The Risks We Take

One issue that has weighed heavily on my heart recently is that of accountability.
What do we require?
What is required of us?
In the priesthood of all believers we are all called to be representatives for Christ in the world.
So what does God require?

So often it seems as though we are unwilling to deal with the difficult tasks before us.
We try to push the problem off,
onto someone else,
further down the road,
away from where we are.
More often than not we use our religion as a crutch.
We use our churches as barricades,
walling ourselves in
and actively working to keep those who do not resemble us

Out.

The other day I was reading an article that described the business practices of the bulk goods store: Costco.
The purpose of the article was to talk about the stark difference in business practices between Costco and their largest competitor, Walmart.
Apparently, Costco has become known as a company that is significantly more friendly to its employees than most other big chains.
Their average pay is higher,
their health insurance plans are generally better,
and their average worker turn-over is significantly lower.
What surprised me about the article was what some analysts have begrudgingly said about their business practices:

It's better to be an employee than a shareholder.

Now I don't know who the analyst is that made that statement,
nor do I know their convictions or their faith.
So my thoughts about it are not directed at them.
However,
it does make me wonder what the Christian response should be.
What the response of the priesthood of all believers should be.

That one analysts's statement brings to mind a few others:
Proverbs 16:19
Better to be lowly in spirit along with the oppressed than to share plunder with the proud.
Psalm 84:10b
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

This is the disconnect for me. Something about that analysts's statement doesn't sit right in the light of these texts. It doesn't fit.
The message coming from the biblical texts is one that subverts our understanding of what positions of honor or respect look like. These biblical texts subvert what we might think is owed to us.


James Cone, in his work "Risks of Faith" asks an important question:
"Whose Earth Is It, Anyway?"
His response is Psalm 24: "The earth is the Lord's and all that is in it."
All of creation belongs to God.
That means that everything from the air we breath,
to the molten core of the planet,
to the germs that inhabit our bodies,
to the very next person we meet,
and even we belong to God.
Cone argues that we are held accountable by God in what we do with that.
Do we really listen to our sisters and brothers who look different from us?
Who think differently?
Who were brought up on the other side of town?
In my denomination there are people of many backgrounds,
from countries around the world.
And yet,
in the U.S. 93% of the church is white.
Do we really know our sisters and brothers who are different?
In talking about the Youth Lounge program at Broadway United Methodist Church in Chicago, Pastor Lois McCullen Parr describes what it's like to run a program that feeds and provides a "hang-out" space  in the church for 50-70 LGBTQ youth, many of who are without a home, two Saturdays a month.
When asked why other organizations aren't running the same program she says:

"The way we operate is, some people would say, risky. We don't have rules published at the door. We don't make people show us an ID or leave their bags anywhere. Some people would say: You're asking for trouble."-1 Windy City Times

But she also says that taking that risk is worth it because, "when you treat people with love and respect, they respond, and they rise to the occasion."-2 Windy City Times 


Rudy Rasmus outlines the Apostle Paul's understanding of accountability in his book "Touch."
He says there are three big points for Paul:
Attitude,
Activism,
And Authority.
Attitude is exemplified in Paul's instruction to be humble as modeled after the life of Jesus.
Humility is the surrendering of oneself in belonging to God.
Humility is coming to be committed to belonging to God.
Activism comes from the actual work of Jesus, in loving all that we encounter.
Activism is what we choose to do with our faith, how we live into our belonging to God.
Authority is what comes from the Holy Spirit.
The Spirit of God gives us the power that is necessary to be servants,
to care more for another than our own profit.

Rasmus says: "I warn people that following Christ might make their lives more complicated--at least for a while."(p.121)
There are risks to following Jesus,
because in doing so we render ourselves accountable to God and to all of creation.
When creation groans, we groan.
When we shut out others, we shut out ourselves.
When we put our profit margins above creation, we put wealth above God.
Following Christ is not easy because following Christ isn't about "me",
or what "I" want.
Following Christ is not easy because it doesn't fit neatly into a market or a government.
Following Christ requires taking risk,
being bold.
Following Christ is giving more than we've got,
receiving more than we can handle,
loving when we don't feel it,
hoping when we can't see it,
praying when there are no words,
and speaking truth even when it comes at a great personal cost.
What does God require of you?

Who will you actively love?
What pain will you heal?
How much will you surrender to follow Christ?


What risks will you take?



1 & 2. Erica Demarest. "Lakeview pastor talks 'love work' LGBTQ Youth Series from Windy City Times" Windy City Times 11 Nov. 2012

The Things God is Terrible At (And Why That’s Good News for Us.): POTUS

My brother posted an interesting comment that he had read concerning the current political race in these United States. The poster had declared that the incumbent president was practicing love for "the (the U.S.) enemies" and that the poster prayed to God that the incumbent president would not see a second term. To which my brother noted was "invoking God to go against the teachings of Jesus."

That, I think, is very interesting.

A while back I had started (and admittedly did not finish) a series of posts call "The things that God is terrible at, and why that's good for us."

POTUS is one of those things that I think fits into that series.

While the owner of the subject comment was likely unaware of the implications of the scenario that they conjured up, they do raise an interesting point.

God/Jesus would be a terrible POTUS.

All of the things that we generally cherish in this country concerning our "rights" or "freedoms" or order of governance would come to question under the presidency of Jesus.

How would candidate Jesus fair when it comes to questions of international policy?
What about Iran?
or better yet, Al Qaida/Osama bin Laden?

