Doubting Thomas

A few clips from the last week:

"Jesus has a very special love for you. As for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great that I look and do not see, listen and do not hear." - Mother Teresa (the last years of her life Mother Teresa struggled with serious doubts. She viewed herself as relating with the suffering of Christ. I bought this week the song Doubting Thomas by Nickel Creek. I think what hurts and what we desire is the same thing: to be cared for. I want that too. We ask over and over again--to make sure--can I trust You, Lord? There are times that we have found trust very easy. There has been a time when it was pleasurable. We call those springtime and we call our despair the winter. One is bright with life and one is bleak, sapping, dull. What will bring us back to vitality? And we stand forcibly, painfully, resiliently still beside Thomas, "I will not believe unless...." What will bring us to belief again? Our older ages do not always give us better answers than the child. I was eager hearted as a child. But what does it mean like to "become like one of these" children? I think it means that we are more willing to love and be loved. Simple. It does not mean that we laugh with absurd naivete at the question when they come, but I think that we must trust in one who is loving. I am convinced that we often do not feel loved, not because we are not being loved, but because we do not know how to receive love. I can feel such obligation to expend myself, while forgetting that all of this can be done--even to the point of losing my own life--without love. Love! Let there be no fear or haze. God is love. A friend once told me as I labored over a philosophy paper about the nature of love that the answer was simple: God is love. We have grown older now and find that harder to understand, harder to believe. But love has not grown old, it has not changed. "O Love that will not let me go, I rest my weary soul in Thee. I give Thee back the life I owe, that in Thine ocean depths its flow, may richer fuller be....")

"We have been trying to apply machine age methods to our relationship with God...Our thought habits are those of the scientist not of the worshipper. We are more likely to explain than to adore." - Tozer

"There never was a horse that couldn't be rode; there never was a man that couldn't be throwed." - Texas Bix Bender in Don't Squat With Yer Spurs On!

"Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." - Psalm 73

answer: let them in to your home

Coffee Oasis has been getting good press in the paper. A little clip from my meeting with the city and county yesterday (I was actually filling in for my father because he does not like schmoozing): http://www.kitsapsun.com/news/2009/nov/17/advocates-call-for-a-safe-park-for-the-homeless/ . And another interview on the phone today about a large overnight gathering we are planning for homeless awareness Friday-Saturday. We have been meeting and talking non-stop. But there are still things that make you stop. Most of the time people are sleepers and talkers, dazed and moving. There is no moment like the moment that you finally and truly see. Like the shepherds watching their flocks in the fields at night when the angel came to them. "Behold I say to you...." And the rest is history. Beautiful history. Beautiful truth. The meeting I was speaking at yesterday had the goal of solving homelessness. The two best ideas that they came up with were safe places to park cars and legal tent cities. The last time I heard a car and a tent did not fall under the home category. I will tell you my idea. Let them into your home. Jesus said, "let the children come." Who is a child and who is your neighbor? Tonight the county bugle did not call for the emergency shelter so those that came seeking refuge from the cold were brought to home. My roommates are generous men and happily agreed to let two men stay at our apartment. We had pizza and talked late. Not like a slumber party. The stories we heard were to sad to be boyish fantasy and too real to be campfire tales. They are now sleeping in my living room. Full and thankful (I think). Now I will ask you honestly, what means more to a man: treating him with dignity or saying that he has dignity and doing nothing about it? G.K. Chesterton tells the story in his book "Orthodoxy" about the man of our age that goes from one meeting where he has taken pains to describe the special rights of humanity straight to another meeting of science where he tries to show in detail how humans are not different than roaming wild animals. We live in a society which is confused and without foundation. Wishing to believe in something substantial--to stand--but falling for through the gaping hole of courageous statements without absolute morality to defend them and a prayer for a better future with a belief that the universe is nothing but a large, silent, and dark chasm. There is hope in Jesus. He is the final Word. He created. And He came to redeem a people who will believe and stand upon the truth that He alone is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

shelters, hobbits, and brides

"It been a hard couple months..." "Then I got kicked out of there...then I got kicked out of there...sometimes you don't feel wanted." "Is this the men's shelter? Boy finally a stroke of luck in an unlucky day!" This is the men's shelter...and women's shelter....and....

