Doors, dreams, and desicions

Something I have been praying about for awhile is joining or starting an intentional community house.  I have always pictured it being in an urban setting.  God may have other ideas.  There is an opportunity before me to start a new monastic community.  There is a missionary family that still owns a home in Michigan.  With the ecconomy the way it is, it makes sense for them to hang on to it till it becomes a sellers market.  In the mean time they are wanting to bless it those that have need for it.  A two story, 4 bedroom house for less than $100.  I am praying about using this house and property to enter into the crazy world of communal living.  The catch, like I said is that it is about an hour outside of Lansing.  Not the typical place new monastic communities arise.  But God loves the country folk too.  I hope to be able to check out the property in the next few weeks as well as start visiting churches in the area.  I am greatly excited, as this could be a huge oportunity for God to move in some exciting ways.  I am trying not to let my excitment run away from the obvious pratical matters that have to be ironed out.  God lead me.  Bring people that have the same vision for this house as you do. 

Broken Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy

I have "fallen slowly" in love with Glen Hansard, from the movie Once.  His music is nothing less than pure bliss on a cool summer day, with a light rain beckoning you to come play, but you just sit by the window cause though you want to go outside and dance barefoot, it hurts too much.  So you let your mind drift back to when you and your lover used to dance in the rain and under the stars in a field of wildflowers.  He is that mixed with a little wild streak, kind of like your friends when they find out that you have been sitting by the window for the last hour reminiscing of a lost love.  They first tease you, then punch you, then drag you out of your pathetic state and take you out for a drink.  Yeah, that is Glen Hansard, lead singer of The Frames and member of the duo Swell Season.  Check him out.

All this is monopoply money; it all goes back in the box at the end.

Speechless.  Utterly speachless.  So eloquently put.   

Poverty? Is it about $

What is poverty?  Our church showed this video this morning.  I thought it was worth sharing.  Extremely thought provoking.  This is why I go out to the streets and try and befriend people.  This is why I bring them back to my home when appropriate.  If one of your friends were on the streets, you would help them out.  What is the difference with someone you don't know.  The mere fact that they are a stranger.  Your best friend was a stranger to you once.  You spoke with them.  You invited them over.  You paid for their meal more times than they have paid for yours.  But then again they paid for the movies more times than you.  It all equals out, right?  Tell that to the friend curling up in the alleyway tonight.  This is worth thinking about as we go to bed in our nice warm homes.  Most of us have an empty couch that we would be more than willing to have our best friend crash on.  But the weird smelly guy hanging out at the gas station we never go to cause it's on that street.  You know the guy: sweatshirt, baggy jeans, smells, matted hair, smoking a cigarette, asking for change.  Having him on the couch would be uncomfortable.  But for who?  What if he is your new best friend?  What is poverty?

Words to ponder

Read this today and it reminded me that I need to read more Mother Theresa.  A woman of great wisdom.  We miss you.

http://theashram.blogspot.com/2009/10/exhortation-from-mother-theresa.html

Dude where's my car?

Walking out to the parking lot and noticing that yoru car is missing.  It would be scary for most anyone.  And it was for me today.  Until I remembered that it isn't just my car.  I just stepped out into my first communal experience with co-owning a car.  My firiend and I are enjoying the fruits that come with equal ownership of our new car.  This experience has thus far has tested my trust, selfishness, pride, fear.  And the weekend hasn't even arrived, when he is taking it home to be with his sister.  I have a lot to learn about communal life if I am wanting to move into an intentioanal community. 

New Life

It was a cool October night.  My first pumpkin pie of the season and I destroyed it.  Me, along with Tyler.  We were in a pie eating contest, the first to finish won a free pizza.  We won.  A few weeks later, a went out and had a great time watching a movie and eating pizza.  As excited we were to win the pie eating contest, we were celebrating something far more spectacular with that pizza.  We were celebrating my birth.  My birth into the Kingdom of God. 

It's been twelve years since the night I first met Jesus.  I wish I could say that these twelve years were one's of passionate love of a man toward his God, but they weren't.  I wish I could say that these twelve years were full of ridding myself of all the unrighteousness that God hates, but they haven't been.  It's been a long, trying journey.  A journey of one man trying to fight, push, climb, crawl toward a single goal.  A journey of that same man, giving up time and time again, not understanding the usefulness, or advantage of pressing forward.  A journey of a man that cowardly has given up time and time again. 

I wasn't the only one to have a birthday on October 4th.  A new generation has come into the world.  The first generation below me in my family.  My cousin had a little girl, Taylor.  I pray that her journey will be better than mine.  I pray that she will be stronger and wiser. With this birth I reminded of my own.  She is innocent, and full of life.  With Christ, I too can become innocent and full of life.  The innocence that comes with new life is offered every day through Christ.  May I too become like a little child and rest in the arms of my Father. 
 

Home

Was reflecting on my recent trip to Seattle a moment ago with a couple of friends.  I was describing how comforting it was to be thousands of miles away from anyone that knew my name.  It's a comfort beyond words.  Sitting on the shore, eating fish.  The smell of salt mixed with beer hitting my nostrils flooded my mind with thoughts I never had before....or sense.  I voiced words I never thought I would utter.  I felt like I had arrived home. 

