Allow me to open a window to my soul for a moment. I am tired. Really, really tired. In the CTM, EdT and Street Psalms communities around the world, we have been thinking long and hard about what spiritual formation looks like in really hard places and with grassroots leaders in those places whom we serve through the threefold process of training, modeling and sustaining.  We talk a lot about trying to figure out what the Jesuits meant by exploring a "spirituality on the run."  The Jesuits were deeply engaged in the world, always with "one foot raised."  I have read, but cannot personally speak to its validity, that Ignation spirituality required only 15 minutes a day for reflection so that the Jesuits would remain engaged in the world.   

As I sat down this morning to write this Word From Below, I had a direction I was all prepared to go given the fact that my colleagues this month are deeply "engaged in the world" through the work of training and theological reflection in  hard places. As I write, Kris Rocke and Mario Matos are in Port-au-Prince, Haiti participating in a series of vision trips and reflecting on the Scandal of the Cross and the ministry of Lament as the poetry of truth telling with Haitian leaders. From May 11-14, Scott Dewey and Jeff Johnson will be doing much the same in Nairobi along with Kenya Director Gideon Ochieng. In addition, at the moment Ron Ruthruff and Paul Patu are in Alaska walking through the CTM Intensive "In But Not Of: Understanding the Grammar of God." I had something really cool to write about all that when I got up this morning but now my gaze has shifted.

See, while all this "engagement "around the world is going on, I sit here in the Parque Central of Antigua, Guatemala on a two-day "escape" for writing and reflection. It is one of the most beautiful "parque central's" in all of Latin America. While sitting I become attentive to the contrast between the restlessness of my soul against the backdrop of the beauty and sweetness of the park.  A majestic fountain lies at the center of the park and around it all activity in the park revolves. European and U.S. tourists mingle with Indigenous women selling their "cosas tipicas" and smiling shoe shiner boys offering their services. There are lovers peering into each others eyes, children running and jumping around the fountain while the gentle breeze glistens their little faces with mist from the fountain spray and teenagers in their colorful, coordinated uniforms passing through the park with electricity in their step on the way to school. This morning, at this moment, all is well with the world in Parque Central.    

Why do I seldom find these kinds of "sweet, sacred centering times" in my life? Why is it that I have figured out so intricately the "running" part of Jesuit spirituality but have so poorly lived out the, dare I admit, "spirituality part" of the spirituality?

Of course the key here is not found in the idea of a momentary escape ("quiet time") from the noisy world where one settles into a quiet bench in a park centered by a stationary fountain whose hidden pumps spout recycled water up into the sky. No, my prayers for my friends in the trenches this morning are rooted in the idea of a spirituality on the run that see's the world as a "parque central" with the life giving fountain of God's presence in all places at all times. St. Bonaventure (1221-1274)said God is "within all things but not enclosed; outside all things, but not excluded; above all things, but not aloof; below all things, but not debased." Bonaventure spoke of God as one "whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere." This allowed Bonaventure to declare, "the origin, magnitude, multitude, beauty, fullness, activity and order of all created things" are the very "footprints" and "fingerprints" of God. Now that is quite a sacred, sweet and safe "park" to live in. Bonaventure seemed to see the whole world as the Parque Central I find myself sitting in right now!!

What would it look like if I could actually learn to live out the implications of that theological premise that I profoundly believe to be true?  What does this mean for the grassroots leaders in missional communities around the world needing a spirituality that can sustain them in the midst of insurmountable pain and hardship? W.H. Auden animates our work with his words,  "I know nothing, except what everyone knows if there when grace dances, I should dance." The truth of course is that grace is always dancing, often times most artfully in the very place my friends above currently find themselves.

The late missiologist and theologian Orlando Costas wrote, "With Jesus there came a fundamental shift in the location of salvation: the center was moved to the periphery....The fact that Jesus wrought salvation outside the Holy City does not mean that we have now a new salvific center but, rather, a permanent, moving center in the periphery of life."

Maybe that is what a spirituality on the run looks like. A beautiful fountain in a portable "parque central" that moves wherever I go if I can only cultivate the awareness to live into it? For now, at least, I am content to sit here on this bench in the sweet sacred moment of this particular parque central and pray for my friends in hard places that they too might dance today with the great Fountain of Life "whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere." Perhaps the ability to live into that reality will chase away the fatigue that threatens to suffocate hope in the hard places where we as a community are blessed to live and serve.

