I know it’s no different than anyone else who converts to Christ-followerness. Supernaturally, through the blood sacrifice and resurrection of Jesus, we have become co-heirs and have responsibilities that go way beyond “take care of the earth” stuff. I mean, that’s a no brainer. Every one knows that if we don’t take care of the earth, we will suffer the consequences – we are suffering the consequences of wrong doing throughout the ages and what we do now will affect those who go behind us. Here in Vienna, the state has done a pretty impressive job of that. It’s nice to breath clean air and for many people to have jobs.

But, I’m starting to understand better about how God wants something more. More than good behavior here on earth. He wants heaven on earth. He wants to be reconciled to his creation. That’s why Jesus came: to make it possible for God to call his children home once and for all.

All Christians have something called a ministry. I used to think this meant official church good deeds, but I’m starting to get that it’s how Christ-followers act like Christ every day. We show and remind people what our God is like and how He wants the world to love Him as much as he loves us. Man, if we only understood…

I read the story of Jonah for the thousandth time Sunday night. I was praying for a two friends who have created a rift between each other, for A. because his mother died, for N. in Haiti, for a church going to South Africa, and for the people who came to my house on Friday… so I was only half reading. But then the end of the story caught me. You know, the end of the story that everyone forgets because it’s after the ticker-tape parades in the city that God spared.

Jonah’s sitting there expecting the city to be destroyed, even after they repented from their oppressive and corrupt ways, because Jonah didn’t like them and he wanted God to take them off the map. They were morally repugnant to him. Plus, he was really annoyed because there wasn’t much vegetation where he went to watch the show of Nineveh’s demise. God made a tree for Jonah’s comfort, but God sent a worm to take away the tree the next day so Jonah wasn’t comfortable. (I sometimes wonder why God did that – to give a tree for comfort and then a worm to destroy that comfort. There’s a tree motif throughout the scriptures that’s a little complex for me sometimes.)

But, then God asks his reluctant prophet, “‘Is it right for you to be angry about the plant?’ ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘It is right. I’m angry enough to die.’”

“So the Lord said, ‘You cared about the plant, which you did no labor over and did not grow… Should I not care about the great city of Nineveh, which has more than 120,000 people who cannot distinguish between their right and the left, as well as the animals?’” – End Book

God really cared about the people of Nineveh and he was annoyed by this guy who knew the scriptures, knew God and yet didn’t understand God’s heart. He wanted to spare them, but He also knows what evil can do to his world and was willing to do what it takes to bring balance in the world – even if that means ending lives. Sometimes, I want God to send a lightening bolt after the last sentence to teach Jonah a lesson about insensitivity, but then I realize that I’m a little like Jonah for thinking that.

God wants to show his mercy to the earth. The Bible says that, “creation waits with anticipation for God’s sons to be revealed.” And it also says that we will be revealed by our love.

So, my job here on this earth is: to aid in the discipleship of people into sons and daughters of God who are known and tested by acting like Him. The best way to do this is to openly live out my own transformation and to explain the teaching of Christ that promoted the the changes and pray that this Spirit would indwell in our hearts and change us from the inside out. I think I’ll do that best by doing what I already do, but with a more defined underlying purpose, and take things to the next level when I get the opportunity. Like, I really what to start a new Bible study with some of the people I’ve met lately who are agnostic or whatever, but are interested in Jesus – and I think it’s because they get that creation is longing for Something.

—————

Am I becoming more:
loving
joyful
peaceful
Patient
kind
faithful
gentle
self-controlled?

Because of God’s work, I think I am. But after watching Francis Chan’s video about the persecuted church I am more than ever convinced that this is all that my life truly comes down to. My singing may be enjoyable, but only valuable if if points to joy in Christ. My writing may be enlightening, but only if it points to faithfulness and peace with Christ. I want my life to be a reflection of Christ, the redeemer of the world, so that others will come to him and be spared from the falling apart of this world and come to God now and for eternity.

