farm trip

over a week ago, ryan and i went to a local farm to help out a bit and see where food comes from. we had planned to do a more in-depth post on food and sustainability and wedellberryesque type stuff but time marched on and before you know it we have never written anything.
so here is a short post...

in short: we believe there is something sacred about reclaiming a respect and knowledge about where our food comes from. it is our hope that we can get to know a farmer, eat the food he helps create, participate in the miracle oursleves, and somehow enter deeper into grace and gratitude.

in practice: we are growing our own food in our backyards and in urban gardens. we are investing in (buying shares - see link) and getting to know our local farmers.

you can find out more about ways to connect with your local farmers here.

ryan working VERY hard

















ryan and farmer david














mountain view













goats (great milk and cheese...mmmm)

from africa

This is the return of the prodigal blogger. Let me begin by apologizing for contributing absolutely nothing to the group effort over the last several aeons. But I could not resist sharing the following two e-mails that I recently received from my friend Tamale in Uganda. Some of you might remember the story of Tamale & Engle, which I shared at the footwashing ceremony during Holy Week. For of those of you who do not, Tamale is a muslim convert to Christ, disowned by his family, who chose to take into his home a little girl (Engle) who was apparently being tortured and abused by her father. Since Uganda has nothing (to the best of my knowledge) even remotely similar to child protective services, Tamale worked out a handwritten agreement with the local police precinct that gave him custody of Engle (I actually saw the agreement while in Luwafu). Tamale gave an amazing testimony at a meeting that James and I attended, saying that he felt inspired by God to take Engle into his home as a way of thanking God for all of his goodness and grace. Sadly, as the text below indicates, we have received some difficult and all too common news concerning Engle's plight. I wanted to share it as a prayer request, and as a way of helping to diffuse my own grief. I have been in recent contact with Tamale (although I'm not always as prompt as I should be), and I still have a lot of hope for this situation and for the future of our work in Africa and elsewhere. We are trying to assist he and Engle as best we can. Their plight recalls to mind for me Psalm 126, which says, "Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy. They weep as they go to plant their seed, but they sing as they return with the harvest." This is the hope to which we cling as we confront the darkness of the world with the love of Christ. Thanks.........

(An e-mail forwarded to me by Linda Hutchinson)
Dear Sir,
I would like to thank you for all you`re doing over there also to request you send my greetings to the rest of members.
It was on 28-06-05 when I finished my final exams out of which I expect good results .Engle is not good at all because if I had had money on me she was suposed to be admited in the hospital and one of the tests they carried out on her proved that she is HIV (positive ) , other people say that I should take her back to her family there is none to show her love at all , for this case I`d like to request you advise me .
May you please send the same greetings to brother Bily because he never replies when I write .
God Bless you,
Tamale.

(An e-mail sent to me by Tamale)
Dear Sir,

It is my pleasure to hea r that Engle and I are still close to your heart , I felt happy when you sent me such an encouraging message ; throgh Psalms 41:1-13,I thank God for using you . One of Engle`s heaviest part of life is this because in addition to being suspected of being HIV positive, they are saying she has a hole near the lunhs as a result of the severe mistreatment for which her general care is proving to be harder but I don`t have an appropriate word to use as a way of expressing my joy to you for what you are labouring to do for the better up-keep of us .
I am not a whize at mathematics but of all signs used in it , + ,x ' these have a wider room in my heart , so with you it is my joy to hear that 02-08-05 will mark the start of our love being with us .
I request you to read Jeremayah 32:2 ,andJeremayah 33:26 for madam Maria ; 25678649957 is my mobile phone number and in all things I would like to remind you that our God t6he starter of nice jobs will always acomplish them ,continue keeping us in prayer .

