Author: Christ's Children Ministries

As Thanksgiving approaches, I am reflecting today on my gratitude for beauty and the way it reminds us of God’s presence in our lives. Some people are able to enjoy beauty in their homes—with pleasing designs and beautiful furnishings. Some can enjoy beauty in travel to lovely places with breathtaking vistas of seas or mountains.

But no matter where we live and what our means, we can enjoy the beauties of creation if we take the time to notice and appreciate the handiwork of the Creator in the world.

As the beautiful colors of autumn fade to the leafless greys and browns of our Minnesota November, we can still find the beauties of creation if we keep our eyes open and our hearts attentive to grace—the tiny golden gloss of the setting sun peeking through the grey at just the right moment during the afternoon commute, the bright pink of an overwintering geranium petal, the rich smell of sautéing onions and garlic in the beginning of soup making, the patterns of rain drops on an old watering can, the flicker of candlelight at dusk. I have a friend who is suffering and her home is filled with music. Even as the heart and spirit are weary, the rich sound of beautiful instruments and voices provides nourishment to the soul.

Some days we may have to look harder to find the beauty or we may have had our gazes diminished by attitudes that cloud our ability to appreciate where joys can be found. I recently had a conversation with someone who had visited a vacation spot where I had also been. The person spoke only of what she couldn’t buy and do. Although their itinerary contained more costly events than my own, you would not have thought we had been to the same place. As I spoke of the beautiful red rocks, the unbelievable flowers and arrangements, the fountains and music and colors and weather, she looked at me as though I was speaking another language.

When we are tired and weary, when life is hard or when it is easier, the ability to look for God’s presence in the beautiful is available to all of us and blessed are those who cultivate the ability to find small beauties each day that remind us that God is great and good and constantly recreating and redeeming in our world and in our lives.

Happy Thanksgiving!

In our compassion, we don’t like to see people suffer. And so our instincts are aimed at preventing and alleviating suffering. No doubt that is a good impulse. But if we really want to reach out to others who are suffering, we should be careful not to be like Job’ s friends, not to do our “helping” with the presumption that we can fix things, get rid of them or make them “better.”

Eugene Peterson in the preface to the book of Job from The Message

I have been meditating on the book of Job recently and have thought these words would be part of the study guide if I ever taught Urban Ministry 101. I dare say, they would be required reading for Ministry 101. I have spent decades in works of listening, love and service. I have watched friends and associates leave the faith or move on to greener pastures. I do know there are times when I feel I cannot bear one more exposure to the way evil can prosper, injustice can rear its ugly head or suffering can befall those who have suffered too much already.

In order to live and use the gifts God has given me, I have had to learn to let go of fix-it tendencies and my own need for making things better. When you get up close and personal to the brokenness of this world and find out that life isn’t fair, you learn that there is not a satisfactory answer to the whys of suffering. I have a personality that feels things deeply and experiences other people’s pain just like others do the weather. In order to survive, I have had to learn to be present to other people’s pain, be witness to their suffering, companion them so that they are not alone in the valley, all the while trusting and giving over the pain and suffering into the love and mystery of God, rather than taking it into myself or trying to make it go away. It is not a practice that is ever accomplished perfectly, so I appreciate your prayers as I live this out in my daily life.

I pray all the time for God’s guidance and insight as I listen and companion others and God is faithful. Recently I bore witness to memories of a childhood, horrifying in its abuse and wretchedness, where trauma and stress linger as a result. God had prepared me for the time and was present as, together, we were able to see that even in the most awful places, when evil was tall and ugly, God was not absent. It was a tremendous gift of the Holy Spirit as my friend shared her sufferings and I trust that God continues the process of healing and redemption from all that evil. Please pray that God would continue to be mightily at work bringing freedom and rest into this traumatized heart and life.

I close with a few more wise words from Eugene Peterson: So, instead of continuing to focus on preventing suffering—which we simply won’t be very successful at anyway—perhaps we should begin entering the suffering, participating insofar as we are able—entering the mystery and looking around for God. In other words, we need to quit feeling sorry for people who suffer and instead look up to them, learn from them, and—if they will let us—join them in protest and prayer. Pity can be nearsighted and condescending, shared suffering can be dignifying and life-changing. As we look at Job’s suffering and praying and worshiping, we see that he has already blazed a trail of courage and integrity for us to follow.

