You'd be crying too!

No crying he made?  Really?  Come on - the writer of that carol couldn't do better than "away in a manger... no crying he made?"

Anyone who with a baby has politely discounted that line as poetic license for over 100 years... but my eleven year old son put the song in new light for me this year.  His observation, simple and profound, had nothing to do with the capacity of infant lungs to create sounds which demand the attention of any adult in the room, but rather what was in that little body.

All of God crammed into eight pounds of human tissue - now that would elicit some crying!  One minute you are all of all, unlimited in every way, and then, there you are, bound by biology, physics, and a puny human brain.  As earth's atmosphere fills your lungs for the first time, it is not a moment for peaceful reflection but a cry of eternal depth.  Not a cry of sadness, mourning, need or frustration, but a cry to release the shear adjustment of it all.

All the power of the universe and beyond, bound into the flesh of a baby.
That is the wonder of Christmas.

I hope you allow the power of Jesus to touch your life this Christmas.

Prattsville vs. Pompeii

Life left on the Kitchen Table

When I was in elementary school I vividly remember learning about the city of Pompeii, a city buried in volcanic ash, every detail frozen in time.  Working in the Prattsville four days after the destructive flooding of the town thoughts of Pompeii returned to my mind.  The homemade salsa finished the night before the flood was still on the counter; the jars covered in silt.  The child’s toy, under the coffee table, embedded in inches of heavy mud.  The flood was unexpected, there was no warning, no evacuation notice; time stopped and the destruction began. 

Main Street Prattsville

Arriving to this disaster zone, which was once a peaceful mountain town, a few days after the flood meant the initial triage was over, but now what?  Everyone on the mud covered main street was moving in slow motion past the destroyed houses and mangled businesses.  The immediate needs had been met, power lines cut, roadways cleared, water provided, shelter arranged – but now what?  It was like standing at the foot of a rugged mountain, how could you possibly climb to the top?  The destruction was so great, the mud so heavy, the debris so tangled. 

Stepping into the flood ravaged house, which a week before was a happy lively home for a young couple raising a darling toddler and expecting their second child in only three months, was an overwhelming experience.  I could feel a sliver of what Greg and Becky were dealing with, the question of “where to begin?”  When four feet of water flows through the first floor of your house it is merciless.  It mashes together the treasure with the trash, and when it is done it leaves behind a muck that binds it all together.  Everything but two laptops and a camera had been left just as it was, and thus destroyed.

Greg came downstairs Sunday morning, noting the rain, he started the day with a quick check of e-mail, Facebook and internet headlines.  After ten minutes online, he looked outside again and noticed water starting to flood main street.  He roused Becky, and in twenty minutes they were pulling out of their driveway through twelve inches of water; having grabbed only a few items from the house where they have lived for years.  As they left it was unfathomable to think of six feet of flood water rushing down the main street in a flow which literally rivaled that of Niagara Falls.

But how does one climb even the tallest mountain?  One step at a time.  And so we began on that sunny Friday morning; piece by piece to empty out the first floor of their house.  From cabinetry to Crocs, from water logged boxes of pasta to antique instruments, it all ended up outside on the remains of the driveway.  Once the belongings which had been reduced to refuge were removed, then we could shovel.  But you don’t cart a wheelbarrow through a home, so one shovel at a time the mud which effortlessly swept into the house was carried out so the house could begin to dry and undergo inspection.  Once items had been extracted from the muck and removed to a sunny place, Greg and Becky Town could recover the durable artifacts from their life; carefully placing them in plastic storage bins for a day in the future when life might return to normal.  They know there will be a day when once again they turn a house into a home.

It was only a start, but the climb up the mountain had begun.  It was a blessing to be part of the process of recovery which will continue for a very long time.  Ultimately every scrap of flooring, drywall, trim and cabinetry would need to be removed and replaced, but the house was no longer frozen in time.  Unlike Pompeii which was lost forever, Prattsville is on the path toward new life.

Pastors Greg and Becky Town
(with inspector - center)

Starting where you are at....

In a little over a week Pastor Dave and I will be spending four Sundays on Prayer 101.  In preparation for this, I have started asking people about their prayer lives.  Some of the spiritually vibrant people I know are conversationalist - living life with a heavenly dialogue within their heads.  Others stand in the gap, taking focused time praying for specific people who have a need.  Others are more meditational, trying to get out of the way to be open to hear from God.  Some pray out loud before meals, some have a time at the end of the day before they "lay down to sleep," some gather with others, while many are very uncomfortable having their prayers heard.

What strikes me when I consider myself, and when I listen to others - where we are at is great, but there is so much more.  Within myself I have been applauding the prayer lives of those I talk to, any conversation with God is great.  But just because what we are doing is good doesn't mean we shouldn't strive for more, for better.  In prayer we have resources made available to us which are beyond comprehension, so the deeper we go, the more of the good stuff we can discover.