God Bless You ,
Tamale

Gaps In Immortality

I grew up a pretty lucky person, in the country. This entails a lot of outdoor activity and a lot of hard living, because kids growing up in the country have to make there own fun. This “fun” usually involved a very high risk of bodily harm and with every birthday the risk of injury grows exponentially. Imagine a boy with 500 acres of land, a 4x4 jeep, a tractor, alcohol, and, of course, firearms. This situation was usually compounded by the presents of peer pressure from about 3 or 4 other teenage boys. Now, what our parents were thinking letting us have this type of freedom, I don’t know, but it was real easy to be unsupervised in this much space.
As one can imagine I got hurt a lot. I was involved in 5 vehicle wrecks – one of which made my truck look like a compacted beer can. I was involved in one accidental shooting, three dislocated joints, a sum total of about 45 stitches, and a year and a half of continuous physical therapy over the course of 5 years. This laundry list does not include all the vehicles, tractors, and 4 wheelers I screwed up over that period. One would think I would have a pretty good understanding of mortality, but you would be wrong. I thought I was immortal.
For the most part, I still act and think like I am immortal. My mortality only comes to the surface on rare occasions when I mentally or psychically look death in the face. As I was in the middle of one of these gaps in immortality this past week, I realized how much I take life for granted. But I am not sure if functionally you can live any other way than to take life for granted. What would a modern day life look like that had a healthy balance of mortality and immortality?

learning stuff

I'm having a hard time getting into the Bible right now. So, go figure, God's going to teach me about Himself through folks around me. The Great Teacher came to visit me yesterday-at the roller skating rink of all places. I take care of an 8-year old girl with behavioral disorders who had the worst day she's had in my seven months of working with her. She was lying on the floor of the skating rink whining for someone to help her (she can actually skate-she was just testing me). When i told her that it was time to leave-she grabbed a child's ankle and pulled him down. The fear in his eyes just hurt the heart. Her behavior was definitely spiraling down. Why, God, is this my burden now? Before I knew it, she grabs the hair on the top of my scalp and pulls for two minutes. I think it's still bruised up there. In comes God's grace, through Michelle and Desiree. I'll probably never see these women again. They pried her hands from my hair and helped me restrain her while I called for help on Desiree's cell phone. They sat there with me for 10 minutes (or longer) restraining her until help came. They, unfortunately, also suffered minor injuries from the incident. To watch this child go through this broke my heart. This is where humility was shining her face. There's really nothing I could do to snap her out of it. I began to suffer with her. Sobbing with her. It hurt (in many ways).I'm learning to understand gentleness. God has been teaching me this through pain and drawn blood. I can't respond to her the way I want to-by knocking her block off. I've got to respond with loving, gentle hands. She's so sensitive to that. Anyway, God's still on my case despite my lack of interest in the Bible. Maybe I'm learning more. Maybe He's taking me the long way back to the Bible. Maybe He just wants to show me His face. I'll certainly keep on looking.

a picture of jesus

In the midst of the most recent gallery hop night, Jodie and I found John and his art in a room covered with his creatures, and filled with people. The first thing I ever said to him was, "What made you put a penis on Jesus?" He had a lot of works featuring Christ in contexts other than those favored by organized religion (note my carefulness here). In an effort to not misrepresent John, I'll just say that some of the Jesuses had leather jackets, many had penises--there was a lot going on. In answer to my question, John smiled and explained that it was his understanding that Jesus was likely to have had a penis, and that nobody seems to want to talk about this. (It is true: even in a recent film touted as being painfully realistic with regard to violence, the director chose to tastefully conceal the Lord's genitals.) A brief talk ensued, and soon we were off to the next gallery.

A week later I was at John's again, buying one of his Christs (one where he is fully clothed, but in which the Lord's pupils are dialated for some reason.) We got to talking about his childhood, and his involvement with Church. He used to play in an old cinderblock church near his home, and he was sure his irreverence would be punished. As much as some of his paintings may have been offensive, John was disarming--easy to talk to.

And as we talked, I couldn't help but want him to come share his thoughts in our conversation on Sunday mornings. I wanted him to come, more for us than for him. So I actually brought it up. I felt like I did in high school, inviting a stranger to youth group. He kindly explained that sleep is too precious to him, but that our conversation had been meaningful to him. It was at this point that some learning began for me. John said that our talk had been meaningful because our divinities had met. There was a touch of the divine in me, and a touch in him, as there is a touch in every human. When we meet in love and respect, the divine is affirmed. This helps him to respect people he can't stand but has to deal with (I assume I am not in this category for John, but maybe). This was his motivation for right action.

