Week 4 – Lent

Luke 15:1-3; 11b-32

The lenten journey to the cross marks us as the offspring of Adam and Eve. We come face to face with our own mortality, recognizing our own story as a mere repetition of the first sin. From the moment the first couple ate of the fruit, the world devolved into confusion. The power of sin flooded the earth, and mired every relationship – the earth was cursed, violence took hold. Humans experienced separation from one another and from God. Of course, this was not at all how God intended it. The world was made by a Good Creator who makes Good Things. God created humanity to be in proper relationship with God, with others, with our self, and with Creation. But we continue to muck that all up in our attempt to save ourselves. So now, rather than relationships properly directed toward their Creator, those relationships between God, others, self, and creation have been severed.

The story of the Prodigal Son – which is really the story of the prodigal grace of the Father – narrates the sin of Adam and Eve and God’s radical response to that sin. We see, once again, relationships severed by sin and those same relationships restored by grace. 

The younger of two sons moves into a far off and foreign land, squandering a too-soon acquired inheritance from his dad through excessive living. And after he spent everything, a famine hit the land and he was forced to take on the condition of a slave. Thinking that he could be at least a servant of his Father and still have food to eat, he made his way back home. At the same time, the Father never seemed to give up hope for the return of his son; keeping watch toward the distant horizon day after day. We all know what happens. The Father runs to meet his son, welcomes him as a son (not a servant), and throws a party to celebrate this lost child who had come home. It is truly an astounding story of God’s love and grace toward us wayward human beings. 

As this story becomes more familiar to me, I recognize the nature of the relationships that are restored. Growing up, the spiritual dimension of the relationship between the Father and the son was always emphasized. But the story is detailed enough to parallel brokenness and redemption across the range of relationships mirrored within the story of the Garden of Eden – with God, self, others, and creation.

With an eye toward these relationships, we see the story take on a more complete view of what it means for God to redeem, restore, and save us. The son certainly sinned against his Father (and confesses as much). To ask for your inheritance before the death of your father is a great insult, and the sin is magnified by the physical distance that now exists between the father and the son (the distant country). Relationships remain healthy with a sense of intimacy and nearness, a physical impossibility if you’ve just taken from your father and left your family, home, and culture behind for a new and foreign place. The relationship between the Father and the son is broken.

We quickly find that creation itself plays an important role within the development of this story. After he squanders all that he has, the land is hit with a famine. Growing becomes difficult, wages drop, and economic resources become more scarce. We are left with a picture of the scarcity that exists within this distant land compared to the abundance of life provided in the house of the Father. In the distant land, the relationship between the son and creation is strained and breaking.

Further pronounced are the social and familial dynamics at work between the son and his brother . The brother continues on with his family duties, working for his father faithfully. By the end of the story, we see the way sin reverberates across relationships. Perhaps with an air of self-congratulation, the brother puffs himself up when compared to the son who ran off. And when his Father offers grace and hospitality to the lost son, the brother cannot even take it up himself to celebrate, groaning that the father never did for him what he is now doing for the other. And the brother fails to recognize that the Father’s dominion already belongs to him. The relationship between the son and brother was broken.

Finally, the story narrates a profound understanding of identity. As the son travels in distance away from the Father, his identity changes with him. In the far-country, instead of a beloved son of the Father, he hires himself to an unnamed foreign citizen, who farms him out to the unclean horde of pigs. It is here at the bottom that some remote memory begins to percolate. Why starve to death as a slave here, where I could at least be a slave and be well fed at home? The son could no longer conceive of himself as the son of the Father. Rather, he assumed the identity of that which he deserved, a slave. The relationship within the son and himself left a broken and shattered identity.

The wonderful thing about this story is that it actually narrates the putting-back-together of each of these broken relationships. Karl Barth, in volume IV of his Church Dogmatics, concluded that the story of the prodigal son only made complete sense when read side by side with the story of another Son of the Father. This Son willingly gave up equality with God to become a servant in the distant land.  And by doing so reconciled all estranged and broken relationships, marked by justice and righteousness as properly ordered toward their Creator. 