If a church starts with over 5000 people, is it a church plant?  I’m sure this is dabbling in semantics and wordplay, but I do see a difference between planting a church with a core team of about ten or twenty people and starting a church that runs an attendance of 1000+ the first day.  The difference isn’t so much in the numbers for me; it’s in how it all begins.  And hooray! we have biblical precedents.

Now when they heard this they were cut to the heart, and said to Peter and the rest of the apostles, “Brothers, what shall we do?” And Peter said to them, “Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you and for your children and for all who are far off, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to himself.” And with many other words he bore witness and continued to exhort them, saying, “Save yourselves from this crooked generation.” So those who received his word were baptized, and there were added that day about three thousand souls. And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. [Acts 2:37-42, ESV]

Three thousand people decided to follow Christ after Peter’s sermon, and immediately began exhibiting the actions we consider the foundation of a church: devotion to the apostles’ teachings and to each other, eating and praying together. On that day, the Church in Jerusalem was planted (eventually led by James until his martyrdom, but that’s another story). Paul, on the other hand, took three missionary journeys and Luke (the author of Acts) records something like thirty cities across the eastern Roman Empire. In none of those cities do we hear of thousands responding to the Gospel in the way we saw in Jerusalem. Most of the churches planted by Paul were very small, sometimes just a handful of people.

So in the book of Acts, there are two types of church plants. The shared identity in both is that they started with new believers. In some cases Paul encountered believers, and he gathered them together with new believers. Peter’s believers were already gathered (and maybe questionable to consider Peter their pastor, anyway).

Open discussion time:

• What do you see as the difference between church planting and church starting?
• Are Peter and Paul church planters or does their apostleship make them more?
• What can we conclude from the Peter-to-James handover of the Jerusalem Church?
• Does any of this even matter?  Am I just getting caught up in words?
• Any other thoughts?

Go at it.

Last year I made a series of posts on Missional-Incarnational and Evangelistic Attractional Church ministry. Ultimately, I ended up conceding that there is a time and place for both sorts of ministry, but that Missional-Incarnational ministry influences the latter.

I have decided to create a brief follow-up series to last year’s series as a way of working out the practical elements of missional thinking, living and ministry. This comes from another year full of researching and of doing the hard work of starting a missional church.

Missional Made Practical:

• Missional: A Primer
• Missional Thinking (or, “All I ever needed to know about missional church planting, I didn’t learn in seminary 3 years ago.”)
• Missional Living (or, “Oooohhh… so that’s how you do it!”)
• Missional Ministry (or, “Uhh, yeah, we’re a missional church… I think.”)

Then I quickly said, “if I weren’t a Christian, I mean, if I weren’t in the ministry full time.”

And I knew at that exact moment that somewhere along the way, I’d missed something. I’d just said I’d rather not be doing what I am doing now, and that I could think of something I had more passion for.

Huge. How many times have I heard someone say, “If you think you could be doing something else right now, you should go now, and do that, and leave the ‘full-time’ ministry.”? Plenty. And I always agreed with the statement, and acknowledged that indeed, this was what I am called to do for the rest of my life, without question. But I could easily ask, “What counts as full-time ministry?” If it’s a pastorate, then I already admit it’s probably not for me. So what is?

I know I’m called to “full-time” ministry. I doubt that I have the same definition of most people (maybe they’d surprise me, who knows?), but I know that for me, I cannot seem to do anything else. I followed everything up, in my conversation with the church planter, by explaining that I intended to sort of mix ministry and travel, since I had an intense passion for missions (global and not). I said that it was my desire to mobilize people (in particular, college students) to see the world, and in doing so see the need for us to take Christ to all we visit. And I’ll be honest, that means with medicine, food, shelter, construction crews, diplomatic workers, and anybody we can go with. To help as many people as we can before we die.

