where I'm speaking to different groups of United Methodist clergy and laity about the Urban Village experience.

I had my first presentation yesterday. It got off to a slow start with lots of people staring at me (so I perceived) with blank faces, but as I got going, I felt like I was connecting more. By the end, I was peppered with lots of great questions and a few challenges, too ("You claim to be different. What makes Urban Village so different?"). The question that made me pause, though, was a simple one: What kind of transformation are you promising the people who come to your church?

I was a little taken aback because I had never been asked that question in that way before. I stood there for a few seconds in silence, trying to figure out the best way to answer it. I finally came up with a simple answer: Changed lives and a changed city. I was surrounded by other pastors so I felt compelled to use some theological jargon because I wasn't sure my simple answer was adequate enough. As I thought about it this morning, though, I believe it is.

What could be more powerful, more radical than a changed life? We firmly believe that the gospel of Jesus changes everything. And when peoples' lives are changed, they want to transform their neighborhoods and their city so that others can know this love and grace, too. That change may come slowly with some, quickly with others. But, if we're open to it, I believe that this change happens. That's God's promise to us.

Yet another thing they don't teach in seminary

Pastoral Care to the Inebriated 101

Now that's a seminary class that people would sign up for. But, alas, it's one of those experiences that you usually have to go through. Like last night. We had a gathering at a pub in the Lakeview neighborhood and had a great time and a great turnout. One of the folks from the church had won a Happy Hour and she "donated" it to the church so from 6:30 to 8:30, people could drink Budweiser products for free. United Methodists have historically frowned on alcohol consumption, but we thought this would be a fairly tame way to bring people together in a place that wouldn't be intimidating and that would be easy for people to invite friends to. For the most part, it was. There was one exception.

There's a man who's come to a few of our worship services after finding one of our postcards on the street. I'd seen him only once, but he says he's come more than that. I arrived around 6:45 and the man pretty quickly approached Trey (the other Urban Village pastor) and I to tell us that he likes our sermons and he liked the fact that we wrote him a note thanking him for visiting. It was clear that he'd already had too much to drink so I tried to engage him a little bit, but also kept an eye on him the rest of the night. He talked to a few of our folks and made some of them feel uncomfortable (and bless those who attempted to have a conversation with him). By 8:15, though, he was thoroughly drunk and was getting slightly belligerent. He was yelling at people to get out of the way and I thought he wanted to leave so I asked him, "Do you want to leave?" I think he thought I was saying, "Let's take this outside and fight" and so he asked me if I wanted to leave. I tried to remain calm in the midst of the situation but he grabbed my shirt at one point and I was wondering how this was going to end up. I wasn't too nervous because I probably could have simply gave him a little nudge and he would have fallen down (not that I would have done that). Anyway, the bartender called the police and the man soon left.

What to do in that situation? I haven't had a lot of experience in dealing with the homeless, but I've volunteered at enough soup kitchens and shelters to know that there's usually a no tolerance policy when it comes to being drunk. I think we handled it the best way we could--tried to be hospitable while also paying close attention to make sure he wasn't abusive. I met with a woman this morning who's had fairly extensive experience in being with the homeless and I asked for her wisdom and one of the first things she said was, you have to have a lot of love and a lot of forgiveness. Not that you tolerate abuse, but recognize that mental illness can sometimes play a role in a person's behavior or misbehavior.

I hope he comes back to church. I hope he comes sober. I hope we have the wisdom to know how to love him while respecting the whole community's boundaries. I need to take that class.

Fasting and the arts

We had an interesting discussion during our staff meeting yesterday about engaging in core spiritual practices together. One of our future interns noted that she was familiar with a church plant in New York that was pretty dedicated to doing certain things together like reading Scripture and fasting. Trey, Matt (one of our worship leaders) and I talked about different options and the notion of fasting kept coming up. Though we've all fasted at one point or another in the past, it's not been something that we've done regularly.

One idea I had was to combine fasting with something else I've been wanting to do more of--engage the arts. I keep telling people that one of the advantages of living in the city is the unbelievable access we have to a wide variety of the arts and yet most of my experience with the arts has been doing crafts with my kids or watching Netflix. None of this is bad, but I think I can stretch myself a bit. Maybe I can skip lunch one day a week and experience God through a trip to an art gallery or a free concert or a street performer. It's not a huge sacrifice, but it's a start. Kind of gives new meaning to starving artist.

Day off

I've tried really hard to not use my iPhone on my day off/Sabbath and I did pretty well today--almost made it but then I had to give my son a bath and I was standing there, watching him play in the tub, feeling a bit bored...and I caved to check my email. Sigh. I know the proper father thing to do would have been to wonder at his play and talk with him etc. etc. No Father of the Year Award today.

I do get some Man of the House props today, however, for installing a kitchen faucet. Me installing something is a rarity so excuse me while I pat myself on the back. It only drips a little bit and I'm 99 percent sure that's the manufacturer's fault and not mine. I called to ask about this and the woman said they'd have to ship a part for me and said it would take 28 days and then asked, "Will that be a problem?" I laughed. I'll put up with the slight drip because there's no way I'm taking that faucet back out to return it.

