We were at the festival in Jerusalem when we came upon Jesus. There was quite a crowd around him, so we stopped to look and listen. It was really my wife’s idea; I just wanted to keep moving. But we had heard about the stir he caused at Bethesda (Who hadn’t?), and I guess was curious too, so we stopped.
I’ve got to tell you, once you started listening and watching, you couldn’t turn away. He spoke with clarity on things that learned men don’t understand, and the healings. Leper after leper, the lame, the blind, and the diseased all came and he healed them one by one. Some of these people we had known, or at least seen before, so we knew it wasn’t just a show. Besides, there were far too many of them for it to all be an act.
When he started to move on, I was disappointed to see him go, but it would be good to get back to our routine for the festival. But my wife wanted to go along and she would not be dissuaded. If you’ve got a wife, and you love her, you know when to stand firm and when to give in, so we went. Even the kids seemed drawn to him and had been well behaved as we watched.
We had gotten away to a remote place and he was still teaching and healing. There were people everywhere, thousands of them. We were all exhausted and I was feeling pretty proud of myself for managing to hold out a few loaves and a couple of fish for our family. Most families would be in trouble. They hadn’t brought anything and would have to go get some food in the villages nearby.
Jesus had stopped for a moment and wad conferring with his disciples when he suddenly and purposefully made his way toward us. It was as if he was deliberately walking in our direction, almost as if he needed something from us. I would have sworn he briefly looked me right in the eye. As he grew nearer, I could hear him talking with his guys, they were discussing dinner plans, actually, about feeding the whole crowd. They were quite near and had stopped just a stone’s throw away. It seems Jesus expected his men to feed the crowd and they had nothing. Silly fools, caught unprepared. Of course with a crowd this size, as one of them pointed out, it would take a lot of food.
It was then that I noticed Joshua, my oldest at 11. He had our basket in his hand, looking up at me. He had heard the teacher talking. “Daddy,” he said to me, “we could share our lunch.”
“Joshua, there’s no way our little lunch would make a dent in the appetite of this large crowd. Let’s not bother the teacher, besides we must take care of our own, your sister and mother and I came prepared. It sounds like he and his disciples did not. Come, let’s find a shade tree and eat.
“But Papa, it wouldn’t be nice for us to eat while all these people go hungry. He made all those sick people well, maybe there’s something he can do.”
My wife was looking up at me and I knew I wasn’t going to win this one, you know, when to stand, when to back down. It was a silly idea, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to make an offer. I’m sure they’ll smile at him and send him back to us. “OK, go on and offer our basket.”
He beamed at me and skipped off to the teacher and his group. One of the men stooped down to listen, gazed over at the basket, smiled and shoed him on his way. Good, that’s that. But Joshua wouldn’t be deterred. He tugged again on the man’s tunic. He threw his hands up in desperation, and approached the teacher. I could see him pointing back at Joshua and the basket and talking with the teacher. The teacher smiled, waked over to Joshua, bent down and hugged him, and then Joshua came running back – without the basket.
“He want’s us to sit down.” he said.
“But now what are we to eat!” I grumbled. He was motioning the crown to sit on the ground. He held our loaves and fish high and blessed them. Then he gathered twelve of his men around him. They all had baskets; I still don’t know where they came from. He divided our measly little lunch among them and sent them out.
I watched as these twelve men circulated through the crowd, handing out food. At first they seemed embarrassed, but as family after family after family reached into those baskets and pulled out fish and bread, they were clearly astonished. The man Joshua had spoken too came by our family as we sat there, his name turned out to be Andrew. He thanked Joshua and offered him some for our family.
“Not too much Joshua, save some for the others!” I said, instinctively, although it seemed silly now. But Joshua either didn’t hear or realized how ridiculous my instructions were based on what we were seeing. After all, Andrew himself had already handed out more than our basket had contained. Joshua reached in and pulled out one large loaf and a huge fish fillet, I swear it was larger than either of the fish we had given. Off Andrew went, offering and giving food to dozens, no hundreds more.
We had eaten and were satisfied and those twelve were still at it, handing out food. Actually, we had leftovers, and they came back around and filled those baskets back up again with what was left over. They made their way back to where the teacher was, but he was busy with the people. They sat down, obviously worn out from their waiting tables. They didn’t talk, instead each of those twelve men sat there, looking at their baskets, smiling in disbelief. It was a sight to see.
Later, Andrew came back by with his basket, rather our basket. He thanked us quite a lot and left the basket with us. It had been ’emptied’ several times over that day, yet returned to us heavier than before. He thanked us again with a smile and ran back to the master.
“See Papa, I knew he could help. Thank you for letting me go!”
I just grinned. And to think, if I had gotten my way, we wouldn’t have followed this silly man out to the wilderness. And I would have missed out. And if it weren’t for the foolish faith of a boy, there wouldn’t have been a miracle that day.
We went on our way, back to Jerusalem for the feast. The day stuck with me as time went on. We heard more rumblings about that Jesus for a while, but it died down. I never did hear what happened to him. It wasn’t until years later, when a man named Paul came to the synagogue that it all came together for me and I truly understood what I had been a part of that day.

