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World AIDS Day 2009

December 1, 2009 in Compassion, Conviction, Family, Health with 0 Comments

I have a posts lined up for all of December to get back into this thing.  I had planned on launching the first today.

However, today is World AIDS Day, and I can’t let it go by without some sort of commemoration.

I should have planned better, but I didn’t.  So, I give you a re-post, what I wrote for World AIDS Day last year.

Thanks.

letstalkabouthiv

Today is World AIDS Day. Not quite as celebratory of a day as we recently experienced with Thanksgiving, but one that people will commemorate around the world in various ways. Some will wear a red ribbon to show their awareness and support. Some will go to Starbucks and purchase one of their specialty holiday drinks so that $0.05 can be donated to the (RED) campaign. Some will give a speech. Some will examine patients. Some will stand in line for their ARV’s. Some will slowly and painfully pass from this world to the next. And some will go about their day blissfully unaware that any of the rest of this is happening at all.

What will you do?

The vast majority of the people I’m surrounded by on a daily basis are lucky enough to have not really been affected by the AIDS pandemic in a personal way. Many people I know haven’t even ever come into contact with anyone who has HIV/AIDS. On some level I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful that my city, my state, my country hasn’t been so ravaged by this disease that it is commonplace, that part of a person’s daily existence is a constant state of fear over when it will strike, when their luck, or the luck of a family member or friend, will finally run out. On some level I’m thankful that on World Aids Day there are a lot of people who can’t think of a single person with the disease that they can do something for, that the extent of their involvement really is ordering a grande peppermint mocha or joining a Facebook group that at least says they will. I’m thankful that this discussion of this disease can be dealt with in such a manner that junior high students in my country are more educated about it than the presidents of other nations. I’m thankful that we can make movies about it that make us cry and give Oscars to actors “brave” enough to play such a role with true, heartfelt empathy. I’m thankful that some of our largest companies can jump onboard with a campaign that spends more money on promoting awareness of the disease than it raises to help fight the disease. On some level I’m thankful for all these things. I really am.

However, I understand that the world in which I live, in which AIDS is a cause for action and not of death, is not the real world. I’m lucky. I’m blessed. That’s the only thing that separates me from those who live in constant fear and ignorance of this disease every moment of every day.

I understand this because I am not one of the people I’m surrounded by that have not been affected by the AIDS pandemic in a personal way. But again, I’m just blessed, lucky, in that the way in which I have been affected is in perhaps the most positive way possible. AIDS didn’t take a family member from me. Instead, it gave me one I wouldn’t have had otherwise.

alfiesliding1Most of you have heard me talk about or have read my writings about my youngest brother, Alfie. Alfie is of the Tswana tribe in South Africa. He is four years old (He’ll turn five in January), and his adoption by my parents became official in September of 2007, though he’s lived with them since he was about eighteen months. Alfie is also one of the millions of children around the world that have been orphaned because of AIDS (in fact, a child is orphaned by AIDS every 14 seconds. How many orphans does that make in the amount of time it’s taken you to read this post so far?).

Alfie’s biological father is unknown and his birth-mother died when he was just a baby from AIDS. She was just another one of the thousands living with the disease made more complicated because they are stricken with poverty as well. I don’t say that to make light of her death, but to express the general attitude that is often taken towards those with the disease. When she died, Alfie was sent to live with his uncle who has children of his own, lives in a squatter camp outside Pretoria, and works as a day laborer if he can. He also has a drinking problem. Alfie has very bad allergies. So, you can imagine that a squatter camp wouldn’t be the best environment for him to be in. When my parents found him, he was really sick. They offered to take Alfie to get some medical treatment and to stay with them until he was better. This led to my parents wanting to adopt him. For a number of reasons, it was a really long process, but now he is a Kinsley (to be fair, I’ve just vastly oversimplified his story. Perhaps at another time I can do it justice, but that’s not really the point of this post).

Alfie is lucky. He’s blessed. His story is definitely not typical for these children. He comes from a continent that is ravaged by the disease. It still carries a heavy social stigma with it so that most people don’t want to talk about it and complete ignorance is the norm. I’ve sat and talked with other AIDS orphans who actually contracted the disease from their mother before she died. I’ve listened to their stories, their fears, their worries. I’ve heard them talk about how much they hate their medication, though it’s the only thing keeping them alive. I’ve seen the marks of the witch doctors on children they are “treating,” the same witch doctors that often prescribe to older men with AIDS to have sex with the youngest virgin they can find in order to be healed. I’ll allow you to take that to its conclusion for yourself. I’ve knelt beside a “bed” in a shack in a squatter camp and held and prayed for a young woman no older than myself and prayed for strength in healing as she faces the final stages of the disease.

In some ways I’ve had the opportunity to stare the monster of AIDS in the face, and I’ll tell you this: it scares the hell out of me. Literally. It makes me cling to the things of Heaven, the things of God, to Him and His wisdom and His will and His plan and His timing. I have to trust him. It’s too big for me to deal with on my own. Every country in the world is affected by HIV/AIDS. Every single one. Some, like mine, have stemmed the tide. Others, like Alfie’s native country, are on the verge of being awash in it. Still others are struggling to keep their heads afloat.

