Already and Not Yet

Grace with a Side Order of Spit

2011-04-21T04:23:00.000-07:00

Finally made it to my first early dawn prayer service in Korea this morning (that would be 5am here folks)—The passage for the sermon was Matthew 27:27-31. The verses describe Jesus’ treatment by the Roman Soldiers after his arrest—How he was hit, spit upon, and received the crown of thorns. I wish I could articulate the main point of the sermon, but I find that my Korean comprehension is extremely poor when I’ve been up since 4am. (There was a lot of talk of spit—that much I know.) My ears perked up however when he mentioned a story made famous from when Korea was occupied by Japanese forces. Christians in Korea at the time were mercilessly persecuted by Japanese soldiers and were often lined up and then ordered to spit upon a bible or a doctored picture representing Jesus. If they didn't, they faced imprisonment/torture.

I knew this story—my youth pastor had told it to us when I was in high school and it went like this…a bunch of adults passed through the line, some of them were pastors/elders. Each of them trembled for their life and when it became their turn, they spit on the bible for fear of being shot—this version was “spit or die.” Then it was a young man’s turn. Weeping, he said “how can I spit on the one who saved me?” and he refused. And *bam* the soldiers shot him dead. As a youth, I was a little awe-struck by this, but truthfully? I was terrified, and burdened too. What if Jesus gave me this challenge? Would I spit or would I save my life? I think as an adult I look back on that story and think, maybe my youth pastor should have saved that story for a different audience. So this morning when the pastor started to tell what I thought was going to be the same story, I listened in, only to discover that this version was different.

His version went like this:
The soldiers had lined up several Christians so that they could make their own choice—spit on the picture of Jesus or go to prison. Some refused and were arrested; many others spit and walked away, probably dejected and scared out of their minds. A man approached the photo unsure of what his choice would be. He peered at the photo but he jumped back, startled b/c he heard what he thought was God’s voice, saying, “Go ahead and spit on the picture-I’ve already endured that for you and the world. Do what they demand and save your life.”

I wish I could convey the Korean and the way in which the pastor said it- it is much more eloquent in the original tongue, but nevertheless, it kind of left me breathless and moved me deeply. So much to reflect upon with that kind of story.

I think I might try to get up for another day of early morning prayer.

Blind Sight

2011-04-12T20:31:00.000-07:00

Living in Korea, I’m a little slow on the latest news or blog that has the faith community abuzz, but browsing through Youtube, hit upon Rob Bell and his news blitz regarding his latest publication, “Love Wins.” I was particularly interested in watching the clip of his MSN interview with Martin Brashir. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vg-qgmJ7nzA) I like Brashir as a journalist, have since I first caught him on nightline. Respect his work. I also like Rob Bell. Heard him speak for the first time at a National Pastor’s Conference I attended in 2002? Can’t remember exactly which year. His knowledge and understanding of scripture and the passion with which he communicated in ways that were substantive and relevant left a lasting impression on me and I know nearly everyone else at that conference. Since then, I have followed his work from time to time on his church’s website (marshill.org) and have always felt he was on to something that I hoped more people would pay attention to-- He strikes me as someone who loves Jesus, talks about what that means and does his homework when he talks about what he discovers in Scripture.
Brashir is also someone I’ve come to respect because he can ask probing questions with respect and even compassion when challenging those he interviews. I like people who can push when it matters, but do it in a way that is civil, cool—and as journalist, relatively objectively. I think this was why I was so surprised when I watched the interview. Where was the cool, objective journalist I was used to seeing? I had absolutely no clue as to Brashir’s own religious views and background, but when I watched that clip, it was clear to me that this was very, very personal for him. Did a little digging and it turns out that he is an active and long time member of Tim Keller’s church, Redeemer Presbyterian in NYC. (For those of you not familiar with this church, it is fairly evangelical/conservative).
After his interview with Rob Bell, Martin Brashir called into a conservative Christian radio program to discuss his interview in greater detail—like what motivated him to question Bell the way he did, etc. Now I’m not going to use this blog to defend Rob Bell—he doesn’t need me or anyone else to do that. He can stand on his own merits and I know there are many who support him or have responded to criticisms about his latest book. Neither is this an attempt to dissect or criticize Brahsir and the objections he had to Rob Bell’s work. We should be okay with someone raising objections about the contents of a book—to challenge what they perceive to be lacking in some way. But listening to that conversation between the host of the radio show and Brahsir hurt. Hurt, because it went beyond the criticism of a book. No matter how many times they said it wasn’t personal, it was. They were questioning things about Rob Bell that went beyond his book. I guess since I’ve always admired Rob Bell’s work and have been so encouraged by him, he almost feels like a friend…a friend I’d like to meet one day and share cup of coffee with—so when I hear two people who obviously have limited exposure to him (as do I), assuming a lot and coming to conclusions about him, his faith and ministry that are generally negative and presumptuous, it hurts.
Started to upset me even and yet in that same moment, I was immediately reminded of a book club conversation I had with some folks from church the day before. In that conversation, a certain writer/pastor’s name came up and I had this visceral reaction…and this visceral reaction came out of my mouth—it went something like this “Well I’m sure ___________is a good person and I know he’s had a positive impact on people, but he is also . Doesn’t matter what I said specifically, the fact is that I introduced my judgment of this person with an acknowledgment that was totally negated by my criticism. An acknowledgment that if I am honest, I don’t genuinely value very much. Brutally honest? I don’t mean to, but I think I start off with the positive to justify my negative comments.

