“Go on up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good news; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good news; lift it up, fear not; say to the cities of Judah, ‘Behold your God!’  Behold, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; behold, his reward is with him, and his recompense before him.  He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young.” (Isaiah 40:9-11)

Thanks, Jim…

Here’s another piece from my email conversation with a friend (see the others here and here):

What does it look like [“to immerse ourselves in the depths of ‘follow me'”]? Jesus seems to teach complete dependence on God in every area of life (economic, social, political, with family, church, etc.). We demonstrate this faith by looking to God for help and trusting how He gives. Weakness and poverty, in that sense, helps us overcome our separation from God. Whereas wealth and human strength will do the opposite. Yet following Jesus is not just about giving and/or helping, but about having a close relationship with God (i.e., oneness).

Here is another response I wrote to a friend from yesterday’s email conversation:

First of all, let me just say that I feel a little embarrassed “preaching” about Jesus’ call to poverty and dependence on God because I still have a great deal to learn about it myself. That said, I do have some experience with poverty/dependence and also with learning about Jesus’ difficult economic teachings in the Bible. So I’ll give it my best to respond to the comment you mentioned at the end (“the Bible puts more emphasis on extreme giving than it does on choosing to live as poor”).

You are right that Jesus emphasizes “extreme giving” and the list of Biblical quotes that Compassion put together makes that point pretty well. However, as much as I see the good in simply sharing what we have, especially in selling all and giving to the poor, generosity without Jesus’ overall context of weakness and vulnerability does not necessarily help someone understand the life he lived. Hopefully, you and I can see the full impact. I’m not sure an organization (even a good one like Compassion) really gets it.

Jesus taught his followers in general to become poor (and to stay in that place of vulnerability) in order to become more spiritually rich and to avoid the stress and burden that comes from wealth (Luke 22:22-34). He also directed his followers to endure attack and persecution without shame or retaliation and to refuse to take up power to ensure that others do the right thing. In Luke, Jesus warned the twelve about wielding power over others. Ironically, this came right before he allowed his own betrayal and arrest:

The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you. Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. For who is the greater, one who reclines at table or one who serves? Is it not the one who reclines at table? But I am among you as the one who serves. (Luke 22:24-27)

Jesus and his disciples notably did not form a charity in order to demonstrate their faith or help people with their great economic problems. He did feed the crowds, but then refused to keep on giving in that way (“Do not labor for the food that perishes…” John 6:27). He demonstrated a way of life that required personal contact, repentance, and faith. This would be impossible for a charitable organization to make happen (imagine the absurdity of developing services for people with the requirement being Jesus’ vulnerability and love).

We are told through Paul that Jesus “made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant” (Philippians 2:7). And yet we are encouraged by charitable groups, communities, and even sometimes churches to make generous donations in order to preserve our somethingness (relevance?) to the world. I can affirm good work (and have supported Compassion for the last 6 years). But it’s hard to imagine an organization encouraging its members to give their life away as humble servants (without thought of keeping their own authority and power) (see Matt 20:25-28).

Perhaps my favorite examples in the Gospels about poverty in the kingdom come from (1) Jesus’ instructions to the twelve as he sent them out as well as (2) the profound truth he affirmed in the poor widow who gave all she had. These examples, and my own desire to live them out, have made me more and more willing to give up my stuff and fall into God’s care through economic dependence and faith:

And proclaim as you go, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without pay. Acquire no gold nor silver nor copper for your belts, no bag for your journey, nor two tunics nor sandals nor a staff, for the laborer deserves his food. (Matthew 10:8-9)

and

Jesus looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the offering box, and he saw a poor widow put in two small coins. And he said, “Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.” (Luke 21:1-4)

This is my part of a recent email conversation with a friend:

I think non-resistance is the way to go. And you have the right idea about the outcome (“what is not valued (possessions, wealth, position) can hardly truly be taken”). This was Jesus’ teaching as well:

 Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back…But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.  (Luke 6:30, 35-36)

Cooperatives and credit unions are good examples for us to consider, especially in our consumerist economy, but in my opinion they are only one shade of the complete picture. The real colors start to fill in when we truly “renounce everything,” like Jesus taught, and follow him. Maybe we too quickly forget that Jesus’ life really ended, and that He lost everything, due to unjust laws and unjust people. He is our example, and yet He did not physically resist those who intended to carry out an evil plan. Instead, He prayed to do the will of his Father. That should be our prayer as well, no matter what the circumstance.

