A Place at the Table, days 30-34

I knew that this week would be a hard one to blog, but I didn't expect myself to sit out the ENTIRE WEEK!  I haven't even read my assigned reading in "A Place at the Table."  There has just been too much going on.  And probably too many memories for me to try to unpack.  I suppose that there will be time for that in the future.

This week has been about transitions.  I spent several days clearing out my office and boxing up my books -- always a good exercise.  I have so many good books I need to read.  Then I spent a day or two going through the building making sure that I have all of my stuff.  It really is amazing how much stuff one can accumulate in 10 years of ministry at a place.  (Not that there are just a bunch of folks that work at the same church for that long, but there are a few of us.)  Wednesday night was the last worship practice with some of my favorite people in the world -- people that I have laughed with and cried with, screamed with and whispered to, argued with and agreed with, eaten with and misbehaved with (especially Aaron, Edwin & Dusty).  I spent the week interviewing at different places for employment.  My wife would really like for that aspect to line up quickly.  I also worked my newly-acquired t-shirt sales gig, chasing down shirts and jobs and designs.  (If any of you need a t-shirt made, look me up!)

So as I sit here in my blogging chair for the first time this week on the night before my last Sunday at Raintree, those memories are making it a little difficult to blog.  I'm afraid that if I started to try to put some memories down in this blog, I'd become a blubbering mess and not ever finish this blog.  You can't pour your heart into people for 10 years and NOT have stories -- both good and bad -- to tell.  Marriages saved and broken.  Kids rebelling and staying close to Christ.  Songs that were well received and, well . . . .  Memories.  I'd better stop before this gets too sappy.  Maybe I'll get sappy in a few weeks.

A Place at the Table, day 29

I have a feeling that for the next several posts, the thoughts will be more about life changes than about the fast.  Most of you who follow this blog know that I have made the decision to leave Raintree, the church that I have been at for over 10 years, to pursue church in a different fashion.  I'm sure that there will be many posts in the future about this new plan, but for today I want to focus a bit on the leaving.

My wife and I had a little tiff yesterday over my office.  You see, I am what's known as a "book whore." (It's my own term, but I love it, so I use it.)  Despite the fact that I already own hundreds that I haven't read, I am constantly buying books.  And all of those books have to be out of my office by Sunday -- thus the tiff.  My library is one of my favorite things.  I am a big believer that you can tell a lot about some one's passion for ministry and study based on the contents of their library.  I have books that I disagree with because they're too conservative, and books I disagree with because they're too liberal.  (I made a joke to myself yesterday in the midst of moving 17 boxes of books that the books from a liberal perspective are even lighter to carry!  I thought it was funny and had to share.)  I have a few books that were from my grandfather's library, and a ton of books that were from my dad's library (talk about a heritage!).

Every time that I move my books (and I try to do this as infrequently as possible), I am reminded of how much I love my library.  When I handle certain books, I am reminded of the impact they have had on me.  Books like "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning, "Velvet Elvis" by Rob Bell, "A Celebration of Discipline" by Richard Foster, "Desire of the Everlasting Hills" and "The Gifts of the Jews" by Thomas Cahill, "SoulTsunami" by Leonard Sweet, "The Tangible Kingdom" by Hugh Halter & Matt Smay, and "The Forgotten Ways" and "Untamed" by Alan Hirsch bring back all sorts of memories of where I was in my walk with Jesus when I read them.  Sometimes those memories are filled with longing for a more simple approach, but mostly those memories are filled with happiness over where I am now in the journey -- often BECAUSE of the content of those books.

Books contain information and information can lead us to knowledge and wisdom and transformation.  Whenever I find myself in a funk in my relationship with Jesus, you can probably trace it back to the fact that I'm not reading.  This fast that has literally transformed the way I think is the result of reading a book -- A Place at the Table, by Chris Seay, in case you're new to this blog.

As I loaded up almost all of my library (17 boxes last night -- not sure where they'll all fit in my "home office"), it hit me that a love for reading is one of the most important things that I will hand down to my kids.  I have a 10-year-old daughter that consumed the entire Percy Jackson & the Olympians series in about three weeks.  I have an 8-year-old that is constantly reading Wimpy Kid or Dork Diaries or her American Girl magazine.  And I have a 4-year-old who "reads" Chronicles of Narnia picture books all the way to school (while rocking out to the David Crowder* Band, no less.)  She also refuses to go potty at home without a book in hand.  (That reminds me of a Seinfeld plot line . . .)  This will be an important part of the legacy that I leave to my children and grandchildren.  I might not do everything right with them, but I feel like the love that both Wendy and I have for reading is being passed down in a healthy and life-changing way.

Maybe you're struggling with life right now and you're not sure how to pull out of it.  It won't solve everything, but might I suggest trying to better yourself by reading a good book?  If you haven't read "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Manning, that'd be a great place to start, a great reminder of the grace and love of Jesus.  Some others that come to mind are "Permission to Speak Freely" by Anne Jackson, "Blue Like Jazz" and "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" by Donald Miller, or "Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt" by Anne Rice.

What books have spoken to you?  What books have YOU read that I need to read?  I'd love to hear your suggestions!

A Place at the Table, feast day 4

As I have mentioned before, I expected this fast thing to be second nature by this point in the process.  I figured after a couple of weeks, this thing would be old hat.  Well, that has certainly NOT been the case.  Even though we have only two weeks (12 days) left of this thing, it seems like we'll never get through this. But one thing that I think I've gotten REALLY good at is the art of the feast day.

You could probably call it the pig-out day.  I have turned cramming as much food as possible into a day into an art form.  Yesterday we were up painting the big girls' room, and I just happened to hit a stopping point right at midnight.  So I stopped.  And ate a reprise of what the girls had for dinner.  Well, since it is my custom to go up to church on Saturday night to make sure all my ducks are in a row, I did that for a couple of hours.  Then, when I came home to so to bed, I loaded some Cinnamon Toast Crunch in a bowl of milk (dang, I miss cereal!) and headed to bed happy and full.

Since I've never been a big breakfast guy, the caramel macchiato from Starbucks was sufficient for me to get going after a few hours of sleep.  Church was its usual rocking and sweaty mess, then I kicked the afternoon off with a bacon cheeseburger from McDonald's.  Not my favorite choice of restaurants, but since Tinsley gave up McDonald's for lent and since she's really figuring out this feast day thing with us, I want to reinforce that in her.  Plus, we had a softball opening ceremony that we had to run to after church, so we needed something quick!

The evening consisted of our group reading four chapters of Mark on location, followed by an all-meat pizza at One Guy from Italy.  We feasted and laughed and told stories and dreamed and planned and feasted.  Have I mentioned that we feasted?  I love the community of people that God has placed in my life.  It is a blessing to fast and feast with them.