When the Father welcomes the son, he welcomes him as his son, giving him the ring of the family and restoring his identity. The distant land marked by scarcity is flipped at home – kill the fattened calf, tonight we feast out of our abundance. The relationship with the Father is immediately restored in a complete act of free grace. The arms of the father extend around the son in a gesture of forgiveness and acceptance.

The story does leave one little piece un-ended. It leaves the brother contemplating the words of the Father outside of the party. It’s important to recognize at this point who Jesus is talking to (Vs. 1-3). Clearly, Jesus relates the older brother’s sentiments with that of the Pharisees and teachers mumbling about Jesus welcoming sinners and tax collectors. We see the gesture of the Father reaching out to the older brother to bring reconciliation. And the story is left with a type of incompleteness, as if Jesus begs for a bodily response.

When we look around our families, churches, and communities, we see quickly the brokenness that exists in each of these relational dimensions. The earth cries out for healing from the toll of human non-care and neglect. Our relationships with our spouse, co-worker, or neighbors could be marked more by competition or envy than grace and love. We live in and out of multiple stories that compete for our allegiance and identity. And each of these relationships, when strained, cause further separation from the Creator. The story of the Prodigal Son allows us to better see and orient our life around the nature of a prodigal God who continues to hold out hope for the Divine Son to gather us all back into the house of God which is marked by justice and righteousness.

Family Picture Overload

Work is busy these days, but we're managing to do some fun family things too. Here's a peak.
We love our yard. These orchids are in full bloom right now.

 Some serious crafting.

I found this one morning last week and it made my heart smile. Justice had all of our toothbrushes ready when breakfast was over.

 Halloween. Justice wanted to be a Christmas Present. And Micah is happy in any dress-up clothes.

 Building Daddy's birthday present one slow day at a time.

 Target's 90% off post-halloween sale!

 Beach time. Justice is learning to swim and it is so beautiful.

 The hard work of cleaning the pack n play when you draw on it with a marker.

 A BEAUTIFUL sculpture we WON at a recent fundraising event we attended for The Pregnancy Center in Kona. The sculpture is called Keiki Honu, and it is easily the most beautiful non-living thing in our home.

 Lots of blocks these days, with both kiddos.

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Learning how to Talk about God

I had the opportunity, with a little help from family and friends, to join the Point Loma Center for Pastoral Leadership “Holy Conversations” event the last weekend of Oct. I was excited to interact with a few people I know – but have never met – and join a conversation that highlighted two things: generational perspectives on our place within the denomination (with an emphasis on the millennial generation); and our changing understanding of holiness and the church. And perhaps I will share a few thoughts from this event at another time.

But the story I want to share did not happen during this event, but rather on the way to it. I’ve been teaching a class on “Declaring the Gospel of God” for those called into ministry from our church. I’ve tried to teach this class with an eye toward the every day. The way we eat, practice justice, talk with our neighbors, show compassion, organize our daily routine, worship, and pray are all ways that Christians declare the Good News of God. In short, declaring the gospel of God is an everyday practice that involves the very mundane acts of life. And Christians practice these things publicly, for the world to see (what we call ‘witness’). But I should add, we share about God’s work in our life, putting words to our faith, not to persuade others, but because we can’t speak the truth of our own life without talking about God. As Thomas Long puts it:

At the most profound level, Christians talk about faith because it is a truly human act to want to tell the truth…Christians believe that we cannot tell the truth, not the whole truth, without talking about God, and if we cannot tell the whole truth, we cannot be fully alive as human beings.

Christians talk about God because we can’t talk about ourselves without talking about God. So here’s an example. I was staying at a hotel downtown and thought that I’d save money by taking the bus. Except my plans were disrupted from a missed flight in San Francisco which put me in my hotel room in San Diego just before 1am. I woke up at 4am Hawaii Time (7am in California) in order to get ready on time. I was tired, running late, and wasn’t interested in learning to navigate a new public transit system. So, I hailed a cab. 