Tonight I was telling one of my friends about St. Francis Xavier, the Catholic missionary to East Asia. He took Christianity to Japan, and before it was eradicated (literally exterminated) from the islands, there were Christian samurai and peasants alike. My friend said that Xavier was insane. I responded, “EXACTLY.” The conversation went a little something like this:

HIM: he’s insane

ME: EXACTLY

HIM: which is the point of loving like Jesus did. love so much that ppl think you’re crazy. not really a bad idea.

ME: it’s what i’m going for…

You know, I get that I’m known for being blunt. I know that I’m especially renowned among certain Baptist bloggers for being to the point and often harsh. I don’t mind calling out those who’ve already been called out by God. I have very little patience for Christians who don’t act like them. And I have less for those who claim Christ but completely deny Him by their lifestyles (Kevin Bussey is doing a wonderful job hounding one such group). But I want to be known for more than just a sharp tongue.

I want my friends to tell their friends, “I know Joe Kennedy, and he’s the craziest son of a b**** I know. He’ll go anywhere and meet anyone.” I want to change the world; I want to show the world what it means to love God and love people. I don’t care if I’m famous, but I want those who know me to see me as an example of how to live as a Christian, not as someone with the knowledge to live right and no actions to have ever lived it out. When I die, I want my friends to gather at my funeral and say, “It was a good death…” and mean it.

We were allowed to go. That’s why we went. It’s that simple, and it’s just as complex. I could tell you all the reasons we went- the lack of a substantial Christian witness in Village S, among the Buryats, and throughout Siberia. To go to an extreme location. To see people God created- on the other side of the world. To help the team over there. To provide relief for our brothers and sisters. To experience the mission of Christ. All legitimate reasons. All good reasons. All REAL reasons.

But we went for the kids. Village S has a large orphanage and school, and many kids come from surrounding villages during the summer when the Buryat team holds its week long camp. The last couple years it’s been Olympics-themed. About a hundred kids came in, some from Village S, others from the surrounding villages, every morning to spend the day learning English and singing songs, making crafts and getting art lessons, and playing some wicked sports out on the field where cows previously roamed.

These are among the first generation of kids born outside the reign of the Communist Soviets. Where the state was god and Shamanism was practiced quietly in the shadows, there was no Christ. But now there is freedom. These kids have freedom. No longer are they forced to eradicate religion from their lives. They have a choice. But they don’t know what their choices are. They do not see true Christianity- they barely see the Russian Orthodox Church outside of the larger cities- and those aren’t exactly next door. They have only as many choices as they are offered. And we brought a new one. A life of love, compassion, and community. I’ve told you about these kids before- some are abused and most boys will grow up to become alcohol-dependent. This is not a bright future. We were there to show the kids a different way of life. Even if it was only for a week.

This was part three of the Siberia Series.

1. Siberia: The Final Frontier…
2. Siberia: The People of Village S…
3. Siberia: Why We Went…

We often read or see the stereotype of the drunk Russian in the movies. Sadly, this is reality. There were nights when the local men would gather in the bed of a truck, pull up next to the school in an open field, and drink vodka while listening to loud music. (Let me explain- next to the school is a big blue building- it used to be a discotheque. The discotheque was actually built where the old Russian Orthodox church used to be. Sometime in the 50s it burned down, and they just built the disco on top of it. Now even that building is empty, and the cows that roam the town now congregate on its porch. [This led to my rendition of “Disco Cow” on several occasions.] Now back to the story.) Certainly not all adult men were alcoholics, but a good many were. As expected, there are cases of abuse. We heard that one of the kids who came to our English camp had been chained around his neck like a dog and kept in the yard. He had been beaten. I forget whether it was his father or his uncle who did it- in either case he was only six or seven, and he was one of the more violent kids we had. He stuck to himself most of the time, but when he did have interaction with the others, it usually involved violence.

Most of the families had gardens. We saw one man “mowing” his lawn with a scythe, and the land directly behind the school had already been planted. There were a lot of cows, and I was told that the large aluminum building at the edge of town used to be a dairy processing plant. I can’t say for sure. It also wasn’t unusual to see men on horses trotting through town, or horses grazing in fields.