Tonight I am staffing the Severe Weather Shelter at the Coffee Oasis. Last night the wind was blowing the rain sideways so it hit standing objects like a target. You could hear it from my side of the apartment pounding the wall as if it was slowly working its way through the wood and insulation. So today the call went out and we are open. Out of the three shelters in Kitsap County we are the only one that has been able to raise the staff needed to be open. As I type there are three sleeping soundly on the floor the game room in the back-end of the Oasis. When they came in we welcomed them and served them hot chocolate and told them that we are glad they came. We are. They have been told a lot of thing--called a lot of things. They have felt unwanted and tonight they are wanted. The two that came early watched the last of the Lord of the Rings trilogy on VHS. After the four hobbits have returned to the shire Frodo finished his uncle Bilbo's story, "There and Back Again." In the movie he finishes the book with these words: "There is a deep that is hard to understand, a wound that time does not heal." They have been deepened by the whole experience and do not rush back into the merry, green life of the shire. These are wounded people. It changes the way you see the world to hand three rough, gray wool blankets for three souls to sleep on blue camping pads on a thin brown rug in the back room of a coffee shop. At the part of the movie when King Aragorn tells the four hobbits, "you bow to no one," it made tears come to the eyes of one of the men. "I like that. I really like that," he told me. I believe that time alone cannot heal wounds. It can surround it with hard and stiff tissue, but it cannot heal. Have you ever seen an old veteran with a stiff wound? It is a plague in later years. I believe Jesus can heal those wounds. He can make new. There is also a deep in me that I find hard to express to any living soul. He knows that to. I am known. It is good to be known. There is much to fear if I am known by anyone that does not love me and will not endure with me. I believe Jesus does love me and will endure with me to the end. I believe Jesus is offering the same to you and these three sleeping in the next room. But he wants a true bride. He wants a bride in love with him. What other kind of bride would a bridegroom desire? Am I a pure bride?

further up and further in

I did not prepare anything special for open mic at the Coffee Oasis tonight so I played my favorite Christmas song, "O Holy Night" ("Til' He appeared and the soul felt its worth!"), and read a portion of the last chapter of the last book of C.S. Lewis's series The Chronicles of Narnia. By now all the adventurers are gathered to their final home beyond the sea, the land of Aslan, where his rule is always understood and loved. It describes feelings such as exhaustion and fear impossible to experience or fear. It is a strange sensation to try to feel these limitation because they are no longer existent. The troop together--composed of Lady Polly, Lord Digory, Trinian, King Edmund, Queen Lucy, hounds, and several more--are racing and skipping and swimming further and further up the mountain and their cry is always the same, "further up and further in." It is want we want here. It should be no surprise when we find what we most deeply want is what we most deeply need also. We were meant to want more experience until we "know as we are known" (1 Corinthians 13). Until then we ache (Romans 8). Do not feel strange about your longing and do not try to fill it quickly or cheaply or easily. Set your eyes up and press in (Hebrews 12). "Further up and further in!"

"Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison...." - 2 Corinthians 4:16-17

discontinuing unbelief

"If I know something to be true, am I prepared to follow it even though it is contrary to what I want?" - Eric Liddell

"What peaceful hours I once enjoyed,
How set there memory still
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill." - William Cowper in Walking With God

Another day in Port Townsend. Not merely another day. Walked with Titus on my shoulders watching the infinite gallons of Puget Sound water swell, boom, spray, and repeat. Studied Romans. Predestination a little clearer reading through Romans without breaking. It is no less difficult for the philosophical challenge if allowed only to work within the modernist or postmodernist mind that places man on a chair in the middle. But if God is given his rightful place we understand things more quickly with ears perked, eyes bowed, on bended knee. Paul teaches predestination clearly, but continues to believe that nothing is considered lost to those that pray. Paul prays for people to "not continue in their unbelief" so they might "be grafted in" (Romans 11:23). And this concept works within the idea of God's election and choice. Dear soul, if you consider yourself lost and cut-off from fellowship, do not delay in that lonely place. I believe that those who seek Him will find Him no less satisfying. He will fulfill all His promises to you.