But I do what I can, and I hope you will too. Today, I hope you wear your ribbon. I hope you buy your peppermint mocha and join your Facebook group. I hope you have some conversation with someone who didn’t even know there was a World AIDS Day and open their eyes.

But if you want to think about maybe doing a little bit more, here’s some suggestions for you.

1. Sponsor a Compassion child. I know. It seems like there are tons of us within my circle that won’t shut up about Compassion. Well, there’s a reason for that. We’ve seen it first hand, and we know that it works. Some of those hit hardest and most affected by the AIDS pandemic are those who live in poverty. Compassion is releasing children from poverty in Jesus’ name. They focus on working with a child holistically throught their local church in six areas of development in their life: mentally, emotionally, spiritually, economically, socially and physically. For $32 a month you can help a child in one of Compassion’s 25 countries to ensure that they are educated and have access to all that they need so that they not only can avoid being a victim of this disease but of all the other trappings of poverty. I have other posts here you can read to hear about just what it’s like to sponsor a child, but I want you to hear me clearly right now. If you don’t sponsor a child with Compassion, you should. It’s easy and it changes their life and will lead to lasting change in their family, community, country and eventually, the world. Do it. Please. You can, very easily, by clicking here.

2. If you already sponsor or, for whatever reason, don’t feel like you can right now, then consider giving toward’s Compassions AIDS iInitiative. I give an additional $8 a month to Compassions work to fight this disease in addition to the children I sponsor. For that little bit (which goes a much longer way than the 10 cents that would be donated to (RED) if I spent that 8 bucks on two Starbucks) I’m able to be a part of making sure that communities are educated about AIDS and that those who need treatment are able to have access to it when they wouldn’t otherwise. Incidentally, the first prority in Compassion’s AIDS initiative is to promote abstinence before marriage and faithfulness inside of marriage. So, if you’re worried about condoms being handed out all over Africa because of your 8 dollars, then consider your fears relieved. Right now they do focus this work on the continent of Africa but have plans to expand it further to all of the countries in which they work. You can find out more about this by clicking here or read a blog post about their work by clicking here or on their blog in my blogroll at the right..

3. Contact your local hospital or health clinic for information about volunteering with AIDS hospice care.

4. Pick a country in the world to which you have some connection and find out how to be inolved there. You can do so by searching the various AIDS foundations through the World AIDS Campaign website by clicking here.

5. Forward this post to someone you know who is one of those going about their day blissfully unaware. Rock their world a little bit. Enlighten them. Make it happen.

Lastly, but perhaps most importantly, I think we should pray. I’m a huge believer in prayer. I believe it actually affects change in the world. What if all of the millions of Christians were united in prayer today for God to intervene miraculously in the world with regards to eradicating AIDS? I believe He’s listening.

I know that right now a lot of different ideas are being thrown at us about how we can and should be involved with various causes around the world. That’s great, but I know that it can either be overhelming or just become part of the noise surrounding us. I also know how easy it is to become cynical about it all.

So, my hope is that you can sift through the noise and discover where your involvement can be most effective.

Thanks for reading.

Jimmy Wambua Meets His Compassion Sponsor

October 15, 2009 in Christianity, Church, Compassion, Conviction, Faith, For Real, From the Road, God, Ministry, Videos with 1 Comment

So, I promised on Monday that when video of this moment became available, I’d post it.  Well, here it is straight from Catalyst.  You might want to prepare yourself a bit.

Catalyst 2009 Compassion Moment from Catalyst on Vimeo.

Remember, you too can be a Compassion sponsor and be a part of changing a life like Jimmy’s.  To do so, click here.

Thanks.

R.I.P. Cable TV

September 28, 2009 in Conviction, Family, Let's Be Honest, Random with 7 Comments

PoltergeistGirl

This past weekend, I finally did it.  I cut off my cable.

Some of you may be thinking, “Big deal.  So, what?”  But to me it is a big deal.  In fact, I’m not sure I realized how much of a big deal it is until I actually disconnected the cable box and had my TV search for what channels I was now left with.  When the number popped up and I flipped through them, I had a physical reaction, something between nausea and heartache.  That’s the moment I knew I’d made the right decision.

You see, I watch a lot of television.  When I say “a lot,” I mean that if I’m at my house, the TV is at least on, but, chances are, I’m sitting there watching it.  Even if I’m on my computer or playing with Story or cleaning or even reading, my attention is at least split between that thing I’m doing and watching whatever’s on.  I’m too ashamed to assign a percentage to which usually wins out.

So, a while back, inspired by some other people I know, I decided to get rid of cable.  Notice I didn’t say I was losing TV completely.  No.  It’s still there.  I just installed an antennae in my attic that now basically picks up the major broadcast networks, PBS and about seven religious channels.

We’ve (Liza and I) done this before, but I honestly plan on this time being more permanent.  We don’t need cable.  We’ve still got some channels.  We’ve still got the internet.  And those things are really “needs,” but still…

The whole thing has kinda been like exorcising a demon in my life that’s been a welcome guest for far too long.  I know that sounds overly dramatic, but for me, that’s honestly what it’s been.

