Probably the only reason that this Lenten fast works for me is because of the weekly feast day. I didn't realize until three years ago that, even though a typical Lent observance is 40 days, the actual time period from Ash Wednesday to Easter is 46 days. Some Christian traditions use those extra days (typically Sundays) as feast days in the midst of the fast. That's the beautiful thing of the A Place at the Table fast. The Sundays are feast days.
It may be because those first four fast days seemed so long, but this first feast day of Lent was glorious. As was my tradition last year, my feast day began with a Reese's product (this time a PB heart) just after midnight. While this is probably cheating, it has become one of my favorite Lent traditions. This time, the Reese's product was washed down with a Woodhouse Cider, meaning that I consumed almost as many calories before going to bed as I typically did in an entire fast day. Then, I woke up to a fresh cup of coffee (with creamer!!) and waited for our community to come over. The plan was pancakes, eggs, bacon, and fruit for breakfast, and it was fantastic. All of the four core families are doing some sort of fast this year, so it was a wondrous Sunday morning for us. The smell of bacon (and the knowledge that I could eat some!) was a sacred thing! I never even needed a plate. I picked up a piece of bacon every time I walked past the serving plate, thus allowing me to have no real idea how much bacon I ate.
Breakfast was so good that, despite the fact that feast day only comes once a week, we skipped lunch. We were still full from bacon! It didn't help that church went until around 1:30. We made plans to meet some of our favorite people for dinner, and that turned out to be a great joy. The Milners are some mentors of ours and we just never seem to have time in our schedules to hang out. So an evening at 50th Street Caboose was just perfect. The grilled chicken sandwich (with bacon and cheese) was perfect with sweet potato fries. The conversation was fantastic, the Milner kids kept T occupied, and it was nice to have some adult time.
As I was finishing up the day with some laundry and cleaning, I reflected on my first feast day. And it might have been that bacon was what made it such a great day. Bacon makes most everything better. But I think it was the people that made Sunday so great. Singing songs in my living room with kids screaming out that "God's not dead, He's surely alive, and he's living on the inside, roaring like a lion." Standing around the griddle making pancakes and bacon while laughing. Hanging out after "church" for an hour to just catch up. Eating a good meal with some of our favorite people. It was a reminder of what is truly important. I can live without most of the food pleasures of life. But I could never survive without community. Without friends. Without people.
That's what life is truly about.
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
A Place at the Table, Year 2
Two years ago, Wendy and I were visiting one of my favorite people who happens to work at our favorite church (www.ecclesiahouston.org) when we were introduced to a new way to view Lent. Having grown up in a good, evangelical, protestant church, I had never really given Lent a whole lot of thought. It was chalked up as "one of those odd things that Catholics do." However, one of the men that I admire greatly, Chris Seay, was in the midst of a Lenten experiment that later became chronicled in a book entitled A Place at the Table: 40 Days of Solidarity with the Poor (buy it on Kindle here: A Place at the Table).
Last year, a group of us from the 8th Day Collective jumped into Lent with both feet. If you search back through my blog, you can find last year's thoughts. It was an amazing, painful, bonding experience for me personally and for us as a church. The basic premise of the challenge is this: Lent is the 46-day period from Ash Wednesday to Easter. During the 40 days (excluding the 6 Sundays), the challenge is to eat only foods that your Compassion/World Vision/CRF/etc. child would have access to. Then, on Sundays, you can eat whatever you want in whatever quantity. (You'd better believe that there was a lot of BACON consumed by our church on Sundays!) The hope of the challenge is that, through the experience and the devotional at the back of A Place at the Table, we would develop a deeper appreciation for the plight of those around the world who live in poverty. (Interesting side note: Apparently there is a movie coming out of the same title that explores the plight of some 50 million Americans who don't know where their next meal will come from.) Then, you take the money that you would have regularly spent on food and give it to a charitable organization of your choice, preferably one that is doing something about the plight of the poor.
