about the search (rambling)

I think it's safe to say that everything we do in life is about the search. We all have those days where we feel like there's more, like we're destined for more, like we're only seeing such a small, insignificant part of the whole. It's an aching we have for something more, something beyond just ourselves. I've been trying to assuage the burning with ministry. It's painfully clear that the passion God's given me is to love and mentor youth. I can honestly say that in the past year and a half, the only relationships I've actively and consistently invested in are those: relationships with youth. Ministry revives me, ignites me. Loving on youth hurts a lot of the time, but it's the only thing worth it. It's what gives my life purpose, my toils meaning. But it's so damn lonely.

I realized the problem with only living for ministry, with my only investments being in youth, is that it's often a one-way street. Yes, nothing pours into me like when one of my students offers a simple "thanks" or a youth tells me "I'm praying for you," but it's still one-sided because they can never pour back into me to the extent that I need it. A sage pointed out this phenomenon to me, and in retrospect it seems so obvious. I have such a fire to let youth know they belong to someone, to something, that they're loved and valued, but there's no one doing that for me.

This is quickly turning into a self-pity post, so I'll shift the perspective slightly. Freshman and Sophomore year of college, I had a small group--a group of about 8ish guys that became family to me. We were a brotherhood, and for the first time, I lived within the context of a community of accountability and love and support. When that group disbanded, to bandage my hurt, I quit investing in college friendships, and instead I invested in youth, striving to be the mentor I've always longed for and felt I needed. And now, so often, I find myself feeling lonely.

It's not always. It's usually just when I sit down. Most of the day, I'm running from one thing to another, working on one thing so I can move on to the next. It's when I sit, when the busyness stops, that I realize how alone I am, how alone I've made myself. Yes. I'm being dramatic. But seriously, you have met me, right? The point is, I feel like I don't have anyone or any group to belong to, not like I used to have, and that's tough. Some days I feel like I'm trying to clean another's wounds, all the while I can't stop bleeding. I'm meant to be communal, to need other people, and it's time I stop keeping people out. I try to always parage around and carry a spirit of joy, but that's such a surface-level Keith. I know if I'm going to make it, then I have to start letting more people in.

I Want Your Help! :)

As a follow-up to my last post, I've talked around, and apparently there's a huge need at some local men's and women's shelters for good clothes. The majority of the clothes available at the shelter are old, out-of-style, and very worn. Our brothers and sisters need good clothes, name-brand clothes, clothes they will be proud of. Clothes the kids can wear to school and not look like they live in a shelter. Clothes the adults can wear to job interviews and end this cycle of homelessness.

I want your help. With every passing day and every new prayer, God changes my heart a little bit more, and it's a little bit easier to give away my things. I want to invite you to join me on this journey of fulfillment and love. Let's not be marked by materialism and greed with the logos and labels on our clothes. Let's give away that Polo and Calvin Klein, and let's live like Jesus.

I'm going this friday, and we can go anytime we want. Come with me to the shelter and let's give our clothes away. Let's meet the people that need them, and let's show them a love that weighs more than poverty.

Sacrifice

I'm reading through The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne. Highly recommend, by the way. He's part of a movement called New Monasticism. It's fairly new and known for its 12 marks:

1) Relocation to the abandoned places of Empire.

2) Sharing economic resources with fellow community members and the needy among us.

3) Hospitality to the stranger.

4) Lament for racial divisions within the church and our communities combined with the active pursuit of a just reconciliation.

5) Humble submission to Christ’s body, the church.

6) Intentional formation in the way of Christ and the rule of the community along the lines of the old novitiate.

7) Nurturing common life among members of intentional community.

8) Support for celibate singles alongside monogamous married couples and their children.

9) Geographical proximity to community members who share a common rule of life.

10) Care for the plot of God’s earth given to us along with support of our local economies.

11) Peacemaking in the midst of violence and conflict resolution within communities along the lines of Matthew 18.

12) Commitment to a disciplined contemplative life.

There's some good stuff in this movement. Its advocates are really doing what Jesus says--they're leaving their families, finding the hungry and the alone, and being Jesus. They're selling their possessions, giving to the poor, and living in community.

One of the quotes I read in the book is by Dorothy Day: "If you have two coats, one of them belongs to the poor."

God really convicted me when I read this. Putting down the book, I walked over to my closet and, including hoodies, counted ten coats. Ten! Recognizing my own entrapment in capitalism and this consumeristic society, realizing that I have way too much and that those who have nothing can have if people like me share, seeing that materialism has been a blind spot in my faith, I'm changing. I'm making an active and intentional choice to be different. And that means not only changing my lifestyle but also being proactive in doing something about the poverty and hunger that thrives in this world.

I took out all the clothes in my closet and my dresser (I have two different places to store all of my clothes!) and let my own guilt over my materialism slowly sift out half of my clothes. Half my t-shirts, shorts, pants, shoes, and coats, all are no longer mine. I resolved to take them to the local homeless shelter as soon as I had a free-day from classes.

My friend Shannon, who recommended The Irresistible Revolution to me, is now doing the same thing, choosing to share the abundance we've been given with the poor and the naked. You have to check out her thoughts on all this--so illuminating. She makes an excellent point about the purpose of sacrifice, how its value isn't inherent but rather can be a reflection of something greater happening internally.