A tall slender man welcomed me into his world. And while I couldn’t make out exactly where his accent was from, I knew it wasn’t from San Diego. So I asked where he was from, and he told me Ohio (I was also certain his original home was not Ohio). We made small talk. I told him I was a pastor visiting an event planned by Point Loma Nazarene. He said I looked too young to be a pastor (I get that a fair amount). And then we arrived at my destination. I hadn’t asked him his name yet. I was actually hoping to finish browsing through the morning's news and relevant Facebook posts on the cab ride; so I introduced myself, shook hands, and got his name: Kareem.

I figured I would end up meeting someone at the event who could come the next morning to pick me up. I assumed I would not meet Kareem again, but I was thankful that I was able to contribute to a local person and profession that often has a hard time making ends meet. 

Well, apparently no one lives close to downtown and my plans for a ride were thwarted. And when I checked out the next morning for the last day of the event, Kareem was sitting in his cab outside my hotel. So I waved, opened the door, and said, “Good Morning Kareem.” A smile slowly stretched across his face. He called me John. After re-introducing myself, we began a nice a little conversation about halloween. About halfway through our short cab ride, Kareem made a simple statement:

“World is full of problems, isn’t it?"

Now, I’m not sure why he decided to say this. Maybe people intuit that pastors are especially aware of the world’s brokenness. Hopefully, people see how pastors draw close to people in times of suffering or grief. For whatever reason, Kareem decided to slightly steer the conversation in this direction.

“It sure is Kareem. Just this morning I read about an eight month old baby killed by the Israeli Defense Force by tear gas inhalation."

“Eight months old? That’s bad. That’s really bad. You know, in Islam we believe that God will bring judgment to this world."

And there it was. Simple. Everyday conversations can sometimes naturally flow in and out of a persons belief system. And that’s how it should be. Talking about God should be the easiest thing we do. But it should be noted, it’s not just Christians. Billions of people integrate a life of faith with life itself, where there exists no separation between one’s spiritual life and everything else. And, as a true Wesleyan, I believe God’s grace is present everywhere as we learn to be attuned to where God is already working. And when we learn to see God’s grace outside of the boundaries the church is notorious for constructing, sharing God’s life flows abundantly. 

“Kareem, Christians also believe that God’s judgment will come. For us, God grieves when people suffer – that suffering, pain, and hurt are not God’s will. And we see this as good news. There will come a day when God heals the world’s problems.” Kareem smiled a simple smile of recognition, perhaps even kinship. 

That’s all I said. We arrived at our destination. I asked him where he was from, and he told me Somalia. He asked if I had ever been to Africa. I was in Egypt five years ago. He knew that was close to the Egyptian Revolution and inquired about the timing of my visit and why I was there. So I was able to share that I was only there for a few days about 6 months before the Egyptian Revolution but I actually spent most my time in Palestine as a Christian peacemaker. 

I paid. We shook hands, and said goodbye. 

I like these holy conversations.

A New Reality, a Sad GoodBye

Many of you know that we moved to Kona two years ago after receiving a call from Pastor Ryan Fasani, a friend whom Eric had worked with in Nashville, TN. We didn't move to Kona for the Fasani's or apart from discerning God's direction for us, but knowing the Fasani family, their similar convictions as Christians, and our common hope for the church made moving a lot easier. Justice had instant friendships with Chenoah and Ahanu, and Eric had a theological dialogue partner and co-conspirator for living this radical thing we call the Gospel. We had anticipated this relationship to not only ground us in Kona for the long term, but also provide the germination of a community of disciples committed to one another in grace, love, and practice.

About three weeks before we left for furlough, Pastor Ryan resigned as Pastor of Kona Coast Nazarene. The Fasanis chose to leave Kona to focus on their health as a family, and we continue to pray for them and KCN even in their absence.

But their absence is difficult for us. We have given in at times to fits of anger, overwhelming sadness, spontaneous tears, and all out weeping. We are at times confused, and wrestle with guilt at whether we contributed at all to this outcome. In short, the past summer has been a summer of grief. We are grieving the loss of close family friends; grieving that Justice won't be able to celebrate birthdays with Chenoah; grieving that we can't surf with Katahdin or play soccer with Ahanu; grieving the loss of such a close theological brother, and certainly grieving what could have been with Mission Kona Coast under Ryan's leadership.