Even though it seems like just yesterday that we did this, it has been a year, and the Lenten season is back upon us. So, the challenge is back as well. And with two days of the fast over, I'm not sure I'm gonna make it. I don't remember beans, rice, potatoes, bread, and black coffee being quite this boring. (Actually, I DO remember the black coffee being this boring.) On Ash Wednesday, I walked out of lunch hungry, wondering how long it was until dinner. And at dinner, that baked potato with nothing but salt was about as bland as a Physics lecture. Wendy assures me that it was just as bad last year, but this has a different feeling. Maybe I should go back and read my own blog from last year and remember just how miserable I was.
It's pretty disappointing, really. I have gotten so used to whatever I want whenever I want it that there seems to be no need for discipline. No need for Jesus. No need grace. Whereas last year's challenge led me into a deep appreciation of the plight of the poor, maybe this year's challenge will lead me deep inside my own psyche to remind me just how poor I really am. How much I need Jesus. How much I should depend on grace.
But I sure am hungry today.
Last year, a group of us from the 8th Day Collective jumped into Lent with both feet. If you search back through my blog, you can find last year's thoughts. It was an amazing, painful, bonding experience for me personally and for us as a church. The basic premise of the challenge is this: Lent is the 46-day period from Ash Wednesday to Easter. During the 40 days (excluding the 6 Sundays), the challenge is to eat only foods that your Compassion/World Vision/CRF/etc. child would have access to. Then, on Sundays, you can eat whatever you want in whatever quantity. (You'd better believe that there was a lot of BACON consumed by our church on Sundays!) The hope of the challenge is that, through the experience and the devotional at the back of A Place at the Table, we would develop a deeper appreciation for the plight of those around the world who live in poverty. (Interesting side note: Apparently there is a movie coming out of the same title that explores the plight of some 50 million Americans who don't know where their next meal will come from.) Then, you take the money that you would have regularly spent on food and give it to a charitable organization of your choice, preferably one that is doing something about the plight of the poor.
Even though it seems like just yesterday that we did this, it has been a year, and the Lenten season is back upon us. So, the challenge is back as well. And with two days of the fast over, I'm not sure I'm gonna make it. I don't remember beans, rice, potatoes, bread, and black coffee being quite this boring. (Actually, I DO remember the black coffee being this boring.) On Ash Wednesday, I walked out of lunch hungry, wondering how long it was until dinner. And at dinner, that baked potato with nothing but salt was about as bland as a Physics lecture. Wendy assures me that it was just as bad last year, but this has a different feeling. Maybe I should go back and read my own blog from last year and remember just how miserable I was.
It's pretty disappointing, really. I have gotten so used to whatever I want whenever I want it that there seems to be no need for discipline. No need for Jesus. No need grace. Whereas last year's challenge led me into a deep appreciation of the plight of the poor, maybe this year's challenge will lead me deep inside my own psyche to remind me just how poor I really am. How much I need Jesus. How much I should depend on grace.
But I sure am hungry today.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
A Place at the Table, day 38, 39, 40
So here we are. In what seems like an unbelievable turn of events, I have survived the 40 day "A Place at the Table" fast with a minimal amount of damage. As a matter of fact, there have been several positive things that have come out of this fast, just from a physical perspective. We'll start this blog post with the two big advantages of this fast for me physically and we'll see where the blog goes from there.
Advantage #1: I learned to like beans.
I know this seems like such a minor detail, but for those of you who know how dadgum picky I am, this is a pretty huge deal. This is going to be of extra significance to me because of where I currently live. Every other restaurant in Lubbock is a Mexican restaurant, and my ability to get meaningful sides with my quesadillas, tacos, and fajitas is going to greatly increase my opportunities to leave a restaurant full. I should no longer have to keep my main course separated from the sides, lest the thing that I like get "infected" by the things that I don't. I could legitimately go to Abuelo's and eat a meal that included no meat and still walk out full. The implications of this are life-changing. I hope.
Advantage #2: I lost a bunch of weight.