I'm looking forward to preaching "Prayer 101" to help people start where they are at, and then go further.  But just as much, I hope to go further. "Starting where you are at..." means you don't stay where you are!

In the Aftermath...

Yesterday it was officially official, my three month sabbatical is over.  I spent the day in the office, created a todo list longer than the paper I was using, threw out junk mail, changed voice mail, submitted financial reports, caught up with staff, and I'm back on at DRC!  And it is good!

The past three months have been great.  And that great is on many different levels.  Great because of what I was able to do, and great because of the things I didn't do.  Great because of what I learned and thought, great because none of my learning or thinking was out of a pressing urgency of ministry.  It was a time without lasting pattern or routine, but pointed me back to the benefit of pattern and routine.  I thank God for the opportunity to have this sabbatical, and for the fact that I have a ministry I am excited to return to now that it is over.

It's who I am...

It has been two weeks since I decided to break from blogging, but I don't want to lose my thought from this past weekend - so here I go...
(I guess I needed the break from thinking about what to blog and how my blogs would be received...)

I spent the weekend at the Pyramid Life Center near Paradox, NY.  A beautiful, simple, natural retreat center in the Adirondacks.  I was there for a men's retreat organized by John Daubney (www.johndaubney.com) who has been leading these retreats for men for 19 years.  They are a time and place for men to be real, express emotion, explore what's happening in their lives, have spiritual experiences, and experience something different/sacred.  It was a mix of men, I was the youngest, and the common denominator is that most of the men involved are in recovery.

If you are not familiar with the phrase "in recovery," it is not that these men are currently using, or have abused substances recently, but they have been brought out of addition through a 12 Step program.  Most of the men at the retreat (17 of us) have not had a drink or used drugs for over a decade - but they realize who they are and that they will always be "in recovery."   But then again - aren't we all.  

"Hello, my name is Dirk, and I'm a sinner." (but by the grace of God I'm in recovery)

I was not viewed as a pastor by the group (other than by the man who invited me).  I was just a guy, invited to a retreat, hanging out with other guys.  The leader and one other who had visited DRC once knew my role outside of the retreat, but they kept quiet.  So I was just Dirk from Delmar.  People didn't shift their language around me, didn't try for the "right" answer (this was not a place for that type of thinking anyway), and didn't probe into what it is like to be in a role which few find themselves.  I could just be me...

But somewhat to my surprise - I am a pastor!  In just being me, I found myself being a pastor.  I am on sabbatical - so I'm not fulfilling my normal pastoral "duties,"  I was with people who were not looking at me as a pastor, I was away from all that is familiar, I was in spiritual environment - but it never went beyond "my higher power," but through it all, my identity within myself was that of pastor.  As the weekend progressed it came out within individual conversations, but the response was never disbelief, nor was it "I knew it."  It was just natural - because that is who I am now.  

It is still not a clear cut notion within my mind, because Dirk as a pastor is different than the stereotypical "man of the cloth," but even detached from my congregation, it is still my internal identity.  I think this is the most significant gift of my sabbatical so far.  I have been feeling it through the struggles of seeking to separate my church life from my personal life for three months, but my weekend with John, Scott, David, Paul, Steve, Dave, John, Brian, Zenek, Chris, Anthony, Andy, Mike, Paul, Dale, and Tom helped show me what God is growing within me.

Life in a Fishbowl

I'm not Schwarzenegger, Lohan, or Jolie; with millions of people gawking at the details of my life. However, there is a very real fishbowl aspect to my life as a pastor. And from the time I arrived at DRC I've decided to embrace this reality. There was an exercise of intentional pendulum swing - from privacy to public - when we lived our first year or so without any sort of blinds on the downstairs windows of our house. I forced a mental conversation, "yes, people are watching... and that's okay."

Hopefully I'm never as interesting as those who grab the headlines. But hopefully God is working in my life in such a way that there are things which people can benefit from by watching. It isn't about being perfect. I think some pastors avoid the fishbowl because they think they have to be perfect in everyones' eyes, but know they can't. I know I won't be perfect in everyones' eyes - if for no other reason than there are so many different definitions of perfect... (oh, and then there is the fact that I'm far from perfect)  So I seek to live my life, and if people choose to watch, that's okay - it is part of the call to which God has called me.

I want others to see that abnormal has its benefits. Normal is totally missing out on the joy and blessing (and great sex) of marriage. Normal is striving after things which will not satisfy. Normal clinging to money, but never having enough - heck, normal is functionally broke. Normal is fractured relationships which fester as wounds which will not heal. Normal is giving lip service to being a Christian, but not having God as the top priority in your life and experiencing the freedom and peace that comes with it.  Normal is having kids, but barely having a family.  I don't claim to have it all figured out, or that I'm getting it all right - but I know who does, and I'm seeking to follow Him. And as a pastor I'm in a position where I'm watched - because what I preach better make a difference, and let it begin with me.