I ran across this verse in my Bible this week: "You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise" (Psalms 51:16-17). Well crap. If sacrificing my clothes isn't going to please God, but rather the condition of my spirit, then I have a long way to go. Remember I said I had ten coats and decided to give away half? That still leaves me with five. Five! What do I need five different coats for?!

I've got to give away and do a lot more before I have a broken spirit.

The Cost of Discipleship

I heard a sermon by Dr. Williams, one of the religion professors here at Gardner-Webb. At the end of his sermon, he brought up The Great Commission where Jesus sends out his disciples. Dr. Williams said that if you look back at the original Greek manuscripts, there's only one imperative verb in all of that passage; it isn't "go," and it isn't "teach," and it isn't "baptize"--it's "make disciples."

Jesus traveled and preached to masses, he healed people and ministered to individuals, he gave people purpose and hope, but none of this was his primary ministry. Jesus' primary ministry was to his disciples. Everywhere he went, everything he did, his 12 disciples were always shadowing him, watching him, learning from him, being changed by him. Jesus ministered to thousands, but his primary investment was in 12 men. Through those 12 men, Jesus created a revolution; and now, above all else, his one imperative command to all of us is to make disciples.

A lot of people go their entire lives asking the question, "What is my purpose?" I think Jesus answers that right here. Make disciples. Of course, this will look differently for us all, but for me, it looks like high schoolers. I'm trying to completely surrender my life to this aim of making disciples, and I won't lie: I hate not being able so see results sometimes, and I hate feeling like I'm giving my everything and it's not making a difference. Make disciples. It's hard. It's painful. It's changing my life, and I'm realizing that it's when I'm trying to disciple others that I'm opening myself up to be truly discipled myself.

A couple days ago, I picked up one of the guys I'm trying to disciple, and we went to Yamatos to have dinner together, to talk one-on-one, for me to encourage him, for me to invest in him. We mostly laughed and joked about everything from school to sports to girls. We also talked about searching for God everyday and how to live for Christ. During our time together, I talked about what God's been teaching me and I discussed the verse I've been meditating on, which we actually memorized together right there in the restaurant (John 8: 31-32, "If you follow my teachings, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."). We talked about how obedience precedes knowledge and understanding, even freedom, and that ultimately it's our obedience, what we're actually doing, that counts for something (for a better look at this verse, check out Shannon's super insightful and enriching blog). He sits and listens while I rant. He talks and questions. He makes stupid jokes that bring us back to the mundane and the crass.

Before we met, I spent all day praying and being with God. Dare I say it, I even skipped a class because I felt God nudging me to, reminding me how little time I've spent with Him/Her, reminding me how much S/He's worth it. Reminding me how much the people I'm discipling are worth it. I'm not just investing in myself when I spend intentional, focused, one-on-one time with God; I'm investing in everyone I come in contact with. After we met, I spent the rest of my day alone, neglecting my homework and praying for him, asking God to draw him and transform him and renew him and use him.

The cost of discipling was $20 that night (homeboy ordered freaking steak and shrimp! haha). It cost me several good nights of sleep (since I had to spend the next few nights making up for that skipped class and a day's worth of academic unproductivity (this should be a real word)). It costs me a lot of aching (the more I pray for these guys, the more I have this soft and constant aching, almost a hurting). It costs me my precious free-time and college friend-time and so much. But heck, it's the only thing worth it. And it changes me. I find I'm more encouraged, and I feel more love, and I have more of a hunger and drive to search for God, and I'm a better person. I'm more complete. Somehow, discipling disciples me.

Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. Then Jesus came to them and said, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." Matthew 28: 16-20

Get Over Yourself! (thanks Stephanie Richey for this title)

There's too much I want to do. There's always homework--I'm in the middle of my thesis, and so there's always work I want (yes want) to be doing on that. There's always some friend doing something awesome that I want to be a part of. There's always something fun happening on campus, and I want to do it all.

But right now, I want to get over myself more. I want to say no to watching movies with friends and doing stupid stuff and having fun, and I want to start changing this world. I will not lie about this. It's hard because if I leave and go do that, then I'm missing out on all these fun things my friends are doing.

But it's time I get over myself. It's time I say no to more things, and it's time I start being intentional about serving in this community.

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after the orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." (James 1:27)

Let's believe this and go.

All of our tracks and our ten percents and our sermons and our bible studies and our fellowships and our worship music just aren't going to feed people, and they're not going to change this world. Relationships will. Serving will.

It's time for our teachers and our nurses and our pastors and our hair dressers and our mechanics and our students and our everyone to step up and start looking for ways to serve. Start pursuing ways to build relationships with the hurting. Start being church, rolling up our sleeves, and getting dirty.

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I stole this from a Buddhist priest's blog (thestupidway.blogspot.com if you're interested). It's worth reposting (I know I just did that in my last blog post too, but I swear it's good stuff).

