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.