We appreciate your support and prayers as we continue to attend the school of suffering with our friends while we also bear witness to the God of love who is always there, even when we need the work of the Holy Spirit to know and trust that is true.

Though the fig tree does not blossom, and no fruit is on the vines; though the produce of the olive fails, and the fields yield no food; though the flock is cut off from the fold, and there is no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, and makes me tread upon the heights.

Habakkuk 3:17-19

We all experience discouragement. Sometimes the little losses—worries about kids, home repairs, health issues, strained finances, dreams deferred—can bring some days of disappointment. But those everyday things can shrink in significance when I am brought close to real tragedies and injustices. It seems the recent years have had more than their share of sadness and trials. Too many hard, unfair and painful things have come to visit those I love too many times. Sometimes my heart is broken and sore and there is no feeling that supports faith. Discouragement is real. It is part of real life to cry out to God wondering why bad things happen to people.

Asking those hard questions about where God is when there is suffering and injustice and pain are really crucial in the life of a believer. The Psalmists teach us that God is big enough to hear our cries of pain and anger. God is big enough to receive our questions and listen to our arguments.   We may always turn to the God who doesn’t seem to be there with our tears, our sorrow, our pain and frustration and we may ask the God we cannot see or feel to give faith and trust when we have no faith or trust.

I know some people who have seen the suffering and injustice of the world and have concluded that there is no God or that a God who doesn’t act to fix the injustice or suffering more quickly isn’t a God who they want to know anyway. I understand their questions and know how it feels when there is no answer to the question WHY?, when there is no answer for the suffering. But I also know that it is possible to keep waiting for the God who is silent. Many times across these years I have turned to the book of Habakkuk to spend time with a man who clearly was waiting and waiting amidst great desolation for God to act upon the sufferings of his people in the world.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we got our way and God rained down justice and mercy and love and fixed all these broken things RIGHT NOW? I think I would like that. But I also know, past the anger, in the waiting and the heartache, something else can grow from those ashes and the place of desolation—a knowing and trusting in God even though nothing good happens and we feel no happiness. And one day, there comes a still and plain presence of the One who knew unspeakable injustice, suffering and emptiness;  amidst our questions and sorrow, in our brokenness, we are no longer alone.

I pray that those who suffer would have the courage to turn towards God in the dark and be given the grace to wait for God when God seems silent and far-off. We need to carry one another’s burdens and pray when our friends are brokenhearted. I am so grateful for those who pray for me when I begin to lose hope: what would I do without you? Thank you for the prayers that sustain us as we dwell among the brokenhearted.

It’s always rewarding to encounter young adults who spent time in our ministry as children and youth. I see many encouraging examples of young people who have gone on to lead fruitful and self-affirming lives; and most of them, like many of us, are simply lives still in progress. To be honest, for me, I get a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment if I encounter a young man who is still alive, not in jail or on drugs; and possesses the education and experience to forge a meaningful life for himself. When I see that I feel a sense of fulfillment. But this is often not the case. I love hearing the stories of victory and faith, but love requires me to hear the stories of loss, despair and regret.

Recently I stumbled onto one of our young people from years ago, who was dearly loved yet deeply troubled and spent a lot of time with us. He’s a grown man now and we hadn’t heard from him in awhile. We didn’t know if he was dead, in jail or what. When I saw him I began running through my list of assessments in my mind:

Well he’s obviously alive and he’s not in jail so that’s good. How does he look? He looks ok… doesn’t look like he’s living on the streets, but why is he here in the middle of the day when most adults are working? Hmmm… He’s happy to see me so that’s good. Not embarrassed or anything like he would be if he were up to no good.

We began to talk and catch up with each other. I find out that he’s in between jobs and has a girlfriend but no kids (always a good sign). We continue talking and, like always, here comes the usual question: “Hey Chris, do you still take kids to camp?” What follows are fond recollections of fun times and shared experiences and lessons learned… truly a spiritual reunion. “Man I wish I could go to camp again, remember that time when…?” It’s amazing to see their faces light up as they relive what for many of them has been the best moments of their life. A week where they can forget about the stress and dysfunction of their daily existence and just be a kid and have fun. And this gives me the opportunity to ask questions and get at some of the deeper issues about their lives now, as I put my own spin on the memory lane stroll. “Remember that time when you were in trouble and God helped you? How are things going for you now? Remember that time when you swore off running the streets? How are you living now? Remember God? Remember Christ and how he loves you? He’s still with you, you know.” And after our conversation he moved on, encouraged by the memories, and reminded of who he is in Christ.

