Yelling with Strangers: The Magic of New Year's Eve

New Year's Eve

I guess I could have stayed home last year/night and welcomed the New Year in solitude and contemplation; but that probably wouldn’t have been what happened.

I would have either A. fallen asleep before midnight because I worked nine hours at the USPS or B. watched the New Year’s Eve celebrations on TV and lamented my singleness. You know, because television and movies tell us something magical should happen on New Year's Eve.

Instead I contacted my friend Jessica, we put on cute festive dresses and we went out; first to dinner at Zeus Cafe where my friend Lori was serving for the evening and then to the Boiler Room for Karaoke. And that’s when it got weird. Not the normal partying with Teletubbies, Care Bears, Elvis Impersonators and Nearly Nudes Portland weird, (which I’ve done and can totally handle) but frat party karaoke weird.

I’ve done a decent bit of karaoke in this town and never encountered a crowd such as this. I’ve also never been hit on with such frequent ferociousness, either.

It started with Polish Matt whose actual name is much more European, as he said...repeatedly.  It ended two hours and six dudes later with Jordan who insisted he wasn’t hitting on us just before he and Jess got into a conversation about Jesus. Well, Jordan wanted to talk about sex. We did not.

Towards the end of the conversation he asked what else he needed to know. Jess said she didn’t know if it was strange to talk about this in a bar and then Jordan tried to launch into monologue on the weird sexual positions he prefers. In a successful attempt to redirect the conversation, I asked him what part of town he lived in.

What I wish I would have said was that what he needed to know, in addition to Jesus being a real person who once lived, as Jordan said, is that, “As crazy as it sounds, Jesus is a being with whom Jess and I both have real relationships. We believe that Jesus knows us, loves us, and gives us peace. You called us wildcards, because you couldn’t tell what we were about; what we were after. You were right, Jordan.  Unlike many people we observe in this bar tonight, we aren’t desperately trying to fill our lives with people or things that we hope will provide us with significance.

“Jordan you talked about not being able to really connect with anyone ever and that even though you came here with a group of friends, you don’t really know them and that’s why you’re chatting up two wildcards on the wall who have been observing it all. That has to be lonely. I hope that in 2014 you find peace, you find trust, and you find love...in Jesus…as crazy as it seems.”

But I didn’t and soon Jordan walked away and I told Jess that even though I had cooked up this plan, I REALLY didn’t want to ring in the New Year in this place and I’d rather walk to Pioneer Square in the freezing cold and see if other strangers had randomly assembled there. We left during the frat party-est version of Afternoon Delight, walked past women hula-ing electric neon hoops in Old Town and arrived with thousands of others at the square at 11:45 pm.

There was no program, no plan, no official countdown; we were all just drawn to the square, to the tree, to connection. At five minutes ‘til, a roar rose in the crowd. There I stood, with a good friend, in a crowd of strangers joyfully anticipating the future, shouting with glee over the possibilities. It was a good place to be; sorta magical, really.

They say what you’re doing at midnight is what you’ll do all year. This year, I can really get behind that.

Thanks For Being Lost

Sorry I haven’t written in a while, I’ve been lost.

When I started delivering mail for the USPS I spent a few weeks in a super hilly, sorta windy road, neighborhood. I was lost a lot. On the first day, in the middle of a neighborhood, around one in the afternoon, I stopped and yelled, “JESUS! I DON’T LIKE THIS!” And then, after a bit, "Help me. Please."

I don’t like not knowing where I am. I don’t like not knowing where I’m going. I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control/charge of my life.

A couple of weeks later it was Sukkot and in this same predominately Jewish neighborhood many of the families built Sukkahs in their driveways. 

I went home and pulled out my copy of Girl Meets God, the reason I know about this at all, and re-read what Lauren Winner, a woman who wrote about her journey from Judaism to Christianity, said about the holiday.

“On Sukkot, Jewish families each build a hut, a sukkah, to remind themselves of the sukkot the Jews inhabited while they camped in the desert for forty years…Today, the sukkah you would build might be an eight-foot cube, made from plywood held together with twine. You cover the roof with greenery (the covering is called schach, and it should be translucent enough to let in starlight) and invite neighborhood children to hang drawings on the walls. You eat all your meals in the sukkah, and drink all your drinks, and sometimes even sleep there. I miss Sukkot because it is while sitting in the sukkah that you learn lessons about dependence on God, that even the walls of your brick house are flimsy. The trick is to grab hold of those sukkah lessons and remember them once you’ve taken apart your shaky hut and resumed eating you meals in the spacious kitchen of your four-walled spilt-level.”