18 years ago today (Oops, lost track of what day it was. It was yesterday, the 26th.) I joined the family of God. After a couple of months of studying the Bible, re-evaluating what I had thought was my faith and making some hard decisions on what I wanted my life to be, I was baptized at a campus devotional in the Old Chem building at the University of Cincinnati.
18 years.
The events of that summer turned my world upside down. If you had met me in the years immediately following, 16-17 years ago, I would have likely told you that I began my spiritual journey that summer. That my relation with with God started on that Friday night.
Now, older and wiser and hopefully a bit more humble, I know that the journey began long before that. Long before I knew that there was a journey to take. It began with parents who made sure I had a foundation of faith to build on. Unfortunately, more than once in my pride and immaturity I dismissed their efforts.
18 years.
A lot has happened in that time. I’ve seen a fledgling movement rise and then fall under the weight of its own sin. I’ve watched my own faith rise and fall as well. I’ve lived in 4 cities in 3 states, gotten married, had 3 girls and participated in a church planting. I’ve seen my eyes opened to new realities, more than once, and I’ve watched my spiritual priorities get reoriented in recent years.
18 years.
In many ways, I feel like I’ve learned so much, come so far and grown so much. In others I feel like I know even less that I once did and I’m less clear on many things.
I hope the next 18 bring more clarity, more humility, more unity and more relationships with those who are His.

Dan over at Cerulean Sanctum is about to go on hiatus for a month (which, if you are in a position to need a freelance writer, you might be able to help him come back sooner.) Before he leaves, however, he’s promised some hard hitting posts. Yesterday’s lived up to it.
Related to my post yesterday on our pursuit of our own wealth instead of sharing it, and this quote from Soren Kierkegaard, he wonders if we’re really willing to pursue ministry over money. He says:

the response [to the cross] is EXTREME. It means death. The cross says, Now here you die, here and now. All your desires, all your hopes, all of you. It also means real life. Have we tasted it?

That hits me where I live for sure. America is a money and possessions oriented culture. We are surrounded by stuff, stuff and more stuff. We are told incessantly that we need it and deserve it. You cannot avoid it and it pulls at you. Even if you resist it you cannot be sure that all you are accomplishing is slowing the tide’s pulling you out to the sea of materialism.
I wonder a lot if I am too immersed in this culture of wealth, even if I stand at its fringe, to recognize how far I am from the cross? It’s scary indeed. Go read Dan’s post.

I subscribe to a few email lists for Pro|ENGINEER, the CAD software I use at work. It’s mostly folks from the US, though we do get posts from all over the world.
This week, one came through from India requesting someone, preferable also from India, to come train them in plastic part design. As you might expect, more than one person in the US took issue with this, coming down pretty hard on the guys English and complaining, indirectly, about the jobs going there.
It got me thinking. This Indian guy is just thinking, “Our company is growing, we need help. I’ll ask the Pro|E guys.” He’s enjoying the new found opportunities in his country, he has little or no clue what his prosperity may mean for some here in the US.
Then I though, here is this poor nation, beginning to find some wealth. And here we are, with our 2,500 square foot houses, 2.5 cars, HD TV’s, boats and what not, complaining about them trying to get a little piece of it.
So I wondered, what would the world be like, if in the last 50-60 years of prosperity, the Christians in America had decided that maybe 1,800 square feet was enough, I don’t need the new wide screen or maybe I won’t buy the boat. What it instead we used that new wealth and had given it to the poor, 3rd world countries that are now chasing their own version of the American dream at our expense? Imagine, 50-60 years of giving 15%, 20% or 25% of out money to help the poor of the world.
Now, I’m no economist or expert in human behavior or charitable giving, but I have to wonder.
If we had really given to them along the way, shared our wealth with them in their need, would they be trying to take it from us now?

