Rites of Passage into American Malehood

If I ever tell you that I'm bored I give you permission to sock me a good one in the ribs. Since moving into our new community, I have realized two things: 1. All things are possible. 2. Boredom is not an option here. All one must do is to stick one's head out of one's door, and there before you is an organic story, ever unfolding, day and night.

Today has been no exception. I just gave my first pep talk to a young lad who had endured the ageless custom of circumcision this afternoon. Up until this point in my life I've never known a human male who was old enough to describe the discomfort of the procedure.

M & I came back from a quick shopping trip and were going to run up the stairs to our second story suite when a lovely neighbor lady who lives under the stairs (not literally... her door opens beneath the stair way) waved hello. Naturally, I waved back & said a big hearty, "Howdy Friends!" to her & her little great nephew, who looked to be all of four years old, and who also looked pantsless. As if to explain her little boy's au natural appearance from the belt down, she quipped, "Little boy just got circumsized today. Won't let nobody touch him." Half-way up the stairs by this point, and looking through the steps, I inquired, "Um, isn't he a tad bit old for that?" She shrugged and replied, "he was a premie, and they wouldn't do it until now...." Having nothing to say to that, I looked at the little boy in his appropriately red shirt. He wore nothing else but a frown and a look about his face which screamed "aint nobody touching me ever again, punks". Inwardly questioning the sanity of our culture, and hoping to tap into this small male's injured masculine psychy, I hollered down, "It's gonna be alright, buddy. We all make it through it. You're gonna be fine." And I know he will be... in time. We all get over it, right guys? Right? And now if you'll excuse me, you'll find me weeping silently in the corner.

I'd Give Anything for a Klondike Bar

Tuesday evening a missional community group from Mosaic came over to put on a “big Tuesday” event for the kids at our apartment complex. There were kids eating hot dogs with chips, kids drinking lemonaid, kids hoo-la-hooping… but most of all, there were dozens of kids swimming in the greenish yellow ppool. It must have been the Holy Spirit that gave me the guts to immerse myself in the questionably mirky waters, and I ran up to our apartment to change into my trunks & was back in a flash to begin my new-found ministry of turning wet ppool kids into human rockets.

For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the first sounds of those moments.... “Are YOU gonna swim with us!?” “Watch out! He’s coming in!” SPLOOSH! I snagged my first victim and up and over he went, squalling with a boisterous mixture of fear and delight. A small child on two floaty-noodles paddled up to me, screaming, “White man, White man! Throw Me White Man!!!” [Note: I am one out of no more than four caucasian men presently living at Chateau, so it makes sense that the lad identified me as such & I admire his keen sense of integrity in not mincing words.] I quickly established two things with young Jayden. 1. I don’t throw screamers, so you’d better lower your voice a bit, young friend; and 2. You can call me Mr. Joseph.

“Mr. Jophus, Mr. Jophus, Throw me!!!” “Sure, buddy. Here ya go.” Up & over & Whoopthsh! “Again, Again white ma… er, Mr. Jophus!”
And that is how it went for quite some time. And then out of nowhere, I remembered something from an all guys' float trip last week. Before jumping off a bridge into the river, one of our friends, Bub, dared Mark to shout out the words to a Klondike Bar commercial “I’d do anything for a Klondike bar!" and then jump in. For whatever reason, that influence Bub demonstrated over Mark was hilarious, and I knew I had to give it a try.

Within minutes, a new tradition had begun at the Chateau apartments for all the denizens there in. “Hey Jayden,” I said, “this time I’m gonna hold you up & I want you to shout "I'd do anything for a Klondike Bar, and THEN I’ll rocket you into the pool, ok?” It was amazing! The adults, watching from dryer ground got just as much a kick out of it as the kids did. There was “Gimme a break… break me off a piece of that kitkat bar!” Splash!! followed by “superman will save your life!” Sploosh! , and then, "Da da da da da, I’m Lovin’ It’" Wazammy! followed by “na na na na na na na na batman!” and the ever popular, “Comcast, We Deliver!” Whoosh!

I do believe we went through a dozen commercials that evening.

I can't wait to come up with more.

Friend or Foe?, We may never know....

I Awoke @ 11:30PM last night to some very persistent knocking on our door. Being new to our apartment complex in 72204 zip code, I decided by default not to answer our door after 10PM unless we're expecting somebody.... I considered looking through the window, just to the left of the door, but knew I'd be spotted if I did, and I did not want to be spotted, whether it be a curious neighbor or somebody who was up to no good. The neighbor part would not be so bad, except for the fact that we don't want to begin any bad habits with our new friends. Being available after certain hours could become an expectation some might have of us, and that's not a habbit I'm willing to form since I have a job and a lovely wife who is expecting.