This does not mean that Jesus became a “quietist” who stayed silent and withdrew from evil. The opposite is actually true: he was killed and hated for the things he said. The difference is that Jesus never tried to force the evil out of someone. He never used violence or some other threat of worldly coercion in order to overcome their evil intent. He trusted God to restrain evil and lived a completely free life in the midst of it, speaking fearlessly about the consequences of sin and of a real repentance that was possible.

One of my favorite passages in Luke offers Jesus’ response to the problem of theft and competition: “Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys.” (Luke 12:33) Greed cannot corrupt us and we will not be overcome by it, if we abandon ourselves into God’s hands like Jesus did.

In that sense, physical poverty may be the best path to a prayerful surrender of our will to God, who is able to protect and care for us much better than we ourselves would. I know my life often seems more complicated and a bit too murky to envision like that. But if Jesus is right (and my writing here accurately portrays him), to what extent are we doing what he said?

“Today is a nice day!” That’s one of my son’s new favorite lines to say in English. Another variation is, “¡Éste es un nice day!” For him, it’s as simple as we went swimming or because of what he’s eating for dinner. I get excited about each day’s progress, too, but in other ways. I want dependence on God, I want to continue a life of love and follow Jesus. But maybe I should be more like Santiago. This other stuff I get excited about feels elusive at times.

Father,
I abandon myself into Your hands;
Do with me what You will.
Whatever You may do, I thank You;
I am ready for all. I accept all.
Let only Your will be done in me,
And in all Your creatures—
I wish no more than this, O Lord.
Into your hands I commend my soul;
I offer it to You with all the love of my heart,
For I love You, Lord, and so need to give
myself, to surrender myself into Your hands
without reserve,
and with boundless confidence,
for You are my Father.
–Charles de Foucauld

Catching Up

Joyfully choosing Jesus’ life has been even harder than what I initially imagined. So much has changed: our plans for the future, our family life (in both concrete and hard to describe ways), and many littler things that will take some time to unpack. Just to recap on the details: I’ve been working part-time and volunteering for almost two years, while Julissa recently started working as “extra help” at the Public Library as well as giving private Spanish lessons to preschoolers. We’ve had housemates come and go; most recently we said goodbye to Lonnie as she took a job in Tennessee. I continue to grow food here at our community garden, but we now mainly give to our neighbors and guests rather than the Jesus Center kitchen. Also, I’ve increasingly focused more of my time on being with our children, Santiago and Gabriela, which has meant less involvement with some of the folks I used to see all the time at the Jesus Center. My work and ministry plans have shifted throughout all this, too, though the dream of starting a free clinic in Chapmantown for counseling and spiritual direction continues to be an important vision for me.

I recently read an old 2010 newsletter from Iris Ministries, which reminded me again how good it is to practice Jesus’ way of life. The Bakers wrote:

Heidi and I began our life of missions with the dream of living out the Sermon on the Mount, taking Jesus at His word that we did not have to worry about tomorrow. We imagined addressing extreme human need by example, living without anxiety, free to bless always with pure motives, looking to God alone for what our hearts and bodies need. We turn neither to the left nor to the right to gain support. At every obstacle our only confidence is in the Cross of Christ, and the conviction that God is thrilled to be trusted for miracles all along our way.

I am reminded of my own newsletter a few years ago (Working Out Our Salvation) and how Jesus’ example had become a living witness about those things for us. We wanted His experiences to become ours as well. I’m finding now that the truth of His Life often comes in waves of understanding and openness to the Spirit. We don’t seem to get it all at once. But I can’t imagine taking anything back.

Even through the sea-sick feelings I sometimes have when the actual steps seem to take too long or the prospects for our family bringing healing in our community seem pretty dim. I’m just trying to say “thank you” for everything, no matter what the “facts” might seem to say about us. Of course, we all seem to have some sticky moments of doubt. Sometimes the dreams we hear whispered from God seem barely more than our ordinary thoughts. Still, I can’t help but be excited about and wonder where this life of revolutionary Love and vulnerability will ultimately lead us.