Anyway, if I had to put down my reasons for losing cable in list form, it would look something like the following:

1.  Save money.

2.  Free up time to do other things.

3.  Pay more attention to and spend more quality time with Liza and Story.

4.  Read more (especially my Bible).

5.  Simplify things.

6.  Increase how often I say, “there’s nothing on.”

7.  No longer be sucked in by cheesy B-movies on SyFy Saturday or anything with the suffix “of Love” in the title on VH1.

8.  Cease allowing Saved by the Bell on TBS to cut into my exercise time in the mornings.

9.  To stimulate Story through actual tangible means rather than flashing lights and loud noises.  I’ll leave that to her toys.

10.  Cut dependency on something that was never meant to be dependable.

So, there you go.

Won’t you join me?

How Could We Forget?

September 11, 2009 in Conviction, For Real, God, Life, Questions with 3 Comments

911Lights

I was sleeping.  Hard.  I’d only started Beeson a couple of weeks before and was still adjusting to how much harder it was than my undergrad plus I was working the warehouse at Event Xtras manhandling big inflatable obstacle courses and wasn’t getting along with my roommate.  Anyway, I was tired.  I’d hit the snooze button, a couple of times, I think.  My alarm started going off again, but, though I kept hitting it, the sound wouldn’t cease.  I was in a state somewhere between sleep and waking when I realized it wasn’t my alarm at all.  It was my phone.

I grabbed it wondering who in the world would be calling me so early.  It was Liza.  We were engaged at the time.  She had come to Birmingham too and was living with some relatives while looking for a job before we got married in January.  When I answered she was a little frantic, which immediately had me worried.  She just kept telling me to turn on the news, that someone had flown a plane into one of the towers of the World Trade Center.

Honestly, I was frustrated for being woken up for this.  I picture some amateur pilot who had flown a small Cessna through the city, lost control, and crashed, a tragedy to be sure, but nothing to wake me up about.  However, since she was so insistent, I got up, got off the phone and turned on CNN.

I was confused.  I couldn’t figure out what happened.  What wasn’t helping matters is that none of the anchors seemed to know much of what was going on either.  I began flipping back and forth between other news channels, and everyone was reporting different information, mostly because no one was sure what had happened at all.  Then, there was a universal pause, a brief moment of silence, as another plane entered the frame.

Reporters frantically began giving eyewitness accounts from the scene narrating what we all were watching in horror.  This second plane flew in to the other tower.

Two planes crashed into both towers of the World Trade Center?  What the hell was going on?

Over the next few hours we continued to ask that question.  We had a lot of questions, actually, but they could all be summed up with that one.  A third plane flew into the Pentagon.  People trapped in the towers above where the planes crashed began jumping, even swan diving from impossible heights.  The south tower collapsed creating a cloud of dust and debris that enveloped everything around it.  Reports came in of a fourth plane down in some field in Pennsylvania.  In the midst of the chaos following the first tower’s collapse, the north tower fell too.  News feeds that had featured footage of firemen and other rescue workers running into the buildings began reporting on their horrific loss.

What the hell was going on?

Of course, that’s exactly what was going on.

Hell.

Hell on Earth.

Our prosperous, comfortable, “Christian” pseudo-Eden of a nation was invaded by Hell.

Contrary to what some church leaders believed and even espoused on national television it wasn’t God’s judgment on us for abortion or homosexuality or greed or pornography or any other grievous sin.

It was sin.

Or the result of it.

It was the work of Evil in the world.

And we stared at it, in its eyes, for most of us in a way in which we’d never been forced to before.

At the worst, for those of us who just watched but weren’t there, it paralyzed us in helplessness, fear, and despair.

At the best it unified us together.

Of course, that was just initially.  Since then there’s been much worse results, namely war.  Lots of war.  Long war.  Costly war.  And there’s no time now to try to evaluate all the others.

But maybe, just maybe, hopefully and prayerfully, it scared the Hell out of us.

And maybe with Hell gone, we were left to turn to Heaven.

And though many of us wouldn’t find there the answers we wanted, we would find the only answer we really need.

*EDIT*

Some other friends have added posts about today.  Check out Shane’s here and Malinda’s here and Ruth’s here.

OMG RU 4 real???

August 19, 2009 in Christianity, Conviction, God, Let's Be Honest, Videos with 2 Comments

You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain, for the LORD will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain.

Deuteronomy 5:11

Ok, bear with me on this one.

When I was a kid we were taught the ten commandments (I grew up in a Christian family that attended a Southern Baptist church, traditional and conservative; what we were taught was the actual list of commandments, not the Charlton Heston movie).  It was mostly assumed that we wouldn’t be killing anyone (at least not anytime soon) and that adultery and coveting our neighbor’s wife were at the least a long ways off.  So, attention was normally focused elsewhere.  Things like “do not steal,” “do not lie” (bear false witness) and “honor your father and mother” normally received special regular attention. When it came to the commandments about God, again, there wasn’t much concern about us worshiping idols, and our parents usually saw to it that we observed the Sabbath (in so far as it involved going to church on Sundays), and we were being taught all the time that there was just one God and that His name was Jesus (they didn’t get too much into the concept of the Trinity; I guess they thought we’d be confused; whatever would give them that idea?).  So, from those first four commandments (you can find the whole list here or here), we were mainly taught to not take the name of the LORD our God in vain.

