A letter to the elders who fired my father (to be sent out on Aug. 1)

To the Elders of the Church of AH,

Greetings in the name of God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ. I hope this letter finds you well.

I know that you have received numerous letters about your choice to ask my father for his resignation in January. This is mine. You would have received it earlier, but I didn’t want it to be considered castigating.

In fact, nothing is further from my mind. I have held you all very dear to my heart–we were family.

I have grown up with your children, learned from you in bible class, attended your family functions and gone to camp with you. I have known some of you since the first Sunday my Dad started preaching at AH, a few months before my first birthday. The rest of you I welcomed into the family with open arms.

So I’m sure you can imagine how devastated I was to hear about the way my father was treated. I admit that I cannot know all the details surrounding his “release,” but I do know one thing: regardless of whatever wrongs he committed and whatever faults he had, I believe he was treated unjustly, because he was treated as hired help and not family.

I believe this set a bad example to the flock (I Peter 5:3) and was not a good way to manage the church family (I TImothy 3:5).

It is my belief that you saw your church in danger, that you were–as the rest of us–watching it fall apart slowly, inch by inch. And so you made a rash decision, lunged out to save something you love. But instead, that decision, and especially the way you handled it, caused more problems and more pain than you anticipated. We all know it caused pain in the AH family at large, and I can tell you that it has caused unspeakable pain in my immediate family and especially in my own life.

My father, as you know, has handled this whole situation very stoically and has–true to form–spent his time trying to ease the pain of the congregation and help its people to move forward in the love of Christ. The rest of our family, however, is having a harder time.

Surely you can understand that I can’t imagine ever attending services at AH again. I believe doing so would have the appearance of my stamp of approval–would send the message that I agree with your decision and the way in which you enacted it. And I obviously do not. I am grieving the loss of my childhood church, the family I have known my whole life, at your hands.

I feel betrayed by you, the men of my own beloved church family, at the treatment of my father, who deserved better if for no other reason than the fact that he had served the Lord and His people at AH for 22 years. But he has also cared for your own families in times of grief, pain and loss as well as those of celebration. And he has done no less for the other members of our AH family, who have expressed their own grief and outrage at the events that transpired in January.

And so, Elders of AH, I write to ask you for an apology. I ask you to apologize to my family at AH as well as my immediate family for how you handled the firing of my father. I am confused as to why it has taken this long, but let’s face it: AH is still in trouble, turmoil and pain. I believe that nothing else but your humility and the love of God will heal the body of AH.

But I want you to know that regardless of what you decide, you have my forgiveness anyway.

So please, for the sake of the people who we all hold dear, consider my request prayerfully.

In Christ,

July newsletter

“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” ~Isaiah 55:10-11


Greetings! Thank you for staying with me through these long months.

I appreciate all of the support you have shown me this year through financial donations, letters, packages and phone calls. I cannot thank you enough for all the ways you have encouraged and uplifted me during this difficult year.

You know, I wanted to do a good job for all of you who love me and believe in me enough to spend your time and money on a cause I find important. I also wanted to do a great job for God, to come to the inner city and make His presence (and mine as well) known in substantial and tangible ways.

But then a funny thing happened. I found out that God was already here.

One day last month as I was walking down the street in San Francisco, I passed a disheveled woman on the street holding a styrofoam cup that contained a few coins. I stopped for a minute to talk with her and saw that she was holding a small bible and reading out of Isaiah.

When I asked her about it, she said, “Oh, yeah, Isaiah’s my man! That’s my favorite book.”

(Needless to say, I was impressed. I find the prophecies in Isaiah unintelligible, at best.)

You know, I thought I’d be bringing God’s Word with me into the city, but I found that it is already living and breathing right here.

I was also surprised to find our apartment complex so, well, functional. When we had our block party last month, neighbors did everything from bringing food to contribute to lending us a grill and then helping us figure out how to use it. They sporadically bring us interesting dishes from their respective cultures and constantly band together to celebrate events in each others’ lives.

You know, I thought I would be bringing true community into the city, but I found that it already exists here.

