A Lesson from New Orleans

I have always been a collector of things. When I started 5^th grade I was in the midst of building a Lego empire. I loved legos and had an extensive collection that now, 16 years later, I am devastated I sold at garage sale. At the time, I was building an empire of lego castles and spaceships with every new set helping spur my creative energy and convincing my parents from an early age that I should be an architect. I had amassed quite a collection of little lego treasures by the time I entered the sixth grade.

As I entered sixth grade, Shaquille O’Neal was entering the NBA. And I fell in love with professional basketball. Shaq was my hero although, even in sixth grade, I was acutely aware that I would never be seven foot one or wear size 26 shoes. I started collecting basketball cards and tried my very best to acquire every Shaq rookie card I could, each card become a real treasure in my collection of NBA unknowns and no names.

In seventh and eighth grade, I began to play golf. My Aunt Brenda moved to a golf course in Florida and mailed my family some of her old clubs. We went to visit her one summer and my little sister and I spent our afternoons hunting for old golf balls around the course. We noticed that some of the golf balls had advertisements and logos printed on the sides of the balls. And always being in direct competition with my sister, we spent the entirety of our summer vacation building our collection of specialized golf balls. Several shoe boxes of golf ball resided in my room for years, never once being used by me in a game of golf.

I collect things. I am still guilty of collecting things but I want to skip a few years from my time in Jr. High School to this past summer. I traveled twice to New Orleans this summer. During my second visit, our group had the opportunity to completely gut a house. After spending a couple of days cleaning brush and debris out of peoples yards and delivering welcome baskets to returning residents, we were all thrilled to have the opportunity to do some different work. Most of the gutting work in the area had been completed, but one resident who lived a block from Lake Pontchartrain finally signed a waiver giving a local ministry permission to go into his home and throw away all of his possessions, his life collection of material treasures. Our fourth afternoon in New Orleans and twelve of us grabbed a water cooler, some dust masks, and headed up towards Lake Pontchartrain. We were given specific instructions:

1) everything is trash

2) No matter what you do, do not open the refrigerator.

We were given duck tape to wrap the fridge, a few shovels, and a wheel barrow. Water sat in this house for two weeks. And then it left. And then everything in that home was damp or completely soaked, and it sat there in the sweltering New Orleans heat for two years. Every single thing this man owned was completely ruined. And everything was in his house.

He was a police officer. Several plaques were nailed up to the wall in the living room. He had been a New Orleans Police Officer of the month in 1984 and 1994. His television and his Playstation 2, complete with several NASCAR racing games, were covered in a thin layer of slime that had slowly grown in place over two years. The closet was full of the officer’s clothes, his partner’s clothes, and several pictures of the two of them from the past few years. Make up, shampoo, and deodorant rested in the bathroom, eager for its rightful owners to return.

Yet we were not the rightful owners. And I completely became aware that I was pilfering through someone else’s private life. I had entered a place they did not mean to leave, a place they had expected to return to on the day they left. Dirty dishes were still in the sink and the pantry was full of old food, paper products, and household cleaners. The closet was home to hundreds of Mardi gras beads, a bowling ball, and a few coats for the month or two in the winter when the weather was a little less miserable. Load after load, old electronics, a broken computer, clothes and personal belongings were piled high into the wheelbarrow and carted into the street. Not only did I feel guilty for throwing away the material possessions that defined a man and his partner’s life, but I began to look at my own life and what I truly hold as important.

The images of this home have been haunting me ever since I returned from New Orleans. I wonder a lot about what is truly important in my life and what are my real treasures. I try my best not to focus and center my life on material possessions.
This memory reminds me of this scripture from Matthew: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. "

My whole life I have been waiting for “The Great Memphis Earthquake.” Who knows if it will happen in our lifetime, but things happen, whether it is nature, bad luck, or our own negligence, we can easily lose everything we own. Would I be able to walk away from my house? And never return? What about my awesome TV? What about my bike? What about all of the pictures I have collected over the years that tell my story of growing up? What about the music? I still collect things. I have a 10,000 song music collection that even the thought of temporally losing music, terrifies every bone in my body. I collect art. I am slowly building my home one piece of nice furniture at a time. Have I put my treasures in heaven? Do I cherish the friendships that I make every day, or the times when I do something nice for someone else? Honestly, are my greatest treasures my friends, my family, my relationship with God? For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

The Kingdom of Heaven

At first I was a little upset that my parents decided to go out of town for Easter. Easter is one of three major holidays where my parents, my sister and I gather around the table for a wonderful home cooked meal. I assured my mother that my feelings were not hurt, yet harbored a little resentment for their little vacation to Heber Springs. And as positive as I tried to be about Easter, watching families and friends leave for glorious Easter brunches and family lunches after church left me feeling alone and abandoned.