Litmus tests

Have there always been litmus tests in churches? I'd be curious what different ones have been in days gone by.

One of the main ones we get (and I suppose many other churches get) is about homosexuality. It happened again today after church. A nice young couple came up to me after the worship, said they were new, said they were looking for a church, and the woman said she just had one question (wait for it): What is our stance on homosexuality?

This question used to frustrate me because, on the one hand, I find it's so difficult to give a satisfactory, pithy answer. I've been asked about it so much with our new church, though, I'm answering it in about 30 seconds and it boils down to our belief that homosexuality is not a sin. I don't always know if this is the answer the questioner wants and the woman this morning gave no clue as to whether she agreed or disagreed with me. Interestingly, she had another question: Do we believe in the Holy Spirit and do we believe that the Holy Spirit can still do miracles? I don't know what she meant by "miracles," but I didn't ask. I simply gave an emphatic yes and also encouraged her to meet with me further so we can talk a little more in depth about these issues.

Will she and her boyfriend/husband be back? One thing I've learned with this new church is to never assume anything. I've had people come up to me and say their lives have been changed thanks to Urban Village and then never return and I've had the opposite happen, too. People who seem like they wouldn't like it and they're here every Sunday.

I do know this. It's never boring. Thanks be to God.

One of those days

I haven't had "one of those days" in quite some time, but today...

It started out with disappointment as I opened the Chicago Tribune. The Trib is supposed to be doing an article on Urban Village Church and we thought today was the day that it would run, but nada. Who knows if/when it will be printed? Then I went to my daughter's school where I was teaching her class about prayer; specifically, breath prayer. She goes to a Catholic school but nearly half the students are non-Catholic so when they break off into religion classes, they're grouped into Catholic (called the Moonbeams) and non-Catholic (the Shooting Stars). I offered to come in and do a little teaching with the Shooting Stars so I've been with them three times this week. It went really well (thanks to the "Way of the Child" curriculum), but when I walked out of the building, I quickly saw that my car had been towed.

I've been so proud that I haven't gotten a ticket since moving to Chicago but this was unbelievable. I paid for parking, but had failed to see that there was street cleaning on this particular side of the street on Friday mornings and, of course, it was a tow zone. As I noted on my Facebook page today, I had been teaching about breath prayers to the class, but said something under my breath when the car was missing. And it wasn't a prayer. I finally figured out that the car was at 400 Lower East Wacker Drive, which is in the bowels of the city. $7 cab ride there. $160 to get it out of the tow lot. $50 ticket on top of all that. Lower Wacker Drive (above) is just one depressing place. I'll never figure out how to get around down there and I hope to never be back. They were appropriately surly to me which I actually didn't mind. I didn't want them to be cheery or tell me have a nice day.

Things have gotten better as the day's gone on, though. A hamburger for lunch helped as did reading "Deliberate Simplicity" by Dave Browning. And my sermon is starting to come together which didn't seem possible a couple days ago.

Now to get ready for our daughter's birthday party tomorrow. Our house is being transformed into Hogwarts.

Is presentation everything?

My wife and I were in Seattle last weekend for a family wedding. When people asked us about the ceremony, we both gave similar answers. That wasn't the case if we were asked about the bride's dress. My answer: "Um, it was kind of an ivory-white color." My wife's answer: I must confess I don't even remember because it went on for a few sentences and included the word "pleats" and may have included the phrase "off-the-shoulder." So, I wondered, where was my attention? Perhaps not surprisingly, it was on the officiant. I was silently critiquing his style, the vows, what he was wearing, etc. Not one of my better moments.

How you present yourself at a wedding can cause some consternation, but it's not just weddings that may bring on this anxiety. Whether it's work or a social event or even going for a workout, we pay attention to the clothes we wear and how we present ourselves. If we're honest with ourselves, we may even admit that we also are watching others and judging their "presentations."

One of our church's CTA ads says that Urban Village Church loves tattoos and suits. But no matter what you wear or what you have inked on your body, a deeper issue, I think, is whether we're following Colossians 3:12. The author of this text encourages us to clothe ourselves not with the latest fashion or tattoo, but with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, and, above all else, love.

I'll explore our spiritual wardrobes this Sunday and reflect on the kinds of impressions we're making in our daily lives.

What can I do?

Oh, Genxrev, how I have neglected you...but, Twitter only asks a 140 characters from me!

Isn't it interesting that four words uttered in different contexts can generate such different emotions in me?

Things are going well at Urban Village. For those who are curious, here are the "stats":

March 28 (first Sunday morning worship): 145 people
April 4 (Easter): 155
April 11: 120
April 18: 125
April 25: 130

We expected a bit of a drop off after Easter, but it's not as dramatic as it could have been and, as you can see, we're trending up! One of the great things is the number of people who want to do more than just come on Sunday morning. They want to get involved. What can I do? they ask and we celebrate the question.

Sunday afternoons, though, I'm usually pretty wiped out and just want to lay around, maybe nap, maybe work on a crossword puzzle, but around 2 p.m. or so my 5-year-old will come up to me and sweetly say, "What can I do?" Translation: I'm bored. Entertain me.

