Real Men Don't Kiss?

I kiss all my boys. My boys don't hesitate to kiss me--well, Nathan not so much now. I guess that is OK. But I've never been ashamed to show affection to them.

I grew up with a dad who didn't show affection. He never kissed us, that I can remember (although he did kiss my mom a lot--at least before they were divorced). I can't remember him ever hugging us. My brother is divorced and is not affectionate.

I chose not to be. I don't blame my dad. It wasn't because he was an athiest--he got beat as a kid and did well for how his parents mistreated him. My brother has done the best he could for how he was raised. My dad told him he had hated him since he was 5 (he said this when Geoff was 14). My only fist fight with my dad was when he hit my brother with a rake. I told him I was going to kick his *** and I just about did.

So I started this fatherhood thing with some baggage--and I still struggle with it. However, I always said I wouldn't be afraid to show affection. Jesus brought forgiveness and healing to my life and my father wound. God has been my role model as a father (and sometimes mother). Seems to be working so far. I think our kids can easily forgive us if they know they can hug us safely.

Led By God Under a Bridge Part 2

So we went to lunch together at Louie's Chinese Restaurant in Chinatown. We had a good meal and it was hot.

He had been in and out of rehab and was now 9 days clean from heroin and crack. He was wanting to get off the streets and we talked about options. I feel that it is better to give options and empower people to choose, rather than choose for them and tell them what to do. It was obvious that something was bothering him. As he talked about his past and how he self medicated, I kept probing as to why he chose the path he had. He kept stating that he had pain and it was hard to accept himself. I understood.

"So, you really believe that God led you to me," he said.
"Sure," I said, "I have learned that God works that way."
"What if I would not have been there?" he asked.

I shared with him that I would be sitting with someone else, somewhere else, eating lunch. However, I suggested to him that there are so many people (I used the term so many you can shake a stick at) like him that God sends us to who we meet. Unfortunately there are not many who will go so there are plenty who need but few who will go. Therefore, I would have met someone.

He was silent. "But," I mentioned, "I listened to God and that is why I met you. God has always tried to reach you--sometimes you closed your eyes, other times people God sent bailed before they got to you."

"So people make choices," he said.
"Yes," I replied, "sometimes people make good choices, other times they make bad choices. God offers the choice, people either choose to do or choose to ignore. Yet most of the times God chooses not to intervene."

He understood. "But there have been times when I thought God was leading, but it ended in disaster. I have lived the last few years believing that God punished me and did that to me. I have been angry with him."

I understood. I mentioned that people make choices. If I had walked to him, as God had led me, and some guys met me, robbed me, and beat me up (before I got to him) would God have still been to blame? It was clear that God had led me to the bridge, but did God put the guys in my way to hurt me?

He shook his head.

Led By God Under a Bridge

Thursday morning I was making my usual trek downtown to see who God would put in my path. Pioneer Square was covered due to the Ale Festival. As usuall most of the people I usually see are gone from the square. I have found that searching the bridges, riverfront, and Saturday Market area gives more people to meet. This day I got off the MAX and headed to the river. Something kept urging me left to the steel bridge.

"Not interested," I kept saying. "It's rainy, 11am, and everyone's left." I don't know--I used to be pretty logical about everything but since last year I have started listening to those urges, prompting, feelings--whatever you want to call it--however I think God's Spirit is the author of what is happening. I've stopped questioning this--because God always is glorified when I tend to listen.

I walked a ways, confirming my suspicions that it was too wet, too cold, and too late. Bridge folks usually head to town before the police come and fine them for trespassing.

There he was. A young kid (although I found out later he was 28) sitting, huddled under the steel bridge. He was cold, shaking, and had his head down. I walked straight to him and he watched me with his eyes. "Hey, how are you," I said. He justed shook his head. "How would you like a hot meal, say--lunch is on me?" I asked.

"You're kidding," he said. He looked as if I was up to something. Maybe he thought I was one of those guys who hangs out downtown wanting to sexually abuse or prostitute young boys. I could understand his skepticism.

"Nope, just a hot meal and you can be on your way."

"Sure," he said.

More tomorrow. But for now--God was right...I was wrong.

525,600 Minutes

Well, it's definitely the Christmas season. You can hear the hum of the engine of busy-ness cranking into full roar. And...ironically, we're in a series at Otter Creek about time and how our time belongs to God. It's hard not to feel the irony.

