Echoes and Moments

I remember vividly the first time I spoke in the capacity of a preacher, unmediated by the role of worship leader, MC, or other function that was separated from the platform of public engagement from the "pulpit." In this case, it was a flimsy black music stand, standing near the aisle between unnecessary rows of black chairs set up in a room at Allan Hancock College, where I spent the first two years of my career as a campus minister. It was a warm night in April, free of the fog that normally cloaks coastal Santa Maria like a blanket, or the persistent winds that funnel from the sea into the inland valleys festooned with grapevines and fruit orchards. That year was one of radical reorientation to a new life out of college. I lost the dependable rhythm and purpose of a regimen of courses, for I had recently graduated from Cal Poly a few months before. I also lost the emotional support of a long romantic relationship, and was just feeling the stabbing pain and gut-twistin...

A week has passed since America saw its most divisive, vitriolic, rhetoric-infused election in modern memory. My generation saw the promises and hope brought by a charismatic young President of color overwhelmingly silenced by the angry masses of (overwhelmingly) white voters from a continuous stretch of our country gathered and participating from Arizona to Pennsylvania. The news of hate crimes, the images of protestors lighting up the streets, and the inevitable reaction by armor-clad militarized police forces filled my screens as I watched our nation react. Friends and family shared their terror, their fear, their anger, their grief. I saw everything from escapism (Bible verses and an injunction to trust in God) to scapegoating. I had to quit my presence on social media. As for me, I sat, stunned, shocked, and angry. But, as I assessed my emotions in the aftermath, facing the prospect of a Presidency presided over by a racist, xenophobic, misogynistic bully named Donald J. Tru...

This Sunday ushered in a new liturgical year, where the Church gathers to await the celebration of the coming King with the season of Advent. We call this season "advent" from the Latin adventus , meaning "coming." It is a time to await the Nativity of the Lord, a celebration usually called Christmas here in the West, but also the watch in hope and longing for his second coming. In my tradition this is a season of taking stock, of penance, giving, and reflection. We have the chance to address our need for the Savior, and, as the days shorten and darkness creeps into the corners of our existence, we tend to the flicker of hope that dawns within us. In this time we may see familiar symbols to serve as guideposts along the journey: advent wreaths, candles, special music, and the muted colors of purple and blue to adorn our altars and vestments. For me it is the encroaching darkness and cold that offers the most stark reminder of the season's offerings. Philee...

This week the St. Louis suburb of Ferguson has grabbed my attention. Aside from hashtags, news reports of looting and violence, and a flurry of media attention, the death of 18 year old Michael Brown is a tragedy that should have been avoided, and reminds us of our country's deeply troubling racial and ethnic divides. On Sunday, I gathered with a group of concerned representatives from Fresno's local church to stand in solidarity with Ferguson, holding our hands up in honor of Brown's final stand as he was gunned down in the street. I stood with black, brown, and Asian sisters and brothers because it is not okay that these things happen in this country. I stood with them to remind our city that we face the same challenges as Ferguson and much of the rest of the country. Our racial wounds are ripped open afresh. I would rather draw attention to the voices of other people of color rather than continue with my own thoughts of the tragedy. One of my favorites is a challe...

Pope Francis is a popular guy these days. Apart from being named Time's Person of the Year , he's led the charge on presenting a fresh face for the Catholic church in the twenty-first century. Unlike the mild-mannered theologian-turned-pontiff that preceded him, Pope Benedict XVI, Francis has made engaging the culture around him a priority. He's been caught washing the feet of women, embracing the sick, and addressing the priority of the church as "for the poor, to the poor." In a major interview published in the Jesuit magazine America, he likened the role of the church to a field hospital, unafraid to get its hands dirty in the struggle for truth and justice. His Jesuit roots show in his flair for simplicity and concern for issues of justice. His pastoral career shows in his efforts to reform what he calls a "self-referenced" Curia largely in need of change. Today, he embraces his role as Pope to unify the church further and heal rifts between man...