In those years, as my fellow young Christians-in-training and I wrestled with the concepts of sin and depravity we were led to understand that taking God’s name in vain was a really big deal.  Of course we were left with the question of what exactly it meant to take His name in vain.  The way we basically understood it was this: if you use God’s name in any way other than in talking directly to Him or about Him then you’re taking it in vain.  The most common way in which we had seen this sin committed was when people would use His name in either shock, anger or frustration.  You know what I mean.  “Oh, my God, I can’t believe Susan cheated on Rick with him!” (maybe it would have been okay if Susan had cheated on Rick with someone else, I don’t know) or “Jesus Christ!  Get the hell out of here!”  Something like that.  Of course, God has so many names in the Bible, but it never occurred to us to consider any of those.  We were only worried about the names we knew Him by: “God” and “Jesus” (we didn’t really count the Holy Spirit; for one thing, no one ever talked about Him much; for another, His name had an awful lot of syllables and didn’t really roll of the tongue in a way that made His name an adequate exclamation).  The worst you could do though was to combine His name with one of the dreaded curse words like “dammit.”

Below is a short bit from Bill Cosby: Himself that illustrates a bit what I’m talking about.

So, anyway, as a child we already knew that when it came to the ten commandments, at least the ones “they” really seemed to harp on, we weren’t doing too good.  Lying seemed to be a part of our DNA (though we were completely unaware of the existence of DNA at the time).  We regularly committed acts both big and small that not only didn’t honor our father and other but often outright dishonored them.  In fact, most of us had already stolen something, even if it was just the special edition Snake Eyes figure our friends had but we didn’t.

Well, since we weren’t doing too good with the rest, we all somehow collectively resigned that we would at least avoid taking our Lord’s name in vain.  It seemed pretty easy, after all.  Why?  Because we’d still say the same things.  We’d just alter them ever so slightly.  Therefore new phrases entered our regular repertoire of expressions, phrases like “oh, my gosh/goodness/gah” and “jeez” and the ever-so-popular “gosh darnit!”

This compromise worked well for us for awhile.  We were able to “sound adult” (after all, they were the ones we heard using His name in vain, not us) and yet keep a gold star beside one of the big ten and consider ourselves good Christians (or at least better than the heathens around us).  Our idyllic gosh darn life of sin-free expression fell apart, though, once we became teenagers.  It’s not because we just gave up and started talking like drunken sailors come in to port (though some of us did).  Instead it was because we became aware of a sin that had yet to have been revealed to us yet: substitute cursing.  Let me explain.

You see, for years in Christian youth ministry there was a huge emphasis on changing our behavior.  We couldn’t be like all of the other teenagers at our schools who were basically junior hedonists according to the adults.  We had to be different from them.  After all, Jesus was different from the world.  However, the weird thing is that instead of focusing on what we should do or how we should be in order to be different, the focus was instead on what all of these “lost” teenagers were doing so that we would know what we shouldn’t be doing.  We shouldn’t drink.  We shouldn’t smoke.  We shouldn’t do drugs.  We shouldn’t have sex.  We really shouldn’t make out even (dating was often up for debate too).  We shouldn’t cheat.  We shouldn’t break curfew.  We shouldn’t go to wild parties.  Etc.  Of course, included in this list was that we shouldn’t curse (or cuss, as we knew it in the South), and evidently taking the Lord’s name in vain was cursing.

However, it wasn’t enough to simply not curse.  The compromises that had kept our speech sin free for so long were now put on trial.  The reason being that just because we didn’t actually say the curse words themselves didn’t mean we weren’t cursing.  Even though we were using different words, we were still committing the same sins.

“Oh, shoot,” we thought and then realized we had just sinned by thinking “shoot” instead of what we really meant.  “What are we going to do now?”

In response to that question, a split occurred in the youth of the American Church.  Some adhered to these new guidelines.  They embraced them with the hope that they too, along with all the other rules by which we were to live, would keep them from Satan’s clutches and ensure that they stayed in God’s will and came to dwell with Him one day in Heaven for all eternity.  Others gave up completely and decided the whole church/God/Jesus/commandment thing wasn’t for them.  Many were never heard from again (others grew up, got married, had kids, and decided their kids needed all those rules they were taught and are now back in churches all over the place).

The rest of us rebelled.  This doesn’t mean that we abandoned our faith.  We didn’t.  We just saw through the bull-honkey and became cynical about almost everything we’d been taught.  You see, we realized that drinking underage was not only not a good idea but was also illegal, but the arguement that the wine Jesus and His disciples drank in their day was just grape juice didn’t hold water for us anymore.  After all, how did people get drunk on it?  Those of us who adopted the “everything but” strategy of waiting on true love realized that our sexuality was pretty awesome, but we had been led to believe that it was pretty bad, possibly evil even, and something to be avoided all together because it was flat out wrong.  We began to think that words were just words and that useage is what gave them their meaning.  Plus we weren’t too convinced that the Bibles teaching’s against cursing involved specific words that began with “F” and “S.”

