Messy Communities

“It costs the candle no light of its own to share light with another candle.” I was sitting in a Ugandan church service when the pastor said this, and I was instantly struck by the reality that it must be a universal reality to have to fight this scarcity mindset. Although he was encouraging us to share the good news of Jesus with unbelievers, I’ve been reflecting on how this truth applies to even believer relationships. We can be all too quick to give in to the lie that if a friend spends time or resources or energy on someone else, it means there will be less left over for me.

It was the exact lie my colleague and I were trying to help the sobbing 5th grader in my office face last week, when she spoke the truest words she could at her age: “Friendships are so messy!” Too true. We can all picture that person who saps all our energy, or the one who flakes out on us, or (like my student) the one we wish would pay more attention to us, whose attention spent elsewhere makes us jealous or lonely. 

Last week, social media reminded me that it was the 79th anniversary of the death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor who took a stand against the Third Reich and paid the ultimate price for his courage. Ever since I read Eugene Peterson’s book A Long Obedience in the Same Direction in college, I’ve always associated Psalm 133 with Dietrich Bonhoeffer, so I pulled it out again over the weekend.

Psalm 133: A song of ascents. Of David.

1 Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!

2 It is like precious oil on the head, running down on the beard,

on the beard of Aaron,

running down on the collar of his robes?

3 It is like the dew of Hermon, which falls on the mountains of Zion!

For there the LORD has commanded the blessing,

life forevermore.

As Peterson unpacks this psalm in his book, he makes the statement that believers don’t get the luxury of asking “Am I going to be part of a community of a faith?” because there’s no choosing, not really. The psalm calls us brothers and sisters, and you don’t get a choice whether or not your parents give you siblings. The true question is “How am I going to be part of a community of faith?” Because when relationships get messy, when siblings fight and it feels like it’s costing us our own light, will we still choose to believe that the community of faith is a gift from God? That it’s “good and pleasant,” that it’s like “oil poured on the head” and “dew of Hermon falling on Mount Zion.”

Those are funny choice images. Well, the first one. I think most of us can imagine how the dew of a beautiful semi-alpine mountain suddenly appearing on a much lower hill in Jerusalem, in a semi-arid climate no less, would be a really lovely thing, how it would bring refreshment and nourishment to plants and perhaps life and beauty. The oil image, however, doesn’t sound as appealing. Dripping down our heads and staining clothes? We have to refer back to Exodus 29 when Aaron was being installed as high priest and then take note that throughout Scripture, anointing oil was synonymous with God’s presence and His Spirit being with a person. Peterson writes that to picture the other person drenched in oil is remembering again that they are a priest.

This is not an easy task. When the 5th grader lamented the same thing last week, my colleague was the one who pointed out to her that it’s pretty much impossible to do on our own. But that's exactly the beauty of the gospel - Jesus died and rose again and sent his Spirit to live inside of us so that we have a chance. When the Spirit inside of me is the same Spirit inside of you, there should be a bond, a common calling, a shared mission of seeing Jesus glorified together in our community. It’s what connects a German pastor from 80 years ago to a Ugandan pastor in 2024. That’s why giving you encouragement or time or resources or friendship isn’t really as costly as I think it’s going to be. Jesus already paid the price. Bonhoeffer writes, “Our community with one another consists solely in what Christ has done in both of us.” He goes on to say how much we need each other, to preach truth repeatedly to one another, to gift each other dew and oil.

And how does it all end? According to the psalmist, in blessing and life forevermore. In multiplied light and a community that works for one another’s good. According to 1 Peter 2:9, we’re a royal priesthood to proclaim the excellencies of him who called us out of darkness. I’m not sure what challenges you will face in your community this week, but the question isn’t will you choose to be a part of it; the question is how will you live out the reality that you are.

Ugandan pastor is on the left in white

Games with Friends

“Hmm,” Jill mused thoughtfully, surveying the landscape before her, the colorful birds, the verdant grassland, the berries that were both for us and the critters. “I think I’m going to lay eggs,” she said decidedly. Nobody blinked. We watched as she reached into the container holding all the colorful eggs and retrieved one pink and one brown one and plopped them both on the card displaying the Black-eared Wood Quail. Then it was my turn. I took no time at all in playing my Fork-tailed Swift, even though it cost me one berry and one worm, and just like that Ellen was up. She eyed the birds that were available for the taking, and I held my breath. Don’t take the Trumpeter Swan; don’t take the Trumpeter Swan,” I muttered under my breath. Almost as if she heard me, she swooped in and grabbed the swan to get a closer look. Due to my involuntary groan, she smiled slyly and kept the card, messing up my plans for the next three turns.