If you don't understand this, or at least don't have a strong opinion about this,  then I WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND, PLEASE. I love the church. I love ministry, and I'm sold out on giving my entire life, resources, and talent to cooperate in its mission from here on out. Now, that doesn't mean I always like "church" in the sense of that regular religious practice of going to a local community worship gathering, navigating its bureaucracy, or processing any number of things that strikes a chord or a nerve related to music, preaching style, or theology. No, the vision is more dynamic than that, amplified, even widescreen in proportions. I serve in an interdenominational parachurch ministry, which means that I serve in partnership and interdependence with the Church universal. I take this notion of Church seriously, so much in fact, that I make it my business to engage and support dialogue across an unfortunately segmented and disjointed entity that sometimes ...

Ok, so I was going to write my weekly blog contribution around the topic of the recent anniversaries of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki . This occasion is an important one to reflect on our attitude of retribution, justice, and violence. Most especially, to hold us accountable for our attitude of "the means justify the ends." Yet the pastor of my parent's church gave a great word today about our attitude towards women and the effect it has on our Christian discipleship. As adherents to the kingdom of God, we believe in a reality of freedom bound in love (not simply unhindered liberty) in the gaze of our Creator God. In sharing his perfect, Triune love, we are compelled to live with each other perfectly, harmoniously, and peacefully. In short, our shared vision turns towards shalom . Still, we are wise to recognize the siren call of our culture that seduces us to return to the old slavery to our flesh (as Paul calls it), or our gridlocked mode of being that is sel...

Yesterday was my Mom's birthday, and so I think it's appropriate to reflect on motherhood and its spiritual implications. People often note how beautiful, winsome, and charming my own mother is, and I'll go ahead and allow my ego to claim that I inherit some of that. Whether or not that is actually true, I am so proud of her for all her support, strength, and courage providing care for young people beyond my brother and myself. Her career in medical care, her upbringing in an international, multicultural context, and marriage to my Dad all speak to her unique ability to spread her love wide. To those that get to see her at all hours of the day, we know that she rarely withholds her own opinions or feelings. Indeed, she seems to feel strongly about most things; indifference is something that doesn't come naturally to her, and is probably why I have such a hard time holding my own tongue. Rather than interacting with our ethnicity through  machismo, she has infused ...

Disclaimer: This week I might seem a bit heavy handed, but it's an important topic and one that I must discuss frankly in order to maintain my own integrity. Thanks for your graciousness.  Our culture has a problem. A big one. For all the technology, food, and information that we can acquire literally at our fingertips, a vast moral gulf has emerged between us and the developing world. Although such morality can't be quantified or tested in any empirical way, we have clues to help us out and sober our perspective on our global community. Generosity, measured by giving, is one such way that I get to see up close both the joy and sorrow of our condition. Now, rather than jump on the rock in the Areopagus and pontificate, or decry Mammon like others seem to relish, I'll simply share some of my encounters since becoming a missionary responsible for raising my own support. As someone utterly dependent on the generosity of others, I feel I'm somewhat qualified to comment. T...

As an adult convert to the Roman Catholic expression of our Christian faith, I join the ranks of many before who find themselves  at the Eucharistic table. It has been a journey of unspeakable joy and depth, and there is more to write than I could hope to share on the pages of this humble blog. As I lift my hands and recite the liturgy of the Mass alongside my brothers and sisters young and old in the pews, I recognize that I share few of their experiences. The majority are "cradle" Catholics, nurtured in the cultural traditions of childhood and adolescent catechesis, the steps of Baptism, First Communion, and Confirmation clear benchmarks on the journey into the community. Those few who have embraced faith from the outside often come from irreligious or agnostic backgrounds. Even if they received some form of the sacrament of baptism or teaching in another Christian tradition, it means little to their faith journeys. Of course I generalize, but you get my point. After a...