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.