Summer camp has been a transforming experience for so many young people in our ministry, people for whom it has been the best part of their youth. It’s that time again when we are taking kids to camp to take part in experiences which will impact them for the rest of their lives. We do two camps for elementary to high school age youth: Kids Across America, a sports camp in Missouri, and our own Manhood Camp, both targeting young black boys in the city. We are hoping to take 30 youth to camp this summer at a cost of $300 each. Can you make a special contribution to support our ministry this summer to help kids go to camp? Any amount helps. Cause everyone needs a “remember that time” experience by which they may be rejuvenated, and reminded of who they are when times are tough.

For there is still a vision for the appointed time; it speaks of the end, and does not lie. If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay. Habakkuk 2:3

Graduation season is here again and this year brings the end of high school for our son Javan and for Alize, the daughter of a woman we first met in our ministry to children 25 years ago. A life in urban ministry has forced me to learn lessons of patience, waiting, faith and trust that I may not have learned in another kind of life. Those lessons have not always come free of sadness. Martin Luther King once said that the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. Sometimes that long arc is hard to wait for and easy to lose hope for when the present moment seems beset with the old refrain of “three steps forward, two steps back” for the children and families we love. The tentacles of poverty and unhealthy family dynamics can reach across the generations and into young lives in ways that wound still.

Chris and I have learned, over the years, to savor and delight in every little marker of life and light and hope and grace that we get to witness in the lives of the children and families we serve. I carry those little jewels of grace around with me and take them out of my pocket to enjoy and celebrate as often as I am able.

This year’s graduation is one of those jewels. We are celebrating not only the graduation of our precious boy Javan, but we are celebrating a remarkable event in Alize’s graduation. We are celebrating, through God’s grace and power, the fact that Alize’s mom Julia has been able to give her a foundation and opportunities that she herself did not enjoy in childhood. We are celebrating our friend Julia and all that she has done to give her children a safer and more secure beginning in life than she ever knew. This is nothing short of miraculous and we celebrate and marvel and sing of the wonders of God’s grace that have made this come to pass. Through so much struggle and hardship and the continuing challenges of poverty, Alize’s mom and dad have given her a better start in life. She will graduate from high school next week and has been accepted into the Power of YOU scholarship program at Minneapolis Community and Technical College and will start her studies there in the fall.

Hurray for Alize! Hurray for Javan! And hurray for the great and loving God who holds their lives and futures in the palm of his hand—where all their hopes and dreams are secured. Thanks for celebrating with us this jewel of God’s grace!

“Do not cry; for she is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him knowing that she was dead. But he took her by the hand and called out, ”Child, get up!” Her spirit returned at once. Then he directed them to give her something to eat. Luke 8:52-55

Recently someone asked me how we have managed to spend 30 years in this kind of ministry—knowing the heartaches and disappointments that have been a regular part of the journey. But isn’t that really true in all our lives—into each life some rain must fall—and if we live long enough we learn that we cannot be immune from the pain and brokenness of this fallen world?

I know one thing that has been of great help to me along the way and that has been learning to pray the Gospels—meditating on and imagining being right there in the story—with Jesus. I have been the child crawling into Jesus’ lap when he said, “Come unto me.” I have been the widow who grabbed the hem of his cloak and the disciple scared to death in the storm.

For the past couple of months, I have been praying the story of Jairus, who came to Jesus because his child was dying. Over the weeks, I have felt God’s words sinking deeply into my heart. In the story Jairus comes to call on Jesus and Jesus gets occupied helping someone else so that by the time they get to Jairus’s house it is too late. Everyone is crying. Jairus’s little girl is dead. Then, Jesus enters the house. And those who are closest to the situation laugh when Jesus says the little girl is sleeping—because they KNOW that she is dead. But when Jesus takes her hand and tells her to get up, she gets up at once. She IS ALIVE.

Broken finances, broken relationships, broken bodies, broken career, broken marriage, broken children, broken hearts, broken dreams…when Jesus is invited in, he brings NEW LIFE. What we thought was dead and gone was ONLY SLEEPING…until Jesus brings it life.

I don’t know if any rain or storms or desert are your particular road to walk right now, but I invite you to pray the gospels with me so that you may walk with Jesus toward the wholeness and holiness that is our life in Christ. We are encouraged and strengthened by your prayers and kindness and gifts.

