Second Saturdays

Not all that long ago, I heard someone talk about how it was only relatively recently that home builders here in the U.S. stopped building houses with porches on the front of the house and instead moved them to the back.  Pause for a second and just think about that.  Fifty years ago, when you went out onto the porch, you were in the front of the house – visible and accessible to the world.  It was common for people to “sit out on the porch,” sip a nice glass of iced tea, and have an opportunity to interact with, and commune with, their own neighbors.  Folks coming home from work, kids out playing in the street, people walking their dogs or just out and about to get some exercise and to see their friends.  As I write this, I almost have a vision of a really hokey, old black and white movie with more than one “golly-geez” reference being thrown around and most of the characters having hyphenated names.  I know the world wasn’t a boring PG film about wholesome family values but I also know that the world has changed and is changing.

So now consider what it means when we move the porch around to the back of the house.

We’re going a bit biblical here…all apologies if that’s not your schtick.

In the beginning of the eighth chapter of John’s gospel, there is a story that is probably one of the more well known of all bible stories despite the fact that there is considerable scholarly debate over whether the text itself was actually included in the author’s original manuscripts.  But the story is about a group of these uber-religious leaders who got together and rounded up a woman whom they said was guilty of a sin for which their law required a punishment of death by stoning.  Adultery was her crime.  But before they carried out their responsibilities for this execution, they wanted to take the opportunity to expose this new teacher who had recently begun to make some waves in their community.  They wanted to pull the curtain back on this man Jesus who they considered to be a fraud and a law-breaker in his own right.

So there’s this image of this group of men charging into some house where this woman was rumored to have been engaged in some illicit love affair and dragging her, kicking and screaming possibly, into the temple courts where they intended to pronounce their righteous judgment upon her.  There they stand, on the temple grounds, each holding rocks in their hands, at the ready, partly anxious to get the action of the day started and partly looking to Jesus to test him and to see if he really subscribes to their faith.  And so before they issue their final edict against the accused woman, they turn to Jesus and explain the situation to him.  They say, this woman is guilty of adultery, there is no question.  The law says she is to be punished, of this there is no question either.  So what then, Jesus, do you say?

And Jesus’ response is legendary, right?  Even if you’ve never read the John’s gospel or ever been inside a church, you probably know what happens here.  We’re told that while they are talking and explaining all of these incontrovertible facts to him, he leans down and begins to “write” in the dirt with his finger.  It doesn’t say what he was writing – but it became apparent that as he wrote, the enthusiasm of this crowd of religious keaders began to rapidly diminish.  And then with a few short words, Jesus basically put an end to the whole affair.

“If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone…”

There are many theories about what Jesus was writing in the dirt but the one that I like best says he was writing out the sins of the individual religious leaders, one by one.  Imagine the first guy up front, we’ll call him “Bob”, hanging out with the rock in his hand, looking down and seeing his name in the sand and the word “thief” next to it.  I imagine he let out a nervous chuckle because he suddenly wasn’t so was sure that nobody knew he’d been stealing from the temple offering for some extra coinage. Then another guy, we’ll call him “Joe”, standing next to Bob, looks down and sees his name next and sees “coveter” and suddenly wonders if his friends had seen him staring at his neighbor’s wife. And on down the line, each of the men looking down at Jesus writing their names in the sand and knowing that they had underestimated the situation and that this may not be the time or the place to be exposed for their own indiscretions.

Now that’s not in the bible.  But it sure makes for an interesting scene, and sure explains their behavior if it’s actually what happened.

What’s also interesting is that the text does specifically call out the fact that once Jesus spoke, it was the “older” men who left first, followed immediately after by their younger compatriots.  Apparently, the more mature and elder statesmen of this group were far quicker to recognize that if and when Jesus got around to writing their names in the sand, there might not be enough dirt for their laundry list of wrong doings.  I guess a lifetime presents plenty of opportunity to make decisions and undertake actions that hurt others and that are inconsistent with the people we all hope and wish that we could be.

When my imagination takes hold and I consider the make-up of this group as a whole, I don’t think they all wanted to be there in the first place.  In my head, there’s a picture of it like there were a couple ring leaders who were out to make a point and a name for themselves; they likely had this hyper-active religious fervor and while they may have really believed the things they espoused, they fired up the mob with this mentality and brought a number of their peers along for the ride.  And so as they stood there with their stones in hand, a couple of the guys were really excited about playing the role of judge, jury and executioner on this woman; but there were others among them who waited there, uneasy, unsure, wanting nothing more than to be free of this burden on their conscience that quickly became overwhelming in the face of what they were about to have to do.  This latter group desperately wanted an excuse to drop their rocks and go home.

At least I hope they did.  Because sometimes I do.