Groan.

It's part of parenthood, I realize, but there are times when I'm more energized to do stuff with him than others.

Sermon podcast

It's been quite a while since I put up a podcast, but here's a link so you can listen to my sermon from last Sunday:

https://www.yousendit.com/download/bFFQaUNLUENxRTFjR0E9PQ

Also, a great quote for the day:

"We cannot do without a paradigm to help us live. As a believer, I keep bumping into Jesus. I wander away, and there he is, perhaps in the eyes of someone on the street. There is no escape for me. Nor do I want there to be." Alan W. Jones

Everyone counts

You may have read the story in recent weeks about the teen-age girl in Mississippi who wanted to challenge school policy and bring her girlfriend to her high-school prom. Rather than allow this, however, the county school board canceled the prom altogether. This set off a flurry of debate, outrage, and a lawsuit. It also got me thinking about this sermon series that we're beginning this Sunday.

The series is called "Everyone Counts." The U.S. Census wants us all to be counted, but different segments of our society find it hard to believe that everyone should count. We're saying that not only does everyone count (and is loved) in God's eyes, but God also calls you and I to think about our own biases and reflect on whether we truly believe the same thing.

Do you think Democrats and Republicans should count? People who wear suits and tattoos? Doubters and believers? Gay people and straight people? Cub fans and Sox fans? Take it a step further. Are we able begin the process of loving all of them, as well?

Can you love the teen who wants to take her girlfriend to the prom and those who don't want to allow that? That's a tall order for a lot of us. But if we're interested in following the way of Jesus, eventually we come across his words that challenge us to love those who harm us and infuriate us. That's not easy and it may take a long time, but, hopefully, in our better moments, we remember that Jesus loves us when we can be less than lovable.

Join us beginning this Sunday as we explore the difficulty and joy of loving others who check different boxes.

New Urban Village video

It's good to have talented and gifted and generous in-laws. My sister-in-law Stefanie Curry designed our ads for the trains and buses and my brother-in-law Paul Traynor and his colleague put this video together for us for practically nothing. Pretty cool!


It was weird not having to put together a Maundy Thursday or Good Friday service, but it was also kind of nice. Getting ready for tomorrow, though. Really curious to see who will show up.

Oh, our poor kids. It's been gray and rainy here today and that combined with constant utterances of "What can I do?" have made my wife and I not very patient. I'm thankful for neighbors with kids who are in the same boat!

Thoughts from our launch Sunday

Sorry it's taken me so long to post about our launch Sunday! Here's an email I sent to our prayer team yesterday that summarizes things. The first part of the email was written by my colleague Trey:

"Well, friends, Urban Village Church is out of the starting gates! Our first weekly service went really wonderfully. We could not have asked for a better beginning! There was a great, warm spirit in the place; amazing music; lots of laughter throughout the service; and, best of all, about 150 diverse people, many who were totally new to us. Thanks to God and to everybody who showed up and helped out!

"A colleague of mine who lives in another state but has friends in Chicago emailed me on Sunday afternoon. He had sent a 'spy' to the service to check us out and he wanted to share his friend's experience of Urban Village:

'It was awesome -- hilarious, witty, welcoming, open and inspiring. Out of an overwhelming sense of gratitude, I cried. Twice. Loved it.'"

As I noted last week, we really had no idea what to expect, but everything went about as smoothly as we could have hoped. Afterward, we were pretty tired and, to be honest, I was a bit deflated for 24 hours or so afterward (kind of like that post-Christmas feeling that kids get), but the great news is that we get to do it again this Sunday as we proclaim the good news of the resurrection. People really want to hear this news! Here's another email we received this week:

"I sincerely enjoyed your authentic services on Sunday. I appreciated your candor, insight and the welcoming message. It was refreshing to find a place that declares to its congregation that it's OK to doubt. That it's critical to your development as a Christian to question things, to push, to question, to be uncomfortable with God. That God is so large that we haven't even begun to scratch the surface of his messages for our lives. I have been to too many churches here where the congregation is disinterested and just going through the motions. I have been looking for a church home that is interested in getting into the meat of the scriptures, finding life applications to His Word, and finding ways to serve the neighborhood."

I think and hope we're striking a chord out there--will be really interesting to see what kind of response we get this week.

Delivery Day

"Do you want to deliver her?"

My wife had been in labor with our first child for 8 1/2 hours or so. There were three of us in the hospital room. Me. The nurse-midwife. My wife. (And I suppose my soon-to-be child, too). Our nurse-midwife had been laid back throughout this whole process which I guess is what you want from your medical practitioner. I kept thinking she should be doing something...oh, I don't know...medical when my wife had contractions, but she kept hanging back, letting nature do its thing. It was getting to be clear, however, that our daughter was about to be born. So, the nurse-midwife turned to me and says, "Do you want to deliver her?"

Let me make clear that I was not an OB/GYN doctor or nurse before I went into the ministry. My only experience was going through the pre-birth classes with my wife. But the offer to help with the delivery was there and so, I figured, what the heck?

"Should I do anything, like wear gloves?" I said.

"No, just wash your hands," the nurse-midwife said.