More Adventures…

Besides emphasizing our challenges amidst new directions, I would like to also share something new that we’re excited about. Julissa and I have been planning a trip to Peru for the last few years, but have not pulled the trigger due mostly to Gabriela’s age and the increasing costs of travel for our family. This trip would be a little different than prior ones. Instead of simply going to visit family, we would like to serve alongside a church (El Viñedo de Laderas de Chillón) for 2-3 months. We came to know this community during my first trip to Peru back in 2003. We stayed in touch with them over the years mainly through our friendship with Guillermo and Lisset Sifuentes (pastors at El Viñedo).

Their congregation is comprised of over 70% children nowadays, which the church has uniquely embraced. Their ministry has become more and more holistic as they respond to the need in their community: providing clothing, school supplies, nutrition/food, increased spiritual attention, etc. Our desire is to work alongside them. We see it as an opportunity to grow in our dependence on God and love for others. We hope to be there this December (2013) and stay until sometime in February (2014). We would love your prayers.

Some Final Thoughts

Coming home, I’m sure we will need some time to rest as we add up all the costs from planning this adventure, living abroad, and returning to Chico amidst all the other things we do. However, like Santiago reminds me, there is joy in seeing life for its simplest grace: “This is a nice day!”

Our kids also keep us feeling very alive and active. Each month with them is like seeing a new blossom open up. Gabriela will be two August 20th and Santiago will be five in December! Time goes by so fast when I consider how quickly they came and formed a place in our hearts, as if they had been there the whole time.

Being a therapist is both better and worse than you’d think. On the better side, I can immediately engage with people on complicated concerns they have and make some sort of connection they might not have seen. On the worse side, many folks want an answer from the seer and/or a problem-they’ve-fixed instead of genuine healing. I’m going to spend most of this post talking about the worse side, though I’ll have a few other proposals jutted in there as well.

This attitude on “the worse side” seems to originate from any direction: the part of the therapist, the person seeking help, or both at the same time. I actually think there is something wrong with the overall “contract” that people believe in when they seek out a professional person to care. Therapists believe in it as well. Like many folks, a counselor may come to see their licenses or certifications or diplomas as proof that they are to be trusted with private information, vulnerability, etc. And many times people come to therapists precisely because of that. The problem is not that folks want some kind of reassurance, the problem is with who gets to decide what that looks like and who is qualified to serve or heal or listen.

A related problem in therapy has to do with the uneven relationship, which is almost always laden with power-over objectives. From the money (fee for a service) to the confidentiality (pretend you don’t know me in public) to the expertise (I can fix you). Therapists have replaced modern pastors and spiritual directors as the preferred choice for who to let in on your problems. Of course we could find good reasons to appreciate that change, such as the removal of certain types of religious superstition, but this new way also comes with a fee structure, expensive school loans, and a professional statewide board to oversee its healers. Plus, then, therapists also tend to believe in their own BS.

Us therapists apparently have no idea how to treat a person with Love, since Love has no place in a professional bylaw or training weekend. And despite the fact that many folks self-identify with problems of a spiritual nature, most of our training has nothing to do with that. So therapists feel inadequate and many pastors or lay people do not feel it’s their place to get involved. But a fluid and localized body of people who care about each other is often preferable to both professional counselors and clergy. Still, that ideal is hardly welcomed or enjoyed by practitioners or their “clients” on either side.

The biggest change I can see putting forth for conventional therapists would be to prioritize the poor by foregoing any fee structure. Make it a gift economy. In this way, it will resemble one of the positive aspects of Christian ministry (apart from the conferences and such) and, of course, be closer to the instructions Jesus gave to his disciples: “You received without paying; give without pay” (Matthew 10:8). Not everyone who receives assistance will be able or even willing to pay (and that should not determine what kind of healing they get). Others who see the value in what takes place should find a way to support it, even if they themselves do not directly benefit.

Another big change is to put the healing choices back with those in need and the Spirit who empowers. As a follower of Jesus, my singleminded goal is to love. But too much of professional counseling rhetoric is determined by subtle euphemisms; all of us need more than a “higher level of functioning” or “measurable goals” to truly experience grace. We should be wary of such pronouncements. So how then can I learn from Jesus’ loving action if I’m determined to follow “best practices” or simply work from the list of problems approved in the DSM?