Therefore, there were a lot of those rules and commandments that we kinda just stopped worrying about.  We still wanted to know God and Jesus (and even the Spirit).  We just mistrusted that we had really been taught who He was up to that point.  We believed we were somewhat on our own and, also, that we were right.  We began emerging (wink, wink).

A lot of us have grown up, though, and matured a bit.  We’ve let go of (at least some of) the bitterness we’ve carried around with us.  We’ve realized that in some instances we tossed out the baby with the bathwater and have since come around to re-exploring what really is important and sometimes being surprised at what we find.

This al now brings me back to the commandment to not take the Lord’s name in vain.  I’m no Hebrew scholar by any means, but I’ve got a couple of degrees in the Christian religion, and during my time “earning” those degrees I’ve had four full semesters devoted to the Old Testament and three to studying Hebrew.  So, I’ve looked at the Law a little bit.  One of the things I’ve learned is that when dealing with the Law there is a letter and a spirit.  In other words, there is a strict literal applicaiton of what the Law (or a law) says and then the general sense that it may more imply rather than explicitly state.

Let’s take a couple for instance: 1. “Do not murder.”  Pretty straightforward.  The letter is that you shouldn’t kill.  The spirit is that  life is valuable, yours as much as mine, and that it shouldn’t be deliberately denied one of us by the other (this is a gross over-simplification for the sake of illustration; I fully acknowledge the complex nature of what I’m talking about, this comand in particular with how it relates to circumstances of war, captial punishment, self-defense, etc.).  As followers of Christ we have been set free from the Law (Romans 8:2), but that doesn’t mean that we are not called to still adhere to its spirit (Hebrews 10, for example).  With regard to this command, though, in order to keep the spirit of the law I must adhere to the letter of the law.  2. For this one, let’s use one personal to me: Leviticus 19:28.  “Do not cut your bodies for the dead or put tattoo marks on yourselves.”  Now the letter of this law, again, is pretty straightforward, but what’s the spirit?  Well, when you study it in context you realize that the entire block of verses in which this falls is about the people of God distinguishing themselves from the nations who worshiped other gods.  As part of that worship and devotion they would often carve markings into their skin or tattoo themselves with various symbols.  Now, the spirit we are to adhere to, then, is to be about the things of God and not the things of this world or of other false gods.  Not getting a tattoo can certainly be a way in which that happens, but is it essential?  I sure don’t see that it is.

So, let’s take Deuteronomy 5:11.  In order to know the letter we have to ask what it means to take the Lord’s name in vain.  What this verse is specifically addressing is the swearing by God in the taking of an oath or the making of a vow.  The idea was that by invoking the name of a god in an agreement or promise, there would be this magical seal.  It was a way for people to assure others or persuade others.  God doesn’t like to be used like that.  In fact, one of the things God has continuously proved is that He will not be “used” or manipulated at all, hence the forbidding of trying to do so. Okay.  So, what’s the spirit?  Well, as I see it, the spirit of this law is to treat God with the reverence He deserves.  This seems to concern itself with doing this by reserving His name for its proper use (in prayer, praise, etc.) by not having it tainted through improper use.

Now, there’s never a moment when I use His name (whether seriously or flippantly) or hear it used that I don’t think of Him, however brief that thought might be.  Even when I hear His name used in a manner in which I deem it inappropriate, I’m not tainted.  Rather I think of Him and how it must pain Him.  Even if I exclaim, “oh, my God,” in shock at some situation or cry out, “Jesus, that hurt,” when stubbing my toe, my thoughts actually go to Him, though I didn’t really intend for it to be so.  Therefore the spirit and letter of this law can crossover a lot but also contain many more shades of gray than black and white.

I’ve brought this up because of the common uses of “OMG” and “OMFG” (you can figure out what “F” is, can’t you?) and other abbreviations that have become so commonplace.  Yes, it’s an example of what some pastors from my young adult years would call “substitue cursing” and I do think it’s legalistic to start nit-picking on stuff like that.  I just wonder how many people use an abbreviation like that and enver give one though to God whatsoever.

I have no prescription here, no firm stance.  The ancient Hebrews took it so seriously that they refused to even write the name of God (Yahweh) for fear of using it inappropriately (of course we haven’t even addressed the issue of which name of God we should be most concerned about; if it’s Yahweh, then nearly all of us are pretty safe).  I think that’s extreme, but I wonder if it’s not closer to the right thing than we currently are.  I don’t know.  I guess I’m just interested in sparking thought and contemplation in anyone who reads this.  Why?  Because I think it’s important.  Even if we don’t really think it is, if our cynicism or anger over legalistic rules still abounds, if we don’t see what the big deal is and wonder whether or not it really matters, I can’t help but realize one of the big ten is devoted to the issue, which I believe means that it at least matters to Him.

So, yes, I’m for real.

At the End of Slavery

August 13, 2009 in Conviction, For Real, Movies, Videos with 0 Comments

I love the IJM and what they do.  If you’re somehow unfamiliar with them, check out their site.  It won’t take you long to discover that they are the real deal and are definitely making it happen.

So, they have a new documentary coming next month called At the End of Slavery.

Check out the trailer below.

At The End Of Slavery – Extended Trailer from International Justice Mission on Vimeo.