And so I did. She told me where to put my hands and when the time came, I guided my daughter into the world (realizing, of course, that my wife did all the heavy lifting).
Any person will tell you that being present at a birth is something you'll never forget and when you have the opportunity to actually be part of the delivery, it's life-altering.

Forgive me if I'm overdoing the analogy, but all of us will be present at a birth this Sunday and all of us will be part of the delivery. This idea of a new church was conceived more than two years ago and Trey and I are still pinching ourselves that Sunday morning worship is starting in just a few days. So many hours of work, prayers said, and coffees slurped all come together when we start joining our voices in song at 10:15 a.m.

You have been a part of this process and we hope you'll be there when this new creation begins on Sunday. John 1 tells us that all things came into being through God. I believe that this community (with all the marvelous and messy people who make it up) came into being through God. Join us on Sunday to celebrate this birth day.

At the Spertus and random stuff

We had our big launch party last night in our new digs and had a great time. It was yet another reminder that the work of getting the word (and Word) out is never done. I sometimes get a little carried away when I hear or see evidence that there's going to be a huge turnout. A handful of people tell me they'll be there and I immediately project that into large numbers. We had a nice crowd--at least 50, maybe 75--and we're hearing lots of people say they'll be there when we launch on March 28, but none of us can sit back and expect people to find us if we aren't there hitting the pavement.

If you haven't become a fan of Urban Village Church on Facebook, please do so--you can see our new ads which are up at various L stops throughout the city. Actually you can go on our web site, too, and see them, too.

The 8th annual Coon NCAA Bracket Tournament is in full force and we have a record number of 17 people playing. We're battling for a traveling bobblehead trophy (now known affectionately as Bob) that I think may be showing its age. My 5-year-old son is in second place after the first day!

Big questions discussed over waffles

My wife had to go to the grocery store near dinner time last night so I offered to make waffles for the kids. Waffles are great for a Sunday night meal (at least that's what I tell myself) and my daughter and son heartily agree. As we sat there spreading the butter and pouring the syrup, my 5-year-old son made the comment apropos of nothing that he missed our old house.

We moved from the suburbs to downtown Chicago last summer and people often ask how the kids have made the transition. They seem to be happy most of the time and are making new friends so I always assume that everything is going great, forgetting that they still have memories and that there still may be a sense of loss. I was further taken aback when my daughter (who'll be nine in May) immediately agreed with him. It's been a while since they've said anything about missing our previous home so I followed up with the typical questions. Why do you miss it? What specifically do you miss? It was hard for them to articulate at first, but my daughter eventually gave me three specific answers.

She misses having a back yard.

She misses having her own swing set.

There's more litter where we live now.

I couldn't really disagree with her points and I spent the rest of the evening pondering all this and feeling a little guilty about the move. We moved because I'm helping start a new church in the city and, personally and professionally, I really haven't regretted it at all. But, of course, when you're married with two kids and an aging dog, it's not all about me.

She's right about the litter. I've noticed it, too, as the snow begins to melt. This may be the ugliest time of the year because the remaining snow drifts are now charcoal gray and the warmer weather reveals small bits of garbage and dog waste. It's not overwhelming, but it is noticeable. I also understand her missing the swing set that we had. There is a sense of convenience and ownership about having your own swing set rather than having to the park. We spent more time talking about not having a back yard because the last few days she's been having a great time playing soccer with some other kids her age in the courtyard/parking lot in the back of our town house. She agreed with my observation, but noted that when you play on asphalt, it hurts when you fall down as opposed to playing on grass.

I can't deny that some sacrifices have been made in living where we do and I must confess that I sometimes jump to quickly to the advantages, like the diversity and living so close to so many world-class museums. I don't spend as much time thinking about what we left behind. But, like most parents, I pray that my kids might learn some lessons in all this.

Rather than moving to escape the litter, another option would be to pick up a bag and pick some of the litter up. My wife did that a few months ago. A car window was broken outside our home and the glass stayed on the ground for days. I kept expecting the Broken Car Window Clean-up Fairy to come by and take care of it but s/he didn't show up. So my wife put on some gardening gloves and did it herself.

Rather than moving so that we can have our own swing set, I hope my kids learn about sharing public resources while they play at the park and rub elbows with children who come from a wide variety of backgrounds.

And rather than moving so we can have a backyard with grass, maybe they'll learn that falling down sometimes hurts and so you have to make the decision whether to get back up again and keep kicking the ball.

As I pray that my kids learn these lessons, however, I also wonder about the last time that I picked up a bag or shared my resources or got back up off the ground without grumbling or blaming someone or Someone else. We're learning lessons together.

After we finished our waffles, the kids went out on the little deck outside our kitchen to play with some Silly String that one of them got at a birthday party. In a matter of minutes, they went from talking about what they missed to rejoicing at what was before them. The string squirted out onto the parking lot and landed on the asphalt, the same asphalt that will cushion their fall when they get the soccer ball out tomorrow.

Who do you love?

Hopefully by this time next week, at least a few people will be hearing or reading about Urban Village Church for the first time. We're investing in an ad campaign on the CTA so five L stops (Roosevelt, Addison, Merchandise Mart, Damen, and Southport), Red Line cars, and buses throughout the city will have Urban Village posters and cards posted.