Peace,

- Joel Van Dyke, Director, CTM Latin America

Friend and colleague from Tacoma, John Lewis, recently returned from Beijing where he is piloting CTM's Street Psalms Intensives.  The cohort consists of 12 directors and staff from five Beijing non-profits working with vulnerable populations.   Below is an excerpt from John's personal journal of the training - a window into the work there.

After we spent time playing games last night we had bonded more as a group. Still, I woke up pretty convinced that our training yesterday had ended up being less than deeply moving.  I had felt less prepared and the discussion was less participatory that I had intended. The language barrier also led me to wonder how much is getting through anyway.

Here I was, raising up the theological flagpole the truth that God's spirit is unbounded, working far beyond where we imagine...and I was wondering if God had shown up yet. Heroic faith, eh? 

I shuffled down the hall into the meeting room to prepare for the final morning of the intensive.  There I saw Tina, the director of an orphanage with dozens of staff that give full time care to 37 orphans. After I greeted her, she passed quietly down the hallway to where I assumed she would fill her coffee cup. The next thing I heard was an impromptu prayer meeting with her and one of her coworkers. Clearly she was weeping and crying out in desperation to God ("God" was the only muffled Chinese word I could understand). We would find out later in the testimony time that an emotional dam swelled the day before and broke at the morning coffee pot.    

A few minutes later Aileen came into the great room; she is the co-director of Starfish, a ministry to sex trafficking victims that has both a jewelry factory and live-in facilities for the young girls. She and I smiled and greeted, but then I quickly lost track of her whereabouts. Minutes later, though, I heard more weeping and mumbling, but this time it was in my room, not down the hall.  After a few puzzling moments, I realized she was lying down prostrate behind the couch that was in between me and the fireplace. Ten minutes or so later, I noticed that her body straightened up into a sitting position. In the dim light I could still make out easily that her tears were mingling with joy.  

Later, in that same closing testimony time, we learned about the unbounded work of Spirit in her as well. Several of the prostitutes she had championed as success stories in Starfish now seemed out of her grip and God's as well: a single mom with a gorgeous baby feels forsaken by God...a graduate from the program set off to start her own jewelry business and went bankrupt. "Where is God in all this," she had cried...and found the message of the weekend hit her mark: "when darkness seems the only note playing, the Spirit is there, not only suffering with these girls but also promising hope..." 

Upon the tears of these two faithful ladies I felt a new confidence that God's spirit was perhaps unbounded even in our own retreat, working beyond any linear connections I could make to our sessions. With this gift of wind to my sail I headed into the final session having a fresh sense of where to go next, but not be bound by my perceptions or plans. Sure enough, God's spirit continued to work all morning in ways I could not have scripted. I saw eyes light up in hope, not of a quick fix, but of a door and journey opened.  

I am deeply grateful for John's willingness to pilot the Street Psalms Intensives in Beijing and the work of Compassion for Migrant Children with grassroots leaders.  There is so much we have to learn from these leaders. 

Peace, 

- Kris Rocke, CTM Executive Director

One percent of people worldwide have a college degree. I don't know the stats for those with a doctoral degree, but I am guessing it is a mere fraction of one percent. Yikes!

As a training organization we recognize the power of education, but we also recognize that education does not necessarily equal transformation - far from it! In fact, inflated heads often produce shrinking hearts, which are often disconnected from the practical skills of well-trained hands. All of this is easily divorced from the realities of life on the ground. In a nutshell, this dis-integration is one of the main problems of education, particularly when it comes to education concerning high-risk communities.

For nearly ten years now we have been exploring ways of training grassroots leaders that re-connect the head, heart and hands - ways that are truly transformational. We focus most of our efforts in non-formal, non-degree training among grassroots leaders in hard places. However, we can't deny that formal education holds an important place in the global urban context.

The number of students pursuing the masters degree that we offer in partnership with Bakke Graduate University continues to grow. Currently, we have more than 50 masters students who are enrolled or have just completed their degree. Last month ten more students joined the masters program. More than half of our students live in Nairobi, Kenya.