This is the easiest advantage to behold. Over the last few weeks especially I have gotten comments on how much weight I have lost. My insurance guy caught me in the grocery store today and commented on it. I've actually been losing weight since November (there's a story to it -- you should ask me some time!), and have only lost about 10-12 pounds on this fast. But I guess it was the kind of weight loss that shows up in my face, which has led to the increase of comments. I am now (at least according to my scale) at the weight that I should max out at for my age and height. It's pretty sad that it takes a 40-day fast to get me down to where I should have been maxed out. But it does feel good to be here.
Now, as far as the other advantages, I feel like I have only just begun to reap benefits in other areas of my life. There have been days in the past several years when I have wondered if I was disciplined enough to do anything for a week, let alone 40 days. This experience has shown me that I do, indeed, have that level of discipline. And I just can't get away from the linguistic tie between "discipline" and "disciple." Maybe I do have what it takes to be a disciple of Jesus after all.
The camaraderie that has been formed in our little group during this 40 days has been unreal, even for those who weren't able to participate in the fast. I don't really understand where this level of community came from or how we got there, but it has been phenomenal for us. It was the absolute BEST way to begin a journey together, and I even feel like this fast is going to inform where our community goes from here.
Even though the blog will change from being focused on the fast to being more holistic, I feel like the topics and discussions and conclusions that I come to in these writings will be informed by what went down during this fast. So thanks, Chris Seay (like he reads this!) for having the courage to experience this fast yourself a year ago and for writing it down for others of us to be a part of. Thanks to those of you who stuck with this blog and encouraged me along the way to keep writing. And thanks to this little community that enacted this fast together and was there to whine and complain about it with me. I am so excited about where we go from here. I mean, after Feaster!!!!!
Advantage #1: I learned to like beans.
I know this seems like such a minor detail, but for those of you who know how dadgum picky I am, this is a pretty huge deal. This is going to be of extra significance to me because of where I currently live. Every other restaurant in Lubbock is a Mexican restaurant, and my ability to get meaningful sides with my quesadillas, tacos, and fajitas is going to greatly increase my opportunities to leave a restaurant full. I should no longer have to keep my main course separated from the sides, lest the thing that I like get "infected" by the things that I don't. I could legitimately go to Abuelo's and eat a meal that included no meat and still walk out full. The implications of this are life-changing. I hope.
Advantage #2: I lost a bunch of weight.
This is the easiest advantage to behold. Over the last few weeks especially I have gotten comments on how much weight I have lost. My insurance guy caught me in the grocery store today and commented on it. I've actually been losing weight since November (there's a story to it -- you should ask me some time!), and have only lost about 10-12 pounds on this fast. But I guess it was the kind of weight loss that shows up in my face, which has led to the increase of comments. I am now (at least according to my scale) at the weight that I should max out at for my age and height. It's pretty sad that it takes a 40-day fast to get me down to where I should have been maxed out. But it does feel good to be here.
Now, as far as the other advantages, I feel like I have only just begun to reap benefits in other areas of my life. There have been days in the past several years when I have wondered if I was disciplined enough to do anything for a week, let alone 40 days. This experience has shown me that I do, indeed, have that level of discipline. And I just can't get away from the linguistic tie between "discipline" and "disciple." Maybe I do have what it takes to be a disciple of Jesus after all.
The camaraderie that has been formed in our little group during this 40 days has been unreal, even for those who weren't able to participate in the fast. I don't really understand where this level of community came from or how we got there, but it has been phenomenal for us. It was the absolute BEST way to begin a journey together, and I even feel like this fast is going to inform where our community goes from here.
Even though the blog will change from being focused on the fast to being more holistic, I feel like the topics and discussions and conclusions that I come to in these writings will be informed by what went down during this fast. So thanks, Chris Seay (like he reads this!) for having the courage to experience this fast yourself a year ago and for writing it down for others of us to be a part of. Thanks to those of you who stuck with this blog and encouraged me along the way to keep writing. And thanks to this little community that enacted this fast together and was there to whine and complain about it with me. I am so excited about where we go from here. I mean, after Feaster!!!!!
Saturday, March 31, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, March 26, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, March 12, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, March 5, 2012
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!
