Why Did They Pass By?

Than’s asking questions. Lots of questions. Most of his questions are not worth repeating––and not only because he repeats them more than enough times. But recently he asked a question that I can’t get out of my head: “Why did they pass by?”

It was bedtime and, as we do each evening before bed, we read a story from one of his “Bibles.” This night we were reading the story of the Good Samaritan from My First Book About Jesus by Walter Wangerin. (I recommend it.)

As we were reading the story, Than asked a question that caught me off guard: “Why did they pass by?”

This is a question worth asking because it helps us identify with the antagonists of the story. In the way the story is so often told, we put ourselves in the the Good Samaritan’s sandals. We identify with the guy who did the right thing. That’s too bad. In this story we’re supposed to identify with the bad guys––the guys who were the best of the “good guys.” We’re supposed to ask ourselves, “Why did those ‘good’ guys pass by?”

Jesus tells this story as an answer to a question: “Who is my neighbor?” To answer this question, Jesus tells the story of a guy robbed and beaten and left for dead. After telling it, Jesus asks a question, “Who was the neighbor?”

The answer: not the guys you would expect. In this story, the good-guys become the bad-guys while the bad-guy turns out to be the good-guy. “Who was the neighbor?” Jesus implied answer is prophetic: “NOT YOU!”

But this answer doesn’t leave us in a lurch. On the contrary, it draws us to Jesus. If we’re not the “Good Samaritan” then we must ask ourselves Than’s question: “Why do I pass by?”

Why do I pass by? In this question we are confronted with a choice: we can pass by or we can draw near. In passing by we snub our nose not only at the person on the side of the road, but also at King Jesus.
-The King offers his blessing to the poor, hungry, and mourning.
-The King is welcomed whenever someone “welcomes one of these little children” in his name.
-The King is served whenever “one of the least of the brothers and sisters” are served.

But the kingdoms of the world have ransacked the powerless––leaving them poor and hungry, ignored and vulnerable, too dirty to even deserve a second look. It’s tragic, but too often we think that our passports are issued by these kingdoms.
-We curse the poor and hungry. (After all, they got themselves into this mess.)
-We ignore, abuse, or slaughter our children. (Or pretend we didn’t see it happen.)
-While worshipping celebrities, we ignore the homeless or treat our co-workers in ways we would never treat Jesus.

But it is in these simple and ignored places that the Kingdom of God crushes the kingdoms of the world.
-He’s already at work among the poor, hungry, and mourning.
-He promises to be present when we’re with children.
-And we serve Jesus himself when we serve the most “unimportant” people.

So we are left with the choice: will we pass the guy robbed and beaten and left for dead? We can pretend that we didn’t see or buy into the lie that we don’t have time or money or skills, but if we choose to draw near and be servant, then we choose to join the King. His authority to reign, after all, is a result of the definitive act of service.

For those with eyes to see, Than’s question cuts to the heart, “How could I possibly pass by?”

–––––
Father, without the eyes of Jesus we are blind to those on the side of the road. Without the boldness of Jesus, we are cowards––too pompous lower our nose or lift a finger. Without the forgiveness of Christ––through the sacrifice of the cross––we are unwilling to pay whatever cost for their well-being. Thank you for giving us eyes, courage, and grace. May we be faithful Kingdom-stewards of these good gifts. May we see your Kingdom as it breaks in at the sides of the road.

Than's Questions

Than, our 3 year old, has entered the stereotypical question-asking stage. This, coupled with his repeat-myself-until-someone-acknowledges-me stage, has pushed me into patience. (Note: The road to patience passes through the land of impatience…) A couple of weeks back, we spent the entire week teaching and rehearsing proper protocols for how to be heard:

“Dad, excuse me.”

“Than, please don’t repeat yourself.”

“I’m not going to answer that question.”