You see, I call myself a “Christian” – a term which means different things to different people but one that I know to many out there in the real world, means that I am one of the “religious right.”  It means that just as these men would have been known in their day, it is assumed that I am walking around with stones in my hand, ready to condemn anyone around who might be considered a “sinner”.  I could be the nicest, most grace-filled, generous person on the planet but if the only title I have next to my name is “Christian”, many will assume that I’m out to pass judgment on everyone who thinks, acts, or lives differently than I do.

But the truth is, I’ve never been able to figure which of the sins in my own life – past, present and future – are better or worse than those of others?  I read where Jesus makes statements like, ‘if you think it, you’ve done it’; believe me, I think it.  Then I read where Jesus’ own brother makes a statement like ‘if you know what the right thing to do is, and you don’t do it, you sin’.  Guess what I know – today, 25,000 children around the world will die of preventable causes.  Now ask me what I’m doing about it?  And then I read where Paul says we’re all in that ‘sinner boat’ together because no matter what we do or how hard we try, we just all fall short.  Enough said.

So when I look around and see some of the people in my circles holding these rocks, seething with righteous indignation, and I catch myself in that moment and realize, to my great horror, that I too have a rock in my hand, I just want to drop it and go home.

And I want to say that I’m sorry that I ever felt entitled to pick up the rock in the first place.  And I want to say that I’m sorry that some of the people who I spend my time with carry their rocks with them constantly at the ready.  And I’m sorry that so many rocks have been thrown at so many people so many times in the past and caused so much pain and heartache.

At the end of the story, Jesus looks up from his writing in the dirt and everyone but the woman is gone.  A scattering of stones left behind where they just stood.  And he asks:

“Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

“No one, sir” she says.

“Then neither do I condemn you” Jesus declared.  ”Go now and leave your life of sin.”

I hope and I pray that at the end of this day, I, like the woman now, will have the wisdom and the strength to go and leave my own life of sin.  I hope and I pray that at the end of this day, I will have lived a life of compassion and of love and not a life of judgment and hatred.  I hope and I pray that at the end of all my days, the life that I have lived will have been reflective of the true nature of the faith that I proclaim and the God and Savior in whom I so ardently believe.

So in my head I see this picture of a great big moving sidewalk; you know, like the ones you might see at an airport? Only this one is much bigger – wider I mean.  And there’s just throngs and throngs of people milling about, making their way to wherever it is that this thing is leading.  When I look closer, I can actually see that there are some people that seem to be in a bit more of a hurry than others.  But it’s like those people who lay on their horns in the midst of a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam) let’s call them, “idiots”) because it’s fairly obvious to everyone around that their efforts really are absurd; they’re just not going to get anywhere anyway.  Most everyone else, however, seems content to be along for the ride.  And so this mass of humanity moves along, mooing like a herd of cows, headed to somewhere.

Now I’ll jump to a confession.  When I was younger, I had a ridiculous perspective on what it meant to be a productive person.  Seriously.  Call it terrible time management skills, call it ignorance, call it just plain laziness; but there was a time when if I managed to do something as simple as a single load of laundry, that was a productive week.  Yes, I said week.  I mean, I had a full time job and all, and I went out (a little too often and stayed out a little too late) so by the time I was done with those things, if I managed to get my dirty clothes into the wash, into the dryer and THEN folded them, hung them, or somehow got them put away… Sheesh!  It was time for a nap!

Over time, of course, we all get older, some of us get a little wiser, and our responsibilities as functioning human beings grow just a little.  And soon something like doing laundry didn’t really get me my gold star of productivity anymore, it only got me a little bit closer to being back to zero.  More and more of the things that I was supposed to be doing with my life began to take more and more of a priority which made their repeated accomplishment less and less substantial.  For most of us, there is a technical term to this very natural evolution – it’s called “growing up”.  But if you’ve figured out who the author of this blog is (assuming anyone other than myself is actually reading it), then you know it took me a little while longer than most others to get a glimpse of what that really looks like and what that really means.

Now jump back to my moving sidewalk.  Because I’m riding this bad boy, shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of these people and for the most part, I’m not entirely sure why.  As I look around and see the individuals that I’m near, it occurs to me that they too have figured out what it means to be a grown up.  They’ve got clean clothes on, they’ve got mortgage payments, they’re seeking gainful, full-time employment in some form or fashion, they’ve got a car to get them around, they know who won the last super bowl.  These are normal folks here keeping tabs on the important matters of this life.  In their presence I feel reassured that I too am playing all the proper reindeer games and off we all are riding into our sunset.

But off to the side, I keep noticing something a little strange.  There’s these people that seem to be going off some other way?  They have apparently jumped off of this moving sidewalk and seem to have found a path headed in a whole new direction.  It’s obvious that their path doesn’t move them along as easily as this one that I’m on does; they seem to be battling a current that almost tries to pull them all back to us.  It’s obvious that to a certain extent, they have even suffered, or are experiencing something that I would liken as “suffering” if I were to have to endure it here on my path.  It is obvious that this way they have chosen is not “easy”; but there remains something about them and this path that they are on which draws all of our attention like light to a moth.  They are indeed bright; they shine.

