How God Feeds Me

How does God feed me, my soul, my spirit?

I spent a week at a college, with students who want nothing but to serve God. Through long, late nights, endless conversations pumped with caffeine, I think I recognize God's Spirit amongst the teachable hearts. They aren't perfect. And they might even be transporting a Gopsel that is lacking. They might be transporting a "white gospel." Still, I'm able to manage my concern over that because of the hopeful, learner type attitudes that are everywhere.

And then I come home. I come home to a weekend, with more college students. (That would be you guys for those of you reading this blog). Hope upon Hope. I had an even more hopeful weekend as the students were honest, insightful, and pushed me to go deep. I hate to admit it, but I often enter those weekends with a bit of fear. By "those" weekends, I mean weekends that we invite others to come into our neighborhood, our home. We often get comments about how crazy we are, or how wrong we are. Not with this group. This group wanted to listen. And even if they didn't agree with everything, they were willing to let God speak into what they should take away from the time. There was love, tears, stories. Stories of the poor as real people. One person even said that homelessness lost its "romantic, wonderer like Jesus type feel" That's been my prayer for the past two months. My prayer was, "God, we talk about the poor so much, but do we romanticize their plight and pain? When we host students are we just exposing them enough to do more harm than good?" The answer is no. And I can say that because of how beautifully this group gave of their heart and how much they pushed me toward holiness.

And now, downstairs we have another group. And I'm remembering the pain again. The pain of comments tainted with such racism. The pain of being told we're wrong and there isn't any problem. The pain of being told this in our own home.

But I don't remain in hopelessness. I go back to last weekend. I go back to the graffiti wall that we kept up:) And I say to God, "I trust you more than myself. I give over my need to fix the church to you, and I trust you to fill me with your love, grace, and justice."

so i need

Mark Soderquist's email...por favor?

I'll get back and post something "for real" later.

BRAINSTORM: what now?

I'm a big picture person, so I was relieved when I was able to write down a "if you don't remember anything else, remember this" statement in my notebook on Monday night. It's all about relationship and understanding. I begin to learn how to help my oppressed brother—be he black, poor, or any other sort of underprivileged—when I enter into relationship with him and try to understand him. That's when the gospel becomes more real to me. That's when the gospel becomes more real to him.

So here's my question: How do we at JBU enter into those relationships? 

That isn't a rhetorical question. I want to know real answers, so I'd appreciate it if people would just through out one-sentence ideas. Don't worry about their feasibility; brainstorm.

I'll throw out a few ideas that have been swirling around in my head:

Go to the Spanish church on 412. I've been there once and they were really welcoming. Yes, it's in Spanish, and that means I don't get much of it, but I'm more concerned about the relationships. But going once doesn't build relationships. I wonder if there's a service each week during a time I'm not usually at First Pres. Maybe something that's less teaching-based so that I can work on building relationships (and not have to try to track a long sermon in a language I don't know that well)...

Capitalize on the relationships I already have here at JBU. I know some Hispanic students beyond just an acquaintance level. Maybe try to meet with them for lunch? That seems really formal and uptight, but I'm not sure what else would be feasible.

Where are we?

I don't have time to post much at the moment but look forward to it a little later. But the thing that has hit me this time even more than last time is mini-culture shock. Where am I? I have heard several students make similar comments as well. It just feels odd to be back here. Don't get me wrong, it was incredible to sit with my wife and talk face to face rather than over a cell phone. And my kids' hugs squeezed away a lot of heaviness. A morning at the library and the park sliding and chasing were so wonderful. Nevertheless, I desire to be back in the midst of dealing with things that "really" matter. And yet I am called to be right here. The discussions are so much harder on this side of things without the faces of Pops, Willie, Victor, Paco, Derrick, and others. Here it all seems to be theory. Part of me desperately longs to reenter the reality of the situation.

My prayer: O Lord, fill me with your spirit, that I might boldly explore, discuss, and engage my current "place" with all of its prejudices, opinions, political agendas, religious rhetoric, and real people loved by you. May the truth of my experience and the words of your "prophets" not become lost and mired in the comfort, ease, and busyness of this "place".

Getting Started

Hello all,

Once again, you should know what an encouragement you were this weekend. A few things to get us started:

• If you would prefer to not have your email associated with the authors list, just let me know, and I'll take you off the list. No problem.
• We'll be working out the kinks here in the beginning, so bear with us! :)
• This blog will allow everyone from the trip to write (if he/she wants to write). It will also allow everyone from the trip to comment. It will allow anyone at all (blogger users, non blogger users) to view the blog, but they will not be able to comment. Comments can only be made by your group. If you would like to inquire about the settings, just shoot me an email and we can talk.
  
• Please do not feel any pressure to utilize this resource. We recognize that not everyone will wish to process in this way. Let's remember that just because someone isn't sharing his/her writing doesn't mean he/she isn't processing. It might just be too personal to share via blog.
  
• Please respect the privacy of people's identities within stories (i.e. change names etc, even if you think they will never read this).
• Let's find the balance between gentleness, boldness, and respect in conversation here. A blog can be an interesting but vulnerable place to discuss personal experiences and issues, so let's be sensitive when others share.
  
• More than discussing issues, this is a great place to share experiences you have in the future which demonstrate some of the values you might have explored on this trip.

Walking the Journey Together--