The series is called "12 Million Minutes". We have a creative planning team for worship now--approximately 15 people serve on it. The team is made up of artists, music people, children's ministers, those with a contemplative bent, some drama folks, videographers, writers, idea people, etc. It's such a blessing!

As we've been putting creative elements together for this series on "Time" it's been fun to have a balanced group who surfaces incredible ideas. This Sunday we will have a special dramatic reading of Eccl 3 put together by one of our members. Last week, Scott Owings and my mom wrote a contemplative prayer exercise and led the congregation through it on Sunday.

When I heard the title, "12 Million Minutes", and the description of measuring our time by God's design and purpose, my mind immediately went to the lyrics from "Seasons of Love" (the hit song from the Broadway musical RENT). It goes like this...

525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear.
525,600 minutes - how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes -
how do you measure a year in the life?
How about love? How about love? How about love?
Measure in love. Seasons of love.

525,600 minutes! 525,000 journeys to plan.
525,600 minutes - how can you measure the life of a woman or man?
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.
It’s time now to sing out, tho the story never ends
let's celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends.
Remember the love! Remember the love! Remember the love!
Measure in love. Seasons of love!
Seasons of love.

So, this Sunday we're doing something I never dreamed of doing on a Sunday morning...a song from RENT. It will be presentational and will set up the sermon. We rehearsed last Sunday and got the arrangement down. It should be fun...and I figure if the apostle Paul can quote the poets of his day...so can we! All to God's glory.

Two Worlds One Mission

I just returned from 5 days in San Diego. I presented a paper at the annual Society of Biblical Literature and American Academy of Religion national conference. The AAR includes many religion scholars and the SBL includes the scholars of the Biblical texts. This will be the last year that both groups will meet together. As always I enjoy this conference. This year I was sruck with some interesting thoughts.

The conference was at the San Diego convention center and my hotel was in the Gaslamp district. Each day I walked about a mile one way to and from the convention center. Each day I passed many homeless people. In the evenings I walked by the crowded restaraunts, bars, and strip clubs along the district. Each day I attended lectures, papers, panel discussions from Bible and Religion scholars. I would suggest that many of them don't really believe God exists. However, many on the streets probably believe that God doesn't care.

I felt like I was in two worlds. One was the world of reality. I went to lunch with one of the homeless guys--he loaded up his plate, picked the most expensive drink, thanked me, and then said he needed to go lay down. Portland homeless folks eat with me and visit with me. San Diego homeless seem to go about their way. However, I found out that these men don't really care about many of the discussions going on in the convention center that week. I realized that the people in the Gaslamp district weren't concerned about the scholarly arguments and discussions we were having.

The other world was a different reality. The reality of the world of the scholar. This world discusses the integrity of the Biblical texts, ancient culture, the existence of God, languages, theology, and philosophy of religion. It is a reality that needs to be discussed. But it is a reality that can overshadow the reality of the Gaslamp district. I would walk to the hotel each day accepting that the Gaslamp district needs to inform the academic world that theology needs to address common issues in life. The Gaslamp district needs the academy and the academy needs the Gaslamp district. The sad reality is that many of our churches have held up the scholars as our heroes, and being one I tend to see why. However, who will be the ones reaching those on the streets, those in the bars, those in the strip clubs, and those who don't care about the convention center discussions.

On the other hand--we need the academy. In Portland we have lost many of our doctors in theology/ministry. John York, Tim Woodruff, Dave Bland, Mark Love, Rex Hamilton, David Fleer, Mark LaValley, and Bob Whiddon. Some left to take college positions, others were dismissed from their churches (churches which now struggle to grow). I decided not to be an exiting doctor--I decided to stay and reach the people in Portland. Lori and I had the opportunity that many did not have and we chose to stay. The doctors left and we suffer. Our churches struggle theologically--we need the scholars. Good theology drives us to the Gaslamp districts, bars, homeless, strip clubs, and our community. Good theology causes us to engage people and help them to see that the convention center discussion that we need to have exists to empower others. Good theology helps us to grow and be evangelistic.