If you haven’t played Wingspan before, it’s a competitive, card-building game in which you collect birds for your various habitats and try to gain the most points using said birds or eggs or your bonus challenges. But what really makes the game stand out is the beauty of its design. The artwork is nothing less than exquisite as each bird seems to have been meticulously painted. Getting to roll the food dice through the creative bird feeder is everyone’s favorite action, and Amanda has a particular fondness for the pink eggs. But one of the best designs, in my opinion, is that you can choose one strategy for yourself and stick with it all game long, and it’s just as valid of a strategy as any other. In one game, Ellen chose to focus on Bonus points, Missy collected eggs, and I aimed for the most bird feathers. Our final scores? Missy - 56, Ellen - 55, Katrina - 55. So close! That’s a mark of a well-designed game.

Jill straightened the food tokens in front of her while Ellen tried to partner her Trumpeter Swan with a Northern Loon. I was nervously counting out rounds to see if I’d actually have a chance at making my Bonus challenges when Suzanne came out of nowhere and whooped us all. But we laughed and marveled at the names and colors and beauty of Wingspan. “How about next month again?”

My Love for Chrysalis

I’ve written in the past about how much I love the Chrysalis program. “Everyone grows,” one dad said to me once about it. The Middle Schoolers grow in unity with one another and are challenged in their faith. The Seniors also grow in their walk with Jesus (hopefully) as well as their confidence and experience in leading well. And the adult leaders? I have grown immensely, both in my ability to organize a program of this scale and in the crafting and shaping of talks, especially planning out their long-term progression.

The Middle School students, from my viewpoint, usually come to absolutely love their Senior leaders. I have a picture of one of them about to cross the finish line at a track meet, and in the background you can see three of his MS guys, their faces all clearly cheering and screaming him on. On our Karaoke Night, Eric ended with a solo, and the applause from the Seniors and thus the crowd was deafening. There’s an adoration and a connection that is naturally built up when someone invests in you over the course of 9 months, but even more so because these Seniors actually love the younger ones and are consistently trying to point them to Jesus. They aren’t in it for the fame and glory, but for the relationship and the faith journey.

Last night we played “5 forms of Tag”; they included Hot Dot Tag, Freeze Tag, Tunnel Tag, Mob Tag, and Toilet Tag. Guess which is the Middle School favorite? And from there we went into our version of MS worship, which involves youtube songs and TONS of jumping and actions. I looked around the room last night and saw Seniors screaming louder and hopping higher, and the young kids love them for it. Even if they roll their eyes at first, by the second verse, they’re right there with them.

This loving relationship has been extremely evident these weeks as the Seniors take over giving all the talks. Wow, have I been floored by the depth of conversations we’ve had in my office as they prepare and process. They genuinely want the kids to benefit. And the best part is when that happens, when the kids come away with thoughtful responses or repeating the phrases they heard. “Worship isn’t an action; it’s a lifestyle.” “When Ashley talked about how hard it is to forgive someone, I could totally relate!” “How do I actually hear the song of the King?”

The reality that love can never be repaid hits me hard as I write. There’s not enough chocolate or paper for Thank you cards with which I can express my gratitude to these Seniors for helping to love and serve these younger kids. I suppose the best repayment is simply to emulate them, to pray that the growth they’ve experienced as Chrysalis leaders carries them forward into their next phase of life and to pray the Juniors (who start applying today - yay) will equally grow in love and service as we look forward to a new class of Middle Schoolers.

Track Day with cheering Middle Schoolers

Eric's Solo

January Walks

People think I'm a little bit crazy to be out here. They’re not wrong. When I leave the house in the morning, it is 22 degrees F (-7 C), so even though I am wearing five layers, I can feel the chill creep down my neck and attempt to crack my lips. The haze is thick over Kandern, but I actually emerge from it rather quickly on the first uphill. My heart pumping, I look out over the sleepy village before turning south, deeper into the woods. The sun is just lighting up the crowns of the trees, and it feels a bit less like crazy and a bit more like magic.

The world is dressed in ice crystals. I pause often to try to capture it in photograph, but none will ever do it justice. The ground is so hard, I can practically walk over any part of it that I want to. At one point, a mysterious strand of Caution tape that is wrapped in a square on the high embankment beckons me to clamber up and see what it’s protecting. A giant rectangle-shaped hole is dug roughly six feet deep, which feels suspicious, but I decide to listen to the crunch of the frost rather than to wonder about bodies. 

The sun finally emerges over the crest and filters through the Black Forest trees, its shadows casting long and straight across my footpath. There aren’t many birds awake, merely a lone woodpecker who keeps German work hours and seems to feel the urgency to finish before noon. The trickle of water surprises me since most of the world is frozen, but then I notice that the liquid flows beneath a layer of ice in the ditch. I continue to crunch my way south, squinting whenever the trees give way to a clearing or a vineyard.

When the castle comes into view, the frosted stones catch my breath. White over yellow with the Baden flag fluttering softly in the breeze - it’s stunning. And while I might say that about most castles, this one has found a special place in my heart over time, the marker that my morning hike is nearing its finale, the warm cup of coffee nearly visible now as I stand on the castle hill and look down into Lörrach. My cheeks are burned pink in the selfie, and somehow I'm both warm from walking and still cold at the same time. I have an hour before the basketball game starts that I came for, and even though it’s going to take the rest of the day to fully warm up, every step was worth it.