In contrast, the extent of the 15 month old’s communication is, at best, grunts and, at worst, grunts degenerating into screaming and pounding fits. But Than is not only able to communicate, he’s entered the world of curiosity. This curiosity can often wear my nerves. But lately I’ve tried to press into the constant questions and welcome them. Though this can be hard in the midst of

“Why aren’t we going outside?” (X5)

“Why can’t we have yogurt for dinner?” (X8)

“Why don’t we push our brother?” (X4)

A few week's back, some friends tagged Terese and me in a facebook conversation. In the conversation, our friend was reminded about how passionate Terese and I are about recycling. The conversation aroused something dormant inside both of us: an excitement that ARKADELPHIA RECYCLES! After the conversation had steeped in our heads for a couple of days, a question distilled for each of us: “Are we still passionate about recycling? I know we used to be, but …”

I answered this question thus: while our passion has waned, our action has not. We still do all of the stuff to care for the environment that we used to. (Maybe a future post in this statement…) But we’re not in the same position of creating change in ourselves or others. Our passion is not dead, but hibernating.

The hibernating passion met Than’s consistent “Why?” around our dinner table. When they converged, we were reminded routine parts of life like are actually in answer to this question.  We wash diapers, sort our waste into one of three bins, purchase products based on (lack of) packaging, carry our re-usable bags into Target because we value something.

So, Why?

As Christians, we’re called to filter everything we do through the resurrection. Every spent dime and moment, every thrown piece of trash, every surfed web-page, every spoken word should be an implication of the resurrection. Everything we do should reflect the fact that the world and its inhabitants are broken, yet, amazingly, are being fixed. The resurrection of the God-man, Jesus, is the first grape on the vine––our lives in him are our life on the vine.

We take every action, think every thought, spend every dime because of something. Than is on to something: Why do we do A or B or XYZ? This is a question that we’ve got to ask ourselves––and it wouldn’t hurt to have it on a Than-like repeat in our brains.

If every action, thought, dime is a step, then this is a daunting journey. But it’s the journey of our lives, one in which we are given the Word to guide our steps and the Spirit light the way. We have a lifetime to walk in the way of the Lord. Our facebook conversation reminded us of this, too. To be honest, we no longer recycle out of principle but out of habit. By God’s grace, we have re-in-habit-ed our lives so that we don’t have to think about these things. As we are re-habit-uated, we are freed to take other steps…now I’ve been lead to focus on parenting as the Father has parented me and Than is learning the habits of politeness.

Let’s listen to the Spirit as he continually confronts us with the question, “Why…?” Let’s follow him as he leads us to re-in-habit our lives––which is actually His resurrection life.

Saggy Bottoms and Supporting Seminarians

Frederich Theoford Focus, our 2005 Ford station wagon, reached a significant milestone this summer: 100,000 miles.  We hope he's up for another 100,000––but to make it there, the second half of his life will be characterized by several trips to "the car doctor" (which is how our 3 year old refers to the mechanic).  Recently Frederich had a small "health problem."  Specifically, his rear-end was sagging.  It's not that I have a problem with saggy bottoms, but Frederich's rear-end problem was wearing the tires––so his lazy-bum was becoming expensive.

After a couple of mis-diagnoses, we returned from our 5,000 mile summer and took Frederich to our friendly neighborhood mechanic.  The service was superb.  Pete communicated constantly, clearly, and candidly about the Frederich's rear-end.  Not only that, but Pete diagnosed the problem, gave us an hour to make a decision, and had the car fixed: all within a day. 

This isn't a post about Frederich's saggy bum but about supporting seminarians.  Pete's business, just a few miles from Trinity's campus, offers a 10% discount to TEDS students.  So, not only do we trust Pete to care for our dearest Frederich, we know that he's caring for us, too.  He's going to shoot us straight and not sell us an alternator to alter the rear-end.* 

Caring for seminarians is something that I think a lot about.  Terese and I are so grateful for the amazing support we've had over the last two years.  Many people have cared for us in the especially mundane parts of life.  This summer we reflected a lot on God's provision through these people.  But I know many seminarians who just struggle along.