There are five different ads. The main text will be the same on all five: "Bored or burned by religion in the past? We're doing church differently. Urban Village Church begins worship on March 28/10:15 a.m./Spertus Institute/610 S. Michigan." The headlines for each ad will be different, however:

We love gay people/We love straight people
We love Democrats/We love Republicans
We love tattoos/We love suits
We love doubters/We love believers
We love Sox fans/We love Cub fans

We're pleased with the way the ads turned out and hope that, even if people don't come to our church, they'll at least think for a moment about what it means to love the way Jesus loved. "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you..."

That's Jesus talking. Matthew 5:43-44. That passage rarely fails to make me pause and think about who I claim to love. Because of this ad campaign I've created my own list, including those people I find hard to love. People who irritate me, who are insensitive, rude, and annoying. If I really want to follow in the way of Jesus, it means I love rude people and I love insensitive people. It means I pray for them. It also means that I'm humble enough to know that I have my days of being irritating, insensitive, rude, and annoying. And I'm thankful that others still love me anyway.

Praying for change

I've been going to St. Procopius Benedictine Abbey for spiritual retreats off and on now since the mid-1990s. At first, I was pretty regimented about the whole process. I'd follow a strict guideline of when to pray, when to read, and when to attend prayer and worship with the monks. I don't regret that way of going about it because I think it helped me get accustomed to actually going on a spiritual retreat. With experience, though, I've cut myself much more slack. If I feel like reading, I read. If I feel like praying, I pray. If I feel like napping, I nap. If I feel like going for a walk, I head outside. I still attend all the communal opportunities for prayer and worship (there are four a day), but I now go into each retreat not really sure what will come out of it. Usually a verse or theme emerges.

One of the things I like about St. Procopius is that nothing much changes. The same monks are here, the same schedule is pretty much kept, and I stay in the same room. It's been more than a year since I last came out here, though, and change is happening. Seven monks died in 2009, including two I knew somewhat well. Father Thomas, the guest master (think of him as the concierge of St. Procopius), who always seemed ageless to me, is also slowing down a bit.

It struck me this morning that "change" would emerge as the theme of this retreat. Not just my observation of change taking place here at the abbey, but the change that needs to always take place within me. This isn't a novel revelation, but I realize that I've been spending way too much time lately wanting other people to change to adjust to my wants and needs and way too little time praying for a changed heart within me.

That can be a daunting prayer: I'm ready for my heart-my life-to change, O God. Eugene Peterson notes, "Be slow to pray. Praying puts us at risk of getting involved with God's conditions...Praying most often does get us what we want but what God wants, something quite at variance with what we conceive to be in our best interests. And when we realize what is going on, it is often too late to go back."

It's a risky prayer, to be sure. But I kind of like where this prayer is leading me during this Lenten season.

Melting snow reveals blechy stuff

It was a warmer day yesterday and the sun was out which makes life much happier for lots of people, but I found myself feeling a little bleah yesterday afternoon. I think one reason is that with warmer temperatures comes melting snow and that means trash and dog excrement are revealed. I was walking around a nearby neighborhood yesterday and it wasn't a pretty sight. That's the thing about living in the city. I find myself either really, really liking it (which is about 80 percent of the time) or really, really not (that would be about 20 percent of the time). Not sure why the bleah feeling came about because it's been a very good week for the church. About ready to announce the hiring of our new worship leader and worship venue.

I'm hoping I can keep up with this Lenten practice of reading through the Marks of a Christian from Romans 12. Today's mark: Hate what is evil. If that doesn't spur all kinds of reflection, I don't know what will. Hate? Evil?

Marked

We went to my daughter's school on Tuesday night for a Fat Tuesday celebration and, of course, when you gather lots and lots of kids in a gymnasium with pizza, sweets, and a D.J., it's a jolt to your senses (at least to my 42-year-old senses). One of the highlights for our kids--as it often is at an event like this--was getting their faces painted. I was grumbling a bit because the line was long and the artists seemed to be taking their sweet time about it, but I must say that these were some pretty cool designs. Caroline had a kind-of Mardi Gras design and Ethan had a dragon on his face. There was no way they wanted to wash these marks off when we got home so they slept on towels over their pillows that night. Ethan was a particularly careful sleeper, I think, and may have slept on his back the whole night.

Yesterday hundreds of people were walking around downtown with a different design on their faces, or, specifically, their foreheads. Ash Wednesday. Many people heard the sobering yet important words, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." I was marked with my ash cross over the noon hour and received a few double takes, including a woman on the L who asked about it.

The kids on Tuesday night and the many yesterday were all marked for different reasons and the passage I was reading this morning really jumped out at me as a great text to relate to these marks. Romans 12:9-21 is often entitled "Marks of the True Christian" and it's a powerful list of entreaties written by a man named Paul. Depending on how you break them up, there are 25 or so ways to measure whether we have these marks. Let love be genuine. Do not lag in zeal. Be patient in suffering. Persevere in prayer. I think I may use this as a key text during these next 40-plus days of Lent as I wonder about the marks in/on my heart and whether people can see them as easily as a dragon or an ash cross.