For the next week, I was constantly reminded that while the Jews wandered around mostly aimlessly, behind a CLOUD, with their life paths completely out of their control, for 40 YEARS, God provided food, water and shelter and sandals that didn’t wear out. So, I’m sure God can handle my current wanderings, both literally and metaphorical.

And I find peace in this, that is, when I remember. But that’s why God created Sukkot, so that we would remember. He knows we forget, so, in his infinite wisdom, he instituted an eight day feasting celebration with space and time to remember and then give thanks to the God who provides, both then and now.

Christians don’t typically celebrate Sukkot, most probably have never heard of it.Two of the other Feasts, Passover and Pentecost, seem to get more play, probably because of perceived closer ties to the story of Jesus. However, back in Jesus' day, this Feast was THE BIGGEST deal. And once on the final and climatic day, Jesus made this bold proclamation, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Rivers of living water will brim and spill out of the depths of anyone who believes in me this way, just as the Scripture says.” I think after seven days of living in booths recalling the old stories of desert life, hearing about living water would have been a PRETTY big deal.

Most days I forget that I not only have access to this fount of awesomeness but that it is in fact in me. When I remember, and ask Jesus for help or give thanks, I know I can feel a surge of life.

So, this year, I’m looking forward to Thursday’s celebration of thanks. Thanksgiving, it’s a pretty big deal.

Read more in Leviticus 23, Deuteronomy 16 and John 7.

Living is Hard: Podcast on Traversing Transition, Climbing Mount St. Helens and Loving People.

Mt. Adams as seen from Mt. St. Helens ~ August 2013

Normally, I would have written out a blog post about my climbing Mt. St. Helens and it applications to EVERY ASPECT OF MY LIFE, instead, thanks to technology and friends who wield it, I am sharing this story audibly.


 To listen, click here: The Groves - August 25th, 2013 

This podcast also includes some additional thoughts about God and love and life that I was given the opportunity to share with my friends at The Groves.

Trust in Transition

Two years ago I decided to actually fully trust Jesus with my WHOLE life. Like for real. I mean, I’ve been a follower of Jesus since I was a wee lass. And that choice was real and life altering and such, but as I grew up, so did our relationship. We had some rocky times in college (who doesn’t) and then just about 10 years ago I moved 3,000 miles from everything I had ever known and I thought “Jesus, I totally trust you. You’ve got this.”

But what I realized a little bit over two years ago is that I didn’t really believe that. Or to put it more precisely, the aforementioned “this” was a small portion of my tiny life. Things happened in my formative years that made me believe that no one, not my family and certainly not God, would ever be able to TRULY protect me or take care of me, so young 6ish Alyssa set out in life to take care of herself. And super independent Alyssa did a fairly kick-ass job, if I do say so myself. By most measures, I was indeed successful.

But then, just about the time I turned 30, Jesus and I decided it was time I learned some lessons in dependency. God revealed to me this HUGE section of my life that I hadn’t handed over. Like pretty much my entire lively hood. I didn’t trust him to provide for me, to take care of me, to feed and clothe and shelter me. You know all the things a decent parent does.

I was single and alone in the world. But, God, the persistent deity that he is, stopped letting me wallow it the dark stone fortress of solitude I had carefully crafted for myself and together we busted down some carefully constructed make-believe walls and walked out into the wide-open spaciousness of grace.

And then, Jesus asked if I really loved him and I said yes and he said, feed my sheep. And I said cool and once again began full time campus ministry this time supporting myself solely on the gifts of other people; on the gifts of God.

I REALLY wanted this story to turn out AWESOME and be able to say that every month I made my budget plus because that’s how rad God is…um yeah, but no. Turns out I FAIL at support raising and in spite of me, every month, I paid my rent and didn’t go hungry but I didn’t make my budget and now I have DEBT for the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE!!! Wait, I’m OK, it’s cool, spacious place, spacious place.

And truly it really is cool because I finally began to feel that peace that Jesus always talked about. Back when I had a savings account and an excellent corporate job, (not that there is anything wrong with that) I didn’t feel it. But oddly now, out at the end of all of my ropes, I feel I can let go and KNOW that God will catch me.

Over the last two years, I was given a life full of space and time to share generously. I’ve been honored to be a part of so many people’s stories; to experience the joys of their existences, to sit with them in the depths of their sorrows and to contribute in the healing of their lives.

It has been incredible. The story has turned out fairly awesome.

And now God has asked me to transition on. I’m not sure where to, but I know that come September One I won’t be doing what I have been doing anymore.

