I'm Not Dutch

You heard it here first. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes--all things genetic scream "I'm Dutch." But Facebook has disproved that theory. Sorry, Dad, your trip on the boat and time on Ellis Island meant nothing. Facebook says that I'm not Dutch. Not only am I not Dutch, but I'm classified as "anti-Dutch." Read this description: You have a natural tendency to dislike anything Dutch. You aren't as bad as those guys on the picture, (those guys in the picture are burning a flag from the Netherlands) but you certainly wouldn't stop anyone from torching a Dutch flag.

Sadly, I knew the answers to every question that would make me Dutch, but I just couldn't choose them. I'm sorry that my favorite winter sport is not ice skating on frozen canals, that my favorite food isn't smoke herring, and that I never have and never will use soft drugs.

Too bad they didn't as about Wilhelmina's, stroopwafels, windmills, tulips, oliebollen, and Ere Zij God!

Only in Hinsdale

Tonight we had our annual "Kick Back and Give Back" concert for Young Life. High School kids (talented ones at that) play music, we raise money for Guatemala Young Life. I had the job of collecting money at the door. $5 per person. One sophomore boy walks in and says, "I'm paying for four," and proceeds to hand me a $100 bill. I look at him and say, "do you need change?" He takes it back and says, "my bad, wrong bill." He rifles through his wallet and hands me a $20.

Only in Hinsdale.

(The concert raised $433.00 for our friends in Guatemala...that equals 3,377 Quetzales...a lot of rice and beans or whatever else they want to use it for. Praise God for the generosity and community of tonight!)

Story

I've been thinking a lot about the concept of "story." Really, I've been thinking about this for the past couple years--I wrote my senior thesis for English on the narrative patterns in Scripture that resurface in all of literature. From stories like "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe" that directly reflect the narrative of creation, fall, redemption, and new creation to literature like "Beloved" that rejects the pattern, and in that rejection makes a statement about the reality of the fall.

Needless to say, God reveals himself in story. Jesus preaches with stories. Stories reflect the heart of the Lord and in response, we should be well practiced in the art of storytelling. Stories dig deep and penetrate and we all have stories that are worth telling. In efforts to move forward with this idea, I'm going to practice my storytelling. My goal is to write a story a day and train myself to look for story and for the ways that God is showing up--it may be deep, it may not; I may offer some reflection, I may let the story speak for itself...I don't know. But, it's worth a start:

Yesterday my roommates and I went to this Irish joint down the road from our house to hear a band we'd heard about. The band sang some classic Irish pub songs--some familiar, some not, some border line irreverant, others completely irreverent. They had their groupies, and I was definitely not one of them. I enjoyed the music, laughed, danced, but clearly I was not a huge fan of the Irish Pub Scene. And someone called me out.

I was standing there halfheartedly clapping when a random guy came up to me and the following conversation ensued:

Guy: "I'm on to you; I can see right through you."
Me: "Excuse me?"
Guy: "You're not a fan of Irish music..."
Me: "Really, it's that obvious" (sarcasm was thick)
Guy: "Why are you here?"
Me: "Just enjoying a night out with friends...which I'm doing."

We talked for a few more minutes and then parted. But his words stuck with me. I'm on to you; I can see right through you. Although the situation wasn't all that signficant, it got me thinking about what drives me, what I'm passionate about. Am I someone who is sold out for what I'm representing, or am I putting on a facade that people can read right through?

Needless to say, random guy convicted me to daily present myself to the Lord and ask him to fill me with a true and heartfelt passion so that I'm not faking it and representing something I half heartedly believe.

Tension

We had an interesting discussion in intern training this past week (all first and second year YL staffers in Chicagoland get together every other week for time with Bob Davidson, our regional trainer) about music. We were all asked to bring in a song that conveyed a theological truth. I brought in "The Call" by Regina Spektor. It speaks for itself if you give it a listen. The conversation led to the topic of tension. Sometimes, to a person (high school/middle school kids in our case) who hasn't come to experience the overwhelming power of God's grace and saving love, certain music can dismiss the tension in life.

For example: They lyrics to a song that say "how can I stand here and not be moved by You." I know how I can be moved daily by the Lord, but I know a lot of people who only see the reality of what's in front of them, and that reality does not include abundant blessing . . .

Take Kevin.

Kevin, the boy on the left, was one of the people who we worked with this past summer on the YL work trip. This past week Kevin and his uncle, Clemente, were gunned down in the street. If you read this post (scroll down for a section on Kevin, read it all if you want to spend some time in the shoes of those whom live and work in the worst neighborhoods of Guatemala City) by Brady Greene, the YL staffer down there, it might seem prophetic. But is stating reality really prophetic?

Tension.

John 16: 22--Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.

Can Maritza, Kevin's mourning mother, in this moment, stand and be moved by the Lord? Or is acknowledging her pain and suffering and the reality of the neighborhood a better route to take? I think Jesus would choose the tension. Lepors. Outcasts. Promiscuous women. He meets each one in grief and leaves them with joy.

So, for now, I'm living in the tension, thinking about how Kevin and Hinsdale can coincide, living

with Maritza and the Vida Joven staff in their grief, and anticipating a taste of the joy that is promised.

(For more on Kevin and Clemente, please read the words Brady wrote for the funeral.)