A reminder of God's love

We all have our routines before we go to bed and I'm glad to say that reading Harry Potter aloud to my daughter has become one for us (I don't know whether she appreciates my doing a variety of voices for all the characters, but I have a lot of fun with it).

In addition to J.K. Rowling and prayers and brushing teeth, I always tell her I love her before I head out of her room. Every once in a while, though, I want to make sure she really hears me so I kneel down at her level and I her ask her if she really knows how proud her mom and I are of her and how deeply we love her. A smile usually comes across her face and she nods her head. I think she appreciates that extra effort.

The news that God loves us may not be novel. For some, this may be a radical thing, but others spent many a Sunday School class singing "Jesus loves me, this I know" over and over and over. Every once in a while, though, I think God stops and tries to convey this in a different way so that we really know the depth of that love. I read something by the spiritual writer Henri Nouwen this week that was a good reminder for me. Nouwen writes how he imagines what God might be saying to him:

"I have called you by name, from the very beginning. You are mine and I am yours. You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests. I have molded you in the depths of the earth and knitted you together in your mother's womb. I have carved you in the palms of my hands and hidden you in the shadow of my embrace. I look at you with infinite tenderness and care for you with a care more intimate than that of a mother and her child. I have counted every hair on your head and guided you at every step. Wherever you go, I go with you, and wherever you rest, I keep watch. I will give you food that will satisfy all your hunger and drink that will quench all your thirst. I will not hide my face from you. You know me as your own as I know you as my own. You belong to me. I am your father, your mother, your brother, your sister, your lover and your spouse...yes, even your child...wherever you are I will be. Nothing will ever separate us. We are one."

I believe God says this to all of us. All. Of. Us. May we never forget it.

At the extremes

Ash Wednesday isn't for a couple more weeks so I'm jumping the gun a bit on this post, but this thought came to me a couple days ago and I wanted to record it.

I've been thinking a little bit about (take your pick) Satan/the devil/evil force/the enemy lately. I don't know if I've ever clearly come to some decision about what exactly I believe about God's opposite, but I do believe there is opposite force/power in our world. However you name it, I've been struck lately that this force will often take me to the extremes. For example, I've been feeling a little anxious lately about our new church's finances and whether enough money will be forthcoming in gifts and pledges. Nothing in particular has happened that should plant this doubt in my mind--just stuff I ruminate on when I wake up at 3 a.m. But the anxiety gets planted and then takes me to places I shouldn't really go, e.g. it's a bad economy so we'll never have enough money and I should never have left my previous church and oh, woe, is me...

You see? Taken to an extreme that isn't good for anybody.

On the other hand, it's also not good to be at the other end of that extreme, namely, oh, don't worry about it at all. The money will come so there's no need to plan or ask for money or start teaching about stewardship. That also won't get us anywhere.

This same kind of thinking has applied when I think about my own gifts and graces. I've been at one extreme where I think that I have no talents at all and I should just probably quit the ministry and I've been at the other end where I think that, quite possibly, I may be the best preacher in the country. Not good to be at either end.

What does this have to do with Ash Wednesday? A common text that people reflect on early in Lent is the story of Jesus' temptation by Satan (Luke 4:1-13). Satan tempts Jesus to do some pretty extreme stuff. Turn a stone into bread. Jump off the pinnacle of the Temple. Jesus doesn't fall for this trap, though, and begins his ministry.

Balance has always been important to me and I think that's true when thinking about a force that pushes me to extremes. I'd rather be centered in the unfailing love of God.

Saying yes again and again

The first time I went into their home, I immediately noticed the pictures on the wall next to the staircase. I had been invited over to have some coffee with some new acquaintances and there on the wall leading upstairs were a series of pictures. They were all of the couple, but you could tell that in each picture they were each changing ever so slightly. I asked them about it and they told me that every year on their anniversary, they renew their wedding vows and they take a picture to commemorate it. I kind of liked that sense not just of commitment, but also of recommitment.

It's a big decision to commit to someone or something, but it's an even bigger decision to make that conscious commitment day after day after day, whether you give yourself to another person or a job or a personal goal. Or God.

There are lots of stories in the Bible where God asks for a commitment from a person or a group of people and there are just as many stories in the Bible of these same people who either flee from this commitment or who simply say, no thanks. It's not always an easy thing to say yes to God because usually that means our lives change. I believe they change for the better, but, still, they do change.

I also believe that God asks all of us for some kind of commitment. Sometimes we name that a "call," either to a vocation (everything from a teacher to a small-business owner) or an action (maybe raising money for Haiti or working to reform our country's immigration policies). But I do believe that the request is made and it's always a request that's based in God's deep and abiding love for each of us.

It can be a scary thing to say yes to God's call. But once we do, it helps to say yes each day, even on the days when our heart's not in it. God's heart can make up for the rest.