I’m not moving out of downtown Portland, or leaving my church community at The Groves. I will, however, no longer be raising my own support or doing full time ministry. I WILL NOT stop loving this neighborhood, nor the people in it. I’ll just be doing it in a different way.

In my good moments, I’m super excited about this; finally feeling that adventurous expectancy I’m constantly going on about. In my less frequent weak moments I FREAK out and wonder what I’ve done with the past 3 years of my life.

Hey, this trusting thing is still relatively new, I’m working on it.

This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?" God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what's coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! We go through exactly what Christ goes through. If we go through the hard times with him, then we're certainly going to go through the good times with him! ~Romans 8:15 The Message

So if you’ve read this and feel inclined to help a sister out, here’s some things you can do:

• Pray for me. It’s hard out here for a single Jesus lover. At the end of the day it’s just me and God and that’s cool and all but sometimes it’s a struggle.
• Leave an encouraging comment. I like words, A LOT, especially affirming ones. Or write me an email or send a card.
• Share some money love. Seriously, this debt thing is no joke. Until September 1 you can support me through my position with PayPal online:
• Go to: http://thegroveschurch.com/give/
• Click the Donate button.
• Then write PSU Position in the special instructions section.

• Or with check by mail:

The Groves Church
PMB #434
5331 SW Macadam Ave. Ste 258
Portland, OR 97239
Write PSU Position in the memo line.

HUGE THANK YOU to all the friends and family who have supported me in various ways over the last 2 years. I LOVE YOU!

Lessons of Love: Start with a Smile

Downtown Portland is filled with people who want something from you. 

They want your name on a petition, they want you to buy their new product, they want you to sign-up to support an international child or an environmental cause, they want your money for a Tri-Met pass, dog food, beer, weed, human food, a hostel, etc., or they want you to repent and follow their Jesus who hates a long list of people groups they have proudly printed on their sandwich boards and canvas signs. 

Residents of this economically diverse neighborhood will encounter at minimum three requests a day for something from them. Consequently, residents of this neighborhood don’t look up. They don’t make eye contact. They don’t engage with one another.

Sometimes this is because they feel guilty that they can’t solve all of the problems of the people they encounter. Sometimes it’s because they are tired of being bothered and would like to simply go to work and return home without multiple strangers nagging them.

Whatever the reason, the majority of the 20,000 people in the blocks north of Burnside and south of the 405 return home to single occupancy dwellings with feelings of isolation and numbness.
 

Many earn decent livings and unlike their neighbors on the street who hear about the story and experience the love of Jesus at almost every free meal or night-time necessity give-away, these members of the middle-class mass go about their day mostly unnoticed.

This isolation leads to feelings of worthlessness and insecurity. Insecure people don’t smile or greet other people and if you don't greet people, you don't meet people and you feel alone and isolated. It's a vicious cycle. Emotionally, it’s sometimes hard to live here in the tall buildings where no one knows your name. It’s hard even to smile here. Being one of those single occupancy dwellers myself, I really get it.

Yet, every day when I leave my apartment, I try to smile at everyone I meet. About 25% smile back. Most don’t make eye contact and the faces of ones that do show an obvious struggle with comprehending what just happened. It’s as if their brains are processing this human interaction for the first time. The first time a human has given them a kindness with no desire for reciprocity.

I’ve been a part of this neighborhood for almost 10 years and it makes my heart hurt seeing so many people unable to accept this gift of love when it comes to them freely. This gift of love is from my Jesus, the one who doesn’t hate anyone, but instead loves everyone with an everlasting, extravagant, pure love. A love that says you are not forgotten, you are not abandoned, you are not alone.

Over these 10 years I’ve volunteered with various organizations focused on reaching out to the students at Portland State University, a campus centered in this neighborhood. I’ve had students tell me they go entire days and never have a conversation with a single person. They don’t know their classmates; they don’t know the person who sits next to them on the park bench or the bus seat. They don’t say, “Hello” or smile, mostly because when they have in the past, the recipient has seized that openness as an opportunity to ask them for something.

My friends and I have tried to find ways of letting students and other members of this neighborhood know that they are loved freely and without condition. For a couple of years we gave away free hot chocolate one day a week and had a giant picnic with grilled meat and veggie burgers one day a year. This year at the end of each university term we gathered donations and created fun packs filled with snacks and other items for finals. Students take one for themselves and four more for friends in their classes. I take the left over packs and give them away as I walk around campus.

Honestly, the 30 kits we create are a drop in the bucket compared to the 30,000 students that go to this school but to the 30 students who get them they mean a great deal. One extremely grateful student said that this was the first random act of kindness she had ever received.