The AAR and SBL will form two separate conferences next year. The hot topic at the conference was how religion scholars and Biblical textual scholars need to work together and be togther. I guess this is a common problem. We forget that theology and ministry work together to empower people to come to Jesus. We forget that feeding the homeless, loving the strippers, and engaging the discouraged are what the text calls us to. I had a great discussion with some of our Christian college professors about the need for the church to reach new people and engage them in the text. We're all thinking the same thing--we just need to work together.

All Welcome to the Table

What a day we had Sunday for our Friends' Day. 101 showed up, including the guy sitting outside who we invited to lunch. Great worship and celebration of Agape's 6 month in existence. We had a wonderful worship, finished the Gospel of John, and had a huge Subway sandwich for everyone. Yet, as Lori and I talked about the day these thoughts came to mind:

We all brought friends from Dignity Village, Pioneer Square, homes in Southeast and Northeast Portland, Vancouver, Michigan, Cascade College, Portland State. People from various places in life, various sports, various struggles and addictions, various worries and concerns. Yet, at communion, we mentioned that all were welcome to the table. Sometimes in churches, this is the one time people are excluded. We all communed together and talked about how we are all in God's image and all have the right to become children of God, when we believe (John 1:12).

Its hard to believe that 1 year ago we were 16 people in a home. God is good!

I am sitting at my desk. To my right is a stuffed bunny--of the "Peter Rabbit" variety. If this were LOST right now, there'd be some cool underscoring of music and I'd be flashing back in time a couple of weeks.

It had been a really, REALLY awful couple of days. Details aren't necessary. Just trust me in saying that the Satan was really finding joy in my brokenness. After a long day, it was time for Sheryl and me to put the kids into bed. As is our routine, we took turns laying on the girls' beds and as I settled into Ella's bed she asked me how I was doing. Kids are very perceptive.

I told her, "I'm kind of having a hard time today, honey."

She replied, "I know, daddy. I can tell," and gave me a big hug. Then, Ella reached over next to her pillow and picked up her Peter Rabbit and kissed it. She handed it to me and said, "Daddy, I want you to have this. You can keep it for as long as you need to. You can even sleep with it."

I had tears streaming down my face. Ella is a very loving child. But, this felt more like the hand of God through Ella. I took the bunny. I sat it on our bed and felt the comfort, the power, and the absolute beauty of a child-like heart of compassion.

The next day I tucked "Peter" into my computer bag...Ella checked just to make sure... and carried him to the office where he sits on my desk as a reminder of God's mercy in my life.

As I have contemplated God's presence this afternoon, I have been comforted by these words of Jesus: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

God reminds me...He's near.

Bridges, Trolls, and People

When I was a kid I remember the story of the 3 Billy Goat's Gruff. In the story the goats had to cross a bridge where a "troll" lived. The troll was mean, scary, and wanted to eat the goats. I learned as a child that trolls and monsters lived under bridges and we never went there in the dark.

As I grew, bridges and overpasses became a place of refuge on a long road run. We would take shelter under the bridge if we were caught in a heavy Midwest/Missouri rain while on a 10 mile run. People would be fishing under the bridges and sometimes we would see people camping or living in that safe spot. Most of the bridges I saw were out in the country but I never saw "trolls or monsters." Just people looking for safety and shelter.

We have had some folks visit Agape in the last couple weeks. One of them filled out the visitor card and put "homeless" for the address. I asked where they stayed and they told me one of the bridges in Portland, and they told me which one. He smiled and I said I will come find you this week.

So I did. I got off the MAX at China Town and began looking under the bridges. I saw many people sleeping and trying to find shelter. I found our visitors who smiled and said, "We almost gave up on you." We went to breakfast and talked about life, God, baptism, pre-marital counseling, and why they like Agape. We hugged, prayed, and shared about families, finding a safe place, and helping others. These are giving people, real people, and people who love God. Some struggle with a worlview of hopelessness, addictions, and despair. Others provide hope and support. They are a community of people in God's image. No monsters, no trolls, just children of our Creator.

They brought friends to Agape and we had 62. There was a lot of excitement and they shared with me that they feel accepted and supported. WOW! God is working.

So Lori and I will visit this week with our boys. I hope our sons hear these stories about bridges, not the ones I heard!

Why Not Gather at the River?