Earlier this month, Pinakidion asked “What have we learned?” I mean, about 3 years ago the trouble that had been brewing for a while came to a head and the world changed in the ICOC. So, what has it taught me?
I’ve thought about that off and on for a while, even before pinakidion asked. Here’s my list, for now anyway:

• The Kingdom of God has nothing to do with denominational or organizational boundaries.
• Unquestioning and blind obedience is not discipleship.
• The great commission is not the greatest commandment.
• God did not create me to simply be an evangelism machine.
• We should have been engaging the broader Christian community, not seeking to assimilate them.
• I need not be afraid of the truth.
• The ICOC was built on a rich spiritual history that we pretty much ignored.
• Jesus is far more liberal than I gave him credit for.
• We were – I was – appallingly arrogant about what I thought I knew and who I thought I was.
• God cares far more about the wounded, broken and bruised than we did.
• The purpose of baptism is forgiveness of sins, not to tell me who’s in and who’s out
• Diversity of opinion is very healthy.
• If we want to be blind, we can be blind.
• Self deception is amazingly easy to achieve.
• There’s a time to sound the trumpet. Even then, it’s very hard to do.

I’m sure there’s more, but that’s good for now. I think that’s a good question for all of us in the ICOC, and potentially educational. I wonder what many folks in positions of leadership and influence have learned?

You may remember that I wrote about this apology last month:

Though we are supportive of new congregations of dedicated disciples, let me extend a heartfelt apology to the churches in Chicago, Phoenix and Kiev for giving the impression of a “blanket condemnation” that there were no disciples in them or that their congregations “were spiritually dead.” Please forgive me. I know that there are many “sold-out” disciples in these congregations.

Kip McKean, June 11, 2006

I and others were encouraged, but skeptical. Well, the other shoe has dropped with the conclusion of this proclamation:

This past week, Elena and I returned from a missionary trip that included Chicago and Kiev, Ukraine. Praise God at the inaugural service of the Chicago International Christian Church on July 2, with just one week’s work by 29 disciples daily proclaiming Christ, 122 attended their first service! The next day God blessed them with their first baptism! In Kiev, the newly formed Kiev International Christian Church which numbers 30 disciples, likewise had over 100 at their inaugural service in April! Today, at our Rose Garden Service, the Spirit is sending out 14 disciples from Portland to Phoenix, Arizona. Ten months ago four disciples started a new congregation of sold-out disciples in Phoenix. Now they number twenty! Recently they asked for a “Portland trained” evangelist. Matt and Helen Sullivan (and their three kids) will now spearhead the proclamation of Christ to the five million lost souls of Phoenix!
… Soon Chicago, Kiev and Phoenix will be filled with the good news of Jesus! Let all disciples, everywhere regain the faith that whole nations like Chile, in fact all nations, can be filled with the proclamation of Christ in this generation! And to God be the glory!

Kip McKean, July 23, 2006

[Sigh.] I wish I wasn’t surprised. His own words reveal just how heartfelt his apology was as he continues to “[give] the impression of a “blanket condemnation” that there [are] no disciples” in these cites and the ICOC (and other) congregations there.
I don’t know why I feel compelled to write about this again other than my historical connections with Kip and the sadness I feel as the Gospel is twisted into a conquest. Doesn’t really effect me or my church, however.
Thanks to Pinakidion for the info.