Many have asked whether we will step in as Pastors of Kona Coast Nazarene. This is a legitimate question, as both of us are ordained elders in the Church of the Nazarene and have intimate knowledge and experience of our Mission and Vision for our mission zone and the broader Kona Coast.

The short answer is, No. We do not currently feel God leading us to assume the full responsibilities of Pastor. We very much feel that God is using us in our current role as Missionaries, afforded us the freedom to follow and pursue relationships in the community, and continue the work we have already begun in training local leaders for the future of the church on the Big Island. While our work connects deeply with the life of KCN, it is not dependent upon the lead pastor. Our work and ministry will continue, with your continued prayers and support, in the Mission Zone of North Kona.

Many have also asked about the future of Mission: Kona Coast. The truth is that we just don't know. Our District Superintendent, alongside our board, is going through the process of calling a new pastor. We hope and pray that he/she will have the gifts and passions that fit well into our unique culture and mission here in Kona. We know that the transition will bring changes, but we also trust that the work and culture the Fasanis began will continue through the discernment process for a new pastor.

Please keep us and our church ohana in your prayers as we commit to the health of our community during this transition. Mahalo.

Home

We're home!

As Eric mentioned, furlough was hard. Many missionaries we know choose to have a longer "home assignment" of 5-6 months.  We have lived in Hawaii for two years, and this was our first trip back to the mainland as a family. Our trip was five weeks, and we packed that month full. We flew over 9,000 miles and drove another 4,000 miles. Our travel days were long (and frequent), and our two littlest travelers found it hard to be strapped to a seat day in and day out. They met more people than they wanted to (about week 2, Justice said, "I can't remember any more names") and missed home like crazy. We spoke to 20 groups and over a thousand people.

But furlough was good. Life-giving, restorative, and encouraging. We told stories of how God is working, where God is leading, and transformation we are witnessing. We met with other missionaries and church planters. We shared our struggles. We were honest about the work God is doing in our own home. We shared our hope for the future.

We were met with loving and caring individuals. People who are praying for us daily. People who can relate, and people who can't. People who have advice, and people who want to hear more. People who were encouraged to hear and see God's movement. People who were challenged by God's call in their present location. People who want to be a missionary-people in their communities. We are so encouraged by the conversations that began.

And in the midst of that, we visited with our families. We were blessed to see the relationships between our kids and our parents come to life. Relationships we've fostered over FaceTime and Skype, but didn't know what they would look like in person. We were grateful for our kids to play with their cousins, and their aunt/uncles. And we were giddy to hug our own brothers/sisters.

Furlough Update: Ministry Scholarships

Our family left Kona on June 23. We're now in our fifth week of traveling, sharing the Good News of what God is doing in Kona. And, in complete honesty, it's been so hard! This is our first trip back to the mainland since moving to Hawaii two years ago. Micah was born in Hawaii, and is only 18 months old. Justice is a child of routine and rhythms and does well if those lay undisturbed. Well, furlough disturbs every routine. And we are excited about returning to Kona next week. 

Furlough is a time for us to reconnect with family and friends, share our story with our supporters, and fundraise for years 3 and 4 of ministry. We've been sharing how God is raising up local leaders to lead the church in Hawaii. We believe that the work God is doing is going to be continued by those who have grown up in Hawaii, who can connect and guide other locals into God's story of redemption. We've been sharing about our work to re-imagine a culturally appropriate model of training local pastors in an oral culture and that we've started teaching classes this past January. We have 4 people from our congregation discerning a call into ministry. This is Good News!

But we are at a disadvantage because of our geographical isolation. All the pastor fellowships, continuing education, District retreats, and District Assemblies take place on a different island. These are valuable times of gathering for pastors to be inspired, to learn, to form needed relationships/friendships, and to stave off isolation. We want our ministry students to experience at least one of these gatherings each year as they work toward ordination.

This is why we are fundraising in part to offer 'scholarships' for each ministry student that would cover various resources and travel expenses to aid in their development and discipleship. We have 5 scholarships set at $370 a piece. If you are interested in sponsoring one (or more) of these scholarships, let us know! We'd love to talk to you and share a little bit more. Scholarships will still be funneled through the "North/Central Kona Mission" account fund at www.easytithe.com/kcn. Thank you for your continued support!