And some of you know how trying this year has been for me, how quiet God has remained, how I have struggled to live in the structure of this program. And yet even in the darkest times, God eventually showed up and pulled me through (sometimes waiting until just the last minute). Most of the time He showed up through one of you or in the person of someone here.

I have seen Him most frequently not in other Christians in my circle of support here, but in very unlikely places, namely the homeless men whose feet I cared for and the first-graders I worked with. Some of the homeless men I know like to take time from their days to tell me how good God has been to them, even as they face another night on the street or in the rain or downstairs in our lice-infested shelter. Others of them just take a moment to tell me how much it means that I work on their stinky ol’ feet. My first graders loved on me by throwing their little arms around my waist, following me as I walked across the playground and drawing me all sorts of pictures.

You know, I thought I’d be bringing Jesus into the city, but it looks like He has been here for awhile.

And so I am sorry to report that my ministry here, what I thought would be quantifiable and bring tangible results, has left me with little visible to show for all my hard work. I didn’t baptize anyone or convert any drug dealers. I didn’t teach an illiterate adult to read. I didn’t find permanent shelter for a homeless person, and only about three of the guys in the rehab program at CityTeam who were there in September are still working on their recovery.

No, all I have is hope that the things I did here have shown God’s love and served His purpose and perhaps increased the Shalom in the world. I can tell you, though, that my roommates and I have provided attention for the kids who live in our apartment complex, in particular a four-year-old whose Mom works nights and leaves her daughter alone to run free and curses at her incessantly. I also believe that Mrs. Buljko, the first grade teacher who I assisted twice a week, benefitted from my time in her classroom. Juggling work and two children while taking college classes left her pretty worn out; she always loved to tell me how “Only God had brought me to her.” I believe it’s true. I have also made it my personal crusade to love extravagantly and encourage mercilessly the women with whom I share this small apartment. And I think I’ve done a pretty good job.

So let’s hope that out in Oakland somewhere tonight there is a homeless man with cleaner feet, a child who has seen love and perhaps can read a little better and a tired woman who has been given the special gift of seeing God at work in her life as well as the visible manifestations of God’s word, loving community and the Spirit of Jesus that already exist here.

It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting to accomplish, but I trust that it’s enough.

On August 2 that I will be moving back in with my parents while I look for a job (if you know of any openings at nonprofits in Texas, let me know). My email will remain the same.

Love to you all

Most of my July newsletter

(For you to read while I'm gone on what promises to be a painful and boring closing retreat. But I'm trying to have a good attitude.)

“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” ~Isaiah 55:10-11

Greetings! Thank you for staying with me through these long months.

I appreciate all of the support you have shown me this year through financial donations, letters, packages and phone calls. I cannot thank you enough for all the ways you have encouraged and uplifted me during this difficult year.

You know, I wanted to do a good job for all of you who love me and believe in me enough to spend your time and money on a cause I find important. I also wanted to do a great job for God, to come to the inner city and make His presence (and mine as well) known in substantial and tangible ways.

But then a funny thing happened. I found out that God was already here.

One day last month as I was walking down the street in San Francisco, I passed a disheveled woman on the street holding a styrofoam cup that contained a few coins. I stopped for a minute to talk with her and saw that she was holding a small bible and reading out of Isaiah.

When I asked her about it, she said, “Oh, yeah, Isaiah’s my man! That’s my favorite book.”

(Needless to say, I was impressed. I find the prophecies in Isaiah unintelligible, at best.)

You know, I thought I’d be bringing God’s Word with me into the city, but I found that it is already living and breathing right here.

I was also surprised to find our apartment complex so, well, functional. When we had our block party last month, neighbors did everything from bringing food to contribute to lending us a grill and then helping us figure out how to use it. They sporadically bring us interesting dishes from their respective cultures and constantly band together to celebrate events in each others’ lives.

You know, I thought I would be bringing true community into the city, but I found that it already exists here.

And some of you know how trying this year has been for me, how quiet God has remained, how I have struggled to live in the structure of Mission Year. And yet even in the darkest times, God eventually showed up and pulled me through (sometimes waiting until just the last minute). Most of the time He showed up through one of you or in the person of someone here.