“Someone once had a dream in which she asked God to show her heaven and hell. God agreed and first of all brought the person to a dining room that had two tables, one on either side of the room. There were all sorts of delicious food stacked up on the two tables, and there were a lot of hungry people sitting next to the tables trying to eat the food. They could only eat the food by using chopsticks. But the problem was that the chopsticks were about two meters long. And because the chopsticks were so long it was impossible for anyone to pick up the food with the chopsticks and then put the food into his mouth. So everyone was very unhappy and frustrated and dissatisfied because they had all this great food in front of them, but was unable to eat it. God said, ‘This is hell.’ Next, God brought the person to another dining room that looked exactly like the first room. Just like in the first room, there were two tables on either side that were covered with all sorts of delicious food. People were sitting next to the tables, and had the same kind of long chopsticks as in the first room. But the people in this room were all happy and smiling and cheerful. When the person looked closely, she saw that the people in this room weren’t trying to use the chopsticks to pick up the food and put it into their own mouths. Instead, they were using the chopsticks to pick up the food and put the food into the mouth of someone else on the other side of the room. It was easy to use the long chopsticks for that, and everyone could eat plenty that way. God told the person, ‘This is heaven.’”

The Defeated Prostitute I Didn't Talk To

Across the street, two prostitutes were talking to eachother. To my left were three guys chilling on the curb, clearly drunk and still drinking. To my right was another prostitute. Looking back, I guess it was pretty dangerous for a gringo like myself to be all alone with my nice clothes and bookbag on this poorly lit street at 11:00 at night, waiting for the last bus because I didn't realize I had just mised it. I suppose I should have listened to my mama tica.

I was travelling back to San Jose after visiting my family from last year. My mama tica said I should take a taxi when I get off the 2nd bus in San Jose. The late buses are unpredictable. Also, it's really dangerous, especially in the part of downtown San Jose where my bus stop is. Yeah well, I didn't feel like paying the extra money for a taxi, so I walked the half a mile to the bus stop (like I said before, unaware that the last bus had already come). I can honestly say I've never seen so many prostitutes in my life--and the occassional transvestite. I've definitely never had that many prostitues yell at me, stroke my shoulders as they walked by, talk all sorts of vulgar to me, telling me what they could do for such and such a price. My mama tica flipped out when she found out that I had been in that part of town at night and had waited at the bus stop for 30 minutes alone before finally acquiescing to the taxi.

In retrospect, she was right and I should have been afraid. It was clearly dangerous, especially for a rich white boy. However, at the time, the whole scene depressed me too much for me to be afraid. I remember this one girl. She was on the street corner right near where I was waiting. With her heavy makeup and long hair, she was wearing black boots, a black thong, and a black bra--I'm not making this up. But unlike the other girls (and dudes...) I saw that night, she didn't say anything as I walked by; she didn't yell anything as I stood mere steps away from her; she didn't show off her body like the other girls, despite her lack of clothing. Rather, her shoulders bent in, as if she was trying to hide, and she never once looked up from her feet, so I never got to see her face. I'd give her maybe 15 years of age. I remember thinking how defeated she looked.

What would Jesus have done if he had been walking down those streets and seen those same prostitutes? I have no clue. All I know, is that I felt so hopeless. Who was doing something about this?! Where do we even begin to change all this?

Here in Costa Rica, there's a ministry called Renacer, and it's doing something about this. In a way, this ministry catches girls before they get to points like prostitution. Funcioning as a children's home, girls from ages 11-18 come and live here. Every girl is coming out of an addiction of some sort, so heavy therapy occurs. Many girls go through violent withdrawals, and most need therapy for some sort of crime commited against them in life--mostly sexual and physical abuse. Most of these girls haven't been in school in years. When they come to Renacer, they find a home, a family, and God.

Hugging one of the girls before I left, I couldn't help but notice the scars on top of scars of past ripped flesh on her forearms. I found out that Renacer found this girl in jail, at 15 years old, for having almost beaten someone to death. With an intense history of sexual abuse, this girl first came to Renacer after living on the streets and having heavy drug addictions. But the other day as I watched her sing in the choir for worship, I didn't see any of that. Yes, you can see layers of scars all over her arms, but you can't see the same defeat and brokenness she used to carry. Instead, you see a girl with such a big smile, you wonder how she can manage to sing. Instead, you see a girl that reads Bible verses to other illiterate girls during the bi-weekly chapel services. Instead, you see a girl full of joy, constantly serving; because someone has put her first in life, has believed in her, has loved her like she deserves to be loved. She's almost 18 now, and still has a few more years before she'll finish high school, but she'll finish, and then she'll go on to college. "Who knows, maybe I'll work with girls like me one day," she says.

And so I remind myself: one person at a time.

Silly boy, Jesus doesn't mean it...

Ah shit. I almost forgot. When Jesus says, "You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me," (Luke 18: 22), what he means is you must be willing to give up everything. He means that you must figuratively give up everything, meaning it's okay to have stuff, just make sure you tithe and go to church and God's first in your life. It's so easy. I can't believe I almost forgot.

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I've mentioned before that I go with Don Horacio occassionally and help out with the homeless ministry. Well, I went again, and it was powerful! I made such a lasting difference in this world for Jesus! I handed out cups of coffee and water and sandwiches! I sang my heart out and clapped so everyone could hear these worship songs to Jesus! I hugged those stinky alcoholics and drug addicts and told them that Jesus loves them! Oh, and guess what happened...a homeless man came up to me and asked me to pray for him! He told me that it was his first time ever coming to this park and seeing what we do here! He said it's the first time he's seen Christians do something like this! He asked if I would tell him why I'm here helping them when I could be in the states! He questioned who is this Jesus guy! He explained all about his addictions and his problems with his family and how he's been on the streets since he was a kid and how he has this woman that he's in love with but she's crazy and so addicted that she'll run off with anyone for just a quick fix and how gosh this sandwich is amazing and this coffee tastes so good! And he asked if I could pray for him and the woman he's in love with, that God will prove He can not just handle all this but make it better! And we hugged and prayed and hugged again, and it was awesome, because I'm being obedient to God and loving people!!!