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!
Saturday, March 3, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, March 2, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
A Place at the Table, day 6
Hard to believe that I've done this fast for 6 days. I know that seems like such a minuscule amount of time, but we're just under 1/6 of the way through this. This fast has already altered the way that I look at life and food, finances and wealth, wants and needs. And there's so much more to go.
Yesterday was one of the more difficult days of the fast. I suppose that, if life stopped during lent and big decisions could be postponed, this fast might be easier. But the reality of it is that life goes on despite our hunger. There are still deadlines to be met, bills to be paid, decisions to be made, all while not feeling at the top of your game. I don't know what it is about the second day of a fast (yesterday being the second fast day since the feast day) that is so hard for me. I was hungry all day. I was still sitting at lunch with a friend and felt hungry and ready to eat. Since Tinsley was feeling better after three days of fever, we decided that we would go out and have some McAlister's. Again, I left the restaurant feeling hungry.
And in the midst of all of this, there are a lot of things changing on the homefront -- some of which I hope to be able to talk about in the near future. So I'm trying to honor the fast while keeping enough of my focus on life so that I am able to make competent decisions. I'm not sure how well I'm doing with that.
But the journey reminds me about how interconnected it all really is. I'm reminded that issues like weight and exercise, health and wholeness, finances and possessions are all spiritual issues. A fast reminds you that you can't separate your "spiritual" life from your "real" life; they're too interconnected. God wired us so that all of these aspects work together to make an integrated whole. When we are struggling with a physical issue, our spiritual lives are affected -- and vice versa. And yesterday, my life was affected by my lack of food. It's a hard lesson to learn, but an important one nonetheless.
Yesterday was one of the more difficult days of the fast. I suppose that, if life stopped during lent and big decisions could be postponed, this fast might be easier. But the reality of it is that life goes on despite our hunger. There are still deadlines to be met, bills to be paid, decisions to be made, all while not feeling at the top of your game. I don't know what it is about the second day of a fast (yesterday being the second fast day since the feast day) that is so hard for me. I was hungry all day. I was still sitting at lunch with a friend and felt hungry and ready to eat. Since Tinsley was feeling better after three days of fever, we decided that we would go out and have some McAlister's. Again, I left the restaurant feeling hungry.
And in the midst of all of this, there are a lot of things changing on the homefront -- some of which I hope to be able to talk about in the near future. So I'm trying to honor the fast while keeping enough of my focus on life so that I am able to make competent decisions. I'm not sure how well I'm doing with that.
But the journey reminds me about how interconnected it all really is. I'm reminded that issues like weight and exercise, health and wholeness, finances and possessions are all spiritual issues. A fast reminds you that you can't separate your "spiritual" life from your "real" life; they're too interconnected. God wired us so that all of these aspects work together to make an integrated whole. When we are struggling with a physical issue, our spiritual lives are affected -- and vice versa. And yesterday, my life was affected by my lack of food. It's a hard lesson to learn, but an important one nonetheless.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
A Place at the Table, day 5
I was worried about yesterday, seeing as how I had spent the day before feasting. I was afraid that my body might have gone back into "regular diet" mode and that I would revisit the hunger pangs and anger of the previous week. It turns out that none of those fears were founded. Outside of an odd craving for a cold schooner of Shiner at about 7:00, my desires were pretty well under control. At least for one day.
And it made me think about the nature of worry. There's this illustration that Jesus uses in the Sermon on the Mount where he compares us to birds and flowers and grass and makes the point that, if God takes care of all of those things. why would we envision ourselves as less important? When I was a freshman at Lincoln Christian College, I had to memorize that passage in its entirety (along with the rest of Matthew 5, 6 & 7). So, I know that passage well. But it is still such a challenge to live that out.
The statistics on worry are pretty enlightening. I remember reading about a study that a smart person did about worry. About 40% of the things that we worry about never come to fruition. Another 30% of the things we worry about are things that have happened in the past. Still another 12% of our worries have to do with other people's opinions of us -- at least our perception of their perception of us. And still another 10% are needless health worries -- worries that actually cause our health to decrease due to the worry. That leaves 8% of our worries devoted to legitimate concerns. Hardly seems worth all of the mindspace that we devote to it, does it?