However...
Jesus lived with his disciples. He didn't swoop in, teach, and then go back to his other life. But at times he did pull away, to be out of the crowds, to be away from those he shared life with daily, to spend some time in a opaque fish bowl. I think that is part of sabbatical, to step away from all that is my normal ministry. And part of my ministry, part of my fishbowl, is blogging - so for now I'm going to pull down the blinds of my blog...

It has begun...

Monday is normally my day off - so it didn't really feel like the start of my sabbatical. I did the laundry, I did work around the house, time on the computer, etc... but today is different. I didn't go to the office today (though I do have some piles to wrap up some evening this week) I'm sure it will take time for it to sink in, but my focus for the next three months will not be on the day to day details of Delmar Reformed Church.

What is my church work? What is my personal ministry? What do I take a break from? I don't do much of what I do because I get paid, so I can't say - I'll stop doing the things I get paid for - You can't pay someone to serve God. And I try not to dichotomize my life - the people of DRC are my friends. The disciples didn't learn and teach with Jesus, and then go off to spend time with their "real friends." So, sabbatical can't be about distancing myself from DRC, because that would be about distancing myself from my friends... but it can be about distancing myself from the responsibility I have at DRC. That is my rest, from decisions, from the weight, from the responsibility. It feels strange to say that, because that too is part of who I am, but by letting it go I can grow, refresh, gain perspective, be open.

Well, these blogs my not be as readable as others, because they are going to be more my processing... I'm sure I'll try and entertain myself, so they might still be fun to read, but I'll just see where they go.

Today I have set up my first pastor lunch/interview & figured out how to blog from my ipad (and get things in my google accounts streamlined). It is also good to be here at home on Tuesday and see how hard Jen works on the band work - like most people, I tend only to see the final result.

When rest is hard...(a blog for my own processing)

It is midnight and I'm not asleep.  But that isn't the point.  In 13 days my sabbatical begins (but who's counting).  A three month change of pace - but can I rest, and what does that mean?

Most people are familiar with an academic sabbatical - but that isn't what I'm dealing with.  A sabbatical break is not academic in nature, it is spiritual - Sabbath.  After six, take one off - that's the God given pattern in the Bible. Work six days, have a day set apart as different.  Work the land six years, take a year off.  A pattern of purposeful rest.  My church is great for giving me this time, as my seventh year comes to a close I have the gift of three months.  I want to use it well - but what does that mean?

Don't get me wrong, this isn't the first time I've thought about this.  I have shared my intentions with the church board, I have bounced ideas off of an advisory group, I have written about it in the church newsletter, I have sought the advice of others, I have prayed... but now the three month "rest" is within sight.  I want to "rest" well, and I'm confident it doesn't mean cycling between bed, couch and hammock for three months.  And 12 hour days of prayer and reflection is probably beyond my abilities...

Then there are details like: I have a wife and kids...  There are meals, events and laundry....  As I reflect tonight, I do think I am preparing to sabbatical well.  Interviewing those in ministry is hearing from God.  Spending time working in the woods is time set apart, resting from my life.   The road trip we have planned doesn't sound restful - but it will allow me to be more separate from the norm (while connected to my family).

Sabbath rest is not about crashing on the couch.  It is about true refreshment which comes as we are reminded of our place before God.  Sabbatical rest - maybe it can be a reminder that what I do for God isn't as important as who I am before God... It will be interesting to see what that means....

Where Jashton was born - literally...

Last Thursday we were able to visit where Jashton was born.  It turns out that the friends we stayed with in La Paz live a block from the clinic where Jashton was born, so when heading out to dinner on our last night in Bolivia we took a moment to swing by Cemes clinic... he's definitely isn't a baby any more!

Jashton proved to be quite the trooper as we filled a week with Bolivia.  From hiking miles, to rough roads, to dinners at 9pm, to events completely in Spanish, Jashton absorbed it all - I'm searching my cranium, but I don't recall him complaining once during the trip.  And that is impressive given the final 72+ hours of our journey.

We ended our trip with an activity level which far outpaced the first couple days.  Here's a quick re-cap.

on the Bus Cama

Wednesday night we were picked up by taxi to be taken to the bus terminal which was in a level of frenetic activity reserved only for special occasions.  This was holy week travelers.  It was packed, and hard not to get separated. Fortunately for Jashton, I'm head and shoulders above the crowd - and easy target to spot.

Once on the bus for the overnight 8 hr trip to La Paz it was a comfortable and peaceful ride.  The double decker buses have wide seats which recline and have a provided foot rest - other than the timid use of heat, it is a great way to travel.

In La Paz we took a taxi to the apartment of Tricia and Alfredo.  Tricia was a Hunger Corps with Food for the Hungry (FH) when we were there, and Alfredo was one of the top managers of FH-Bolivia.  You never know who God is going to pair up, and three years ago they married.  Tricia now works for Samaritan's Purse, and Alfredo is a developer building homes and multi-unit buildings.  It was fun to reconnect to both of therm, and they were wonderful hosts.  Thursday we explored Bolivian museums, artisan markets, restaurants, and city life.  It was a great day!  While it wouldn't be top on my list of places to live again, I sure like spending time there - La Paz is a city like no other!