A different man came up to me. I counted 3 toes through his shoes and 4 teeth behind his beard. Pleading with me through the damaged, glazed eyes of alcoholism, he asked me for my shoes. "I sleep on cardboard, mae. I only have this one pair of shoes, and you can see they don't serve shit. It's the rainy season, so they're constantly getting wet and giving me blisters. You come here because you're a Christian, right? See I knew God would send me a new pair of shoes."

Uhhhhhhhh....yeeeaaaaah....

Don Horacio, his wife, and a couple other missionaries were right there with me. They redirected the man back to the coffee line. I thought about it for a couple minutes, and decided. The way of Jesus isn't supposed to be easy. We're called to come and die, not live comfortably. Giving a pair of shoes is the least I can do. I slipped off the shoes and started walking barefoot over to the man. Immediately, 3 missionaries surrounded me, deterring me from my mission. "You can't give him those shoes. We understand you feel bad and want to help. You just don't understand. That man is clearly an alcoholic and a drug addict. He'd probably just keep his old shoes and sell your nice ones for a couple dollars so he could have some drug money. Trust us. We're out here all the time." So I slipped my $120 Nike shox back on my feet and walked away.

Because I almost forgot that when Jesus said, "If someone takes your tunic, give him your cloak as well" (Matthew 5: 40), what he really meant was, "...but check their motives first!" and when Jesus said, "Sell everything and give it to the poor," he meant just don't get attached to your possessions, but you can keep them. For a minute there, I forgot that Jesus says radical things and talks a big game, but he doesn't mean what he says in a literal sense. I almost forgot the most important thing about Jesus: that he's just like our generation.

Our generation. We go to school for 12 years, and then to college, and often to graduate school. We learn about Algebra, Geometry, Biology, Chemistry, Literature, Composition, History, Geography, Foreign Languages, Psychology, Philosophy. Our generation has more knowledge than any previous generation. We've become an age that values knowledge and reflection so much, that now all we do is talk, as if that's going to solve the world's problems. And so we talk. And reflect. And talk. And reflect... In the end, we do nothing, and nothing is changed. We've even reduced the great teachings to the same abstractions. But, every once in a while, someone of our generation will stand up and move. They'll act on the vision God's given them and try to do something. However,  it takes no time at all before a well-meaning parent or a friend or other Christians (especially other Christians), calm us down. Sober us. Deaden our passion. See, our generation is one of immediate enthusiasm, an enthusiasm that quickly dies, an enthusiasm that our thought and our logic and our reflection kills before it can grow into authentic passion.

And I yell out to God: "God, I'm done with this life! I want to be radical for you so badly! You're asking, 'Whom shall I send?' Send me! I'll go! We can change this world! I'll do anything to open the cracks in this world for Love to crash in!"

"Our own age is essentially one of understanding, and on the average, perhaps, more knowledgeable than any former generation, but it is without passion. Everyone knows a great deal, we all know which way we ought to go and all the different ways we can go, but nobody is willing to move." (Soren Kierkegaard, The Present Age)

And all too quickly, God answers me back: "You want to be radical? No, Keith. You don't mean that."

Hope; [or] As I Can't Remember His Name, I Think of Him as Sohrab From the Kite Runner

The first thing I saw was the patchy, tin houses sloppily packed one on top of another. Scraps of cars and sheets of metal tacked together in fruitless hopes of deterring the downpour of this rainy season. One house has been sinking slowly down the bank into the thick, muddy river. And that got me down.

I saw hundreds and hundreds of children, and children holding more children. Way too many children to fit in these houses, and way too many children that call this place home. Many children weren't wearing shoes, many without shirts, and way too many children on the streets without parents. And that got me down.

I saw a church and a school, both looking more like a rundown shed you'd find in the woods in the US. The school's overcrowded, and there aren't enough supplies nor teachers, making the ratio on the day I helped out 1 pair of scissors and 1 teacher for 70+ kids. The church is sick. It's pastor allows no children to come in and no women to speak during services. They stand in the back and fan their men, reclining in fold-up chairs and listening to sexist, ageist, and nationalist sermons. There's not just poverty here, but corruption. And that got me down.

I saw the three missionaries, two ticos and one nica. I saw them hugging mothers, holding babies, laughing with fathers, playing with children, giving out sandwiches, leading Bible studies, fighting, fighting, fighting. Oh, but one had to sleep here last night because she didn't have money for the 75 cent bus ride home yesterday. With no money coming in or out, they're falling into the same lives of the people they're trying to help. But is there any other way? It's only their hope and their love that keeps them afloat and lets them smile as they don't tell me that their monthly income is $100. I almost spent that much on some shoes yesterday. And that got me down.

I saw a little boy. He walks past some other boys playing soccer, and he's too young. In this place are many children but little childhood. Someone should be holding his hand, but his arms are full with his two younger siblings. He wears the same outfit I've only always seen him wear. I saw him lead his siblings to the cement slab where, under the blazing sun, the children sit watching skits and hearing stories about a man who feeds and heals people; and while distractedly watching a bony dog violently lap up the sewage water running between the houses, I felt myself sinking so low, getting so down.