Seems a policy that reflected "loving one's enemies" (Matthew 5:43-44) would the answer, but certainly not the one that would be popular among the U.S. populace.

What about Gun Control? Second Amendment rights?

Swords in Plowshares? (Isaiah 2:4, Micah 4:3)
That leaves us a little defenseless, doesn't it candidate Jesus?

What about the judiciary system? or the death penalty?

You've been through that and aren't a fan eh? (Luke 23:34, Romans 2:1-4)

What about nationalism? Love for one's country?

The people of God are called to be unlike the other nations? To not have a system of governance or to have interests for self over God? (1 Samuel 8)

The reality is this, there is no candidate that appropriately reflects the teachings of Jesus/God in their governance or their life. There is no "Christian" candidate, in the sense that there is no Christ-like candidate.
So while the commentator's assertion about the POTUS would be radical and Christ-like, it just isn't true. Heck, the incumbent president ordered and celebrated the execution of one of "our" enemies.

But the most disturbing part about the conversation is the hypothetical implication: That followers of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Messiah, the True Life, The King of Kings, would never elect Jesus for president because that guy would just be way too radical to follow.

Jesus would make a "terrible" president and, honestly, I'm okay with that.

Dying is Dangerous

A while ago I was sitting in my class on worship and we were talking about the images of Baptism. One of those images is death. In the original Baptism practice, full submersion, the baptized go from one state of being; as they were, to submerged, to coming out of the water anew. That practice of going under the water is meant to convey being put into the ground, the “final” act in life. However, the person is brought out of the water and back into life as something different. As we talked about this the sentence, “Dying is Dangerous” came up, and this got me thinking.

Regrettably, one of the biggest and earliest failures in my Christian understanding was to fail to answer a question from a classmate of mine. This person, seeking to challenge my faith and to explain her own problems with Christianity, asked how I could accept a faith that was bent on the concept of death. Paul clearly says, as recorded in the book of Romans: 

“We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his. For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin—because anyone who has died has been set free from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.” (Romans 6:4-8)

To her these words seemed particularly negative and reminiscent of modern “cult” experiences like those in Waco, Texas during the 90’s. I hadn’t considered myself particularly knowledgeable about scripture or matters of faith when she asked, and my response was empty. I simply said that that wasn’t what was meant. Paul had been talking about something else. Christianity didn’t require its members to die. How could it? I thought of all of the church folk that I knew; they all lived fairly comfortable lives, in suburbs, in the U.S., and had been like that for a while. There was little that was actually dangerous about the faith.

Now that I revisit this conversation later in life, I come slightly more prepared. I think about what the life of a Christian was like as Paul is writing the letter to the Roman churches. 

This letter is his last. 

He is seeking help in pushing his evangelistic ministry further West. 

He is captured.

He is executed.

He never makes it West of Rome.

The church is not merely a building or a space where people gather to worship. It is literally the flesh and blood of a small group of Jews and Gentiles who have become convinced that there was something greater than a man in a carpenter that was executed in Jerusalem. 

This church is desperately trying to survive.

They are persecuted.

They are executed.

They are kicked out of their communities.

They are small.

They are weak.

There is little that is comfortable for the church during the first century and up until Constantine, when the church becomes the official religion of the state. Professing faith in Jesus of Nazareth was akin to treason. The choice for the early church was Caesar or God. Choosing Caesar meant some form of marginal existence under the empire. So what did choosing God leave someone with?

Death.

Paul goes on in Romans 6: “For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus. Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its evil desires. Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness. For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace.” (Romans 6:9-14)

For the life that Jesus lived, a life that didn’t work with the first century understanding of law, he was executed. That life was so outside of the norm of the day that it didn’t sit right with those in power.

Not the Pharisees

and later,

Not Caesar.

To be a Christian is to follow the life of Jesus, which means accepting the earthly consequences of that life. However, the story of Jesus doesn’t end there.

Not on the Cross.

Not in the Grave.

There is one thing that Jesus and Caesar have in common. They are both conquerers. Caesar had conquered life, possessing the ability to end life on a massive scale. The story of Jesus reveals that Jesus has conquered death, possessing the ability to make death obsolete. When Paul says that we have been united with Christ in death, he is talking about being united in true life. 

Life that cannot be destroyed.

Life that cannot be conquered.

Life that Caesar does not control.

That which has separated God’s creation from God no longer has any power. God’s ultimate gift to humanity is the freedom from bondage. The first Christians were willing to put away the things that they had been doing, which had separated them from God, because those things could no longer persuade them that they were free. They were willing to follow God because they believed that while Caesar could end their immediate life, he could not have final victory. God had already claimed that prize.

Perhaps this all seems too foreign to so many today because the church in the U.S. is no longer persecuted. I believe that God’s vision for the church is one filled with things upside-down. The church is at its best when its members truly believe that professing their faith, that choosing to follow God, is a sacrifice.

When comfort is no longer found.

When flesh and blood are the church.

When we leave 99 for 1.

When we rejoice for the lost.

When we learn from the foolish.

When we embrace our enemy.

When we give all we have.

When dying is dangerous

and living is impossible.

