Iraqi priest, Father Douglas Bazi, has been kidnapped and tortured by anti-Christian elements in Iraq, runs a refugee shelter out of his parish for Christians fleeing ISIS, hosts a church that welcomes Christians from several denominations to worship together, refuses to take up arms against his enemies…

Why does this Iraqi Christian sound so much more like Jesus than most of the popular Christian leaders in the US? I feel stirred up and challenged by the Christianity Fr. Douglas is putting to the test as he cares for some of the most vulnerable people in Iraq. He makes those convictions seem normal for a person of faith. May God give us all courage to step forward into the radical surrender of Jesus and pray for our brother, Father Douglas Bazi. And may there be peacemakers who proclaim Jesus as Lord here and all over the world. May we too be willing to say no to war.

Originally published at Hello Horatio…

Like many in my demographic (30-something white male), I’ve embraced an inclusive stance toward my LGBT friends. Frankly, it was a little hard for me to do so because I come from a very churchy background, and most all my family and childhood friends were/are from rural and suburban America. Nothing particularly edgy or counter-cultural is embraced in these environs. My parents often took risks—in businesses, in friendships, in church life—and caught a lot of flack for doing so. So I guess I learned from them what to expect when you run against the crowd. And I probably also inherited some of their fears of being an outcast.

During my junior high school years, I began to take notice of my body. I was as an anxious boy, well-liked by most adults but often bullied by peers. It was easiest for me to simply avoid any peer interactions where the group’s spotlight might shine on me. I feared scrutiny. I feared judgment. I was most terrified just by the laughs and teasing common to a puny eighth grader. My mouth would dry up. A lump would begin in my throat, making it almost impossible to talk. I didn’t want to cry, but it seemed my body had different ideas. And crying wasn’t my only fear. I worried I would trip as I walked by a group of cool kids. Or that I’d shoot an air ball in front of the girls standing by the basketball courts.

The most personal and vicious verbal attacks happened in the boy’s bathroom. Any vulnerability or apparent weakness could be preyed upon with almost no consequence. I recall once deciding to use the large stall for students with disabilities instead of the open urinals, just to avoid onlookers and jokes about the size of my you-know-what. But even that resulted in a boy telling me and everyone within earshot that I must be “handicapped.”

Perhaps, then, it isn’t too surprising that in high school I started hanging out with gang youth who had themselves faced bullies and somehow still seemed strong. I wanted to be a somebody in the face of my “nobody” status. I respected their ability to overcome. They faced bullies at home (with alcoholic step-fathers), in the community (with police and other gangs), even at school (from administrators and rich white kids). As a new disciple of these “nobodies” who fought back, I learned I could threaten or intimidate a person into submission, which seemed, for a while at least, to wipe away my anxious life.

Of course, it was soon clear that I would also have to censor my loving side and anesthetize all fear. I went off the rails in many ways: used drugs, became addicted to sex, dropped out of high school, joined a gang. I hated myself along with anyone who seemed weak. Violence became almost normal. It wasn’t long before I created a huge mess, and even my best excuses ran out on me. It took me a long time to realize I was lost. It seems that for some of us, maybe most, real changes happen gradually, and circling around or doubling back is a part of the walk home[1]. Why did it take me so long to embrace the turnaround?

About a year ago I had a dream about an old friend (I’ll call him Rudy) who was a gang leader. In this dream, my large and tattooed friend came walking into one of the old apartments where we used to hang out. Typically, Native American and Asian families resided in this neighborhood due to cheap rent and extended family ties along the street’s corridor. Their apartments were neat, with wall-to-wall carpeting. You would find a dozen or so modest one-story structures close to each other, embedded alongside small parking spaces and half-planted beds of dirt and shrubbery. In my dream, I sat down alone inside a home that might have been anyone’s from back then. Rudy sat down next to me on a small couch that defined the hallway close to the front door and asked how I was doing. I noticed he seemed calm and focused on me in a compassionate way, almost like he knew my fears without me saying anything and would gladly just sit there with me. Then he told me something I didn’t expect. I heard him say, “I’m trans.” No qualifications or further explanation, she just exhaled her short-and-sweet confession without any stress.

In real life, Rudy is not actually transgender. In fact, we only recently made peace with each other after 14 years of estrangement and a difficult past. For some of that time, he had been in prison for violent crimes. But in my dream her peace became so attractive that I very much wanted to be like Rudy, to tell others the truth about my hidden life and to not be afraid. Thinking about it now, it strikes me as meaningful how strongly I admired her (in my dream) just for telling the truth.