On the bus

I had an interesting discussion yesterday with a young adult who's a social worker/community organizer. Two nuggets from that conversation: First, she attends a small church in Logan Square (or it may be just north of there) and they engage in communal fasting during Lent. A couple years ago, for example, they made a covenant to give up plastic. Three years ago, they made a covenant to not buy non-essential items. I was really impressed with this. We focus a lot on individual fasting during Lent, but I haven't heard or read much about communal spiritual practices. Second, she observed that friends of hers who used to attend non-denominational churches have been interested in converting to Catholicism. One of her friends noted that she likes the idea of going to church or engaging in something and knowing that there are countless others around the globe hearing and doing the same thing. I believe there's still a desire for community in this age of hyper-individualism.

Also, I spent a lot of time on buses yesterday. The Chicago Transit Authority is making some route cuts in a few weeks and I wonder just what impact this is going to have on some of the neighborhoods I was riding through. One thing I still can't understand is why all senior citizens (regardless of income) get free rides on buses and trains. I know why it happened--our infamous former governor thought it would secure support from this voting bloc, but is it that big of a sacred cow now that it can't be reviewed?

Had a really good day yesterday--a strong sense of the Spirit of Christ within me.

The virtue of curiosity

One of the best things about this new gig as a church planter is the conversations I have with a wide variety of people. The end of last week was a dramatic example of this, but it's a case in point.

I met with a man last Friday who's the executive director of a homeless organization in the Pilsen neighborhood, a predominantly Mexican area just south and west of the Loop. He served 12 years in prison for accessory to murder and the stories he told me were fascinating. He talked openly about his time in prison, what he learned and how it actually helped him. He also talked frankly about homelessness and Pilsen. In fact, as we were talking about gangs, he went over to his white board and started drawing a map of the neighborhood, highlighting which blocks "belonged" to which gangs. I'm used to a white board being used for, you know, church retreats and stuff like that. Never this and a few scales fell from my eyes about the reality of the city.

The very next day I had a conversation with a woman who's a managing editor of Playboy. We were both volunteering at the same site for the Chicago Cares Day of Service and, since we both live in the same neighborhood, she gave me a ride home from the site. I was really interested in her insights on media in today's society and also I was interested in learning what she knows about straight men. Our church seems to be reaching women and gay men pretty well, but we haven't connected with many straight men. I don't think we're that unusual because many churches also wonder how they can reach men. It was an engaging conversation and it reminded me of one of my tenets of ministry: More often than not, it is more helpful to ask questions than to make statements. Certainly we are called to proclaim certain things, but conversation flows a lot more freely when I begin with curiosity. Who is this person? What makes her tick? Why does he do he does? When conversations begin this way, not only do I learn a lot, but the other person is also usually curious about me and this new church. Only God knows where the conversation will end up, but I feel like I leave a lot more room for the Spirit to operate than if I only make declarations.

Curiosity is an underrated virtue.

Lessons of a snow tunnel

My kids and I built a great snow tunnel on Saturday. I wasn't sure that would be possible in the city, but the snow plows left a big pile of snow in our back parking lot that was perfect for digging and shaping. I must confess when they first asked me to come out with them I was a little hesitant because, well, it was really cold outside and really warm inside. I eventually went out and watched them attempt to build this fort until I was moved to join in the construction.

We slowly built a tunnel. I'd dig and shovel a while and then my 5-year-old would see if he could fit. If he couldn't, more digging and shoveling. Finally we got to the point where there was enough room for him to come through and it was hilarious to see. He came through head first and out popped his face with a look of pure joy on it.

This tunnel-building process came into my mind yesterday. I was thinking about all the work we've done for this new church and all the work that has yet be tackled and I got into that mode of worrying that I wasn't doing enough, I wasn't productive enough. That's not a good place to be. But, thanks be to God, the snow tunnel came to mind and became a great metaphor for me. No matter what I do during my day--whether it's official "church" stuff or whether it's riding a bus or spending time with my kids--I think I'm called to create a space (like, for example, a snow tunnel) for the joy of God to come through. The good news is that God doesn't need much space--a kind word, a listening ear, even eye contact can provide an opening for God to do some amazing things.

Podcast up

For those interested in listening to me, a podcast is up at my previous site. If you're interested, you can also subscribe to my podcasts (which, at this point, are sent out sporadically) by going to iTunes Store and typing in "genxrev" in the search engine. My page should come up and you can subscribe to it there.

It's the sermon I preached last Sunday night for our third service as Urban Village Church. It was a cold night and we didn't get quite the turn-out we had hoped for, but it was great to gather. We had the same number of people as we did for our first service, around 75 or so. I'll reflect more on this tomorrow.

My sermon this Sunday

I'm preaching this Sunday so I'm using the blog today to help organize my thoughts. It's a lot longer than my usual posts, so my apologies for that.

Santa was good to my kids this year. We got a Wii. I've never been a huge video game player so I wasn't terribly familiar with the Wii other than the few times I played at my mom's home in Iowa. I knew about the basic stuff--bowling, baseball, boxing--that comes with it and I knew there were a lot of other games out there, but it's a whole new world for me. The thing that surprised me, though, was the "game" that attracted my kids' attention the most. I don't even know if you can call it a game. There's a component of Wii called Mii where you can create new people to inhabit your own virtual community in addition to creating players for the various games you play. Ethan (our 5-year-old), especially, is fascinated by this. You can create people in literally all shapes, sizes, and colors and there are countless variations you can come up with including different eye, nose, and mouth shapes. As we head into a new year, I'm wondering how many people there are who would like to start their lives over and do it simply and easily--using a remote control.

