Volunteerism

The weather is changing. We think. For the better. Our last few days have featured cold morning temps, clear skies and spectacular views of snow-covered mountains in all directions. It is not hard to like Juneau, whatever the weather...though some weather options are preferable to others.

The morning temps and clear skies and spectacular views of snow-covered mountains in all directions (see above) also caused me to acknowledge the approaching closing of this school year. My substitute teacher skills will not be required over the summer months. I'm fine with that.

But the question hit me, "What to do with the time?"

I have a church to gather. This is my motivation to get out of bed each morning. There is plenty to do and lots of people to meet. And I am encouraged in the growth taking place in our midst. Truth be told, I myself am growing through this journey and process.

But I will have other hours to devote myself to meaningful pursuits, apart from church stuff, but connected all the same this summer.

Deb came home from UAS (the University of Alaska Southeast, where she is gainfully employed), with an idea - that we give some volunteer hours serving the Juneau Convention & Visitors Bureau. These seasonal volunteers greet visitors (arriving to the airport, ferry terminal or on the many cruise ships) and dispense information related to the many (and I mean many) tourist activities (meaning ways to spend money) available in our fair city. I applied online, and was accepted. With some training and some "familiarization tours" (doing  the fun stuff for free) I should be good to go. And as it is, it appears I meet the requirements:

1. Friendly, outgoing personality - ENTJ on the Myers -Briggs (unintentionally causing fear in all introverts.) Check!
2. Must be 18 years or older - Check! Decades beyond Check!
3. Ability to communicate comfortably and articulately - I assume in English. Check!
4. Ability to work well with a team or individually - I assume that means with Deb. Check!
5. Reliable - Check! (Where's the Boy Scout motto when I need it?)
6. Punctual - I don't sleep through the night anymore anyway, so Check!
7. Enthusiastic - for this city? Who wouldn't be? Check!

This will be fun! And it will be entertaining to greet people wearing their University of Wherever in the Midwest sweatshirts while sporting fishing hats from Ketchikan and bags from the T Shirt Factory as they ask where they can see bears.

I'll just send them over to my neighborhood. For free.

Radiant

Deb and I relocated to Juneau, Alaska just over a year ago. Juneau has become home...and a vacation cruise destination for several of our continental friends. There are days when it all still seems so new, and other days when it feels like it's always been. We love being here.

I came to "plant" (start) a new church in Juneau. We have a small but growing band of people who now identify with us as a community on mission. One obstacle, I've been planting the Church with No Name. For what ever the reason (see below) I've wanted to be slow, cautious, thoughtful and prayerful about what to call this new thing. But a year is a bit of a while to go without a name, without an identity.

I have history with naming churches. I did so in 2005. What I really did was give a church a name that was difficult to pronounce, challenging to explain, and made us sound like a Latino fellowship. (Problem was, I only speak Taco Bell Spanish.) Admittedly I regretted our (my) name for this church within the first year. To their credit, and after Deb and I left town they changed the church's name. For the better, I might add. All this to say, I don't necessarily have the highest confidence in my ability to name a church. Naming our own children had the safeguard of being a group decision.

Planting a church is challenging enough. It has been statistically quoted that 80% of church plants fail within the first year; and 80% of those remaining fail within the second year. Not high odds. To attempt to plant a church isolated from relational connections and accountability and outside wisdom is playing recklessly with those already high odds. I came to realize we needed to be connected, associated with someone or something more established, but someone or something that loves and is invested in gospel mission to Alaska and the circumpolar north.

As Jesus-followers we revel in the knowledge we have been graciously adopted as children of the King. And now we've been adopted by another church. Radiant Church in Fairbanks is a church of gospel communities on intentional mission. In many ways they are what we want to be when we grow up. We want to share in their collective identity. Radiant is freely offering their resources, their intellectual capital, their friendship, their sacrifice and their hearts to us. We are not Radiant Church's first church plant, but we are Radiant Church's first church plant to take their name.

We now have an identity here in Juneau and Southeast Alaska. We are Radiant Church Juneau. And like Psalm 34:5 says, Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed. 

We are Radiant. With no Spanish language skills required.

Homegoing

Our neighbor, Gary died on Saturday. He had been bravely fighting cancer. Gary had served in Vietnam where he was exposed to Agent Orange.

Gary and his wife had been waiting, a long time waiting for confirmation that Gary would be eligible for V.A. benefits related to Agent Orange exposure. Gary had been concerned that he might die before this confirmation, concerned for his beloved wife's future without him.

Deb and I were called very early Saturday morning. Gary had endured a bad night. His lungs were filling with fluid, and he was struggling for each breath. It was my privilege to read Psalms to him, to pray for him, and to express the assurance of hope we have in Jesus to Gary's wife and sisters.

At 1:15 on Saturday afternoon Gary's wife received the phone call she had been waiting and hoping for. A number of people including one of Alaska's U.S. Senators had taken Gary's case on as a priority. As a result the V.A. had granted Gary the news he wanted to hear. And Gary took his last breath at 1:30.