We are gearing up for the happy celebration of high school graduation for our son, Javan and for Alize, a young lady from our church family whose mom we have known since she was about seven years old. Sometimes it takes a long time to get to see things come alive…but our hope is in the One who comes to bring life.

“Statistics say that only one out of four of you will make it to manhood! Statistically one out of every four of you will be in jail, one will be addicted to drugs or otherwise incapacitated, and one will be dead before you reach the age of twenty-five. Only a few out of this group you will make it! Who’s it gonna be? Who wants to have a fulfilling life? Who wants to make it to manhood?”

This is a talk I give in one form or another to all the boys I work with. The statistics I refer to are those for black boys growing up in the inner city. All of the boys raised their hands after my address. No one plans to grow up and go to jail, or be on drugs, or be dead… but without positive intervention that’s how many black youth end up. Generally the statistics bore themselves out. Of this cohort, some are incarcerated, some have been killed or injured through gang violence, some haven’t been able to escape the life of the streets yet, but a few are doing well.

Kyle was in this group. A wonderful and challenging group of boys; but the odds were stacked against them. Most of them went to camp with me, played basketball, and participated in our mentoring program, but they all struggled growing up. It is no easy task to avoid the pitfalls facing young black men here. They all struggled to stay focused and avoid distractions to learning in school. They struggled with family dysfunction, being poor, crime, gangs and rampant violence. Kyle struggled with these things just like all the other boys. But somehow he made it.

Instead of joining a gang or running the streets he found positive pursuits to be involved in. He often had help, but mostly he took the initiative to stay positively engaged. The opportunities were there, but like every other young person here, you have to go looking for it, and find something that fits you. For some it’s sports, for some it’s work; for Kyle it was church, choir, and the drama club at school. He worked hard at school, surrounded himself with positive people, and prepared for college. At this point some of the other boys in this group had already given up on life and had dropped out of school, running the streets, getting high and engaging in other self destructive behavior. But not Kyle. He found a group of friends who were into what he was into, being positive and staying in school. He stayed involved in church and helped me many times as a counselor at camp.

He graduated from high school and set his sights on college. He got accepted but had a difficult first year. Kyle was not immune to the effects of financial and emotional stress all his life. But he refused to quit. He regrouped and went back to college, and four years later he graduated with an education degree. This past fall he got a job as a teacher in an elementary school just blocks away from the house he grew up in, and fulfills a crucial role as a black man in this community. Lisa and I are so very proud of him. Not only has he succeeded in growing up, but he has left a blueprint for others to follow. He is a role model… he is a success story… he is a man.

I grew up in a small town in Minnesota where everyone looked like me and the major difference among friends and neighbors was mostly being Catholic or Lutheran. I went to a small college where the percentage of students of color was tiny. Somehow, by God’s grace, I have ended up in a life where my family, my friends and my neighborhood are woven from the diversity of the world. So, for many years I have lived a life where I stand with my feet planted in two worlds—remembering both who I was and where I came from and honoring the wider world that has become part of me as well. It is a place of privilege and I know it.

Over the years, I have born witness to many of the difficulties and hardships related to law enforcement that happen to my family members and friends because they are black. I still remember the confusion of my youngest son, the first time a security guard followed him around the Target toy aisles. I have lost track of the number of times family members and friends have had traffic stops for things which I myself have never been pulled over for even once. I will never forget the two nights my beloved godson spent in jail because the police officer would not listen to him or examine his registration and vin number and believe that someone had replaced his license plate with that of a stolen vehicle. I am utterly convinced if it had been me, in my minvan, instead of him in his minvan, an explanation and some research would have averted being booked and held in jail. My first world taught a belief that stuff happens to people because they do something to attract censure or disapproval—the belief that bad things happen to those who deserve it. But God’s grace and some maturity have shown me that the world really doesn’t operate that way—even though it can comfort us to believe that it does.

I have born witness to the injustices and suffering that have been happening across our country that sprout from seeds of bias and racism and I have grieved for the pain that it brings not only to the families and friends of those directly involved, but to those I love as it presses against their pain from countless small and larger indignities and injustice they have born across their lives. For me, a very real piece of the sadness is that it has also caused a questioning of faith and wavering of trust in a God who knows and loves them, for some of God’s precious children.