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In a world where change is an abstraction and not a reality, so much can tear us down, and if we're not careful, we'll find ourselves sliding and sinking and being sucked down the river's bank into that thick, muddy trap. We can not let that happen. That's not the way for change. Change can be concrete. The way for change begins with hope. The way for change begins with love. And most often, these things are found in the ordinary, with change sneaking in, slowly leaking in not in the extraordinary, but in the ordinary, not in the conspicuous, but in the common.

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I didn't see him turn around and notice me sitting there behind him. I didn't see him sit his siblings down against the fence beside us and scoot towards me. I wasn't seeing anything but that stupid dog over there, but I felt him. I felt him slide into my lap, I felt his breathing as he leaned against my chest, and I felt him change me as I looked down and really saw him. I felt that simple, toothless grin lift me up and pull me out. Sitting there together, I don't remember what Bible story was preached, or how long it lasted; I don't remember that boy's name, or what his siblings were doing in that moment. I remember the unspoken between us, uniting everything about us that was still human, and making me believe again.

A Wasteful God

God, I am so pissed off at You right now!

I just got a facebook message from one of my Camp Joy kids. I've spent only 5 days a year with him for 4 summers, and it's been over a year since I've last seen him. Yet, out of the blue, he sends me this message saying how I'm like a brother to him. That he remembers when we prayed together, just us two. That when his guardians yell at him, he remembers all the love he felt at camp. That no one's ever led him to You God like I have.... What the hell is that, God!?!?!

He says those things about me? It's been over a year, and I was only with him for 5 days a year before that. Where are the parents he deserves? Where's the environment and the neighborhood he deserves? Where's the school and the opportunities he deserves? Where's the security and the family and the constant love he deserves? Where's your church, God? Answer me! I'm so angry at you God! You mean you've put no one else in his life to love him and lead him to You, except the crazy white college kids he sees 5 days a year, college kids he's too old to see at Camp now? I don't understand God, but I will love these kids until it kills me, even if their maker won't.

I don't trust you, God. I trust you with Keith. You've done nothing but lavish blessings on me--education, family, opportunities, love. What I don't trust you with are all these kids I see all around me. Kids labeled high risk because they aren't first in anyone's lives. Because You aren't loving them like you're loving me. I see you bring Heaven to me, beneath my feet, here in this world everyday; but I don't trust you to bring about Heaven here for all these kids. Heaven here. Heaven now. I don't trust that one day You'll make all this okay, but that won't stop me from giving and working and hurting and dying and trying until every youth I meet knows and feels they're loved, and then lives in that love so completely that their lives become dedicated to the same suicidal purpose of persisting in love.

I don't trust you. I'm having too hard a time seeing past what I see right now. I see too many without any love, without any homes, without any hope. Too many with only the negative as influences. Too many that know despair and abandon more than joy and affection. Too many surrounded by only hatred and selfishness. Too many orphaned. Too many never hearing the words,

"I love you. I believe in you."

No God. I don't trust you. Not with that. They're too valuable, too priceless for flippant and reckless trust.

I don't trust you, God.

But I want to.

I read in one of Your scriptures today, Luke 9, that popular Sunday School story about Jesus feeding the 5,000 with 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish. I don't believe you, I don't trust you for miracles like that anymore. But I want to. I want to believe in a God that preaches healing and hope to hurting people, and a God that when others say it's time to send the people home so they can eat, says, "No. We feed them," and a God that then takes a meager meal and turns it into a feast, physically feeding and showing people what Heaven here looks like. A God that is verb-loving the people here, now. I wan't to believe in that kind of God. And how wasteful you were! There were 12 basketfuls of food left over!

God. Take the 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish that I am, and feed 5,000. Prove to me that I'm not wrong in wanting to trust You. Prove to me that you're still a wasteful God. Be wasteful in your use of my life. Show me what Grace and Provision and Love in waste look like.

The Life I Want

I found him.

His name: Don Horacio López.
Place of birth: Buenos Aires, Argentina.
Current Location: San José, Costa Rica.
Family: beautiful wife, 3 beautiful children.
Profession: Missionary, youth and homeless ministries.

This--listen well, God--this is the life I want.

Anoche. I go with Horacio and his daughter to Carpio, a lower socioeconomic community largely consisting of Nicaraguans. I walk into a blue warehouse-looking building and straight into the middle of band practice. They're all about 16-18 years old. Baterias, guitaras, teclado (unweighted keys and no pedal), micrófonos, and voces that make God cry. We play, we sing, we worship. Some call me Andrés, favoring my more culturally adaptable middle name to my straight gringo first name. Some don't play or sing, so for a while, I join a game of one-touch fútbol (two touches and everyone gets a free kick at your body. I know. So awesome). "Hey, debes venir en domingo a la iglesia y cantar con nosotros para el servicio." Por su puesto. No hesitations. A few other people walk in carrying three loaves of pan y 2 litres of fresco. We're sharing cups and passing around the table the sweet, fresh pan still warm from the local bakery. This communion we share while they tell me jokes and talk about the Copa Mundial.

