SheLoves Magazine

Down We Go: Why Prepositions Matter

FROM THE ARCHIVES:

When it comes to serving Jesus in the trenches, there’s a huge difference between “to,” “for” and “with.”

By Kathy Escobar | Twitter: @kathyescobar
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Many people I know are tired of just talking about theology or participating in yet another Bible Study that increases knowledge but not practice. They are hopping off the “upwardly mobile” path that’s focused on bigger, better, and more successful and choosing instead the slow, scary path of descent–into the trenches, the margins of life and faith … the places where Jesus seemed to go.

But where do we start? What does it mean to live out the wild ways of Jesus in practice, not theory? To me, it means cultivating a life of extending love, mercy and compassion, welcoming pain, honoring doubt, diffusing power, practicing equality, pursuing justice, expressing creativity, and celebrating freedom. These eight core practices are explored deeply throughout Down We Go: Living Into the Wild Ways of Jesus.

But first, before diving in, we need to continually consider the importance of three prepositions that matter when it comes to a downwardly mobile life–the difference between “to”, “for” and “with.”

Power Shift

I was first exposed to this idea through my friends at the Center for Transforming Mission (www.ctmnet.org). They are dedicated to equipping grassroots leaders who are journeying with people in hard places around the world. Their work is built upon the premise that authentic transformational relationships cannot be built upon power or inequality. Even though many of us would nod and say “of course!” the reality is that many of the missional models we’ve been taught perpetuate a divide between “us” and “them” that is sometimes conscious, sometimes unconscious.

Considering these three prepositions has really shaken up so much of what I believe about living in the trenches with people.

• The Preposition “To” is Paternal and Creates Oppression

In most Christian and typical mission-oriented circles, the most prevalent preposition has become the word “to.”   The style of the preposition “to” is paternal. This idea is built on principles like:

“I have something I need to give to you.”

“I have wisdom I need to impart to you.”

“Here’s the advice, biblical truth or kernel of life-changing knowledge I have to give to you.” 

The problem with the preposition ”to” is that it begins with an “I’m up and you’re down” perspective of power that is patronizing and disempowering. Someone has more resources, knowledge and put-togetherness than the other.  This posture often ends up making the one on the receiving end feel like a project or even a loser.

• The Preposition “For” is Maternal and Creates Codependence

The preposition “for” is another easy reflex for most of us.  The style of the preposition “for” is maternal.  It’s when we want to do things for a hurting person.

“Let me makes these calls for you.”

“I don’t want you to hurt, so let me fix this part for you.”

“Your anxiety is giving me anxiety, so let me do what I can to take care of this anxiety for you.”

This is my reflex and the one I continually have to guard against in the work I do. The problem with this kind of approach to others is that it creates codependence. Helpers get sucked into helping and end in a one-up role where we need to take care of the person, make things happen for them, or remain in a position where we are always “serving.” It stays on those terms and remains a one-way relationship.

• The Preposition “With” is Incarnational and Creates Transformation

The preposition “with” changes everything. It means:

“I am with you in this moment, will stand alongside you, and am not walking ahead of you but alongside you.”

“I am in the same boat; I struggle, too, but my struggle may just look different.”

“I want to share life with you, not just take care of you or tell you what to do.”

“You have some things I need to learn from you, too. Let’s learn from each other.”

“With” removes imbalanced power from the relationship. It recognizes the fundamental dignity of the person and says, “I am here with you.”  It begins with listening for the deeper story that informs the suffering. It waits patiently for the person to ask for help, if needed, because sometimes people aren’t ready for help–sometimes people just need people to sit “with” as they work it out on their own.

Authentic

There is no question—”with” is scarier.  It means I let others know me instead of hiding behind doing good works at a protective distance. I make myself vulnerable and let others into my life, experience and heart, instead of just taking care of them to feel like I’m “helping.” Within the professional, clinical culture, as it is customarily taught, these kinds of “with” relationships may look like bad boundaries.

I understand how easy it is to stick with “to” and “for” modes of relationship. They protect us because they keep us in a place of power. They keep the focus off of us and on the other person. In the end, we don’t need “them;” they just need “us.” Even though that’s easier, I believe that “with each other” relationships create true transformation and are core to a life of downward mobility where there is no divide between “us and them.” 

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I’d love to hear your thoughts:

• What do you think about the difference between “to, for, and with” relationships?
• Which one is easiest for you to default toward?

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About Kathy:

Kathy Escobar co-pastors The Refuge, an eclectic faith community in North Denver dedicated to those on the margins of life and faith. She blogs regularly about life and faith at www.kathyescobar.com and just released a new book called, Down We Go–Living out the Wild Ways of Jesus in Action. She lives in Arvada, Colorado with her husband, Jose, and five kids.

Image credit: Chairs, by Peter Hellebrand

Finding Our Place in the Easter Story Today

On “bodied faith” + the meaning of the cross + participating in the story of Easter.

By Idelette McVicker @idelette | Twitter: @idelette
And Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha | Twitter: @kelljnik

I was in my pyjammies when Kelley’s HeyTell message came through this morning, wishing me a Good Friday. She mentioned how it’s ironic for her that we call it “Good” Friday when it involves the suffering, mockery and death of a revolutionary.

I had had a similar conversation with my kidlets in the car last night. It went something like this in the back of the car:

Tomorrow is Good Friday–yayyy!
But it really is a bad Friday, because Jesus died.
But it’s also good because He died for us, right?