If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea. Matthew 18:6

I am praying that the church will not be silent, nor those who love God ignorant of the pain of our brothers and sisters.   One Sunday Chris taught “Why Black Lives Matter.” Our church becomes a place to dialogue and question and share and work out these hard things together. I have brought these concerns to every meeting of believers I have been part of lately—

I know the privilege I have with feet planted in worlds that don’t always meet and I seek God’s grace to use it every opportunity that presents itself. I pray that all God’s people will take up Jesus’ call to mercy and justice in unique and personal ways so that the kingdom of heaven can come where it is needed.

I spent the month of December reflecting on Immanuel, “God with us.” In spite of the many hardships and sufferings in this world, we are blessed to have One who knows firsthand how hard this world can be and has shown a way to live that overcomes the world.

How grateful we are to be bearers of Christ here in the city of Minneapolis! Whether we are encouraging young boys to read, driving kids to basketball practice, cooking food for community meals, leading a Bible study or listening in prayer through spiritual direction, we pray always that God’s love and grace might, by the power of the Holy Spirit, be imparted to those we meet.

Chris is continuing his mentoring work in the Minneapolis public schools, encouraging young boys to grow into men of integrity. As he volunteers time in the school, he is always asked to do more, as the leaders see the way he connects with young people. The practices for two basketball teams take up several evenings a week and Saturdays are filled with all the necessary driving and logistics for two teams. It is a bonus for Chris that our son is helping coach one team this season. It is also a blessing to have a core group of high school guys that includes our youngest son, Ezra, who meet regularly for Bible study and fun activities. We have two high school seniors this year, our son Javan and Alize,, the daughter of one of our oldest “children in the Lord.” We are spending time helping them prepare and plan for their next steps as they finish this last year of high school and whatever God has for them next.

We had a wonderful holiday season with many holy moments. Our annual Christmas party was lots of fun and we were so blessed to have some of our college students back for their break. We are so proud of how they are working hard and succeeding in spite of obstacles and difficulties. What a joy to see them come into the house, with a friend or two in tow. The holiday season also brought about the marriage engagement of one of our children in the Lord. How we rejoice that God has been working to bring the growth and healing that has made that possible.

Last week was one of those crazy weeks at house church where people just keep coming in and we are squeezing extra chairs into the circle. A young man whose family moved away some years ago found his way to church last week. We stay in the same place and they can always find us—and we pray that as they look for us again that they are also looking to draw closer to the One who has never moved away from them.

So we continue our labor of love, always grateful for your prayers and support, which are used by God to sustain us in this ministry.

“Come and give Him praise! Come let us magnify His name… Immanuel!

The Son of God, Holy One! Hallowed be, Thy kingdom come! Elohim!”

Merry Christmas ya’ll!

This is part of the lyrics to O Come All Ye Faithful by Tramaine Hawkins. I play Christmas worship songs in my car this time of year when I’m picking up boys for basketball practice, games and various outings. This particular chorus brings me to a state of worship quite easily. I always wonder what the boys think of my music… Sometimes I spend close to two hours in the car with them dropping off and picking up. There are usually conversations going on, but I like to think that the message of the music I play is seeping into their consciousness somehow. At any rate, they’re not complaining about it….which is what they do when I play my Christian rock and roll. Perhaps they’re paying more attention than it appears…

I pray that they are, and that they can access the peace of Christ in spite of the turmoil that springs up often in their daily lives. This one has had a recent spate of violence near his house, another is having problems at school… This one is worried because there is no food in the house and his parent is unemployed, another doesn’t know where his family will live after they are evicted this month… Although there are many important issues on the national consciousness right now, for me it always comes back to what is happening in the lives of these little ones right here at home.

I pray that the uproar over needless and unfortunate deaths of black men at the hands of police officers leads to a deeper national dialogue about institutional racism and real substantive change in our society. Our assertion in this ministry has always been that Black lives matter and that the lives of the unchurched poor matter.   But before our lives matter to anyone else, our lives have to matter to ourselves. And for many we’re getting the point across, as evidenced by the young woman who grew up in this ministry and this neighborhood going to college and doing well, …the young man graduating college and taking a good job influencing children in the neighborhood he grew up in, …another young man learning a trade and providing for his family. Black lives matter.

They matter to God and his Son sacrificed His life to demonstrate that fact. The birth of Christ on Christmas morning is a celebration of this truth. Black lives do matter. All of our lives matter, because God became flesh in the person of Jesus Christ. And because my life matters, so does yours. Immanuel, “God with us”… how I love that name! It says it all.

Thank you for your support of this ministry. The Lord bless you and your family!