"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.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
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!
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!
Monday, March 15, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
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.
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.
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