I can't imagine what the immediate future holds for our group, but I don't think I've ever been quite so excited about church as I am right now.  It is a scary exciting time for our family, and I can't wait to see where this leads.

A Place at the Table, day 26, 27, & 28

I'm not gonna lie.  I've been having a little bit too much fun in the last few days to keep up with the blog.  We've been hanging out with friends and shuttling girls to ballet and softball and painting rooms of our house.  It has been a busy couple of days, for sure.  But this blog has become important to me (and to other people, I am finding), so I thought it would be best to get caught up.

Thursday (day 26) was a day of work and homework (the girls, not me) and ballet and softball.  We shuttled the kids around a bunch and then tried to settle them in to the routine that they have at our house.  Thursdays are usually tough days for the older girls, as their bodies have a hard time adjusting to life at our house.  But we fought through it and had a good night.

Saturday (day 28) was christened by wife wife as a work day around the house.  Not my favorite thing to do.  But there was a lot of weed eating and painting and hanging and laundry done on that day.  Wendy's going to try and implement one of those types of days every month.  Lucky for me, April is full of Easter and weddings and general busyness, so it might be May before we see one of those days again!

But Friday (day 27) is what I want to focus on for just a few moments.  We have a friend couple that we share an anniversary with (the date, not the year).  Four small groups ago we were in a small group with them and made a plan to go out for our anniversaries.  Well, life happened, and probably three years later we still hadn't gone out with them.  Their kids keep them busy and our lives are usually hectic, so nothing had happened.  We finally made that long-standing appointment a reality this week.  We went out and hung out at Texas Roadhouse and had an absolute blast!

Before I get into the content of our conversation, let me take a second to brag on myself.  At Texas Roadhouse, I ordered my first vegetable plate.  Now, if you know me very well, you know what an accomplishment that is for me.  Vegetables and I are barely on speaking terms.  But the fact that I ordered the vegetable place (at a steak joint) is not what I want to brag about.  I ordered a vegetable plate WITHOUT ANY VEGETABLES!!!  Yes!  My four "veggies" were a baked potato, mashed potatoes, steak fries, and rice!  All on the vegetable plate option list; none of them veggies.  Yay, me!

Anyway, I was amazed at how quickly we stepped back into life with this couple.  We had hardly seen each other in two years, yet we sat at that booth and laughed and talked for hours.  We caught up on what was going on with our kids and what was going on with work.  We laughed about our mistakes as parents and as human beings and we generally had a grand time.

We talked a lot about church.  This couple hasn't really found a church home since leaving their church.  They have wanted to allow their kids to find a place they liked and then make that place work for them, but it hasn't happened -- at least not for them.  And it reinforced for me just how important community is for all of us, but especially adults.  When we were in small groups and would do gender breakouts, this guy would amaze me with his honesty, transparency, and willingness to be the man God wanted him to be.  I was constantly challenged by this guy to be a better dad and husband and man.  I don't think he intended to challenge me in this way; it just happened.  And I wonder how many other guys have been deprived of that blessing because of the life circumstances that forced them out of meaningful community with others.  I wish things had gone differently and others could have received that blessing.

But this is where we find ourselves and so I am left with a choice.  Will I see this as a great opportunity to catch up with some old friends?  Or will I see this as an opportunity to reconnect with people that need my community as much as I need theirs?  I hope I choose correctly.

A Place at the Table, day 25

The conversations of the past week have been enlightening.  My wife is convinced that once I can focus all of my attention on this new movement, I'll have more answers.  I hope she's right, because it sure seems like my answer to every other question these days is, "I don't know."  What are you going to do?  I don't know.  How is this going to look? I don't know.  When can this become an inclusive gathering that welcomes all people?  I don't know.  What are the Cubs World Series chances?  Slim.  And none.  But mostly none.  What does discipleship look like?  I don't know.

It's that last question that I have been wrestling with the most these days.  If I see this little movement as a missional, disciple-making movement, what does that mean?  And how do we get there?  While I certainly don't have the answers, I do have some thoughts.  So I'll share.

I have come to realize that discipleship is an intimately personal endeavor.  So to try and "program" discipleship is quite a misnomer, at least insofar as we try to have a one-size-fits-all approach.  What discipleship looks like to this friend might not be discipleship to the next one.  While there are certainly some overarching principles, one size does not fit all.

And I think that one of the aspects of discipleship that the church has sorely missed is the notion of discipline.  There has been within the church recently (especially within the "emergent" church) a desire to recapture what has been termed the "spiritual disciplines."  Things like fasting and meditation and lectio divina and silence and examen.  These are things that, for the most part, the church has ignored.  I could devote multiple posts to the reasons why we find ourselves in this place, but that's another blog for another time.

But I'm pretty sure that you can't have disciples without discipline.  I know that should seem obvious, especially in the English language, but sometimes we miss the most obvious things because they're, well, too obvious.  As my friend says, "If only there were some clue . . ."  More than anything else, this is what the fast has taught me.  Discipline is a non-negotiable part of discipleship.  The last thing I want to do while making my daughters' lunches in the morning is stick to my beans/rice/potato/bread diet.  I would SO love to lick the peanut butter knife or eat one of those apples.  But I have made a commitment to this discipline, and so I am sticking with it.

My dream for this little community of friends/believers/journeyers is that we would continue to hold one another accountable to some form of discipline.  We're (hopefully) going to follow this 40-day fasting experience with a 40-day experience with reading the Scriptures.  And then maybe a 40-day journey with journaling.  Then maybe 40 days of prayer.  I just can't escape this notion that disciples have discipline.

And the ways that discipleship shows up in the midst of these disciplines is sometimes unexpected.  One family in our group has re-engaged one another in conversations about going on the mission field in a foreign land.  They didn't set out in this fast to find life direction, but it is happening as a byproduct of discipleship.  Another family is re-examining finances and seeing how much exactly they need to live on so that they can give the rest away.  The fast was never designed to mess with personal finances.  Still another family is wrestling with what it means to be a community that "does no harm" in the things that we purchase and where we purchase them from.  Again, this was never a focus of this fast.

But when we go a little deeper than the surface, we find that there is much to be pondered, explored, and discussed.  Many of our deepest wishes and desires show up when we're willing to get beneath the surface.  This is what happens when disciples of Jesus rediscover the importance of discipline.

A Place at the Table, day 24

I really DID sum up a lot of days in yesterday's post!  One feast day and four fast days!  Hard to believe that I'm now almost 5/8 of the way through this thing.  And as much as I like to "gripe" (and I DO like to "gripe") it really has been a pretty fascinating experience.

