I'm finally beginning to process some of my thoughts from the three nights I spent in Ngaruawahia at IGNITE 2014, the national youth camp of the Wesleyan Methodist Church of New Zealand (WMCNZ). This might take a few blog posts because my attention span is completely shot, so bear with me.
As I continue reflecting on the weekend away at camp, two vivid images come to mind continually.
The first is of the first full day of team challenges. My team, the Blue Smurfs, was pit against the Orange Tigers. There were several formidable opponents in the Orange Tigers, but the one that I remember best is probably a young man by the name of Mikaele. We had several one-on-one run-ins during game time. I knew there was no way my old, achy body would out-run his buff Island warrior build, but I had to give it my best shot anyway.
But it was later on during the camp when I saw him on stage with his youth group in their Fijian traditional dresses that really left a distinct impression. How many other young men do I know who will get their game on as hard core as Mikaele did on the field as they are on a stage singing a worship song, complete with dance moves, looking like they actually want to be on stage getting into worship? Not that many.
The other is of the final rally on the last day of camp. The camp speakers, Rob Reynolds and Frank Ritchie, from TEAR fund gave an "altar call" of sorts. Instead of the usual "Come to Jesus" altar calls, the youth were invited to respond to playing their part in the missio Dei (again, theologically profound--but that will be for a later post). As they walked up to the front, they were greeted by their youth pastors/leaders who would pray with them individually.
During that time of response, I had the privilege of standing beside the youth leader of some of the girls I've had significant conversations with over the weekend of camp. And as each one of them came up, tears overwhelmed as I remembered again why I was a part of this kingdom work--something I thought had been buried deep in the memory boxes of yesteryear.
God is still at work, even as I struggle with my sense of call. And for that, I'm thankful.
Malo Sisu
Showing posts with label Pasifika. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pasifika. Show all posts
17 January 2014
16 January 2014
That's What Makes You Beautiful
I had the privilege of attending the funeral of the brother of one of the ministers of WMCNZ last night. I didn't know him, or even anyone in the family. But many of the family members would have been a part of IGNITE camp over the weekend (more on that in posts to come) if not for the untimely passing, and so a few of the leaders involved in the camp showed up to lend our support.
When I heard the service was going to be about four hours long, I got a bit nervous. I was barely recovered from camp and was afraid I would fall asleep during a four hour long service, and in a language I didn't understand either.
But there was something beautifully spiritual about a Tongan funeral service. Maybe it was the beautiful harmonies of all the songs that interspersed the speaking. (You just HAVE to experience a Pasifika sing-fest. The beauty of that experience is beyond words) Maybe it was the beautiful flowers that decorated the funeral home.
Maybe it was that I was swept back to the church service in "The Blue Church" in Berlin. That spiritual things transcend language and culture. That maybe when we don't understand everything that's going on except for the fact that we're simply sharing the same breathing space and ... I don't know the right word for it ... more than just worshipping, but also basking in the presence of, the same Creator God...
That. That is what makes it beautiful.
When I heard the service was going to be about four hours long, I got a bit nervous. I was barely recovered from camp and was afraid I would fall asleep during a four hour long service, and in a language I didn't understand either.
But there was something beautifully spiritual about a Tongan funeral service. Maybe it was the beautiful harmonies of all the songs that interspersed the speaking. (You just HAVE to experience a Pasifika sing-fest. The beauty of that experience is beyond words) Maybe it was the beautiful flowers that decorated the funeral home.
Maybe it was that I was swept back to the church service in "The Blue Church" in Berlin. That spiritual things transcend language and culture. That maybe when we don't understand everything that's going on except for the fact that we're simply sharing the same breathing space and ... I don't know the right word for it ... more than just worshipping, but also basking in the presence of, the same Creator God...
That. That is what makes it beautiful.
25 March 2013
"Rhythmus" Part 2 - Your Kingdom Come, Your Will Be Done
"Rhythmus," he said, with that familiar whimsical look--the one he got whenever a cheeky or brilliant idea was starting to take shape in his head.
I stared at him blankly.
"Rhythmus," he said again. "It's the spiritual rhythm that binds our community here. We don't do the traditional church model, but we still have this rhythm that keeps our group together. It's a rhythm that keeps us eating together, praying together and studying the Word together."
His words were starting to make a bit of sense, but I wondered if the mix of English and German I've had to function with had affected my ability to understand simple English as Kelley, Aaron and I sat at the dining table trying to piece together the website for the XZBerlin community.
Never mind that I had seen it lived out amongst the team members. That kind of taking care of one another, that intentional fellowship and study... I didn't fully understand the rhythm.
Then one day a few weeks back, I got an e-mail from Joe. Joe and I are better friends on Twitter than e-mail, so I was slightly surprised to get an e-mail from him. He mentioned something about Lent, the journey in the wilderness, the desert experiences, and finding sabbath and a spiritual rhythm.