As Kelley and my HeyTell conversation progressed and we each shared our interaction with the cross–thoughts on justice and freedom–I wondered: Perhaps we need to take this conversation to our SheLoves friends and invite others into the conversation.

While Kelley put another load in the dryer and finished boiling eggs, I put on some clothes and lipgloss and made a tray of food and drinks for my kids, asking them very kindly to please give Mommy a quiet moment to do a Skype video call.

Then we recorded our conversation. These 17 minutes are as real as real can get.

We’d love to invite you into this conversation between friends on Good Friday. Please join us in thinking about this day, what it means to all of us and where we find ourselves in this story.

Here are a few of the thoughts we touch on (and get pretty vulnerable) on:
- The cross–not accepting this reference in our faith language blindly, but wanting to have a revelation of its meaning.
- Jesus as a freedom-fighter–how He carried His pursuit of justice all the way to the cross.
- Jesus as non-violent revolutionary, yet crucified as terrorist.
- Remembering the woman who broke open her alabaster jar–her most precious–and anointed the feet of Jesus.
- Asking ourselves: Am I in the crowd, watching, or do I participate in the suffering of Jesus?

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Our dear SheLoves friends, we’d love to hear where YOU find yourself in the story of Easter today.

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About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

About Idelette:
I like soggy cereal and I would like to go to every spot on the map of the earth to meet our world’s women.

I dream of a world where no women or girls are for sale. I dream of a world where women and men are partners in doing the work that brings down a new Heaven on earth.

My word for the year is “Roar,” but I have learned it’s not about my voice rising as much as it is about our collective voices rising in unison to bring down walls of injustice.

I have three children and this place–right here, called shelovesmagazine.com–is my fourth baby. I am African, although my skin colour doesn’t tell you that story. I am also a little bit Chinese, because my heart lives there amongst the tall skyscrapers of Taipei and the mountains of Chiufen. Give me sweet chai and I think I’m in heaven. I live in Vancouver, Canada and I pledged my heart to Scott 11 years ago.

I believe in kindness and calling out the song in each other’s hearts. I also believe that Love covers–my gaps, my mistakes and the distances between us. I blog at idelette.com and tweet@idelette.

A Picture of Divine Love: For Sarah

“Go ahead, try me … Give me a chance to show you how much I can love you when you have gone out of your way to be unlovable.”

By Shekinah Jacob

The first time I saw you in the flesh, your body was still attached to mine, breathing my oxygen, sharing the same sheath of skin.

The unbroken umbilical cord made us one body, and when they placed you on my belly I struggled to register that moment in history, my mind panting to grasp it through the haze of exhaustion and the memory of the abyss of pain I’d been lost in just seconds before that.

I held your bloody, slimy fingers and croaked, “Hi there.”

Your eyes, filmed over with mucous and afterbirth, gazed out at the world you’d only heard but never seen.

And then they severed the umbilical cord; you were returned to me bathed and wrapped up, your face emerging from the bundle of linen like a newly-bloomed rosebud, an oven-warm loaf of bread– fresh delivery from another world.

When you were on your way out of my body, I felt as if I was at the butcher’s, being torn apart in a neat vertical line separating my right pelvic joint from the left, as if I were cleaved in half, all the way up to my cranium in order to make a passage for your entry into the world.

Extreme pain is like being stuck in the vortex of a fire. And they say fire purifies; it burns out the dross and births gold. I know that is true, because the pain distilled my love for you: drop by sweaty drop. It collected in an eternal reservoir of unfathomable, immeasurable love that never runs dry.

Catching my Breath

Although you are now four, you are still too young to know that the sight of your small eager face gazing at mine makes me catch my breath. Every now and then, I pull you close and hold you for a few moments. Sometimes you toss your head like a perky horse and wriggle out of my grasp, and then I use some guile to keep you there–a redundant question, a whispered nonsense of a secret, a silly joke. And while I keep you this close, I drink in the smell of your nutbrown skin, nuzzle your twig of a neck, rub my nose in your wayward hair.

Sometimes you turn around with a giggle or a puzzled stare and I stare back at you with all my strength, willing my eyes to send you a message that says I love you for being you.

Because you are mine.

Because you have my eyes and because your chipped tooth is the cutest imperfection I’ll see in my lifetime. And I want you to know that I will always love you.

Go ahead, try me.

Get impossibly fat, fail at something big, hate me for no reason, take your anger at the world and direct it at me. Give me a chance to show you how much I can love you when you have gone out of your way to be unlovable.

I keep telling you that God loves you just the way I do.

I tell you that I know he loves me too. But the truth is that often I lose my way in the maze of my own rational thinking.

God Loves Me 

I build walls with my imperfections, so I can blot out a perfect being. Just to help Him out, you know, so He can have his morning cup of tea without having to take me in with the view. On these days when I can’t look at myself in the mirror, I have moments of lucidity when I feel God’s pain at being left on the other side of my wall.

I want to believe that He loves me the way I love you, but it’s real hard.

It’s as if I can see all that love, but my heart tells me it’s just a pretty mirage in this desert of my making, that if I walked over for a closer look at it, all I’d be left with is the shadow of myself in the sand.