August 30 was the date of our second baptism at Agape Church of Christ. It has been almost a year since the first one, but with the launch of this new church 3 months ago, we are seeing many more studying to put on Jesus. We met at a state park along the Columbia River in Washington. It is interesting that this has been a popular place to hang out since Lewis and Clark made this their last stop along the river.
A popular hangout? In my many years of baptizing people, and watching others baptize, I realized that most of the baptisms were in a baptistery. How private! I don’t just mean a few people gathering to see a baptism, I mean a private “Christians only party.” God forbid anyone who doesn't believe see this sacred event. Besides--they wouldn't appreciate this anyway.

The folks ahead of us picked a spot way down the river. I was wondering why we weren’t by the place where everyone gathered. I started talking to a young couple about their 2 week old baby and the conversation turned to why I was there. It was obvious that God had placed us there because the father was talking about religious things—you know, how he smokes pot, loves Jesus, and can’t find a church. The more we talked the more he wanted to know about God’s love, why we came there to baptize, and why a minister would give a pot smoker the time of day. “Can I come watch her get baptized?” he said?



I made the long trek to the baptism site which was somewhat isolated. In spite of this, God was good and the couple, their baby, and 3 family members came to see the baptism. As usual a conversation happened with our group, the woman about to be baptized, and the visitors. It was beautiful. How often does someone share their faith and their reception of God’s love immediately before they are baptized? Our visitors cheered, joined us for cake and ice cream, and became teary eyed when I told them how God’s love was shown in Jesus. Even better, three other young people, after witnessing the baptism, came over to ask who we were. As they carried their beer cans one told us about her church home as a teenager.

Why not gather at the river? What an opportunity to teach, witness, and show the power of God. I always feel great at a baptism, but this time I saw firsthand that people still seek God. Too often we are busy avoiding people, celebrating the private Christians Only party, or thinking that beer drinkers and pot smokers don’t have a soul. Yet it is in the quiet places on the river where people ask questions about God. It is in the quiet places on the river we find where people rejoice in the simple act of baptism. It is in the quiet places on the river where the kingdom is revealed.

Should we avoid the public display of rebirth? Only if we wish to avoid conversations about Jesus.

Isn’t baptism a private event? Only if you let it be!

We Think We Know Jesus ....

... but do we?

I blogged about Jesus for a month. Visitors to my site dwindled. Comments shrank and grew fewer.

We think we know the Son of God, Lord and Savior, Master and Friend, Teacher and Rabbi.

But the more we look at Him, the more blurred and muddled our stereotypical picture of Him becomes.

He defies our analyses. He explodes our myths. He refuses to fit our boxes. He will not remain in our tombs.

He says things that provoke us. Things we cannot, try as we might, fully comprehend.

He speaks an eternal language, and though He simplifies with story, the complete meaning simply eludes us.

Even when He asks His closest friends who they think He is, most of them struggle.

One of them has help with the answer.

Can we ever be so confident that we know Him and what He would want us to do/not do/say/not say/live/not live that we no longer seek; no longer ask; no longer knock?

There has never been a time in my life when I felt like I knew all the answers about Jesus. I knew people who thought they did. I was flat-out jealous of them (and a little bit guilty for that envy). I honestly thought they might.

But I don't anymore.

If they had, they could have made billions writing books that would have outsold even Philip Yancey's The Jesus I Never Knew - and I'm pretty sure he's got a better grasp of the character, in many ways, than I do.

What are some things you were sure you knew about Jesus ... concepts that time has capsized and sunk?

LIFE ON THE FARM: Our Puppies Can See

Now, I have nothing against other dog breeds, but I’m certain that our Golden Retrievers, besides being man’s best friend, are categorically the best dogs on the earth. First, they’re beautiful. Second, they’re intelligent. Third, they are compliant (Labrador and Poodle owners eat your hearts out!). Fourth, they’re profitable.

A good portion of my oldest son’s college education has been paid through the sales of ‘golden’ retriever puppies. Harding University Faculty owes a portion (probably a very small portion) of their income to our Goldens, and the marble staircase in the new addition to the old Heritage Center was likely funded (in large part) through our golden pups. But, there is more. Our Goldens have also provided us with a treasure more valuable than dollars. They’ve given us insight into a truth….The Truth.

The farm teaches many lessons which find counterpart in the unseen. Our puppies’ eye-opening experience is an example. The third day of their lives is monumental….it’s the day their eyes open. From then on, our puppies can see.