Listen to Ravi Zacharias speak on the issue of "Why Do I Not Feel My Faith?" (http://www.rzim.org/USA/Resources/Listen/JustThinking.aspx?archive=1&page=91). Appropriate companion to Romans.

Their Finest Hour

"Future generations may deem it noteworthy that the supreme question of whether we should fight on alone never found a place upon the War Cabinet agenda. It was taken for granted and as a matter of course by these men of all parties in the State, and we were much too busy to waste time upon such unreal, academic issues...The sense of duty dominates all else, and personal claims recede...no sense of Self entered into the minds of any of the very large number of gentleman I had to see...it caused pain to many honourable men...." - Winston Churchill in Their Finest Hour

How many of us are dominated by a sense of self that is debilitating to the claim of Christ upon our lives or the advancement of his kingdom in us and through us? Partly this is because there is so little urgency. Surely the word is not effected either negatively or positively if I spent another night in consideration, right? Wrong. Within a day or two the fast moving German forces would be atop Paris. Just another afternoon and your heart will be senseless and blind to divine light and wonderful conviction. When we feel only what we want to we abandon "the dangerous duty of delight," as one author called it. Do not be so foolish as to esteem yourself so much that the kingdom within you perishes and the kingdom around you loses a loved warrior. Fight! Not with blind swings for an unseen goal, but for the "joy set before endure."

Pleasant weekend in Port Townsend with the family. Trail runs along the cliffs, new brown belt at 25% off, playing trains with Titus, and reading books on a quiet afternoon. The parents and Stephanie are vacationing until Wednesday. Spoke at Lincoln Avenue Bible Church on the topic of youth and homelessness today. Short and too the point. Please pray for me and those that I love.

articles and thrills

Coffee Oasis got some press today:

http://www.kitsapsun.com/news/2009/nov/01/homeless-youth-service-expands-to-port-orchard/

reading for the internship today:

"We must know how a course of action fits into the over-all plan God has for our lives if it is to thrill our souls with a sense of destiny."

This is taken from Robert E. Coleman's fabulous little book titled Masterplan of Evangelism. Our actions should be calculated for fulfilling purose so they have eternal value--thrilling!

come home, hillbilly boy!

I just finished writing a the story/play for our halloween party. Here it is in full:

(for a follow-up to the evening. There was much spiritual warfare throughout the night. There was one time in the evening, after the play, that there were three groups ministering in prayer to different individuals. I had an opportunity to talk with each of these young people. One of the girls was trembling with inward pain. She would groan repeatedly, "I hurt so bad." She has secrets that she told me would keep me from loving her, even if I was a christian. I was firm, "I love you--we love you here. We will protect you." We cannot make such promises because we are strong, but because One who is strong dwells within. The night ended for me at 1 o'clock. The next day (the day that in which I am now writing) I went on a hike up to a favorite lookout in the area. On a clear blue day, the kind you wish for when taking a picnic, you can see all the way to Seattle. But Seattle is only a toy city in this view. Immediately in front is a valley down the edge of the cliff you are standing on that rises again onto a mirror mountain. It was a needed time to sit and pray. It is so good to "cast our cares" on the Father. Join me with whatever you have.)

Title: Come Home, Hillbilly Boy!


SCENE ONE:
The beauty of the farm -
Most stories begin “once upon a time,” but this could truly happen anytime. Did it happen at one time? Sure it did, and I will tell you that story. But what makes it a good story—like every good story—is that it could happen to me or you just the same.
I don’t know if your familiar with the area. This is the Appalachian Mountains, which stretch from the Great Smokey Mountains of South Carolina through the Catskill Mountains of New York and on North. The Appalachians are rugged and beautiful. It is not only the endless landscape of tree steepled mountains and loosed beasts that make these mountains rugged. The people do their own part to add to the unwelcoming legend that has grown here. If you got on your fastest horse and traveled due East from New York City you would eventually ride right up the mountains. Then once you start heading right on down the other side you would be sure to hit the Father’s farm. Of course it goes by a different name, but to separate it from all others farms we will give it that simple title. Set in a lush valley between the mountains and the Pacific Ocean—which if you paddled a boat across would set you down upon the desert sands of Africa—the Father’s farm was all that one might consider perfect as far as farming goes. I have been told you can hear whispers of His wheat harvest on the steamships that travel up and down the Mississippi and tales of the wild mustangs that are tamed there as far west as the gold rush towns of southern California. I would tell you more, but there is not enough time.