Wild Hope 

You’d think it would be easier, that my crazy mother-love for you would give me some insight; would help me hold onto the fact that perhaps a God who illogically courted pain for me, who deliberately picked out the worst kind of death to prove his love, might enjoy loving me, no matter what … despite my “what if’s” and “but why’s,” despite the manic Mondays and frivolous Fridays, despite the endless nail-biting, self-hating hours spent running after love.

But it’s real hard because often my heart refuses to keep up with my mind.

So, give me one more chance to hold you close again, to hear myself speak the unintelligible language of love, to keep murmuring until I detect in it the faint echoes of the real thing. Until my wild hope turns into the quiet certainty that I’m keeping a similarly insane love waiting, for me, on the other side of my wall.

About Shekinah:

Shekinah is a drama queen who lives in Chennai, India, with her knight (not always in shining armour because it tends to get too hot to wear metal clothing) and their two toddlers who make her laugh, and love her on bad hair days. Her idea of heaven is coffee, a good conversation, and cupcakes with zero calories. She likes writing about her family because it’s a good way to preserve the memories, and more enjoyable than taking photographs.

Image credit: EXISTENCE © Sara Robinson | Dreamstime.com; S Olsen via Pinterest

The Wild Gospel: Finding Life in Deserts

“Embracing the desert places is a sure way to move deeper into the things of God’s Kingdom come.”

By Danielle Strickland | Twitter: @djstrickland

We seem to have an insatiable appetite for the positive. Those of us who follow Jesus, often add “Jesus” as a name for our new “positive” attitude. I’ve seen more than one offer given to be “saved” presented as a means to be happy and wealthy. It’s funny when the Bible doesn’t seem to follow suit. Every single one of the 12 disciples were killed for their faith. Their lives, as a direct result of choosing to follow God led them to difficult circumstances. Granted, they did live adventurous and full lives, but they weren’t exactly poster people for Happiness.

It’s Lent. That’s the 40 days spent preparing our lives and hearts for the events of Easter. It’s a Christian tradition, but of course we borrowed it from the Jews who celebrated Passover by getting rid of everything with yeast in their homes. Yeast represented sin and the idea was to live completely free of it for the days leading up to Passover (the big event that saved the Israelites from their oppression in Egypt.)

Forty days

To kick off Lent, we often use the scripture where Jesus is tempted in the desert (wilderness), most likely because he spent 40 days and nights there. But maybe also for a few other reasons: it mirrors the 40 years the Israelites spent in the desert (Jesus did a fast forward version of the event in 40 days), and it was a time of testing (which is of course what the Israelites were supposed to be doing crossing the desert in 40 days–which turned into 40 long and mostly stupid years).

Jesus embraced the experience as a means of living a truly surrendered life, but the Israelites resisted it–they hated the desert, they hated to be “emptied” of themselves. Someone once said it took about a year to get Israel out of Egypt, but 40 years to get Egypt out of Israel.

We don’t have the time in this article to explore it in great detail, but Israel resisted the desert experience so much that they spent most of their lives walking around in circles, complaining and setting up towns that they named things like, “Bitter,” “Fat,” “Grumble” and–well, you get the idea.

Emptying

They wasted a whole generation resisting the process of “emptying.” (In Hebrew this is a reference to the “nothing” of creation–what God hovers over to create.) It’s what Philippians 2 explains about what Jesus did–he “emptied” himself of himself. And embraced the calling to save the world. The process of emptying–of getting to the place where the spirit can actually create something new–is a difficult one to understand and embrace. But it’s all through the scripture as a part of our faith journey. Embracing the desert places is a sure way to move deeper into the things of God’s Kingdom come.

It’s incredibly important for us to realize that the Spirit led Him there immediately after Jesus was baptized–which is, to be honest, a bit weird. Jesus had just embraced His divine calling to be the Messiah. He had immersed himself (literally by his baptism in the Jordan river) in the human condition in order to fight a way through the muck and the mire of our paralyzing sin, in order to make a new way to live and model a life lived fully.

Plus: it was a bit of a rock-star moment … The heavens parted, a dove settled on him and a voice from heaven affirmed his acceptance by the Father. That’s gotta be a good day! Maybe the best day–can you think of a day like that? When everything goes right? Seriously, a top-of-the-mountain moment … when you know deep inside yourself that you’ve heard the Father’s blessing. Even God is proud of you.

Then the scriptures do something strange. After an event like that, if you were interested in changing the world, you’d most likely stage a press conference–or head straight to Jerusalem to announce to the world powers that there’s a new King in town. Or something dramatic and public. Maybe you’d at least head home and tell your mom you told her so! You’ve made it now! The exact opposite of that happens. The scripturse says that immediately after Jesus was baptized, the Spirit led him into the wilderness.

Spirit-led into the Desert

The Spirit led him. Wow. I’m not sure about you–but I have a tendency to believe that everything that happens to me that is hard and horrible is from hell. The trouble is that I’ve most likely designated “hard” and “horrible” as anything that is difficult and tempting. You see, if we are honest, all the things we would do to “tell the good news” and to shout it aloud are all connected to what the devil brings to Jesus to do:

- Turn stones into bread. AKA: Use your gifts for yourself.

- Throw yourself from the highest point in the temple. AKA: Do something spectacular. Always aim for a big production. Public display. Power.

- Become King of the World now. AKA: Skip the pain. Compromise the process. Any means necessary for the same outcome.

What is striking about the temptations themselves is how little they veer from actually changing Jesus’ destination. The devil never once questions whether Jesus is truly the Messiah–whether He is coming to establish His kingdom –whether He is going to change the world. He only tempts Jesus in the WAY to do those things.