It continues to amaze me how, when you strip away things from your life, you begin to examine the pieces that remain. And in a lot of ways, you don't like what you see. I worry far to often about far too much. Will the bills be paid? Am I doing what I was called and created to do? Will my kids grow up to love God and people? What does so-and-so really think of me?
In the daily reading for day 5 (A Place at the Table, by Chris Seay), Chris points out that the remedy for worry is gratitude. His challenge was to just have a piece of paper handy and to spend the day writing down the things that you are grateful for. I honestly didn't read that devotion until today, so I didn't even attempt that. I was too worried about other things. So, maybe today I'll have the piece of paper next to me to write those things down. Will you try it as well?
I WILL tell you this: the first thing I'll write on that paper (through gritted teeth) is black coffee. Lots and lots of black coffee.
And it made me think about the nature of worry. There's this illustration that Jesus uses in the Sermon on the Mount where he compares us to birds and flowers and grass and makes the point that, if God takes care of all of those things. why would we envision ourselves as less important? When I was a freshman at Lincoln Christian College, I had to memorize that passage in its entirety (along with the rest of Matthew 5, 6 & 7). So, I know that passage well. But it is still such a challenge to live that out.
The statistics on worry are pretty enlightening. I remember reading about a study that a smart person did about worry. About 40% of the things that we worry about never come to fruition. Another 30% of the things we worry about are things that have happened in the past. Still another 12% of our worries have to do with other people's opinions of us -- at least our perception of their perception of us. And still another 10% are needless health worries -- worries that actually cause our health to decrease due to the worry. That leaves 8% of our worries devoted to legitimate concerns. Hardly seems worth all of the mindspace that we devote to it, does it?
It continues to amaze me how, when you strip away things from your life, you begin to examine the pieces that remain. And in a lot of ways, you don't like what you see. I worry far to often about far too much. Will the bills be paid? Am I doing what I was called and created to do? Will my kids grow up to love God and people? What does so-and-so really think of me?
In the daily reading for day 5 (A Place at the Table, by Chris Seay), Chris points out that the remedy for worry is gratitude. His challenge was to just have a piece of paper handy and to spend the day writing down the things that you are grateful for. I honestly didn't read that devotion until today, so I didn't even attempt that. I was too worried about other things. So, maybe today I'll have the piece of paper next to me to write those things down. Will you try it as well?
I WILL tell you this: the first thing I'll write on that paper (through gritted teeth) is black coffee. Lots and lots of black coffee.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
A Place at the Table, day 4
I have found that when I have been fasting for a couple of days, my body gets settled and I become almost impervious to the fact that I am doing something different with my diet. That settling happened on day 4. It was Saturday, so I had an easy morning and then had responsibilities refereeing a basketball game and then coaching Faith's basketball team (we won, but more on that in a moment). The afternoon was naps and TV, dinner and baths for my girls. A relatively serene day on the Lent front.
So I want to just take a moment to write about my experience coaching Faith's Upward basketball team. This was my first experience as a head coach, so I was very nervous going in. Despite the fact that I played competitive basketball through college, I had never coached before. And in case you didn't know it, girls basketball is a little bit different from boys basketball. But Faith & I had an agreement, so we went with it.
My goal in coaching these eight girls was that they would develop a love for the game and that they would continue playing basketball well beyond this year. And I wanted basketball to be fun. About halfway through our 8-game season, I looked up and we were undefeated (with a tie). That became a bit of our guiding principle from then on. But I still tried to keep them focused on skill development and a love for basketball.
