Make All Things New

Come and join us this Friday night!

A young man was killed near our church building last weekend.

Saturday night we setup for church at Richmond Hall in the Port Richmond section of Philadelphia. Finished up around 6:30 p.m. As I drove past the playground across the street, nothing was out of the ordinary. It looked like the beginnings of another typical night in the neighborhood. Sadly, what came later was anything but typical.

We arrived for worship the next morning completely unaware of anything tragic happening less than 100 feet away and merely 9 hours earlier. There are conflicting stories about the events but the end result is the same: a 21 year-old boy from the neighborhood is dead. He was shot and killed by an off-duty policeman in front of the playground. As I said, there are lots of different stories about how all this came to happened and I hate to speculate, so I won’t. Here’s the report from our local ABC station:

When I heard about this, I was settling in with my family after church. Got a text about it and read a brief news release. I asked myself, “How do you bring shalom to a situation you know nothing about, with people you don’t know and who may not care about what you have to offer them?” Thankfully, I didn’t have to spend too much time dwelling on that thought in the comforts of my home.

“Gonna go down there and check around” was the text from my good friend (pastor and co-laborer for the gospel) Rob Burns. My most excellent wife totally understood as I got up and left.

“How do you bring shalom in this situation to people you don’t know and who may not care about what you’re offering?” I thought to myself again. Then it struck me. “You enter in!”

We need not look farther than Jesus to see someone who entered into a world of pain where people didn’t know him and certainly most didn’t want what he was offering. Yet he came to bring shalom (in part at first) to the people. He did this by entering into their lives and sharing their pain, ultimately being rejected and killed so that we wouldn’t have to bear the wrath for our sin. That is true caring. That is true love.

I’m not saying that Rob and I do this perfectly like Jesus (hangout with us for a while and you will see our lives are marked by God’s grace, not our own accomplishments). But the Holy Spirit prompts us to be like Jesus (while conforming us more into his image) in our city.

So, we prayed, walked around the playground, talked with people, listened to people, talked to the police and just generally looked for ways we could help the people in our community. We tried to enter in.

I think the answer to loving your city, to serving it and bringing a foretaste of shalom to your city is simple but impossible. It’s simple in that it only requires you to go and enter into the lives of people around you. That really doesn’t take much (even if it may be uncomfortable sometimes). Besides, you are just following the leading of the Savior as he entered into this world.

However, it is impossible in that – on our own – we won’t seek the shalom of the city and we won’t enter into people’s lives until Christ has entered into ours. The gospel must first change us before we are propelled out on mission. It’s impossible because we can’t make that happen. It’s all God’s grace to us and through us so that we can be blessed and a blessing.

My question for all of us is: “If God has called you to himself, how is he sending you to spread shalom in your neighborhood?”

This month, Philadelphia Magazine released their list of the 50 Most Influential People in Philadelphia. It was an enjoyable read for me to find who are the people influencing culture, politics and the like. The magazine sought to list Philadelphia’s 50 most “powerful” men and women. They define power as “the ability to get things done (bills passed, jobs created, buildings built).” However, this year they broadened the their definition and came up with five areas of power: Transformational, Influencer, Institutional, Lifestyle and Willpower. The list is of names and accomplishments is quite fascinating. From state representatives to corporate VPs, the things people are doing in wielding their power for the city is impressive. Of course, there is one name absent from the list: Jesus. I know, I know that may sound crazy. I’m sure he wasn’t even considered as being a part of what is happening in hopes for prosperity and renewal of Philadelphia. Is it silly to see this as a huge oversight?

But I can’t be too upset about it or blame them. Look, I’m a believer, yet too often my life fails to reflect Christ as among the top 50 influential people in it. So I don’t point a finger, rather, I bend my knees and pray that God would continue to change me, my marriage, our family and our church into to more dependently reliant on Christ to show his power off in our city.

While Jesus may not know be recognized as among “Philadelphia’s 50 Most Influential”, there will be a day when all will recognize his power, influence and glory:

“God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 2:9-11)

There’s a guy in our neighborhood that is quite a sight to see (well, I guess there are quite few people in the neighborhood that are quite a sight to see — myself included on many occasions). This man is a crossing guard but he is oh so much more than a mere crossing guard. He wears the fluorescent yellow vest and guides the kids safely across the streets but to end there would not tell the full story. He also wears a radio that broadcasts the local police and fire activity and walks around as if he is a policeman. He looks out for suspicious people (often waiting to see if they will do anything illegal). When I have spoken with him, he talks with great authority as if he is the one who keeping the streets safe from crime and trouble. He does his job well to be sure, yet he does it with a bit of overconfidence that makes it humorous to observe. Just this morning I saw him single handedly stop a huge truck by raising his hand with all the authority of Moses parting the Red Sea. He really gets into his work!