Walking down SW Broadway I smiled at two students wished them good luck on their finals and handed them fun packs. They grudgingly took the packs and looked inside them as they continued down the sidewalk. From a full block away, these men turned around and enthusiastically yelled, “Thank you so much! This is awesome!”

In a neighborhood where people standing beside you won’t smile, these two, having received a gift with no strings attached, turned and yelled their thanks from a block away.

Living downtown one often hears yelling from blocks away but it’s usually angry and full of profanity. Never is the yelling full of joy and gratitude. As an example, a couple of years ago while walking past the food carts on SW 10th Avenue a woman turned around and began yelling at me, letting me know that she was going to F$%^#  kill me for what I did to her in prison. To be clear, I have NEVER been to prison, nor have I ever met this woman before.

I looked her in the eye, smiled, and said, “OK,” then I walked away in prayer that all her hurts would be healed and that someone more trained than I would come and help her.

This is where I live, among tall buildings filled with other beggars, yellers and avoiders, learning a never ending lesson of love.

And I practice that lesson every day as I walk the city blocks with my head up, looking people in the eye, smiling a smile that tries to say, “I see you. You matter. I don’t want anything from you, but I do want you to be truly happy, I do want you to know pure, good love. Please accept this gift and have a fabulous day.”

I realize that’s a lot to convey in one smile, but I think it’s a good start.

“Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.”
― Mother Teresa

From Creepy to Etsy: Some Thoughts on Revelation

Personalized Dress Hanger from Etsy ~ May 2013

The book of Revelation use to seriously freak me out.

A. The imagery can be sorta creepy.
B. I really don’t understand what is happening in parts of it.And I'm not so sure I want to.

However, there are some parts I can really get behind. Like the section where Jesus introduces himself to each church. It is unique and personal to each community as if he is saying, “This is how YOU know me, this is your UNIQUE relationship with me.” And he does know them; he calls them out on the specifics of what each is doing right and on what each is doing wrong.

I imagine each church lined up in a row and as Jesus walks down the row, he takes each one by the shoulders and speaks as both friend and authority all in one. “Hey, Ephesus, you know me. You know that I’m the One who takes care of all things, who holds you in my hands. You know how I walk and move among you and our other friends. You. Know. Me. And I know you. So, I want to tell you something, you are doing good stuff. Yeah, I really like it. But…don’t forget me. I love you. Do you still love me? You’re doing a lot of stuff. Make sure that this stuff you do, is done out of love for me. Be with me first; LOVE me first and above everything else.”*

He continues this stroll and speaks to each church about both their good and their bad choices

And to the last he says, “Philly, you are newer here, but I don’t love you any less. We are just beginning. Remember that I hold all the possibilities. I know it can be overwhelming, but I will take care of it. I will take care of you. I can open and shut doors as needed to guide you into the right ones. I know you are weak, but you still stood strong. I’m proud of you. Now stay strong. I know you are being bullied, but don’t you worry. They will receive their comeuppance and then everyone will know how much I love you.”*

Jesus was telling each church to love God, themselves and their neighbors in ways that were unique and best suited for them in their particular circumstances. I think this is true for us as individuals, too. Just as Jesus acknowledges and encourages each church’s different strengths, Jesus acknowledges and encourages each of our different strengths. That is, when we take time to listen to him and let him do so. 

Just as Jesus, out of love and desire for the good and best, calls the churches out on their individual poor choices, Jesus calls out our individual poor choices, but here again, we have to listen. 

Jesus understands/ knows/gets each of us waaaaay better than we understand/know/get ourselves and he wants to share this knowledge with each of us to help each of us in unique and personalized ways. Jesus is not offering mass-produced assembly line solutions. He’s creating hand-made quality goods. Turns out, Jesus is less big-box, more Etsy.  So that's cool and not creepy at all.

*Loose paraphrases of Revelation 2:1-7 and 3:7-13 mostly based on The Message and The Voice translations with dashes of NIV.

Promising Possibilities

In John's first letter to the new followers of Jesus he writes, "Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known."

How promising is this?! Oh, the possibilities! I am fairly certain we don’t ever fully grasp what an absolutely incredible promise this is. Most probably because we don’t fully grasp who God is.

God created everything.

God has the power to control everything.

God knows everything.

God, like an good parent, wants the best for his children.

Now, we as humans are certainly not the best gauges of what is best. Sometimes we even fail at being good gauges of what is adequate. I think this is the root of much of our discontent. Knowing that we are created in God's image, we prefer to see ourselves as mini-gods, able to judge and discern what is right and best, instead of how God sees us, as children who need to be guided into making proper choices. To be clear, we are children God LOVES beyond all measure and would do most anything to ensure we receive what is in our best interests (see: sending Jesus as a sacrifice for our poor choices, etc.)

