Movin' on up

About two weeks ago, Laura and I made the somewhat difficult decision to move closer to the people that God has called us to. Whether or not to move to the east side has been an issue of much contention since we began our ministry. Among all of the questions that we have mulled over, one has resounded above the rest; is it necessary? Is it necessary to uproot our family and move across town? Is it necessary to move out of a comfortable house in a comfortable neighborhood, and into a somewhat less comfortable neighborhood? Is it necessary to move into such close proximity to a people so different than us? The answer to that question, I have found, depends on just what it is we're trying to accomplish. If our mission is to serve the east side, to provide resources, and to give to the needy, then no it is not in any way necessary for us to relocate. But, if our mission is to establish solidarity with a community, then yes we have to move. And that is what God has called us to. Above and beyond my call to minister, God has called me to be a student. He has called me to that because there is much I need to learn. I need to learn humility. I need to learn submission. I need to learn to share. Much of what I have to learn can only be gleaned by sitting at the feet of a people who have lived a radically different existence than mine. Humility, patience, endurance, and forgiveness can best be taught by those who have been forced to the edges of society. In short, we have things to learn that only the east side can teach us. So, we're not just moving there so we can better meet their needs. We're moving there because we know that we need them as much as they need us. Now, all of this doesn't mean that we're going to pull the plug on all of our ministries. There's just a big difference between ministering to a community, and ministering in a community.

highlights

I just realized that I haven't posted in nearly a month. Please forgive my sluggardliness. I thought I would take this opportunity to cover some of my favorite moments from what has been a very busy summer for us. Following is a list of the greatest things I witnessed in the preceding weeks........a group of kids from the east side making commitments at children's camp........a group of kids from more affluent backgrounds willing to endure repeated beatings so that my kids could enjoy a week of camp.......a grown black male, wearing a wife-beater, a pair of inordinately over sized pants, and the enduring scent of a Swisher Sweet playing kick-ball in the park.......people, young and old, black and white, coming together to paint the home of a saint named Vastine Franks.......a collection of old men waiting to have their prostates examined the old fashioned way

Those are just a few of the highlights from our summer. Oh yeah, and Anna Grace learned how to walk.

She's 1!

Our fathers who art in prison

The fathers are gone. Some are in prison. Some are on the corner. Even those who have never gone to prison have been profoundly effected by the many who have. Most are non-violent offenders. It's quick money, and quick is all they care about. They see no reason to hope for better. They see no reason to save for the future, or to begin the slow, grueling process of change. They wish it wasn't this way, and they want better for their children. But their children will never do better without their help. They can't help because they're not there. So many have gone to prison, so many hustle, so many have been lured away from their families that separation and distance have become second nature. The reality of absentee fatherhood has seeped into the subconscious of the community. They have accepted it. They have integrated it into their worldview. But the children will never accept it. They will never get used to not having a daddy. They will always find it deeply odd that they have a different last name than the woman who raises them. They will never stop wishing that daddy was home, and they will never forget the shame of seeing him on the corner. They will pretend to accept him the way he is, and they will tirelessly defend his honor . Yet the rage with which they defend him will be rooted in the harsh reality that their daddy was never who they needed him to be.

The Bridge Project on video

A time to slap

Violence is bad. Fighting is bad. Inflicting pain on others is bad. And war, whether it's necessary or not, is never good. Yet I could never be a pacifist. That's because I'm a daddy. Being a daddy has taught me that there is in fact an appropriate place for defense. This lesson was reinforced yesterday while I was hanging out at the Boys and Girls Club. Some of our young men at the club have a disturbing flare for fondling the most intimate parts of the female anatomy. They have not grasped the consequences of their actions, and therefore continue to grasp anything that jiggles and gyrates in their general vicinity. Like most incidents, yesterdays altercation began with a boys hand on a girls body. Yet unlike most incidents, it ended with a girls hand on a boys face. The young man has a history of trouble, and will likely find himself in the middle of future battles. But I can almost guarantee that he will never again lay his pre-adolescent hand on the person of this particular female. I later pulled the female in question aside and sternly instructed her that if he, or any other boy ever touched her in that manner again......hit him harder. If all of our girls in the east side community would follow her example, there would eventually be a lot less pain. When one sex is forced into subordination, both sexes bear the scars.

Sadly, there is another side of the argument. This side is best told by the expression on the freshly slapped face of our young fondler, whom we'll call Johnny. It wasn't so much an expression of shock on Johnny's face as it was an expression of betrayal. Everyday, girls his age and older crank up 102 Jams and proceed to give their innocence to whatever inanimate object they deem fit. So you can understand why Johnny looks like he just got bit by the friendliest looking dog in the neighborhood. What's the solution? I have no idea. But as long as the boys keep grabbing, I'm gonna tell the girls to keep slapping. That's what I would tell my daughter. But I would also tell her that when the hand that slaps is attached to the arm of a chaste young women who is above reproach, it produces a much louder echo.

Next best thing

Has anybody here seen my ol' friend Bobby? Can you tell me where he's gone? Not me, but I did just see a well dressed, light skinned brother who bears a striking political resemblance. Ever since he was shot down on the way to the White House, the collective mind of America has wondered, "What if?" What if this deeply empathetic, righteously indignant son of royalty had made it all the way to Pennsylvania Avenue? Any history book can tell you about the man Bobby Kennedy was becoming. How the cries of injustice from Vietnam to Brooklyn had somehow penetrated the insulation of his first class upbringing and awakened his political conscience. How he had transformed from a ruthless witch hunter into the relentless champion of the downtrodden, joining himself with the likes of impoverished drug addicts and oppressed migrant workers. Yet no history book can predict a future that never came to pass. History, however, may be getting a second chance.

As you can tell, I'm an RFK fan. I plead guilty to idealizing his legacy, and to looking at his career and character through rose colored glasses. Sue me. But whatever your opinion may be of the Kennedy's, or of the current candidates, you can't deny the obvious. Barack Obama is Bobby Kennedy after he fell asleep in the tanning bed while listening to "I have a dream" on his ipod. Not only do these two share a common rock star status, and an enduring message of optimism and hope, but they are even running on identical platforms. The goad that pushed Bobby into the race some forty years ago was his outrage over Vietnam. He couldn't understand why America was wasting so many lives and so much money perpetuating an unjust war, while millions at home were financially destitute. Are we not hearing the same rhetoric from Obama?

I understand why Obama scares some conservatives. He carries the mystique of a revolutionary, and promotes ideals that are almost socialistic. But in reality, Bobby was far more radical. His clean-cut image, and impeccable pedigree served as the perfect disguise. He had uprising in his veins, and possessed an inner compulsion to challenge the establishment. So, in honer of Bobby, but mostly in honor of my own curiosity, I plan on voting for Barack Obama. To those who would remind me of his liberal stance on issues such as abortion and the sanctity of marriage, I say two things. First, I would never let him be my pastor, but I will let him be my president. Second, it's impossible in a two party system for any candidate to meet the Christian standard. The key for us is to keep the ship as balanced as possible until Jesus comes back and makes it right.