Horacio starts talking, and immediately all eyes are on him. Respect and love are in those eyes. Horacio prays. He asks who's grown in God this past week. Jeffry, a leader in his group of friends, speaks up first. "He estado leyendo la Biblia todos los everyday. Esta mañana, leyó Mateo 13." I laugh at his use of espanglish and am moved by his spirit I sense inspiring his friends. Horacio reads the parable about the people at a wedding with their oil and their lamps, waiting for the groom to arrive. "Es un buen mensaje para nosotros jóvenes, porque no podemos esperar. Tenemos que acercarnos a Dios hoy, servir al Señor hoy, y ser preparados para su vuelta hoy," one says.

Esta mañana. I walk to Horacio's house and join him and his wife in their car, first helping them load coolers of water and café and huge containers of pan into the trunk. We drive straight into downtown San José, where a group of indigentes (homeless) are already waiting for us at el parque. The youth from the night before are waiting for us there too, ready to serve. Rudi plays his guitar and the boys sing worship songs. Indigentes are surrounding us. Some singing when they know the words, some dancing, everyone at least clapping. The youth and I hand out café and pan. Horacio leads a short devocional. Did I mention that Horacio's kids started this street ministry? O that these youth and homeless ministries aren't what he gets paid for? That he's a pastor, and that these ministries come straight from his own pocket, like a Christian zakat? Someone tells me how great Don Horacio is, how he's different. He understands us. He even sleeps out here on the streets with us sometimes. Another man interrupts, "Soy el portero, y usted va a jugar con mi equipo."

Left midfield. You know, I always prefer the right, but it pays off. Indigentes, jóvenes, y un gringo playing the greatest sport, the greatest equalizer: fútbol. First half, only one goal for nuestro equipo. We're losing. Half time, tres indigentes y Jeffry y yo share a cup of hot water. Second half, dominación. "Centro, Centro!" I yell. José with the perfect pass. Off the laces. Top left corner of the goal. Minutes later, a corner kick. Jeffry lauches it and I dive into the best header I've ever had. Bottom right corner. "Ay, gringo!" everyone yells. Thirty minutes later and Horacio, standing as el arbitro, blows the final whistle. We win.

I get back in the car. Our portero, wearing clothes that needed washing weeks ago, runs up. "You always have forever friend with me. Come back in the next week!" I learn what it feels like to hug Jesus, and he sings as he walks away. Driving back, I can't stop thinking about how bad I'm going to feel when Horacio drops me off and there are butt and back sweat stains on the seat. "¿Entonces, vas a venir conmigo mañana a la iglesia? Y en miércoles de nuevo a los indigentes si quieres venir." Wouldn't miss either for the world, Horacio.

Remembering the Semester, Anticipating the Summer

Haha, that last post looks so dramatic now. It was for real at the time, though. I now want to write about some of the ways God has answered that prayer...

This past semester, I've gotten involved in a youth group that I met on a Focus trip last semester (Zoar Baptist). At the beginning of the semester, I went and helped out with the occasional Bible study, mainly going when I could find the time and when I didn't have a lot of work. Towards the end of the semester, I was going every Sunday night and every Wednesday night. I also hung out with any of the youth that wanted to hang out with me, anything from disc golf to tennis to hide-and-seek tag in Walmart (is that bad?). It's amounted to me hanging out with high schoolers during like 80% of my free time.

And life's never been so good.

First of all, it's amazing how much a bunch of high school guys can teach you about God. I would hope that each of the youth would say something about me being a witness for Christ and a Godly influence in their lives. I would hope that each of the youth would say something about me showing them a bigger picture of God's Grace and Love relentlessly fighting for them. I would hope that each of the youth would say something about me leading them to a deeper relationship with God. But the truth of the matter? They do that for me. Screw accountability partners. You want to be held accountable in speech, action, lifestyle? Find some people younger than you, people you'd give your life for. I'd do anything to see those youth get closer to God. And to think that maybe, maybe, just one of those youth looks up to me? Well, that's enough to keep me accountable.

In so many ways, by getting to know both the youth and some of their families, I've found my own families away from home while at Gardner-Webb. That's really taught me about God's Love. For sure. I love it when a parent says or writes something. Those moments are worth a world of encouragement, and God has really used them to minister to me. But overall, the most encouraging and inspiring moments I've had have been the result of words from these guys, often in the form of a random text or facebook message. Here are a few:

~keith can i ask u a favor? i always forget to read my bible will u hold me accountible and remind me? and if i have questions can i call u and talk about them? i reall ywanna get in the habit of doin this like we talked about in church
~alright im not finished yet but i read the first chapter of james im goin to read some more tommorrow and im praying for you
~i love you bro!!! thank u for everything
~keith andres menhinick im gonna miss you so much over the summer but i hope you have fun in costa rica and spread the love of christ around there you have definetly opened my eyes and showed how much love can make a difference but i cant wait until next week i love you man!!

I do not deserve this.

God has completely and totally expanded my worldview by focusing it on these youth. I see a bigger picture of myself and of life and of relationship, but what I've awakened to most is a bigger picture of God's Love. I would literally die for any one of those kids right now. Just for one of them to have another chance or a better opportunity I'd give everything. I find that when I'm alone, all I want to do is pray for them. These youth motivate me to change, to live differently, to be someone worth following. Maybe it's needless to say, but I've become attached to these kids, and I love them like crazy. I will miss them all so much this summer.

