God is not a Capitalist.

I need to be writing an essay for school. I can't. My mind is being pulled in a hundred different directions. Unfortunately, not one of those is leading me down the path to completing (or even beginning, for that matter) this essay.

I was walking through the living room, and in passing heard a preview for an upcoming 700 Club segment. (Let me clarify that no one was in the living room, watching the 700 Club. I'm not sure why I feel such a strong need to tell you that...My pride doesn't want my family to be associated with Pat Robertson.) Anyway. The sound bite was something like, "See how one missionary's ideas could change an entire country in Africa." My initial intention of getting water from the kitchen was completely forgotten and I froze and stared at the TV.

REALLY? ONE man is going to change an African country with HIS ideas? His picture flashed across the screen and as I suspected, he wasn't himself African. He was a white American.

I didn't take the time to watch the segment. Its possible that the guy has pure intentions and a solid plan. But, more often than not, it seems that people waltz into other people's context thinking that they know the answers to everyone else's problems.

I think it is terribly unfortunate that people (myself included) see the world through such a biased, ethnocentric perspective that we believe that our way is the best way and everyone else is doing life wrong.

In the big picture, that means (to me) that it is not our job to take Capitalism and Americanized Christianity to the rest of the world. Just because it works (or does it?) for us does not mean that it is the solution for the world's problems. We are not called to proselytize. We are called to LOVE. I believe that an essential part of loving people is allowing them to use their own God given power, creativity, and perspective to build their own structures of government and their own practices in worshiping their Creator. If it is not simply the message of God's love, grace, and hope that we are taking to the lives of our brother's and sisters -- if we are attempting to indoctrinate them, to convince them to see the world through our eyes and to live according to our values and norms...then we become oppressors.

God is not confined to our systems, our beliefs, our practices. God is outside of and above all of those things. Certainly, he can use our pitiful attempts at government to further his work. But, that's all they are -- pitiful attempts. Everything established by man will fail. It will not last.

It is the message of the Kingdom of Heaven we cry out. A Kingdom of peace, justice, equality, grace, and love.

when your latte is free

I’m volunteering at Valley Mission once a week. I wish I could say I was doing it simply because I was compelled to keep living what I love to preach. But, I’m not. Two of my classes require that I have a combined total of 38 hours of community service. (Considering that number represented (less than) a week last year, it seemed like it would be a breeze. That is, until I realized I needed to factor in classes, homework, work, family life, friends, sleep and eating (oh yeah…I forgot about that again). Anyway, this is not a blog about my schedule.) Still, I am so thankful that God led me to the Mission. Although the environment and the staff’s expectations of me are very different, it has been so refreshing to be in the presence of people who can’t afford to do anything but be authentic. In many cases, their individuality is all they have left.

I already have stories to tell of the beautiful people I have met. Maybe I’ll tell some of those later. But, on to Beverly.

I met Beverly about a month ago at Starbucks while I was furiously making pumpkin spice lattes. She came in and everyone working with me greeted her really enthusiastically. I realized pretty quickly that she was a really special customer. It didn’t take me much longer to figure out why. Every day that she comes in, she enters with a wide smile, an exuberant greeting, and an obvious care for each of us. Her laugh brightens up my day and if only every customer would receive their drink (hers being a quad venti soy with whip pumpkin spice latte) with such joy…

It just so happens that Beverly is the Executive Director of Valley Mission. On Friday, she sat down with me at the desk for a few minutes and shared with me a tiny fragment of her story. Twenty years ago, Beverly lived at the Mission with her family. Now, she is well known in the social service community and is making a huge difference in the world around her.

She says she has a bad habit -- stopping her car whenever she sees a homeless person and asking them to come with her to the Mission. (I told her that I didn’t think it was a bad habit.) A few days ago, she was on her way to work and she saw a man on the side of the street holding a sign, asking for money. Slightly annoyed, she told God, “Well, alright, Lord. But let me get my coffee first.” She pulled in to Starbucks, ordered her drink, and the barista refused to let her pay. She had $10 in her wallet and, having gotten a $5 drink for free, she thanked God for giving her an extra $5 to give to the man.

Give and it will be given...

Now, I know there are a lot of arguments against giving money directly to the homeless. I’m not going to go into all of that. But, as she was telling me the story, my first thought was -- “awesome. God took care of her. She can give the guy five bucks and keep five.” But, no…she gave it all to him. The thought of keeping the money didn’t even enter her mind.

Lord, grant me a willing and generous heart.

holy tears

Darkness has not surrendered to light this morning. The clouds hover ominously, desperately trying to contain the rapidly increasing number of raindrops within. The weight becomes too great and, bursting forth from clouds’ bloated bellies, the rain drops begin their freefall. Falling, still falling, the ever changing droplets fill the air. Soft, transparent stones erecting an ephemeral liquid wall.

Whether it is my temper that affects theirs, or theirs mine, I am not sure. At times, it seems as though the rain drops are calling, inviting me to join their joyful dance upon the parched ground. Their silent descent ends with a jubilant spattering, like the pitter patter of little feet. Today, however, it seems as though the rain drops have been forced from their lofty resting place, plummeting sorrowfully, crashing helplessly into the ravenous ground below. I feel somehow responsible. It is as though God himself weeps with me this morning, his great eyes overflowing with tears, spilling forth from Heaven, falling to the wretched earth. Saturated, I stand purified as holy tears mingle with my own.