The level of reflection and insight among the students is stunning. Here is an excerpt from Pastor Esau Oreso, a student in Nairobi. Esau and his classmates just completed another course last week with CTM Associate Ron Ruthruff. Esau writes...

In our most recent class on "relief" I was reminded of the complex nature of service delivery among people who live in poverty. The very agencies that help us are also the agencies that often exploit our communities. This puts us in a complicated relationship with those who serve. Perhaps this is why justice is not just the re-distribution of programs and services, but is also the re-distribution of power itself.

Esau's words are encouraging and a little haunting. The fact that CTM is not immune from his words, gives me great pause. But I would be less than honest if I did not also admit that we are genuinely, if cautiously, encouraged with the degree program that we offer.

Buoyed by a sense of God's leading and the reality of educational disparity, we are exploring additional academic partnerships with Latin America's largest seminary, SETECA. We are also in the early stages of a conversation with an academic partner in Haiti.

To be clear, our goal is not to become a formal training institution. We have no intention of forsaking our foundational commitment to non-degree training. However, we acknowledge that we are increasingly becoming a bridge between the academy and the street. As such, we want to be a bridge that re-connects heads, hearts and hands in the name of Jesus. We want to see transformation, not just education. In the words of Esau, we want to see justice.

All of our staff has (or is working on) advanced degrees. We are a fraction of one percent and find little comfort in this fact. Please pray that we might be good stewards of our power as wells as our programs. It is a unique and incredibly challenging role to play.

- Kris Rocke is the Executive Director of CTM

Reflections on Theological Combustion

Last week, Joel Van Dyke shared a bit about the implications of a diesel-fueled missional community in Guatemala developed around the CTM intensives and sustained through continued theological reflection. Like Guatemala, Nairobi has been the site of countless sparks and doses of gasoline, rather than sustained diesel-like solutions. A friend of mine recently shared with me that there are 10,000 organizations that are connected with Kibera, Nairobi's largest informal settlement. This figure represents everything from North American-based churches and organizations that are connected with Kibera in miniscule ways to the nearly 1,000 community-based organizations that are housed within Kibera. While this community brings in an estimated 30 million US Dollars (2 Billion KSH) each year, there are still a million people living in poverty, most of whom have never reaped the benefits of these outside organizations. Spark after spark and gallon after gallon of gasoline has been poured onto this community, yet the core fundamental problems remain.

Gideon Ochieng, the director of CTM in Nairobi has been walking closely with a group of 30 grassroots leaders that serve in the informal settlements (slums) for about four years now. As Kris and I visited over the past few weeks, it became increasingly clear that the fruits of his labor are coming alive. While many of us westerners laugh about Kenyan's "pole-pole" pace (slowly-slowly), I began to wonder if their approach better models the formation of a sustainable community that does not require continual energy and fuel. If it was up to me and my North American demeanor, I probably would have come in, poured on the gas and waited impatiently for sparks to ignite. Due in part to Gideon's commitment and leadership in Nairobi, CTM is entering a new phase with a four-year relationship as an important foundation.

While I cannot quite pinpoint what is happening, it feels to me that CTM's presence in Nairobi has rounded an important corner. It is more than the masters program that we have launched in partnership with Seattle-based Bakke Graduate University and Nairobi-based Carlile College. It is even bigger than the $40,000 grant that we have received to develop a resource center for grassroots leaders, to explore meaningful demonstration projects and explore a sustainable organizational model that supports organizations, leaders and initiatives that extend beyond the scope and reach of CTM. It even spans beyond the affirmation that we have received from international associates along the way. For some reason, the barometer that stuck with me as I left Nairobi last night was the level of laughter among the CTM network.

While jokers in the network like Fred and Simon Peter have always been quick to solicit laughs from their peers, there was something different this time around about the network's ability to find humor in serious topics, in their own weaknesses and the communities in which they serve. Much of our conversation in the "Image is everything" conversation was centered around what it means to lead and live through a spirituality of imperfection. With biblical roots and ties to the foundation of Alcoholics Anonymous, a spirituality of imperfection invites us to acknowledge, to address and to live through the weaknesses and limitations that mark our unique selves. Four years ago, a conversation like this in Nairobi would have been devastating rather than an openness to challenge and delight with those in this tight-knit community that have walked a long ways together. The CTM network has been through a great deal in the last four years. Ranging from weddings and newborns to violent elections and four masters level courses, it feels like a sustainable, authentic and transformative community is in the process of being formed.

