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.