Prison Church

Tonight my small house church did not meet at one of our member's houses.  We did not dine on yummy lasagna or tacos or share a dessert and coffee like we normally do.  We did not spend an hour or so talking about how we think we might be able to "serve" in the community.  We did not take turns telling each other about our week- carefully shielding the things that happened to us so that we are not too vulnerable in that limited time period.  We did not sit on the well-cleaned carpet of an upper middle class white family.

We had church in a prison.

There were nine of us- roughly half of our normal attendance-- all white and privileged and a little nervous.  Julie and I were the only ones who had never been to a prison church service before and the inmates let us know that they knew.  Our eyes were probably really wide.

As we made our way past the metal detector and the first series of locked gates and barbed wire fences, the thought crossed my mind: why am I here?  I don't have to be.  Nobody else here wants to be here.  What do you hope to prove to these people?  What do you hope to gain from this?  Who do you think you are??

We were guided out into the Courtyard where the roughly 1,700 inmates were casually milling about- talking, laughing, watching, and waiting.  They eyed us up quick as we shuffled towards the designated "church" room.  There we were greeted by a couple friendly inmates-clad in tan jackets or sweatshirts.  They didn't seem real chatty- just pleasant and helpful.  I was shocked to find expensive instruments (drums, guitars, keyboards- a full band's worth) high tech sound equipment and visual aids.  The ushers began to set up around 200 chairs and as we helped them I had this thought: "there's no way that 200 people from this medium/high security facility are going to want to come to a silly church service."

Boy was I wrong.

By 6:35 that place was PACKED.  Men were greeting one another with smiles and hugs, friendly banter and some tears.  Tattoo-ridden convicts with names stitched into their clothing were "giving peace" to one another without a second thought.  We engaged them as best we could with conversation about where we were from, what church looked like for us, and if they had kids and how old... I was overjoyed at how easy it was to just strike up a conversation with anybody- and how open and honest they were about themselves and their situation.

The Chaplain, Luke, called the service to order and played a few songs on his guitar while these men sang their fricken hearts out.  Some of them were even in the right key.

Next, our pastor, Megan, introduced herself and began to preach on how to respond to Jesus' call to "get up."  I gazed around the room at the predominantly black crowd of men in their mid-30s giving rapt attention to our mascara-clad white female pastor- who is still in her 20's.  I watched them nod their heads and mumble, "Amen!" and "Preach it" and "come on!" in the typical southern Pentecostal style.  Megan finished and a huge round of applause burst forth.  Some men stood. 

And then, as soon as it had begun, the service was over and we put away the chairs and were escorted out.

As we walked away from that prison I realize that although I was technically inside a correctional facility, I didn't walk through their cells.  I didn't have to experience being locked up and held against my will.  I didn't stand in that "church" room with my sins laid bare before me like everyone else.  I could hold my struggles and my sins tight to my chest- with the calm assurance that my secrets are safe.  I realize now that I was the coward in the room.

Before this I felt brave.  I felt that I was being so bold because I was volunteering to walk into a prison to share God's love with these poor incarcerated folk.  What was soon very apparent was that all my bravery meant shit.  These men were the ones who were brave.  These men were the ones who accepted their position and sentence and instead of being bitter at God and men and the world- they were rejoicing and celebrating together that God loved them and that although they were not perfect, they were still going to try their hardest to make him proud.  I should have known that God's love was already there.  I should have known that God's Spirit was already moving amongst the believers.  I should have known that my tiny little world of who I think God is and who is great in His Kingdom would be shattered... but I didn't.  Instead I was pleasantly humiliated and made some great friends.

God will love me when I am cowardly enough to think that I am being extra holy by visiting men in prison- and he will love me when I am brave enough to one day shake hands with a total stranger and tell them my sins even when they do not ask.  God cannot be any more perfect than He is.  This was a good reminder to me of that.  

I hope we are allowed to come back soon.  I hope that I can hear more about my new friends Mike, Saunders, Armstrong, and Roger- how they came to know God and how they can have hope in a place like prison.  I hope to learn more about humility and miracles and punishment- the twisted world of a cold and sterile environment that houses a subculture of brave, broken men seeking after Christ's heart.

Birthday thoughts

I'm so excited to be 28.  You don't even know.

:)

Perhaps I am at the peak of my humanity.  Perhaps my body is the healthiest it will ever be.  Perhaps my brain is the smartest it will ever be.  Perhaps I am as good as a person as I will ever be.

What a scary thought.  I find that with age, most of my understandings for who I am and what my environment is REALLY like has changed.  Quite drastically, in fact.

Marriage to such an awesome person has made me realize that I knew nothing of love before and I am only just barely starting to understand as it is.

Getting fired from a church that I was volunteering at has made me realize that "church politics" will always trump a "good heart" and will hurt more deeply than years of rejection from my secular peers.