This was so great for me to hear. I tend to err on the side of mistaking humanity as being fatally flawed. People constantly disappoint me; I often resent them/us. I forget these very ones are bearing God's image. I like the idea of carrying divinity around with me. Then I left the gallery with a painting of Jesus. I had the honor of walking home with Jesus. A part of me wanted to show everybody what John had done. I was looking for neighbors, looking for Jodie. At the same time I was afraid of not being worthy of bearing this image around town. I was a little embarrassed to have this Jesus in my hand. By the time I got home I was glad to bring him in and shut the door. I am the work that is in progress.

unimpressive but going places

this is us getting together to be reminded about who we are and whose we are. we gather in public which is a new and (i believe) import practice for us. by gathering in a public space (especially outdoors) we are scaled down to human size and we get a better sense of just how small we are. it is the opposite effect of gathering as church in a massive sanctuary with thousands of people where the whole world is shut out and all of God (it might seem) is inside with us. it seems to me that one of the best things we can do as humans is to be conscious of being restricted to a particular place while considering the cosmic scope of God's loving, missional reach. this practice will slowly engender an awareness of the unrelenting and gracious movement of God's embodied love from the particular to the universal...and back again.

this image brought a quote to mind (if you want to read more about the book this quote comes from, look over here) .

"The church is never far from the insignificance of Jesus and his band of unimpressive followers. It is always setting out from the particular in the direction of God's incalculable gift of everything." (p.18, Bible and Mission)

some Mountain Justice Summer pics

a kind thanks to us from the MJS crew...













Billy, Sherry, and the Samsons at the rally...













gathering at the High Street House after the rally and march...


























some local art (3rd St Stuff Coffee)

an answer to a question

last night in men's group we asked each other how we are. i opted out by saying i couldn't tell. i am currently reading a novel in which the main character is living with a guerlilla group in spain when the communists were trying to overthrow the fascist government. in this particular part he is in a discussion with a half-gypsy woman in the group. she was explaining to him how she can intuit certain things not explicit to sensory experience. he disagrees with her, explaining things in physiological language. she replies, "thou art a miracle of deafness. it is not that thou art stupid. thou art simply deaf. one who is deaf cannot hear music. neither can he hear the radio. so he might say, having never heard them, that such things do not exist." and then, "do not doubt what thou simply cannot hear or see. thou canst not hear what a dog hears. nor canst thou smell what a dog smells. But already thou hast experinced a little of what can happen to a man."

i don't think i can directly correlate my experience to the man's. i am not struggling with the exact things. but yet, in some way, i feel as though i am losing my hearing and neither my sight nor my smell are improving to compensate.

a seedy mob

another link...
this is a fantastic reflection from marcus curnow (urban seed, melbourne, australia). it amazed me that many of the things their community talked about on sunday connected with our conversation on sunday...and all these miles away! must have something to do with meta-koinonia.







aside from it being a powerful reflection on being the people of God, it is a brilliant example of contextualized witness and identity. mark, marcus, and the rest of the team are gently shaping a new church to think about themselves locally engaged in a global movement of God's blessing. This is an encouragement to me and a challenge to be more creative about the ways we work out these things in Lexington.

Sunday evening service

A group of us sat around the tables Sunday evening in the fellowship hall, awaiting the lasagnas still steaming in the corner as the gathering was opened with prayer. A church potluck? Not exactly. Lisa and I had been invited to the Gay/Lesbian Services Organization (GLSO) Awards Banquent, and so we were seated at the tables of the Unitarian Universalist Church on Clay's Mill Road. The GLSO, as the name implies, is an association of organizations involved in service to the gay community, including AVOL, Movable Feast, Pride of the Bluegrass, and GSA.

(There's more)

Lisa and I were there as guests of Movable Feast, which delivers free meals nightly in the greater Lexington area to those living with HIV/AIDS and Bluegrass Hospice patients. Having volunteered with them for the past four years, including a summer of working full-time in the kitchen, Lisa was unknowingly designated their "volunteer of the year" for the banquet.

During the course of the ceremony, Terry, the director of Moveable Feast, stood up front and described Lisa's dedication and service and invited her up to be recognized. She received her award with a hug... and came back again to sit next to me at the table, as probably the only straight couple in the crowd.

I, for one, was thankful to be carried on her coattails to this Kingdom event.

monkey bread

please take the time to check out this post from lisa.
a beautiful reflection on our sunday morning gathering and the ways we commune ...
it is a continued joy (and education) to follow the perceptions and experiences of a new person in our community.

dirty filthy love

saw this great movie over the weekend. it is a "darkly funny" british film - mostly dark, a little bit funny. brilliantly scripted and directed. we all felt a bit worn out after seeing it...good stories well told tend to have a physical (visceral?) effect. the main characters suffer from OCD and related disorders that pull back the curtain on some highly amplified thought lives. at one point the heroin of the story is explaining the 'disease' of OCD to a fellow sufferer. she says most people filter out the random worries of each tiny action/condition (lights on or off, hands clean or dirty, sitting down, showering, shaving, getting out of bed, etc.) yet, for OCD sufferers, this white noise is overwhelming and prompts highly unusual behaviors.