It was an invitation to a group of friends--a community scattered across the US and here in Auckland--to join in a spiritual rhythm where we, and anyone else whom we knew were keen to join, prayed together, morning and evening, for Kingdom come, for ourselves and for each other. These weren't meant to be intense spiritual times as much as rhythm markers for the day. So we all, scattered across three time zones around the globe, prayed together at 7:30am and 6pm each day wherever we were.
The first day, as I started saying the words, "Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name..." I was swept back to that Blue Church in Berlin, where together we chorused the words in German.
Suddenly I became aware that "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done," meant something far bigger than the simple words I was whispering in my bedroom in Auckland. Because friends in Indiana, Michigan, Ohio and Oklahoma were whispering these same words. The same words people in Germany and all around the world had been whispering throughout ages past. The same words that were whispered at the Pasifika festival only a few weeks later.
Suddenly Rhythmus became much bigger than that website discussion around the Philips' dining table in Berlin.
Suddenly Rhythmus included the friends that sent me the delightful care package only a few months ago when I was in desperate need for a sabbath, without realising I had a sabbath trip planned.
Suddenly Rhythmus included a global family whispering the words together, "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done."
This past week has been one of the more emotionally exhausting ones. There were a couple of very victorious moments, peppered with a couple of very heartbreaking ones, with a side of an answered prayer and one of the most unexpectedly difficult and painful conversations I've had to have in a while.
When it started, I found myself leaning into the prayers of this scattered community, holding on to "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done" like never before.
And then in the middle of it all, I was reminded of promises I made when I first started this chapter in Auckland, and the peace that carried me through because I kept my promises.
And then in the middle of what was about to turn out to be another very difficult day, I heard the words again, "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done"--and from a voice I least expected.
Most who read this blog know that I prefer to let my thoughts simmer for a while before I paint them on the screen so they don't come out ill-intentioned, hurtful or in manners I regret later. Part 2 of this Rhythmus series had been simmering for a while, and I had hoped for a beautiful, happy-ever-after type of ra-ra, celebrate the Rhythm hype.
But tonight, it's 11:44pm as I write this--later than my usual bedtime since I started the 7:30ams. And there's no beautiful, happy-ever-after type of ra-ra hype. Instead, there are tears of release, a very raw sense of pain, and a deep peace and hope in holding on to "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done."
This Lent, I've journeyed the wilderness through some oasis and some very dusty, thorny roads. I've endured the 6:30am alarms, snoozing a bagillion times so I can finally be awake to pray at 7:30am. I've wondered if I was the right person to have gotten thrown into some of the sandstorms because I never felt strong enough. I've learnt to lean into a community that is scattered like the Israelites in exile, and feeling the whispered prayers as we walked our own wilderness in this bigger rhythmus of "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done."
The dust of the wilderness will settle, and we will usher in the coming King with our Hosannas--the King whose Kingdom will reign forever and these seasons of wilderness and exile will be no more. But until then, I will lean into "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done," and the hopeful glimpses of Easter and the empty tomb.
In case you're interested in joining in the spiritual rhythm, here's what it looks like:
At 2 times each day (7:30 a.m. and 6:00 p.m.), everyone involved would commit to the following:
1. Praying the Lord's Prayer (Matthew 6:9-13)
2. Praying the Jesus Creed (Mark 12:29–31)
3. Praying briefly for the people who they know who are involved
4a. In the morning, praying that God would keep them from evil and temptation and thanking God for his provision.
4b. In the evening, confessing any areas where they recall that they sinned and thanking God for his forgiveness.
We are encouraging people to invite others along and don't expect that everyone will even know of all the people who are involved. But the idea is to stay connected to something bigger, so please let me know (by simply leaving your name in the comments below--and location, if you've stumbled upon this space by accident) if you'd like to be a part so I can include you as I pray.
I stared at him blankly.
"Rhythmus," he said again. "It's the spiritual rhythm that binds our community here. We don't do the traditional church model, but we still have this rhythm that keeps our group together. It's a rhythm that keeps us eating together, praying together and studying the Word together."
His words were starting to make a bit of sense, but I wondered if the mix of English and German I've had to function with had affected my ability to understand simple English as Kelley, Aaron and I sat at the dining table trying to piece together the website for the XZBerlin community.
Never mind that I had seen it lived out amongst the team members. That kind of taking care of one another, that intentional fellowship and study... I didn't fully understand the rhythm.
Then one day a few weeks back, I got an e-mail from Joe. Joe and I are better friends on Twitter than e-mail, so I was slightly surprised to get an e-mail from him. He mentioned something about Lent, the journey in the wilderness, the desert experiences, and finding sabbath and a spiritual rhythm.
It was an invitation to a group of friends--a community scattered across the US and here in Auckland--to join in a spiritual rhythm where we, and anyone else whom we knew were keen to join, prayed together, morning and evening, for Kingdom come, for ourselves and for each other. These weren't meant to be intense spiritual times as much as rhythm markers for the day. So we all, scattered across three time zones around the globe, prayed together at 7:30am and 6pm each day wherever we were.
The first day, as I started saying the words, "Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name..." I was swept back to that Blue Church in Berlin, where together we chorused the words in German.
