September 6, 2009
Chicago - HQ for the Christian Peacemaker Teams, www.cpt.org .
Living Waters Mennonites had a beautiful Sunday, I thought. The bass player was barefoot - a little chipped blue polish on each toe - the Khmer soup at the potluck steamy and beefy and a little hot - and when they walked the five blocks down to Lake Michigan and baptized Megan I found myself leaking tears, not for the first time today.
A 'parish' model church, compared with the 'network' model church, 70% of Living Waters attenders and members come from about a quarter mile radius around the church. People of color, old and young, gay and straight, seeking Jesus in community. I liked it, and it felt a lot like home.
It's sort of the end of the CPT pilgrimage trail for me. Twenty-four states, two Canadian provinces, and I think I will go ahead and count that day trip into Agua Prieta, Mexico, to see Jose. I've been gifted and sifted, and come to see the Siskiyous tick bite as very very minor.
In some ways it was so foolish... they say don't go looking for trouble... but still somehow we need to figure out how to get Derek's attention... how to get him down into the plasma and come out with his real stuff. His truth. It has been useful to deliberately throw myself in God's path. I may not ever understand how, or how much, but I understand it was true and important this time, for me.
Annie Dillard relates in a book how one specific ancient Israelite temple sacrifice to God Almighty featured throwing the torn breast of a sacrificed lamb at the altar... the idea being to make sure you got His attention...
How many times on this trip has He reached into my life, how many times have I struggled against the desire to TELL Him how I think it should go, and to fight the fight I win when I ASK Him to do it His way.
I think of Louis at Encore Music in Albuquerque, who led me right up to the (excellent, appropriate) replacement guitar. I think of Colin in Toronto's Kensington Market, who should have broken that $20, but gave me the whole thing anyway, "No," he said, "You keep it. Thanks for the guitar lesson." I think of Sharon and her bees and the necklace she gave me, and the affirmation.
I still have such a wide river. I'd like to check in with David and Julie next Saturday morning in Portland, and I have perhaps enough gas money to get to oh, maybe Omaha. My EBT card is suddenly worthless, which was food this whole trip - a CSR says I can talk to another CSR Tuesday, thank you. And the buckle on the travel bag broke, sheeesh...
On the other hand, Mona with the Catholic Worker House in Des Moines says, yes come you are welcome, and there is apparently an open mike in Ames tonight, just north of Des Moines.
Living Waters Mennonites had a beautiful Sunday, I thought. The bass player was barefoot - a little chipped blue polish on each toe - the Khmer soup at the potluck steamy and beefy and a little hot - and when they walked the five blocks down to Lake Michigan and baptized Megan I found myself leaking tears, not for the first time today.
A 'parish' model church, compared with the 'network' model church, 70% of Living Waters attenders and members come from about a quarter mile radius around the church. People of color, old and young, gay and straight, seeking Jesus in community. I liked it, and it felt a lot like home.
It's sort of the end of the CPT pilgrimage trail for me. Twenty-four states, two Canadian provinces, and I think I will go ahead and count that day trip into Agua Prieta, Mexico, to see Jose. I've been gifted and sifted, and come to see the Siskiyous tick bite as very very minor.
In some ways it was so foolish... they say don't go looking for trouble... but still somehow we need to figure out how to get Derek's attention... how to get him down into the plasma and come out with his real stuff. His truth. It has been useful to deliberately throw myself in God's path. I may not ever understand how, or how much, but I understand it was true and important this time, for me.
Annie Dillard relates in a book how one specific ancient Israelite temple sacrifice to God Almighty featured throwing the torn breast of a sacrificed lamb at the altar... the idea being to make sure you got His attention...
How many times on this trip has He reached into my life, how many times have I struggled against the desire to TELL Him how I think it should go, and to fight the fight I win when I ASK Him to do it His way.
I think of Louis at Encore Music in Albuquerque, who led me right up to the (excellent, appropriate) replacement guitar. I think of Colin in Toronto's Kensington Market, who should have broken that $20, but gave me the whole thing anyway, "No," he said, "You keep it. Thanks for the guitar lesson." I think of Sharon and her bees and the necklace she gave me, and the affirmation.
I still have such a wide river. I'd like to check in with David and Julie next Saturday morning in Portland, and I have perhaps enough gas money to get to oh, maybe Omaha. My EBT card is suddenly worthless, which was food this whole trip - a CSR says I can talk to another CSR Tuesday, thank you. And the buckle on the travel bag broke, sheeesh...
On the other hand, Mona with the Catholic Worker House in Des Moines says, yes come you are welcome, and there is apparently an open mike in Ames tonight, just north of Des Moines.