Feed My Lambs

July 28, 2009 in Conviction, For Real, Travel with 1 Comment

When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.”

So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, 153 of them. And although there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.”

Now none of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and so with the fish.  This was now the third time that Jesus was revealed to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.”

He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.”

He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.” (This he said to show by what kind of death he was to glorify God.) And after saying this he said to him, “Follow me.”

John 21:9-19

Right off the bat, let me say that I’m not going to the exegete this passage or give a devotional or anything.  I just don’t want you to have that expectation and be disappointed.  Rather, in my short blogging hiatus, I’ve been trying to think of a way in which to talk about my latest trip to South Africa without simply giving you a play-by-play of what I did while there.  This particular Scripture passage will help me do that.

So, part of what normally happens when I go this time of year is I help my parents and whoever else is over there host a day camp for kids.  The first year I went the camp I helped with was at a place called Refilwe.  The past few years we’ve been at a school in the Mamelodi township in partnership with Berakah Educational Foundation.  Now, at both Refilwe and in Mamelodi we are working with what most would definitely consider to be “the least of these,” poverty stricken children.  Being able to serve these kids each year is a highlight for me, to say the least.  I expected nothing less this year.

Once I arrived and was sitting down with my parents to kinda hear their plan, we decided what I would do is work in the kitchen each day cooking the lunch for the kids except on the third day of the camp.  The focus for that day was to be on “salvation,” and it was decided that I’d teach the Bible study for everyone (they rotate through stations during the day, so I’d teach the same Bible study four or five different times).  Now, I got more excited about this assignment than any I’d had in previous years.  Why?  Mainly because of the passage above.

You see, there’s obviously a connection between loving Jesus and caring for His “sheep,” His people, His children.  This was most definitely true for Simon Peter and I believe it’s true for us as well.  Now, I don’t think that means Jesus was calling Peter to be a chef or anything.  However, when He said “feed my lambs,” He was doing so have just previously literally prepared and offered His followers a breakfast.  Now, at this year’s camp, I was going to have the opportunity to “feed” the kids both physically and spiritually.  What a responsibility!  What an opportunity!  What an honor and privilege!

However, this year’s camp I was helping with wasn’t at Refilwe or Mamelodi.  This particular camp was being hosted at a school in Atteridgeville.  The school is a private Christian school.  Many of the kids who go there are scholarshipped, but many are not as well.  Atteridgeville has some very poor areas and can be pretty rough, but it also has a large middle-class population.  So, there were a lot of kids there who had cell phones and talked about their computers and some who had even been to the States and visited Disneyland.  Also, since so many of them attend a Christian school. they had a lot of the “answers,” at least to the basics.

Now, let me be perfectly open and honest with you for a moment.  Since this was the case, I was kinda not as into it, I don’t think.  I mean it’s one thing to spend all morning cooking for some kids who might not have another meal that day.  It’s quite another to do so for kids who get picky about what you give them and even whine when it’s not something they really like.  It’s one thing to present the Gospel to someone who’s never heard the name of Jesus before or has a very warped understanding of who He is.  It’s quite another to try to do so to a roomful of kids who are either bored listening because they’ve heard it all many times before or who won’t let you hardly get a word out because they want to tell the story for you.

Or is it?

I found myself thinking that it’s two different things, but I forced myself to acknowledge that it’s not.  Fixing lunch and teaching the Bible to the poor makes me feel good because I see their need so easily.  Even the smallest morsels of food or knowledge that I have to offer are way more than they could dream of.  So, it’s easy for me to help them.  And this makes me feel really good, like I’m really doing something and doing something big.  But this year… well, this year was different.  Their “need” wasn’t as apparent.  Doest that mean it wasn’t there?  No.  Not at all.  But it was different.  I didn’t feel as good because it wasn’t as easy and what I had to offer didn’t stretch as far.  In fact, for me to make the same kind of impact actually required more from me, more giving, more compassion, more sacrifice.  I was still feeding lambs, but it took more for me to do it, which was actually good.

I won’t assume right now to speak for anyone else, though I think I could.  Instead, I’ll just speak for myself.  I go on these trips every year, sometimes with Servant Life or Compassion, other times just because I want to.  I go to serve, to do “God’s work,” to help the “least of these,” and I’m right to do so.  For sure.  No doubt about it.  And I’m pretty good at it… at the very least I “help” more than the average American.  That’s what I tell myself, anyway.  But when it comes to helping those I don’t perceive as “the least of these,” whoever and wherever they might be (though I have to admit, most of those I don’t see that way are the people I’m surrounded by all the time in my own country), I’m one of the worst.  I don’t serve them well at all.  Sure, I can come up with excuses and even some legitimate reasons as to why… but that’s all just hot air.

Jesus asks, “do you love me?”

I reply, “Lord, you know I love you.”

Jesus says, “feed my sheep.”

He doesn’t put any qualifiers on it, for the rich or the poor.

Why do I?

Extra Baggage… And Lots Of It

July 1, 2009 in Conviction, For Real, Health with 19 Comments

First, thanks to those of you who had some reading suggestions for me.  Between here and Facebook I think I’ve got some really interesting books to look into.  If you’ve got some others, please feel free to leave them in the comments section of yesterday’s post.  I’ll let you know later what I go with.