Our last game was yesterday. Faith had yet to score this season, and while I was excited about our team's success, I SOOOOOO wanted Faith to score. At least once. She came out in the game yesterday very aggressive, getting several steals, a few rebounds, and even a jump ball. She got off a couple of shots, but nothing fell. Until. She got a rebound and arched a shot really high, and it came down right where it needed to -- nothing but net! I am by nature an "energetic coach" (shocking, I know), but I about jumped out of the gym. I was so happy for her! She had worked so hard and kept going despite her inability to score points, and it was rewarded in that last game. And because I was the coach, I was guaranteed the opportunity to see it. We did end up undefeated, but that paled in comparison to the joy I saw on Faith's face!
I hate that I'm beginning to sound like somewhat of a broken record in these posts -- I guess that's what happens when your diet looks the same every day -- but it really is the simpler things in life that grant us the greatest joy. I've had success in life and school and ministry. But my girls don't care about any of that. I decided long ago that whatever opportunities I have to be in my daughters' lives, I'm going to embrace them. That's why, when I get to take Grace & Faith to school in the morning, I park my car and I walk them into their classrooms. When I take Tinsley to school, I chat with her teachers and give her a kiss before I go. Especially with my oldest, I'm not sure how many more days it will be before walking down the school hallway holding daddy's hand will be socially unacceptable. But I'm gonna get the most out of it while I still can.
So, if you're a parent, enjoy every moment with your kids. Hug them tight. Kiss them goodnight. Walk them to class. Carry them when they ask. Volunteer at their schools. Coach their sports teams. And if you're a grandparent, be in your kids and grandkids lives. Go to their softball games as often as you can. Give your kids a break by taking your grandkids for a day. Bosses will fire you. Jobs will change. Stock markets will take your money. But you'll always have your kids. And you'll never forget days like yesterday, when the shot hit nothing but net.
So I want to just take a moment to write about my experience coaching Faith's Upward basketball team. This was my first experience as a head coach, so I was very nervous going in. Despite the fact that I played competitive basketball through college, I had never coached before. And in case you didn't know it, girls basketball is a little bit different from boys basketball. But Faith & I had an agreement, so we went with it.
My goal in coaching these eight girls was that they would develop a love for the game and that they would continue playing basketball well beyond this year. And I wanted basketball to be fun. About halfway through our 8-game season, I looked up and we were undefeated (with a tie). That became a bit of our guiding principle from then on. But I still tried to keep them focused on skill development and a love for basketball.
Our last game was yesterday. Faith had yet to score this season, and while I was excited about our team's success, I SOOOOOO wanted Faith to score. At least once. She came out in the game yesterday very aggressive, getting several steals, a few rebounds, and even a jump ball. She got off a couple of shots, but nothing fell. Until. She got a rebound and arched a shot really high, and it came down right where it needed to -- nothing but net! I am by nature an "energetic coach" (shocking, I know), but I about jumped out of the gym. I was so happy for her! She had worked so hard and kept going despite her inability to score points, and it was rewarded in that last game. And because I was the coach, I was guaranteed the opportunity to see it. We did end up undefeated, but that paled in comparison to the joy I saw on Faith's face!
I hate that I'm beginning to sound like somewhat of a broken record in these posts -- I guess that's what happens when your diet looks the same every day -- but it really is the simpler things in life that grant us the greatest joy. I've had success in life and school and ministry. But my girls don't care about any of that. I decided long ago that whatever opportunities I have to be in my daughters' lives, I'm going to embrace them. That's why, when I get to take Grace & Faith to school in the morning, I park my car and I walk them into their classrooms. When I take Tinsley to school, I chat with her teachers and give her a kiss before I go. Especially with my oldest, I'm not sure how many more days it will be before walking down the school hallway holding daddy's hand will be socially unacceptable. But I'm gonna get the most out of it while I still can.
So, if you're a parent, enjoy every moment with your kids. Hug them tight. Kiss them goodnight. Walk them to class. Carry them when they ask. Volunteer at their schools. Coach their sports teams. And if you're a grandparent, be in your kids and grandkids lives. Go to their softball games as often as you can. Give your kids a break by taking your grandkids for a day. Bosses will fire you. Jobs will change. Stock markets will take your money. But you'll always have your kids. And you'll never forget days like yesterday, when the shot hit nothing but net.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
A Place at the Table, Day 3
Usually, about day 3 or 4 of a fast, your body acclimates itself to what's going on and the hunger pangs lessen throughout the day. Sure, when meal times approach, your body lets you know that it's hungry, but the "chronic" ongoing hunger goes away. That was yesterday for me. I was hungry at noon and 6:00, but was good the rest of the day, for the most part.