I had some good conversations today with some good friends and I began to realize something.  Eating is for me an incredibly social event.  I do everything in my power to NOT eat alone.  I've got a couple of friends (you know who you are, Drew & Delux) that I kind of have on permanent standby for when I'm facing the prospect of eating alone.  And when that doesn't work out, I usually go home for lunch and eat as quickly as possible so that I don't have to spend much time eating alone.

But this fast has changed that for me.  I suppose it's my fear of rejection that someone might comment on the oddness of my eating only potatoes, beans & rice -- even though I have eaten with multiple people while on this fast and once I have explained what I am doing, they don't look at me all that strangely.  But this fast has really shut down my socializing around meals.  I have greatly limited my social eating, especially with those who are not participating in the fast with me.

But I have kinda decided that I'm done with that.  So I had lunch with a good friend yesterday.  And coffee with a good friend today.  And dinner with three good friends tonight.  And I loved it!  My coffee appointment (which might be the focus of my blog tomorrow) was invigorating!  Despite my continuing disdain for black coffee (see, there I go "griping" again!), we had some pretty earth-shattering conversations about where this little movement goes from here.  We dreamed some dreams, had some laughs, and generally enjoyed our time together -- at least I did!

Which reminded me that this fast is about so much more than food.  It is about me truly coming to grips with reality.  It's about realizing how important community is and what it really looks like.  It's about digging deeper than every day surface conversation to figure out what God is really doing among us.  It's about connecting with Jesus on levels that can't be reached without self-discipline and a teench of sacrifice.  It's about practicing a spiritual discipline that changes you in ways that you never even knew you needed to be changed.  It's about kingdom.  Breaking out.  Within.  And without.  Like Jesus said it could.  Like Jesus said it should.  Like Jesus said it would.

A Place at the Table, catching up

The discipline of daily blogging has been very beneficial for me.  Having to spend 30-45 minutes each day to reflect and process the day is a discipline that would probably benefit all of us.  So it has been an unhealthy digression for me personally to have gone this long without blogging.

But I have found in my "blogging vacation" that the community of those following these thoughts is more vast than I imagined.  In the last two days I have had conversations with people that I barely know and people that I know well yet live far away who have continued following this communal journey.  So to those of you who are following this blog, thank you for your kind words and for the accountability that you offer me simply by reading this.

Our little group gathered together as a community on Sunday night for the first time in two weeks.  We spent a lot of time complaining about this dang fast.  Where I thought this diet would get easier as the 40 days went along, it looks like the farther into this we get, the more difficult it becomes.  Now, that would make a lot more sense if it were a true no-eating fast.  But I didn't quite understand why it has turned more difficult on the fast we're on.  It's not like we're hungry; for the most part, we're just bored with eating the same thing every meal.  But it has become more difficult for all of us.

But one of our friends nailed it in our conversation.  Because we had gone a Sunday without meeting, we hadn't had our weekly opportunity to "gripe" (not the word he used).  And we have come to rely on this gathering to feel legitimate community.  We need to know that people understand what it is that we are going through.  We need to know that we are not alone in this struggle.

And that's one of the primary things that the church has lost.  We went so long trying to work out a theology of "personal salvation" that we forgot the importance of community.  And then when we rediscovered community, we thought that we could program it.  We tried small groups and ministry teams and support groups and the list goes on and on.  But community happens when we do life together, not when we try to make it happen.  Accountability happens when we truly care for one another, not when we plan a 6am coffee every other week.  Vulnerability is what happens when deep trust is established over time, not when the church tells us we should trust somebody because other people have trusted them.

Community is hard.  And time-consuming.  And painful.  And unlike anything else this world offers.  And those who have experienced it will never settle for the programmatic version.

A Place at the Table, day 19

Aside from the less-than-desirable food limitations, this trip to Illinois has been a blast.  We have reconnected with family and friends, some of whom I haven't seen in years.  It has been great.

Yesterday we connected with Brian and Tina, my best friends from my first ministry in LeRoy, IL.  Brian and Tina were my best resource in that youth ministry, as they live out in the country and have all kinds of animals.  We were reminiscing about the time we used their indoor riding area as the boundary for a ghetto laser tag game where we Velcroed alka-seltzer tablets to our chests and went wild with water guns.  We also hid like 100 pennies in the dirt of the stable and gave the kids kitty litter scoops to try and find the pennies.  Tina reminded me that most of the kids chose to use their hands instead, not really thinking through what the dirt in a riding stable might contain.  We also turned their pasture into a 9-hole putt-putt course, which was a hoot as well.

Even though I hadn't seen Brian and Tina since Grace was 1-1/2 years old (meaning that none of my other girls had met them), we picked up right where we left off, laughing and joking and telling stories.  The girls got to ride a horse (which was awesome), pet a cancerous donkey named Abraham (there's a story there, too), and ride a four-wheeler (through the mud, which splattered a little bit).  It made me smile to hear their cheer as they arrived back at the house from the four-wheeler excursion.  "Auntie Teen-Teen!  Auntie Teen-Teen!"  What a memorable day!

But what struck me was the conversation that the adults had while the kids were in the basement making a mess.  We talked about some of our common frustrations with how the church is.  We filled them in on some of our plans and dreams.  We heard about what God has been doing in their lives.  It seems that a couple of trips to Uganda have changed how they view the world.  Their hope is that they will move to Uganda on a more permanent basis to run a clinic for the people there.  They are questioning their own legacy and realizing that maybe, just maybe, God is calling them to something really risky and life-changing.  Something that might really represent kingdom breaking out among us.

And I am amazed at the changes that God is orchestrating among us.  It seems that everyone that I come into contact with on this jaunt is being led in a direction that involves more risk, less stability, and real world change.  It makes me smile to see what God is up to.  Maybe He really is up to something that is immeasurably more than we could ever have imagined.  I can't wait.

A Place at the Table, day 18

Life circumstances can be tough, especially when they play out in a way that was well outside of your control.  I just had a conversation about a friend who is going through it right now.  It's tough to watch someone's life crumble around them, of no fault of their own.

Yesterday we hung out with my brother and sister-in-law, who are expecting at the end of April.  We had quite a few conversations about our kids and the difficulties that go along with being from broken homes.  They get to see his daughters even less often than we have the girls, so it made me appreciate our dysfunction a little more.

I'm sitting here watching my girls make a stew/potion in the back yard of my folks house and aching that they won't get to experience these things on a daily basis.  My brothers and I grew up in this town of 450 (or 500, depending on which way you come into town) and had full reign of the town.  We'd ride our bikes all over the town, hang out with any number of people and just generally run wherever we wanted to.  Now I know that was a different time with different "rules," but there are so many things that my girls won't get to experience because of the circumstances of life that were and are way outside of their control.  And my heart aches for them.