Lord, have mercy on me.

Two weeks ago I preached on John 9, about Jesus healing the man born blind. Towards the end of this passage, Jesus offers a stinging remark to the Pharisees—“For judgment I have come so that the blind will see, and those who see will go blind.” Whaaaa?? Then he follows that with “if you were blind you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you can claim you see, your guilt remains.” Oh. Ouch.

These days I pause when I look at the objections that Jesus had to the Pharisees and their ways…they were after all part of that religious institution that worked from the same ancient texts as Jesus. Why such different interpretations and conclusions? One biblical scholar inferred that it was because the Pharisees beliefs of God were so tightly constructed, there was no room for God’s Spirit to freely move and breathe. They had grown so dependent on this system, they consistently ignored the signs that were taking place in Jesus and it hardened them. Hardened them from seeing God working through him so that a man who was once blind can see what they can’t.

Much of our politics and churches are divided along liberal vs. conservative, evangelical vs. progressive, and for those of us who care about theology, we argue for one type of biblical scholarship over the “other”—and no matter where one might fall in the spectrum, I think it vital to see how Jesus’ words might apply to us first, and not to someone else out there. I don’t think any of us are above this comment made to the Pharisees. When I realized what I had done in that conversation at the book club so soon after having a reaction to the interview and radio program---I kept thinking about how perverse and destructive sin can be—we are absolutely beautifully and wonderfully created in God’s image—but crud, we are so sinful too.

Lord, have mercy.

How subtle and deep are the ways in which we justify our actions and thoughts in one way or another. Maybe it’s because we carry the spiritual heritage or DNA of that first man and woman who said, “who me? Don’t look at me, look at him/her/it” when God came strolling around and found them naked. A naked they had so hopelessly and inadequately tried to cover with leaves that God ended up covering them up with animal skin.

Following Jesus is disruptive. When I am content with a type of myopia, Jesus’ life and words has that affect of God strolling through the garden calling out to the first man and woman…. Uhmmm, dear Jesus, I’d rather hide and cover myself, thank you.

Why this is, I’m sure many could offer theological insight and explanations. I only offer one for the purpose of keeping this entry shorter— we fail to see and grasp what it means to be naked before God. We see nakedness as something to be ashamed and afraid of--a weakness of some kind…I guess it is, one is pretty darn exposed and vulnerable when naked---but what freedom to know that we are all of that before a God who is so loving, tender and gracious towards us. Our God is not intimidated or put off by our nakedness. Today I read a commentary on John’s gospel about Jesus washing the feet of his disciples and it says this: “The footwashing and the crucifixion itself, to which it pointed was Jesus way of showing who God was and is. Next time Jesus has his clothes changed it will be to reveal him as “the man,” the king; after that he will be naked on that cross, revealing the father’s heart as he gives life for the world.”

Here, nakedness is not exposure, but a revelation.

Holy and merciful God, in your revelation may we see ourselves and one another more clearly.
Amen.

The Grain that Falls

2010-08-17T20:56:00.000-07:00

I have been so blessed by Barbara Brown Taylor’s sermons/books. I gobble them up, sometimes too quickly and I have to go back to read and savor them. Currently reading her collection of sermons entitled “God in Pain.” Wanted to transcribe one of her sermons and share. Though they are not my words, I think they are such an appropriate follow up to my last note on facebook.