Before this time, they live in darkness. Other senses serve in place of sight. Mom is known through the smell of her breath, the feel of her tongue, the taste of her milk, the sound of her bark. Straw bedding has no color, no shape, nothing to which it can be compared other than Mom and darkness. For three days these cute little bundles scoot and crawl along on their tummies in total sightlessness…then comes day three.

Sudanese soldiers rape young Darfurian women, and then bite them to leave a scar. The scar will last, so these young girls will never be married. In Appalachia, nine year old boys fill summer nights with raunchy pornographic videos and erase their innocence. Teens pop pills for fun, girls exchange purity for popularity, men cheat and retreat, politicians spin. People, like blind puppies, scoot, crawl, and grope their way through life. Wouldn’t we pity puppies were their eyes not to open? What then of people?

Encouraging news. Light may still come. People navigating the dark in their lives often feel that life holds more than has yet become clear. It comes as a hunger that is not satisfied by what is first believed will fill it; or as a thirst for a sweeter existence. It isn't easily explained, or even clearly pictured, though it's strongly and deeply felt. Something senses that "it" is a reality.

The smell of milk wafts about a liter of puppies and they know she is near. Intangibles encircling us too: like a never forgotten kindness that portends the reality of something that isn’t hate filled or self-seeking; like the the hollow in a heart; like the failure to find true satisfaction, the an inexplicable (maybe even unwanted) attraction to spiritual things. Confusion, guilt, love, emptiness, grief, longing, peace, satisfaction, dissatisfaction, brokenness….they are blurry images….but of what? What are we not seeing?

On the third day, Jesus rose. The women and His disciples saw him. Their hearts had burned, but then their eyes were opened and everything was different from that day forward. Purpose, position, power, loss and gain, sacrifice, weakness, popularity, poverty, suffering, ridicule, death…everything made sense. Despair turned to joy; hardship to blessing. What had been meaningless became profoundly significant. Their eyes were open, at last, and life took on a form that wasn’t at all what they’d imagined.


“I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints and his incomparably great power for us who believe.” --Ephesians 1:18-19


Lord, bring day three. Open the eyes of our heart that we may see, really see, what we have felt was there, what we have longed for, what has been our companion since the start, what we sense is willing to be seen…if our eyes are open. Let us see Man’s True Best Friend. Amen.

Things that make you go Hummmm--er....

I've been noticing a lot of the new Toyota Hybrid cars in Brentwood. I think that's cool. I really would love to get a hybrid when my car finally dies. It's paid off, has 135,000 miles and sounds like an airplane. But--I have a car.

Truth be known, I like cars. A LOT. I could really be into owning cars--but then there's that whole extravagance thing. It's really hard not to want to go into major debt so I can drive the kind of car I really want. My taste in cars varies. I would love to drive a Mercedes convertible. But...I'd also like to drive a retro VW van...orange, please.

We're in a series here on Sunday mornings at Otter Creek called "Our money, God's Business". It's convicting. Really, REALLY convicting. Last week we had a drama where a couple was trying to pay off one credit card by signing up for another one while in the same breath buying a new boat. Welcome to our consumer driven lifestyle.

Isn't there a reason Jesus spoke so much about money? Isn't there are a reason why people get so defensive when the topic comes up? If we wore our financial records on our sleeves for the world to see, would it be a testimony to God...or to ourselves? (I am NOT ready to do that--and am talking mostly to myself here.)

What I see more than Hybrids around this neighborhood are Hummers. And when I see them I do frequently have to comment out loud... "Hmmm." It's mainly curiosity. What do those people do? How can they spend in gas what I probably spend on my mortgage? What are those things good for (besides looking really, really cool)?

Rob Bell has a DVD called "Rich" that speaks to our consumer driven lives. We're playing it this Sunday. He says that we are depleting the Earth of resources faster than it can replenish them. It is troubling. And It makes me think that we should re-think the words to "Jesus, Lover of My Soul"...and apply them to all of life and not just that "holy" hour on Sunday.

It's all about You, Jesus
And all this is for You
For Your glory and Your fame
It's not about me
As if You should do things my way
For You alone are God
And I surrender to Your ways.

Entertainment or Engagement?

This is a picture of Pioneer Courthouse Square. This place is a popular hangout for downtown Portlandians. I also hear that it is the hangout for homeless/runaway teens. Some have reported that Portland has the highest teen runaway drug rate in the country, and of course, many of the kids are here.