Back to my confession.  It occurs to me now that once again, I am living like I was when doing laundry once a week was such a big deal.  I like to think that as a “grown up” I know what it means to serve – I mean, I’m out there in the community almost once a week, so that’s pretty good, right?  Sometimes I even take time from my own vacation to go to some far-away country and serve people I don’t even know.  Talk about your gold star right?  You know, not that I want to let my right hand know what my left hand is doing but I fancy myself a pretty “generous” person and there are times when I take some of my own hard-earned money and just give it away to people who I think need it more than I do.  Nominate me for the Nobel Peace Prize if you must!

And now jump to Pastor Anita Favors of the organization, Jars of Clay.  Her life is her service.  Every day, all day, she gives what she has of herself in an effort to make life better for a community of people who have gotten lost and who are hurting.  She is not wandering aimlessly numb through work-week after work-week with a sprinkle of good deeds thrown in for good measure.  She is off the moving sidewalk.  And she is one of so many who have chosen this path.

And I find that I am a child next to them.

I am not Francis Chan so I can’t put a gut-wrenching challenge out there for you that would do much except insult your intelligence.  I probably already did that with the tired old analogy of the moving sidewalk (sorry about that).  This was a blog for me to wonder about why I am so quick to give myself so many gold stars when there are so many people out there far more deserving of them.  This was a blog for me to wonder what my life might look like if I stopped drifting through my days and starting living, serving and loving with profound intentionality.  This was a blog about me understanding my position as a child crawling near to the maturity of someone like Anita Favors.

If by some chance someone is reading this, know that if nothing else, I do hope that Second Saturdays continues to be an opportunity for us all to meet these people; to tell them “Thank You” and to remind them that even though their going may be tough, they are the envy of those of us who one day hope to be grown ups and we are praying for them and hoping we will find even more ways to serve along with them when we can.

God bless.

So this past Saturday, the second Saturday of February, we had the chance to go back to visit our friends at Kindred Spirit.  For those of you who don’t know, Kindred Spirit is a home for pregnant teenage girls who have found themselves in a position where they need a little help during their pregnancy as they prepare for life with their new child.  The girls come from backgrounds that include the tragedies of rape, incest, and abuse and Kindred Spirit provides a safe environment for them to prepare themselves physically, emotionally and spiritually for the life-change that they’re undergoing.

Anyway, Second Saturdays rolls on in and we were tasked with helping in a number of fairly simple ways. We had a couple dozen people painting the walls in the living areas of the house, we had a couple dozen more doing some “deep cleaning” and organizing the donations that they’ve been blessed to receive of late, and we even has a dozen or so brave souls out attacking the yard and the ivy and the leaves. Oh yes, the leaves.

That’s where I was.  Out in the cool, brisk air, filling bag after bag after bag after bag of those leaves.  Some wet, covered in earth and weighing far more than a leaf should ever weigh, some dry and lighter than a feather and impossible to keep in the pile. It’s an interesting task to take on because we’re totally outmanned by mother nature and her tangles of ivy and her constantly shifting breezes.  But we fought the good fight and if any of you happened to catch a glimpse of the carport during the day, the men and women bagging those leaves certainly left their mark.

It was during that time of raking and bagging that the quote of the day came for me. A young man, we’ll call him “Brandon” (a regular volunteer with Second Saturdays) and I were just about to finish off one of the last bags and I asked if he thought we should go back over the yard with the blowers to try to get the last few leaves up.  He turned to me with a mildly confused and slightly mocking look on his face and calmly pointed out that “we’re in the forest”. And then he went back to bagging the remaining leaves.

A good point.

It occurred to me a bit later that this simple comment applied to what we were doing at a much more philosophical level there at Kindred Spirit.  There is a forest in which we find ourselves where young women are suffering such tremendous harm and are in a predicament where their lives and the lives of their unborn children are in danger.  There are a million upstream causes that feed the source of this predicament and there are a million more effects on any number of lives that lie downstream.  Conceptually, those of us on the outside looking in, want desperately to find a solution for this suffering and we want to “fix the problem”; we want to come into the forest and clean up all the leaves.  We want to put a stop to the madness, the hatred, the suffering, the hurting.  And we want to do it today.

But it’s frustrating.  We’re in a forest.

It seems like I’ve been seeing and hearing this message a whole lot recently where there’s this idea that while there’s not much that we can do in the face of a cause the size of the one our hearts want to tackle, there ARE individual opportunities for us to just simply serve and love others.  At our church recently, we heard a message about doing for one what you wish you could do for everyone; I keep hearing people tell the story of the kid throwing starfish back into the sea, one at a time, after a storm – “it mattered to that one” he says; even the home page of our web site here talks about being committed to doing our individual parts in spite of knowing we can’t do it all.