So, God sometimes doesn’t allow our lives to play out the way we imagine or desire. Sometimes that’s because the desires of children can be their ruin.

A few Sundays ago, while I working with the kids during worship, I asked them to name the one thing they would want in the whole wide world. One said a robot, another a super fancy car (I mean super fancy with a name I have never heard of) and another, with a twinkle in her eye, wanted the entire building we were sitting in to be made of chocolate. The rest of the children completely rallied around this idea.

Children don’t make the best choices. And the truth is, neither do adults.

It's comforting to me to know that with all of the choices I have already made and all the paths I have already taken, what I will ultimately be is not yet known. Because I am God’s child, my future is still full of promising possibilities.

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! ~ 1 John 3:1

Different but Equal

A Pansy among Impatiens ~ Portland, Ore. ~ August 2011

You and I are different. That’s for certain. We grew up in different places. We watch different TV shows. We listen to different music. But we are equal. We are equal because each of us has made poor choices and in doing so has failed at loving God, other people, and ourselves well.

I am sassy and stubborn and I seriously struggle with dependence on God alone. I make poor choices. My poor choices hurt people, they hurt me. Your poor choices do the same. Our choices are different but our need to be forgiven makes us equal.

Not a single one of us has it all together. And we never will. We will still be human, no matter our age.

I say this to level the field. I say this to free us from the compulsion of projecting ourselves as false pictures of perfection. I say this to free us from constantly looking to other people for comparison. I say this with the hope that this freedom will enable us, as broken beings in desperate need of God’s healing and grace through Jesus, to come to God.

A little over a year ago I went to The Justice Conference in Portland where someone spoke of justice as being the equalization of all people.

What if we lived with the realization that we are all indeed equal but all drastically different?
What if we admitted to and owned those differences?
What if we talked about those differences without ranking them?
What if this honest communication helps us grow in knowledge and confidence of our true individual identities?


Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don't be impressed with yourself. Don't compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.
~ Paul’s letter to the Galatians The Message Chapter 6:4-5

When Love Looks Ridiculous

University Place Hotel ~ March 2013

 “There are elements of the ridiculous about you…” ~ Mark Darcy in Bridget Jones’s Diary

On an open suitcase filled with 40 brown paper bags hangs a hastily handmade sign stating, “Finals Survival Kits” in the hallway outside a meeting room in a hotel in downtown Portland. My life is a little ridiculous. Hours of work and a surprising amount of struggle have resulted in this strange tableau.

Once a term we collect donations from members of The Groves Community to create these kits, these small brown paper sacks filled with exam supplies, pencils, candy, granola bars and cracker and fruit snacks. After I purchase the supplies based on revenue collected, we gather to assemble the kits. Students pick them up on the following Sunday to hand out to their friends during class the week before finals. This is our tangible way to share God’s love with the students in our neighborhood of downtown Portland. Well, this time 40 out of the 30,000 students.

And now, as I stand in a worship service singing about the sacrifice Jesus made for me, I think of how tiny and ridiculous this offering in the hallway outside is in comparison. I think about my personal experience with God’s beautiful, gracious, expansive love and am a bit ashamed of my pathetic offering. All the while I am acutely aware of the great amount of time, effort and love that went into it.

I am humbled.

For a moment I understand what the scriptures mean when I read that all of our offerings are like filthy rags, or when Isaiah proclaims that he is a man unfit to be in God’s presence and for that moment I am thankful to be so poor and terminally in transition because these limitations free me to see my humanity, my utter weakness and my insufficiency so clearly.

If I worked in a larger church, one that perhaps had a building and a budget for student ministry that includes not only an actual livable wage but also resources for this kind of project, the presentation and completion of this project would look entirely different. It would be super slick and with a fancy logo on boxes and banners all presented on a table decorated appropriately.

I would not have to wait and see what resources are given to this specific project by generous church members and then spend hours calculating how to get the largest impact out of a smallish budget and I wouldn’t have to figure out how to transfer kits back and forth via mass transit or my feet from my apartment across campus to the room we use half a mile away in the on-campus hotel.

The project would look pretty and require less sacrifice and I would look at it and think about how great we are and about this swell thing we are doing for students and how God will use it for his good.

Instead, I look at it and think about how God had to move us and provide for us in every step and the result is sitting on the floor in a hallway in a suitcase with a paper sign.

Then I think about how much students really do appreciate this gift. About how exited they were to get them at the end of Fall Term. The students receiving these kits were unfazed by the simple plain packaging and are instead surprised and swell with love at this gift of love without condition.