Swiss theologian Karl Barth[2] suggested that every one of us has a “hidden side of our being” where we are in touch with God, whether we are aware of it or not. Like a muted prophet, we want to tell others of our joy and the promises of a better future, but somehow our mouth remains shut:

Yes, we certainly talk with each other, we find words all right, but never the right words; never the words that would really do justice to what actually moves us, what actually lives in us; never the words that would really lead us out of our loneliness into community.

I want to speak. Sometimes I don’t know how. Maybe in a moment of honesty, with the safety of Rudy’s grace sitting right next to me, I won’t stay quiet. Maybe I’d say that I’m not entirely comfortable with my own sexual history. That “being a man” has often meant lying to myself and others. That instead of honesty and freedom I’m too often guarded and feel inadequate.

But God’s love hovered over me in my dream about Rudy. Who would have thought a former gang member, even a violent felon, and yes (in my dream at least), a transgendered woman would be God’s chosen messenger to crack open my unrest? Biblically speaking, this wouldn’t be the first time a transformational (and transgressive) community unexpectedly came into being. This is the heart of what happens in Acts 10 as a whole new community of outcasts is invited in.

I can still see Rudy sitting there with me on the couch, expressing her love in an almost muted way—communicating the simple message that we are okay. That her story and mine are more alike than we realize. In my dream we were waiting for a proper response, some kind of inward movement toward the headwaters that created us. Even now, within everyday life expectations, I can sense a real response coming to me. I’m happy to say, while under this influence, it’s incredibly hard to keep my mouth shut.

Here’s a letter from Julissa about our Peru trip. It’s also an invitation for those who may want to join us…

Dear friends,

Words cannot express how joyful I feel to be writing this letter to you. It is like a dream come true for me and my family. This will be our third trip as volunteers in Peru!! Woohoo!! Thanks for your support in helping us go and please let me know if you want to join us.

Some of you might not know who we are as a family. I’m from Peru and Jason’s from California. Fortunately, we both speak each other’s language and love each other’s culture. As a couple, we’ve been traveling to Peru ever since getting engaged in 2003. We now have two wonderful children, Gabriela and Santiago, ages 4 and 7. They come with us to Lima for family visits and volunteering as often as possible. Our Peruvian family and friends always show us such incredible hospitality. Like good Latinos, they know how to celebrate life and make us feel like guests of honor.

Lima is the capital city of Peru, with a population size of almost 10 million. You will see a lot of poverty in Lima, including many children selling candy or gum along the busiest streets during traffic. On the other hand, there is also a lot of extreme wealth. You will see signs of that the closer you get to the beach. Those districts have fancy malls, American-looking fashion, nice cars, tall buildings, etc. The traffic all over Lima is often very congested and unpleasant. But Peruvians do not seem as bound to the clock as us Americans, so on most occasions it is ok to be “late.” Peruvian food is delicious (see “How Food Became Religion in Peru’s Capital City”). You will love the unique flavors and ingredients.

The neighborhood we plan to spend most of our time in is pretty far away from the beach. Our mission will be to serve at a Vineyard church there. They have volunteers from the church to support the children of their neighborhood through youth groups, one-on-one interaction, and creating little communities in their homes.

There is so much need and, at the same time, they already have so many willing people who do an amazing job in that community. When we were there these last two trips (see here and here), Jason was able to meet with some of their families to do mental health assessments (he is an MFT). He also spoke with a group of parents and staff from the ministry to talk about parenting. My father-in-law, Ken, led music and worship leading workshops. I primarily focused on building relationships and hearing people’s stories.

We will be going again this June 21st-June 30th, 2016. Winter over there (during our summer). The trip will last approximately 9 days: two days of traveling and seven days of ministry. That said, anyone is welcome to stay longer if they want to and we can help with recommendations on where to go. For example, some may want to travel to other parts of Peru (i.e., Machu Picchu, the Amazon jungle, or the Andes).

During this project, Jason and I will arrange for everyone’s accommodations and transportation to and from the site. Church members provide us with a room and sometimes even meals for our whole group. We make it a point to bless them along the way as well. The budget for our trip includes: air travel, taxi/bus fare, food, sightseeing, and gifts for our hosts. All in all, the whole trip can be done for around $1000 (for an individual).

We would like to plan a few meetings before the trip to get to know each other and talk more in detail about what to expect. We are very excited to start this process and will let you know about the dates and times for those meetings as we get a response from those who want to go. Again, please call or email with any questions (530-354-1312 or julissa AT hotmail DOT com).