But one of the lessons that I learned in the fateful summer of 2004 is that very little about life is really within our control.  Control is one of those illusions that we like to think we have so that we imagine that we are much more powerful than we actually are.  This fast has re-taught me that lesson.  So many of the "blessings" that our family has have nothing to do with anything except the place and time in which we were born.  We were all born in America, with plenty of money, food, and resources to be able to be provided for.  We were born into families that are able to not just provide for our daily needs but make it possible to get an education that goes well beyond basic education.  My girls have more money in their college funds than many children will see in their entire lives.

But I would bet you that we stress more about things like bills and responsibilities and the ability to provide for our loved ones than about any society in world history.  Because control is an illusion.  It reminds me of some words of a friend of mine.  "Consider the birds of the air.  They neither plant nor harvest nor store in barns, but your Father in the heavens feeds them.  Or look at the lilies in the field.  They don't work or sew.  And yet even Solomon in all his splendor looked like a pauper compared tho these.  If that's how God takes care of the flowers (and the birds) won't he take much better care of you? So don't worry about the things outside of your control.  Seek first the kingdom of God and his plan of restorative justice and all these other things will be taken care of as well."  If we were to learn no other lesson from this fast than this one thing, it would be hunger well spent.

A Place at the Table, day 17

The traveling part of this fast is wearing on me, especially since I'm back in my "homeland."  There are so many restaurants that I would love to sit in and enjoy their food for the first time in months, but the beans and rice and potatoes are limiting, at best.

Yesterday was a great example.  There's a burger joint up here named Culver's that is a favorite of the Drakes.  The problem for my Compassion diet is that burger joints typically don't have much variety in the beans/rice/potatoes realm.  So while my family got after some butterburgers, I was relegated to mashed potatoes and French fries.  Not exactly the stuff that you write home about.

And then for dinner, we met some good friends and were at a loss for where to go.  We finally decided on Logan's Roadhouse, where I settled into a plate of rice pilaf (what exactly is "pilaf" again?) and a baked potato (and all of the Logan's bread that I could eat).  We had a great conversation about life and ministry and family.  We laughed and re-connected and it was (again) a sacred moment.

After dinner we retreated to the Craig house for some more conversation while our kiddos ran around the house like crazy people.  Their little boy, Kaden, is about as cute as they come.  Joel and Kristy went through quite the ordeal to adopt him from Congo and he is worth every hour that they spent waiting for him.  They told us about some of the changes that are about to happen in their family.  It seems that the whole experience in Kenya has opened up new worlds to them.  They are in the process of adopting two more kids, sisters ages 3-1/2 & almost 2.  They will go from a family of two and a dog (named Wrigley!!) to a family of five with three kids between ages 2 & 4.

I have known Joel since my first day at Lincoln Christian College.  We made a connection that first day when we found out that his dad had sung in my parents' wedding.  Dan Craig and Mike Drake went way back, and Joel & I (and his brother, Jason) will go way back, too.  Joel and I played basketball and baseball together in college, lived on the same floor, did lots of ministry together.  He's one of those guys that I could call tomorrow and he would drop everything to do what I needed done.  He is truly a brother.

I was so proud of the changes that he has brought about in the world.  He's done ministry at a megachurch in Bloomington/Normal for over 13 years, loving on junior highers and their families.  And I know that lives have been greatly affected by his life and ministry.  But I couldn't help but think that the influence that he and Kristy will have by their willingness to take in these three kids (and possibly more) will greatly outweigh all that they have done in paid ministry.  Listening to his heart and Kristy's heart about this adoption agency in Congo inspired me in so many ways.  I was in the midst of kingdom breaking out in a way that amazed me.  Kaden and Karis and Karolina will have amazing lives because of the willingness of these two Christ-followers to be used.  Awesome!

Will you take a moment to pray for my friends?  Kristy leaves in three weeks for Congo and will be there alone dealing with all of the red tape that goes along with these adoptions.  Joel will be in Illinois, worrying about his wife and daughters.  And the girls have some health issues to go along with the inevitable emotional issues that come with the changes that they're about to experience.  So utter a quick prayer, if you would, for my friends Joel & Kristy and their sweet family as they do their small part to live out the prayer of the kingdom coming on earth as it is in the heavens.

A Place at the Table, feast day 3

Judging from the complete lack of response to my last post, I am guessing that even those of you who follow this blog turned away in disgust at how quickly it digressed.  So, I suppose that it is now my responsibility to win you back with my wit and charm and deep reflection.  Here goes . . .

I moved away from home eleven years ago.  Some times when people make a move away from home, they do it gradually so that they can continue to get home if and when they get a little homesick.  That wasn't me.  I moved from central Illinois to an island off the coast of Massachusetts and have never really been back.  Life circumstances find me in Lubbock for the foreseeable future, so it's doubtful that we'll call the flatlands of central Illinois "home" any time soon.

But family is very important to me.  That wasn't always the case.  Despite growing up in a close extended family (dad has 423 siblings, and we got together with most of them at least once a year when I was growing up), I decided that I wouldn't need family once I grew up.  Now that I'm grown up (relative term, I know), I long for those relational connections.   My dad calls me most every week on Sunday night to check up on me, but a phone call can never replace a face-to-face.  My folks have made the trek to Lubbock a few times, but the rest of the family has yet to make that long haul.  So it's up to the Texas Drakes to drive/fly to central Illinois to keep that relational connection.

The first couple of times we made the trek to Illinois, I wondered if it was really worth it.  If you've ever traveled with kids under 6, you know that two-day drives that involve a hotel stay are rarely much fun.  But then, once we're in Illinois and see how valuable the time is for our girls to have relationships with their cousins, we realize that the inconveniences of a two-day drive are far outweighed by cousins who know one another in a face-to-face sort of way.

Yesterday ended with those relationships being strengthened.  Rather than stop in the hamlet of Elkhart (where my parents live), we continued driving to the little town of Lacon, IL, where my brother and sister-in-law and four nephews live.  It made sense, especially since my parents were up at J's house for Olson's baptism.  It was a feast day for me, which was a good thing.  We found ourselves at Monical's Pizza (not an accident, by the way) in Chillicothe, IL, to feast like it was 1999.  Monical's is already a personal favorite, but when it is a feast day, it tastes that much better.  I absolutely savored every bite.

And I loved the conversation as well.  We talked about faith and church.  We talked about family and illness.  We talked about family.  We laughed.  We argued.  The cousins sat at a different table and ate very little but had the time of their lives.  It was a sacred moment, and the fact that I am in the midst of this fast made me realize it in a powerful way.  I sat around a table with family and Christ-followers ages 16 through 63 and enjoyed good food and good conversation and great community with people that I see once a year, at best.  It was tangibly sacred.