I have been going downtown to meet some of the kids and get to know them. I will take some to lunch and talk about their lives, God, etc. Last week I met 4 young people and had a great visit at Carls Jr. Interesting. They feel safe, are enjoying Portland, and feel church is not for them.

So here we are trying to reach young people. Some tell me young people only want entertainment in church. But is it entertainment or engagement? Is the church trying to entertain or trying to engage others?

I had one of the older men, who hands out God Loves You Cards and preaches at the kids tell me, "When are you going to come down here and preach at them?" I noticed that there is a group of older men who preach "fire and brimstone" to the people. "That's not my way man," I told him. "I would rather go down and visit with the people." "Well," he said, "if you get past the orange throwing and egg throwing, its not so bad." It is interesting that the street preachers preach at the kids who already are beat down. Yet across the street is one of the wealthiest shopping malls in Oregon--no one goes there to preach.

Once again, is the problem that the church has to entertain, or is it that we need to engage?

I would have to say that the last 2 weeks have been very eye opening. Those crazy college students hit me again. They are like the dream police (remember the Cheap Trick song). They inspire Lori and I do take risks and try to learn to love unconditionally. Although we are not completely there, we are learning.

I have taken some of the homeless folks and couples out to lunch while at Pioneer square. One came to Agape a couple weeks ago.

You know, when you eat lunch with someone, instead of giving a few dollars, you learn a lot about them. It helps to talk with them to and ask them about their life. I am learning empathy and compassion. I'm sure some stories are bogus, but I believe much of what I hear. People are broken but hope seems to live inside so many young people. They are appreciative but somehow they realize that people are generous, God is good, and they will not starve to death.

They are humans, in the image of God. Worthy of respect, even if it is only a Big Mac. Some believe, some want to, others are simply angry.

So those crazy college students and that Irresistable Revolution keep haunting me. Maybe its because I used to believe like that--but I learned from those who were leaders, those I were told to respect, and those who said we could trust them that it couldn't be done. I came to believe that experience was greater than faith (it is actually worldy wisdom according to Paul in 1 Cor. 1). Those who weren't doing suddenly spoke with authority. So I followed, believed, and quit doing. Maybe I called others to quit and fall in line.

God--thank you for sending the prophets, the faithful, the youths, the idealists. May we take risks, believe that love will win out, and give as you give. May we earn the respect and right to lead this younger generation by our radical love and compassion.

Those Crazy College Kids

Sunday a couple of our college students from Cascade College brought two folks from Dignity Village. Dignity Village is a transitional tent community that is becoming a city, within Portland, for homeless people. Those crazy college kids have no boundaries, no fear, and no desire to spiritually die as many of us already have.

Lori and I spent 3 hours at Dignity Village today (whenever you visit Agape, we visit you). What a blessing. What a wonderful group of people. What hearts. They spoke of the college students with a smile and shining face. Seems that these kids every Wednesday pool their money, make a Taco Bell run, and bring tacos to the community. They called them the taco girls (isn't it interesting how historically females have had this heart for the poor--sometimes males do but less often). We were humbled.

Lori and I left talking so much about what we were wanting to do. We want to bless these folks and want so much to listen to their stories, their community, and their reflections about God. Yet, we are indebted to the students who continually show us what it means to be like Jesus. I went away with some sounder conclusions:

1) I love Lori more and more every day. She beams when talking to the people and is so comfortable with anyone. I know that we will always be a team and love visiting with people together.
2) Our boys are going to love going with us to help in whatever way we can.
3) College students are not idealistic--they are courageous. If we want to lead them we had better be too.
4) I was taught that hard work brought success and financial stability. This is a lie, sometimes things happen and you lose it all, no matter how hard you have worked and saved.
5) Jesus has spoken to me through the Bible, a book called the Irresistable Revolution, and a group of college females who love people as we should.

My prayers are that Agape will be able to lead these kids when they return for the Fall. My prayers are that Agape will minister to Dignity Village with love and compassion and learn from them the wonderful lessons of community, support, and human courage.

Houston We Don't Have a Problem

Thank you to all of our supporters and those praying for us. There is so much to say, and so many emotions running through our minds and hearts at this time. God is good and we are excited to officially be in Portland as a new church.