Home.  A metaphysical ideal more than a reality.  Growing up "home" was always the place I wanted to escape from, instead of place of safety from the world.  No.  For me the world offered safety, freedom.  Home was the one place I never wanted to be.  The place I dreaded more than anywhere else.  There was a strange irony in calling my place of residence "home".  For if "home" was where I was, then it wasn't where my family was.  Where ever I went family were waiting for me.  I never could arrive.  I never could get settled.  I never could find home.  Home was always out there waiting, beckoning, calling.

I saw it a few times.  Dreams mostly.  Reclusive thoughts of a place far away.  Water splashing the shore.  People, strange, pleasant people living their lives, giving little business to mine.  Not in a arrogant way, or even apathetic.  Merely a tolerant acceptance.  Peaceful.  Wonderfully peaceful.  People that love....you....me.  Love you enough to ask you how you feel about cigars.  Love you enough to say that you need to have an opinion.   Your own opinion.

Are there bad people?  What is bad?  Who decides?  Are "they" bad?  I grew up being told that those that smoke were bad.  But my Aunt smoked and I didn't think she was bad.  I did learn that it was bad for me to be in a car with those that smoked with little fresh air.  Now however, it's not so bad.  As long as the window is down.  Sitting outside with those that smoke?  There is little that is better in life.  I even realized that as a kid, sitting outside on my Uncle's porch late one night talking with my Aunt as the cool breeze filled out lungs.  I grew up being told that those that drink were bad.  But my dad drank, and I didn't think that he was bad.  Though I was scared the night I learned he picked up me for a visit drunk.  Now?  I still don't like being around drunks (unless I am wrestling).  But kicking back with a Corona or Jack and Coke with some friends is relaxing.....almost like coming home.  I was told growing up that people that lived on "that" side of town were bad; to lock the doors when we drove down "that" street.  There are days when that's advisable, when Brian or Mike are too high to carry on a conversation with.  But there are also days when I pile them and their friends into my car and go out to eat, my treat.  I listen to their stories.  We laugh, cry.  I hear of their kids, their parents.  I learn how to make a rose out of napkin.  I learn how they ended up on the street.  I do what I can to help.  I learn that they don't want my pity.  I try to show that I am not giving pity...but really care about them...as people...as friends.  People I would love to bring home.

But not to my parents.  For my parents don't live at home. 

They say home is where your heart is.  My heart?  My heart is out there.  My heart is wild.  My heart is free.  My heart is home.  Not at rest...but at peace.  I don't know if home will ever be a place of rest for me.  But peace.  Whew.  I long for peace.  I have always longed for peace.  I found a comforting peace in the wonder of Seattle.  A peace I didn't quite expect when I headed out there.  Though I didn't know what I had found, I think I found home.

What do the stats show?

Interesting article I came across on the growing religious trends in america. 
http://www.usatoday.com/news/religion

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the world around me

I need help with something.  I need help in understanding the price we put on someone's career.  I found out today that a friend of a friend lost their job.  Not surprising in this economy.  What is surprising, at least to me, was his severance check.  $10,000 a month for the next few months, can't remember how many.  And more, he is terribly upset at the amount.  Wait, there is even more.  Since losing his job, he has turned down 2 job offers both of them about $90,000 each.  Why?  Not enough money.

Not enough money?!?!?!  When is it ever enough money?  When will our greed be satisfied?  I just don't get it.  Seriously, I don't.  I don't understand why people think that some people are worth "x" amount, while others are worth "y".  I don't understand how people get trapped into thinking that this world is about money.  I don't understand the how someone can put a price tag on themselves and say I won't work unless I can make "x" amount.  Really, it seriously baffles me.  And deeply saddens me.

Needless to say, I was shocked when I heard this.  I tried to wrap my mind around what this young man was thinking.  The more I tried to understand his mentality, the more I wanted to cry.  I had serious questions floating in my mind.  Who assigns these price tags to people?  How did we ever get to a place where we think we are good enough to actually work for these extravagant prices?  Do we realize what working for these prices does to global economy?  Why do some careers offer big bucks, while others offer you little to nothing?  Is there more driving people in their decision of career choices than money?  If there is, then what?  How do these other rewards stack up against money?  What is money in the first place?

I thought of me, for example. Everyone knows that you don't go into ministry for the money.  It's doesn't pay much.  Working on staff at three churches and one para-church ministry, I doubt that I have made $20,000 total.  I don't do it for the money.  Would I like more?  Of course.  But I don't need more.  I have a roof, clothes to put on, and everyone can tell by looking at me that I am not even close to going hungry.  I thought those were the things we need.  Basic necessities of life.  Everything else is luxury.  Now granted, I live an extremely simple life which wouldn't be practical for most people.  But the point still applies.  We are living and have grown accustomed to living well beyond what anyone person should.  I also don't have dependents, which this person had.  I am not going to pretend to act like I know what raising kids costs.  But I do know it can be done for far little than $90,000.

I think it is time we started reassessing what truly matters in this world; what truly matters in our lives.  Money is needed, that's obvious.  But what we spending it on?  Who are we to declare that we, or anyone is worth a dollar amount?  Are we guilty of selling our soul?  What do we do with all this wealth?

These are serious questions that demand our attention.  I just hope it's not too late.