After church, I met with three youth from my church to cook a meal at a local soup kitchen. To be honest, I was glad there were three young people who were willing to come and cook. Most of the active youth in the parish were enjoying family meals and big Easter celebrations, so to have three youth willing to work at a soup kitchen on Easter made the event more special. And only having three, we had to work so hard in the kitchen that I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself.

The three hours that we spent together flew by and when we were ready to leave, we all walked out together. One of the regulars at the soup kitchen, Lee, approached the three youth and begin asking them questions about their lives, where they went to school, what sports they played, and what they enjoyed doing in their spare time. And to my surprise, all three answered in detail and even began asking Lee questions about his life. In my work in ministry, I have found it very easy to serve the homeless and a lot more difficult to truly treat each person as one of our brothers or sisters. I have come to expect people, regardless of age, to be standoffish and hesitant to engage in real compassionate conversation with those who seem different, especially the homeless. Although I always enjoy working at soup kitchens, if I am walking in downtown or midtown Memphis, I will stray away from homeless people and try to avoid them. This afternoon, I expected answers to be short and abrupt and a feeling of general discomfort to linger in the air.

As I was experiencing something new for Easter, these three youth helped me to see the true meaning of Easter. Easter is the celebration of the resurrection of Christ, and in my eyes that means bringing his kingdom of heaven to earth. I believe that for fifteen minutes, as I stood outside with these three youth and our brother Lee, they showed me a glimpse of the kingdom of heaven, a place where all people eat together at the same table and each person is respected, loved, and embraced. Conversations run free and people would not hesitate to share all they have to offer with each other. And to catch a glimpse of that kingdom of heaven made my Easter more special and meaningful than ever before.

The Power of Unction

From last summer:

I was reassured once again, tonight, that God has a sense of humor. And that sometimes that still small voice disappears and becomes that loud, large roar. I have less than two days left at Kanuga Conference Center in North Carolina. I have been working with ninety-eight youth from all over the country during Kanuga’s annual youth week. Tonight has been the highlight of the week as we concluded with a healing service and the sacrament of unction.

I have a nasty habit of judging people. Sometimes I have the tendency to look for people’s negative qualities well before I look for the Christ-light that resides in everyone. We all are the children of God, yet sometimes I forget that and look for those qualities which bother me and get under my skin. There is someone here at this conference, who I will call Steve, and I often look for those negative qualities in him. Steve is a wonderful person who clearly radiates that Christ-light, yet for some reason I close my eyes and see only what I want to see. Although Steve and I have been working well together this week, I often feel on thin ice when I am around him.

During the healing service, as our Chaplain sat alone, I approached Rebecca to ask her to pray for me. I asked to be forgiven and for God to help release those judgmental qualities that I often possess behind the walls of my mind. Rebecca made the sign of the cross on my forehead with oil and as she prayed with me my head went numb. Never in my life have I felt such a strong presence of the Holy Spirit. A few tears appeared as Rebecca finished praying and when I stood up, Steve was right there. Steve was standing right behind me with his arms outstretched to give me a hug. He had no clue what I was praying for but God did. And God made it very clear to me that it was my turn to let my demons go.

A Soup Kitchen Experience

I had the privilege of preparing and serving dinner at a local soup kitchen this weekend with the youth confirmation class from my church. I wouldn’t be surprised if many of the young people had trouble finding anything in common with the people whom they were serving. Honestly, this is probably a fault that I am guilty of many times as well. When I am stopped and asked for money, I often find myself distrusting and reluctant to share the wealth I have because I struggle to see the poor, the homeless, and the less fortunate as equals.