Which got me thinking about the nature of church and the nature of family.  We've created a little family in Lubbock through our interactions with the people of Raintree.  Do I value those sacred moments as much as I valued this one?  Truth be told, despite the love I have for my family, I missed my Lubbock family on Sunday night.  I missed feasting with them and telling stories about how much we are learning together through this fast.  That tells me that the community that we are forming is becoming family and is transforming me into the image of Christ.

And part of that transformation is in realizing what it is that God has placed before us.  If you are blessed to live close to your family, don't take that for granted.  Tell your parents "thanks" when they come to your kids sporting events.  Let that sibling know that you love them and are grateful to be doing life with them.  Spend as much time as you can with your family.

And for those of us who don't have the blessing of family close, look at who have become your family.  Praise God for them and cherish them like you would your own brothers and sisters.  Because, if the Scriptures are to be believed, that's exactly what they are.

A Place at the Table, day 16

My wife is not very spontaneous.  Her idea of a perfect life is one that is planned out with very few surprises.  So when she decided yesterday that she wanted to take off today and head to Illinois on a whim, I was surprised and excited.  We loaded up this morning (all five of us) and began the trek north to family, telling the girls that we were on a mystery trip.  Only when we hit the turnpike in Oklahoma (new slogan idea for Oklahoma -- "Oklahoma, the state people pay to drive THROUGH!") did they figure out where we were headed.  They will be sitting at a table with cousins tomorrow, loving life.

I decided that the worst part of the fast for me is traveling while fasting.  One of my favorite parts about traveling is eating at places you normally don't get to frequent.  Normally, a trip to Illinois would have included at least one Steak n Shake stop by now.  However, we did Taco Villa and Cracker Barrel.  And from our experience at Taco Villa in Amarillo, it would appear that the Taco Villas in Lubbock have evolved.  No rice at a Taco Villa? Unbelievable, especially when that's one of three things you get to eat!  And my Cracker Barrel plate of rice, mashed potatoes and steak fries was among the most pathetic I've seen, especially when chicken & dumplings and chicken fried chicken are options.  (Side note -- the rice was phenomenal.  I had to order their 'chicken and rice" Saturday special without the chicken.  I bet the cooks had a good laugh at my expense.)

Tomorrow will be a great day.  We'll laugh with relatives and feast, probably at Culver's and Monical's Pizza.  (For those of you readers who are not from the Midwest, Monical's is a "must visit" pizza place!  Find them online, figure out where the closest pizza place is to where you're going, and plan a trip around it.  Seriously, it's THAT good.)  I will see my folks for the first time since Thanksgiving, and my brothers, sisters-in-law, and nephews for the first time since last summer.  There will be great laughter and feasting.  Authors will write books about it!  Descriptive words will fail to capture the epic nature of the feasting!  Many pizzas will be consumed!  Inappropriate jokes will be told (probably mostly by me)!  Clocks will be set forward one hour (don't forget)!  Peanut butter cups will be eaten at midnight (or 11pm, since we lose the hour during a feast day, which is SO WRONG!!)!  Blogs will be written that will quickly digress into long pointless series of exclamations!

And people will shake their heads and say, "See! I knew that Drake boy couldn't be serious for two whole weeks!"  And I will agree.  And think, "These people know me.  Did they REALLY expect me to last this long?"  And I will nod off to sleep knowing that my true colors have finally shown.  And I will wake up tomorrow and, if I weren't on the road all day, read this blog, realize that I started every sentence in the last paragraph with the word "And." And I will delete this blog post.  And it will go down in the conspiracy theorist lore as "A Place at the Table, day 16: the blog that revealed the truth about the Shroud of Turin." And you will never get the chance to read this.  And I will laugh as I delete this post.

And there goes the idea of turning this experience into a book someday. . .

A Place at the Table, days 14 & 15

I have become a big fan of Margaret Feinberg.  I came to "meet" her through her connection with Ecclesia Houston, my favorite church in the world that I have never worked at.  Maybe my favorite church in the world that I have ever been to.  Anyway, I have been following her on Twitter for a couple of weeks now, and she has become one of my favorites to quote and retweet.  I hope someday soon to read one or more of her books (The Organic God, The Sacred Echo, Scouting the Divine, etc.), but for now her tweets are about all that I can handle.

She comes across twitter with what she calls a "Morning Chutzpah" where she shares some wisdom from Hebrew sources (I assume from the name.  The chutzpah part, at least.)  It was one of these quotes -- "The past for wisdom, the present for action, but for joy the future." by Disraeli -- that brought structure and clarity to my sermon last week.  If you've ever had a lot to say but no idea how to structure it, you understand how wonderful a guiding thought can be!

I was reminded of Margaret this afternoon.  Her morning chutzpah from two days ago was a proverb -- "Man proposes, and God laughs."  Learned that lesson again today.  For about 4 years, we have talked about going to Angel Fire, NM, so that my girls could learn how to ski from one of my favorite people in the world, Pat "Pappy" Harris.  Pappy made that promise to my girls at camp a few years ago, and my daughters refuse to allow Pappy to renege.  So we made plans this Spring Break to head north to New Mexico for some relaxation, skiing, and friends.

Well, Pappy called today (we were leaving tomorrow) and told us that it was a disaster -- sick people, lodging falling through, etc.  So, we are not going to New Mexico to ski over Spring Break.  But, since my wife had all of the girls packed for a colder climate, we will head north to see family tomorrow.  I think the girls will be all right with that.  They'd better be.

As I launch out in a new endeavor ministerially, I can't help but remember this quote.  "Man proposes, and God laughs."  It reminds me to never take my plans too seriously.  It reminds me that "I don't know" is often the right answer.  And it reminds me that I should probably spend a whole lot more time praying than I do proposing.  Unless I want to keep God laughing.  Which I'll probably end up doing anyway.

A Place at the Table, day 13

What do we do with the brokenness of the world?  It has become so broken that most of us assume that it is irreparable.  I think that's one of the primary reasons that the church withdraws inside its four walls.  The darkness seems so dark and the world seems so unredeemable that we just hunker down and do our best to protect ourselves and our kids and our friends.  That's why we have created an entire Christian subculture that makes it almost unnecessary to even deal with the world.  We can send our kids to private Christian schools and listen to only Christian music while driving them to those Christian schools.  We can have our Christian athletic leagues to work out our bodies while our kids are in Christian after-school care.  I'm waiting for somebody to develop a Christian automobile so that we won't have to pour our hard-earned Christian dollars into some heathen's pockets.  But that rant is another blog for another day.