Jesus resists because He knows that the WAY He brings the Kingdom is as important as the Kingdom outcome itself. As Melissa Etheridge sang, and I just found out is actually a quote by a saintly dead guy: “All the way to heaven, is heaven.”

Smallness

What is remarkable about Jesus, is how much He embraced smallness in His life. Small towns, small people, small followers–always resisting the big and glorious things of the world. Resisting power and money and fame. He embraced the WAY of the Kingdom of God and showed us the Kingdom in living colour–and daily. Not under the applause of humanity but under the loving voice of our Father, proud as punch of who we are.

The thing the devil wants to get us to do, is follow Jesus but in a worldly way. Be a Christian–but live like everyone else. Be a follower of Jesus, but you don’t need to actually give your money away–keep it. Be a follower of Jesus but, well, you get the idea. What the devil tries to do is to get us to keep ourselves full of ourselves. And this is problematic. We can spend a whole lifetime wandering around in a wilderness, pathetically unhappy in our faith, questioning God and making up little places to settle in called “fat,” and “bitter” and “worldly” and miss the incredibly deeper experience of the emptying. Allowing the Holy Spirit to hover over our lives and start creating a new thing–in a new way.

Imagine what He has in mind.

I don’t know about you, but I’d like to embrace the desert in order that we might move on to the Promised Land. I’ve a feeling there is a lot there to do! Here’s praying for a forty-day Lent and a lifetime of God’s Kingdom come.

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About Danielle
Danielle serves Jesus as the Corps Officer of Crossroads Community in Edmonton, Canada. Her passion is social justice, including establishing human trafficking response teams in local situations and giving leadership to the global team for the Stop The Traffik campaign. Danielle speaks and teaches around the world and has written several books: Just Imagine: the social justice agenda, Challenging Evil and The Liberating Truth: How Jesus Empowers Women. Danielle is married and has two sons.

Down We Go: Practicing Equality

“The beautiful, wild body of Christ is supposed to be the one place where the playing field is leveled and all are equal.”

By Kathy Escobar | Twitter: @kathyescobar

“There is no more beautiful art than to see a person, a man, a woman, a child, crafted in God’s image and living as fully into that image of God that only they can fill. It not only makes them more beautiful, it makes God more beautiful.” -  Christa Romig-Leavitt

Part of a life centered on downward mobility means becoming people who practice equality in the relationships and systems we are in. Equality and power are intimately entwined. Like diffusion of power, equality means that everyone has an important voice that needs to be heard; it’s ensuring that everyone is welcome at the table.

Many of you reading haven’t felt equal in the systems you have been in.

- Your gifts have been undervalued.

- Your gender has been a barrier.

- You have not been treated equally.

It hurts.

And sometimes dreaming about really practicing equality feels scary.

It is, indeed, risky. But like so many of the ways of Jesus, we must try. Changing the world won’t come by staying stuck and unempowered.  It will come through brave men and women stepping up and into this important Kingdom principle: practicing equality.

Jesus broke down barriers of inequality. Now we need to play our part in it as well.

Equality crosses more than just gender.  Gender is sometimes the most obvious piece of equality to focus on, but gender equality dovetails into other divides such socio-economics, race, education and life circumstances. The beautiful, wild body of Christ is supposed to be the one place where the playing field is leveled and all are equal. The Apostle Paul reminds us, “There is no longer Jew or gentile, slave or free, male and female. All are one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3:28)

Many of us have heard this passage many times.

But many of us have not seen this passage practiced much.

So many things separate us and keep us from living out our full dignity as a child of God.

Equality means freedom from labels, distinctions, assumptions and preferences that look exactly like us. It begins with seeing the other as God sees them, as human beings created with a distinct and unique image. When one is put underneath another in a consistent up-down position, it means that one party’s power is always diminished. Equality is mutual submission, the kind that often gets overlooked: “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.”  (Ephesians 5:21)

For me, women being regarded as less than men damages the foundation of the value of human beings in a way that affects not only women but also the under-represented, voiceless, powerless and marginalized. If the two primary groups in humanity—men and women—aren’t treated equally, then it is a much greater stretch to expect other forms of equality.  In living out Jesus’ ways and creating equality-infused communities and little pockets of love, some critical questions need to be asked:

• Where am I experiencing inequality in relationships, organizations and systems?
• How can I begin to see myself as equal and others as equal?
• How do power and equality mix together?
• How can we work to make equality normal?

The best way to make equality normal is to just do it instead of talk about it. We have practiced making equality normal at The Refuge from the beginning.  We don’t talk much about women in leadership or why we have an open floor where anyone can share or elevate certain roles or titles above another.  We try to just practice it with actions not words.

However, practicing gender equality, like every other Kingdom principle, is not an easy task. There’s sometimes resistance to it.  We’ve had people leave our community because of our inclusion of homosexuals and our openness to a wide range of theological ideas. To them, this kind of radical equality is too scary. To us, it embodies the kind of healing space Jesus created.

“There are a lot of forces working against equality because of our natural human propensity to divide, judge, and power-up on each other.”

It will take brave men and women who are willing to go against the grain of the systems and cultures they live in to take a stand on behalf of a better way.

- It means we will have to make room for others at our tables.

- It means we will have to sit at tables we’re not used to sitting at.