Whomever our unsolicited visitor was, he or she gave up at midnight. Thank God.

I finally got some good res after that, and the rest is history.

I have some suspicions among our neighbors who our visitor may have been, and I intend to pay somebody a visit to inquire about as much.

The Move In Day, Saturday, was one full of grace & blessing: It was warm enough to move (nearly 110.F), and nobody froze.

Molly and I had 13 offers of help, and 11 folks showed up to help us. We went from 7AM until 1:45PM. Molly's brother & sis-in-law were superhuman in their energy levels & commitment. We really look up to them in so many ways & are so thankful that they're in our lives, along with their cute boys-- my dear nephews.

On move in day, I was told by our new neighbor, "welcome to the hood." :) I really appreciated that. And I feel welcomed. We're blessed with some very nice neighbors who are friendly as all get out... some, maybe too friendly. :) haha.

Looking forward to whatever adventure God brings us next.

While we are aware of the quote, "there is no safer place to be than in the center of God's will," we also are keenly aware of the assumption the Psalms & Proverbs make of days of tragedy & suffering in the lives of the Children of God. It's like my cousin & cousin-in-law who live in Costa Rica: They're definitely sacrificing a lot to be in their present ministry, and they love doing it. I would submit that they are "in the will of God/ doing God's will". However, this did not preclude the recent robberies they've sustained over the past two months. They have lost many personal effects, including my cousin's wedding ring. :( So, in short, we recognize that we're striving to be in the will of God, to enjoy Him wherever He calls us, but we also do not believe that He owes us anything in exchange. On the contrary, we are attempting to love people on His behalf out of thankful hearts for all that He has done & does for us! He is so good, and as my good friend James E. Wafford III states so eloquently, "Even if God did nothing more for me ever again, He's already done enough." Amen! Let's Live!

Life as of July 28, 2010

My days are filled with data spreadsheet projects for soon-to-be published medical papers on Myeloma & related disorders, and meeting patients. It's a fascinating thing to observe folks' differing responses to their physical plight: Patients with Middle to Upper class backgrounds nearly always lower the shoulder & attempt to take as much control as possible by becoming educated about all they can do to keep themselves healthy. Some folks with lower-class backgrounds appear angry and very distrustful in the beginning, but then grow to accept it and then become nearly too compliant, not asking questions, simply having given up that they'd ever know as much as a Dr. or Nurse.... It breaks my heart to see such lack of hope in some people. Speaking of which, yes, indeed. Molly and I are about to undergo a transition into a new phase of life: I will become a Resident Assistant for a new program called Immerse Arkansas ( seen here: http://vimeo.com/12093077 )--set up to assist teens who have "graduated" out of the Arkansas Foster Care System immerse themselves into adulthood. This new venture will require Molly and me to move into an older apartment complex in a slightly less affluent part of the city.

In other news, we're excited about also "immersing" :) ourselves into parenthood come Febuary 3rd, 2011. Once our move settles in, we expect to focus a bit more on that new thought. Our commitment to the R.A. position with Immerse AR is for 1 year. After that time we'll re-assess and see how our 788-square-foot apartment fits our child's needs as he/she begins to take his/her first steps.

Yoatgurt: Perfectly Pregnant with Ceativity

My beautiful wife of two and a half years is pregnant with our first child! As one might imagine, I am both excited & experiencing a lot of new things through this endeavor.

I just want to brag on my increasingly… um… inventive wife. This is why I Cc'd some friends on this e-mail I sent her this morning:


Dearest Molly,
I want to thank you for bringing me into your world a little bit this morning. A world that is increasingly made up of new flavors, colors, shapes and tastes. New... life, really!

For instance, the tartly-organic, yogurt-flavored oatmeal I was surprised to see this morning was especially exotic!

Yours is a labor of love that you show daily in faithfully packing me new and exciting ways to do lunch. You truly are the pregnantly-inspired master chef in my life. I adore you.

Grateful for new experiences,
Joseph

"Healer"

Just received some of the saddest news one could ever receive. See below e-mail[I've removed their names for privacy]:
"Hello all.

Many of you know D and S from church. They lost their 1.5 year old daughter, "baby A", yesterday to cancer. They have been at Children's for the past month and have now returned home. I can only imagine the grieving they have done over the past month and now this week.
They are members of Mosaic and are very receptive and appreciative of any meals we can offer. (They were eating fast food for the past month as D continued working, S stayed at the hospital, and they both continued to care for their ten year old child.)...etc."

my thoughts:
How horrifying for them.... It's a nightmare turned reality for a parent. How awful for everyone who knows them. How sinister an offense of this damnedable, cursed, broken world! How dare this baby be snatched from the arms of her loving mommy & hard-working, long-suffering daddy!