The characters -
The Father who lived on the farm had two boys. One Old and one Young—and for the sake of time that will also be their names. Old had graduated college by the time that the Young was graduating high school, and was planning on returning to the farm to continue the family legacy. There was opportunity for both of them there for the ranch, as we have mentioned before, cannot be measured by the eye for it spans over hills and across rivers; however, the younger son was not like the older. He didn’t want to go to college, work on the farm, and if we are going to be honest—like all true stories should be—he was not always excited to live in the same house with his family.

The discontent of the farm -
You might not find this difficulty unusual, but it must remembered that in farming and families it is sometimes hard to tell which one has been around longer—the bloodline or the dirt. The Father’s farm had been around for a long time. Some say, since even before the world began. So it was a big deal the Younger wanted to leave. He felt limited by the boundaries of the farm. The world was big and that meant that there must be something better out there. Poor reasoning, but mixed with earnest desire even the poorest reasoning affects the mind like a tonic.

Leaving home -
So one day, not long after the return of the Older from college, the Younger gathered the courage to approach the Father. Even this act might seem surprisingly undefiant, but above all the younger could not doubt that his Father was a loving man. He told the Father his desire to live in the world. “Over those mountains are places where building rise higher than trees and people ride machines like horse drawn carts,” the younger explained. The Father was not naïve to any of this. You see, the Father’s farm was a thriving place. Not only was there premium beef served in skyscraping restaurants from New York to New Delhi, but their crops supplied markets around the world with a rare quality of fruit. Knowing this the Father did not smile. He only replied, “Son I love you. I will not force you to remain. From what I have you may take. Only take what I have knowing that I love you.”

SCENE TWO:
The early beauty of the road -
The road seemed fresh to the younger son. New things usually do. In no time at all he saw new birds and trees that he had not seen on his side of the mountain. And for a while things seemed to blossom before him. The sun shone seemed to follow him over the mountain top. The road went on for quite some time and the younger grew tired. Being tired enough to sleep he dropped down beside a crossed street sign.

The meeting of a jovial friend -
What felt like only moments later he awoke to the bright whistle of another person coming down the road. The younger was what one would rightly call innocent. Never being outside the Father’s farm he thought of everyone as being connected by mutual kindness and respect. So he happily grabbed the oncoming fellow and gave him a hearty greeting. Without waiting for a response he told the other young man his whole history and his plans to see the world and of the ability he had to do just that, revealing all the wealth that was given to him by the Father. To this the new fellow then replied, “Ha! Well my friend you have met the right person. I am a sailor. I have seen the world (giving the Younger a slight wink and nudge with these words) and will be your guide. With what you have and what I know we will rule New York.” The Younger knew neither what the wink or nudge meant, but thought him very friendly so responded, “I don’t know New York, but I am done with the old, so let’s go my friend.”

The city -
The Younger had not completely picture New York wrongly. It was all he imagined, yet more. The light were brighter, building taller, and cars faster than he had described to all those back at the farm. Being sure of the rightness of his decision he settled down at once. Since he had always been taken care of before one of his concerns was managing his money. To his delight his new friend offered to help him with that and so he entrust all his inheritance to the capable hands of his first friend. The first of many I should say. In no time at all the Younger was a popular name in upscale New York. He learned that a “party” meant more than a barn and a fiddle. Here party meant people—lots of people—and twenty flavors of booze. At first it made him uncomfortable, especially the other things that came with this loud and fast environment. He had never kissed a girl before. Once he had winked at a girl the pretty redhead in the country church before, but it was nothing like this. As we said before, it was not comfortable at first, but with a little encouraging from his friend, “come on man, I thought you wanted to see the world. (wink, wink, nudge, nudge),” he finally slept with a girl who seemed to like him enough. She was really pretty and it was nice to get attention from her.