It's interesting how closely this act parallels God’s gift of love through Jesus; the simplest of circumstances providing the most extravagant gift of love and humanity’s hesitation, apprehension and just plain resistance to receive this gift.

When I hand out kits, I realize how starved for love we all really are because, honestly, this kit is one of the smallest tokens of God’s affection. We really do accept the love we think we deserve and we are people in need of genuine love. We need truth and light to break through the lies and darkness that inhabit our souls enabling us to begin the process of being able to accept the abundance of love that God desires to give us.

And I think about what Jesus said, “This is large work I’ve called you into, but don’t be overwhelmed by it. It’s best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won’t lose out on a thing.” (excerpt of Matthew 10:40-42 MSG)

Jesus: Lonely Like Me

The Great Salt Lake ~ September 2011

In Still: Notes on a Mid-faith Crisis, Lauren F. Winner talks about her faith being somewhere in the middle; not in the excitement of her conversion but in the numb monotony of the middle. In one section she is reading her Bible in an art museum and she writes what she thought at that time:

“The story ends with Luke’s telling us that Jesus often withdrew to lonely places to pray. ‘A little like escaping to the quiet of a museum,’ I think. What can it mean for a place to be lonely?
‘A place, lonely like Jesus? Lonely like me?
Maybe I can make my loneliness into an invitation – to Jesus – that he might withdraw into me and pray.’” (page 141)

I have been thinking a good deal about Jesus’ loneliness. About how often he was misunderstood, even by his best friends. Around that time I read chapters 14 through 17 of Matthew and was struck once again at how hurtful it must have been for Jesus to be constantly misunderstood. I reflected at how hurt and lonely I felt after being misunderstood one day last Spring. So much so that I was perhaps too brazen crossing busy intersections because at that moment of pain I really didn’t care what happened to me.These four chapters of Matthew begin with Jesus trying to retreat to a lonely place, perhaps to grieve the loss of his friend and cousin John the Baptizer. Soon, though, people found him. Jesus took pity, healed them and then fed the over 5,000 with five loaves of bread and two fish.

Jesus finally does get that retreat with God and afterwards walks on water to a boat where the disciples were experiencing strong winds and waves. This is where Peter walks out in faith toward Jesus, then remembers the harsh wind and the waves around him and falters.

A little bit later Jesus feeds another 4,000 people this time with seven loaves of bread and a few fish. Soon after Jesus warns folks about the yeast of the Pharisees. The disciples, misunderstanding Jesus, thought he was scolding them for forgetting bread for their trip. This is how I translate what Jesus says in Matthew 16, “Seriously. You think I’m worried about bread? I just feed over 5,000 people, twice, with one person’s sack lunch. Come On! This isn’t about bread. It’s about gross false teaching.”

Just after this Peter answers wisely when Jesus asks, “Who do you say I am?” Peter got it! “You are the Christ, the son of the living God.” But quickly forgets and falters once again. And then there is the transfiguration. I really love what Oswald Chambers wrote about this in the June 16 entry of My Utmost for His Highest, a reflection on John 15:13.

“It is far easier to die than lay down the life day in and day out with the sense of the high calling. We are not made for brilliant moments, but we have to walk in the light of them in ordinary ways. There was only one brilliant moment in the life of Jesus and that was on the Mount of Transfiguration; then He emptied Himself the second time of His glory, and came down into the demon-possessed valley. For thirty-three years Jesus laid out His life to do the will of His Father , and John says, ‘we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.’ It is contrary to human nature to do it.”

To me the remarkable thing about Jesus is not that he died a cruel, painful, death, it’s that he LIVED 33 years among people who truly never really got him. And he didn’t give up on them. Jesus kept on loving them even when they exasperated him; even when they made him sad or forced him to shout. He was patient with them. He was kind. He endured. He never failed.

He retreated and found his alone time with God, the one who created him, the one who KNEW him and he LIVED.

Long before his brutal death on a cross Jesus tells his followers to take up their crosses and follow him. This imagery evoked was of a prisoner on a march to his death. We are all prisoners marching toward death; prisoners to our pride, to our self-serving choices, to our independence, to our greed, to our lust and to so much more. Jesus knows this and yet he continually asks us to follow him. Jesus knows about our struggles; knows what it is to be lonely and he asks us to follow him, he asks us to LIVE.