Sermon Title: “Unless a Grain Falls,” by Barbara Brown Taylor. Text: John 12:20-33.

“Last week a woman came to see me for some help with her power bill. After I handed her the check, she said, “What kind of church is this, anyway?” I told her it was an Episcopal church, which did not appear to help her any. “ I never heard of that before,” she said “What do y’all believe?” I started to tell her, but she had specific things in mind. “Do you believe you have to be saved?” she asked me. While I was trying to decide whether to give her the long answer or the short answer, she said, “Let me put it this way: Do you believe Jesus died for your sins?”

“Of course,” I said, and while she still looked a little sorry for me, as if she knew I was saying something I did not fully understand, she decided to let me pass. “Well, so do I,” she said, tucked the check in her pocketbook, and left.

That was the end of it for her, but not for me. By asking me about the connection between my life and Jesus’ death, she opened up all the old uncomfortable questions for me again. Yes, I believe Christ died for the sins of the whole world—only how did that work, exactly? Were they all piled up there at the foot of the cross, sins past and sins to come, and when he breathed his last they simply vanished?

Or was it more like a ledger in the hands of an angry God, with every person’s name followed by a long list of debts? Every time God wrote down another one, God said, “Someone is going to have hell to pay for this.” Then one day Jesus said, “I will. I’ll pay the whole thing,” and that was that. God closed the book and threw it in the trash. Only how did something that happened two thousand years ago affect what may do tomorrow? Does Jesus go on dying for our sins? And what kind of God would require that?

Since Christ’s death and resurrection are central to this faith we profess, I think it is extremely important that each of us struggle with what those events mean to us, both as individuals and as a community. It is not enough to repeat what we have been told. If we really believe there is a connection between our lives and Christ’s death, then the least we can do is spend some quiet hours asking God to teach us about that.

The twelfth chapter of John contains most of what Jesus had to say about his own death in that Gospel. According to John, he said it in Jerusalem during Passover, the last week of his life, when some Greeks who were in town for the festival asked to see Jesus. Their request was a sign to him that his hour had come.

These were not local people who had heard about him from their neighbors. They were Gentiles from across the sea who wanted to meet the Hebrew Holy man. When the authorities heard about it, they would step up their efforts to arrest him. The more famous he became, the more dangerous he was to them. Something had to be done about him, and soon.

“The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified,” Jesus told them, and not only them but the whole crowd standing around. “Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit,” he said.

It is a statement about the redemptive power of suffering, both his and ours, and it is no easier to hear now than it ever was. What he is telling us is that if we do everything in our power to protect our lives the way they are—if we successfully prevent change, prevent conflict, prevent pain—then at the end we will find that we have no life at all. But if we hate our lives in this world, which as far as I am concerned can only mean if we hate all the ways we cheapen our lives by chasing comfort, safety, and superiority in this world—if we hate that enough to stop it and start chasing God instead—then there will be no end to the abundance of our lives.

Those were the two choices he laid out for his listeners, the same two available to him as the net drew in around him. The first way, the way of self protection, was closed to suffering. If he chose it, he could do a couple of things. He could stop walking around in the open and go underground instead, sleeping in a different hideout each night. Or he could simply tone down his message. That would work too. He could find more pleasant ways to phrase things. He could stop eating with outcasts and start showing more respect for organized religion. If he loved his life and wanted to save it, that is.

If, on the other hand, he loved something more than his life, then there was second way open to him. Call it the way of self offering. That way contained not the possibility but the probability of suffering—not as the main goal but as a by-product of the main goal. If he kept walking around in the open where anyone could get to him, if he kept speaking and living his confrontational message, then eventually he would suffer for it. There were no two ways about it. He was crossing lines of power you do not cross without getting electrocuted. His only choice was whether to cross them or not.

But he did have a choice, which is essential to his story. There are so many kinds of suffering in this world that have nothing to do with the gospel. There is nothing redemptive about famine, genocide, or incest. There is no choice for those who suffer from such things, and no one should have to endure them. The only kind of suffering I am talking about today is the kind Jesus chose—again, not as his goal but as by-product of his goal—which was to be fully who God had created him to be no matter what the cost.