The last Friday of the month is usually a night that Wendy & I spend hanging out with special needs children through a program called Night O.W.L.S. But, since several of the families that we watch had sick kids, we weren't needed last night. So Wendy & I went out on a date. Which is not as exciting as it sounds when you're on a beans/rice/potato/corn/bread diet. So after a couple of places had wait times that were too long, we settled into Chipotle. And since it was a date, I decided to splurge/cheat and have their cilantro-lime rice. Oh, my! What a treat! I devoured it with joy and, as I was picking the cilantro out of my teeth, I smiled at how "simple" this pleasure was. I later got a text from a fellow journeyer whose day was made when he realized he had some left over Jimmy John's bread to enjoy at dinner. The simple things.
So, maybe the lesson from yesterday is to appreciate the simple things in life. A child's laughter. A beautiful sunset. A home with a roof and heat. The company of friends. An independent child who wants to snuggle because she doesn't feel good. Good music. An engaging read. Comfortable shoes. Fancy dresses. Hot coffee. And even cilantro-lime rice and Jimmy John's bread.
So take a moment today to notice the simple things. Hold that hug for a second longer. Smell the coffee before you drink it. Smile more. Look at your watch less. Enjoy the life you've been given, and in so doing, in a mysterious sort of way, you will be embracing the life that is to come.
The last Friday of the month is usually a night that Wendy & I spend hanging out with special needs children through a program called Night O.W.L.S. But, since several of the families that we watch had sick kids, we weren't needed last night. So Wendy & I went out on a date. Which is not as exciting as it sounds when you're on a beans/rice/potato/corn/bread diet. So after a couple of places had wait times that were too long, we settled into Chipotle. And since it was a date, I decided to splurge/cheat and have their cilantro-lime rice. Oh, my! What a treat! I devoured it with joy and, as I was picking the cilantro out of my teeth, I smiled at how "simple" this pleasure was. I later got a text from a fellow journeyer whose day was made when he realized he had some left over Jimmy John's bread to enjoy at dinner. The simple things.
So, maybe the lesson from yesterday is to appreciate the simple things in life. A child's laughter. A beautiful sunset. A home with a roof and heat. The company of friends. An independent child who wants to snuggle because she doesn't feel good. Good music. An engaging read. Comfortable shoes. Fancy dresses. Hot coffee. And even cilantro-lime rice and Jimmy John's bread.
So take a moment today to notice the simple things. Hold that hug for a second longer. Smell the coffee before you drink it. Smile more. Look at your watch less. Enjoy the life you've been given, and in so doing, in a mysterious sort of way, you will be embracing the life that is to come.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
A Place at the Table, Day 1
Last year, Wendy & I visited Ecclesia in Houston over spring break. Our friend, Steven, is a pastor there, and we wanted to check out his church. While we were there, the senior pastor, Chris Seay, was guiding his family through a lenten journey that included eating only what their Compassion child would be able to eat. I was intrigued, especially when I overheard Chris' teenage daughter telling someone how excited she was that it was Sunday and that they would get to eat something other than beans and rice.
Chris' lenten journey found its way into print in his most recent book A Place at the Table. It is a short book that lays out the plan and then walks you through the journey. I won't rehash the book here; if you want to know more, go buy the book. Then read it.
I challenged our community here in Lubbock to consider joining with me (& Chris & others) in this 40 days of solidarity with the poor. Several of our families have joined with me, and I thought this would be a good journey to blog about for the next several weeks.
I think what I was most dreading about the diet of our Ethiopian Compassion child was the black coffee. If you know me, you know that I like my coffee horribly girly. But coffee was a non-negotiable, so I decided I would have to drink it black. I'm pretty sure that I didn't like it, but the 6 cups throughout the day kept my mind off of my hunger.