This summer... another crazy way God has answered my prayer. This Monday morning, I'm flying to Costa Rica. Last summer, I spent about a month there with the school to study Spanish, and I fell in love with the country. Now, I have the opportunity to go back with one of my bestest friends ever, Rosalee Johnson!, and work with some missionaries down there, spreading the Love of Christ (see youth message above). I might even get to help with music worship while I'm there. Spanish, missions, music, Rosalee...really God?

I do not deserve this.

I guess the point of all this is to say that God answers prayers. I wanted God to really use me for something worthwhile in life, something that will last, and now I feel used and see evidence of God's working in my life. I wanted an opportunity to leave America, apply my Spanish, and immerse myself in missions, and now I'm packing my bags to go. We serve an Awesome God, one who hears and answers prayer. God had to take me through a lot and take a lot away from me to get me here, but the place where I am with God right now is immeasurably better than any place I ever imagined.

And I know that the best I can imagine for the future is way less than what God's wanting to do.

What Teachers Make

One of my friends showed me this poet. He's quickly becoming one of my favorites. The poem I've chosen to highlight by posting it here is the one that speaks to me the most. If language offends you, I apologize now. Try to see past and get the message. Imagine the difference if we were all so intentional and deliberate, especially our teachers.



What Teachers Make, or
Objection Overruled, or
If things don't work out, you can always go to law school

By Taylor Mali


He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about
teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.

I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it's also true what they say about lawyers.

Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.

"I mean, you¹re a teacher, Taylor," he says.
"Be honest. What do you make?"

And I wish he hadn't done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water?
Because you're not thirsty, you're bored, that's why.

I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
I hope I haven't called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.

I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely
beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).

Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a g-d difference! What about you?

Bloody Right Toe

Oh, but I'm not done.

I hate seeing people live for their ministries because they love their ministries. I know, sounds weird. The thing is, when we finally figure out what it is God created us for, it is awesome! There's nothing more that we want than to dive into that one thing--whether loving kids, building homes, healing sick, enriching education, whatever. Finally, we find something worth pouring everything into. We give all that we are to this one thing. Everything. It's exhausting and painful, and we grow tired and weary and drained in our service. But, Love inspires us again. We find new energy and motivation and passion, and we jump back in.

This is a good thing, but it's so dangerous. Our ministry should be a means to God, but too often it becomes our end, our God. We do it because we've finally found something that encourages us, something that brings us purpose and joy and affirmation, because that's what we were created for, right? Ephesians 2 talks about how God created us for the good works s/he prepared for us to do long ago. So yes--we were created to do good works, but that was never supposed to be our focus. When our ministry versus our God becomes our focus, we start experiencing doubt and jealousy and gobs of other emotions. And we wonder why we're so burned out.

It's just so hard when we finally find that one thing in life that we really care about. Before long, we start doing that one thing for that one thing's own sake and not because it's the best way we can respond to God. Our expressions of love for others in our ministries should come of the overflow of love we have for God. It has to come out of that overflow. The problem when we start focusing on our ministry first and God second is that "then our service becomes self-centered instead of God centered, people- rather than God-pleasing" (Marva Dawn, Joy In Weakness). When this happens, our ministry has lost all effectiveness.

I love what Marva Dawn says on this subject. She goes on to say: "We cannot do eternal work if we do not work for the sake of the eternal One. We mistake the journey for its end and love the road instead of the One who called us to walk on it. This is an especially great danger because then our service points to the wrong focus. We do not direct others to God, but to our work, our deeds, ourselves."

Yes, I am preaching to myself. I'm trying to constantly talk to my kids and others about God, how God can renew and transform and change us. I have no right to make these claims, though, if I am not allowing God to do these things in my own life, to transform me.

I have a lot of thoughts running through my head right now. I guess the point I'm trying to make is where are you pointing? Is your ministry a response of your love for God, or is your ministry your first love? Is everything you do pointing back to your own work and your own ministries, or is everything you do pointing back to God?

(Also, if what I've said here doesn't apply to you only because you don't think you have a ministry, find one now! Look around you, go back to your bloody left toe, and care about something. The world can't afford to wait. Something isn't getting done in God's kingdom because of our present inaction.)

Musth and Mentors

To Own a Dragon by Donald Miller, 30-32

"I learned a great deal about myself while watching a documentary a few years ago about elephants in a wildlife trust in Africa. There were twenty-five elephants, all of them orphans, and they had been brought to the trust twenty years before. They were becoming teenagers--in elephant years. The girls were adequate, getting along with the other elephants, but there were a few boys who were causing a great deal of trouble. The narrator talked about the frustrations these few elephants were feeling because they had gone into early musth cycles, which showed up as a green pus running down their right hind leg. This phase produced aggressive and violent behavior, the elephant equivalent of sexual frustration.

The narrator in the documentary said the elephant musth cycle begins in adolescence, and normally lasts only a few days. But among these orphans, the musth cycle was disrupted and had become unusually long. These elephants were taking out their aggression on rhinos that bathed at a local mud pool. An elephant would slowly lumber down to the pool, enter near a rhino, then spear it through the side with his tusks. The elephant would then lean his gargantuan forehead into the head of the rhino, holding the beast underwater until it drowned. The filmmakers followed these orphan elephants, who were always on their own, staggering about the wildlife refuge, fueled by a pent-up aggression they couldn't understand. They weren't acting like elephants--they didn't know what an elephant was supposed to do with all his energy, all his muscle.