Gifts

Almost every night we do an evening worship session with our groups to give them a space to digest what they experienced during the day and relate those experiences to their faith. Tonight we asked the groups about gifts, and how their service relates. My coworker said something that I found to be very thought provoking. She said, “You guys have come here for a week and your experiences will last a week. But what you are doing, Ken will be living in that house for the next 3, 5, 10 years. The work you are doing in this week will be with him for a long time.” In other words, the actions that we carry out, the decisions we make, or even the gifts we give, may only last with us a short time, or in some memory. However, those same actions will continue to have an effect on someone else for a very long time. 

As I think about this revelation it reminds me of worship last night, where we talked about how God asks us to be a light and to do good. One of the questions we asked the youth was, why? Why does obeying that matter? Why should we do good things? If my coworker is right, it is because the effects of our actions last far longer than we may anticipate. God is asking us to act out of love because the choices we make will stick with others for a while and therefore the effects of our actions become magnified.

When folks come into the city and take pictures of all the abandoned buildings and then call them the “face” of Detroit, that has a lasting impact on the image of the city. When shows like Detroit 187 go on the air and claim to be the “real” Detroit, that has a lasting impact on the “safety” of the city. (By the way I know some folks who walked by one of the “murder” scenes from the show, all while being perfectly safe and enjoying their day in the real Detroit). When people talk about the “race riots” of the 60's and forget the race riots of the 40's, that has a lasting impact on the race relations in the city. 

When we go to work in the neighborhood and mow a few abandoned lots, that has a lasting impact on the safety of the neighborhood. When we are able to make a formerly unlivable house, livable again, that has a lasting impact on the quality of life in the neighborhood. When we till the land and successfully grow a crop of corn, that has a lasting impact on the hunger of the neighborhood. Because we do all of these things, instead of what so many other people do, we have a lasting impact on the faith of the neighborhood. It never ceases to amaze me when people see what our groups are doing and then come out and help. It also never ceases to amaze me, when I have a conversation with someone who stops by in the neighborhood and tells me that this work has restored their faith in God and what small acts of kindness are capable of doing.

We are to be lights in the world and do good, because a small act of kindness can go a long way, but so too can a small act of selfishness. That is why God is so good, because God allows us to minister to one another through love. Every group that comes in takes away the knowledge that they gave something of themselves, and that something will continue to grow and spread for a very long time.

Witness

You can drive down any block in the neighborhood that I work in and find a mixed bag. The average block has about 6 abandoned/foreclosed/burnt-out houses for every twenty that exist. Some have far more, some have far less. The Cody-Rouge neighborhood is on the West side of Detroit, just south of Brightmoor and just north of Dearborn. The average income is around $5,000, and the state of the economy and rate of joblessness isn’t helping. The stories that I hear from folks are all the same: “We were doing fine, but now that I’ve lost my job, I’ve got no where to go. We’re stuck, and the bills and repairs keep piling up.”

Cody-Rouge is a neighborhood that is struggling to keep its head above water. The good news is that it is succeeding, but not without its share of struggles. The other day I sat down in the JSCDC office to review applications for the next week’s projects. One of the hardest parts about the work I’m doing right now is that there are so few funds to spread around. When I looked through the enormous stack of applications I was overwhelmed with the size of many of the projects. My job was to pick a few that a group of unskilled volunteers could work on, that could be priced out at around $500 a project. Unfortunately, most of the projects required massive roof work, or plumbing, or electrical. The roof work is incredibly expensive and the plumbing and electrical require skilled labor. Many of the applicants will be left waiting until those gaps can be filled. This was the first time I was able to actually take a look at this seasons applications since I started working for Motown Mission in June. I knew the need had been great, but I was finding myself overwhelmed with the information in front of me. Each application is filled out by hand, so each one is incredibly personal. There is a lot you can tell about a person from the way they write, what they ask for, and how they ask for it. Each application is a hope, a prayer, a chance at a better reality. Each application represents a real person, who had committed the unforgivable crime of falling on hard times, only to look up and find no one there to help out. JSCDC is often a last line of defense in some parts of the neighborhood, the only barrier that is left between a real community and an abandoned section of city property. 

That’s why the work that the volunteers do here is so important. Every day that they are out working, breathes new life into the community. Every day that they are mowing a lawn, painting a house, playing with some kids, mortaring new front steps, painting a swing set, praying with a homeowner, planting some corn, or trimming an overgrown bush, awakens neighbors to the realization that there is something about this community worth saving, worth fighting for. Just today while the group was sitting out in front of the house, taking lunch, three different folks walked or drove by and thanked us for the work we were doing, saying how much they appreciated the difference we were making.

Part of my job over the next few weeks will be to review how we can improve over the next couple of years and help connect those folks with some greater needs to some folks with great heart. As we finish up this summer, the pile of applications still exists, and it keeps growing. But the neighborhood has come alive, and for every application that comes in, more hands from around the block come out to help. If that isn’t the power of the witness of God at work, then I don’t know what is.

Coming Soon

I'm sorry I've been out for some time now, things have been extremely busy. This past summer I was living in Detroit and working as an Intern for Crossroads and Young Leaders Initiative. That experience has led me to fall in love with Detroit. There's a lot of work to be done in that city, but it's full of hard working, good people. I will be leaving for Poland on the 9th, a service trip through my college that seeks to reconcile the horrors of the Holocaust by keeping the memories of families murdered, during the Holocaust, alive. We will be working in a Jewish cemetery, clearing the brush and rectifying lost gravestones. This is important because the preservation and dignity of the body is very important to Jewish tradition. Since the relatives of those graves we will be working with have all been killed, no one who would normally care for the graves exists. To honor those murdered in the Holocaust we will carry out the task of maintaining that hallowed ground in their stead. I will set a link to the blog for that trip as soon as I can, and hopefully I will be able to maintain my own thoughts here. I will return from Europe on the 28th, and hopefully move in to Detroit shortly after. Stay tuned.