Now, I don’t want to come down on this guy for doing a good job. We should all aspire to work with such vigor. All the same, it is funny to see someone act as though they are something they are not. His job is important and needed, valuable in and of itself yet he still pretends that he is really a policeman, acting as if that were the case. In the process, he seems a bit odd, even ridiculous.

I’ve heard Jerry Seinfeld say that “all men consider themselves as kind of a lower-level superhero.” As if we are really capable of doing things that we aren’t or we don’t have the authority to do. We tend to think we are better, greater and more important than we really are. In short we think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think (and we probably think too often of ourselves than we ought as well!).

In many ways, I’m no different then the policeman-wannabe-crossing-guard. I often think of myself as a better person than I really am. My heart grows proud because I do something good that would please God. Other times I think I am better than I really am because I actually served Jill without prompting. Or I think I am a better because I spend time teaching and praying with my children. While all of these are good things to aspire to be, they become idols when I place my worth and identity in them.

The truth is, if my identity is in my ability to do things to please God, I will ultimately come undone. If my identity is in being a husband to Jill, I will fail her and myself. And if my identity is my children or in being a parent, I will not “train them up in the way they should go.” Making any of these roles as my ultimate identity is in many ways no different from the crossing guard pretending he is really a policeman. On my own, by my own merit, I am unable to please God, love my wife or raise my children. If I make any of those roles my ultimate identity, I am set on a course for failure, disappointment and pain because I am trying to make something I am not define who I am.

But this does not lead me to despair. Because while I struggle with my natural desire to be a “lower-level superhero”, the greatest Hero ever, Jesus, has rescued me from myself – taking my sin and giving me his righteousness. My identity is no longer based on what I do or have done. My identity is the one given to me by Christ. He who knew no sin became sin so that in him we might become the righteousness of God! (2 Corinthians 5:21) If this gospel truth truly penetrates my heart, I don’t have to live or die by how I serve God but rather see that God already loves we and am compelled to serve God because of how great he is! I no longer have think I am only good if I serve Jill well but am actually freed to love her like Christ loves the church because I have experience that love through the gospel. And I don’t consider myself a better person because I teach and pray with my kids but I am humbled and excited by the opportunity to proclaim the Good News to my children and ask God to transform them through his gospel.

So maybe the the crossing guard’s issue isn’t that he is aiming too high in pretending he is a policeman. He just is failing to see that through faith in Christ, through the gospel, he’s could actually identify with something far superior!

The gospel exposes our pretending. It shows us that we’re not as good as we think we are. Yet it also tell us that because of Christ’s work on the cross, we’re actually better than we think we are. We need not try to prove that, we simply have to believe it.

It’s about 10 p.m. on a weeknight and I run out to the local convenience store to get something to drink for Jill and myself. I park my car and quickly take in the scene. There’s almost always someone out front of this store asking for change so I looked to see if it would be the guy who doesn’t talk (just puts out his hand) our the drunk guy with the the basketball-sized growth in his abdomen. To my surprise, it was neither. It was a young girl. My heart sank. “She shouldn’t be out here by herself. What’s she doing out here by herself. She’s probably only 19 or 21 years-old.”

I saw her approach a couple other guys coming out of the store and they handed her some change. I said a short prayer and grabbed all the coins I keep in my cup holder. Got out of the car and headed in.

“Hey baby. Hey baby, Do you have a quarter honey? I’m just a little short and can use some help.” That was her opening line. Once again, my heart sank because that seemed entirely too forward an approach for a young girl to take.

“I have a few quarters. Here, this is all I have right now. Take it. We all come up short and I’m glad I can be of help.” I said to her as I was walking toward the door.
“Thank you baby” she said. It wasn’t so much what she said (really don’t think anyone has called me baby since I was in diapers!) but the way she said it that made me feel very uncomfortable. I have been propositioned by prostitutes on multiple occasion when I lived in California. This girl probably wasn’t doing that on this night. It was just the overtly sexual way she requested money that made me uncomfortable. Not that I thought she may be coming on to me but that she would use her sexuality to extract money from me (or anyone else). I wasn’t angry, jut sad. Sad that this girl was going up to lots of different guys and talking them up just to get a quarter. Sad that there wasn’t much I could do.