One day we met a man who played guitar. He sang in his native Buryat language about spirits in the mountains. He praised the creator of the river and the mountains, but he did not know the Creator. I’ve said it before, but the majority of the people in Village S are Shamanists. When we were there in 2004, there were fewer than five Christians in the entire village, and that may not even be right- it could be fewer. Remember- the Russian Orthodox Church burned down during the Soviet era, and was never rebuilt. Jesus isn’t exactly on the radar.

I don’t want to paint this town as a horrible place to be, though. It’s got a lot of absolutely wonderful people, and some of the most beautiful views I’ve ever seen. They live differently than us. They don’t know Jesus and they have some vodka issues, but overall they live as Americans did around 1900. There were a lot of kids and they ran around a lot. Oh, and a week or so after we left Village S, the Buryat people held their version of Olympics- the Buryat games. Buryats from villages all over the region came together and competed against each other. One older teenager, Sasha, actually competed in the games, and my American friend went to see the games and capture it on video. [I wish I had a copy of that too, but I’m still waiting for my regular DVD. You know who you are, buddy- send that sucka.]

I do want to tell you about another man. Above is a picture of an older man standing on a hill, with a cane. He told us he was a descendant of the Cossacks- great horsemen who came from Siberia to the Causacus over the last couple thousand years. They were known as guards of czars, the greatest warriors in the Russian Empire. This particular man had broken his arm, but still shoveled all the dung out the back of his barn every day.

Again, don’t forget to click the image above to see a photoset of over 400 pictures from my week in Village S and the 13 day adventure. This was part two of the Siberia Series, and more will follow.

1. Siberia: The Final Frontier…
2. Siberia: The People of Village S…
3. Siberia: Why We Went…

In June 2004 I had the opportunity to travel to a village in southern Buryatia. I’ll call it “Village S” because those who currently work there have asked me to keep its name secure. Village S is about 30 miles north of the Mongolian border, and about a 5 hour drive from the large city of Irkutsk, which is the unofficial capital of Siberia. Our team of ten from the University of Mobile flew from Mobile through Memphis, Detroit, Amsterdam, and Moscow to Irkutsk before resting a couple hours and driving into the Sayan Mountains to Village S. On the drive in, we broke down, so our trip was extended to about a seven hour drive. We left Mobile at 6AM Central Time on a Friday and found ourselves in Village S around 1AM Irkutsk Time (14 time zones ahead). It was exhausting, but my strange sleep patterns aided me in jet lag recovery. Sleep was good that first night, even if it was on a couple stacked bed-pads.

Village S is pretty remote, by American standards. It’s located off a main road, which I think was the only paved road in town. There wasn’t any running water there, except for one spicket located near the school cafeteria and orphanage. There might have been more wells and spickets in other places, but the one pictured below is the only one I knew of. People from all over would fill barrels and drums full of cold spring water and take them back home. The water was good. You should know that. It was pure and it was cold and it was great. I waited a day after all my teammates got into it before I started drinking from it, just to see what would happen to them. Sneaky, cowardly, call me what you will, but I definitely didn’t want to get sick- our bathroom was an outhouse the cows daily attempted to enter. There were rules and concerns when entering the outhouse- don’t touch the walls, don’t fall over, don’t get trapped by cows, and don’t stay long. Good rules to live by.

Village S is nestled in the Sayan Mountains, and the view was gorgeous. To three sides were mountains- you could see they were pretty far away, but still massive in the skyline. Snow still capping them- how could anybody deny God in this place? The year before, in 2003, our UM team was banned from the river that flowed nearby. Every year a few people get caught in its current and drown. In 2003 a Shaman came to Village S and performed rituals to cleanse the river of its demons, so that no more people would die there. We got to see the river up close, and it’s pretty big. Not as big as the Mississippi, but it definitely had a current swift enough to keep me out of it. It had also eaten away at the hillside that I was standing on, and it was a good six or so feet below me. Easy to fall into, hard to get out. As I said before, Village S was nestled in the mountains- and on one side were rolling hills- all others saw mountains in the distance, and the river rushed through as well. Beautiful land. But it was dark- the people… the people lived without Christ.

