A few Stories...

I have a couple stories for you.
Just because I think they are cool and worth telling.

Penn Station 

Before we left for Costa Rica I was working at a Children's Camp for kids with special needs with Christian Horizons, and one of the last days I injured my back during an incident involving a restraint. A few days later I was off in a plane and found myself hiking for hours up and then back down a mountain, that felt like it had 90 degree hills. Lets just say I was in, what felt like at times, excruciating pain, but I made a deal with myself after climbing up to the highest reserve that I wouldn't complain about it and I would push through the pain. On our way back we had a long layover in New York, and decided to go tour New York City. After a long day of walking around the bright city lights I was in so much pain I was fighting back tears.
We were waiting for our train at Penn Station to go back to the hotel to grab our stuff and get to the airport.
Everyone was tired (and kind of grumpy) and when the train got there everyone ran for it.
I had plunked myself down on the ground while we were waiting, and all of sudden found myself stuck. I was trying to get up and run with the group to the train, but it felt like my brain and the nerves in my back were no longer connected. I started losing sight of everyone in our group, and thought that I would actually be left behind.
Just then I see a hand reach down to where I was at. I looked up to see a smiling, friendly face of a young man who was developmentally disabled. He simply said "Do you need help?"
I humbly and happily accepted his hand and he walked with me to the train.
As I was dozing off in the train I thought about the symbolism behind him physically helping me, since I always try to communicate how it is a partnership of teacher/learner and helper/helped with the people I work with. I smiled to myself thinking of how this story brought it to life with something tangible.
It took someone who often gets left behind to notice someone that needed help and he didn't hesitate to be that help.
Just beautiful.  


Frank, the Homeless Poet, and My Friend Sebastian 

Last week Ben and I took out two missionaries our church supports from India, Frank and Bapu. We had so much fun eating out and touring around Ottawa with them. While we were at lunch we were picking Franks brain, being the adventurous quirky 78 year old man he is, we figured we could learn a thing or two from his 50 years in the mission field. He had so many insights into many of life's mysteries, but we found one of the coolest things about him was that he was so confident in who he was and who God was, that he didn't really care too much about the rest of it, or how others chose to spend their time or money. He was a man that treasured solitude and a moment with the Divine and it was as though he came to the place where he actually started knowing and acting grace. As he talked about the differences between this society and India, he didn't condemn the way western society operates (which I tend to do), he knew the Christians in this context were as covered by grace as he was, and it showed he truly believed it. So cool.
So as we sat and listened to all these things a strange thought came to me. The waitress would come every so often and we would stop talking and either give our order or compliment the food and then when she left get back to talking. I thought about how this waitress and so many others, like the barista that later took our drink order, would interact with Frank and probably never know all the wisdom he holds or that he houses, feeds and educates currently 1500 children in India.

Now hold that thought.

That same day as we were walking around downtown Ottawa I noticed a homeless man sitting with a bunch of cardboard standing up beside him, I knelt down beside him and realized it was poems written with marker on these pieces of cardboard. I asked him if he minded if I read them, and he happily and humbly agreed. As I read them, particularly one called "isolation" I was awestruck and touched. They were so beautiful and insightful. The words came to life on those small, cut out, dirty pieces of cardboard.
And then a similar thought came to mind, so many people would pass this man on the street everyday and never stop, never wonder, and never know the compelling talent and poet that he was. They would never get the opportunity to be touched by his words or taught by his depth of understanding the human condition.

Now hold that thought.

A week later I found out that a rather large church in Ottawa was running a second hand sale to raise money for Christian Horizons Global. Now I knew my friend Sebastian, a person I support at L'Arche, would be interested in going to this because he never turns down an opportunity to go to church. I arrived to pick him up that evening and we went off to enjoy the music and rummage through the second hand treats. Sebastian is someone that is always full of joy. He make me belly laugh on a regular basis. As we got to the church we began looking around at the goodies and Sebastian, being the friendly man that he is, began interacting with people. I was a little put off because many of the people he talked to didn't even bother responding to him or his questions. He usually greets people with "What's your name?" followed by "Do you like movies?" People just kept moving along and ignoring his presence. We sat for the worship and bought some of our things and left. Him completely unfazed by any of it, he is who he is, and he is going to be full of joy even if you don't answer his questions, but it still bothered me. I vocalized some of my frustrations with my dear Marika who came along with Sebastian and I. Being reminded again of Frank and the homeless man and how people never stop to notice.  Every person in that place would have been better off knowing the shining light that is Sebastian, but no one did, and that is kind of sad to me.

Now you can stop holding those thoughts.
Take some time to know the people around you, stop for a minute, be open to your brothers and sisters, create an accepting community to surround you, and treat everyone with tenderness.
This is not just for others but also for yourself.
You never know if you will meet Frank, the homeless poet or my friend Sebastian that could make your life a little brighter and more full.  

My Jesus

Every time I pass by one of those signs in front of churches, I always roll my eyes.
It's always something so cheesy.
Last night it was "God can do anything but fail." BLEH.
They just always seem to fall so short of the message that would reach people.
I always ask people, who's opinions I respect, what they feel is the most important message, what they believe would be the single most vital thing to get across to people suffering about who Jesus is.
I asked Pastor Alex this when we were in Costa Rica, really feeling like if anyone was to know it was him, who is serving suffering people all the time.
His answer, through broken english, was simple and through a means; with action, with serving, with meeting people where THEY are at you bring Love, Acceptance and Grace. And then he reminded me that his church is full of people he met in bars, dumpsters, and brothels and range from ex prostitutes to ex hitmen.

After passing by the church sign yesterday I was trying to think of the message I would want to get across, what I would want the countless suffering people to know as they passed by about my Jesus.

Jesus is a radical adventurer, a radical lover, a radical philosopher/theologian, a radical servant, a radical Father/Friend/Mentor; a radical hippie.
He is full of radical selflessness, radical acceptance, radical grace, radical forgiveness, radical passion and radical peace. 
He wants to know you intimately, wholly, honestly, and deeply
And not despite it all but with it all;
He wants to love you fully, unconditionally, passionately, beautifully, flawlessly, and furiously  

I need a bigger sign.