I went inside and bought our drinks and prayed again. Before I headed back outside, it hit me. “Dummy, you can give her something. You can give her the hope beyond what she is doing. The problem isn’t merely that she is putting herself into dangerous situations, it’s that she is settling for this as the way to live her life. I can talk to her and listen. By God’s grace, I can show her how Christ has changed me from someone who would at best dismiss her and at worst objectify her into someone who is compelled to serve her and tell her about the Gospel.

She engaged me again with the “Hey baby” stuff and poured on a bunch of compliments. I handed her the change I just got from the store, looked her right in the eye and said, “What are you doing out here? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m fine,” she answered.
“Seriously, what are you doing out here and how can I help you?”
“I’m just trying to get some cigarettes. That’s why I am out here. Just getting some change.” She proceeded to ask me what I do for a living. I told her that I work as a chiropractor and am in training to be a pastor. She responded as I would have expected.
“I hope you don’t think bad of me. I’m not really a bad person. I just do this to get by. I use to go to church. We’re Christians. Just stopped going. Wish I had listened to my mom. She gave me lots of good advice and I just didn’t listen to her and now I know she was right all along. I mean you’re a pastor and all, you probably think I am doing something horrible here.”
“Well, actually, I am not sure what you are doing out here. I am just concerned that you are alright out here by yourself.”

What followed was her pouring her heart out. I heard of how she struggled in her childhood with a learning disability, how she is still on SSI, how she has to live a life she doesn’t like at all because that’s the way it is. I just listened. She cried and laughed but the wall came down a bit. Sure, she still paused to ask others for change but in the moments when no one came by, she shared quite openly.

She told me that her life went really bad when she was young. Her dad drank a lot and completely neglected her and her twin sister. He would only pay attention to them when he would do crazy stuff in his drunken highs. At about this time, a man in his late forties rode by on his bicycle. She stopped him and said to me, “I want you to meet my boyfriend.” She introduced me to the guy on the bicycle as “a pastor” and he shook my hand saying, “God bless you,” in an alcohol-slurred dialect and rode away.

She continued on with how she doesn’t like living with him but doesn’t have anywhere else to go right now. She wants to go back to school and “straighten out her life”.

“You probably think I’m a mess, don’t you?” She asked me,
“Not really. None of us are good. We are all a mess. Believe me, I no better than you, I just have been forgiven because of Jesus.”
“Oh, I believe in Jesus Christ. He is my Lord and Savior. I just don’t go to church anymore. I love the Lord though.”
“That’s great. Can I just ask you one thing? If you love the Lord, what in your life shows that?” I don’t think I asked it as an accusation. I believe it was said in love.
“Yeah, I don’t really know. I guess I just like things that don’t make me look good or I’ve made bad decision and love other stuff too. I swear I’m not a bad person.”
“You know, it doesn’t really matter what I think of you. It’s what God see that matters the most. And you know what? He thinks you are settling for less than the best He has for you. You are finding joy in lesser things. He wants you to know that He is the ultimate joy. He loves you and will provide people to help you and care for you.”

She was a bit shocked. She’s spent her whole young life seeking pleasure and I was telling her that she wasn’t aiming high enough. I told her more about the gospel and she listened. I’d like to tell you that she repented and came to faith right then but I have no way of knowing. The Spirit moves where and when He wants. But I can tell you what happened next. She teared up and asked if she could use my phone. She wanted to call her sister. I let her. And she talked to her sister who apparently was in a worse situation than she. Her sister was crying and the girl told her she was talking with a “pastor” and handed me the phone. Her sister didn’t really want to talk to me (she was just crying) so I didn’t get to say much. She looked at me and said, “She needs to talk to a man, it would be good for her.” I told her that if she needed someone to talk to I would listen but if she needs a man just to make her feel better, I’m not that guy.

She ended the conversation with her sister and talked to me a bit more. Turns out she lives in the neighborhood where our church has a cafe. She knows about it. I invited her to stop by, to come meet some of the people there and meet some of the ladies that would love to talk with her and help her out. She said she would. Then she turned and walk over to a group of guys and started the whole act over again.