A grain of wheat cannot grow unless it dies. That is how Jesus put it. If you encase it in plastic and hang it around your neck, it will never be good for anything but a bauble. For the seed to do what it was meant to do, it has to be given up. It has to fall into the earth and be buried. It has to sit down there in the dark until its hour comes, when it will sell, crack, and hatch new life—a green shoot that will climb toward the sun until it breaks through, becoming a golden stalk for the seed, you won’t find it anymore. It is dead and gone. It gave up its life so there could be more wheat in the world.

This is a very different understanding of Jesus’ death than the one most of us were taught, which was that Jesus died to atone for our sins. According to John, Jesus died to fill the world with wheat, with so many sons and daughters of God that no one would ever want for bread again. Only in order to do that, the seed had to be planted. It had to die, or it would never grow.

If Jesus had saved his life, gone on a speaking tour, and written some books, there is no telling how long his movement might have lasted—a hundred years, maybe or at least until the books fell apart. But because he was willing to lose his life—because his message mattered so much to him that he was telling to show people what it meant instead of just telling them about it—his seed bore much fruit, more than it ever did while he was alive.

Because Jesus was willing to die, God could raise him from the dead. Because Jesus was willing to die, people could discover that death was not the world thing that could happen to them. Because Jesus was willing to die, a new community could form in his name, one that redefined its life on the basis of his death.

One of the main points in that redefinition was a new view of suffering. It was no longer something to be avoided at all costs, nor did it mean that God was mad at you. It might in fact mean that God loved you very much, because when someone on a path towards God deliberately chooses the self-offering that goes with that path, then suffering becomes one of God’s most powerful tools for transformation. It is how God breaks open hard hearts so that they may be made new. It is how God open closed lives so that they can get some air into them again.

When Jesus died, this power was made manifest. By absorbing into himself the worst that the world could do to a child of God and by refusing to do any of it back, he made sure it was put to death with him. By suffering every kind of hurt and shame without ever once letting them deflect him from his purpose, he broke their hold on humankind. In him, sin met its match. He showed us what is possible. These are just some of the fruits of Christ’s death, things that could never have happened if he had not been willing to fall to the ground.

So here we sit, the local field of wheat who owe our lives to him. If he had not died, we would not be here. Because he did, we are. He has spoken to us about the way of life and the way of death, letting us know that these are the only two choices and that none of us may abstain. When the hour comes, each of us has a grain of wheat with which to cast our votes. It is the grain of our lives, and all of creation is holding its breath to see what we will do with it. Amen”

A Letter to a Friend

2008-05-29T22:33:00.001-07:00

I realize that my last posts have been pretty intense. The topics and themes covered in them are important to me and it just happens that this seems to be a more heavy handed season in my life, but lest anyone think that my life is always like this or that I'm not having enough fun...this will be my concluding thought on suffering, at least for now ;) But I do hope that it has somehow encouraged those of you who are in a place where things are tough for you or your loved one.

Started to write the following in a letter, but then realized it would be better to post it as a blog...so here is a part of the letter that ended up here rather than personally directed to this friend:

Dear _______.....There's a new book published called The Life of Meaning, a compilation of essays by different authors. I want to get it, but trying to break the bad habit of buying books on a whim. It looks interesting. One of the authors is Madeline L'Engle and in it she is quoted to have written,

"I know that where there is no suffering, nothing happens"

Hmmm. I don't like it, but I think I may have to agree as I reflect on the gospel meditations and hear so many people around me echo much of what you've shared in terms of doing well only to find that things can so quickly change. I'm all about claiming the triumph of the resurrection---but somehow I still mix that up with the current western culture of being just happy or content, positive all the time---and forget to acknowledge that we live in a broken world with messed up people and things...maybe the most faithful thing we can do or be is to live in the tension between the two....resurrection promise and brokenness: Because somehow in that tension we experience God.

All around me lately, I've had people who doubt God in the midst of world suffering, unanswered prayers and the general brokenness that one faces in life. Okay must include myself in there somewhere. My grand theological observation to all of this? Any type of suffering sucks and nothing can really remove that element, but I’ve also seen how God creates the possibility for blessing too… like the meaningful moments of shared suffering between friends and community; mutual empathy that goes beyond a polite, "I'm sorry to hear about what you are going through"; raw prayers that are not about how articulate you are or praying out of a sense of duty. It’s hard for me to embrace what I’m about to say, but I think it does open you up to experience the love of God with more depth and beauty and often leads you to appreciate the most basic, simple things in life with greater appreciation and value......praying for you...