After dinner I finished packing, and prepared for our departure to the airport at 4:30 a.m.  Just for fun (okay, I'm sure that's not what he was thinking) our taxi driver took us up the back way to the airport - it is decidedly not faster... we were the last in line at the ticket counter... but that didn't actually matter.

We flew to Santa Cruz, flew to Miami, changed to an earlier delayed flight to storm encircled Chicago - sat on the runway - but made it to Chicago by 9pm.  Rental car to Wheaton, night at my Aunt and Uncle's breakfast at 6:30am with more relatives (Dick, Marge & Mary), and then back to O'Hare.  A rather pleasant airport to use at 8:30 on a Saturday.... with a final flight to White Plains, NY, and a ride to Delmar.


But wait - There's more!  Arrival back enabled the completion of my preparations for the next day - Sunday, Easter Sunday.  The Sunday for the baptism of Jashton, Tobiah and a new friend within our church.

I hadn't really thought about how appropriate the theme of my sermon was when it came together - Wake Up!  On each leg of this crazy journey, I was able to wake up with excitement - because what was coming was worth it.  The message of Jesus, the message of Easter - is to wake up and become spiritually alive!  Jesus conquered the gloom and shadow of death and darkness, calls us to come awake, and gives us exciting things to do.  (if you want to hear the message, it is on the DRC website).  Then after time with my parents and other friends for egg hunts, dinner, presents, playing and clean-up (oh, and I rewired an electrical switch in there as well) - we returned home - and at that point I felt like the trip Jashton and I embarked on ten days earlier was complete!

Giesers, Carltons, Wests - Easter Dinner in Greenville!

It was an awesome trip!  Praise the Lord!

Where are you from? De donde es?

While buying ice cream bars to keep us going on our trekking through Cochabamba, some vendors struck up a conversation with Jashton. I had to intervene with some translation, but Jashton did a great job sharing his name, and then answering the common question question, “de donde es?” In Spanish Jashton said, “Nueve York.”

the house of Jashton's toddlerhood

Then I shared that he was born in La Paz, so for them, Jashton is from La Paz. In Bolivia you are from where you were born, and this works well in a society with very little individual mobility, and even less of family roots. In reviewing the photos from today I was hit by this photo. Jashton eating a saltena – a typical Bolivian food. It is a great image for me – seeing Jashton's Bolivian-ness. But is he Bolivian? What does that mean, what does it mean that he is American?

Okay, a photo pushes me into a bit of philosophy. Who are we really? What are nationalities but arbitrary political boundaries. So it comes back to “Where are you from?” For an American raised in a mobile middle-class, it is a bit clearer that it is not where we were born. But our mobility also makes our current residence a shallow descriptor of our identity. The pattern of the Israelites is that of paternity – who is your father? And those who study family systems lay most of all we are at the feet of our family. But I am taken back to a poem Jashton wrote for school earlier this year.

In poetic form, he was to write using the start of “I am from....” It was a list of fun and family, events and memories, places and people, but then he ended; “But most of all, I am from the love of God.”

De donde es?

Oh, yeah - I remember culture stress...

There is a great deal to like about Cochabamba.  It is great to be back, but today I had little reminders that it is stressful to live cross culturally in a developing country.  It typically isn't the big stuff, but a slow accumulation of small stressors that gets to you.  Today was a wonderful day, worked on the Easter worship service in the morning and then Jashton and headed out to get to know Cochabamba.

After four days here, it was about time to go into the city Jen and I used to call home.  We decided to save our walking legs and grab a trufi for the one mile trip down the hill.  The driver charged us 2 bolivianos, Sunday a driver charged us 2.50?  I was told the rate was 1.70 per person - but obviously for short trips it varies... but by how much and when?  Does it really matter?  No - we are talking the difference of 5 to 10 cents US - it is no big deal, just a little bit of ambiguity in your day - a tiny touch of stress...  It was the start of my reminders throughout the day.

Simon Bolivar & Jashton on the Prado

view of the marchers from Globos

We were took the next trufi into the city - when I ask the rate, will he tell the truth (he did), but exactly where does this route go, and why has traffic stopped moving?  We "bajar" and head into one of the garden plazas in the heart of Cochabamba (Plaza Colon).  Jashton and I walk up and down "El Prado."  Filled with restaurants, this is the place to be Saturday night, and nice for a stroll on a Tuesday...  As we head back toward Colon I notice something extra is happening.  There are thousands of protester parading by.  "But I thought everyone was happy? What are they do here?"  Again, no major impact on my non-plans of the day, but still, stress as we decide to take advantage of a restaurant with a view of the march.

Potato overload!

