A lot of news and talk has been floating around lately about the world of food. It’s no wonder - I guess we humans have a little addiction to the stuff! But these days there’s a lot more to talk about - the unbridled growth of the organic food movement, locavores and the the 100-mile diet, I’ve seen choices at restaurants increase more and more to include vegetarian and vegan, and this morning I even read about “rescued” food (trash treasures, or dumpster diving, whatever suits ya).

In every country I’ve traveled to, the uniqueness of the culture seems to reveal itself most around issues of the bathroom and the dinner table. People eat differently in Japan than they do in Argentina! (Eat with your hands above the table in Argentina (prove you don’t have a switchblade) and keep your sticks out of your food when you’re not eating it (or your hosts will think you consider their food as delicious as a funeral).

I’ve been reading Jesus for President, (seeing as how this is an election year and I want to research all my options,) here’s a quote:

“How do Christians eat? Christians eat with the poor folks, with the outcast, the marginalized, and the excluded - all who were never invited to anyone else’s party. Ours is a different kind of party. It’s more like a divine banquet than another political program. Society’s misfits are our people, our ‘constituency.’” (pg.241)

And some words from Jesus’ political manifesto:

Luke 14: “When you throw a banquet do not invite your friends…invite the poor.” (Jesus)

Mark 2: “But when some of the teachers of religious law who were Pharisees saw him eating with people like that, they said to his disciples, “Why does he eat with such scum?”

Jesus was a Pooravore.

He surrounded himself with the overlooked and the outcast, the misfits and the marginalized. He gave his rapt attention to those who had been ignored all day as they begged in the streets. They were his posse, his “supper club.”

Today Kat and I were walking through our neighborhood’s market streets with some great friends of ours from Chicago’s south side. I had been thinking and talking with God about some of this all morning. And there as we were walking past the Ten Thousand Villages store (a store about fair trade and justice for the poor) sat an elderly man with no teeth asking for money (the irony was hard to get past). Turns out his name is Bill (name changed to protect the innocent) and he lives in a nursing home not far from where we were.

Bill, like others at the home, is allowed $30 a month from the home (they keep the rest of his social security check, plus any money he makes at a job). He was out of cash and hungry for some hot dogs. I had a $1.25 on me so it we hightailed it down to the corner market and got some juicy ones. The store clerk even mircowaved ‘em for us.

I noticed that everyone in the store and everyone on the sidewalk was from the nursing home, which doubled as a mental institution. He and I sat under the shade of a tree in a park across the street from where he lives his life. He was just as interested in me as I was in him. I got the feeling he was lonely - his family rarely comes to visit him, though they all live in the city.

As I sat there talking with him about coffee crystals and cigarettes, it dawned on me that Jesus made it very clear what kind of diet Christians were to be on. A steady diet of conversation with the oppressed, for that is where their Jesus is. Though those hot dogs left a “mechanically separated” taste in my mouth, it was the best food I’d eat all day long.

Become a Pooravore, and watch your life change.

An inspiring “money drop” on Wall Street from some inspiring brothers and sisters in Christ.

What if another world is possible???

Monday is Martin Luther King Jr. Day; for most the first chance to fire up the grill after December snows. For others, a chance to stand up to current injustices and pronounce a new Kingdom economy in the United States of America.

In Abilene, there is a large bridge that crosses HWY 80 over a large, undeveloped, wooded lot. Nearby there is an abandoned energy plant with busted windows, teetering smoke stacks, and weed-smothered fences. I know that about 350 homeless frequent this “Hobo Jungle” as the locals call it. Many of its inhabitants are children. A little village of the mentally ill, socially discarded, and abused live right underneath and around one of the busiest bridges in the city.

This bridge has two names:
1. The Martin Luther King Jr. Bridge
2. The “Singing Bridge”

Why the “Singing Bridge”? It got this nickname because of the rivets in the street to help drain the rainwater off the bridge. These rivets, as tires drive over them, create a “hum” that sounds eerily like a choir of human voices singing.

What in all of this might God be saying to his people in Abilene? What obvious (or unfortunately, not so obvious) connection might there be in these circumstances?

MLK was a saint - “an incarnated capsule of the Kingdom” that I talk about in this post - I imagine his cries for freedom and justice and equality in this land, and I mourn. I see such devastating prejudice, such insurmountable inequality, and I wonder if MLK failed completely. I wonder if anyone can see or is willing to do anything about the irony of the situation on HWY 80’s “Singing Bridge”.

On Martin Luther King Day, how will we spend it? I know that every year there is a small parade that march across the MLK bridge. Maybe I’ll go this year. Only maybe I won’t just walk over the top of the bridge, but head down underneath it - and meet someone new…maybe Martin Luther King himself.

This morning at BOBS I ate with an elderly black man who had one of those curious grins on his face. You never get tired of seeing a smile like that - its the kind of smile that says, “He is Risen, Risen Indeed!”

He told me of his difficult, tumultuous life in Abilene during the ’60’s when integration was sweeping through West Texas. He talked about being afraid to go to the grocery store, for fear of not knowing if he’d come back. I could hardly believe it. He talked about watching a woman committing suicide and having to just walk by for fear of “looking like he was involved”. This man grew up in a life that was constantly scrutinized and looked on with suspicion from the racial majority.