Suddenly I became aware that "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done," meant something far bigger than the simple words I was whispering in my bedroom in Auckland. Because friends in Indiana, Michigan, Ohio and Oklahoma were whispering these same words. The same words people in Germany and all around the world had been whispering throughout ages past. The same words that were whispered at the Pasifika festival only a few weeks later.
Suddenly Rhythmus became much bigger than that website discussion around the Philips' dining table in Berlin.
Suddenly Rhythmus included the friends that sent me the delightful care package only a few months ago when I was in desperate need for a sabbath, without realising I had a sabbath trip planned.
Suddenly Rhythmus included a global family whispering the words together, "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done."
This past week has been one of the more emotionally exhausting ones. There were a couple of very victorious moments, peppered with a couple of very heartbreaking ones, with a side of an answered prayer and one of the most unexpectedly difficult and painful conversations I've had to have in a while.
When it started, I found myself leaning into the prayers of this scattered community, holding on to "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done" like never before.
And then in the middle of it all, I was reminded of promises I made when I first started this chapter in Auckland, and the peace that carried me through because I kept my promises.
And then in the middle of what was about to turn out to be another very difficult day, I heard the words again, "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done"--and from a voice I least expected.
Most who read this blog know that I prefer to let my thoughts simmer for a while before I paint them on the screen so they don't come out ill-intentioned, hurtful or in manners I regret later. Part 2 of this Rhythmus series had been simmering for a while, and I had hoped for a beautiful, happy-ever-after type of ra-ra, celebrate the Rhythm hype.
But tonight, it's 11:44pm as I write this--later than my usual bedtime since I started the 7:30ams. And there's no beautiful, happy-ever-after type of ra-ra hype. Instead, there are tears of release, a very raw sense of pain, and a deep peace and hope in holding on to "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done."
This Lent, I've journeyed the wilderness through some oasis and some very dusty, thorny roads. I've endured the 6:30am alarms, snoozing a bagillion times so I can finally be awake to pray at 7:30am. I've wondered if I was the right person to have gotten thrown into some of the sandstorms because I never felt strong enough. I've learnt to lean into a community that is scattered like the Israelites in exile, and feeling the whispered prayers as we walked our own wilderness in this bigger rhythmus of "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done."
The dust of the wilderness will settle, and we will usher in the coming King with our Hosannas--the King whose Kingdom will reign forever and these seasons of wilderness and exile will be no more. But until then, I will lean into "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done," and the hopeful glimpses of Easter and the empty tomb.
In case you're interested in joining in the spiritual rhythm, here's what it looks like:
At 2 times each day (7:30 a.m. and 6:00 p.m.), everyone involved would commit to the following:
1. Praying the Lord's Prayer (Matthew 6:9-13)
2. Praying the Jesus Creed (Mark 12:29–31)
3. Praying briefly for the people who they know who are involved
4a. In the morning, praying that God would keep them from evil and temptation and thanking God for his provision.
4b. In the evening, confessing any areas where they recall that they sinned and thanking God for his forgiveness.
We are encouraging people to invite others along and don't expect that everyone will even know of all the people who are involved. But the idea is to stay connected to something bigger, so please let me know (by simply leaving your name in the comments below--and location, if you've stumbled upon this space by accident) if you'd like to be a part so I can include you as I pray.
12 March 2013
"Rhythmus" Part 1
The first time it happened, we were in Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche. Or what became affectionately known as "The Blue Church". It was my first week in Berlin. Never mind that I had had a year of university level German by then; if not for the undergraduate class where four of our assignments involved studying and creating a liturgical order of worship, I would not have had a clue about what was going on.That was, until we got to "Das Vater unser Gebet". I still only understood about 5% of what was going on, but I gathered something about Father and praying. And then the chorus of German voices saying the words together. Something stirred in my heart as I simply read the text from the pages along with the other voices. I didn't know word for word what I was saying, but I knew in English I was saying, "Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name..."
It occurred to me for the first time that even before I was challenged to memorise the words of the Lord's Prayer as a primary school kid, people all around the world had been reciting the same words together. I was merely one of the voices joining in this familiar rhythm.
And then it happened again this weekend. The Pasifika festival, a celebration of Pacific Island nations, was on this weekend, and for the first time this year, there was also a unity worship service on Sunday morning. Naturally, I was there.
Never mind that we're in the middle of a draught and it was sweltering hot in the park that morning. I'm usually pretty skeptical about unity services because they can be very well-intentioned but not always well-planned. It was one of the most beautiful services I've been to in a while.
And then it happened, right in the middle of a congregational prayer in Samoan. The voice invited the Church to join in with The Lord's Prayer in our mother tongues. The chorus of voices in all the different Island languages, and I in my lame English (I know, I know... It's been on my bucket list to learn it in at least Mandarin and German, but I haven't gotten there yet), saying together, "Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name..."
Except this time, it was even more meaningful for me. I heard my own voice join in the chorus of Island tongues, with friends in Berlin, and the friends in the States who have been journeying with me through this wilderness season of Lent.
To be continued...
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