They have all passed in about 45 minutes (yes, it was a large march - but peaceful), things returned to normal, so we head into the market area of the city - the "Cancha."  I really like the trill of the chancha (literally translated it is "the playing field").  You can find just about anything in the cancha - from a dozen different varieties of potatoes, to 60" Sony flat screen TVs, to plumbing fixtures, to lingerie, to bolts of fabric, to cell phones, to cooking oil, to baby cribs.  After 9 years I could still get to where I wanted - Jashton and I made it all the way to the toy section (on the far south side of the cancha).  But is someone trying for my wallet?  How much should something cost?  I love the cancha - it is a good stressor, but a stressor all the same.

On the way back to the north side of town, Plaza 14 de Septembre is on the way - oops, that's where the march ended, and things are still going strong.  It is impossible for me to keep my head down here (being a foot taller than everyone), we quietly glide around the corner and away.  That wasn't expected.  Stressor.  Then I remember, the news on at the restaurant was reporting that the protesters were in la plaza principal - I should have understood that better, I should have put it together - stressors.

How much did I get ripped off buying that water?  Where can I make a telephone call?  Am I waiting at the right corner?  All reminders of what it is like to live here.  It is great to live here.  I had a great day, and it was fun be reminded of Bolivia.  Jashton was a super trooper as we walked all over.  But just know that those missionaries you support face some big challenges, but also deal with lots of little things as they sort thought a culture which is not their own.

One fun surprise - at one of our ice cream pick-me-ups, Jashton and I thought a fruity popsicle looked good, so we each got the same one - looked like strawberry - it was cinnamon!  (after our first licks I read the label)  We were both really glad I didn't read first - who would have thought a cinnamon popsicle would be a good thing?
If you happen to see one, get it, they're great.

Facebook Photo Album

Before any reflections on the day, you probably should see some photos - more than can easily fit in this blog.

I have created a facebook album of key photos from our trip to Apilla Pampa.  This community of around 1000 people is a two hour drive from Cochabamba (1 hour on pavement, 1 hour decidedly not).  Of all the communities where Food for the Hungry works, this is the one I visited the most.  I help in the construction (as a day laborer) of the FH center, and a school building here.  I handed out Bibles to all the kids in the community, and worshiped in the simple church here.  And we had a sponsored child through Food for the Hungry's child sponsorship program here.

Nine and a half years ago, while my parents and oldest sister were visiting, we made a family journey, connecting our family to Maria's family.  Today, Jashton and I were able to reconnect with Maria's family - bringing photos from that visit over 9 years ago.  Getting to know Maria's younger sister, Maxima.





Enjoy the photos - http://www.facebook.com/album.php?fbid=10150158467798861&id=736513860&aid=287453&l=8ea1f488b7 

Bolivia Day by bulletpoint (with photos)

Jashton wasted no time in getting to bed tonight. What a full day we had! This entry will go back to where the idea of a blog began – a web log.

• A piece to toast with jam and juice for breakfast before heading out at around 8:30 am.
• One mile walk down hill to the town – Tiquipaya.

• Walk through three blocks of Sunday morning market to get to the Trufi stop.

(a Trufi is like a fixed route taxi)

• Take the trufi into Cochabama ~15 minutes – Plaza Cala Cala where the International Church is.
• Sunday morning worship – close to 2 hours long – see previous entry

• Trufi back to Tiquipaya, spend some time in the market so Jashton can see it more.

• Decide to walk back up the hill to the Firestones (all the uphill trufies are full) Get an ice cream bar at a tienda along the way. Hot and sunny! Get back about 1:45.
• A bit after 2 the Firestones arrive back with charcha (best description – pulled llama jerky)

• Eat, and then a bus load of girls arrive from an orphanage for an Easter egg hunt.
• Jashton, Thomas, Maddy and I take them (age range 5 to early teens – all girls) on a hike to the river while the eggs are hidden.

• Easter egg hunt mayhem – help littlest ones find eggs

• 5:30 as the girls leave Jashton and I take a trufi down the hill, switch to another trufi heading in to Cochabamba for a family evening at CIC. 2 hours of songs, skits, information and more – mostly in Spanish (it is a bilingual congregation, and most of the contributors were native Spanish speakers)
• Head out of there around 8:20. We are hungry (no dinner yet), cold (the sun set taking its warmth), and a bit tired (we had walked miles). But I convinced Jashton to walk for a few blocks.
• 8:30 Got to a new trendy pizza place – ordered, realized we were both really thirsty, got dinner around 9pm and scarfed it down.

• Hailed a taxi, was blessed by a driver who offered a fair fare right off the bat (no meters, it all negotiated) and got back to the Firestones shortly after 9:30.
• On the gate was a note that we will be leaving at 7:45 to meet our ride from Food for the Hungry to visit Apilla Pampa in the rural areas – there don't seem to be blockades being organized for Monday.

Yes, it was a full day!