You can visit our website www.missionagape.com to pull up the Powerpoint presentation of our first worship service. Sorry--I don't know how to copy the link here!

Summary:
105 people attended
12 visitors attended the after worship session to discuss home communities
4 responses from the area due to our mailout
Many responses stating they will return Sunday, even to help come early to setup
20 people who were looking for a church home attended
The Custodian continues to attend and came over for lunch
2 people ready to attend Core Values class
All 5 home communities will be full in the next couple weeks
This comment from one of the visitors in the nearby apartment complex. He emailed Brad Barbarick, one of our home group leaders...

Brad - It was nice talking with you today. I'm still in a state of shock. I just can't fully come to grips with fact that a church is
meeting in the cafeteria at Lincoln High School. This is a blessing! I will be attending regularly. Look forward to talking with you again.

Core Team did an excellent job and made contacts during the egg hunt and the worship.
Launch team did an excellent job getting us ready.
Park Plaza team did an excellent job helping us get ready. We had 20 show up to help us prepare and follow up. What a wonderful group of brothers and sisters. We strengthened our relationships and developed strong spiritual bonds. They worked very hard and encouraged us greatly.
Kairos Church Planting has once again prepared a church to launch and begin a new work in a city hurting and seeking relationship with God.

I could go on but the pictures say it all.

Please keep us in prayer as we continue our outreach this week.

Life On The Farm: Ruin, Roots, & Recovery

I walked the mountain this morning and made a discovery. A few weeks ago a series of small, but potentially large, fires burned in the forest near and on our farm. Today I found where fire breaks had been cut by the forest service and walked the length of one.

Powerful, indiscriminating equipment left a swath of crushed rock, raked bark, ripped earth and twisted saplings. The forest’s beauty was gashed, bruised and battered. The saplings appeared to suffer the worst, but from them I learned the most.

They are recovering. Though the limbs were ripped from them, though the bark was skinned away, though they were knocked to the ground and trampled by enormous weights and forces…they’re recovering…resprouting from the root.

New limbs have begun to bud. In a few weeks, they’ll be launching sunward, producing leaves and seeds. The damaged parts will eventually die, though removing them altogether would be most healing. No, these saplings will never quite be what they were intended, but they’ll survive and they’ll thrive. People can too.

Bull dozer size events bowl over children, innocents, good people. They’re trashed by some maniac driven by the fire of Hell. In a moment of unconcern, he rakes across them without discrimination, and leaves smashed, scratched, and shattered lives. The wounds are deep. Irrevocable. Why are beautiful lives battered? How do they recover?

I believe the saplings demonstrate the cure. They start at their roots. Who we are is not dictated by what happens on the surface, but by our connections in the deep hidden center. Find the source of your life and you’ll find the strength for its recovery and renewal. “I am the…life,” said Jesus. Scripture says about God, “In him we live and move and have our being.”

The scars, the twists, the wounds don’t define who you are. Cut them off. Draw on God. God loves, nourishes, feeds, cares and shapes. Reach for the Son. Pursue his will and ways with all your heart. Focus, as everyone should, on things above.

Just as it was never God’s plan for bull dozers to level the forest, he never had in mind that we should be hurt. But Evil exists, and people are pulverized. Like rich soil, God is near, able to nourish recovery, deliver life and produce new discoveries every morning.

Is It Really A Sacrifice?

Photo by Craig Volpe

Today is our monthly day of fasting and prayer from our Agape Church plant team. One of the things that today does for us is to remind us that we can easily get into a routine. This morning I can't tell you how many times I almost put something in my mouth--leftover breakfast from the boys, a granola bar, pieces of cereal, that fruit that might as well be thrown out. It reminds me that I have been doing something the same way for 30 days. Today is change. Today is different. Today is out of my normal routine. Today I conciously make a decision to be different. Some would question why we would give up freedom--for only a few hours. Will it really make a difference? Why change the way I usually do things? Why--for a goal, a cause, a committment. To reach people I don't know, have never met, and who think differently than me.

Is it uncomfortable?
Is it abnormal?
Is it strange?
Is it Biblical?

But fasting and church planting/evangelism are the same. They are a concious choice to do something that is not part of my normal routine. They are a willingness to say, "I'm tired of watching others starve spiritually and I will make the sacrifice to change that." Yes it is a small sacrifice--but it is also a willingness to alter a routine.