Echoes and Moments

Heaven in 2017. As the shards of my consciousness reform after the inevitable energy drain received in the aftermath of an intense five-day urban program (and the final project for my ministry with InterVarsity), the depth of my awareness for the wounds of young people returns. When the reactive depression recedes like a strong tide, and the wind stings my face beside a salty shore, and the connective tissue in my thoughts, emotions, and passions resume their normal furious pull -- there is another, deeper crisis in miniature, the point where my courage falters, a split-second where the absurdity overwhelms and paralyzes. In a talk I gave at the end of Day Three of the program, I described the work of French novelist and philosopher Albert Camus, who evolved from the same colonial European milieu that produced Derrida and dialogued with the great existentialists (whom he never enjoyed being lumped in with). He is famous for giving flesh to the concept of the Absurd, which in br...

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...

Ordination ceremony, St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City. I've been on staff with InterVarsity for four years, doing a total of four jobs during this relatively short span of time. I've held part time positions throughout the whole time, and have never had a consistent forty hours of work that has directed my focus to one particular community or even campus. Scattered among the responsibilities are seminars, lessons, camps, conferences, and even planning team meetings that reach into the future of our emerging leaders. I've staffed projects that range from six weeks of intensive urban training, to ten months of urban leadership. Along the way I've met colleagues who have bravely faced campus de-recognition, racism, marching in Ferguson, and signing petitions to catch the attention of the most influential folks in our spheres. All of it is an immense privilege. Here's the thing though. There is a great inconsistency and a growing tension within me because ...

Fresno's Fulton Mall, at the heart of its downtown core's revitalization efforts This upcoming year I'll be stepping into a new role in ministry I've been preparing for for several months. I'll be the Assistant Director of FIFUL's Pink House , an intentional  community that prepares young men and women to empower their communities in urban ministry, engaging the inner city through the lens of leadership development. My only experience in inner city ministry thus far has been through the Fresno Urban Internship, better known in shorthand as FUI , a six-week intensive inner city immersion where community, service, and leadership development combine in a unique and powerful way. As I write this, I reflect on the last six weeks, which I spent as a staff for the project in the heart of Fresno, a city of half a million with some of the nation's highest concentrations of poverty. There are some distinctions between the two programs. FUI is six weeks during ...

The past two weeks held a flurry of ministry activity. They left me in such a state of exhaustion that I felt it necessary to hike through eight miles of secluded country under the shadow of the lofty Sierra Nevada. I did this to unwind; I did this to refocus. But I also did this to have a frank conversation with God. Specifically, I found myself asking him, "Was all that worth it?" You see, our two weeks of outreach had a twofold goal: one, increase the number of students actively participating in our fellowship, since we've noticed a significant decline in numbers from last semester. Two, we wanted to see students make decisions of faith, both fulfilling our original purpose to pursue mission on campus, as well as to grow our own faith as we stepped outside of our comfort zones to share the good news of Jesus with others. We thought up a wonderfully creative way to engage the campus in conversation. We allowed participants to write down their secrets, those close-ke...

Good art shows, it doesn't tell. Therefore 'Worship Arts' may appear paradoxical at first glance, though it increasingly forms the job description for many new pastoral church staff. For a few years the title 'Worship Coordinator' formed my ministry identity as a member of youth group and later in college. So you may understand my ambivalence when I attempt to explain my practical theology of worship, which has more to do with David crying in a cave than it does with light shows, good guitar tone, and reverb-washed vocals. Let me explain. For many years the contemporary church has been embroiled in something asininely referred to as the "worship wars." Relevant Magazine has a helpful summary of the phenomena for the post-evangelical age, which I won't treat in depth here. See, I led worship for two years in a multiethnic fellowship of college students committed to seeing Jesus transform the lives of students and faculty in a profound and rea...

Sufjan Stevens in 2005. My latest poem was inspired by an album that I listened to as I drove from Fresno to my current home in Roseville. The music? Sufjan Steven's classic album Come on Feel the Illinoise! . Because it came out in 2005 (a pretty dead year for good music), and because of how much I enjoyed this guy's stuff as a teenager, I was surprised by how much the music holds up after such popularization. Kids in my generation know "Chicago" for its movie soundtrack overtones  (click if you don't believe me), or even "Casimir Pulaski Day" for how Stevens uses a religious experience to inform his perspective on a close friend's death. People of all ages should listen to it because it is just good music. I'm still holding onto the dream that he finishes his project to write an album about every state! Only 48 to go! Same guy, with his wife and kids in 3005. This poem's title is my tribute to that great dreamer.  But the p...

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 ...

Like most young twenty-somethings employed in less-than-traditional roles, I find myself at least a few times a week at my favorite local coffee hangout. Although I normally rail against the corporate consumerism that enslaves our society, I have to admit my favorite spot to hammer out a few hours of work is the Starbucks on the other side of town. It's not that I particularly enjoy their coffee, music, or service. Rather, I like how much space there is (a surprise considering that the typical Starbucks is a poor work/meeting space, much more suited to refueling on-the-go as opposed to, say, your typical indie coffee shop) and how it is a perfect 15 minute drive from home (it means I feel like a "normal" person when I drive to and from the place). Plus, that Gold Card free refill is a lifesaver. My typical work regimen includes a batch of planning, emails, working on my schedule for appointments, travel, and budgeting. Woven into the mix are always spots for browsin...

Life is interesting now that I'm posted for an indeterminate amount of time in Roseville, a town that I haven't called home in 6 years, in which I had only lived for 3 years before departing for college. I love the chance to dig into the nitty gritty of dependency on God , the good food abounding, and the chance to reconnect with many budding partners in the ministry the Lord is in the process of funding. Yet there are a few things I don't enjoy as much: the heat, the suburban traffic, and the persistent bewilderment I face when talking to many who think I should be doing "better" things with my life. So, because you are my friends and would never wish to dishonor me thus, I'll clue you into a few things that will prevent me from silently shrinking in horror the next time we are in conversation. I present: Three Questions you should never ask an InterVarsity staff worker (at least if you want them to continue liking you). The largest class of new staff e...

It's deep into Day 5 on my first of several large road trips I'll have to do in the process of gathering a team of committed supporters to fund the ministry I serve for next year. Above all, the great highlight has been the chance to reconnect with friends whom I would likely otherwise fall out of touch with. Some of these friends are married, some are engaged, and some have just taken the step of buying their own house. I do myself a disservice if I slip into comparison, or begin to heed the distracting voice that tempts me to ask, " What if? " Surely there are great sacrifices involved in depending on the generosity of others for your livelihood, but it brings me great joy to model a deep commitment to our relationships and an investment in a trust-based accountability partnership. My journeys have brought me from my burning hot posting in Sacramento through the Bay Area to Carmel, back into the furnace to my future home of Fresno, down to Los Angeles and out to w...