Now, on to today’s post…

If you follow me on Twitter or are a friend of mine on Facebook (I’m sure most of you do or are), then you know that I started feeling sickly the other day.  Since I’ve got an international trip quickly approaching, I wanted to knock out whatever was going on with me.  So I went to the doctor.  I don’t always immediately go to the doctor.  I don’t particularly enjoy doing so for a number of reasons.  Usually I see if I can’t treat my sickness myself with OTC stuff, plenty of fluids and lots of vitamin C.  Anyway, however, this time I went to the doctor.

As I’m sure you all know, one of the first things they do when you visit the doctor is measure some of your vitals.  This might include, but not be limited to, your temperature, your blood pressure, your pulse, your height and… your weight.  Now, I’m a big guy.  I know.  But I haven’t always been.  I’ve never been particularly skinny (though during a particularly dark time in high school, I kinda stopped eating a lot and dropped to about 135 lbs.), but I spent the majority of my life at least at an average weight and decently healthy.  Over the past, I’d say, eight years or so, that has ceased to be the case.  I’ve progressively put on more and more weight.  The problem for me, though, is since I haven’t been a heavy/overweight/obese/fat guy for most of my life, I don’t feel like one.  In other words, I never really think about or realize how big I’m getting or have gotten until I’m forced to stare it in the face.

This has been happening more and more lately.  First, a lot more pictures of me have been popping up.  This is mainly because of Story.  People want to take pictures of Story, and since I’m probably holding her half the time I end up being in a lot of those pictures.  Then I see those pictures and think, “what have I become?” Second, my belt has started rubbing a sore on the front of my belly where my gut hangs over it while I sit at my desk all day.  This sore hurts.  A lot.  So, either I endure the pain or stop wearing a belt.  I’m a pansy.  So, I’ve stopped wearing a belt.  This means that my pants are always falling down.  You wouldn’t think this was the case since, you know, I’ve got a big gut.  However, the big gut serves to push my pants down rather than keep them up.  So, now I’m one of those big dudes who’s either always pulling his pants up or revealing too much to the world around him.  Third, I had to get weighed at the doctor yesterday.  My weight typically fluctuates, not a lot, but in a range of about ten pounds.  If you had asked me yesterday how much I weighed, I would have estimated around 270 lbs., definitely not light.  When I stepped on that scale, I couldn’t believe my eyes.  290!!!! That means I’ve not yet reached the dreaded 300, but it’s still absolutely ridiculous and embarrassing.

It’s time to stop the insanity!

For one thing, I’m just not healthy and that’s not good.  For another, I have a daughter that I’m sure is going to be a very active little girl once she gets moving around.  I want to keep up with her and be able to play with her and run around and all that kind of stuff.  Also, I think my obesity is mostly the result of sin in my life… gluttony… laziness… etc.  Then I want to look good for Liza, and there’s also the fact that there’s a lot of things I want to do with my life.  I want to have a long life in order to do all of them (God willing).

I’ve known things have needed to change for awhile and have genuinely wanted them to do so.  I’ve tried a number of popular weight loss techniques with catchy names that worked, but then when I stopped adhering to the strict (and, frankly, absurd) rules I ballooned back up.  So, I’ve known it would take a true change in lifestyle.  I’ve been implementing small changes over the past few months.  Drinking a lot more water.  Cutting out most soda.  Eating smaller portions.  Introducing some exercise.  Making better decisions about what I eat.  Limiting fried food.  Etc.  However, the small things, while good introductory steps, just aren’t cutting.  It’s time for big things.  I don’t know what those are, exactly, but I’m working on figuring it out.

I also know myself well enough to understand that left to my own devices, I won’t do much.  It’s too easy for me to convince myself to not excercise for whatever reason or why that large blizzard is okay “just this once” even though I know it won’t be just this once.  So, a major part of this journey is going to be accountability.  That’s where you can come into the picture if you want.

1. I give any and all of you full permission to call me out.  Ask about what I’m eating, how much I’m exercising, what my plans are, how things are going.  All of that.  I won’t promise to always like it, but I will give my word to always answer you honestly.  I just ask that you do so with the purpose of being encouraging and not amusing yourself with my struggle (I know how much you all love schadenfreude).

2. If you are in a similar position as mine, maybe you’d like to join me on my quest.  We can work out some things to do together as part of our plans.  Just let me know.

3.  Maybe you have suggestions on the major changes I should make.  Again, I’m not looking for the latest trends, a quick fix or something like that.  I’m looking for a new way to live.  This type of change doesn’t come easy and will have to happen over time whether than all at once.  So, keep that in mind.  You might also want to know that I’m not an early riser, I’m a pretty busy guy, running is not something I particularly enjoy doing and I have a wicked sweet tooth.  I’m not saying I’m not willing to change/adjust/adapt any or all of those things.  I’m just painting you a picture of where I currently am.