After coming home, I read the story of Israel as slaves in Egypt. I thought about the plight of the Israelites, and the plight of my new friend. Both have seen the struggles, both have had to hide from the “superior” race. But you know something? I’d wager that both know that smile - that “Risen, Indeed” smile.

What might happen if we all understood that we too are oppressed? What if we all saw our oppression, distraction and attacks not as a means for becoming cynical of the world and its people, but rather as an opportunity to rise above to find that resurrection smile living inside each of us. And when it breaks out - when it truly erupts from within - nothing can ever take you back to the mire of self-pity you were wallowing in. Suddenly it doesn’t matter what your circumstances, you have found victory!

This man this morning found victory, and all I want to ask him is where to find it.

It started out as just another gathering. The little family of faith that Katrina and I meet with had plans to meet at our new apartment to share what Jesus had been up to in our lives. Little did we know that he would wait until we had all gathered to show us!

A few weeks earlier we had all prayed about becoming less of a “church” (regular worship time, devotional/Bible study, closing prayer, etc) and more of Christ’s body (eyes open to the needs of the world, sharing abundant life, etc). This meant big changes in how we operated, and even how we identified our “congregation” (I don’t think we’ve used the word “church” since). We began plotting and prayerfully planning how we might be Jesus by caring about what he cared about. It only took one or two weeks for our first assignment to fall into our laps!

Our friend Mary came to us last night with something weighing on her heart. Earlier that day she had met three travelers whose radiator had busted and were now broken down in the Wal-Mart parking lot. We prayed about it and several of us decided to head out to do what we could to help them.

At first I was a little nervous; one guy was really big and wore a dirty hooded sweatshirt, and had two dogs (one was a pit bull!). But as I began hearing their story, the walls began to come down. These people were kind, thoughtful and just as interested in us as they were in getting their car running again. They said they were driving to New Mexico to scout out the next gathering for a group that call themselves the “Rainbow Family of the Traveling Light” (take a look at their Glossary, which I found to be quite amusing and informative).

Apparently, Rainbow Family is a diverse group that meets regularly out in the woods to pray for peace (in whatever religious angle they happen to hold, or not hold) and to welcome others “home” who have left their jobs, cars, and civilization behind (”Babylon” as they call it). I had always heard about “hippies” (I’m not sure they would claim the term), but until last night I had never actually met any…so I was very curious.
Secretly, I have always been fascinated with their lifestyle, and their ability to rely on the earth and each other for all that they need. Their focus was on peace and healing from destructive forces. They took a huge group down to New Orleans to aid victims of Hurricane Katrina, they continually feed the poor and homeless, even as they are homeless themselves, and make sure no one is left without.
After strumming together on their mandolins (I need to pull mine out again SOON!), we went for coffee. For being so resistant against “mainline lifestyles”, they seemed pretty comfortable in a yuppie coffee shop. I asked them pretty frank questions, and assured them that I meant no offense. We talked about their past, their families, and why they would choose such a radical lifestyle. It was so strange because it all sounded so much like the words of Jesus critiquing the kingdoms of earth and the Prince of the Air.

They asked what I wanted to do with my life, and I told them that I wanted to share the lifestyle of Christ - one that was radically prophetic against the prevailing cultures of comfort and injustice that they found so oppressive. I told them that it might mean living simply, in a home that didn’t hurt the earth, and in a job that didn’t hurt my family. It might mean helping someone out of addiction, or rescuing someone from abuse. They Good News was a lifestyle to be lived, not a track to be passed out.
I told them that Jesus Christ had been castrated and domesticated to fit our lifestyles, rather than the other way around. They seemed pretty pumped up about that, and they realized in our conversation that in many ways they followed Jesus already. I told them that the Kingdom of God was closer than they thought. The whole dialog was pretty surreal, but I give thanks to Father for speaking through me.

If Christians want to learn a thing or two from others, its not going to be from the business world (as so many best-selling church growth books would have you believe) - it might just come from a wooded lot in New Mexico. Here’s a few things I learned from my new hippie friend:

When asked about staying motivated to practice my mandolin, he responded: “If it doesn’t sound good the first time you play it, don’t play it again. And, if you don’t catch yourself smiling every now and again as you play, you’re probably doing something wrong. In fact, that goes for life too.”

“Humans have three lower functions and three higher functions. The three lower functions are to eat, sleep and poop. Anyone can do these. The three higher functions are listening, learning and creating. You MUST be able to share and work with others peacefully to get to the higher functions.”

“Our culture doesn’t love because we don’t trust each other.  That’s why its so hard to find help when we’re stranded on the highway.  Whatever happened to hospitality that Christians showed thousands of years ago?  I guess we can all blame Hitcher for our problems…”

I pray fervently for more opportunities to BE CHRIST together as a spiritual community; nothing nourishes me more - no worship song, no sermon topic, nothing.  This for me is the Good News, that the Kingdom of God came near last night, and we’ll never be the same.