O Jesus, come quickly & redeam Your world, please.

I think of the struggle I've had with the Hillsong song we've sung in church, "I believe You're my Healer"....

I have had thoughts like, "Where is our Healer when there is such pain & loss... and suffering after the loss? Is He Really our Healer?? And then I think of the graciousness of God to have gone through all of that pain and suffering before us. To have lost His only child to a world of pain. I've since realized that the words of the song remain true, despite my painful experiences.

Precious baby A now knows this better than I'll ever figure out in my lifetime. I praise God that He has overcome, and He truly is the Ultimate Healer, whether He does so in this life or after. Today, baby A sings songs to her Healer - beautiful, lively songs that would blow our wildest imaginations!

In the mean time, we are left here without her. We pray for grace, for comfort, for hope... until the day when we are all together with Jesus & with baby A.

"Even so, Come Quickly, Lord Jesus!"

Thoughts about My Life and Jesus and Little Rock

So here’s What I’m thinking presently & praying about:

1. F. Chan recently announced he’s leaving his church in order to move his family into the inner city of L.A., or Thailand… praying about which I think. He was broken by the comfort of being a super-star pastor, and decided he was not living enough like Jesus lived. He shared his and his wife’s longing to hear the words “Well done” from the Father, and how very very short this life is.

2. Francis Chan, Matt Chandler, Shane Claiborne and some other speakers were used by the Spirit to break me & Molly at Exponential. I wept several times while throughout the conference. I repented of loving pleasure, comfort, and feeling safe more than I loved Jesus & those He came to bless—the least of these. I learned that, come judgment day, the only questionnaire we’ll have to face is Jesus asking these questions: “I was hungry, did you feed me? I was naked, did you clothe me? I was in prison, did you come and visit me? … I was a little kid w/o a loving family, did you play with me and show me love? … I was RC & Becky (homeless couple) sitting under the elm tree outside of Walgreens… did you talk w/ me and pray for me? Did you ask me how you could love me? … I was the in the group of homeless guys who gather outside of your church meeting-building. Did you ignore me on your way into your programs, or did you smile at me and get to know me over the past 18-months until you could truly say with conviction that you had love for me (a story told by my pastor yesterday)… I was a group of 18 to 24-y-o kids (America’s orphans) aging out of the state’s foster care system w/ no family or viable community of people to network with, did you help me and ask how you could get me up on my feet as an adult? Did you pray for my emotional healing? Did you give up your silly little comfortable townhouse in the heights neighborhood, and move into a little worse-end of town so that you could love me as an R.A. in an ugly apartment complex? Did you? Or did you love your fleeting comfort, your pseudo feelings of safety? Did you value MY Dream above the so called “American dream”?...

3. I recognize that with all my programmed ministries within the walls of the church, I am less like the good Samaritan, and more like the Levite who stepped over the man in need, so that he could get to church. I also realized that I had wicked pride built up in my heat over choosing an intentionally multi-ethnic, poorer neighborhood church to attend, rather than a cool, and popular, rich, suburban church. I’m glad we are there, mind you, but I realized that it’s far too easy to presume that we’re doing the will of God in the church building’s neighborhood, simply because we drive up on Sundays and Wednesdays, and hide inside the walls of the church—I realized there’s nothing different about this than if I were to walk inside the walls of a rich, white church in West Little Rock…. If all I’m doing is ducking inside the building to do some programs, then I’ve missed the heart of God. If our church truly wants to impact the community it’s in, then members of the church will have to live in the community. Instead of asking ourselves where the best elementary schools are in the city, and move to that area and buy a house, we have to ask where the worst one is, and move there so that we can know Jesus in that school, and fight along w/ our neighbors in order to improve it.

4. If God continues to lead us, we’re planning to move into an old apartment complex in an area that some might deem “the hood’ in order to know Jesus in the lives of ‘the least of these’—1 block away from our church in the 72204 zip code area—the most crime-ridden in Arkansas. Yes, we’re a little scared. But I long to treasure Jesus over comfort.

6. If/when God makes a way for time & expense, I’ll pursue seminary online through either Liberty U, or Moody Bible Institute.

7. Please pray for us toward these ends. Thank you very much.

Some quotes from Exponential:

“Some pastors do have to be called to the rich, white church… but too many of us presume that’s it’s us.” -- Matt Carter, Pastor of Austin Stone church

"If the world were 100 people, 67 would be far from God, 20 would be living in extreme poverty" – Ferguson

“How can we worship a homeless man on Sunday and not serve one on Monday.” ~ Shane Claiborne