Journey On

February 23, 2008

Now we head back to the United States. Right now we are on a bus to Accra to stop at the hotel before we leave on our flight. Last night was pretty wild. We took Maamaye to the hospital for chest x-rays. We weren’t sure if we would have to stay longer or not. Dennis stayed back with Maamaye, Vida and Rita at the hospital while the rest of us headed back to the hotel. Jeff, Ciarra, a Muslim guard and I all prayed in my room that night for Maamaye. Our new Muslim friend did the prayer for us and his words were beautiful. Around 11:30, they came back and told us that Maamaye had bronchitis and she would be fine, she just needed some medication. Looks like our friend’s prayer worked, Allah Akbar. We were relieved until around 12:30, when Katherine started throwing up. Fortunately Ciarra was there to help her and she immediately went to get Dennis so he could help. Dennis got her on meds so she was fine, just a little groggy. Then early this morning, when Ciarra was doing wake up calls, she found that Myra was feeling ill too and had been throwing up. Through out this early morning drama we were all worried about getting everybody home. Fortunately for us, God is still at work and for the moment it seems as though we will all make it home in one piece. Now we just have to pray that God will protect us as He always has. I was going to end there… however, as it turns out our flight is canceled for the next 36 hours… sweet right? Well, I guess here’s to sitting back for a day, hopefully rest is in our future and a safe travel home. I think I’m going to go grab a Coke now and chat up a little theology with the pastor. Sabbath, Amen.

Holy Communion

February 22, 2008

We missed our opportunity to visit the King Jesus Orphanage yesterday, so we decided to say goodbye to the kids this morning. We had also decided that we would drop off our food supplies we had bought for them yesterday. I got to see my friend again; his name is still unknown to me but seeing his smile makes up for that. These children are stuck in a system that will probably never give them their full potential. The government here makes it very expensive and difficult to adopt one of these children, but if someone has a strong enough calling and enough determination, it is possible. I wish there was more that I could do right now for these kids, maybe someday I can do for them what they have already done for me. As we left the orphanage, I felt like crying but I held back and settled for some good hugs instead. As our bus pulled away I expressed the only words I knew how, to my friend I signed, I love you, Jesus loves you. I do not know what else I can say, my heart goes out, my eyes cry, and my soul longs to help, but the bus still pulls away.
Our next stop was back to the Cultural Center to stock up on Penny Project goods and finish our gift shopping. Afterwards we had some time at the hotel before dinner, only to find out that dinner wasn’t exactly ordered yet, so we would have to do dinner later than planned. Fortunately, Mrs. Gisila arrived at around 5 o’clock. Chatting with her gave some great insight into the SPANKO project and where it’s heading. She said that they have now started a German chapter (Gisila is a German native), and that people from all over were starting to get involved. The children in Ghana will benefit greatly. This relieved me as it seemed clear that this was a partnership we would love to continue. After dinner we parted ways with Gisila and we were headed to Rev. Twum’s church for some cultural dancing and a send off. The dancing was amazing, especially considering it was all performed by the youth of the church. They even had a skit on HIV/AIDS in Africa. Some of the people were laughing when, in one act, one of the men was expressing clear ignorance of the disease and did not want to touch the hand of his daughter. I may have laughed too, if I didn’t know how real that was. The First United Women had told stories very similar to the one being acted out. It’s real.
After the performance we went to the Twum’s parsonage. There, waiting, was a vision of Christ’s communion. We shared our love for one another and we gave gifts and drank orange Fanta. We expressed our gratitude and thanks for all of their work and partnership and they thanked us for coming into their lives. The communion table was set. It was a coffee table in a crowded living room. The members were from continents separated by a vast ocean, a people separated by language and color. As we held hands and prayed together, Christ was among us. The bread was our gifts, our thanks and our hearts for one another, and the wine was orange Fanta. God had never set a more perfect table. The vision for the future, for the world and for heaven can be seen expressed everyday here. I only hope that as we depart from our friends and loved ones here that we do justice to their stories and God’s story. This is what communion looks like, this is sacred, this is Holy.