When our means end -
This went on for a quite a long time. The Father had given him a lot. Then one day the house was quiet. It was nice to finally have a quiet day so he thought nothing of it until the evening. By the evening the quiet was almost unbearable. It is hard to be alone when you have carried on for so long. He went out alone for the first time since he had entered the city (you know someone is familiar with a place when they just call it “the city”). The buildings did not seem tall anymore and the street lights seemed dull compared to the rays of sunlight that spanned across the silver lake back home. Home! It was so distant now, even hard to imagine. “Oh well,” He thought, “I would not be welcomed back anymore. Imagine telling Father what I have done. And Older brother always thought that he was better than me. Just think what he would say.” It was completely dark when he returned to the apartment without a yard that he now called home. His key didn’t work in the door, so he tried another. This evening does not allow for a complete retelling of the following events that would leave the Younger even more alone than before. You see, his friend (though it would be a disgrace to continue using that word for such a person) had indeed taken care of his money. He had paid the rent for exactly two months, with the rest he made the connections that he himself wanted and boarded a one way flight to Mexico.

Dejection -
To tell the truth the Younger looked quite silly sitting on the curb in his pajamas. He had not thought of changing when he went out for his evening walk and now that was all he had in the world. Being as resourceful as he could he rode the bus to the end of the free zone and then made it to the edge of town by hiding under the seats and then running off the bus. Despite his distance from innocence he still felt bad for doing such things. If you have ever walked further than from the bedroom to the kitchen in slippers you might find a little sympathy in your heart for our lonely boy. Dirt roads were made for pick-up trucks and boots, not the thin clothing and cloth shoes that this young man wore.

SCENE THREE:
A cruel master -
By watching the boy walk you might have thought all he had known was hardships. If his shoulders were not attached to his neck you would think they would have fallen to the ankles.
His hands remembered the work that he once knew so well so he headed back into farm country. Still on the waterless side of the mountains he found a pig farm and applied for a job. The master of the farm spoke in grunts and points. It is all you can expect from a man who lives alone with pigs.

Pigs of despondency and a hope beyond -
The man was not used to society or companionship—he too had been hurt by the world— so he made the boy sleep with the pigs and treated him little better than the animals that he fed. It might surprise you what the depressed heart can put up with. But there was something too familiar about the dirt to make him forget a memory that now seemed to be almost too distant to hold. It was a small thought, but a thought nonetheless. It was a moving picture of a loving man who owned a mansion. All his servants lived in the mansion with him and his table was never without food. One day it came to the young boy in a flurry of wonderful thoughts, that that man was his Father! His own father! “I know what I will do,” the boy spoke to himself, “I know that I am not worthy to be a son, because I did not listen to the loving words of my Father, but knowing his love I will ask for forgiveness and beg to be his servant. Oh how wonderfully he treats even his servants.” Fearing the wrath of the cruel master he currently worked for the Younger escaped in the middle of the night and upon finding the first road he headed due East back over the mountains.

SCENE FOUR:
A Father’s run -
Soon enough the boy began to see familiar things. The refreshed mind is an amazing thing. As he walked he remembered the names of trees and the songs of familiar birds. He rejoiced to be in this strange country that seemed so wrapped in love. How had he not understood this before? How could he think there was a better place in the whole universe? The place was so familiar now that he knew he was within shouting distance from the house. Then as if some unseen hand had grabbed the collar of his raggedy shirt he came to an abrupt stop. Could he really do this? Had he not taken advantage of the Father? He was not worthy and he knew that well. It seemed to be the greatest truth in the universe at that moment. He was not worthy to be loved. A terror filled his heart. Not a terror of the Father or this beautiful place, but a terror of all that he had done and become. He was not worthy and that was it. Numb and emotionless his body turned itself around and moved slowly back towards the dark trees and nothing. Then there was noise. A rustling and commotion, the sound of panting and running feet, and then an embrace. The Father had come!

The exchange -
It was the Father who finally turned the son around. “Ha! You do not think I would let you go again,” the Father spoke through bearded smile. The son, to overwhelmed, fell and could not lift his eyes or his hope for fear that it was not true. For hope is easy to lose and hard to regain. “Sir,” began the son, not daring to call him Father, “I am not worthy to be called your son. Please forgive me. Please, please just take me as your slave. I don’t even need to stay in your home, just let me stay in this beautiful place.”
“Son,” returned the Father, “I forgive you. Do you not remember what I told you when you left? From what I have you may take, because I love you. Be my son. That is what I want.”

