Willowburn

I’m at Willow Creek Community Church this week, attending a conference. I really don’t like it here.

I don’t hate Willow. I like Willow. I like their goals of reaching people and training churches. That’s all good. I just feel so uncomfortable when I’m in the building. I think it must just be me. In my job, I regularly attended conferences, so I’m rather jaded, I suppose.

But there’s something else going on. I’m feeling so awkward now around wealth, I guess. I notice big houses more than I used to, I notice expensive furnishings and how people spend their money. It’s not comfortable to be this way. I feel like a poor man trapped in a rich man’s body.

So why am I here? I’m not really sure. Our director of programming approached me and offered to have the church pay for the registration fee. I knew that it would still cost me a bundle for transportation and lodging…but when she said this, I felt God saying that he would cover the rest of the cost. He did, too.

So that’s why I’m here, because I got the idea that God wanted me here. So I’m just guessing as to the specific goals God has — which is kind of typical. I decided that maybe there’s someone around I need to meet. I’ve already met a couple of young guys in ministry, so maybe that’s what it’s about for me.

Which makes it ok to be here. I’m just stumbling along with my eyes open. Me, a rich guy on the outside, being with other rich people, funded by rich people, at a rich church. I feel so out of place that I wonder if it shows.

Fear

I’m afraid. No, make that terrified. I have trouble sleeping. The fear comes over me in the middle of the day. I’m afraid for myself. I’m afraid for my children. I’m not afraid of gangs or theft. I’m not afraid of physical harm or even ridicule. I’m terrified of complacency. When I look out of my window, I see beautiful yards, large comfortable homes, nice cars, happy people. I’m afraid that I’ll start believing that everyone lives this way. I’m afraid that my kids already believe that. The fear is so great, that I’m going to have to do something about it. Because of my fear, I think I’m going to have to move. I think I might have to live in a neighborhood where things don’t look so nice, where things don’t smell, sound or feel very nice. But, at least it would be a better representation of the reality of our world. It might keep me and my children from just enjoying the things we have and forgetting to do something about all the people who don’t have the same opportunites. It might free me from this fear.

A Tale of Two Twenties

Let me tell you about two twentysomethings I encountered around Christmas. They are a study in contrasts.

The first is the nephew of a friend of mine. He was in town briefly before the holidays and my friend asked if I would talk with him, because he was interested in helping out Katrina victims. I met with him and his traveling companion. Both young men were in their early twenties, and both were excited. Continue reading “A Tale of Two Twenties”

What I believe

On every church’s web site, there’s always a statement of faith — the “what I believe” part. This isn’t a church site, but here’s what I believe. It’s from a note I wrote to my wife back in January.

I believe that I should be giving my money away now to people who need it, rather than saving it for my own future use, just in case I live so long that I can’t make money anymore and no one cares about me. I believe I shouldn’t be saving for my kids’ college education, just so they can get high-paying jobs and start saving for the time when they also are too old to make money anymore.

I believe that if my life is too noisy to listen to God, then I should take drastic measures — like quitting my job — to quiet it down.

I believe that it’s more important for me to teach my kids to recognize and obey God’s voice than to do anything else. If they succeed at that, then everything else will be given to them.

The thing is, every other Christian will say that same things. It’s the ones who actually DO it who are different. My prayer is to be someone who is different.