Deb and I were called back and arrived at 1:35. Gary was gone, though his shell of a body remained. He was no longer in pain, no longer suffering, no longer worried for his wife.

It was my privilege to be present when Gary made a profession of faith in Jesus about a month ago. Gary had asked me over that day because he was concerned he had not done enough to get to heaven. I told him he was right. He hadn't done enough; nor had I; nor had anyone else. But it was my joy that day to explain to Gary that it wasn't and isn't ever about what we do, but about what Jesus has already done. Gary believed, and said so. And Gary is now home with the One who loved and loves him enough to have done through Jesus what Gary himself could not do. Enough to be enough.

God expressed His grace to Gary by releasing him from his suffering and calling him home, to really live. God expressed His grace to Gary's family by giving the encouragement of V.A. benefits; more importantly the profession of Gary's faith. And God expressed His grace to me by letting me be present, to celebrate Gary's homegoing.

Failure to Represent

I recently had an eight-day gig subbing in a high school biology class. I've had these classes and these students before. I know them and they know me, only to the extent a substitute teacher can know and be known. I've learned that being quick with a quip (and bribing them with Jolly Ranchers on Fridays) helps to get these kids on my wavelength. These kids seem to like anyone who likes them.

The biology teacher was called away to attend to family matters out of state. She had other things on her mind during her departure and absence. While normally very organized and a thoughtful planner, she did not leave behind teaching notes or a curriculum plan this time around. I was forced to fake it.

Trying to be resourceful I made contact with other science teachers in the school building. I also reached out (i.e. begged for help) to a biology-teaching friend in the Seattle area. I received help, resources and some empathy. I was able to advance the students through their textbook chapters. I helped them conduct two hands-on labs. I did assign homework due dates, but did not burden them with exams. I even had some school administrators ask if they should remove the word "substitute" from my ID badge, though I'm not sure how that would have helped. A coffee cup and an assigned parking space would be nice.

But over the course of those eight days I experienced a downturn. I found myself wearing my self-pity like a blanket. I was resentful over not having enough time to work on "my" church plant, though admittedly this was all of my own doing. I was resentful my assignment required so much prep time. I was resentful over not having enough time to eat lunch.

And I blew it. I revealed my self-pity to too many people; and revealing this to even one person was one person too many. Instead of representing my King with optimism, flexibility, patience and the altruism only a child of the King can display, I instead displayed a primary concern for self, like any idol-worshipper who sees himself as the center of his own universe.

I failed to represent. And I came to realize this when staff people started asking me if "I was okay." And I was humbled. And I repented to my King. And I was reminded again that being a pastor (okay, being a Christ-follower) requires a commitment to grace even when not on the pastoral clock. And I learned again - I need the gospel preached to my own heart - every day.

(thanks, Pat Costello for the cool photo)

Snow Machine

I often portray our Alaskan life as idyllic. It really is. We love it here. But life happens here too. People, even Alaskans are people. Once in a while we're reminded of just this reality.

Two nights ago we were awakened at 3:30am to the not-so-idyllic sounds of a snow machine (not a "snow mobile," you southerners) being started up (after many failed and futile attempts.) This lasted for 20 minutes or so. We were not amused. I was tempted to go downstairs and outside to "address" my lack of amusement with said perpetrator. I did not have a speech polished, but my internal threat vocabulary was dominated with the words "disembowel" and "fillet."

The following morning I saw the fellas outside attempting to free the evil snow machine from a nearby ditch. I went outside (mind, with no weapons on my person) to make inquiry. I asked the young perpetrator what had happened. He told me he did not remember. The other guys offered me no eye contact. So I adapted my method to offering statements to which my young perp could respond. I wanted to aid his memory.

He got drunk (nightly event, so not difficult to ascertain.) He had a fight with his girlfriend (again, not difficult to ascertain.) His anger resulted in his misguided idea that firing up the snow machine at 3:30am and going for a death ride was his best option. This then resulted in his promptly depositing said snow machine in a nearby ditch (another advertisement for "Don't drink and drive.")

I suggested he had perhaps not considered the impact his choices and actions had on the entire neighborhood. I suggested that being drunk, dumb and narcissistic was/is not necessarily a strong life's plan. I explained how a man is different from a boy old enough to shave. And I encouraged him to do a "manly" thing; go to each of our neighbors and apologize. Because real men accept responsibility and own up to their less than savory actions.

But in this exchange something happened in me. My anger and desire to wreck emotional damage was replaced with compassion; God-inspired compassion. I began to see this kid, this boy as lost. A lost lamb.
And in this I recognized yet another event God is using to reform my heart. My heart needs continual reformation. And maybe my desire to be priest and pastor on our street will require my being a father figure to some.

Later in the day I saw my young neighbor begrudgingly making his way to a couple of front doors. He has not yet made his way to all of our neighbors (I told him I would be following up) but he was making the attempt.