This is just part one of the Siberia Series:

1. Siberia: The Final Frontier…
2. Siberia: The People of Village S…
3. Siberia: Why We Went…

I’m not sure if it’s just our house, the local CBS affiliate, or CBS, but the last couple weeks have been chock full of bad reception and weird blips in the shows (including the Iron Bowl, CSI, and Without a Trace). I could do without that. They came out and fixed it once, and my parents even went to digital cable. You’d think they would get better than that. But I’m not particularly impressed with CBS or ABC around Mobile. The ABC affiliate thinks people care about ACC football, once pre-empting a Nebraska-Penn State game (when they were both good) for some lame Florida State-Virginia game (when they weren’t good). Sometimes we want the better game, even though it’s not a local team. There’s never a good reason for some lame ACC game to be on in Alabama, anyway. It’s SEC or the best game on. It’s time for Mobile to get their own ABC affiliate and let Pensacola do their own thing.

I was going to do a series on “The Art of Worship” but my first post seemed to sum it up. All I could do is offer suggestions as to how one might be more creative. Really, I think I should leave that part up to you.

I want to write a series of letters to different people. The first one was going to be to Rosie O’Donnell, whose interview by Bob Costas on Larry King Live was wonderful. But I hesitated too long and now my words are gone. Perhaps Angela’s muse will find me and offer some help.

I miss my friends. It’s been two weeks since I got back from Canada. Three since I first embarked on the short adventure. It’s been since October workshops since I’ve seen Blaize. And nearing 2 months since I last saw Amy and Tiffany. It’s been about three months since Hurricane Katrina. A fourth of a year. How time passes.

I never really found a church home here in Mobile. I went to The Grove for a while, and it was good. But I never felt like it was home. They’re great folks. So to use the old breakup term, “it’s me, not you.” I asked my friend about a local Baptist church that has community groups, but she told me I can’t join one until January and none are meant for any “outward” purpose. At Edgewater, our UNO Community Group had a twofold purpose- to be community among ourselves, and then eventually begin the process of a church-plant at the University of New Orleans. Others met in other locations for the purposes of bringing locals in and eventually starting churches among those people. Apparently this is not a goal of this particular Baptist church here in Mobile. A shame, if you ask me. It’s good to build community, even if it’s somewhat artificial. It’s better to build a community of like minds with a purpose to lead others into a relationship with God through Christ, outside of the “evangelical” arena. But that might mean going out into the city. Now I’m just being unreasonable.

I look forward to Brent and Laura’s reception in Toccoa, Georgia in December. I haven’t seen Brent or Laura in what feels like forever.

I think I’m going to get two or three folks and try to start something down in downtown Mobile. Maybe not a homeless church like Hoot did through Edgewater, but maybe. I’m not out to go feed folks either. There are plenty of others who do that. Or they did when I was at the University of Mobile. But maybe I’ll find something. I’m not sure yet. It’ll have to be something easily passed on, because…

…the letter from Dr. Kelley at NOBTS says we might be able to move back in April now. The campus restoration is moving along quickly. That’s got me excited. Especially since Tiffany is moving down there soon and Amy will be back by January. Blaize has said he might be down there for next semester too. And those guys I talked to through NAMB Semester Missions haven’t called or emailed me in two weeks (and that was just one group, the others never even returned my emails). I know they’re busy, so no hard feelings, really.

I really have no idea where I’ll be tomorrow, much less next month or the next. Well, I know where I’ll be on certain dates. You can see those over on the right column below the clock. There’s a large part of that feeling of uncertainty that is exciting.

I might be able to go to Brazil this summer, and if Britt and I do go, we need two more teammates. We need one who can speak Portuguese or play a guitar (well). Or both. But one or the other would be nice. If this summer’s trip is cancelled, we’ll tentatively postpone it until the Summer of 2007. E-mail me, IM me, or call me if you’re interested.