There was a woman at dinner that reminded me of the lady who ran the dry cleaners around the corner from where I grew up. As I was becoming overwhelmed at seeing this lady, who I thought had been so kind to my sister and me growing up, I decided to find out this woman’s story. Although this woman bore a striking resemblance to the woman from my childhood, she had a different story. She had been married to a clergyman before spending the last several years on the street. She has since found a safer and more suitable place to live.

I have been finding this reality slightly haunting, possibly because I work with several clergy men and women and their families, or maybe because I know a little bit about the woman from the soup kitchens story. If a clergyman’s wife could end up homeless, than a youth minister certainly could. I believe as Christians we are called to work with the poor, the homeless, and those who suffer. However, if we place people into categories by labeling them poor, homeless, or suffering, we can become subject to never seeing them as equals. Sunday reminded me that we are all equal regardless of the clothes we wear, the homes we live in, or if we are serving or being served.

An Underdog Story

I have been helping a friend of mine coach a 5^th grade boy’s basketball team this year. One of the fathers told us at the beginning of the year, we would be doing a good job if this team had a winning record. Although our boys improved throughout the year, we finished the season with a very modest record of 11-9 and only a six seed in an eleven team tournament. The boys could have been very satisfied with their winning record.

Although we were the last team to get a bye, we played our first game against the number three seed, a much quicker team, and possibly the best team in the league at putting pressure on the ball. By the beginning of the second quarter, we were losing 17-2. Most eleven and twelve year olds would have lost all hope at this point. But by the end of the half the game was 24-12, still an enormous mountain to climb. Our team didn’t give up and kept playing with all their heart and with eleven seconds left in the game found themselves down by one point. Our star player dribbled the ball down the court and put up a shot from about twelve feet out. He missed! And out of nowhere, one of our players who had been struggling all season to rebound, until the second half of this game, grabbed a monster rebound and kicked it out to our point guard who threw up a prayer. The shot landed on the rim and the buzzer sounded. The ball continued to bounce around the rim before falling right through the net. The team rushed the court to tackle the shooter. The parents rushed the court. The crowd went nuts. The Grace St. Luke’s Saints had upset the three seed and won a playoff game.

Now, the boys could have been content. They had exceeded everyone’s expectations. The next game was against the two seed, and the parents and coaches were so proud of the boys. But when the game started against St. Dominic, our six seed, 12-9 team, played tough and competitive against the well-coached opponent. And every time they scored, our team found a way to get a basket. And when the game went into double overtime, our team finally began to take the game away and we walked out with a four point victory. Now, the Saints could have been content with making it to the championship game.

The championship game was against St. Francis who scored almost fifty points in a game the day before. St. Francis had beaten us twice early in the season, each time by about twenty points. They had only lost one time all season. In the back of my head, I had given up most hope and was already so proud of the team. All I was wishing for was for the team to play good basketball and I was excited that we would at least get a second place trophy. Yet at the end of the half we trailed 6-5 in an awesome defensive battle. Our boys were playing great and they kept playing tough. When we went up by four with about three minutes left, I felt we really might become the champions. They went with a box and one defense on our star player to keep him from getting the ball, but other people stepped up and we walked away with a huge 21-11 upset. What an underdog story!

There is an old Haitian proverb: “Beyond mountains there are mountains.” Although this proverb is about patience and the recognition of how difficult life can be, it also describes this past weekend’s basketball tournament. After each challenge, another challenge appears. The GSL Saints had to climb many mountains this season, especially this tournament. The ability to continue to climb after being down by 15 points at the beginning of the first playoff game will inspire me forever.

Life, and especially for me, being a Christian, is about climbing these mountains. We generally consider most people good because they follow the general rules of life or the Ten Commandments such as not killing people or stealing. But to me, being a Christian is about being that underdog. It is about climbing that mountain, only to find a mountain on the other side and continuing forward. We are called to be radical, to change the world, to struggle, to get our hands dirty. We are called to serve the poor, feed the hungry, to forgive our friends and, even harder, our enemies. We are called to do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who abuse us. I struggle to do any of these. Life is about climbing that mountain. And that one time I find it in my heart to forgive someone who wrongs me, there is someone else right there asking the same thing, and it becomes even more difficult.