Yours,

Julissa and Jason Winton

“One of the best things you can do in this world is take a nap in the woods. I slept soundly and without moving for half an hour. As often happens at such times, my mind woke up before my body did. My eyes opened right out of sleep, and I was looking up at the gently stirring treetops and the bright sky, with no other thought on my mind, and my body still deeply resting. It was delicious and I did not want to move.”

—Jayber Crow (page 347)

This quote brought me back to an experience I had during the summer of 2000. I was in rural China with a team from college teaching English to Tibetan children. After a long week of teaching and culture shock, my fellow teammate, Jeff, and I went with our western advisor, Owen, to a remote village accessible only by walking or donkey. We arrived in a place so far from industrial cities or any “super power” that, for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I felt in awe by what we saw: mud walls reaching above our heads, garden foliage poking over the tops, winding passageways patted down only by hoofs, carts, or humans, all this spread between ornately-carved portals and courtyards leading into places for human flourishing.

With this beauty and our cross-cultural exhaustion catching up with us, our Chinese host wisely invited Jeff and I to take a nap. This man showed us a neat room with a pad stuffed tightly with wool and covered by linen, and then opened the room’s sliding doors to the courtyard and garden. We laid down and listened to the garden speak in micro-movements and heavenly sounds of living things in communion and harmony. It reminded me of a real place to be at home and live. I don’t actually remember when I nodded off, but I do recall the feeling of rain in the courtyard. It was a sensation like earthly peace and the spirit of grace anchored in me from a village that we had been led up to and that we would leave in reverence by sleep, by non-human creatures, by hospitality, by rain.

I am grateful that Wendell Berry reminded me of something special from my 21st year, of a summer spent in China’s Tibetan Plateau. I may never return to that plateau again, but a story like this keeps my interest in sleeping outdoors and may in fact put me on the hunt for those special places everywhere I go.

I have a vision for a faith community to spring up around a free clinic to serve South Chico. This clinic would contribute to our community’s needs by providing behavioral health and spiritual services for free (or on a basis of “pay what you can”). All may contribute, but the goal is to erase any economic barriers to receiving help. This kind of generosity is key to the healing we seek to offer from our hearts.

I see the clinic using a location in the vicinity of Chapmantown (for example, 1010 Cleveland House or Bethel AME Church) for office space and to meet one-on-one with people seeking help, to gather groups for spiritual direction and worship, and as a drop-in desk for questions, advocacy, accompaniment or prayer. In addition to traditional counseling, the clinic may use outside spaces such as the 14th St. Garden and the Jesus Center Farm for learning new work skills and hearing God’s voice.

Although I am a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist and part-time Counselor at Butte College, the emphasis for this counseling ministry is what I call accompaniment. Accompaniment is as much about prayer and hearing from God as it is about addressing poverty, oppression, and mental health issues. It is holistic spiritual friendship. It may include but is not limited to professional counseling. Each person seeking help will have many different kinds of needs; counselors will work with them toward an integrated kind of healing.

The long-term goals for this clinic may reflect many wonderful things in South Chico, but I am praying for God’s grace to make this little mustard seed grow among us in a non-anxious and non-stressful way. The logistics are pretty simple so far. Undoubtedly, we will need to make some adjustments along the way and maintain flexibility in order to work out any miscalculations. But the possibilities are inspiring to say the least.

Jesus taught his disciples, “Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons. You received without paying; give without pay.” In order to cover my own costs of facilitating the clinic and on behalf of those who join me in volunteering, I will pray for God’s grace to give freely and expect that he will provide for us better than we can imagine. When I have needs, that is, for housing or healthcare or other types of physical necessities, I will trust God and lean not on my own understanding. Like Jesus’ own vulnerable approach to ministry, we will depend on our Father in heaven who still takes care of his children.

God may lead others who see the value in what we do and are inspired by it to contribute with their own gifts (Luke 10:4-9), but we will rely on prayer and not fundraising to bring about the abundance we need. When our hearts are willing and eager to give, we feel incredible strength and hopefulness, even in poverty. In essence, we feel God’s Spirit giving to us right as we relinquish control of our stuff. We sense his presence guiding us and making it plain that we can depend directly on him.

I would ask you to join with me in “practicing his presence,” obeying Jesus’ command to love as He loves, freely giving to the poor, even becoming poor ourselves, and leading others with the simple things He’s given us to do. May we feel his Spirit blow right now in our hearts toward a mission of love, and a ministry committed to those both inside and outside our familiar boundaries.