Back to my original question about brokenness.  Sometimes I wonder if we aren't just repeating Biblical stories -- except in this case we're not the heroes that we like to portray ourselves as.  I am reminded of the story of the twelve spies who checked out the Promised Land for the Israelites.  You might remember the song: "Twelve men went to spy on Canaan; ten were bad and two were good.  What did they see when they spied on Canaan?  Ten were bad and two were good.  Some saw giants big and tall; some saw grapes and clusters fa-a-all; some saw God rules over all.  Ten were bad and two were good."  While you might not know the song (it has cool actions, too, that I'll show you if you ask!), you probably know the story.  But what does that have to do with us?

Everything.  We find ourselves at a crossroads.  Too many of us are busy playing the role of the ten bad guys.  We look out over the world and we see how jacked up everything is and we decide that the darkness is more powerful than the light.  We decide that evil has won and will continue to win.  And we forget the redemption of Jesus and that fact that "God rules over all."  We forget that the image used by Paul for this crazy little thing called church is "the body of Christ."  WE are to be the redemption of the world.  WE are to shine light into darkness and realize that that darkness will never be able to overcome light (John 1).  But what does that look like?

We would love for it to be a big thing.  We're always better at big things than we are at little things.  A good example of a big thing is this Stop Kony campaign spearheaded by Invisible Children.  If you haven't heard about it, go search it online.  It's everywhere!  It is a big thing.  I know that there are other big things out there that we could do.  But what if the redemption of the world was in the small details?  Things like only buying and drinking fair trade coffee.  Things like replacing all of our light bulbs with high-efficiency light bulbs.  Things like composting instead of throwing away.  Things like giving Living Water International gift cards for birthdays instead of cash.  Things like spending $35-$50 per month on a Compassion child.  Things like volunteering with your local food bank.

The problem with little things is that we rarely see the "fruit" of that.  The things that I mentioned don't help you to show up on the front page of the paper.  They don't cause people to blog about you.  They don't bring recognition to your family.  But they are small, tangible affirmations that we do, indeed, still believe that God is ruling over all.  That Jesus really meant that he was making all things new.  That creation is going somewhere.  That light wins.  Every time.  Every.  Time.

A Place at the Table, day 12

A couple of our friends came over for dinner last night.  The fact that Wendy & I made my favorite dish (chicken macaroni casserole) didn't help with those struggles that I talked about yesterday.  That pasta looked so good!  Anyway, I'm finding that this Compassion diet is more of a nuisance than I would have imagined.  Our friends were over and ready to eat and I realized that I hadn't made anything for myself!  Praise Jesus for minute rice!  I had corn tortillas and white rice in an instant!

Before I go into the story, I need to tell you a little bit about our friends.  They are a relatively recently-married couple (2 years?) who have just moved to Lubbock.  She is a Lubbock native who has traveled to such exotic places as China and Israel as a missionary.  She is a tall blonde, so you can imagine that she kinda stuck out like a sore thumb in those places.  (Is there a better analogy for "sticking out" than the whole "sore thumb" thing?  I really have no idea what that means, but I use it all the time.  If anyone can help me find a better simile, you'll get a free copy of the book I write.  If I ever write one.)  Her husband is a Syrian refugee whom she met on the island of Cyprus.  He fled Syria as a younger man because of the political situation there.  He spent some time in political prison before fleeing the country.  He became a Christ follower while staying with a Christian family in Cyprus.

They are quickly becoming some of our family's favorite people -- especially for Tinsley and Scrappy.  (Our four-year-old and our dog, for those of you who are reading this blog but have never met us.)  And since the adjustment to Lubbock is a difficult one for them, we really want them to know that they have friends here.  So we try to hang out with them as much as possible.

Last night's dinner conversation began by talking about one of his friends whose family was taken captive by the government of Syria.  He found out about it a few days ago and then found out yesterday that, while the rest of the family was released, they kept the friend in custody.  This friend (let's call him Rahm) has been in prison before and was told that, if he were captured again, it would probably not end well.  That's why I'm a little paranoid about using his real name.  Not that international agents read my blog, but no sense in taking the chance.  Anyway, we prayed for Rahm and his family, and I would love it if you would stop here and say a prayer for them as well.  And then go and research the political situation in Syria so your international prayers will be better informed.  Go ahead and do that now.  This blog will still be here when you get done.

There's a lot more that I want to say about our conversation yesterday -- frustrations with the church, with how people treat one another, etc. -- that are fascinating.  It is always enlightening when someone from another culture/country moves in the neighborhood and you begin to see your culture through their eyes.  It's not always good.  But I want to reflect for a moment on how my eyes are constantly being opened by what God is doing here among & inside me.  Through this A Place at the Table fast, I have become sensitive to the plight of hungry people across the globe.  Through Living Water International, I have become attuned to the reality that clean water should be a right of every world citizen and that it IS the church's calling to make this a reality. (Maybe the verse should say, "If anyone gives even a cup of clean water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward." [Matt.10:42])  And through this friendship, I am putting a face to the reality that people are being imprisoned, tortured, and killed because they do not agree with the man in power.  And if I claim to be a God-follower who truly believes that Jesus is making ALL THINGS new, then these are not just political issues.  They are spiritual issues.  And my willingness to have my eyes opened to the plight of the oppressed DEMANDS that I do something about it.  And that you do something about it, too.

A Place at the Table, day 11

I don't know why I think this, but I have a bad feeling that this week's going to be the toughest yet for those of us fasting.  Maybe it's because the week got off to such a rough start.  Feast day was not terribly kind to a portion of our group.  One of our guys had a not-so-fun reaction to the reintroduction of fat into his diet (translation -- feast day = sick day), while one of the gals had to go to the doctor, where she was chastised for trying to do this kind of thing while dealing with an autoimmune disease.  And that was just Sunday and Monday.

I have just had this sense that, unlike my first week-and-a-half where my body has responded well, my body's about to be not very happy with me.  But maybe that's a cop out.  Maybe what it really comes down to is that my self-control is beginning to wane.  The chocolate that is sitting in the bowl on the counter is much more tempting this week than it has been in the past.  (I know.  If I moved the bowl out of sight, it wouldn't be a temptation.  But where's the challenge in that?)  Dinner with the fam yesterday was spaghetti and garlic bread, and those things looked significantly more enjoyable than my potatoes and tortillas.  Every time that I open the fridge to make a lunch for the girls, I see that cheese that looks phenomenal.  (I WAS born in Wisconsin, after all.  Cheese is a birthright!)  Even though my friend Jeremy covered his chicken bowl from Chipotle in nasty veggies at lunch, it STILL looked better than my brown rice.