Christ's Banquet

February 21, 2008

There is a line drawn in mission work. There is a fundamental problem when it comes to handling field work and appropriating funds. We visited an up and coming SPANKO orphanage being overseen by a fellow Michigander and a member of our church. Mike is a Michigan State grad, in his mid twenties. He has taken 5 kids in the area under his wing, all teenagers and has dedicated himself to being their father. He has a big heart and big ideas. I was in awe when he took us on a tour of his new orphanage he was overseeing. From an American’s eyes the buildings are phenomenal, the education system sounds great and everything seems to be heading in the right direction. But as we listened to Mike tell us of his plans, I could hear two of our Ghanaian friends talk of how the classrooms were too big, his ideas of bringing in washing machines to eliminate the need for the more traditional washing day were too American. I can sympathize both ways. From Mike’s perspective, Ghana’s education system is broken, the children are often under or not educated, women have far less opportunity than men and parents are often ignorant of the value of learning. Maybe Mike is right, maybe what the system needs is a radical transformation, a new breath of life. On the other hand, I can understand how tradition is important, how often Americans seek to inject their values and beliefs on societies unlike their own and how stupid white men must seem. The problem is that there is no right answer. We have to trust that God will use us in all of our endeavors and we must always pray that He gives us the clarity to discern what is of God and what is of us.
After visiting Mike we traveled to the Mmofroturo girls school once more to say goodbye and to present them with a brand new laptop, printer, ink, paper, and to commit to their library. When Jeff was expressing how much we appreciated their mission and goals, he invited Kevin up to take the mic for a little interview. The girls loved it, as Jeff said “Kevin’s a rock star.” After our meal with the head of the school we were taken on a tour of the entire complex so we could get a better sense of what they needed. They took us to the grade school so we could see the younger kids in class and meet them. When we were walking in between classrooms, there was a man outside selling newspapers, of which the headline read: “Bush Bull Shits,” referring to his visit to Ghana this week and his tour of West Africa. We all got a kick out of that. Once we had met all of the grade school students, the men and women separated and the guys got to play a little with the preschoolers who are in need of better classrooms, one’s that they can have for themselves. They are all very cute and they found Jeff and Dennis to be very funny. While Jeff, Dennis and I were playing with the little girls, Kevin was being mobbed outside for his number, address and pictures with the girls. As soon as we stepped outside we were all mobbed too. Pictures seem to fascinate people here, they love getting their picture taken, even if they can’t keep it. As the guys were heading back to our bus to leave we ran into a wall of girls, all in their colorful dresses. Boat turned to me and asked me if I had seen the “new” students. I had no clue what he was talking about so he showed me. Ciarra and Katherine had been fitted and had each been given one of the school dresses!
When we left the school I was feeling the presence of God in that place. The school is one of the projects that makes me proud to be a Methodist, a school that encourages women to take on a bigger role, educate themselves and express their individuality through their dresses. We traveled on to another market, but this time there was an actual grocery store. I stocked up on some Ghanaian chocolate. We hit the road again, but back to the hotel. We had a few hours to relax, but we were all very anxious. Tonight was a night to party, a night to celebrate. God was here, Christ was walking among us and we were going to celebrate as Christ commanded. Tonight the First United Women came to have a night of dinner and dancing. They came to deliver the clothing we had ordered and to celebrate our partnership and friendship. When they arrived the music was blaring (as usual in Ghana), games of Owari were being played, and dinner was served. That dinner was probably the best one yet. It felt so good to eat amongst friends here. The women brought extra fabric with them and set up a stand on the edge of our party. There were actually guests at the hotel coming out to check out the celebration and ended up purchasing some of the fabric. One of the women came up to me and asked me to dance, so we did. Even the hotel staff were celebrating and dancing with us. Mike showed up with his kids and we talked about the difficulties of working in Ghana for hours.
When the night was done Jeff wandered back into our room and he had a story to tell me. He told me that he had a talk with some of our friends who were on staff at the hotel. He said that they asked him what the purpose was of this party tonight, who the women were. They had said they had had a lot of fun dancing with the women and they thought they had made some friends. Jeff figured, why not. So he told them who they were, why there were there and what we were about. Jeff said he had never seen people loose their color so quickly before. Their response seemed like a mixture of anger, confusion and worry. The stigma here is real. He reminded me of the parable Jesus tells of heaven being like a party; a party where none of the guests you invited show up, they are all too busy. So instead you invite those on the street, the people who never get invited. Tonight we were in heaven. Jeff told the staff that they had just been to heaven, they looked at him like he was crazy. But it was real. This is the vision Christ had for the world. Heaven is real. I’ve seen it, I’ve danced with the uninvited, I’ve shared songs and stories, held hands and hugged. I’ve met God and I will trade this experience for nothing this world has to offer.

Economy of God

February 20, 2008

Today ought to be an interesting day. We aren’t really involved in any hands on ministry today. Our purpose this Wednesday is to meet with Opportunity International and discern whether or not our missions are compatible. We were in meetings with reps from Opp. International until about 3:30 today. Today was also our wake up at 6:30 day . The level of tired I am experiencing is pretty amazing in itself. Once we got going we were joined for breakfast by their rep who is a Ghana native, but was educated and raised in England. I just thought it was funny that instead of saying “we had people signing up left and right.” She would add “left, right and center.” That made me smile. We took the bus over to their head quarters in Kumasi and sat down with some of their reps who were brought up in Ghana, some of which had rags to riches stories. They had attempted to explain everything about their business making microloans. It was important however that we meet the people and see how transactions are made and business is conducted. They always take their loans to the people and do community meetings. When we arrived in the community there seemed to be a party going on at one of the homes. There were about 50 women singing and dancing and celebrating the arrival of the Opportunity International people and the meeting. Business is conducted underneath a tent where the Opp International people sit in the center and take questions and listen to personal testimonies. All of the women we met praised the work done there and had told stories of how prosperous they had become and how much the money loaned to them had helped. The transactions were transferred in the meeting and the women who were scheduled to take out money had to thumbprint as a signature and although it was a group loan they had to sign individually and take different amounts with explanations for each. The next thing on our agenda was to visit some of the area shop owners who were receiving loans. The first woman we met had started her business selling charcoal for cooking. Thanks to the loans, she has been able to purchase and build a storage shed where she plans on selling water, an expansion of her business. The next to shops we saw were pretty similar, selling a variety of small goods and packaged food. Everyone we talked to had said that the loans had empowered them to do things that they otherwise would be unable, and they all expressed great gratitude for the assistance the loans gave them. We all said our goodbyes and had to leave for our last stop, the market. I’m not quite sure if I can properly describe what the market is like. Off of the road the land dips down and creates a kind of bowl. In this bowl is the market, and all along the sides of the bowl on the road is the market. Shops were placed one right after the other and the distance between shops that were “across” from one another couldn’t have been more than 3 feet. Where we were harassed in the Bonewire village, here was the exact opposite. There were far too many people for anybody to care about a couple of white folks. We had to walk a good distance before we actually descended into the market. The market is hot, hectic, and pungent. People are everywhere, you are constantly in contact with other people and there are so many goods in one place you can become dizzy quiet easily. We decided that we would only visit one or two people who had shops there as a result of loans because it was so hot.
Our question for the day was whether or not this was a partnership we would pursue. The lending office had also become a bank, due to request they say, so there were other aspects to now consider, such as savings plans and exactly how much this company was earning. The vision was a non-profit, and our question is if that still exists. From the looks of things it does, and the work being done is obviously good for the people here. My question is over how well this lines up with its inventor’s ideas; from Burma to Ghana. There is a long road ahead and there is much discernment to be done, but I believe that our decisions are not over whether or not our money is best spent here, but whether or not this project is in line with and economy of the least, an economy of fools, the economy of God.