Tears of Emotion

This morning as a joined my voice with about three hundred other people in worship, songs transitioning from English to Spanish and back again, I began to cry.  They weren't tears of sadness, they weren't tears of joy, the best I can describe them is as tears of emotion.  The whole package of seeing God's hand at work, reconnecting with my past, participating in worship where I didn't have responsibility, a sense of "how amazing is this," and  more seemed only able to express itself in tears.  For simplicity's sake, I'm glad it happened then rather than during my few minutes before the congregation.  (I had to snap three shots from the platform to capture the congregation)

Cochabamba International Church is a wonderful place.  It is now what we only dreamed it could be when it started ten years ago.  This morning I compared the time I was involved to infancy.  Fun, exciting, and cute, but an infant can't do much of anything.  There can be dreams, but they are down the road.  However, as anyone in early childhood development will tell you, the first 5 years are critical.  They define so much of what follows.  It is a joy to see what has been build upon the foundation laid years ago.

For some reason over the years I have transferred from one PDA to the next a copy of the vision statement we wrote in the first six months of existence of CIC.  It is still there.

Here is what it said:

A biblically based community empowered by the Holy Spirit to glorify God by:

• Sharing the life changing good news of Jesus Christ
• Nurturing and connecting the internationally minded in Christ
• Serving the need of our world.

With Wick - who was also on the original leadership team.
He came back as well and delivered the sermon this morning.

By the grace of God this has happened.  The church has sent out missionaries, connected to college students, brought together internationals and internationally minded (over 50% of the congregation is Bolivian).   In many ways the church is now somewhere in adolescence.  It will be a joy to see where God takes this congregation as it moves into the future!


PS.  Out of the whole congregation only a handful of people had ever seen my face before, however, to my surprise the small group Jen and I started is still in existence!  They have become "true friends in Christ."

I didn't see it, but Jashton did...

 What is Jashton seeing and thinking as he enters this new world, so different than anything he experiences is the USA?

I asked him after settled into our room what he noticed on the way up to the house.

"Dogs"

That was his answer, all the dogs wandering the streets.  Of all the things I would have guessed (road quality, dress of people, vegetation, sights & sounds, etc) I don't think I would have even thought to put dogs on the list.  Once you are down here for any length of time (apart from a phobia of dogs) you just take them for granted - you are aware of them, but you don't "see" them.

Today while walking I grabbed some shots of the neighborhood dogs.  I'm drawn to the backgrounds, but Jashton sees the dogs.  It is a joy to travel with a fresh pair of eyes.

Without at Camera

If you read anything I wrote while in Israel you might remember my thoughts of the streams of people cycling up to the front of a famous site, snapping a picture, and then heading back to the bus. Well, over the past 24 hours I have not seen a single camera. No one is taken pictures of the cobble stone streets, the small tiendas, the worship spaces, the plazas, the families washing clothes in the river, the women gathering flowers to take to Saturday market, or the kids who have little more than the clothes on their backs playing while their parents work. Not even me...

Thought: Israel is where Jesus was. In places like this is where Jesus is. He said, “Whatever you do to the least of these, you do to me.” Is this where it is possible to take a picture of the face of Jesus today?

Less Deep Thought: I need to carry my camera whenever I leave the guesthouse. I find myself visiting the church that Tammy serves, without any way to share it with others. It is not the Church of the Annunciation, but it is a much better expression of local believers creating a place for them to worship in “spirit and in truth.” I find myself being lead up the mountains behind the house by Maddy – a fun 3^rd grader. Jashton and I are just going out for a walk. And the next thing we know Jashton is seeing how people do laundry when they don't have running water at home. Dozens of people scrubbing clothes (often as a whole family) on the rock by the rushing stream, and drying them on the bushes. It was just a walk, but it really was so much more.

While the Dome on the Rock is famous, there is great value here – time to carry my camera so I can share it.  

"snow day" in Cochabamba

Now it is three hours later and now I'm sitting in the sanctuary of La Trinidad, part of the Anglican Episcopal Church of Bolivia. Over the past three hours Jashton and I flew 30 minutes over the majestic snow capped Andes mountains, we were picked up at the airport by Tammy, we avoided major roads and headed into a more rural “suburban” community where our friends Rusty and Tammy live. After unpacking, breakfast and a quick nap, I came to town with Tammy. She is currently functioning as the pastor here at La Trinidad after the resignation of the priest over the summer. So while she gets some work done before lunch, I can get a bit more of the lay of the land, and enjoy this simple sacred place surrounded by the sounds of Bolivia. Jashton stayed up at the house with Thomas and Maddy who are home from school today.

I'm going to have to get my head around sharing this experience in a blog. In Israel everything was new, I only knew what I was told, and we were constantly seeing and experiencing the big and the dramatic. Here I know much more of the back story, I want you to get the right understanding, but it is so far from the frame of reference of North America I don't know what will be possible. My attention is drawn a bit more to the detail, but I want it to be something you want to keep reading...