Praying to God for Him to do what I want simply because I want it is next to blasphemy.  Accepting what God has given me to endure or enjoy is right living.

When Jesus said, "the last shall be first" he was not telling us that if we humble ourselves, we will get to be in 1st place again (how arrogant!)- he was merely letting us know where we stand.

Riches are, and will always be, in the ones you love and are loved by.  Sucks that Disney caught on to this and have been shovelling it down our throats for awhile, but truth is truth no matter who is saying it.

I'm glad to be alive.  I'm glad that I am in Durham.  I'm glad that my wife is my best friend and lets me hold her hand.  I'm glad we have two cute dogs and 4 chickens.  I'm glad that God manages to love me despite the fact that I am sometimes a jerkwad of a human being.  I'm glad for friends who are real and honest and patient.  I'm glad that my family and extended family is so fricken awesome.  I lucked out there.

Hell, I lucked out everywhere.   I gotta go hug someone.  :)

Easter Blasphemy

I'm sipping a cup of La Golondria from Counter Culture Coffee in the comfort of my home and bathrobe.  This coffee has a mellow front with a citrus twist and a clean finish.  God, I love coffee.

Speaking of God, it's Easter.  The "pagan" holiday that we Christians decided to adopt and make our most sacred celebration: the day Christ "conquered death."  Ready for today's dose of blasphemy?  Of course you are.

Throughout the course of recorded time, there have been reports of men and women coming back to life.  Sure, Christians like to pretend that Christ's triumphant return was the only really important one, but check out a couple of these situations:

The Egyptian god Osiris is said to have died and come back to life.  As well as Baal, Melqart, Adonis, Eshmun, and Dumuzi.

The ancient Greeks had the god Asciepius who was killed by mighty Zeus and then came back to life as a major deity.  Add to that Achilles, Agamemnon, and also a mortal, a 7th century sage named Aristeas of Proconnesus.

And let's not forget that within the Judaistic framework, there are resurrected folks.  Elijah raises a kid from death in 1 Kings.  EliSHa resurrects the son of a Shunammite woman (wonder what happened to these kids later in life...).  Later some dude's dead body is thrown onto the bones of Elisha and he is resurrected.  And lets not forget Lazarus- whom Jesus brought back to life just by telling him to.  The "Lazaras Syndrome" is a modern-day medical term for patients who have been reported as dead and have miraculously come back to life with no scientific explanation.  There have been at least 25 medical reports of this happening since 1982.

The point that I'm trying to make here is that the mysterious act of death and rebirth is not original in Christianity- nor does it really matter on this day.  The Bible was not written with Jesus' resurrection as the climax of the story.  GASP!

Christ did not "conquer death."  If he did, than all men and women after his resurrection would be immortal.  Death is still alive and kicking (couldn't resist).  Christ did, however, come back to life (like others before and after him) to show that death is negotiable, at times, and that the soul is real and will carry on after our bodies have quit.  Life is a cycle of death and rebirth as all naturalists will tell us.

Okay, Tim, so what the hell?  Are you saying Easter is meaningless?  Christ's resurrection is just ho-hum-okay?  Are you a total heathen?

No, but kind of.  Easter/spring season should for the Christian be a comforting reminder that the struggles and sorrows of winter are never permanent- that the pain of seeing Christ die as a blameless, upright human being will be erased by Him who knew no sin.  The poor tree that lost all of its leaves and beauty will fire back with flowering and fresh leaves like never before.  This is true of life in all major religions because it is how we relate to the earth that we live upon.

Christ tried to communicate this truth to his disciples before he was crucified (see Matthew 20, Mark 10, and Luke 18).  Jesus knew that his followers would struggle with this concept because we like to make things definitive-- black or white.  But the Creator has not made the life/death cycle so easy for us to make these snap judgments.

What is true, on Easter, as it is true in every culture in every solar system that can produce and sustain life is this, captured in Jeff Goldblum's brilliant line from Jurassic Park:

Life will find a way.

Even if that means that death must happen- life will return- GOOD will return- and a new dawn is the most holiest of representations of how our God will love us (the collective us) so much that he will allow and arrange deaths to occur so that we may experience a new life like we have never experienced before.

Those who would reject this "not religious enough" sentiment will do as Peter did before the resurrection- they will deny Christ and they will try to force the way of the Divine to function under their own set of foolish principles to which Christ will say warmly, "Get behind me, Satan" (Mark 8:31-33).

I see men and women try to work themselves up into a frenzy over Christ's death by creating such dramatic representations of it in cinema and theater.  Perhaps our time, money, and efforts would be better spent in observing and preserving the growth and circle of life and love on this planet- physically expressing our thanks to our Creator for the gift of death and rebirth for all of us.

Think about it.
-Tim