Discernment

February 19, 2008

This morning started off with a meeting, and quite an important/symbolic one at that. This morning we were meeting with the Bishop of the Kumasi area. We were meeting with him to discuss the progress of our project and to express our appreciation for his support and our partnership. He represents our Methodist brothers and sisters here in Kumasi and my first impression of him is a man who is full of joy and compassion. His continued work with our project and willingness to work with the First United Women is a real showing of the body of Christ. He promised to continue to aid our work here and our partnership. I was chosen to hand over the Penny Project’s gift of appreciation to him and say a few words… no big deal right? After our meeting with the Bishop we had intended to head back to the bus, only to find out that mama Twum (Rev. Twum’s wife) teaches at the school right behind the building we were at. So we went over to see the kids, interrupt class and gather crowds of children together for pictures. The moment we pulled out camera’s the kids flocked around us. There were actually two children who got into a little fight after one of them fell on the other. Yeah, believe it or not even children in Methodist schools in Ghana get into little scuffs. One interesting thing that I learned was that blue and yellow are the colors of the Methodist school uniforms here, so every time I see a kid wearing those colors I know there’s a fellow Methodist. Once the children were done mobbing us for pictures, there’s some crazy video of Kevin Furlong getting mobbed, we had to jump on the bus and grab some lunch. It should be no surprise that I can’t remember what we ate for lunch, but I can guarantee it was some sort of chicken, with either rice or noodles (or both), and fishermen’s soup (which may or may not include fish). When we got back to the bus we went driving to a Methodist hospital that the youth visited on the last trip. Rev. Twum decided however, to make a surprise visit to his retirement home that is currently under construction. It was in a gated area, we had to walk through a narrow street to get to it. Once he opened the gate to his home, the home it self was quite nice. He gave us a little tour and Rita gave me the task of drawing water from their well. This is a task that would normally not be too difficult except for the depth of the well. It was probably 100 feet down. When I was done drawing water for the garden we were off to the hospital once more.
The hospital was a pretty powerful experience for me and for everybody on the trip. It was a small hospital and pretty shocking by our standards, but you could definitely see the miracles and blessings of God. The entrance to the hospital was an open roofed waiting room with smaller rooms lining the outside of the courtyard. People waited on wooden benches underneath tents and there were chickens and roosters waltzing around. From there we checked out the Intensive Care Unit, where there was a small child sleeping and being cared for by four nurses. The room had several beds and a fan in the middle, with a small desk for the nurses. Afterwards, we walked back across the courtyard to the laboratory. From what I understand they had some fairly decent equipment and they were able to treat people with all kinds of ailments. They also had a birthing area, a surgical area and a x-ray room. Upstairs were the wards, male and female and where we met a child who had both of her legs wrapped because of a crippling fall. There were several mothers in the room with their children, sitting by their child’s bed, holding their hands, rubbing their backs, attempting to comfort them in any way possible. It was a powerful sight and it said a lot about the doctors, when you saw the mother’s eyes light up when they walked into the room. The doctors and nurses there do great work, for non-profit, and the community recognizes that. While we were there, there was also a team of dentists and opticians from California, who were dedicating their week to helping the children in the community. This hospital and the works that God does through the wonderful people there are one of the many things that the youth of the Penny Project had committed their hearts to, and I can see why. The administrator of the hospital is a man from Indiana and he said that if any of us would feel called from God to come back and work (they need any help they can get, all kinds of doctors, administrators, business people and especially, ministers) they would put us up and help us get there.
After the hospital visit I was feeling pretty emotional and I was considering some of the things the administrator had said. I wouldn’t get to entertain these thoughts fro very long however as we were heading to Bonewire, the Kente cloth village. The second we stepped off of the bus we were surrounded. People were grabbing at us, shoving their goods in our faces and constantly vying for our attention… and money. I immediately decided to follow Rita and Sally to the nearest shop to avoid the sellers. I ended up buying some Kente cloth for the Bonsell’s (the wonderful people who found in their hearts a calling from God to entirely enable me to travel here) but then had to leave the shop to find other goods. Apparently Ciarra was having some trouble as she most closely resembles the people here, so she is sort of an item of affection (and lust) for some men here. She had been offered a Cedi if she would come back to some of the men’s huts with them. I decided I would take her with me from there on out and stay very close to her the entire time.
After that experience we were all pretty tired. So Jeff, Kevin and I decided to check out the pool side at our hotel. I had bought a game similar to Mancala at the cultural center the day before and Boat had shown us how to play the Ghanaian version called Owari. So we grabbed a couple of Cokes, struck up some conversation with the woman who was bartending and played a couple of games of Owari. Eventually Ciarra came down and joined in. It seems a little weird having a pool and a bartender, but after a day like today, it was definitely well appreciated. Now I have time to discern my calling. Where is God calling me next? Could it be Ghana? Where is my ministry? One thing is for sure, never make plans, God will usually intervene in someway and mess them up.