4. I’ll be putting regular updates of how I’m doing on this blog and elsewhere for the world to see.

5.  Here’s the big one.  My goal is to lose 50 lbs. in six months.  That’s not a small goal, nor is it an unachievable one.  I’m going to take the month of July to continue with my small steps, develop a plan and strategy and then start my six month journey on August 1.  That would mean that if I achieve my goal I will have lost fifty pounds by January 31.  If I do not achieve that goal I am going to pay $50.00 (that’s one dollar per pound) to anyone who comments on this post here on this blog (not on Facebook) in the next week (by July 8).  Come on people, my failure could be your profit.  If I achieve my goal, you owe me nothing other than a simple “congrats” and “job well done.”

So there you go.

Who’s with me?

Church Is Not A Palindrome, Part 3

June 23, 2009 in Church, Conviction, Faith, God, Let's Be Honest with 0 Comments

First, a brief (hopefully) intro to this post:

I’ve written about church before and the struggle I’ve experienced over the past few years to find a local body of believers to be a part of. It wasn’t the finding a local church that was the problem. I live in the deep South, and there are literally hundreds of churches within my area that I could have joined. The problem was finding a church that I liked. Though saying it that way makes it sound much more shallow than it is. It wasn’t that I wanted to find a preacher that I liked or music that I liked or a small group or somewhere with a cool children’s program or something like that. It was really that I had grown pretty disillusioned with church because of some experiences that I had, and every church I visited seemed to have something really wrong with it that I perceived as a reason not to go there. Anyway, you can find those other posts elsewhere.

Now, on to the post:

The good news? I have found a church. I’ve actually only been to it three times. So, I think it’s doubly good that I’m even to now say that I consider myself a part of it. I haven’t officially joined yet (I’m sure we will, soon; you know how summer is), but I’m glad we’re going there. The church is Westwood Baptist Church.

If you knew me really well, and I tasked you to find a church for me, I doubt you would have picked Westwood. Most people I tell that’s where I’m going now seem genuinely surprised. If I had just looked at it without actually going, I probably would have stayed away. This isn’t because there’s something wrong with Westwood. It’s more that you probably would have thought that I would have found something I considered to be wrong with it. And it’s not necessarily that I haven’t. So, why am I going there?

Two reasons.

1. I get a sense of genuineness and that goes a long way with me.

2. I’ve matured a bit and gotten over myself.

The past few years have been some intense times of growth for me in a number of areas. But all of that growth has constituted a season of life during which I’ve realized how much ego I have and how I have to constantly battle against that ego daily. When it comes to church this meant that I came to a point where I knew I needed a church home and where I knew that the major obstacle to me finding a church home wasn’t the churches but was actually my own ego. I was looking for things that were wrong instead of the things that were right. To expect a church to be perfect is ridiculous. To not be willing to be a part of the solutions to problems is selfish. So, I picked a church. Liza picked the same one. It only took one visit on one Sunday, and we’re in. It feels great.

It feels right.

This past Sunday, Les, the pastor, was preaching about personal responsibility. He’s been doing this whole series of sermons on “Lost Words,” which are basically character traits that are biblical and Godly but that our society doesn’t seem to value much anymore (if they ever did in the first place). Personal responsibility is one of those lost words. The sermon was good, but not like the most earth-shattering thing you’ve ever heard. He was preaching from a passage I’m familiar with, 2 Samuel 15. It’s where David and his army are fleeing from Absalom. David tells Zadok the priest to return the Ark of the Covenant to the city because he’s not going to rely on it like some good luck charm. Instead, he’s going to leave things in God’s hands and face whatever consequences the Lord deems he deserves.

Anyway, like I said, it was good and Liza and I were listening intently, but at the end, there was just a brief moment that I’m sure many other people paid no attention to, where Les slapped me in the face (obviously, not literally). In fact, I have a good sense that God prompted him to say this in particular just for me. Here’s what it was.

Les was pretty much finished with the actual sermon part and was leading a kind of decision time so that people could respond to what they had heard. He was challenging all of us to take personal responsibility for things in our own lives and then he began asking what those things might be. Were there things we blamed coworkers for or our spouses for or our children for or the economy or the government or our culture, etc.? Then came the clencher when he said:

“Is there something in your life that’s your responsibility but for which you’ve been blaming the church?”

Talk about hitting home. I realized in that moment, sitting there in this church I had decided to become a member of, the journey that God had been taking me on to heal me and change me and transform me. I’ve been so pissed at Him and so many others along the way because things weren’t going like I thought they should when all along I was the one not going the way I should. But He never gave up on me or abandoned me.

For that I’ll always be thankful to Les and to Westwood and, ultimately, to God, Himself, Whom I’ll be worshipping on Sundays with my new church family.

This may not make a lot of sense to you. I realize that. But it makes perfect sense to me.

So there you go.

Lookin’ Good for Jesus

June 18, 2009 in Christianity, Conviction, God, Random, Sarcasm with 2 Comments

I own a bobble-head Jesus. It was a gift. So, I didn’t buy it, but I do like it. However, in my most reverent and/or legalistic moments I feel bad for having it ’cause of a combination of no-graven-image and taking-the-Lord’s-name-in-vain. I’m able to see some humor in it, though. But this might be a bit much. Never purchase this for Story… please.

LG4J

I also own a bobble-head Jerry Falwell, but I never feel bad about that.

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