So, there was much more in the initial paragraph than meets the eye. Tammy was supposed to pick us up at the airport after dropping the kids at school, but today is a “paro” day – no school and she could be there when we arrived. “Paro” techincally is a strike, but really what's going on this week are “bloqueos” which are blockades. People are protesting due to price increases, and wage stagnation. (vast simplification) The protestors block the main roads, so the school is closed. These days are the Bolivian equivalent to snow days in schools in the northeast. Often there are rumors they are coming (a forecast), but you have to wait until the morning of to see if things are closed, and then you never know how severe they will be until they get going. Where we are traveling (on the north side of the city) things are proceeding like normal, but I understand that in the center things are pretty blocked up. I won't go downtown today.... but I wasn't planning to anyway. Nothing new, happened regularly when we lived here, but it may impact plans during our stay. There is absolutely no danger, just inconvenience.

I'll have to get photos of the “suburban” town where we are staying – it would require too many thousands of words to get your mind's eye wrapped around the reality. It is wonderful, but definitely foreign.

As for the church. This church is 17 years old, and in the last decade they have been able to purchase property, build a temporary worship sanctuary, and are currently building offices and classrooms. I love the creative use of simple materials which create a “set apart” space. This is not the church I was part of, it is a Bolivian congregation. I was part of the International Church for people desiring to worship in English. I'll get there on Sunday.

Rusty & Tammy's House

It is a real blessing to be back in Bolivia!

Landing in La Paz

I just saw the word factura. It is a term I haven't seen, heard, or thought about in 9 years – but instantly it all comes back. Factura is an official receipt for tax purposes, and it was on a sticker I had to purchase (at a special window) for the back of my boarding pass – tasa – the airport tax. Yes, traveling here is much easier having done it before – I had totally forgotten about the “after you get the boarding pass, before you head to the gate” step. The ticket agent saying, “tasa y puerta ocho” would not have gotten me to the right place... at least not without some back tracking.

Jashton is doing great. It is a tough trip, leaving Miami at 10:30 pm, arriving 5:30 am, at 13,000 ft. waiting in lines, high altitude, little sleep, but he's taking it all in stride. It's great traveling with him – I'm thinking the younger ones would be super miserable at the moment. The current moment is sitting on the plane, waiting to fly to Cochabamba. Fun to walk the tarmac, past all the active airport stuff, and climb the steps to a full sized 737 Boeing jet – which is just getting ready to take off – more later.  

Travelogue Again - Bolivia

Tomorrow I board a plane heading south with Jashton, to the land of his birth.  It will be a week long trip of reconnecting, celebrating, learning, sharing.

The 10 year anniversary the Cochabamba International Church (CIC) is the catalyst for the journey.  Jen and I had only been in Cochabamba for a few months (after moving from La Paz), when we learned that an English speaking congregation was going to be starting on Easter.  We jumped right in; Dirk with organization, doctrine, preaching and other odds and ends; Jen with worship leading and teen discipleship.  We were a small part of a great team, and as I reflect back it must have only been for about 15 months.  But they were formative in our life and in the life of CIC.  Ten years later the church has property, a building, over 300 people involved, and a fruitful ministry to internationals and even more importantly to internationally minded Bolivians (a strong part of the original vision of Graham and Gregg).

It is exciting to go back, celebrate with the church, and share Bolivia with Jashton who left Bolivia when he was only two.   It looks like we will also be able to see some of the development work we were involved with in our role with Food for the Hungry.  It will be interesting to see what has changed in the rural areas over 8 years.

Unfortunately due to the limitations of life it can't be a family affair, but Jen graciously said we could go (even if she was jealous).   We depart April 14 and return April 23 - so we can be together as a family, and with our church family, as we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus together on Easter morning.

I'll share as much of the trip as I can in my blog.

All guys are jerks, some are just better actors.

A teenage friend of mine posted this on facebook not too long ago.
"All guys are jerks, some are just better actors."

Sorta fun to think about - what's true in her statement?


False - most time "all" is used, it negates the statement.
      But this takes an emotional statement and applies logic filters, and that misses the point.


True - teenage males are a few million neuron connections short of fully developed neural pathways which are needed for a rational brain.  Therefore, they are going to be jerks, at least some of the time.  That is a good reason not to get to "into" a guy before the age of 20 - but scoping out the options so you know a good one when you see him can be a reasonable strategy...


True - if most gals knew what was going on inside the heads of most guys....

False - is thinking differently, processing differently, prioritizing differently - and the inherent conflicts which arise - worthy of the label "jerk"?


False - there are lots of nice guys, but for some strange reason they don't start getting the girls until the girls are done with the teenage years.  Looking for cool, confident, adventurous - then don't be surprised by the eventual "jerk" factor - for these traits in the teenage years seem to be tied into a self-centered rebellious nature.


True - but the net is cast too narrowly.  All people are jerks, some are just better actors.  Left on our own, we are self-centered, self-focused, self-absorbed - we are jerks!  Jesus came to model and enable a better way.  Allowing God to transform us into something new, something better, something much less "jerky" - it sure beats having to continually work at perfecting our acting skills.  Some adults are really good actors - but transformation of the heart is the best.  


Stop acting - I am Dirk Gieser, a recovering jerk through the grace of God.