I think by now I would be an unbelievably good Director of Missions for some church. I’m so humble when I say that too. But really, I’ve been a Community Missions intern, but I’ve got ideas for all sorts of missions, from local to continental to international. I mean that with all my heart. I was built for short-term support missions, and I know a lot of people who could use help internationally. And I think I’ve got a whole lot of ideas for the local missions, from finance workshops to homeless and transient ministries to small groups and church planting. Of course, the hard part is getting anybody to listen and offer their time, money, and hearts.

I want to offer my undying love for the people of Riverside Baptist Church in Denver, Colorado and their pastor Dr. Jim Shaddix for all they’ve done for me and for Edgewater Baptist Church. They’ve gone above and beyond. They are the living example of Acts 2:45. (And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need.) I cannot express my gratitude through words, except to say I pray I will return the gift if and when they are in need.

I saw Chicken Little in Canada, and it is hilarious. I saw The Legend of Zorro with Britt and a few of his youth the other day, and it wasn’t bad. (But not great either.) I saw another movie this semester with Britt and one of his youth a while back, but I don’t remember what it was. That probably tells you how exciting it was. Oh, it was some World War II movie about Americans in the Philippines or something. It wasn’t that bad. But it’s no Band of Brothers.

This is more than enough to post. I think I’ll quit now. I started typing at 11:01 PM central time.

If a brother or sister is without clothing and in need of daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and be filled,” and yet you do not give them what is necessary for their body, what use is that? (James 2:15-16)

I prayed. Amy said, “come with me, let’s go get something to eat,” and took off with him across the street to Bubba Gump’s. Tiffany yelled after her, “don’t go, he’s trouble!” and I rushed after Amy so she wouldn’t be alone. Clint followed a few steps behind. We stood in line at Bubba Gump’s and then just as we sat down, they kicked us out because of Bobby. They said he had come around a lot and bothered everybody all day long. So Clint got food though, courtesy of the folks at Bubba Gump, as Amy and I stood outside and Bobby went back to his corner.

Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins. (James 4:17)

Clint brought half his meal out to Bobby, who didn’t eat it. But on that corner we met Ali from Ghana, his friend in a wheelchair. We learned that Bobby was from Liberia. Later we met Testimony, his East African friend. They all sat on that corner and talked to us for a few minutes. Close to two hours after we got there, we hadn’t traveled more than three blocks from the car, and had done zero interviews.

I was looking forward to the interviews, because I have this whole personal philosophy of “anyone, anywhere, anytime.” I stole it from Southern Miss’s football slogan, but it works. Or, it did. But as I stood there in front of Bubba Gump, watching the people as they walked by- the guy who had the walker and seemed to have cerebral palsy, looking sheepishly like he wanted to cross the road; or the Bobby on his corner; or any one of the other random people walking by- I thought about that slogan. I thought about how that’s all it was- some pumped up slogan about evangelism or whatever.

And it’s like this. I can talk to rational, everyday, normal people… all day long. Seriously- anyone, anywhere, anytime. But then there are those who I can’t hear well, can’t understand, who aren’t rational, who go on and on about some random political issue native only to Liberia or Ghana or something, who rant and rave and get real good at it. And I freeze up. And I pray for them and wish them well, and tell them God Bless, and walk off. Sometimes I even feel good about it. (Not usually though; I’m a naturally melancholy and reflective kind of person.)

So Clint reminds me tonight of what Dr. Ortiz told us in Encountering the Biblical World. After he reconciles the gospel accounts of the disciples and Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem and the healing of the blind men, Ortiz explains: “That’s not even the point. The point is that we get so busy doing God’s work that we forget to DO God’s work. We completely miss the folks standing right there asking for our help.”

A refugee crosses the ocean to stay in the land of the free and begs for food. One night he meets a disciple of Christ, and says he is hungry. The disciple prays for the refugee and sends him on his way. “Be well fed and stay safe,” he says, but does nothing for him.

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25:37-40)