- It means we will have to push through criticism and people throwing Bible-verses at us that tell us that we are in sin by seeing ourselves or others as equally qualified to lead.

- It means we will have to be brave.

- It means we will have to be humble.

- It means we will have to work to make equality normal.

God, help us be brave, humble, and willing to practice equality.

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My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear your thoughts on practicing equality:

1. How are you practicing equality?
2. What are you learning?

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About Kathy:
Kathy Escobar co-pastors The Refuge, an eclectic faith community in North Denver dedicated to those on the margins of life and faith. She blogs regularly about life and faith at www.kathyescobar.com and recently released her book called, Down We Go–Living out the Wild Ways of Jesus in Action. She lives in Arvada, Colorado with her husband, Jose, and five kids.

ShePonders: Restitution

“… I want to see this kind of salvation come to my house.”
By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha

Audio: ShePonders: Restitution

Click on the link above for an audio experience of Kelley’s post.

My beloved South African friend, René, traveled in, bringing gifts of rooibos tea and Merlot from a local wine farm. She shared in our holiday tradition of turkey roasting, potato mashing and thanks giving, not that many months ago. She regaled us with tales from her homeland that left us all thoughtful and thankful, for post-Apartheid South Africa is a complex context. We spent the next morning cloistered in conversation while clutching coffee. We spoke of the theological voice of women, restitution, mutual friends, favorite spices and she offered her wickedly good impression of Desmond Tutu.

Yes, we spoke of “restitution.” (Doesn’t everybody?) She is part of The Restitution Foundation, a group of South Africans devoted to thinking and enacting restitution in their country. They offer this scenario as an example:

“Imagine a man’s bicycle is stolen. This now means he has no transport, and cannot get to work; thus he loses his job. Without a job, he cannot educate his children or support his family. Perhaps he used that bicycle to run errands for the homebound elderly woman next door; now she is affected by the loss as well. Jobless and frustrated, he becomes a drain on his community rather than a resource. What would restitution look like in this situation? Certainly it is not just returning the bicycle. He is not the only person who has been affected by the crime; his family, his neighbors and his community have also suffered.”

“Compensation” would dictate that the bike be replaced. “Charity” would suggest offering some food to his family or maybe school supplies for his children. Restitution demands more, but can also deliver something much more lasting and transformative.

As we sipped the dregs of our morning coffee, she shared about her baggage boondoggle. Our domestic carrier charged her twice as much as expected for her two checked bags. This really put a crimp in her already tight budget. So from then on, each time I picked up the check for lunch or paid for her sundries along with mine at the grocery store, I’d wave it off as making restitution to her on behalf of my country’s airline policy. We’d laugh and carry on. It was a joke–because I’d planned on spoiling her every chance I got whilst she was in town! But the joke had legs– ones that began pushing on me in terms of what restitution means in my own context.

Satisfied

After the final meal we shared, she handed me the receipt for her baggage fees and declared that restitution had been satisfied; rather tongue-in-cheek! All laughing aside, I knew a new word had entered my discipleship vocabulary.

Zaccheus

Walking through Jericho one day, Jesus looked beyond and above the crowds and saw a small man perched in a tree. All the locals knew it was Zacchaeus, a rich man due to his work as the chief tax collector.

Jesus called out, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” The little man moved down the tree and into the street quickly, eyes shining with excitement at the unexpected opportunity to host the Rabbi.

“Lord, half of my possessions I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” It was then, after this astonishing statement of restitution, that Jesus declared, “Today salvation has come to this house … ”

Giving half of his possessions to the poor was an extravagant act of charity–a great start. But the most revolutionary action was the decision to offer restitution to those he defrauded. He knew his riches were gained by exploiting the poor and his actions had impoverished an entire community. His offer of restitution demonstrated his awareness that they deserved more than “charity” (discretionary giving from his abundance) and more than “compensation” (dollar for dollar repayment). His offering made it clear that he was moving away from unjust gains and toward the costly practice of justice. I think this is why Jesus declared that salvation, or transformation, had come to his house.

Think about those who he would repay over the next set of days–what must that exchange have been like? They would come face to face with the chief tax collector but this time they would walk away with a heavier purse–radical! They would look him in the eye and he would do the same and maybe for the first time ever they saw each other as “neighbor.” Amazing! This would mark the beginning of a new relationship between them and a new way of engaging in community life together. I imagine Zacchaeus’ road of restitution was hard and had its share of pitfalls as he learned this new practice, but I am convinced it was a worthwhile journey toward the good that blessed the entire neighborhood.

So, here is the lingering question: How do we incorporate the practice of restitution into our daily discipleship? My Palestinian friend makes me laugh. Our kids play together in the park most days. I think of the policies of my country toward her people, her homeland and wonder how I can enact restitution in the context of our friendship. My state is infamous for poor attitudes and treatment of the immigrant community–is this yet another opportunity for me to find some way of living out justice by practicing restitution?

The Restitution Foundation in South Africa helps whites think about their status as beneficiaries of power and privilege, as well as creating opportunities for them to participate in restitution in townships and other communities affected by the injustice of Apartheid. Maybe we be could reflect on how we might be beneficiaries of our own systems and consider the power and privilege we possess. Then, let’s get creative and imagine how we could practice acts of restitution for individuals of these communities.

It will be costly, radical and deeply transformative. But I want to see this kind of salvation come to my house!

