We all walk in Moses steps
strike the slavedriver
burn the bush
seize the snake
and test the ancient God

while cramming in
another prayer
on the morning ride.

Looking for the green light
I thought was God saying
GO!

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More Five Senses reflections, following up on my previous post…

Lately we at eMergingCity.com have been getting some beautiful compliments about our site being vulnerable and authentic. These are compliments I initially appreciated. However, I must admit that these concepts now feel far less attractive to me than ever before.

Often I am tired of such a personal commitment to this sort of integrity, for several reasons. For one thing I have no idea who our audience is out there, and it’s not easy to lay it all on the line like this. Nonetheless, I feel as though I have no choice. For the past two years I have been feeling like all my “dirt” is out in the open regardless of where I am. I have been deeply committed to my phrase, “Never be fake, always feel pain, and never turn down healing.” A phrase I said a while back that I thought just sounded promising, not something I ever thought would prove to be so life-changing.

This phrase, this way of life, this approach to faith has brought me closer to the practice of spiritual formation in Christ than I even imagined. I didn’t know I was looking for it, but I am certainly finding it. This style of living has taken me to places of “awareness” within myself that I do not appreciate. Living into this phrase forces me to live with integrity, and in all honesty, sometimes integrity is something I’d rather do without.

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I belong to a really awesome church located in an area where God’s love can have the most impact—where the saved and delivered in Christ can embrace the abandoned and shut out. I am very aware of how amazing committing your life to Christ can be.

But I can’t accept Christianity as the universal cure-all for every failure that plagues humanity. There is a great divide between those of us who openly struggle with God—with our experience of his presence or absence—versus those who shuffle and smile with the intention to convert atheists into believers. “Look at this false sense of joy and security I feel in having a close personal relationship with Jesus. All you have to do is accept him in your heart and you too can have this joy.” I find that image very dangerous.

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I suppose it’s time to admit it: Our church has been a failure. More than a decade after a handful of dedicated people brought it into being, Jubilee Community Church has, for all intents and purposes, closed its doors.

A glorious set of ideals brought the church together in 1993. Jubilee grew out of Neighborhood Ministries, where Ted and Shelly Travis had been (and still are) ministering to children from “the ‘hood” (the northeast Denver neighborhoods of Whittier, Five Points and Cole) for many years. They had hoped that planting a church would enable the ministry to continue long after those kids had grown up and were raising families of their own. They also hoped that Jubilee would be a place of spiritual refreshment for busy urban ministry families who spent much of the week investing in other people’s lives.

My family joined the community a year later, when there were about 15 people worshiping in Neighborhood’s small multi-purpose room. After ten years on the staff of a large suburban church, it felt exciting to be on the ground floor of something new and different. It didn’t matter that the music was far from professional or that there were no dynamic programs for our kids. We felt like pioneers, doing something counter-cultural and important.

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To: The Man
From: A social activist-writer
Re: Letter of resignation

Dear me,

I’ve been in the throes of a personal crisis, that’s why I’ve stopped working and put off writing for several weeks now. It all started when I realized that the people who are supposed to read my writing aren’t the ones I’m trained to address, and those I feel inspired to help may not need it.

You see, I always imagined it was my “calling” to write and serve for the betterment of society. My reviews have noted the good work and creative writing I did for “betterment,” which included informing, encouraging and empowering through education. We also presupposed that the better educated I was, the better I would be able to change the world. This was confirmed at my previous job when my supervisor noted, “you’re in the wrong job, you’re a better writer.”

Writing and serving wouldn’t be difficult if my audience was only people like myself – analytical gadflies, members of the helping professions, experts – people determined to make the world a better place. Yet we’ve also assumed the society to be addressed and bettered through our program includes the working poor, teen mothers, incarcerated fathers, drug dealers, gang bangers, crack-whores, wanna-be’s, wetbacks and welfare moms.

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Last week I learned a lesson in love that this week I have to put in practice. We traveled last weekend to a college to interview interns for the summer. These trips give us a time share the story of God’s work and see the working of the Holy Spirit in their lives. During our visit, I stayed with some dear friends. Their family is full of love and faithfulness and I am uplifted whenever I get to be with them. One member of this family teaches me more about Jesus every time I am with her. Her name is Katy. Katy contains in her the most powerful gift of love I have ever seen. I realized this time it was more than just love.

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It’s all about the Bible.

Seems like the longer I live, worship and serve in close proximity with people who suffer, the more complex many of life’s questions get. For some reason, I thought it would be the other way around. “Ministry on the margins” raises all sorts of issues – political, philosophical, cultural. As a follower of Christ, each drives me back to the Bible, hoping to discern God’s wisdom. The trouble is, a lot of my friends are digging into that same Bible with equal (or greater) intensity and integrity – and drawing different conclusions than me about important matters.

So I’ve been doing some reflecting on “how” we read the Bible. Sam has “asked” (i.e. forced) me to post some of those reflections over time, mostly because he likes seeing me in the middle of controversy.

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Last Saturday I had the pleasure to meet with some of the women from Joshua Station one on one. I’ve made it a point to do this with them for a few reasons, all of which revolve around sharing our stories with one another. Meeting with them gives me an opportunity to get to know them a little better, and for them to know me a bit more intimately. Through this exchange of rapport I began to ask them for some of their ideas of what this group should look like. I wanted to find out what it was that they desired to get out of coming to this sort of thing.

Women like us throughout our lives have constantly been involved with groups. Some have been voluntary, most have been mandatory. None of which we’ve had a shared sense of ownership. In meeting with them I wanted them to know…I wanted them to believe that this was different. They needed to trust that this was not Tiera’s group, but our group. The best way I can think to do this is by the followin: 1. Inviting them to share in the vision 2. Helping them feel like they have a vested interest 3. Transfering some of leadership ideas to them by letting them shape this group.

None of these are easily done.

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The short answer to this question is that the kids end up on the streets for a million different reasons.

I would like to tell just one of their stories. Tally has lived in Colorado her whole life. Her dad was never part of her life and her mom has always struggled with a drug habit. Tally was passed around among relatives for as long as she can remember. When she wasn’t living with her mom, she was living with her grandparents or aunts and uncles. She never felt welcome.

In fact, when she was only 10 years old, she remembers her uncle asking her when she was going to run away. No one wanted her, so when Tally was 11 years old, she ran to the streets.

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Tony came into the kitchen during Street Church and pulled me aside.

“A.B.” his face was intent and showed a concern beyond his 12 years, “Why does God make all these bad things happen to us if He’s supposed to be good and strong?”

I was truly speechless. For one – what a question, and two – I had no idea that Tony was putting together such complex information. He’s a really smart kid.

And I’ll be honest with you, I stumbled with what to say. Sure I could rail on about how we caused all this trouble or emphasize that God wants our love to be sincere so He gave us freedom and choice – but it just seemed so top shelf of the library rather than the urban streets we live on. These kids live out the things that wake us up in nightmares. They know darkness in a gripping tangible way.

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