I don't know about you, but I often feel like I'm told that I need to take control of my life if I want to create a whole new me. No one else is going to lose weight, quit smoking, read more, and find love for you. It's all up to you. There's some truth in that. But I think that can also put a lot of unnecessary pressure on us. I don't believe it starts with you or me. I don't believe that we are totally in control, as much as we may try. I believe it starts with God. Let me say that again. If we want renewal, it starts with God.

One of the great stories of renewal comes in the gospel of Luke--the story of Zacchaeus. While it's great that many of us know this story because of the songs we sang about Z when we were children (Zacchaeus was a wee little man...), I also wonder if we have relegated this story to the Sunday School and it's lost its power. We don't know a whole lot about Z. We know he was a chief tax collector which, in Jesus' day, meant that he was probably engaged in what we would call white-collar crime. The Romans needed to collect taxes and they hired "consultants" to collect these taxes. People like Z would pay a lump sum to the Roman authorities up front and then hire other people to go collect the taxes from the common people. As you can imagine, chief tax collectors charged extra in order to line their own pockets. So, Z was a chief tax collector and he was rich. And, as we know from the song, he was short. In this story in Luke 19:1-10, Z is interested in Jesus' entry into Jericho. The text doesn't tell us why. This is what I'm curious about. Why does Zacchaeus want see Jesus? Is he simply curious because he's heard about him? Does he feel like maybe he needs to make a change in his life? Z leaves himself open to ridicule by running and climbing a tree so I have to believe that there's something more than curiosity at play here. No matter what the motive, though, Jesus affirms Z (which, as often happens, leaves Jesus open to scorn because he once again breaks cultural norms and barriers) by inviting himself to Z's house. Later in the story, Z changes. Big time. He gives half of his possessions to the poor and, in a sense, turns over a new leaf. Could Z have done this without Jesus? Could he have said, I'm going to take control of my life and become a new Zacchaeus all by myself? I doubt it.

You may have heard of a new book that just came out that's called "Living Oprah" where a Chicago woman (Robyn Okrant) vowed to live her life in 2008 by following the advice offered by Oprah Winfrey. The book is taken from a blog and I took some time this week to read how her life changed because of this decision. I mainly just read what Oprah advised in January 2008 plus a few other things, too. Some of Oprah's advice:

No more paper or plastic bags at the grocery store. We will bring our cloth bags with us on every trip.

Changing light bulbs to energy efficient bulbs.

Women need to get their clothing altered to fit them. Especially their jeans.

Have beautiful surroundings.

Live your own truth.

Switch from overhead lighting to lamps; put stuff up on my walls that might become art when I hang it, but isn't necessarily thought of as art; add sea life to a room add a fabulous chair to each room; frame important notes; add books about subjects you love to your space; make your rooms personal.

On Monday, Oprah says diet, so we diet. On Tuesday, Oprah says eat a waffle cone full of ice cream, so we eat a waffle cone full of ice cream.

See "Juno" asap.

Read the Dr. Christiane Northrup book, Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom.

Go to the movie "27 Dresses" and then go have margaritas.

Run out and get "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle then go to Oprah.com to register for for the 10-week, world-wide class that Eckhart and I will be teaching on A New Earth.

Each day we're meant to kiss our partner for 10 seconds. Pecking doesn't count. Actual 10 second quality kissing.

Look at our genitals.

Quite an array of advice. The book/blog seems to have gotten a lot of publicity and one thing I hope comes out of this is a discussion about who guides our lives and whose advice do we follow. Is it our culture? Is it Oprah? Is it ourselves? Or is it God?

It's difficult to get a handle on just how much influence other cultural messages have on us. We may think we're taking control of our own lives, but there are many voices that vie to be our voice. And they're often too successful. True renewal comes when we do our best to listen to one Voice, the voice that invites himself over to our home and our heart. God's voice. My mantra so far in 2010 has been to ask, "What is your desire, O God, in this situation?" I won't always follow it as I should, but I'm trying to make sure it's the main advice I'm following.

I resolve...

I'm all about resolutions. And not just resolutions for a new year. Each day, week, month, I try to take advantage of newness to improve some aspect of my life. As I type this, I realize it may read like I'm sort of insufferable self-improvement fanatic, but that's not the case. At least I don't think it is. I think it's more of my recognition that I am and always will be a work in progress and want to do all I can to be open to, well, progressing.

I try to keep my resolutions short and practical. Not sure if I make them realistic or not, but I give it a shot.

In 2010, I want to:

**Be intentional about having devotional time every day (I've slacked on this in recent months)

**Eat more fruit

**Send birthday cards. Real, paper birthday cards.

That's it. There are other things I also try to make progress on, but, for now, these will do. I thought about resolving to have a smaller carbon footprint. Certainly I'll try to do that, but I need to think of something that makes it more practical.