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My dear friends, I would love to hear your thoughts on this:

For example:

• Where have you been the beneficiary of power and/or privilege?
• How can you imagine incorporating the practice of Restitution into your daily discipleship?
• Any other thoughts?

_________________________________

About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

ShePonders: Abundant Life

“When we have enough human dignity, enough freedom, enough food we actually come to see that we already live a life of abundance.”

By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha | Twitter: @kelljnik

So often I hear people speaking of  ”abundant life”–wanting it, claiming it as the right of every Christian. In a world that seems to exist in a straightjacket of scarcity, the notion of abundance sounds like a longed for oasis. The potential problem is that if we do not achieve the ideal of abundance, is the promise of Jesus a mere mirage in sands of our desert wandering?

What is Abundant Life–and can we have it?

We hear about the abundant life from the lips of John, the beloved disciple of Jesus. In John 10:10 we learn: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they might have life, and have it abundantly.” There it is–Jesus came so that we can have abundant life. Boom!

A bit of context is in order here, so let’s widen our lens a bit. Okay, let’s widen the lens a lot, back to chapter nine and the story of the man born blind. The long and the short of it is that Jesus mixed mud and spit, smeared it on his eyes, and when the blind man washed his eyes, he could see. All this happened on Sabbath, which further raised the ire of the already hostile Pharisees. The next 29 verses relay the story of their investigation into the healing. John goes to great length to make clear that the Pharisees can’t believe, are unable to imagine or refuse to accept the reports that Jesus healed a blind man. By the end of the chapter, Jesus basically had turned the tables so the blind can see and the sighted can’t.

I am the Gate.

It is to these sighted-yet-blinded Pharisees that Jesus tells a parable. He talks of sheep, bandits and shepherds. He says the sheep know the voice of their shepherd. But the Pharisees still didn’t get the gist of the story. So Jesus says “I am the gate for the sheep … I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.”  And in his further explanation of the parable we come to John 10:10 … “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they might have life, and have it abundantly.” The thieves in the parable come to harm the sheep. But Jesus comes to give the sheep abundant life.

Now we can tighten our lens to this set of verses and get a closer look.

First, notice the way abundant life functions in this parable: It is the sheep that are the recipients of abundant life. Interesting.

In the parable the thief comes to steal, kill and destroy. He wants to take the sheep away from the shepherd, kill the woolen animals and destroy the entire sheepfold.

Access

The gate, however, allows access. Those sheep that come through the gate will be saved. How are sheep saved? They are saved from peril like wild animals and, to the point of this parable, they are saved from thieves who mean them harm. Also we are told that the sheep are able to come and go through this gate. They are free to find pasture. So the gate allows the sheep to be saved from physical danger, to have freedom of movement and ample food.

This sounds like a good life for a sheep! You might even say that from the vantage point of the sheep this is abundant life. The gatekeeper, the gate, the shepherd ensures they have all they need. The fold is safe, free and fed.

[Abundance = Access to enough.]

Let’s not forget that Jesus was telling this story before a crowd of Palestinian Jews in the first century. As he explained the parable to them, it became evident he was talking about more than just sheep.  They were the sheep. He was the gate. The religious elites (among others) were the thieves. He was talking about them!

And if you were a peasant living under the occupation of the Roman Empire, if you were a good Jew trying to keep up with mounting temple taxes-–how would you hear this parable? You might think Jesus is saying there is salvation from the current oppressive regimes. You might hear that you can come and go freely without fear of colliding with a tax collector or a soldier who might enlist you to go a mile carrying his luggage. You might hear there will be ample food for you and your family. That would be a good gate … an entrance into abundant living.

First mention

Before we leave the text, there is one more question I want to ask: Where have we seen abundance in the Bible before? I go back to the beginning–to the garden. The creation story bursts at the seems: “plants yielding seed, and fruit trees of every kind on earth … swarms of living creatures … sea monsters and every living creature that moves, of every kind, with which the waters swarm and every winged bird of every kind … cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind …”  I am out of breath with the sheer abundance from just a few days of created goodness.  Wow!

Garden

According to the story, God created a lush garden as our point of origin. He intended us to live in a place of safety, a place where we could come and go, a place with ample food and so much more! Eden is our first glimpse at what abundance looks like. And as we recall, due to our over-reach, we were banned from the garden. That gate was closed to us … until Jesus comes and says that he is the gate, implying that he is the new gate back to creation goodness, perhaps?  I think there is a hint of that in John’s gospel. Jesus is the gate back to garden goodness; back to the abundant life we were designed to live with God and all of creation.

Maybe the story nudges us to see that the abundant life is not so much about getting everything we want, but about accessing everything God intended for us from the beginning. Simply put–we, like sheep, need freedom and food for abundant life.

Viable + vibrant

When sheep live under threat from thieves–safety, freedom and food look like abundant living by comparison. When Palestinian peasants eek out a living on the underside of the economy and brutal regime–freedom and food look like abundant life by comparison. Abundance equals access to enough. When we have enough human dignity, enough freedom, enough food we actually come to see that we already live a life of abundance.

Abundance is not having more wealth and more belongings; it is having enough to live a viable and vibrant life. We can come very close to the plight of the sighted yet blind Pharisees when we look for the abundant life without realizing that we are already living it!

There are, however, many around the globe that do live under constant threat, those who lack freedom and food. Jesus came that they, too, might have abundant life. When our blindness is cured, we can see our own abundance and see those who need us to be like Jesus, a gate to the abundant life.