Or maybe I'm just afraid that this is the week that the fast gets really personal.  I've learned a lot about world hunger and thirst, the plight of the poor and needy, and how good the simple things can be on this fast.  And those are great lessons for me to learn.  But what happens when the lessons that I begin to be taught are lessons of purging the darkness from my own heart -- the greed and the lust, the unforgiveness and the judgment, the bigotry and the hypocrisy?  Am I really ready to deal with all of that crap?  I have a feeling that it's coming to the surface, whether I'm ready or not.

But I can't decide what my biggest fear is.  Am I afraid for this to come to the surface because you might see it, and if you happen to see it, you might like me less?  Am I afraid that when this comes to the surface, I'LL have to see it and deal with it and the delusion that I am somehow right and sane and figured out will come crashing down around me?  Or am I afraid that, since I do such a good job of hiding behind my "figured-out-ness," Jesus will actually see me as I really am and HE'LL be ashamed?  I know that makes absolutely ZERO since theologically, but there are times when I believe that if Jesus saw me as I really was, His holiness would not allow Him to love me.

Even as I re-read that last sentence, I am amazed that such a silly thought could exist inside my head.  I know better.  But the thought is there.  And I'm usually so busy living a surface life that I never get deep enough to word such delusional thoughts.  Fasting (in whatever form it shows up) has a tendency to move us beyond surface and into the deeper regions of our psyche that we don't want others or ourselves or even Jesus to see.  But I am becoming convinced that, until we open up THOSE areas of our lives to the redemption of Jesus, we'll continue to live in the patterns of our lives, being hurt by people and turning around and channelling that hurt towards others.

So I guess what I'm talking myself into is that the reality that this might be a tough week is probably a good thing, long term.  But, if I were you, I'd try to stay away from me until feast day.  You might not like what you see. . .

A Place at the Table, day 10 & feast day 2

All right, so it finally happened.  Because of the responsibilities of finishing up a sermon, delivering that sermon, dealing with the raminifications of that sermon, having a softball practice and leading a community gathering, the blog officially took its first day off yesterday.  So, I will have much to talk about today as I reflect on what was a life-changing weekend.

For much of this journey, there has been an unspoken storyline lingering just beneath the surface.  I have been waiting to write about that storyline, but have been hindered from doing so because of an announcement that I needed to make at church yesterday.  Well, yesterday is gone, so that unspoken storyline can finally be addressed.

Almost exactly ten years ago, I drove into Lubbock with a moving van that had begun the journey in Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts.  Three days after grabbing a ferry from the island, I arrived with all of the Drake family junk in West Texas to begin what has been a fascinating journey.  I stepped in almost immediately as a volunteer worship leader at Raintree Christian Church, and have been here ever since.  Nine years on staff as a worship/college/youth/assimilation/preaching/etc. minister.  It has been quite a ride, both personally and professionally.

But that journey has come to an end.  God has been stirring in our family for a while that He might be up to something different with us.  So I announced to the congregation that I was leaving Raintree, effective April 1, and that I was going to try to advance kingdom in a different way here in Lubbock.  It was a complex day, for sure.  I'm sure that the next few weeks will be emotional roller coasters for me as well, which means that those of you following me on this blog will get a front-row seat to the action.

I find myself a little overwhelmed by the decision and all that goes with it -- finding a job, storing my books, scouring the church building for all of my junk that is strewn throughout probably every room, etc.  So I will probably have to unpack those emotions gradually over the course of the next weeks.  Translation -- let's change the subject.

For a couple of weeks, there have been a group of us that have been gathering in homes on Sunday nights to dream different dreams about church and kingdom and gospel.  Last night we did something that was a unique experience for me.  I assigned chapters of the gospel of Mark and the readers had to figure out where in Lubbock might be an appropriate place for that passage to be read.  Maybe it would be a place where the action of the text might have taken place; maybe it would be a place that geographically was like the place in the narrative.  I gave very little instruction.  We ended up going all up and down Quaker Avenue, reading the Scriptures at hospitals and nursing homes, lakes and restaurants.  It was an interesting experience.

What really made it interesting to me was that I did not allow anyone who was not reading to follow along in their Bibles.  For much of the history of the church, the Scriptures were listened to, not read.  So I wanted to simulate this experience.  A couple of things struck me.  The first thing that struck me was that I don't believe I have ever been in a setting where that much Scripture was read and not commented on.  Most of the times when we gather around the Scriptures, we read a short passage and then listen to some blowhard like me tell you what it means.  We rarely allow the Scriptures to tell their own story without our help.  It was quite refreshing.

The second thing that stood out to me was how program/time-oriented we are.  Since I didn't have the Scriptures in front of me to know how much longer we had in each chapter, I kept looking at my watch, hoping that the reading would get done so that we could move on to the next location.  Did you catch that?  The story of the redemption of the world through Christ was being read over me and all I could concentrate on was how quickly we could move on to the next chapter!  How do I live with myself?  How hurried have we become that the simple story of Christ becomes something that we just need to get through?  God, help us!

A Place at the Table, day 9

I have always been a picky eater.  I blame my mom, primarily because she let's me blame her.  Growing up, I survived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  If mom made something that I didn't like, she would let me go make myself a PBJ.  It wasn't always like that.  I remember one epic battle between mom and me over a bowl of corn chowder (it even SOUNDS awful, doesn't it?).  I don't remember how the story really went down, but in my retelling of it, mom and I argued over me eating it for hours.  This happened in our kitchen at the house on Market Street in Crawfordsville, IN, so it must have happened before I was in 2nd grade.  Anyway, after hours of fighting, I finally got her to let me down from the table after eating only a bite.  I felt like it was victory for picky people everywhere.  How I ever made it to adulthood is a mystery.

This 40 day fast has really caused me to focus on food.  All the time.  When I started out, I was leery of how I could survive, since two of the things I was allowed to eat -- corn and beans -- I don't like.  One of my good friends, Dusty, was all over me, telling me that if I didn't eat some beans, I would do some permanent damage from the lack of protein in my diet.  Now, Dusty is in the medical field (a pedorthist, no less), so I thought I would heed his advice.

If you are a picky eater, you know the feelings of dread that pop up when you set out to try something new.  Well, on Thursday of this week, I finally gave into Dusty's demands and ate some beans.  At Taco Villa.  And while they weren't the greatest thing I have ever eaten, they were tolerable.  So much so that I had them again yesterday for lunch.  With a friend and fellow conspirator.  At Taco Villa.  (He suggested we do Rosa's, but I decided to take this bean thing slow.)