It’s been quiet around here lately. Last week, my good friend BEG and his wife and two girls (Yep, that makes 7 women to 2 men in the house. 10 to 2, if you count the cats) came in from Wisconsin for most of the week. It was a week of church talk, Driver 2 on Playstation and a new gate in my fence. Good times.
BEG and I are pretty different in some (tractors vs. hot rods) ways but a lot alike in others. This week we talked about one way which we found ourselves in several times. We called it ‘The TP Issue’, see if you can relate.
I go to the store and the first thing on the list is toilet paper. I go the TP isle and scan the choices. Let’s see, we’ve got Charmin, Northern, the store brand and others in standard, mega and jumbo rolls as well as various size packages with different numbers of rolls. Choices, choices, choices. Well, if the store brand is anything like that stuff at my old employer I certainly don’t want it. Ouch. Hmm, but it is $0.08 cheaper per roll, $0.10 in the bulk pack.
“Excuse me.” I step aside to let a woman get to the shelves. She grabs a package and moves on.
Oh, but look the Charmin rolls have 10% more sheets per roll in than the store brand, and the store brand doesn’t have a jumbo roll. That’s 12% more sheets. So, uh, how does that work our price wise on a sheet by sheet basis? I’ve got a calculator on my Palm Pilot …
“Excuse me.” Another woman steps by, grabs a package and moves on.
OK, so the Charmin is slightly more per sheet, but about the same if I get the bulk pack. Northern is pretty much the same. I think the Charmin looks softer, plus I like those commercials with the bears. Wait, oh I get it, the sheets on the Charmin are only 5″ x 4″ where the store brand has 5″ x 6″ sheets. Well that throws the whole thing off …
Some 20 minutes later I leave the TP isle with my choice. Now, on to shredded cheddar. Hmmm, 3 cups of Kraft vs. 2 cups of …
After I get it home I realize that the jumbo rolls I bought don’t fit in my TP holder. Argh. I kick myself for not getting it right.
An exaggeration? Yeah, a little, but you get the point. I’m obsessed with getting it right and it’s just toilet paper. You should have seen us at Home Depot buying gate hardware. T shaped hinges or straight? Zinc plated or black? 6″ or 4″? Right angle or flush? And on and on and on. We looked at each other maybe twice and said “It’s a TP issue.” Yet we still analyzed and thought and thought. It took us 30-45 minutes to pick out a pair of hinges, a latch and a box of screws.
I do the same thing spiritually. My mind races around and around trying to determine if I have the absolutely right take on a particular doctrine. And if I do, what are the implications? If the implications seem wrong, perhaps that means I’ve got the doctrine wrong? Or maybe I don’t understand the implications? What if someone I respect and loves God thinks differently? What does that mean? Who’s right?
I’ve intellectually understood that God is not looking for us to be right but to be righteous, but my nature is to make sure I’ve bought the right toilet paper. I understand in my head that two Godly men can have different opinions and both be right, but part of me still says “OK, sure, but seriously, who’s right?”
It’s all about not wanting to let go of my ways and embrace God’s way. To stay in control and not surrender. It’s the part of me that can’t believe that “God’s grace is sufficient.” I think that grace will be enough as long as I’ve got the rest right. Just a minute God, I’ll relax, let go and accept your grace in a minute, I’ve just got to figure this out …
It’s exhausting and frustrating and I don’t know how to be different. Anyone relate?

While in Cincinnati this weekend we saw some interesting church signs.
One was the big black sign along the freeway that Dan Edelen referred to in this post:

A Church for People Who Don’t Like Church.

Our friends wanted to make sure we noticed that one too. I wonder if it’s really effective at bringing people in that wouldn’t come otherwise.
Better still were two changeable church signs within about a mile of each other. The first was this:

All the world’s a camera, look pleasant please.

Yeah, that was a real sign on a church. I had to ask Maria to repeat it for me (I was concentrating on staying behind our friends). Maybe it was intended as a sarcastic commentary on our culture or perhaps there was more to learn if I had been to the service that Sunday, but what Maria and I both thought immediately was “If you come to church here, please leave your problems at home and smile when you come in.” Things that make you go hmmm …
Just down the road was this sign, which made my laugh:

Sign broken. Come inside for message.

Heh.