one of the most memorable scenes for me was when our heroin leads her comrades (support group) into a farm yard to kneel in the mud and push the wet, filthy soil and manure through their fingers for 5 minutes. it was excruciating to watch these people overcome such fear and repulsion yet it was also one of the highest moments of love as they encouraged one another and reminded each other what they are recovering from.

this manure-moment struck me as a nice metaphor for our fellowship and other gatherings. we're all in recovery from obsession over things that are unlikely to really matter in the long run (by 'long run' i mean our lives here-and-now as much as i mean in the by-and-by). we are caught up in the white noise of our consumer culture. we are recovering consumer addicts (or perhaps we are 'too clever' to be mall rats...we are more addicted to minimalist living, downward mobility, being radical - whatever that means - and generally more interested in a grunge/granola lifestyle than the mission of God). we all know what can most easily distract us from loving God and neighbor.....anyway, when we gather, we stick our hands in the manure of our lives and share the despair over the apparent distance between the dreams of God and our 'real' world. and then we might dare to read some scripture and discover there are mustard seeds of hope germinating and throwing up small, green shoots of protest and celebration, fasting and feasting. reminds me of another of my favorite movie lines... at the end of I (heart) Huckabees the despondent would-be-poet claims that, "there is no magic without the manure."
(or somethig like that)

so i would suggest you see the movie and perhaps see yourself in the movie - and i am glad we have a dirty filthy loving community.

a note about the dvd cover image....it looks like something it's not. The woman pictured is actually washing his hair and lovingly bringing him back from a low place of depression and self-neglect/abuse. and on that note...fair warning: the movie is, at times, a bit rude.

in the news...

Our community has played a key role in a couple of newsworthy events in recent days.

Check out these local reports on:

the Mountain Justice Rally

and

the World Refugee Day Celebration

thanks to everyone who made these events possible.

let the little children...

Last Sunday afternoon at Veteran's Park, surrounded by witnesses and a table full of food, our faith community vowed to raise a handfull of children in ways that will bless this world and honor God. Maria showed the children how to anoint each other. They did so reverently, and then got busy playing.

As the oil was applied, a joyful shout came from a crowd of parents watching a little league game. This reminded me of another afternoon when Jodie and I came to this park to watch kids play ball. We hardly had time to appreciate the miniature uniforms and the kids' game faces before parents all around us were shouting at their kids. Reminders included:

• "Keep your eye on the ball";
• "Be ready for a grounder";
• "You don't have to be right on the bag, honey".

Many of these shouts had a degree of urgency.

Then a ball was hit soundly and a lot of action ensued, with a corresponding increase in parental shouting. This concluded with a play at home plate, where the runner was tagged and called out. Half of the parents' voices raised in pitch and volume. Whatever this teenage umpire was being paid, it was not enough. I was soon embarrassed for these parents. I repressed an urge to cut a hole in the fence in left field and set these kids free from this.

We were not able to stay after this. Jodie and walked away from the scene and talked about how the tendencies we observed are likely in us too, waiting for the arrival of a child who will esteem our opinions more than we probably deserve. With what would we replace these tendencies? How could we honor our kids instead?

To hear Sherry read that children come through us, not to us, and that they are not our belongings, was a beautiful corrective. This points toward another way to love our children. We are watching the parents around us honor their children by protecting them, denying them some things, letting them play, letting them make choices. Here is another way in which we continue to be blessed and healed as we watch and pray with this body.

World Refugee Day

June 20th is World Refugee Day.
This year the theme is courage: the courage it takes to overcome staggering adversity and to survive resettlement.
we celebrate the profound gift of courage and how much we can learn from these dislocated people who make their homes in a strange land.

If you are in lexington please come and celebrate and remember with us at Phoenix Park (downtown, next to the Central Library).
11:30am-1:00pm
It is a brown bag event and there will be
children's activities
and great music courtesy of the Big Maracas.
There is also a small photo display on the second floor of the downtown branch of the public library.
T-Shirts (with the map and text above) will be available for purchase...

if you live in other places, check out the UNHCR page or your local Refugee settlement agency for celebrations near you.

we relish the chance to care for the stranger in our midst because it is an essential part of the good news of the kingdom coming.