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Audio: Abundant Life

Click on the link above for an audio experience of Kelley’s post.

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About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

When Grace Trumps Perfection

Confessions of a Far-From-Perfect Wife and Mom

By Angela Doell | Twitter: @adoell

It’s early morning and I’m curled up like a cat in my favourite place by the window, watching the sky crack open. I sip the first of my coffee, feeling grateful once again for the newness of the day. Heaven’s permission to start over. Fresh mercy. The Bible in my lap waits, open to Proverbs, but my eyes are drawn to the sky with expectancy. The shifting, fractured clouds promise light.

There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. -Leonard Cohen

I’m relieved this morning to leave yesterday behind. It wasn’t my finest. The short story: I’d come home a little late from work, wearing the day like a tight girdle. I quickly shifted into Mom mode, pulled together a passable dinner, and gathered my favourites to eat. Sadly … within three minutes of sitting down something set me off and I fully and pitifully lost the cool I’d been trying to maintain all day. I’d interpreted a comment about the meal as criticism.

Tears came so fast I could only attempt damage control. I wasn’t precious about the food or especially offended by what was said–my emotions just hijacked the moment. Our dinnertime consisted of me pushing my food around on the plate and trying to sneak quick sleeve-wipes of my eyes and dripping nose while my family ate in silence and snuck sidewise glances, wondering if Mom was losing it. (I was, for the record. I was losing it.)

The rest of the night wasn’t much better.

I’m imperfect. My marriage needs attention. My parenting could use some work. Part of me really hates it when my husband and kids witness my frail, brittle, tired bits. I feel better about presenting them with my best performance. I dream of being unquestionably strong and capable, always fully present.

I could probably fake perfect for a while if I really tried, but my kids are so wise to me. I can’t hide much from my husband. What’s real, and what the morning sunrise reminds me of, is that the broken me is enough.

I’m a wife and mom in need of grace, just as they are. 

I’m sure today will hold conversations. Opportunity for redemption. My prayer is that my family will know my weaknesses as well as God’s mercy as we walk this thing out. I pray that as our children grow and inevitably experience insecurity and weakness themselves, they’ll know from experience that Grace makes a way.

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,
   his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.
They’re created new every morning.
   How great your faithfulness!

Lamentations 3:22-23 MSG

Photo: Creative Commons

About Angela:

Angela and her husband Rod have been married for 18 years and they have two children, Madison (15) and Miller (12). Angela works at Relate Church in Surrey, BC. She loves finding beauty in everyday life and is passionate about communicating the grace, hope and reality of a living Jesus.

On An Honest Friday: Mustard Seed

“From me, he asks for a getting up. An invitation for the thaw. A lifting of this mustard seed faith of mine.”

By Laura Parker | Twitter: @LauraParkerblog

If my spiritual life were a dashboard in a flight cockpit, I’m pretty sure the red lights screaming, Danger! Crash-and-burn-imminent! would be angrily blinking.

Because my faith has taken a beating this year; a battering.

There’s been disappointments in ministry and a confusion of jobs. There’s been several house moves and enough goodbyes said that would make a grown man cry. There’s been money struggles and kid struggles and a community that seems awfully elusive. And then, there’s been this discussion of new theology that has rocked me to my core, driving me to ask questions and seek answers.

Which I haven’t really found.

And the result is that my faith finds itself laid-out on the mat of some cosmic boxing ring.

Battered, down, and staying that way, I’m afraid.

The past months have seen a slow chill creep in to my heart, and the voice of God has become a whisper that I haven’t taken time to strain an ear for. My cynicism–my “intelligent” wanderings–have ushered in more head than soul, and down on the mat I have wallowed.

And, this, I have discovered, is not a good thing. Especially as a homeschooling mom to three small children. Especially as a wife to a man, overwhelmed. Especially as a {gulp} Christian missionary.

But, here’s the thing I am {re}learning about this God I started following 25 years ago: He doesn’t ask for mountainous faith; doesn’t demand on-fire-perfection.

Instead, he asks for mustard seeds. And five loaves. And water in jugs where the wine’s already run out.

And from me? From me, he asks for a getting up. An invitation for the thaw. A lifting of this mustard seed faith of mine.

Case in point. My husband needed to travel to Bangkok from our home in Thailand in January. He had lined up several meetings that were crucial to our work here in Asia, and he felt like it was a trip God was asking him to step out in faith for–even though we didn’t have the money to buy the plane tickets or the funds for a hotel or a traveling partner to go with him.

But, he made calls and scheduled meetings, anyway. And then, over the next few weeks, I saw the mustard seed grow:

1. His plane ticket was paid for by another family here who heard about his meetings and wanted to encourage us.

2. Another friend has a brother who redeemed hotel points to get him to stay at a four-star hotel in Bangkok. He was planning on staying in hostels, but now will be spending the weekend in one of the nicest hotels in the entire city.

3. A friend from another city in Thailand has agreed to travel with him, attend meetings and be another ear to process with.

4. He has been able to schedule meetings with some key leaders which, honestly, were a long shot at even getting to the table with.

5. My heart is in a fresh place– expectant for the trip, hopeful for the outcomes. And ready to manage the kids as a solo-parent for the next several days, sans the typical woe-is-me syndrome I typically spout when he travels.