No one got filleted or disemboweled. Deb and I enjoyed our gospel community gathering last night, and then slept well. And I'm not quite so motivated to be the neighborhood strong arm.

Roller Coaster

Life is more than simple sustained breathing. Life is people, events and circumstances that change constantly, even for those who doggedly avoid change. Some may say "successful living" is the art and science of being consistent in the face of inconsistencies, and certain in the midst of uncertainties. I would say that consistency and certainty are dependent upon what (Who) that consistency and certainty is founded.

The life of this church-planter, or any church-planter for that matter is one of changes, some expected, some not. For anyone in this profession, or anyone related to someone in this profession, life can feel like a roller coaster. More likely it is living as a kite in God's hurricane. Just in the past month I have experienced both the incredible highs and gut-wrenching lows that are part and parcel to starting a church; all of it good, some of it challenging. Blessed my God loves me enough to continue reforming my heart.

My wife caught a cold. She gave it to me. My health caused me to regretfully cancel a couple of Sunday night gospel community gatherings and lose some "momentum." We both recovered. Then I caught the same (or a different) cold, and gave it to Deb. The gift that keeps on giving this has become. Blessed, I guess.

We've learned recently some people we thought (okay, hoped) would be a part of our initial core community will not be. We also learned recently our dear friends who have walked with us in these initial church-planting days will be regrettably relocating out of town. To borrow a British term, I was and am "gutted," but riding on the roller coaster requires staying in one's seat, and rolling with the punches. Blessed to know Who keeps me upright in the seat.

And...there are high's too. We just enjoyed a long weekend with our daughter and son-in-law. We crammed as much fun as possible into four days together. We love them and loved our time with them. For us it was the first time guests have come to Juneau to see us, not simply passing through on a cruise ship port of call. Deb and I got to be parents in person. Juneau showed herself well. So blessed we are!

I've been surprised (if not astounded) by interest expressed by two different fellas in what we're doing here in Juneau. Both overtures came to me from out of the blue...or directly from the hand and heart of God. And our Tuesday morning "Man School" continues on with guys who continue to be interested and faithful.

This very morning the prayer gathering at the Capitol Building didn't happen. It was rescheduled, to yesterday, and I was out of the loop. Instead, God had me make acquaintance with two nice ladies (who were also out of the loop.) We shared our hearts for Jesus and for Alaska. We stood and prayed in the Capitol lobby. I left encouraged. And unexpectedly blessed.

All of it, highs and lows, are good things; blessings. Blessed to be on the roller coaster. Blessed to know and trust Who keeps me in the seat on the roller coaster, especially when I cannot see the highs and lows yet around the next church-planting corner.

Looking Forward through the Rear View Mirror

Admittedly I've used this same title for first-of-the-year sermons in years past. In doing so it has been my intention to acknowledge my own past faith failures and God's past faithfulness to form and inform a prognosis for the next new year.

For me, there remain two yearly start-up times. September (the school calendar) seems to hit me as the time to pick up the pace and hit everything hard. In my case, September is the "don't think; just do" season. January, on the other hand comes with the kind of quiet reflection that mid-winter seems to bring many of us. Somehow, it's like looking forward through the rear view mirror. Faith borne from gratitude.

Without question, 2012 was a year of transition and high adventure for our family, perhaps unlike anything we have experienced to date. We witnessed the weddings of both our son and daughter. Never would we have anticipated our children's nuptials taking place within the same year, let alone within a calendar month. Admittedly, witnessing a son or daughter, (in our case son and daughter) being wed was for me akin to an out of body experience, like "is this really happening?" I was reminded this past year just how fast time flies. And all of the rumors of weddings being expensive are true.

Our two family weddings allowed us to reconnect with long-time friends and family (also long-time I suppose) in two states. I was reminded again of the ties that bind.

This past year Deb and I also left what we'd known as familiar for the unfamiliar. We relocated from Everett WA to Juneau AK, without jobs, without guarantees, and without universal approval. After 19 years in the same Puget Sound locale we left and went because we both felt we were "supposed to" leave and go. How gracious has our God been to allow us never to waver in our sense of calling or in our joy of calling this new place home.

It would be easy to say we "accomplished" some things; but the truth is, everything gained has been graciously given to us. Housing, and growing friendships in our own neighborhood;  a perfect job for Deb at the University; a new gig to fill my daytime hours subbing in the school district; an ever-widening circle of relationships; the beginnings of a core (perhaps several cores) of people who want to learn what it is to be a gospel-motivated community on mission together; and churches and individuals who believe in what we're doing enough to support and encourage our church-planting work here.

And this doesn't even speak to how we get to live in what is regarded as one of the most beautiful places on earth. (1.2 million annual cruise ship passengers can't be wrong!)

Eleven months in, Juneau is home. Juneau is mission field. We have been humbled by and astounded over God's faithful provision, which includes vision. How could we step into this fresh new year without commensurate humility and astonishment?

(And thanks, Joel Abbott for the photo!)