But we saw something else this summer.  We've seen church families who simply needed a project; lacking vision for such a project, we've seen Sunday school classes wandering aimlessly through their quarterlies and churches drawing million dollar plans for buildings.  This was painful to watch––especially in light of the needs of families like Josh's––families representative of many seminarians. 

Our friend, I'll call him Josh, is in his early 40s.  Josh, feeling called to ministry, knew that he needed seminary training.  He and his wife had considered moving to Chicagoland for several years, but were consistently unable to sell their home.  Finally, they decided to take the plunge and made plans to relocate.  Shortly after they made their decision, they found out that they were pregnant.  Yet they remained committed to the Lord's call. 

Since being at seminary, Josh's family has been faced with many difficulties: they never sold their home and now rent it––trying to care for it from 1,000+ miles away.  After leaving behind a lucrative landscaping business, they feel the financial burdens of being a full-time student and a full-time mom.  Of course, having a newborn, a 4 year old, a 7 year old, and homeschooling is difficult to juggle with full-time studies.  But they also face small things that most people wouldn't see:

–Josh sold his big diesel truck and now drives a Civic. 
–They left a home on several acres that they took pride in. 
–They now pay more to rent from a less-than-interested landlord on a small suburban lot. 
–On top of all of this, Josh had been out of school for a couple of decades.  The rigors of TEDS academic life has been a steep curve for him. 

They're a thousand miles from family, don't have time for friends, and don't have money to do fun things. 

Josh's family's needs are typical of seminarians.  The equation doesn't add up:

–Seminarians are all the time having kids––an expensive and time-consuming ordeal.  (Check out this cutie on TEDS kids on campus page.)
–Debt isn't a good option because seminarians graduate with not-so-lucrative jobs awaiting them.  

(As an aside, it's little wonder that there's a "movin' on up" trend with pastors.  "Movin' on up" the ladder is usually accompanied by movin' on up the pay-scale.  Sometimes this movin' helps pay college and seminary student loan debts.)
–Finding a job during seminary is complicated––especially for seminarians who are also parents.  For example, Terese and I have decided that the following equation isn't worth it:  

($ from job) – ($ for child-care) ≠ (a little $) + (being away from our children).
–Seminarians are dedicated students.  They take their studies seriously because they take shepherding God's flock seriously.  But dedication takes time.

So why do this?  Seminarians enter this lopsided equation because of a call.  Whenever I rub shoulders with MDiv students, I'm amazed at their level of commitment to God's call on their life.  They're willing to sacrifice so much––sometimes too much––to fulfill this call.

I spent much of my professional career guiding my staff in self-care.  When I see seminarians sacrifice too much, my heart breaks for two reasons.  First, because the equation requires sacrificing stewardship toward family or studies or money.  Something's gotta give.  Second, while seminarians are breaking the bank to fulfill God's call, living as cheaply as possible, others live lavishly.

I hope to post more about supporting seminarians in the future.  But I'll sign off with some quick ideas:

–Have your Sunday School class adopt a seminarian.  S/he can come once or twice a year to teach the class (or preach!), and the class can keep up with her/his family and studies.  You don't have to be close to a seminary to make this happen––harness the power of the internets. 

–Talk to your church about hiring a seminarian during the summers or even recent grads.  (Look for a post very soon on this.)

–Talk to your pastor about her/his seminary days.  Often these are days of fond memories and good friends.  I bet s/he would love to remember. 

–Give.  While seminarians aren’t looking for handouts, they are grateful for gifts.  And it doesn’t take much: I’ve seen seminarians stretch $50 farther than I thought possible. 

–Don't know a seminarian?  I know enough seminarians all around the country and can connect you!  Shoot me a message.  

*This is just one story where folks have "taken care of" my family.  To be sure, most people who deserve the credit don't want it publicly.  We are so grateful to these people who have cared for us––especially those close to us, but also those, like Pete, who's business is committed to "taking a hit."  

**Saw = on the internet, hearing of friends' churches, or attending.