Upside Down, Right side up

2008-05-26T13:33:00.000-07:00

Recently struggling with the dissonance between the way I live/think/feel and Jesus' teachings in the gospels. With my background in therapy and living in the age of Oprah..a high goal for myself and in the way I minister to others is to be the most normal, healthy individual you can be (often translates into being "happy")--and yet I'm not sure how that fits in with what Jesus teaches. I have experienced and seen the maladies of following Jesus with judgmental legalism and non-thinking/thoughtful faith, but also have witnessed the consequences of making them palatable or less than outrageously extreme in our current culture. I've been reading Philip Yancey's "Rumors of Another World" again and in it found a great quote from Frederick Buechner which basically says that I need to be a little crazy to follow Jesus. Oddly enough, reading it makes me feel like a carefree kid who can laugh and just enjoy the day:

"If the world is sane, then Jesus is mad as a hatter and the Last Supper is the Mad Tea Party. The World says, Mind your own business, and Jesus says, There is no such thing as your own business. The world says, Follow the wisest course and be a success, and Jesus says, Follow me and be crucified. The world says Drive carefully--the life you save may be your own--and Jesus says, Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. The world says, Law and order, and Jesus says, Love. The World says, Get, and Jesus says, Give. In terms of the world's sanity, Jesus is crazy as a coot, and anybody who thinks he can follow him without being a little crazy too is labouring less under the cross than under a delusion. "We are fools for Christ's sake," Paul says, faith says--the faith that ultimately the foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of men, the lunacy of Jesus saner than the grim sanity of the world."

Aversion to Suffering

2008-05-05T18:51:00.000-07:00

I’ve been meditating on the gospel of Luke the past few days, okay weeks. I’m only past chapter 7, so days sound better, but I’d rather be honest.  One of the things that stand out for me in these early passages is the description of Jesus going off to pray: Praying a lot; Praying all through the night before he chooses the 12 disciples. In Chapter 6, Luke then begins to list the disciples. The last one of course is Judas, the one who would betray him--reading that again made me pause. When I pray about ministry and God building it, i.e. bringing the right people/leaders, I never imagine that this might include someone or something which might test me, hurt me, even “destroy” me. I wonder at what point in his ministry Jesus knew that there was someone in his inner circle who would play such an instrumental role in his great suffering. All of this made me so aware of how often I pray and assume that everything is going to be just great if only God answers me well. I forget that following Jesus does and will include suffering: Suffering not for the sake of suffering, but b/c living for Jesus means risking and being vulnerable. Loving the way Jesus loved would HAVE to include this as a possibility. I take that back, not the possibility, but the probability. And yet I am so acutely aware in this moment of how much I surround my life with things, situations, relationships and people who make my way as safe as possible. No wonder I try to follow Jesus only to be dismayed or even shrivel up when things become too hard, too painful, too MUCH. I once heard a former South American activist say that we in the developed west surround ourselves with things and circumstance that give us the illusion that life doesn’t have to include suffering. She said that people in developing countries know better...it’s why they aren’t destroyed when great sufferings come, but also know how to just enjoy and celebrate like crazy when things are good (she was much more eloquent than that)...I’m sure nothing can quite fully prepare us for what we might face as we continue to live out our faith, but knowing that Jesus walked it before us gives me some peace.

The Ecosystem, Famine, and Consumption

2008-05-02T15:00:00.000-07:00

After I watched the video from my first post, I started to wonder if I was being called to become a nun or start a ministry like S Claiborne’s……then I had this flash image of living alone in this hole in the wall apt. crouched in a corner, totally miserable, which had me immediately cracking up. The following morning I woke up brushing off my forehead what I thought was a lint or piece of hair; it turned out to be a giant roach. I remained pretty zen or calm b/c I was so intent on catching it and killing it (Steve, the Sr. pastor at church pointed out that if I was truly being zen, I would have caught it and set it free). So I remained calm and killed it, but that night anything that brushed up against my skin had me freaking out. Thankfully the exterminator came and explained to me that my place is clean and said it was probably an isolated incident. Those things combined almost sounded like God saying, “Keep it real girl.” Or at least “not right now.” Lol.