My Mom wanted to see this one again

I wrote this back in March of 2005 (pre-blogging). As spring breaks into the northeast (finally) on behalf of my mom I dug it out to share with you.

Do you want to go for a walk?  I grew up in the country, and this was a regular question in our house.  Whether it was with my parents, my sisters or just the dog, walks were an important part of life.  While I have gone on many walks by myself, if given the option I will always choose to walk with someone I care about.  If you want to build a relationship with someone, going on walks together is a great way to do it.

Why is that?  Part of it is the focus, or maybe I should say, the lack of focus.  If you are working with someone, you both are focusing on finishing a project.  If you are out shopping together, you are focused on things and discovery.  But when you go for a walk with someone, the purpose is the walk.  You normally don’t have to concentrate about where you are going, and you can walk without thinking about putting one foot in front of the other.  Walking comes naturally, so you are freed up to focus on what is around you and who you are with.  Going on a walk with someone is a very relational activity.  You are side by side, able to talk, think, enjoy.

But what does this have to do with church?  Well, the amazing thing is that God invites you to go on a walk with him.  Our God is a walking God!

• In the beginning, God comes walking through the garden of Eden looking for Adam and Eve.
• God says to Abraham, "I am God Almighty; Walk before me, and be blameless.”
• The nation of Israel is told, “And I will walk among you, and will be your God, and you shall be my people.”
• The Israelites are told repeatedly to walk in God’s ways, in effect; to walk where God walks.
• And we are told clearly in Micah 6:8 what God requires of us in relation to himself, we are to walk humbly with our God.

So what does it mean when God says, walk with me?  Rather than focus on a list of things to do, and create another long list of things not to do, we need to realize the core reality behind this invitation.  God is a Relational Being!  The all powerful, the eternal, the creator of all, is Relational.  Walking is by its nature relational, and one who invites others to walk with him is relational as well.

God cares about how we live our lives.  God does want us connected to a group of others “walkers” in a church.  God does care what we do with our money, with our time, with our abilities.  But more than anything else, God wants you!  God wants a relationship with you.  God says, come on a life long walk with me.  God sees each one of us as his creation, God wants to adopt every human as a child, but ultimately God yearns to have you as his friend.  Someone who is walking with God, talking with God, sharing their life experiences with God, someone heading where God is heading.

Over this month, as we celebrate Easter, I encourage you to consider your walk with God.  God is saying, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Yes, I watch Survivor - finding redemption

Right now, there is only one show I try and see every week - Survivor.  My wife says I shouldn't admit it, but some time after Wednesday I go to cbs.com to watch what happened to this season's castaways.  It is fascinating to watch the relationships, the motivations of people, the manufactured suspense - it is a bit of societal research.  I've noticed something interesting this season, but to grasp what I'm talking about, you will need to bear with me as a I fill in the non-survivor watchers about this season's "new twist."

The sub-title this season is, "Redemption Island."  The "twist" is that when someone is voted off, they are not gone for good, but sent to live by themselves on Redemption Island (though I see no real indication they are on an actual island).  Then, when the next person is voted off, they too are sent redemption island, where the two face off in a duel - the winner remains, the loser is gone for good.  At some point in the game, the person who has survived redemption island is brought back in and rejoins the tribe.

This season, the second person voted off was Matt.  Matt is self identified as a committed Christian.  This always makes me, as someone who goes by the same label, a little nervous.  But Matt was seemingly voted off because he was a nice guy, because he was bonding with people, because (from what I could tell) he was doing his best to be like Jesus.  He didn't preach, he didn't annoy - I'm liking Matt.  And Matt is still on the show - he has won four duels so far on redemption island - every time pulling up from behind and winning.

But here is the observation:  Matt understands the concept of redemption.  Others on the game do not.  A few people were able to observe the redemption duel, and then report back to the whole tribe what happened.  Matt said to the host something along the lines, "If I can pull this off, it will be greatest story of redemption in Survivor history."  Being one of the first to Redemption Island, he knew that if he could win all the challenges and make it back into the game, it would be amazing, and something worth talking about.  A story of redemption.

But when it was reported back to the tribe, the observers said, "yeah, Matt was all talking about revenge."  At first I thought they must not have heard him right, but then I realized, they might not have the frame work to think like Matt was thinking.  Yes, he was blind-sided.  Yes, he was voted out for being a nice guy.  But Matt wasn't focused on revenge, they couldn't fathom this.  Matt has a faith which helps him grasp forgiveness.  But he also understands the glory of redemption - being restored, bought back, getting another chance.

Redemption - it is not a common theme today.  It will be fun to see if Matt can redeem himself in the game of Survivor, but regardless, he knows that he can never redeem himself in the reality of life.  For the redemption that really matters, we must rely on something beyond ourselves.

To Redeem:

• to make up for; make amends for; offset (some fault,shortcoming, etc.)
• to obtain the release or restoration of, as from captivity, by paying a ransom.