Joy of Being Wanted

I think I’ve discovered the secret to feeling loved: a horde of nieces and nephews who come thundering at you when you emerge from baggage claim so that within seconds all you see is their heads and all you feel is their arms wrapping around you. Sigh. I adore those nuggets. How do you bottle up that kind of joy?

On my first morning, after the deep sleep that only comes after a 26-hour travel day, I walked out onto the Lanai with my coffee, amazed to find the Pacific Ocean a mere 20 meters from my toes. As I joined Dad and Jen and the nuggets slowly trickled out, we found ourselves watching the morning kayakers go by. Suddenly someone squealed “Whale,” and sure enough, I looked up just in time to see the tail dip back below the surface with a splash. It regaled us a few more times to many oohs and ahs, only to be followed as an encore by a pod of dolphins having a party. They jumped and spun and did that tail-dance thing that I thought was made up in cartoons. We couldn’t help ourselves; we were laughing and clapping and filming and fully present in a beautiful, joy-filled moment.

The two-and-a-half weeks with the family went by way too quickly and were so so so good. From beach-themed gingerbread house building to a surprise Anniversary Dinner for the parents to a hike through a lava tube at Volcano National Park to the candlelight service at Scott’s church to visiting the battleship U.S.S. Missouri, it was all so rich. When the parents took me to the airport, all I wanted to do was find the repeat button. Of course nothing is perfect, and there were times we needed to take breaks from one another. For my part it came on the day I lay in bed with a fever, but on the whole we never got sick of each other. No one ran away, and there were no big blow-ups. In fact, the struggle was often how we could logistically all get to the beach or the Aloha Swap or the sunrise hike. How do you fully grasp the feeling of being wanted like that?

It’s hard not to grieve for those of our students who went home for the Christmas break and didn’t get that feeling. Welcoming a person in is so simple that my nuggets could do it for me, and yet it's not a skill our society is particularly good at these days. It's always been an aim of mine that every student who walks into my office would feel seen and loved. To get a piece of candy from my candy jar, they must “pay” me with a high-five because I want at least one instance of healthy touch for them that day. Don’t get me wrong, the majority of my students come from wholesome families, but communicating the feeling of being wanted? I’m not big into resolutions, but I do believe in promptings from the Holy Spirit, so this is my area for growth in 2024.

Gingerbread "Houses"

Christmas Eve 2023

Light Up

When I was a kid, I had this tradition on the first day our tree went up. When my parents were wrestling my younger brothers into bed and I finally had the living room to myself, I crawled underneath the tree and lay on my back with my head as close to the trunk as possible. That way it was twinkle lights and greenery as far up as I could see. I felt then as if I was among the stars.

And I think of Abraham now. Without the glow of modern pollution, how many stars did he actually see that night in Genesis 15 when God told him to look up and try to count them? Or in Genesis 22 when God made the promise that his offspring would be as numerous as those stars? Not only that, but his offspring would possess the gate of his enemies and all the nations of the earth would be blessed because of him. Did Isaac also look up and anticipate? Wonder? Doubt? Confer with Yahweh? I close my eyes so that when I open them, the lights will twinkle all the more while my pupils seek to adjust to their sudden presence, from dark to light. 

And I think of Isaiah now. He got to see Abraham’s descendants multiply, but there was often little hope as they suffered under the weight of sin. Yet he makes this claim: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” Four verses later he speaks of the child being born, and the connection between that human baby the light seems obvious to me in this day. With my face mere centimeters from the lowest lights, I thought of what it would be like to touch light. 

And I think of the shepherds in Luke 2 now. What would it have been like to go from black darkness of night to having an angel appear and bringing the full glory of Yahweh with him as he spoke of “good news.” Talk about an eye adjustment. As if that weren’t enough, he was then joined by a “multitude of the heavenly host,” perhaps as many as the stars of Abraham, and they belted out praise, the sound waves of which must have absolutely flattened the shepherds. To their credit, they didn’t hesitate in going to see if the gospel was true: had Abraham’s promised offspring really come?

And I think of John 1 now, who said the following of Jesus: “In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, and countless others did get to see actual light, maybe even touch it. Inevitably, whenever I crawl out from underneath that tree, I can't help but bump into the lights, and I wish I could grasp light, to wrap it up in my fist and call it “mine,” even if just for a moment. But that is precisely the good news. I can hold the light. Actually, I can be the light. For in joining my life to that of Jesus, the offspring through whom all the nations of the earth would be blessed, I become one of those stars of promise that Abraham saw and which the darkness will not be able to put out. That’s what I think of even now as I look up at the sky in anticipation, in advent.

Not quite "under" the tree, but I do love our Middle School Student Center decorations this year.

Second half of November

 You guys, I've been having way too much fun these weeks with guests and Christmas banquets and International Chapel, that I didn't get a blog written. Enjoy these pictures.