The story of the Grace St. Luke’s basketball team is important because it gives us hope as an underdog. We can do what is right, even if it is an uphill battle. And just like in the playoffs, a little momentum can go a long way. If we start to be radical, serving the poor, forgiving our enemies and climbing those mountains, we can gain momentum, mountain by mountain, and change the world one person at a time.

Life Lessons from the Super Bowl

Sunday was one of my favorite days of the year. The time when people join together to stuff their faces with junk food and pancho’s cheese dip, grab their football jerseys, and gather around the TV to watch the Super Bowl and of course a bunch of awesome commercials. In the midst of all the popcorn and M&M throwing and flashes of the digital cameras, I actually walked away with what I think are 3 important lessons from this year’s Super Bowl.

Number 1 - There will always be people who doubt you. Forgot about them.

The doubts started when Manning was in college at Tennessee. He never beat Florida, UT’s biggest rival, and the year after he left, the Volunteers won a national championship. In Indianapolis, the doubt continued. When Payton started 0-3 in the playoffs, people wondered if he would ever win a playoff game. When he finally did that, people said he couldn't beat the Patriots. When he did that, the critics argued he still couldn't win the biggest game of them all.

Life is full of road blocks. For every good idea and dream that you have, there will be 10 people waiting to tell you why your idea and dreams are stupid. Don’t be discouraged when someone shoots you down. Continue to work hard and persevere though those obstacles. It would be Christmas in Chicago right now if Peyton had listened to his critics.

Number 2 - One game can make all the difference

Payton has started nearly 150 NFL games. For years everyone has talked about how Payton has been one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play the game, who does not have a championship ring. But after those nine seasons and all the lack of respect that he has received, one game, last night’s Super Bowl victory nearly guarantees him in the Hall of Fame and ensures his legacy forever.

I find this reassuring. It comforts me to know that no matter the mistakes that I make in life, the games that I fall short in life, off the field, that we all have the opportunity to change people’s perception of who we are by making a difference when the big opportunity comes our way. Even if people expect something out of you, that you might fail or disappoint everyone, prove them wrong. It’s possible.

Number 3 - No matter what mistakes we make, we are all given a second chance.

I saw this several times in the game. Sometimes in ways I don’t quite agree with such as man arrested for illegal possession of firearms and drugs being allowed to play in the Super Bowl. Three seconds into the game, the Colts kickoff is returned for a touchdown, basically the culmination of a lot of mistakes by Indianapolis. The Colts get the ball right away, and Payton throws an interception. Huge mistake! Turnover, and it is the Bear’s ball. I suspect by this point most Colts fans are yelling at the TV, their season full of hope is coming crashing down as most of us are trying to find away to hold on to the little bit of hope left, but with all of these mistakes the Colts are making, how are they going to win the game?

We all make mistakes. Some of us make more than others, but life is full of second chances. What is important is to learn from our mistakes, and to instead of letting them hinder us, they help us. So often, when we make a mistake, it sets up a chain reaction for other mistakes and everything around us seems to come tumbling down. Instead we must realize that mistakes are a part of growing and learning and necessary for improvement. The Colts could have given up after the touchdown. They certainly could have given up after the interception, but the game was far from over and the Colts proved they could overcome a few mistakes.

"To let you be my servant too"

One of the privileges of working for the church is the opportunity to find unique ways of carrying out the church’s mission to help serve the world. While I was in college, my sister traveled to Honduras twice on church mission trips to help build a few homes and work on a local school. The experiences she had were life changing for her and her stories left me desiring to have that same sense of fulfillment from serving others. Until a year ago, I had never been to a 3^rd world country and I have been looking for ways to carry out that desire through my church wanting both youth and adults to have that same experience that impacted Ann.

It was these feelings and desires to serve the helped spur my desire to travel as a missionary and ultimately led to the planning of my pilgrimage to India. I met Milind a few years ago when he was visiting Holy Communion. He told me about a trip to India with his parishioners from New York who had fallen in love with India and even helped raise money to build a well in a small village where Christians were not allowed rights to water. The well was built on one condition: that no one be denied the right to water. I asked Milind to lead a group from my church on a trip to India envisioning this trip as a true mission trip serving people of a 3^rd world country and really doing my best to put others first. Our pilgrimage was nothing like this.