A feast -
The Father and son returned to the farm arm in arm now being more aware of the beauty within than the beauty without. That night the whole farm feasted together like never before, because the son who was lost had been found.

There is more to be told. But I will leave that for another story.

But I will add this: There is a moral to be had from this story. The boy was lost. We can only be lost if there is such thing as being found—a place to be that once you are there you are found. Our hearts long for a home. They feel lost. The moral of the story is that there is a Father and you are a child. The moral of the story is “come home, hillbilly boy or girl!” Your spirit longs for it, but for a long time you have played in the city of sinful desire or sludged in the in trough of the pigs of depression and despair. “Go home, hillbilly boy or girl!” What awaits you is “foundess,” what waits is home. I do not pretend that all have memories of home for you are fond memories. Home may equal hurt for you. You have found pigs as companions even in the place you grew up. Perhaps you even grew up with the mean farmer as a father. Now that you have heard in this story of a good father and a warm home, I will tell you that it is true. You are loved and have been loved. God waits as a Father to welcome you home.

go away

There is a sad reality with age: minutes shrink. I feel like I have less of them. Sometimes it takes a trip or a drive--a purposeful stretching of a moment--to elongate them again to pleasantly abide rather than hang-on and survive. There was no "in-betweens" today. You know what I mean, no between this and that to do little things. And it is not a problem of busyness. It is the problem of "The Busy." Perhaps you are lumped in that hurried group. Again and again I read in books how Martin Luther would not go a day without praying two to three hours. Proportionately the average christian spends more time telling people that they need to pray, rather than actually spending time in purposeful and violent intercessory prayer (a guess, not a statistic). "God use me." Here is my prayer. I don't want to use myself. I will exhaust me. God wants to refresh me. Jesus asked his disciples, "Come away with me for awhile." Only He knows how to fix and refresh our inner part. "As some of the poets have said, 'In Him we live and move and have our being'" (Acts 17).

His body a bridge

Much ado over the weekend, but I will leave the details to your intuitive prayer. One part of the weekend was Living Free classes at Destiny City Church in Tacoma, WA. We took 24+ to a three part class on living by the power of the Spirit, because of the victory Christ won for us. Another part of the weekend was starting "Sunday Lunch" at The Solid Rock Cafe in Port Orchard, WA (also known as Coffee Oasis III). 15 people showed up to eat chili and cornbread in a restraunt setting. We are partnering with New Life PO (and other churches soon!) to provide a meal every Sunday for those who are in need or homeless. The idea of being "in need" is so general. For some the need is no more than the ache for companionship or (most likely "and") to hear about Jesus who loved them and gave himself for them--an ever-satisfying water and food that they have not known or heard of (O but how many know and yet do not drink!). The majority of the people that came were homeless, but some also just wanted to share a meal. Please pray for these lunches as they take of and we look for more churches to fill the Sunday slots.

Great joy in the Spirit over the unblushing romance of God in Ephesians this morning. Hallelujah in the morning for the fog between the trees!

Here is a song a friend emailed me and I appreciated so much I thought it should be passed on (I recommend clicking on the youtube link and reading the lyrics as you listen to the song):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTwNkWPdHVw

I crewed on a fair golden ship that
Went down at the dawn of the world.
We mutinied and sentenced our captain to die,
‘Fore our sails had barely unfurled.

We sank shortly after our riot;
Wanton flame and our powder kegs met.
While I swam for my life there came voices aloft
-Joyful, unearthly, and dread -

Singing of a violent, tireless mystery:
That one would give his life to save his enemy.

Too bone-tired to keep my arms moving,
To swim or even grasp after straws.
The undertow drew me down into its cold
And infinite indigo jaws.

I heard singing of a violent, tireless mystery:
That one would give his life to save his enemy.

I thought I must be dead or dreaming,
When my captain - still battered, betrayed -
Pulled me up, laid me over the beam he’d clung to,
Breathed his last, and sank under the waves.

Your body is a bridge across an endless sea.
Your body is a bridge across an endless sea.