I should now make it clear that the ideal, as I see it, is not to motivate a therapist to start their own private practice where there is less oversight or pressure from without on things like billing or a diagnostic “golden thread.” Even an apparently benevolent start-up is still an organized effort and can just as easily turn into a power-over relationship that patronizes, cheapens, and threatens genuine Love. Again, the question to be asked is how can we practice a love that heals when our heads are counting billable time or lusting after “observable changes”?

So should Christian radicals become therapists? Sure, but of a whole different sort. We sometimes get it backwards. Jesus healed and performed miracles and overturned tables as God’s Son, though some asked, “Is not this Joseph’s son?” The world seems to only want what it can manage and name. Isn’t it time to quietly walk away from this crowd? To resist their sloppy temptations and say, “True healing does not come from our own hands, but is a free gift.”

A lot of what I’m experiencing now as a therapist feels really good. And I hope to continue proclaiming Jesus’ liberty for a long time. But don’t let me fool you into thinking that the path toward integrity and wholeness is easy. I’m not there yet, and it has challenged many of my dormant assumptions about efficacy and strength. Still, the main reason to start is still good. I want to be like Jesus, to do it like he did and continues to do today. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to remember the old Stuart Smalley refrain: “I’m good enough. I’m smart enough. And doggone it people like me.”

This excerpt is from a novel I’m reading called, Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson:

Nevertheless, I would advise you against defensiveness on principle. It precludes the best eventualities along with the worst. At the most basic level, it expresses a lack of faith. As I have said, the worst eventualities can have great value as experience. And often enough, when we think we are protecting ourselves, we are struggling against our rescuer. I know this, I have seen the truth of it with my own eyes, though I have not myself always managed to live by it, the Good Lord knows. I truly doubt I would know how to live by it for even a day, or an hour. That is a remarkable thing to consider. (p. 154)

God bless those who have what I have not.
Sometimes it hurts (to give) and it can
be hard (to go without).

But I want to release my anxiety (and your bonds too).
So I say, “God bless them!” To those who have
what I have not.

If you believe in their rules, hoarding all and defending
your stuff, people love those idols, until a way is found;
and probably it’s by theft.

If you refuse to play by their rules,
to simply give when it’s your right to have,
you can bet someone is writing that down.

Your children, for example, may scream and shout.
And as your laughter echos in the halls of serious people,
the sound of deep kindness bellows on.

But it’s a hollow sound to some. People need
their space, popularity, land, and cash.
Their carefully planned futures.

They will want to fight about that (including
the stuff you have). It’s so much easier to bless them.
“More power to those who have what I have not.”

Yes, power does give more than any human being
should have. Strangling, taking, imprisoning hearts.
But who can stop them once we’ve sacrificed so much?

Be at peace, my friends. I know how it feels to love and
be afraid; we seldom seem at rest. God has a way of bringing
us himself, to live in a fearless song.

Note: the title is taken from 2 Corinthians 9 and the quotation
further down is from Twenty-Four Hours a Day.

Continued from here…

This next story is not as dramatic-sounding as the first. Yet I think the two of them belong together. Fast forward now to April of 2009. My wife (Julissa), my son (Santiago), and I are visiting her family in Lima, Peru, like we try to do every year. We were especially excited to meet my sister-in-law’s new fiancé (from the US). Right from the beginning, he and I got along great, talking about all the unexpected ways our lives had changed since meeting this family of beautiful Peruvians and falling in love. I was trying to play the bridge-builder between him—since he does not speak Spanish—and the non-English speaking family members, especially Julissa’s oldest brother.

The fiancé had just begun a full-ride medical school scholarship through the Air Force. After general conversations between he and I about Christianity and following Jesus, he brought up some of his internal conflicts and reservations about entering a profession known for its wealth and privilege. Perhaps being in Lima put an interesting twist to our talks, since we both felt pretty comfortable right away to discuss a traditionally touchy subject. Peru’s capital city is one of the easy places in the world to see how unjust and violent it is for those with money to live within walking distance from the poor and, seemingly, to ignore their plight or simply succumb to the cynicism of it all.