Remembering That I Forget

My Christmas Tree ~ Portland, Oregon 2012

I live in that magical land where Christmas trees grow. Oregon is the nation’s biggest producer of Christmas trees and harvested over 6 million in 2011 and , sadly, I did not purchase one of them. Last year, I thought I was broke and would be gone too long in December to purchase a tree. This year I have a whole new appreciation for broke-ness and will be away from my home for a week but I am not letting this deter me.  My friend Belinda, a graduate student at Portland State, offered to drive me to a Christmas tree farm just outside the city to pick up a tree and to celebrate the completion of her finals.

As soon as I stepped out of the vehicle and onto the parking lot, I knew I made the right decision. The smell of Fir trees enveloped me and I shouted, “I LOVE CHRISTMAS TREES!” Thankfully it was a rainy Tuesday afternoon and no one else was around.

Belinda and I set out in search of this year’s perfect tree. When I first saw my tree, I impulsively burst into, “O Tannenbaum!” However, not wanting to make a hasty choice, I tied a bright red bag to a branch and walked on. Eventually after much deliberation, I chose the tree that inspired my song.

I spent the better part of a day decorating this tree; mostly because I’m a perfectionist but also because I’m sentimental. As I unwrapped ornaments that had been unfairly confined for two years, vivid memories flooded my consciousness and I remembered the refrain from a song we sang during worship service on Sunday:

Though the world may see and soon forget
We will not forget who you are and what you’ve done for us.

But do we? Do we really remember? I believe that humanity as a whole is fairly forgetful and this is why God instructs us in all sorts of reminders like the celebration of Passover, hauling rocks from the dry bottom of the Jordan River to create an altar and participation in communion. These acts remind us of what God has done and reinforce for us the promises of what God will do.

This year, decorating my Christmas tree, was one of those reminders. As I hung up the lights, circled the tree with a garland made of old silver Mardi Gras beads and placed ornaments on branches, I could not help but to recall specific things God has done for me and as I remembered I began to feel joyful anticipation for all of the things God is going to do. This, my friends, is worshiping fully.

Walk In Love

Red Square ~ Moscow, Russia ~ March 2008

I really love John’s second book. When I was at my lowest, this book helped me claw my way back up. Consequently I’ve probably read this book a good deal more than any other in the bible.

Back in 2010 I was in desperate need of divine direction, so I dove back into to it and was struck by the second half of verse six:

 “…his (Jesus) command is that you walk in love.”

So, yeah, that is easy, walk in love, right, right.  Yet, “Walk In Love” is a way more positive credo than “Meets – It’s Where It’s At” which is what I had taken out of 2008‘s closet and dusted off special for 2010.

This salute to the uninspired is rooted in the annual review structure at my first HR job. Getting a ‘meets’ meant you were doing just enough, you weren’t ‘exceptional,’ but you weren’t ‘needs improvement’ either. Meets was mediocrity at its best. I’ve lived most of my life in the exceptional range, but toward the end of 2007 I was questioning why and wondering where it had gotten me. I decided that maybe meets was where it was at. Less expectation meant less let down, less heartbreak and my young little heart felt it had had its share. I resolved that in 2008 I was going to lower my expectations and reap the mediocre benefits.

That year turned out to not be a “meets” kind of year so the salute didn’t get a lot of play. Therefore, I felt it was still pretty fresh and ready for a new release in 2010.

But then on that day in February in 2010, I decided, instead, to go with God and walk in love.

There is no promise of destination in this new credo. No direction other than to go and walk and while doing so, love. He is not asking me to perform a miracle or do anything extraordinary, but to obey him in love.

Oswald Chambers wrote, “It is inbred in us that we have to do exceptional things for God; but we have not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things, to be holy in mean streets, among mean people and this is not learned in 5 minutes.”

Compared with the billions that have inhabited the earth the Bible only highlights a few people’s stories. There are people we never read about who pleased God by doing this extraordinary thing of living by faith in him – day in and day out. They milked cows and delivered their product to people while praising God for sun and rain. They strung telegraph cable across the county loving everyone they met. They built subdivision and lived gracious lives. They sat at a desk and entered information into spreadsheets and let God’s light shine through them even when they sometimes struggled to breathe.

They didn’t slay giants, or build ships that saved the animals of the world. They loved God and moved as he wanted them to. And through loving him they loved others and God was proclaimed throughout their blocks, streets, neighborhoods, cities, towns, states, countries, continents, hemispheres – the world. They were generous with their lives because God was generous with his leading; prompting others to be generous too. I think we want some huge event, some grand adventure or reckoning. But on the whole, for billions of people it just isn’t that way. God asks that we be faithful in everyday things, everyday.

God asks that we walk in love. Since that day in February, I have; or at least, I try to. 