I was sorrowful and rejoicing at the same time. I was sad that she had been the victim of her dad’s sin. That she had been so abused. Sad that this city is so fully of homes where kids go to sleep without a dad. Sad that I grew up without my dad at home. Sad that this girl was so hopeless. Yet, I was rejoicing as well. Rejoicing in the knowledge that God is the True Father that even the best earthly fathers can only point us to. Rejoicing that for 30 minutes outside a convenience store, this girl shared her broken life with me and I could offer her a bit of hope. Rejoicing in the truth of 2 Corinthians 5:20… God continually makes his appeal through broken people like me.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. 18 All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; 19 that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. 20 Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. (2 Corinthians 5:17-20)

This city is totally broken. That would probably lead me to utter despair if it weren’t for the hope God has given us in Christ – the hope in the things unseen versus those that are seen. (2 Corinthians 4:18) It takes very little time to see that things “aren’t the way they’re supposed to be” here in Philadelphia.

For example, just look at the amount of garbage, literal trash, that is strewn about the streets. I have lived in a few of the country’s 100 large cities (Los Angeles, San Francisco and Santa Rosa) yet Philadelphia is by far the dirtiest. The first couple of times I saw people throw their fast food bags into the streets, I admit I was a bit surprised and I really didn’t know how to respond. Do I yell at them to pick it up? Do I try to explain how damaging that can be? Do I just stand there with my mouth wide open in disbelief?

This week, I parked next to the water drain on our block, I noticed the smell was more like garbage than actually old rain water (not to mention that it was nearly filled with trash)! In many ways, the streets of our city have become the people’s trash can. The disregard for cleanliness and sanitation is saddening to me. It’s as though there is no regard for what happens when trash backs up water drains or what the consequences of garbage in the streets might be. Seemingly no thought for how their trash taints the beauty of this city. How the smells take away from the scene. How the unsightly piles of trash mar the beauty of the city’s weathered brick row homes.

Look, I write this not as a rant against Philadelphians and the municipal services nor as a call for environmental awareness (though all are probably warranted to some degree), I write this because in it I see a picture of the gospel.

Like the people throwing trash into the streets, I “throw” my garbage on God’s holiness more often than I’d like to admit. I doubt His promises. I question His goodness. I forget His faithfulness. My sin is like a pile of trash in the streets of God. I am often unsightly and not good reflection of His beauty. But God doesn’t yell “Hey! Pick that up you’re making a mess of the place!” No not at all. He steps in to my mess and cleans up my trash for me. Not only that, He empowers me to stop littering. Sure, it’s a slow process (I’m a pretty messy individual) but through His Son, I am cleaned up.

The problem in Philadelphia isn’t a lack of trash cans, it’s a lack of gospel transformation. It’s the lack of people who have been changed by the gospel, living to see others changed by the gospel. Knowing what God has done for me and in me, perhaps the proper response to seeing people throw trash on the city streets is simply to go and pick it up myself.

Two months into walking out this calling to minister to the people of NE Philadelphia, I have found a tendency in my heart that scares me. It’s a tendency towards comfort and isolation. It’s a tendency to come home from work, park my car in the garage (yeah, we have a garage in our row home), go inside and close the door.

While it may seem like nothing is wrong with this picture, let me contrast it with how the first few weeks of life in the city were for us.

I would come home and we would go for a walk. We’d take our kids to the local playground each day and meet new people. We would sit outside and talk to our neighbors. We were new to the neighborhood and people knew it, so they talked with us. But now the newness is beginning to fade and routine is starting to set in. O how I must fight against complacency! I need to not listen to the lies: “You’re tired, it’s been a long day.” “You don’t need to go out and meet people, you’ve done enough this week.” On and on they spin.

Truthfully, missional living is not easy. You have to die to yourself and follow Christ. And that is the call to Christians. It is hard but it it joy-filled. Nothing harder, yet nothing greater.

So in my struggle to get myself out of the house the last couple of days, I was encouraged by a letter placed on our door recently. It read:
“Walker Street Block Party”
Yup, that’s right. If I was going to struggle with going to them, God was going to bring them to us. To our block even.

He continues to meet me in my weakness. Not to berate me or cut me down, but to gently encourage me and remind me that I am not the one determining the fate of my neighbors. He doesn’t really need me in Philadelphia to grow His Kingdom. It is a distinct privilege that I get to witness what He is doing in Philly and be used as I am. This just doesn’t seem fair. Why would I get so much when I’ve given so little?

It’s not fair. And that’s why it’s grace. So, would you pray for me to grow in accepting this? Would you pray that I would continue desire to share this with others, especially when I am tired?”