But it’s such a beautiful idea, isn’t it?  Pick one person, one cause, one people group, one heart and pour all of yourself into serving and loving them and watch their life change.  Watch your life change.  Even the most seemingly simple tragedies of this life are so complex that to spend too much time reflecting on all the different facets of them, the causes, the effects, the affected; it’s a dizzying exercise that tends to leave us all exhausted and frustrated.  But if those tragedies became a human being with a name, with a face, with a heart, with a chair at our Thanksgiving dinner table, suddenly it’s not so huge.  Suddenly it’s not impossible.

Suddenly we’re walking OUT of the forest.

I wish I was better at this.  I wish I could tell you the name of my one.  Right now I am hopeful that they may be just around the next corner of my life.  But please know that this is what we want for you with Second Saturdays…this is the idea behind this whole thing.  We want you to connect with one of our partner organizations such that they may lead you to your one.  This is, and will remain, our prayer for all of you.

God bless.

by Jenn Phillips

My life
You electrify my life
Let’s conspire to ignite
All the souls
that would die just to feel alive

I love these lyrics from Muse’s ‘Starlight’.   When do you feel most alive?

by Jennifer Phillips

Recently, I had the privilege of listening to two close friends share their life stories.  For all intents and purposes, these guys are studs.  Good looking, intelligent, with the world at their feet.  But I sat dumbfounded as they revealed the reality of their lives…..their poor choices, mistakes, regrets, and broken families.  In that moment, I was overwhelmed by the sense that we are ALL broken people.  Rich or poor, male or female, uber-educated or blue-collar…brokenness has no boundaries.  It does not play favorites or consider socio-economic status.  On paper, this is intellectually obvious.   But it became real to me when it moved from charts/graphs in an Excel spreadsheet to the personal story of two friends whom I respect and share life with.

There was a common thread in both stories that resonated with me.  Although both men were vastly different in personality, and had followed two entirely different paths in life, both noted a handful of defining moments where their paths intersected with someone who took an interest in them personally. These key mentors were trustable people who went out of their way to intentionally invite them to a specific event, ask them hard questions, speak truth in love, or simply give them a book to read.  Coincidental encounters?  Maybe.  But these relationships literally altered the trajectory of my friends’ lives.

This month, we prepare to serve at Bright Futures. The mission of this organization is to search out, assist, and build long-term relationships with single parents and adolescent youth from Atlanta’s inner city.  It is their belief that building intentional relationships with families in this inner city community is the key catalyst toward making real improvements in the endless cycle of poverty, violence, unemployment, and low self-esteem.   In short, they are mentors. The kind my friends talked about.  A real life example of people who use their time, talent, and treasure to put Hebrews 10:24 into action “Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. (NIV).”

I am humbled by their example.  I still can’t believe that God chooses to use flawed people such as myself as vehicles to deliver His Love.  So today I ask myself, Jenn, how do you use your time, talent, and treasure? Do you selfishly hoard the gifts that you have received to push your own agenda forward?  Do you intentionally look for ways to use what you are good at to invest in the lives of the people around you?  Truthfully, my answers to these questions are sub-par.  This month my prayer is that we will boldly and willingly serve as ambassadors of Christ’s love…by living out the freedom we have received and passing it on to others through service.

“And I think that’s what our world is desperately in need of – lovers, people who are building deep, genuine relationships with fellow strugglers along the way, and who actually know the faces of the people behind the issues they are concerned about.” ~Shane Claiborne (Author, The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical)

06 Feb 2010

So it’s been pretty cold outside of late, no?  I used to have a house that had a two car garage so on cold mornings, I would go outside a few minutes before I would leave for work, and I would start my car so that it would be warm when it was time to head out.  I had plenty of coats in the closet and a nice cup of coffee to keep me warm; but I didn’t like the commute before my car’s heater kicked in…  When it’s this cold outside, it gets into the very core of my person and it feels like I’ll never stop shivering.  It feels like I’ll never get warm again.  

Ever think much about the people who spend their nights in a shelter somewhere here in our city?  In the morning, they have to leave those places.  And the reality is, there’s not always somewhere to go.  They’re not worried about whether their car’s heater is going at full bore, they’re worried about their children and whether or not they can withstand a day out in the freezing cold.

I never thought about the idea of a ‘day shelter’ before learning about this month’s Second Saturday event.  But that’s mostly because I’m an idiot.  But I’m working on that….

I hope you all get the chance to come check out what’s going on down there at the Atlanta Day Shelter for Women & Children on March 13th.  And I hope you get a chance to meet some people and make some friends.  And I hope that when we leave their place and their lives, we’ve made some small difference and we’ve made this world, and our city, a better place.