Last weekend the big news was about the crisis of high energy cost and food shortage in much of the developing world. (Obviously an ongoing problem, the news gave it attention for one weekend and then let it go to cover Jeremiah Wright, so, so sad, but that’s another entry). Of course there are a lot of layers as to why and what we can do about it, but much of it points back to our consumption and waste. We live on a planet that is rich with life and yet needs a balance of ecosystems to make it work. So often we assume that what “I do in my home” doesn’t affect people in other parts of our world. I think the recent news coverage of this food crisis has pretty much exposed that as an illusion or ignorance.

Recently I watched a video called “Strange Days on Planet Earth” by National Geographic. In the documentary, one scientist began to study the disappearance of wildlife w/the exception in the increase of the baboon population in Ghana, Africa. This is not just about conservation of animals like lions, giraffes and other wildlife species. Nothing against Baboons, though I think they are so ugly and mean, but an overflow of them means dire consequences for PEOPLE. It means greater risk of disease, more children staying home from school to protect the farms—and a lack of education always has a negative effect on a local economy that is a part of a larger one that competes within a global market.

Investigation into the history of wildlife revealed that locals were hunting them for bush meat, unusual b/c the Ghanaian diet consists mostly of fish. When the catch of fish is bad, the price of it goes up; the bush meat is cheaper and the over killing of wildlife begins. Here is where you and I in America or in more developed countries come in—the bad catch of fish is not always due to a natural phenomenon. Our voracious demand for things like fish, fuel, or just about anything requires artificial means that produces toxins and mass production that depletes our resources before they can replenish in a healthy and good way. I could go on, but I’ll leave it here for you to consider the effect your habits, consumption and demands has on others.

If I’m not called to be a nun or to live like Shane Claiborne, what does it mean for me to live as a believer who doesn’t “conform to the patterns of this world”? There are many ways of course, but one that I wouldn’t have automatically considered was living simply and with minimal waste. I and those of you who can afford to read these blogs usually live in a culture and society that is constantly telling us what we lack and what we need. “Just do more of this or buy more of this and you’ll be happy.” “What? Your children don’t have this yet?” “Just use that, life will become so much easier and less of a hassle.” For me, reflecting on the ecosystem, the high energy and crisis of food shortage has helped me to see how much I still follow the patterns of this world—at the cost of our beautiful planet and the people I think I care about.

Intensely Beautiful

2008-04-26T11:27:00.000-07:00

Watch this video to experience an intensely beautiful moment. It's 50 minutes total, but if you don't want to listen to the whole thing, go to the 40 minute mark and wait. I just learned about this guy Shane Claiborne. He was featured on a program on NPR. He is not a dynamic speaker, but his words are powerful because of the way he lives.

Here is an excerpt from Shane Claiborne's book, The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical. Chapter 5

“Coming out of college, my friends and I were pretty unwilling to “conform to the pattern of this world,” as the Scriptures say (Rom. 12:2). We knew all too well most people would take it, but we also knew that there is a narrow way that leads to life, and we wanted to find it (Matt. 7:13 – 14)….

We went to the ghetto. We narrowed our vision to this: love God, love people, and follow Jesus. And we began calling our little experiment the Simple Way. In January 1997, six of us moved into a little row house in Kensington, one of Pennsylvania’s poorest neighborhoods, just minutes from old St. Edward’s cathedral. It felt like we were reinventing the early church for the first time in two thousand years. (We were quite ignorant.)

We have always called ourselves a tax-exempt 501c3 antiprofit organization. We wrestle to free ourselves from macrocharity and distant acts of charity that serve to legitimize apathetic lifestyles of good intentions but rob us of the gift of community. We visit rich people and have them visit us. We preach, prophesy, and dream together about how to awaken the church from her violent slumber. Sometimes we speak to change the world; other times we speak to keep the world from changing us. We are about ending poverty, not simply managing it. We give people fish. We teach them to fish. We tear down the walls that have been built up around the fish pond. And we figure out who polluted it.”
If you want to read more…check out http://www.thesimpleway.org/shane/sampler.pdf

Still don't know too much about him. We all have ways of living out our call, but ever since I learned of this ministry and watched this video I have been challenged and moved. Hope you will be too. When I watched this video for the first time, I focused on the nun as the incarnational presence of Christ, but the more I watch it, the more I see Jesus in the eyes of the little boy who looks at her.