And, this, friends, for me is God in Action, God in the Boxing Ring who ushers me again to wobbly feet. And this Friday, as we celebrate things to be grateful for here at SheLoves, my husband works and dreams and prays, from a cushy hotel in Bangkok.

And his wife, at home with the three kids, finds her heart a little less cold, her faith a little made stronger, the red indicator lights not blinking with quite such panic as before.

And maybe both are more a miracle than I usually give credit for.

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My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

• What mustard seed have you seen growing in your life more recently?
• If your spiritual life were a dashboard in a cockpit, what would yours say today?
• Any other thoughts?

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About Laura:

Laura Parker is a freelance writer and homeschooling mom who currently lives in Thailand with her family. She and her husband run a travel ministry which seeks to mentor young adults and provide a greater awareness of human trafficking. She blogs honestly about a life in Asia, squatty-potties and all, at http://www.aLifeOverseas.com . She is also the founding editor for an inspirational website for educators, InspiredTeacher.net . She tweets from @LauraParkerBlog .

Down We Go: Honoring Doubt

“Now, I believe a critical element of our faith journey is a willingness to wrestle with doubt by honoring it, recognizing that it is part of faith.”

By Kathy Escobar | Twitter: @kathyescobar

“Doubt is uncomfortable, certainty is ridiculous.” – Voltaire

A few years ago my then 15-year-old daughter asked me a question out of the blue: “Mommy,” she asked, “what was there before God? I know God made the world, but how did he come into existence in the first place and what was ‘there’ before?” 

The first thing that crossed my mind was whipping out John 1 or Genesis 1; the only problem is those scriptures don’t properly answer her questions.

Instead, I resisted the panic rising in my chest and the fleeting thoughts that because I had no good answer, maybe my faith was a sham. Or even that I was actually an atheist. I responded, “Julia, way to go, asking the world’s most profound questions that no honest person can fully answer!” 

Right after that, the next question that got fired from the back seat by one of the nine-year-old twins was,  “While you’re at it, Mom, how do we know the Bible is true?”

Yeah, just an average day driving home from basketball practice for the Escobar family!

The Webster’s definition of doubt is: “to be uncertain about something; be undecided in opinion or belief.”  Some synonyms for “doubt” include:  apprehension, confusion, disbelief, lack of confidence, misgiving, mistrust, quandary, skepticism, suspicion, uncertainty, and reluctance.  Do you recognize any of these in your life right now?  The antonyms (or opposites) include:  belief, certainty, confidence, dependence, faith, reliance, and trust.

I used to think the sign of being a good Christian was a rock-solid certainty that I could back up with exact scriptures.  Now, I believe a critical element of our faith journey is a willingness to wrestle with doubt by honoring it, recognizing that it is part of faith.

Downward Mobility

Doubt is embedded in a life of descent, while certainty is often synonymous with ascent.  Even Jesus himself expressed doubt in the Garden of Gethsemane. As honest sojourners, we will always be living in the tension between doubt and faith.  Similar to the practice of welcoming pain, if we can’t embrace doubt in our own lives it is impossible to allow it in others.

And real people doubt.

As frustrating as it can be, doubt is part of the human experience.

We doubt we are lovable.

We doubt God is good.

We doubt all kinds of things, whether we say them out loud or not.  In the quietness of our hearts, in the darkness of night, most people, regardless of their beliefs, education, and socio-economic level, wrestle with some form of doubt.

Honoring doubt is similar to welcoming pain—living in the tension and not feeling the overwhelming need to make it all better and tie it up with a neat and tidy bow.  Julia’s question can never be fully wrapped up by slapping a scripture on it, even though I wish it were that easy.

We must learn to hold the space for doubt.

Life down in the trenches requires us to become people and communities who honor doubt. We must integrate into our practices safe places for ourselves and others to wrestle, and trust that God is at work in ways we sometimes can’t see.

I can’t tell you the number of times I have heard friends say, “I thought I was the only one who felt that way” after sharing their fears, questions, and doubts about theology or God or their faith experience and hearing that others are in the same boat, too.

We must find ways to allow people to doubt in public, instead of suffer in private. 

Pockets of love can hold the space for doubt because they put relationship above belief.  It is hard to live in the space of our own doubts and hold the space for others, but we must find a way.  Like welcoming pain, we must trust God is at work and our main responsibility is only to be present in the midst.

I’m more convinced than ever that we love better when we stop trying to resolve what can’t be fully resolved and focus on the very simple essentials instead:  love, love, and love.  Most people, regardless of their specific faith experience or struggle, tend to agree on one thing:  the importance of love.

We don’t have to have all the answers.

We don’t have to take away people’s pain and struggle with belief.

We don’t have to move people toward certainty.

What we do have to do is honor doubt as a natural part of the human experience.

I continue to learn, more than ever, that the downwardly mobile life requires honoring and respecting doubt–my own and others’–instead of resisting it.  It’s where real people live.

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My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

• Is it easy or hard for you to embrace your own doubts?  The doubts of others?
• What are you learning about doubt on your faith journey right now?

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About Kathy:
Kathy Escobar co-pastors The Refuge, an eclectic faith community in North Denver dedicated to those on the margins of life and faith. She blogs regularly about life and faith at www.kathyescobar.com and recently released her book called, Down We Go–Living out the Wild Ways of Jesus in Action. She lives in Arvada, Colorado with her husband, Jose, and five kids.