Occasionally, two elephants in musth would meet, and the encounter was always violent, going so far as to uproot trees in the fray of their brawl. Then both beasts, bloodied, lumbered their separate ways alone--without a family, without a tribe...

Watching television that night, however, the narrator began to speak of a kind of hope for these elephants. Elephant development, apparently, begins very early. Female elephants are only capable of having children once every two years, and during those two years between babies, the young are cared for obsessively by their mothers. They are fed, sheltered, loved, and guided in their learning of basic survival.

It is only at the first musth cycle that a young male elephant leaves his mother and enters into the African wild, searching for a mentor, a guide. The green pus running down his hind leg and his smell like fresh-cut grass alerts an older, fully mature male, that this is a young elephant in need of guidance. Upon finding a mentor, the young elephant's musth cycle ends. The older and younger begin to travel together, to find food together, to protect each other--the older one teaching the younger what elephant strength is for, and how to use it for the benefit of himself and the tribe."

Musth and Mentors Video

His name is "Today"

I am who I am today in large part because of who has invested in me. I'm pretty sure I was unaware of these efforts at the time, but in retrospect, it's obvious who cared enough to invest in my life. I'm pretty sure I know exactly who was praying for me, too. I know for a fact that I wouldn't be who I am and where I am today if it were not for these people in my life. Looking at only one semester of classes left in my college career before I begin teaching, I've been thinking a lot lately about discipleship and mentoring. What's disappointing is that I realize I've missed a lot of opportunities to invest in others, especially since I've been here at college. What also sucks? It's really hard to pull myself out of the rut. The rut that says, "You'll be working with youth the rest of your life. Just focus on you right now. You're still developing, Keith." Okay, sure. This is a very developmental time in my life--lots of ideas and philosophies about life are taking form right now, lots of heavy life choices being made, blah blah blah. I just can't get that stupid voice out of my head: "Keith, this is your developmental stage, your foundational years. Focus on you right now, on your studies and on college stuff. You've only got like a year left of college. You have the whole rest of your life to change the world."

But then there's the quieter voice, the voice I hear less often: "Keith. I understand you need to invest in your studies and in college activities. But can't you see? don't you understand? Children and youth are being molded right now--their bodies growing and their minds shaping now. They will not wait for you. I get that you think you need to focus on you, but these kids can't wait till tomorrow, till you feel ready. They're being overwhelmed with influences, influences slamming them left and right, influences that won't wait for you. If you really care, if you really want to make a difference, drop your excuses and your fears. Be one more positive influence in these kids' lives now. And I'm not talking about the occasional Bible study or Focus trip or basketball game. Youth are more important than that, and what they need is so much more. They need long-term investment. Yeah, it's more demanding. But the world's influences? Relentless. These lives can't afford for you to wait any longer."

"We are guilty of many errors and many faults, but our worst crime is abandoning the children, neglecting the foundation of life. Many of the things we need can wait. The child cannot. Right now is the time his bones are being formed, his blood is being made and his senses are being developed.
To him we cannot answer 'Tomorrow'. His name is 'Today'." (Gabriela Mistral, 1948)

Someone to Follow

As past blog entries have perhaps indicated, this semester has been rough. Emotionally, I've been driving on empty, and every other aspect of my life--the physical, the spiritual, the academic--has been overwhelmingly influenced by my empty emotional tank. The cool thing? God's really been working. Like a lot. Like a lot a lot. I'm gaining a little more peace and clarity every day. However, some days are still steps backwards; but for the majority, most days are small steps forward. Sunday was a leap forward. Sunday, one of my friends gave his initial sermon at my church (Palmer Grove Baptist), and his message was simple: "Stop letting your history dictate your destiny." I needed that message. I needed to be reminded of God's healing, God's redeeming of my history, and God's vision for my life. I think what I needed the most, though, was the reminder that I'm not alone. I needed to see a young man of God stand up before 800 people and cry. I needed to see vulnerability and passion. I had lost a vision God has given me for my life, and I needed someone to point me back. I needed someone to follow.


People crying people dying
People stealing people killing
People raping people hating--
All this hurting.

And that's how life goes

Everyone working everyone fighting
Everyone trying everyone striving
Everyone slaving everyone straining--
All this hurting.

And that's how life goes

The cycle continues,
Everyone alone.
Humans keep hurting and pains keep persisting,
Aching, crying, working, dying,
Everyone Alone.

And that's how life goes

Always reaping, never sewing,
Reaping and perpetuating
All this Hurt.
Because the examples provided--
Killing and Hating--
Are all we have to follow.

And that's how life goes

But,
All it takes is one--
One leader, one model,
One example,
A new example--
To begin a new cycle.

Just one example,
Someone to follow--
Promoting Peace,
Inspiring Hope,
Leading toward Love--
All it takes is one.

Just one solid example,
Just one to show,
It doesn't have to be like this;
There is another way.

And suddenly,
We find the stinging has weakened,
The suffering diminished,
The hurting assuaged,
The pain outweighed.

By what?

By love:
Shown in example,
Lived in words,
Spoken in actions.
One solid example,
Pointing us back,
Starting a new cycle.

Because what we really need,
Is someone to follow.


Thanks Donnie for being one of the few examples out there worth following.

"If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you." --John 13:15