Polima Lopez's Testimony

Each month, I (Eric) gather with a group of people discerning a call into ministry to teach a course on "Declaring the Gospel of God." The class focuses on uniting Biblical story-telling with personal narrative; learning to share how our story falls into the scope of God’s story of redemption and communion. I must say, this is one of my favorite parts of the month. Never have I gathered with people who are so interested to learn, compelled to share, and eager to question. It's incredibly refreshing, and I am quite simply blessed to be leading this small cohort. 

The class represents the beginning of an answer to prayer. Namely, we have been praying for God to call local leaders to guide the church into the future. For a church that has, in the last 40 years, never planted a church or had someone carry through to vocational ministry, and now to have 5 in the last year speak of their call to ministry points only to God's grace beginning to move. Praise God!

Once a month, we clear space for these students to share their Testimony. This past week, Polima Lopez, our worship minister and a second generation Samoan-American, shared her story during the sermon moment. I wanted to share a little of that story with you: 

The fact that I'm standing in front of you today should be testimony enough. I would not have been able to stand here three years ago, but only by the grace of God. Many of you already know some of my struggles. A couple of years ago I believed the convictions of what others said about me, but now I understand that I am a daughter of God. All of the stories growing up wanted to claim me. I didn't know who I was, and so I struggled with my identity. I am a Samoan who grew up in Hawaii. American culture conflicts with being Samoan. The way we talk, our customs, our food, our language is different. And on top of that, my Dad is a Pastor, and so you can throw in religion too. These cultures clash and I was confused. I didn't know how I was supposed to think or act. I grew up thinking I was wrong. But I stand before you now to say, like Paul in Ephesians, that the old is gone and the new has come. I've been through a lot, searching for who I am and I've come to know this: God's grace embraces me, and I'm now able to embrace it.

I think this is a beautiful testimony; It is Limah's story of how God's grace has connected with her – changed her. We all struggle with Identity. We are all shaped by a multiplicity of stories that shape us. I can't connect with being Samoan, but I can connect with the cultural clash between growing up in American culture and my identity as a Christian. I inherit a story from my family: I grew up in Richmond, VA, a middle child of two white conservative evangelical parents. In this simple sentence recounting my past, you can begin to understand a little bit of my story…There’s the story of political allegiance, my parents were conservative, attached to the Republican party. I grew up in the South, which produces pictures of tobacco and cotton fields, deciduous trees, and southern comfort food (sausage and gravy). And I inherited a particular religious story: an evangelical faith. Each of these are various stories that interact and play with one another to form a confusing and muddled story that is my life. I have begun to understand how each has shaped me, though I have struggled with which defines me.

Each of us at some point choose whether to trust these stories that shape who we are, or whether to trust a different story, a story marked by the cross and resurrection. When we choose to trust a different story, to allow our life, the stories we’ve inherited, to be shaped by the story of Jesus found in Scripture and the Church, we call it faith. And we believe that those stories are worth telling. 

This past Sunday was Pentecost Sunday. Pentecost is the day that the church remembers the gift of the Spirit that remains with us. It is the day that all the people of Jerusalem stood in confusion hearing their own language from Galileans. In a way, Christ's presence through the Spirit indeed confuses. It ought to confuse and confound our identity so that we may come to a posture that Limah has embraced, God's grace for us, a beloved of God. Emmanuel Katongole puts it like this:

"Christian faith is fundamentally about identity – who we are as embodied people. In Africa as in America, there is a multitude of powers and stories that try to define who we are: the color of our skin, the nation of our birth, the history of our culture, or the characteristics of our tribe. But when I baptize someone into the church of Jesus Christ, I see that God is making a claim on their bodies. Are they still black? Are they still white? Are they still Rwandan? Are they still American? Perhaps. But there is a real sense in which our identity gets confused (mixed up) with Christ's identity in baptism. Who we are becomes (or at least ought to become) confused and confusing to others." 

May the work of Spirit continue to un-confuse our past identity, placing us safely in the identity of Christ, so that Christ in us may continue to confuse all other identities.