We quickly learned that leading through areas of vulnerability and imperfection is a risky endeavor in the slums of Nairobi. As leaders and pastors, members of the CTM network continually feel under the microscope of their communities. Many cannot ignore the role of teacher, pastor, doctor, counselor, financial advisor and friend that they play in the communities they serve. They underscored the demands of their congregations, of youth and even their own families in modeling what appears to be a flawless spirituality of perfection. One of the leaders went as far to suggest that this type of spirituality could cost him his call as a pastor.

It is in conversations like these that we see the real need for a diesel-fueled community, one that walks slowly and intentionally, seeking counsel and speaking out along the way. Rather than leaders feeling isolated from a dominant culture that demands perfection, we pray for the continued formation of a gracious space in Nairobi where leaders are invited to create a community of imperfection. It is our hope that with a healthy dose of laughter and meaningful relationships, they can develop the courage and clarity to fight the temptation to ignore their imperfections. A diesel-sustained community allows us to fall into the cracks in our humanity, to embrace our weaknesses and to open our minds and hearts to how God is using us in powerful ways.

- Joel Zylstra

Reflections on Theological Combustion

I had an incredible lunch yesterday with two members of our grassroots EdT (Estrategia de Transformacion) missional community here in Guatemala City. As I mentioned last week, the EdT is the name we use for the work of CTM in Latin America which is a strategic partnership with Christian Reformed World Missions. At lunch today I sat down with Tita Evertz who directs an amazing ministry in a place we affectionately call "La Gran Republica de La Limonada." La Limonada is purportedly the largest slum in Central America as a gorge that has become home for some 60,000 people. What used to be a beautiful river in the ravine has now become the exit point for all the trash and raw sewage of the community. Tita and her team of La Limonada residents run two schools and serve the children and families there in far more ways that I could ever begin to put into words.

The other person at the lunch was Pastor Erwin "Shorty" Luna. Shorty grew up on the streets of Guatemala as a street kid and is an ex-gang member. He now serves as one of the gang chaplains in the gang chaplaincy initiative having worked tirelessly in maximum security gang units of Guatemala's prisons over the past 3 years. Shorty also pastors a church and runs a rehab center for ex-gang members and drug addicts. Two years ago a graduate of his rehabilitation center returned home to his community and started an outreach in his living room. That process has now lead to the removing of three walls in his home to make more room for the people that have joined this new church plant being pastored by "Little G" who is another ex-gang member and disciple of Shorty's.

Needless to say, we had an animated lunch conversation. A conversation about practical ways to put into practice the missional theology they have been exploring together over the past three years in our monthly meetings where we do theological reflection via "jazz theology" guided by the theological intensives that make up the CTM Street Psalms Series. Tita and Shorty had never met before the establishment of our missional community in Guatemala City but we were now having lunch together to discuss the possibility of them joining forces towards the dream of a church planting effort in "La Gran Republica de La Limonada." Although not with us at this particular lunch, Gerardo Deras, another ex-gang member and member of the gang chaplaincy team, had shared with Shorty his dream to co-pastor such a church plant focusing on the youth of La Limonada. During Lunch, Tita described how this was all developing into a potentially amazing answer to years and years of her prayers for La Limonada.

While driving home from the lunch through chaotic Guatemala City traffic, I was reminded of the musings by a dear ministry colleague of mine and member of our missional community here in Guatemala named Steve Osborn. Several weeks ago, after a breakfast meeting with Steve and some other leaders about the dream of seeing a "Center of Transformation" established in Guatemala inspired by a model of something that had occurred in Nicaragua (www.nehemiahcenter.net), he wrote this thought that I have extracted out of an e-mail:

During our conversation this morning I kind of got lost with the analogy I was trying to make regarding diesel versus gas combustion. I need to get concise, but the point is that previous transformation attempts in Guatemala haven't worked. I think people have come and wanted transformation (like the chemical transformation that occurs in combustion) and have wanted sure results. Thus, they have tried to use a gas combustion model by assembling the proper materials like a distilled, well developed program and then introduce "the spark." It burns great for a while, but not without continual spark. In a diesel combustion, however, the assembled materials are earthier, less defined, and distilled, and harder to ignite. But in the chamber, it reaches a certain density (compression) and then the combustion occurs spontaneously. It is harder to get going, but then continues even without a continuous spark. Remove the spark, and the gas engine stops. However, there is no need of the spark in the diesel engine because it keeps going until it runs out of fuel. Once we get enough density of agents of transformation all combining with the Oxygen (filled with the Holy Spirit) the combustion will occur and we will be amazed as the engine just keeps on running. We need to think diesel, not gasoline.