Changes

February 18, 2008

Today was probably the busiest day yet. We started off with a trip to the orphanage. King James orphanage is a part of the SPANKO orphanage group (I add this only because I just realized it). The night before we had stayed up late and made packages for the children so that they can have school supplies and a new toy (beanie baby) as a reminder of love; we handed these packages out today and the kids were pretty excited about it. Some of the older ones weren’t so thrilled with the beanie baby but the whole package should go a long way. The first child that came up to me had a great smile on his face. I asked him his name and a said something, which I couldn’t hear, so I assumed he had responded in Twi, the main language. As it turns out, my new friend is deaf. So my goal between today and the next visit is to learn some sign. What I’ve learned however is the power of a smile and a hug. When I learned a small part of this child’s story, he was picked off of the street by police several days ago, my heart was warmed. He is a child who is more excited to be hugged and loved than to be linguistically understood. I am overwhelmed by the power of love here. I can’t wait to return and spend more time with the beautiful children there. After the orphanage we left for the First United Women’s shop. Our day had gotten off to a slow start so everything was very hectic. We arrived at the First United Women’s shop where there is no front door and all of the women are essentially standing outside. They sow in the “shop” and dye the cloth outside. The pictures from the surrounding area are pretty amazing. The level of poverty in the area is astounding. The vibrant colors of the dye that these women produce provide a stark contrast to the dusty, half assembled landscape. I can’t wait to show people the shirts that I purchased and the pictures of their cloths. Once we were done chatting with the ladies, buying cloth and making balloon animals for the women and some neighboring children, it was time to jump back on the bus and head to the Cultural Center. When we got to the cultural center we had about an hour and a half before closing so I had to rush around to get to the shops I wanted to see. I had been pulled aside by a man after making several purchases and he told me he had some good Djembes to sell. Well, he was wrong. His prices were high, his drums were small and they were not of good quality. When I made it apparent I wasn’t interested, his “associates” decided that they would try to persuade me to buy other goods. I learned a very good lesson; walk away. I then ventured up to the actual drum shop, where I got to see some fruits of some amazing labor. They showed me their “workshop,” which translates to a tree stump as a stool and a string to dry goat skins on. There were wood shavings everywhere, and they showed me a bunch of their photo’s of them making drums. They then let me hang out and drum with them so I could test the instruments and make a purchase. The three that I bought were pretty good quality and a really good value. The most important thing that I experienced personally was a realization of the change that God can place in our lives. We can never be comfortable with our situation or we become complacent and we will miss the beautiful opportunities before us. God has used this project to make Change and it can be seen in the dyed cloth of the First United Women, and on the faces of the children. This gives new meaning to our slogan, today has given it purpose and reality.

Chapel

February 17, 2008

This morning was Sunday morning, a morning to go to church, to worship and to learn about God. Well in Ghana, Sunday morning is quite an event. We drove out to Pastor Twum’s church, located beyond the main road, where there isn’t really a means for our bus to travel. So our bus pulled over to the side of the road and we walked back behind the small tin huts on the red dirt path, over the signature drainage ditch, and into the gated church area. When we entered the church we were greeted by warm smiles and good hosts. The service itself was unlike anything I had ever seen; several hours, three offerings (one of which was in response to our $800 donation to the youth program), a dance performance, the entire congregation doing a dance line (including the pastor!), and an enormous amount of curious children. Jeff delivered a powerful sermon, although some parts may have been lost in translation as our good friend, Boat, did his best to translate. After the service we got the opportunity to meet the youth of the church and hand out candy and photos. Lots of kids wanted autographs or addresses, which were of course given with a smile. We sang songs and played a little before they had Sunday school and we had the chance to chat with Pastor Twum in his parsonage. When we first got to the parsonage Boat was waiting with coke and sprite (a saving grace) and we had a chance to look around and view the beautifully decorated home of the Twum’s. We ate lunch at the parsonage, all of the food has been great, and we got to know everybody a little better. Afterwards, we walked back to the church and met with the group formally known as WOLPHA (Women Living Positively with HIV/AIDS). I say formally because of a moment, among many here (and at times few), that has reminded me why I am proud to be a part of the Methodist church. The women renamed their group First United Women, in honor of a little project and a certain church that made their existence possible . After hearing the testimonies of the women I was amazed at how touched I was by their stories. This meeting really helped to put a face to a cause and it is all starting to become real and make real sense.
After meeting with the First United Women we decided to head back to the hotel for a little rest and maybe a shower (Today has been a particularly hot day). Once we decided to get back on the road our bus had gone missing. So instead the hotel guys loaded us up into their trucks and were kind enough to drive us out to the MMoforuturo (The Garden) girls school. We spent the evening with the girls in worship, listening to their beautiful voices (They sing all parts, Soprano to Bass, by the way) and had dinner with their head “mothers.” We will return to the girls school later this week and we will actually get time to spend with the girls. Until then I will be thinking of the beauty that is realized here in Ghana from this small project. As Jeff has been putting it, big ideas only make sense in the particulars. This project has big ideals, but it is here, with a group of 40 women, a school of girls seeking an education (and the chance to become President) and a village of Orphans, that it makes sense. They are the particulars, they are the pennies, they are the church and Ghana is our Chapel. Amen.