I have seen Him most frequently not in other Christians in my circle of support here, but in very unlikely places, namely the homeless men whose feet I cared for and the first-graders I worked with. Some of the homeless men I know like to take time from their days to tell me how good God has been to them, even as they face another night on the street or in the rain or downstairs in our lice-infested shelter. Others of them just take a moment to tell me how much it means that I work on their stinky ol’ feet. My first graders loved on me by throwing their little arms around my waist, following me as I walked across the playground and drawing me all sorts of pictures.

You know, I thought I’d be bringing Jesus into the city, but it looks like He has been here for awhile.

And so I am sorry to report that my ministry here, what I thought would be quantifiable and bring tangible results, has left me with little visible to show for all my hard work. I didn’t baptize anyone or convert any drug dealers. I didn’t teach an illiterate adult to read. I didn’t find permanent shelter for a homeless person, and only about three of the guys in the rehab program at CityTeam who were there in September are still working on their recovery.

No, all I have is hope that the things I did here have shown God’s love and served His purpose and perhaps increased the Shalom in the world. I can tell you, though, that my roommates and I have provided attention for the kids who live in our apartment complex, in particular a four-year-old whose Mom works nights and leaves her daughter alone to run free and curses at her incessantly. I also believe that Mrs. Buljko, the first grade teacher who I assisted twice a week, benefitted from my time in her classroom. Juggling work and two children while taking college classes left her pretty worn out; she always loved to tell me how “Only God had brought me to her.” I believe it’s true. I have also made it my personal crusade to love extravagantly and encourage mercilessly the women with whom I share this small apartment. And I think I’ve done a pretty good job.

So let’s hope that out in Oakland somewhere tonight there is a homeless man with cleaner feet, a child who has seen love and perhaps can read a little better and a tired woman who has been given the special gift of seeing God at work in her life as well as the visible manifestations of God’s word, loving community and the Spirit of Jesus that already exist here.

It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting to accomplish, but I trust that it’s enough.

Short Update

I started a post about all that I have done recently, but it wasn’t that good. And I’m bored with it. So let me just tell you that I had an INCREDIBLE time at the Joni and Friends family retreat last week, that I get to fly home (with all of my hastily packed crap) on Tuesday, August 2 and cannot WAIT, especially because I have to go on a four-day retreat with everyone from my program this week, and I am NOT looking forward to it, for lots of different reasons.

I’ll post more later, perhaps when I am safely home. Not much occupies my time lately except packing and thinking about home.

It's not that informative,

but I still think you should read it.

T.E. Update

I realize that I probably didn’t paint a very nice picture of T.E. when I wrote about her yesterday. So let me say that she really does want to do what God wants, and she really does enjoy her job and tries to do it well. I guess she just gets a little lost on the way sometimes, as we all do. (And like I told her yesterday, just because your motivation is right doesn’t mean your decisions are. But sometimes the right motivation is all we have, I guess.)

I think perhaps the responsibility for the problems she and I have had relating to each other belongs to both of us. I haven’t been very open with her, have largely held her at arm’s length, and she hasn’t found a way to speak to me in my language.

So what now? Well, not much. I write weekly reflections because I promised to, and she lets me be. I think that’s a wonderful setup for now.

On meetings with The Enforcer

So today I had my one-on-one with one of the higher-ups here in town. (I am leaving out her name for her protection, but I will henceforth refer to her as “The Enforcer,” or T.E. for short. I know you can go to my program’s website and see her picture, but just work with me on this, okay? I feel kind of guilty about posting this here, she’d be offended if she read it, but I need to get it OUT OF ME. And I want you to understand what I’m dealing with here.)

Anyway, T.E. and I had a discussion about my lack of interest in writing weekly reflections. Here in my little world, every week we are expected to write about the events of the past week and our feelings about them in something like six different areas of our lives. Or we can just write a little something and hand it in to T.E. (This comes from Rule #845,326 in the handbook. Hmm, wouldn’t it be nice if the handbook actually told us things that would be absolutely, positively, non-negotiably required before we got here? Novel idea, I know.)