The difference between gas and diesel combustion is a very helpful way for me to reflect on my lunch yesterday with Tita and Shorty. The Street Psalms theological intensives become diesel fuel that, after being explored for several years in a given community (the chamber to use Steve's words), combust into unstoppable relationships and missional partnerships on behalf of the least, last and the lost of a city. Thus, solid theological reflection centered in missional themes fueled by the incarnation are the means to and end. The end being the development of grassroots leaders to serve high-risk youth and families in hard places--Our mission statement at CTM.

It is a great blessing indeed to see this kind of missional combustion happening in Guatemala City as evidenced by my lunch yesterday and in Santo Domingo as was reflected on in last weeks CTM update. I can't wait to hear the latest stories of combustion coming from Nairobi where Kris Rocke and Joel Zylstra just spent two weeks with Gideon Ochieng, CTM Nairbo Director, training among and with the missional community there. This kind of work is "messy and earthy and hard to ignite" but once it reaches enough density (compression), missional combustion occurs spontaneously and it keeps running and running. Pondering all of this stuff I have to agree with my friend Steve--"We need to think diesel, not gasoline."

- Joel Van Dyke - Director Estrategia de Transformacion

 The CTM network is learning how to pray with our eyes open. We call it “sacramental discernment.” It is a discipline that informs our work and is central to the training we offer the roughly 1,000 leaders we serve. Simply put, discernment is the ability to see the Spirit at work (or play) in the world, to point to it, and to join in. In this way we are learning to map the geography of God’s grace. Our discernment or mapping process includes three basic exercises. We map the pain of a particular place. We map the hope of a particular place. And we map the heart. We briefly mentioned this a couple of weeks ago when describing that activities of a CTM Listening Post. Here is a short description of how we practice discernment.

• Mapping Pain: The primary way we map pain is through a public, liturgy called ”Moment of Blessing,” (Spanish version) developed by Associated Ministries in Tacoma. It is a street level liturgy for victims of violent death. We stand in solidarity with the pain of a community by reclaiming the actual place of death and declaring that space as sacred and holy ground.
• Mapping Hope: The primary way we map hope is through what we call “vision trips.” We identify, visit and encourage key ministries/churches/organizations that are performing signs of hope among high-risk youth and families. We think it is important to practice seeing hope in action without trying to use it, copy it, replicate it or do anything with it except see it, acknowledge it and celebrate it.
• Mapping the Heart: The primary way we map the heart is through an open prayer table. Each of the CTM sites hosts and participates in an open and inclusive table for leaders who gather regularly to pray for their city. For example, here in Tacoma, we meet weekly at the Northwest Leadership Foundation to pray for the city of Tacoma. Each week we explore, not only God’s heart, but our own.

Perhaps it sounds overly simplistic and lacks some of the spiritual-calisthenics of more rigorous ministries but we have found that these three commitments, when practiced regularly and with others, help us see God’s grace more clearly in a given place. We are also learning that it is important, not only to practice these disciplines in community but to practice them in concert with each other.

For example, an isolated emphasis on “pain” can produce cynicism and despair. An isolated emphasis on hope can produce detachment and delusion. And trying to map something as wild and free as the heart (God’s or our own) apart from real pain and real hope is not only futile, it is downright dangerous. But something profound begins to happen when these practices are allowed to inform one another in a kind of Trinitarian dance or dialogue. Over time, both the Word and the World come into focus. They are seen and experienced in and through the lens of grace. It is really quite freeing.

Of course, none of this is new. For thousands of years the Church has used these and other disciplines to practice the art of discernment. We have simply dusted a few of the more obvious practices off and experimented with an arrangement that works for a network of overworked and overwhelmed leaders serving in some really hard places. By the way, we don’t own the rights to these practices and there is always plenty of room at the table for others. You are always welcome.