As our conversations were wrapping up—in which I had done my best to represent myself as a “radical” follower of Jesus—he mentioned that he was inviting me to an impromptu, low-key bachelor party put on by his friends from Lima. He had met these guys while volunteering in their medical ministry during his missionary stint the previous year. They were apparently going to be providing an enticing party menu—poker, cigars, scotch whiskey, etc. So I said yes. I had wanted the momentum from that morning to keep going.

Almost immediately, I recognized an interior desire to be liked by my future brother-in-law and his successful missionary friends. But I tried to tell myself that I was only nervous because of my calling to be a prophetic challenge against colonial forms of Christianity. As we were getting ready to leave, Mark discreetly told me that he had forgotten something important. The party would be for English-speakers only, he said. What he didn’t know was that I had already invited Julissa’s oldest brother to come with us, thinking it would be a good way for us all to connect. I told him at that point that we should invite this brother along anyway, but he said no. He explained that his friends would be worried about rumors if someone from their church came since they would be drinking alcohol (a big taboo in Peruvian evangelical churches). Plus, he felt it would be frustrating to have to go back-and-forth in translation.

Sadly, in spite of my radical-sounding talk, I was startled by this new info and suddenly began to feel inadequate. If they could so quickly exclude my brother-in-law, would they find some reason to dismiss me? Earlier, I had thought it was a good move to meet the very people I had criticized from a distance all these years (having attended their wealthy megachurch many times), but now my feelings of opportunity and excitement were all gone. What came to me then was a simple mixture of anger, fear, and guilt because now I only wanted out of this situation without having to admit to my questions.

I went back and forth about it with my wife. She told me that her brother would understand; I tried to convince myself that I could be a radical “instigator” if I went. Well, her brother did understand why he was being “uninvited” and it wasn’t difficult to explain the reasons either. It was like he had known what was coming and was not even surprised enough to ask me why. His look of disappointment rang inside me the same way that Alex’s did more than ten years prior. Even after I left I couldn’t get him out of my head, especially as I road with them into their gated community and listened to one of them insult and laugh at the Peruvian security guard before being let in.

At the party I did my best to throw out sarcastic jabs about unsophisticated Americans, while, at the same time, hoping I didn’t draw too much attention onto my own false identity. Eventually I just felt awkward because of my own complicity and realized that sitting in silence felt almost worse than being rejected. Yes, I was given a place at their table, but it felt like a denial of my brothers and sisters in Peru. I could’ve done something about it, but in the end, I grit my teeth, smiled, and got dropped off after the party.

Back at the family’s apartment, after a few stark moments alone with my thoughts in the bathroom, I caught up with Julissa’s brother. I wanted to look him in the eye when I said it. So I squeezed his shoulder and blurted out an apology: “Perdoname, nunca lo haré mas.” His facial expression seemed a little confused and embarrassed. He may not have even interpreted the offense as seriously as I did, though his hesitancy to respond made me doubt that.

Why had I suddenly conformed to this white privilege in the first place? Hypocrisy was easier than I thought it would be, I’ll tell you that. In the end, my brother-in-law didn’t thank me for apologizing to him or tell me to think about what I had done. In fact, he just looked at me. And then he said: “No te preocupes, J” (Forget about it, J). And, without waiting for another answer, he took my shoulder in his hand, gently squeezed it and brought up another subject, as if nothing had ever happened.

Conclusion

I woke up early one morning thinking about these two particular events. God spoke to me in my restless mind about his forgiveness and their integration. Prior to that morning, I had not thought of these stories as being related at all. In fact, I had tried to forget about them. Now they seemed to form one whole memory, urging me to ask an age-old question: “Can I still be forgiven?” Even though I was wrong two times and, in both instances, my promises to never do it again came out somewhat unplanned and clumsily, the answer for me was (is) still a complete yes. And on most days I believe it.

I wish all of us who identify with being followers of Jesus (especially the radical kind) would examine our false-images and then confess them. Not that I can claim to have done that willingly myself. In fact, in all honesty, I resisted. Still, I’m learning to yield more quickly now and I want to continue on that path.