El Mina

February 16, 2008

Today has been a very long day. After waking up somewhere between hysteria and groaning we gathered all of our things and boarded the bus to head to the coast. Today I may have been a little camera happy. So far I’ve taken about 100 photos and that’s with most of the time being spent on a vehicle. Driving through the country has been interesting. You can tell when you are traveling into the cities by the increasing amount of small houses. Seems like most of the housing I’ve run into has been pretty basic, four walls, the outside brightly colored and elevated above the road by dirt mounds. There are goats and chickens everywhere. The surprising thing is that they are allowed to roam freely without their owners watching. No matter what they always return each day. There are also people everywhere, even along the long stretches of dirt highways where there is nothing but thick vegetation on either side. People set up little stands along the main roads hoping to sell some sort of fruit or good. The purpose of our traveling to the coast was to visit the largest slave trading post in African tropics. El Mina was originally built by the Portuguese as a trading station for spices, gold and other materials. However, they quickly realized that there was a larger profit to be made in the selling of people. The storage compartments that were used to house materials like gold, were repurposed to house Africans. They would house about 150 people in each area, where the tour group I was with felt uncomfortable with only 30. There were no windows to the outside, there were three doors which were only for the purpose of moving people and there was a hole that leads into the munitions room, which often leaked deadly fumes. The men and women were kept separate and were given two buckets for waste. They were fed one meal a day and were often abused by guards. The women seemed to have it the worst as their torture included rape. If the woman refused, she would be tied up to a chain in the middle of the court yard which was surrounded by the women’s cells and she would be given no food or water for a day. When the governor was feeling up to it, he would have all of the women released into the court yard and then he would select one to go to his chambers with him, after she was bathed, had brushed her teeth, was fed and hydrated. If she was lucky, she would become pregnant and she would be allowed to leave and raise the child outside of the castle. The hardest part was making the walk to the point of no return. Just thinking about how many people had made that walk before, squeezed through the tiny doorways, single file, and seeing their loved ones for the first time in two months, before being separated again and shipped to another country to be sold, was enough to give chills. The castle traded hands several times, once to the Dutch and another to the British. When the Dutch came they installed a church on the second floor above the women’s cells. They believed that God was in that church and they vowed to do His work and even had a passage from Psalms 132 above the entry, as they profited and oversaw the selling, imprisonment and torture of the very people that were the European’s original mission’s project. It’s been a tough day, but no less a good day.

The Flight In

February 15, 2008

There has been so much in one day, the events themselves are difficult to describe. The hustle and bustle of this day will hopefully be met by a much calmer, relaxed morning tomorrow. As of 7:15 Ghanaian time, I was on Ghanaian soil. The excitement that was building up from the moment we had left Detroit can be summed up by our youngest member, Maamaya, the three year old daughter of Vida Twum, a Ghanaian member of my church, when asked where we were going, Maamaya responded with a childish joy that is difficult to describe, “Ghana!” When we had left Detroit we had no idea what our journey would look like. The last time a group left for Ghana from my church in June, they described a very different experience than what I have observed today. Whoever invented our T-shirts for us to travel in must have been someone resembling a genius. The bright lime green colors are a clear eye catcher and the picture of Africa on the front and back is enough to get people talking. Right away, as we were waiting in line at the ticket counters in Detroit people began to notice and they began to ask about our project. When we had landed in Amsterdam and were getting settled before our next flight we ran into several groups, also traveling to Ghana, who were going on a calling from God and need for God’s love here; that isn’t to say that the people of Ghana are not very close to God, but the fact remains that this is a third world country and is amongst those hurting as the result of many injustices. I should add that on neither flight was I able to attain very much sleep, so if this comes out as rambling and nonsensical, I’m operating on about 3 hours of rest that was very much interrupted. Most of my time was taken up by homework and after doing some reading for my African American History class, Maya Angelo’s book, I know why the caged bird sings, I was shaken hard and my heart longed for a way to connect. It is probably a feeling that I will never quite be able to convey, but needless to say there were events in her life that intersected mine, to some extent and some people who are very close to me and it was very difficult to hear her recount stories that I have heard so many times. It was right after reading this that one of the more interesting moments on our flights occurred when a man fainted due to stomach pains. Fortunately we had a doctor in our crew who was able to assist the man. It was also one of those times of prayer where you are touched deep inside by God. At the time I didn’t quite know what was going on, so my prayer was just for the world to stop hurting. Here I am, on a flight headed for Ghana, a country where the largest storing cells for slaves were kept, to go and make a feeble attempt to help some women shunned by the community, to help educate others and to show some love to children who are far too commonly forgotten.So Lord save us, move us towards that which is your will. Amen.