Originally posted by: Kris Rocke on May 11, 2009

Last week Joel Van Dyke shared about our work in Latin America in partnership with Christian Reformed World Mission. He shared about what it means to give voice to the voiceless. Exhuming 250,000 people who were murdered and granting them the dignity of a name/story and taking the time to hear that story is a rare gift indeed. It makes me think of the Christians during the Middle Ages who washed and cared for the bodies of those who died from the Plague and gave them the dignity of a proper burial at great risk to their own lives.

At a time of economic meltdown when our cultural addiction to unbridled success and personal gain are being exposed, I wonder if the Spirit is trying to teach us something through Joel and others who labor under the radar screen of success. It is an amazing privilege to support leaders who serve in seemingly “no-win” circumstances. The stories are endless and are a kind of tonic for me.

I am not suggesting that we are the Mother Teresa’s of grassroots ministry. (I have visited her work in Calcutta with my wife Lana, Joel Van Dyke, and Tim Merrill, another CTM Associate. We were all moved to see such generosity and dignity displayed where the outcome is certain death). Rather, I am trying to admit that I am constantly tempted to craft programs that allow us more control over outcomes and make us look better on paper and to our funders. I am happy to report that we have some of these programs, but I must confess that I want a lot more and not always for the right reasons.

I too want to “succeed.” I too want to be a “winner.” I too want to tackle the dehumanizing demon of poverty and violence and see lives transformed. But I live in a culture that so easily distorts this very healthy desire into a raging addiction that consumes me and others.

I worry about this addiction within myself as well as the Church and what it is doing to our expectations about ministry. I sometimes wonder if God has raised up CTM because we are recovering addicts seeking sobriety in this regard. We not only inspire leaders to serve in hard places and equip the Church to love the least, but we give young leaders a safe place to “fail” and come face to face with their temptation to hide behind “success” - to use it as a smokescreen to cover the fear, anxiety and deep uncertainty in themselves as well as God.

As the financial markets continue to crumble, perhaps the Spirit is moving, hovering, and calling something new to life that will free us to love without condition. Joel and the many others who labor with him remind me that it is not the power of our programs that transform, but the unconditional love of Jesus at work in us and through us. We are desperate for leaders who get this. Heck, I am desperate to get this. May it be so.

Originally  posted by: Kris Rocke on Mar 16, 2009

Mario Mato’s, who directs our work in the Dominican Republic, led a trip to Haiti last week. Mario’s family is from Haiti. The trip included Joel Van Dyke, who oversees our work in Latin America, Edwin Solis who is one of our prison chaplains in Guatemala, Carlos who is our partner in Nicaragua and Levi Johnsen who is a CTM intern assisting Mario in the DR. They were invited to explore the possibility of training leaders in Haiti. Much to their surprise, two hundred leaders showed up and a local seminary invited our team to consider ways to partner. It was an overwhelming reception.

I have to be honest, I am not entirely comfortable with the favor we seem to have in some of the world’s most challenging communities. When we started this thing seven years ago I never imaged CTM would be working internationally. I must also confess that the rest of our staff is as ecstatic as I am troubled. They love this stuff. It is really hard to lead something when you trail so far behind. It’s like trying to run with horses. I’ve mostly stopped trying to keep up and have begun to simply enjoy it.

I invite you to read the following reflection from our intern Levi, who was on the trip to Haiti, and perhaps you will understand what I am feeling. Heck, the kid’s only 19! Somebody should send this guy to college and hire him to run something or send us the money and I’ll hire him and he can take my job. What a gift!

Levi writes,

I was walking with a group of friends along a street in a rough part of Port-au-Prince. We were going to visit a church, one of many that we had the pleasure of visiting. This particular church is on a steep hillside that overlooks the city and the ocean. In many ways it was a beautiful location, when looking far away. But as you focus on the immediate surroundings, the extreme poverty comes into view. Sewage drips down the streets as children play with kites made from trash. The group stopped and looked over the city. One of the pastors was rattling off statistics and then mentioned something about Haiti being a “Third World” country. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, as I am not a fan of this particular term. “You mean ‘developing’ country, right?” I said, attempting to correct him. “No, look around…this is Third World. There is no development here.”