Anyway, a few weeks ago, I had begun reflecting on these reflections and my feelings about them. The main feeling I remember having was that I was tired of writing them, and didn’t see the point in it. So, I mentioned this in my reflection for the week and handed it in. I even went so far as to ask for some explanation on why I was required to write them. “What’s the point?” I asked.

T.E. sometimes comments on our reflections, and to this one she basically said, “Well, if you don’t know by now, with seven weeks left in the year, I’m not going to tell you.”

Which caused one reaction that I can remember, namely, “Fine. Obviously you have no good reason for this and I can’t think of any, so I’m going to quit doing it.” I didn’t think it would be a huge deal.

So I quit writing weekly reflections. And today during my one-one-one, which is a time when I sit down with T.E. once a month and tell her what I’ve already been writing in my reflections for the past four weeks (yes, all of the girls in the city meet with her, Rule #43), she brought up my comments about weekly reflections. She even said she was pissed off.

“Um, yeah, I could tell,” I said.

Now here’s where this turns from a perfectly logical, coherent conversation into something all about feelings. Which was not helpful to me at all. Here’s what I mean: T.E. proceeds to say that she must have told us all countless times that we write these things to keep her informed, but most importantly because reading them is how she feels loved. And she works very had on them.

And then I said something to the effect of, “Okay. But I’ve never seen any good come out of them. And you’ve even pretty much quit commenting on them. So why do I write them?”

At which point she insinuates that perhaps I’m not getting much out because I’m not putting enough in. And I’m thinking, “What else should I put in? I mean, I’m not going to tell you if I’m doing something that’s against the rules or something that might even possibly be against the rules. I really don’t trust you and our conversations are awkward. Therefore I don’t want to have to talk to you any more than necessary, so I’m not going to include anything that warrants a ‘conversation.’ Pretty much everything else about my non-exciting life goes in there.”

And then she looks like she’s going to tear up. So I don’t say any of that logical stuff (remember, this is not a logical conversation, anyway.) I do tell her, however, that I didn’t mean to insult her or insinuate that she’s not doing a good job, but I still don’t see why this is important, how it benefits me.

At this point she says that it benefits her, and I just have to trust that, whether I see the results or not. And that I have to do these reflections because it’s part of my program here. (Here’s where she threatens me.) And if I’m not going to do required parts of the program, well, then. . .

“Now it sounds like I’m threatening you,” she says.

“Yes,” I say, “I’m interested to hear the rest of that sentence.”

But she never finishes it. Just keeps talking about how I have to do this because I’m here.

And if this had been a logical conversation, I would have said, “C’mon, T.E. Are you going to KICK ME OUT with a month to go because I won’t write you a piece of paper once a week?” But remember, this is not logical.

(Now some of you may be wondering, “Why does she care if she gets kicked out? This program has been nothing but pain to her anyway.” At which point I would say, “Yes, that’s true. But I’ve made it this far, and I have some things to finish in the month of July, some camps to go to, some more footcare to perform, some people to tell good-bye. And darnit, I’m gonna FINISH THIS THING I STARTED, IF IT KILLS ME! And now it looks like it might.”)

And so I think about it. And how important it is to her. And how this is her “love language,” and I tell her that I’ll do this. For her. Not because she has convinced me in any way and certainly not because I see the point.

So afterwards I came back to the clinic and cried a little (WHAT AM I DOING HERE?) and then I called Barbie. Who said that being the bigger person is rarely fun. I said it is NEVER fun.

I am sick and tired of Christians. I am just tired of people, too. People are pains. And loving painful people is, well, not very pleasant.

I’m going to eat myself to death. Or drown myself in a huge vat of chocolate. Sounds good to me.

During lunch today I told God that I’d do this, that I’d love her, but I wouldn’t like it. To which he replied, “That’s okay, because you’re in Oakland. And in Oakland, we have joy, not fun.”

MIT Weblog Survey