We spent our first several days in Pune, not only soaking in the vast culture of India but learning about the work of the Deep Griha society. The Deep Griha Society ran several orphanages which we visited, each one with groups of children greeting us with songs and dances they had spent several hours the week before rehearsing for our visit. At one orphanage out in the country called City of Child, the children insisted on carrying our backpacks around and wearing our Sun Glasses and hats as soon as we entered. And at each place they fed us huge meals that we struggled to finish while it was so obvious that the children and workers of the different centers had not had such a nice meal.

The second leg of our journey or so called “mission trip” brought us deep into the middle of India. After learning about the work of the Diocese of Nagpur and the Church of North India, we were led deep in the jungle hours away from cars, trucks, and city life to visit three small villages. We were running a little late but each village welcomed us with open arms. At each village friends laid flowers around our neck and the people of the village would sing us songs taught to them by the local missionaries. Each village offered us chai tea. When we finally reached the third village at 9pm, where they had been waiting for us for hours, we were welcomed with a huge drum circle, dance, tea, flowers, and a warm dinner served on Teak Leaves. At the third village a man had traveled 25km just to greet us.

As wonderful as being in India was, a place I now hold so dear to my heart, I was feeling horribly guilty. I am a young man with a car, health insurance, an Ipod, a home with a roof that usually keeps out water, and living in the most technologically advanced and wealthy nation of the world. Now, some of this planet’s poorest individuals were placing flowers around my neck, serving our group meal after meal and completely keeping me from doing what I had set out to do, to be a servant.

We are called to be serve the poor, the hungry, and the needy. “Won’t you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you, pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant too.” These are the words of one of my favorite songs, The Servant Song by Richard Gillard. I so often forget that although we are called to be servants, we must also let others serve us. I fill a spiritual need of others when I serve them. When I go to the soup kitchen, or help build a home for Habitat for Humanity, although I am helping to fill the needs of others, I am filling my own needs: the need to feel as if I am making this world a better place by being selfless and putting others first. What I neglected to recognize at first in India, was that these people, especially the new first generation Christians, my brothers and sisters, and equal in everyway regardless of finances and material wealth, all have that same calling to serve others. They desired to welcome strangers into their homes, to serve them with love and kindness just as we would welcome anyone into our home. And what I realized towards the end of the trip was that I was making a difference. I had traveled thousands of miles to affirm what these people were learning and studying and that Christianity was real. There are people from all over the world who may, on the outside, seem nothing alike, but are just the same as us with the same callings to serve and love one other. And by visiting them we were able to share that love with each other.

I encourage you all to go out and serve others. Go on mission trips, serve at a soup kitchen, or volunteer at an after school program. Just pray that you may also have the grace to let others serve you as well. Sometimes that is even more difficult than finding ways to serve.

Letting Go of the Old Year

When I would spend my summers working at the Boy Scout Camp, we would often squander our Saturdays by running through the high ropes course. A high ropes course is a series of obstacles that one has to tackle usually about 40 feet above the ground. One of the challenges that I always struggled with was a series of rings across a high wire. You would hold on to one ring as you shuffled across the wire, yet you could not grab the next ring without first letting go of the ring you were holding on to. As I had seen many before me do, if you reached too far without letting go of the old ring, you would not be able to grab the new ring often resulting in falling off the course.

An important part of welcoming the New Year has to do with letting go of the old year. I find it important for my own growth to release the old year by looking back at who I have become and what I plan on changing in the upcoming year. Yet, just like on the ropes course, most people struggle with letting go of the old ring which provides them stability at the moment, in order to be able to reach for the new ring. The New Year is always ushered in with the Christmas Season, a season of new life and redemption. This is important because the New Year becomes a chance for us to start all over with a clean slate.

Yet to truly release the old year and move on to the New Year it is important for us to learn from the past. I challenge all of you this year to really look back and learn and grow. Look back at what you have accomplished and how that made you feel and if you had to do everything all over, what you would do differently. Ask yourself what you are grateful for and what is missing in your life. When we begin to fully understand our previous year, we are able to let go and grab the year ahead better prepared and ready for the challenges and obstacles ahead.