Heavy Burdened

Katmandu, Nepal ~ June 2011

I had this one day, four months ago, that was completely refreshing to my soul. I think it was because I didn’t move out of duty or obligation or what I thought was right or expected of me. I moved out of he unforced rhythms of God’s grace. I moved out of the core of who I am.

This day reminded me of the lesson I learned over a year ago in Nepal - don’t think, just do. I think too much. Perhaps my planning and calculation is worry disguised in pretty dress.  This seems to be the lesson I refuse to learn, and yet, God continues to present it to me.

Coming back onto campus back in January I didn’t really have a plan. I felt like Joshua in Jericho except I was walking around the South Park Blocks in prayer and waiting for the Lord. If there is one word I’ve gotten from God over the last two terms it is, “wait.”

“Pray and wait for me, Alyssa. Move where I move you. Let go and be free to be. Move with my current; it is safe and gentle for you. Watch and see what happens when you move freely in me.” This doesn’t look like other ministries I’ve seen. But that is OK, it’s more than OK, it’s God and God is good.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on Religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” ~Jesus in Matthew 11:28-30 The Message

Jesus didn’t have a strict business model. He moved where he was led by God and did what needed to be done at the time. As Enoch did many years before, Jesus walked with God.

The Voice version records this passage this way:
“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Put My yoke upon your shoulders – it might appear heavy at first, but it is perfectly fitted to your curves. Learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble of heart. When you are yoked to Me, your weary souls will find rest. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.”

“…perfectly fitted to your curves.” How much do I LOVE this?!

I’m nothing but curves and it is incredible to think this task I’ve been given by Jesus is perfectly fitted for me.

Now if only my bras were.

Space and Time: One of the Reasons I do College Ministry

Almost 11 years ago I sat in the front of a car at the Lake Charles Boardwalk and officially ended a two-year relationship with the one man who has ever seriously considered marrying me.

It was one of the hardest decisions I ever made. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be loved that much by another man, but I knew that he and I weren’t best for each other. I made it holding on to a truth that the life I was currently living was not the one God wanted for me so I said no to this man and journeyed on with Jesus.

After 10 years and multiple relationships, I am nowhere closer to marrying my helper than I was then but I have had an amazing adventure.

It’s funny how big this one decision was/is still in my life. It shaped a lot of the woman I have become. I left that relationship through the faith that God wanted to give me something different, that God wanted to give me his best. I still believe this. This pivotal moment, this moment that set my life on a completely different course, happened in college. This has a lot to do with why college ministry means so much to me, why Portland State University has never left my heart.

During the fall term when I made this decision, there was a church and a retreat and, therefore, space and time for God to meet with me. Space and time for God to pull me aside and remind me of how much he loves me how much he cares for me and how much he is faithful.  To remind me how he never left and still wants to give me his best.

God moves people – sometimes we don’t have to do anything but be there. 

This is why I raise support for what I do. This is why I’m OK with barely paying my rent every month. I want to be there, to give students space and time to meet with God and continue on their journeys becoming the incredible men and women God created them to be.

Students helping students move in at Portland State ~ September 2012

“Don't overlook the obvious here, friends. With God, one day is as good as a thousand years, a thousand years as a day. God isn't late with his promise as some measure lateness. He is restraining himself on account of you, holding back the End because he doesn't want anyone lost. He's giving everyone space and time to change.” ~ 2 Peter 3:8-9 The Message

So you want to support my position:
1.Go to Give section of www.thegroveschurch.com
2.Click the Donate button to give online via PayPal
3.Write PSU Position in the special instructions section

PS: Today is the first day of classes for the Fall Term at Portland State. Go Viks!

A Life Story

Lazarus died.

Really, legitly died. Mary and Martha rightfully mourned his passing. They went through all the pain and grief of him dying so that “God’s son may be glorified through it.” (John 11:4)

Jesus allowed them to experience all that pain and hurt so that others may know him. Eventually Lazarus died again. And presumably Mary and Martha grieved again then, too.

In chapter 9 of John we meet a man who was blind since birth. He and his family suffered scorn, embarrassment and hardship because of this blindness and Jesus says, "this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.” (John 9:3)

That’s who our God is. This world, my life, is not my own. It’s not my movie, it’s not my show, it's not really my story. I play a part in a minor plot in God's gigantic story.

Even though it sometimes doesn’t look like it, ultimately God is showing compassion. He wants the whole world to receive his gift: life lived to its fullest through following Jesus. Everything that happens is in revelation to this truth. It’s not about me and my comfort or you and yours. It’s about God’s Glory. People suffer, I have suffered, but we can suffer with the hope that in the end, all may LIVE.

"The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." ~ Jesus in John chapter 10 verse 10.