The diet in Ethiopia consists of maize, rice, potatoes, beans, & bread. Being a picky eater, that leaves me with rice, potatoes, and bread. Maybe I'll learn to tolerate beans. I probably ought to anyway, seeing as every other meal in Lubbock includes beans. I got a text from a friend/fellow-journeyer mid day saying that the purchasing of 5 pound of rice and 5 pounds of beans really made this journey a reality. I agreed.
I had a lunch appointment, so I sat down at McAlister's with a potato. No butter. No sour cream. Just a potato. As I was halfway through eating the skin of the potato, my friend asked me if I normally ate the skin of my potatoes. When I informed him that I did NOT, in fact, usually eat the skin, he asked if I was going to lick the plate after I was done. Had he not asked me that, I probably would have.
Dinner was a bowl of plain white rice. I ended up eating less than half of the calories allotted to me by my trusty iPhone app. As a matter of fact, my app warned me that if I didn't begin consuming more, I could cause some problems to my body. First world problems, I guess.
Later in the evening I got a text from another fellow-journeyer, comiserating with me about what an unenjoyable journey this was turning out to be. But then, this friend-who is a hard-core Yankees fan-told me that his family had decided to sponsor a child from the Dominican Republic. And he told me that the little boy's name was Jeter. Not gonna lie -- I teared up. Kingdom was breaking out among us on day one of the journey.
I went to bed on day one of the journey with an empty stomach, but a grateful heart. I know that it's only the beginning, but I am blessed to be journeying with godly friends. And I know that feast day is in four days. Beware, Reese's peanut butter hearts. Beware.
Chris' lenten journey found its way into print in his most recent book A Place at the Table. It is a short book that lays out the plan and then walks you through the journey. I won't rehash the book here; if you want to know more, go buy the book. Then read it.
I challenged our community here in Lubbock to consider joining with me (& Chris & others) in this 40 days of solidarity with the poor. Several of our families have joined with me, and I thought this would be a good journey to blog about for the next several weeks.
I think what I was most dreading about the diet of our Ethiopian Compassion child was the black coffee. If you know me, you know that I like my coffee horribly girly. But coffee was a non-negotiable, so I decided I would have to drink it black. I'm pretty sure that I didn't like it, but the 6 cups throughout the day kept my mind off of my hunger.
The diet in Ethiopia consists of maize, rice, potatoes, beans, & bread. Being a picky eater, that leaves me with rice, potatoes, and bread. Maybe I'll learn to tolerate beans. I probably ought to anyway, seeing as every other meal in Lubbock includes beans. I got a text from a friend/fellow-journeyer mid day saying that the purchasing of 5 pound of rice and 5 pounds of beans really made this journey a reality. I agreed.
I had a lunch appointment, so I sat down at McAlister's with a potato. No butter. No sour cream. Just a potato. As I was halfway through eating the skin of the potato, my friend asked me if I normally ate the skin of my potatoes. When I informed him that I did NOT, in fact, usually eat the skin, he asked if I was going to lick the plate after I was done. Had he not asked me that, I probably would have.
Dinner was a bowl of plain white rice. I ended up eating less than half of the calories allotted to me by my trusty iPhone app. As a matter of fact, my app warned me that if I didn't begin consuming more, I could cause some problems to my body. First world problems, I guess.
Later in the evening I got a text from another fellow-journeyer, comiserating with me about what an unenjoyable journey this was turning out to be. But then, this friend-who is a hard-core Yankees fan-told me that his family had decided to sponsor a child from the Dominican Republic. And he told me that the little boy's name was Jeter. Not gonna lie -- I teared up. Kingdom was breaking out among us on day one of the journey.
I went to bed on day one of the journey with an empty stomach, but a grateful heart. I know that it's only the beginning, but I am blessed to be journeying with godly friends. And I know that feast day is in four days. Beware, Reese's peanut butter hearts. Beware.
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