We had some friends over last night, and they were bringing the potato dish, so I was hopeful that it would be a chance to have another kind of potatoes.  Friend and baked potatoes are fine, but I was down for some mashed potatoes or whatever.  When they got here and opened the potatoes, I thought the grocery store had given them the wrong stuff.  It had green things in it, red things in it, and looked like grits.  If I hadn't talked myself into the fact that I was gonna get to try something new, I would have passed on the potato mush.  But I tried it.  Five servings later (I know -- that defeats the whole "solidarity with the poor" thing) I was full for the first time in days.

In one of the readings, Chris Seay (A Place at the Table) tells of some kids in Brazil that get to have watered-down coffee mixed with some sort of flour.  While it has no nutritional value, it fills their stomachs up.  For a little while, at least.  And for some of the people of Codo, that's all they'll get some days.  I wrote earlier about a family in Haiti that sometimes doesn't have enough food for all of their kids, so sometimes kids go without.  I was reflecting on this at lunch with Nick yesterday, and he told me (his Compassion kid is from Haiti) that he had read that sometimes kids in Haiti eat mudpies.  They have no nutritional value (it's dirt and water, in case you missed the whole "mud" part of that), but they have a digestible calcium in their dirt, so it makes them feel full.

Watered-down coffee?  Mud for breakfast?  This is the world in which we live, friends.  Some of us spend more on eating out in one month than families make in a year.  It reminds me of the point of one of Jesus' stories where he tells the people that "to whom much is given, much is required."  I hope that application scares you as much as it scares me.  Here I am complaining about having to eat beans and having to drink black coffee and my almost endless supply of clean water, and THERE ARE PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD THAT WILL EAT MUD TODAY!  I suppose, in light of that, I can stop complaining about green things in my potatoes.

But I still wouldn't eat corn chowder.

A Place at the Table, day 8

I could never be a writer.  The thought of writing everyday in this blog sometimes terrifies me.  It doesn't seem like much, but the everyday-ness of it can become daunting.  One of my favorite writers, Donald Miller, makes it seem so easy.  I'm sure that the real story is much more messy, but he makes it seem like he's weeks and months ahead on his blog, just waiting for the right time to post those life-changing thoughts that he planned out weeks before.

As I am sitting around throughout the day, I have all of these "brilliant" thoughts about what I'm going to write about.  Then, when I sit down at the computer to write, something completely different comes out.  Sometimes it has a little bit to do with the thought I had before, but most of the time it becomes just whatever thought pops into my head at the time.  SQUIRREL!

I suppose that some of that has to do with the fact that I'm a little guarded in my thoughts.  I don't know if you know this or not, but the Internet is available to people all over the world.  And while I'm not arrogant enough to believe that the entire world is listening in on my thoughts, it HAS surprised me who is following these thoughts.  Just a few moments ago in the coffee shop I am working in today, I ran into a friend that I haven't really talked to in months, and he commented on the fact that he has been following this blog.

One of the interesting things about a fast is that it opens you up to what is really going on in your heart.  When you peel away the layers of facade that we put up in our daily lives, sometimes we don't like what we find underneath.  There's this insight that my Master had into the human psyche -- "Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks."  While it doesn't seem like too much of a profound statement, there is deep truth in this simple statement.  I have found in recent weeks (some even before this fast began) that I can have a relatively foul mouth.  Now, I've been around church and life enough to know when not to use those words in public, but I find myself saying things in my private moments that are just not "churchy."  As a matter of fact, I find myself inserting inappropriate words into the worship songs that I am singing in the shower.  And, no, I don't mean "sing your freaking lungs out." (Obscure "Words to Build a Life On" reference for my Raintree peeps.)  It would be easy for me to dismiss this as just Dave being Dave, but if Jesus is to be believed (and I kinda think He IS to be believed) these words give a window to what is going on in my heart.  So, if my mouth is speaking filth, what does that say about my heart?

I was just looking up the passage that I quoted above to make sure my memory was correct (it was), and what I found convicted me even more.  The context of this insight in Matthew is Jesus teaching about good trees and bad trees.  The indictment right before this quote in Matthew is "You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good?"  Not exactly the encouragement that I needed today.

Or maybe it IS the encouragement I need.  Because that's what the real life looks like.  When we open up the dark places of our souls and our hearts to the Liberating King, we might not like what we see there.  But until we're willing to open our wounds to let His blood cover those dark places, true healing cannot come.  One of the things I love about my Jesus is that He will not force Himself into the darkness of our lives.  But once we open up those places to His light, we find healing, freedom, and redemption that we never knew was possible.  Not that it's easy to get there, but I'm choosing to trust that the shalom that happens on the other side of this is worth the muck that we find ourselves in now.

A Place at the Table, Day 7

So, sickness hit the Drake house this week.  Tinsley (our 4-year-old) spent the first half of the week with a fever.  It finally broke so that she could go to school yesterday, but her day was interrupted by an ear infection that knocked her back down.  Wendy ran her across town to the doctor, got a script for an antibiotic, and she's already looking and feeling better.

About two days ago I woke up with a feeling that I was coming down with something.  You know when you wake up and can't quite breathe and/or swallow normally?  That was me.  So I bought a bag of cough drops and have about eaten my weight in them over the course of the last three days.  Yes, I know that Remedan, our Compassion child, probably doesn't have access to Hall's cough drops, but in the midst of this fast, I still have work to do, so it's best that I keep moderately healthy.  So I'm downing the cough drops and water and coffee and hoping that those do the trick.

But it got me thinking about Remedan -- something I've done a whole lot more in the last week than I have in the previous six years we've sponsored him.  We've learned quite a bit about his community, family, and even Compassion International through this process.  We learned that we can send his family gifts, not just gifts for him.  We learned that he is at a Lutheran student center in the heart of a Muslim area of Ethiopia.  And we learned that his community does not have consistent access to clean water -- a problem that first grabbed our family's attention this past Advent with the work of Living Water International.

But my thoughts were, what happens when Remedan gets sick?  Our family is a pretty "earthy" family -- lots of water, organic foods, chiropractic, etc. -- so it's not just that he wouldn't have access to Tylenol and antibiotics.  How do you get healthy when you don't have clean water?  As I said, I have been dropping cough drops like a junkie.  In addition, I have been downing vitamin C in almost unhealthy quantities.  And I'm still sick three days later.  He has minimal access to vitamin C and to clean water.  Sometimes, even, the water that he drinks has more sickness in it than is already in his body.  It made me understand a little bit why things that we get sick with and get over can become really big, life-or-death deals in third world countries.

As I sit here in my chair watching my now-healthy 4-year-old play with her Disney princesses, I'm less likely to complain that her childcare center has a policy that didn't allow me to take her to school today.  An infection that could have had her lying in pain for days is all but gone after one round of antibiotic.  And while my scratchy throat might be an annoyance when I preach on Sunday (especially to my listeners), I think I'll be all right.  As long as I don't run out of cough drops.  Or clean water.