Stacey and I attend a small group Bible study on Sunday nights. It is a group that is young (ranging in age from 18-30), educated (several are still in college, one recent graduate with a PhD), middle to upper class, and white. In short, it is a fairly typical glimpse into a group of Generation X’ers from the church of Christ. At least from the outside looking in.

Now our group has had good discussion and Bible study throughout the year. As with anything, some nights have gone better than others. But this past Sunday we shared 20-30 minutes of conversation that was downright explosive. In the best way possible.

The right questions were being asked. Cliche answers were left out of the conversation. Tough scenarios were laid out as necessary possibilities to Christ following in this world. Accountability was invited. Status quo was scoffed at. It was really good stuff. It was dangerous for everyone there. And I think it’s in those dangerous moments that we get a glimpse of the kingdom of God.

There was NOTHING easy, safe, clean, insulated, or cliche about the life that Jesus lived. He was a radical, poor, homeless vagabond. He lived in constant danger. Physically, politically, and socially. That was his life.

And it has to be ours if we take Jesus seriously. And it all starts with dangerous conversations.

“The predominant atmosphere of the [Lord's] supper in the contemporary church is an altar mentality. The church usually approaches the supper with penance and confession of sin. We come to the ‘altar’ with our guilt and remorse, or we come to the ‘altar’ with deep introspection. We are encouraged to think about the death of Christ, especially its pain and gore…No one talks while they eat and drink. No one looks up but everyone prays with a bowed head, and certainly no one looks anyone else in the eye…We still use the language of “table,” but we practice it as an altar.

But the table metaphor is more than figurative language.  It was a real table as Christians gathered for a meal where they shared themselves and their food in the presence of the living host. The table, as a meal, was an interactive event where people talked with each other and “fellowshipped” each other. They not only shared food, but they shared their lives. Rather than private introspection, the table was a public, expressive and communal event.  Rather than approached in penance, sorrow and remorse, people experienced the table with joy and peace. Table was more about eating and drinking with the risen Lord than it was a gruesome remembrance of the death of Christ…The table celebrates victory.” 

From John Mark Hick’s Come To The Table.

I was deeply blessed by our graduation banquet last night at church.   I had been so busy trying to get every detail together that I probably forgot what the night was really about: three young men, all headed in different directions in life, each being sent off into the world with the blessing and support of our church family.

The part of our evening that touched me the most was the hour that dozens of people stood up and spoke words of love, faith, courage, hope, passion, and blessing to our graduates.  It was a powerful reminder of the importance of community. It was authentic, genuine, and spirit filled. It was good.  It was God.

I went on a field trip with Stacey’s class yesterday to the Blue Bell Factory in Brenham. 60 third graders. Sweet, sweet children. It was a lot of fun to watch their amazement as they learned how the the ice cream is made, how fast the machines and people can package it, and how much of it is made every single day.

It was a lot of fun for these kids just to be able to be kids for a day and sit outside on a bench and eat ice cream. It’ s the kind of moment many of these kids rarely get to have at home. 95% of the kids with us yesterday were from low-income homes where food, let alone ice cream, is far from a guarantee.

And I wonder what will happen to these precious kids as they get older. I wonder where they will end up in life. I know what the statistics say. And it’s not very favorable. More of these kids will find themselves in gangs, prison, and teen pregnancy than will graduate from high school.

So what exactly is it that happens between ice cream cones on a bench and turning 18 years old?

And how can I stop it?

And will the church help me do so?

I found Jesus several times yesterday:

I found him over lunch with an old friend and future mentor. I found him in the way this friend affirmed me, the way he listened to me, and the way he drove an hour each way for lunch during what is likely one of the busiest weeks of his life.

I also found him in the 6 women that spent almost three hours helping me set up for our graduation banquet last night at church. I found him in their selflessness to be there, their resounding laughter, and the love they poured into making sure every detail was perfect. I found him when I realized these ladies do stuff like this ALL THE TIME and most people never even know it.

Where have you found Jesus lately?

Every single time I spend time with my mom I find Jesus.

I see him in her thoughtful notes, her deep concern for others, the thankless meals she prepares for 15 or 20 of our family, her willingness to help anyone I meet that needs something, her frugality in checking out books from the library, her thoughtfulness in always making sure there is a vegetarian option for me to eat, her sweet smile, the way she prays for her children, a heart that answers nursing (in both senses of the word) questions anytime and anywhere, her not nailing our butts to the floor, her obvious love for my dad and the kindness they always show one another, her sense of humor, and the way she honors every person she meets as being important.

Love you mom. Happy Mother’s Day!

I’m headed to Waco this morning to root for one of my youth group kids in the TAPPS State semi-final game.

What a job! I get to hang out with his family on the way there and back and cheer him on as he plays. Doesn’t get much better than that…getting paid to watch baseball

I am continually blessed by children. Their smiles, honesty, laughter, and generosity. Over the last few weeks, I have been able to work with three small children at the local homeless shelter. I haven’t gotten much of their story because their mother is very private, but I have sure loved my time with those kids. We laugh, we play, we tease, we run, we just enjoy being around each other.

And that’s important to me because I don’t know how much fun these children have in life. I doubt there are many days that they just get to be kids. But for at least one day each week their stomachs are filled with food and even a little dessert. They get to laugh instead of cry. And that is at least a start.

Now we just have to find a way to make sure they are not back with their kids in a few years.

After hurting my knee a few months ago, I am finally back to running a little more regularly.  My run this morning took me past several familiar places that I have run before.  But I was also aware of several new faces and places as I ran.  And I was reminded that I really don’t have to travel very far to journey with some of my friends here in the community.

In a forty-five minute run, I passed the following people/things:

1) Prison

2) 3 schools

3) Several people walking dogs

4) Several dogs walking themselves

5) Numerous kids waiting for the school bus.

6) Several HUD housing areas

All of this within just minutes of my house.  What a blessing! What a challenge!

God teach me to love my neighbor.  And forgive me when I go years without ever interacting with my friends right down the street.  Amen.

Remember when Forrest Gump gave the world that little gem that “stuff happens”? He was right. And I believe that sentiment can play out in many different areas of life.

One thing I have learned is that ruts happen. Sometimes you just get into a funk. The breaks don’t seem to go your way. You hear criticism 10 times louder than you do praise. Nothing seems to happen like you planned it. You know what I’m talking about. But one thing I am learning is that these times just happen. Bad days are just a part of the ebb and flow of life. And it is only these times that can help us appreciate when things go well.

This too shall pass, they say. And I believe it. Heck, I’m counting on it.