When faced with the raw devastation of the earthquakes and tsunami in Japan, my words feel foolishly small.
The photos and videos of the destruction are utterly surreal. None, for me, more so than this one below. What begins as a seemingly harmless, ankle-deep flow of water quickly turns into a raging torrent, wiping out cars and even buildings:
Race, Politics, Family
Back in October, we went to see Mo’olelo Performing Arts Company’s production of Yellow Face, by David Henry Hwang — the Tony-award winning playwright behind M. Butterfly.
I’m a bit of a cultural Philistine, so I don’t make any claims to understand much about theater, but I really enjoyed this performance. Yellow Face is a semi-autobiographical, postmodern take on race, identity, family and artistic integrity. You can read a bit more from Mo’olelo here.
I appreciated David Henry Hwang’s use of humor throughout the play, given the intensely personal nature of the ground he was covering. Discussions about race, politics, family, art, etc. can quickly become glum affairs. The quick pace of the dialogue, the multimedia backdrop (see a few photos here), and the interweaving of fact and fiction held my attention throughout.
Yellow Face raises many important questions: How much of our identity (our “face”) do we choose? How do we understand race and identity in our ever-changing culture? Do our parents’ dreams eventually become ours?
As part of the Booksneeze program from Thomas Nelson, I received a copy of Richard Stearns’ book, The Hole in Our Gospel, for review.
In The Hole in Our Gospel, Richard Stearns describes his journey from corporate CEO to following Jesus into the poorest corners of the world. Stearns currently serves as president of World Vision US.
In the introduction, Stearns writes:
Being a follower of Jesus Christ requires much more than just having a personal and transforming relationship with God. It also entails a public and transforming relationship with the world. If your personal faith in Christ has no positive outward expression, then your faith – and mine – has a hole in it.
As part of the Booksneeze program from Thomas Nelson, I received a copy of Max Lucado’s book, Outlive Your Life, for review.
Our community has been using Outlive Your Life as a catalyst for discussion during our midweek gatherings. This book has been challenging us to become better expressions of God’s love for the world, particularly as we consider the daunting statistics about global poverty and injustice.
Outlive invites us to join in God’s work of redemption today:
God invites us to outlive our lives, not just in heaven, but here on earth. Let’s live our lives in such a way that the world will be glad we did.
This weekend, I was privileged to officiate my first wedding. While there was quite a bit of running around, it was a joy to watch two members of our community begin a new life together as a husband and wife in Christ.
In the chaotic run-up to the wedding, between setting up a projector in an outlet that, hopefully, wouldn’t catch fire, sound-checking the new system, locating lost candles and pins for the boutonnieres, a random church member stopped me for a quick conversation.
It went something like this:
Person: I know a friend of your family’s from back home.
Me: That’s great!
Person: I heard from them that you went to Wharton.
Me: Yes, that true.
Person: Well, my daughter graduated from there.
Me: That’s great!
Person: She graduated with a degree in finance. What was your major?
Me: Marketing.
Person: Oh, really? Then why don’t you have a job?
Me: My parents ask me that every time I talk to them.
Person: (Turns and walks away)
I suppose if I had a minute (or twenty), I would have spoken to her about the nature of vocation and calling, and that, while I don’t believe in the “professionalization” of ministry (i.e., let the paid professionals provide the religious goods & services to a passive consumer audience), I still believe being a pastor is a legitimate job. An awfully-paying job, but a legit job nonetheless.
I would have told her that it only becomes more difficult over time to realize what I sacrificed when I answered God’s call to go to seminary and enter vocational church ministry, and that – most of the time – I believe it is worth it, but I have a small panic attack every time I think of how we’ll pay for my daughter’s college education or the sting I feel when I realize we’ll most likely never own (or even be able to rent) a house.
I probably would want to tell her about how what seems small or insignificant looks like (and often feels like) failure, but that I’m convinced this is what it looks like to actually follow Jesus around, and that I want my significance to be found in joining God’s work of redemption in the world around me, not in owning more stuff (most of the time), and that I believe in the mission of God enough to hustle and scrap together what it takes to do this and still support my family.
It’s good to know I’m among friends in this journey.
headsparks* 