After that visit we went to a church in Cite Soleil, a slum city that the UN, in 2004 called “the most dangerous place on Earth”. A slight exaggeration, but I can see where they would get the idea. Don’t worry, Mom, I was completely safe-ish. In Cite Soleil we visited a church that has been in the middle of the violence for some time. Once, a four hour gun fight between U.N. soldiers and the Haitian gangs (called Chimeres in Creole) raged outside the church trapping the congregation. The pastor told us the story how they learned how to pray like they never knew they were capable of doing. In this area, many churches were shut down out of fear. This one stayed open. The pastor then started talking about things that the community, and others like it, needed from Christians. It wasn’t bigger churches with better music. It wasn’t week long vacation bible schools. It wasn’t 3 point sermons with a creative spiritual “to-do” list. It wasn’t money, aid, charity, or donations.

He called for the body of Christ to be as much about social development as it is about spiritual development. This struck me, since it was something I had been recently thinking. I heard something from a missionary that disturbed me on a very deep level. “There is no hope for Haiti, but the good news is the amount of churches is growing.” How can we pretend to love our neighbor while letting the quality of their life deteriorate? How can we preach to those in hunger? In most cases, the avenues of spiritual issues and social issues never intersect. I wonder what life would look like if we lived on the corner of that intersection?

 Here are some other things I have been up to…

• Saw a voodoo ritual in Haiti in the street
• Got stopped by a cop at one in the morning. He wanted a bribe or else he would throw me in jail. I told him about my two brothers who are cops, and how much I respect his noble profession. He let me go.
• Saw the Columbus’ house
• Bit into some bread that was given to me that had maggots in it, and out of respect ate the entire piece. I should have done the old “pretend-to-take-a-drink-and-spit-out-the-food-in-the-cup” trick that got me through so many meals growing up. I always drank milk at dinner because it wasn’t clear and could hide vegetables. Sorry mom.
• Went to the ocean and then had some ice cream

To read more reflections by Levi go to: http://momentofclarity-mwihoko.blogspot.com/

 Originally posted by: Kris Rocke on Feb 16, 2009

Each Sunday for the last year or so I have been attending a breakfast for low income and homeless residents of Tacoma at our church, Urban Grace where I serve as a parish associate. One of the great saints of Tacoma and a member of our congregation, Willie Stewart, has coordinated this breakfast now for more than five years. Anywhere from 150 to 300 people attend the breakfast. The tables are clean, the place is safe and warm, the volunteers are great and the food ain’t bad either.

Recently a few of us started a conversation called “Word On The Street” (after a great book with the same title) for those who attend the breakfast. Our conversation is not a “best practice” by any means. In fact, sometimes it’s more like a bad skit than a real conversation. Two weeks ago a guy wandered into the middle of the circle wearing a fake leopard skin coat announcing all of his addictions to the group. We were grateful that that’s all he announced. That same week a lady abruptly left the circle in a huff, clearly preoccupied with another conversation happening somewhere in her head. With a few of these colorful exceptions noted, most participants come to the conversation remarkably engaged and respectful of each other. It is really quite amazing.

It is uncertain how the current economic landscape will affect the streets of Tacoma. I am guessing that life will not get any easier for our friends who are homeless and who live on the dangerous edge of poverty. Who knows, some of us may be joining them soon. What I do know is that each week there are a handful of deeply flawed yet courageous people who gather for a good meal and a good word.

We end each conversation with the reminder that because of Christ we are forgiven and we are loved. I admit that these words are not the same as a house or a job. They do not transport us to work and back, nor do these words promise sobriety or physical healing. They aren’t much, but they are good words and good words are rare.

Most of the people we serve at the breakfast bear the marks of having been beaten and abused with words. If we are honest, we know that we are the embodiment of the words that have lodged themselves in our souls (for good or ill). Whoever invented the old adage that “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me,” didn’t know much about words.

And so we offer a good breakfast and a good word each week. It ain’t much, but in a world where a good breakfast and a good word may become increasingly rare, I’d like to think that it makes a difference. Good meals, good words; it is the stuff that good communities are made of and it is the very stuff of the Gospel itself.

 Originally posted by: Kris Rocke on Jan 26, 2009