Ministry Update: An Introduction to "The Bridge"

Dear friends,

Two years ago, you journeyed with me to Auckland, New Zealand where I had the opportunity to serve alongside Westside Christian Fellowship (WCF), the Church of God congregation here. It has been two great years of celebrations and struggles; in all, an incredible learning experience I would not have traded for the world. I am thankful for God’s faithfulness and your friendship that has sustained me. As the year draws to a close, my term with WCF will also be concluding. I am excited to share with you about a new ministry that will be starting next year.

The Bridge, Auckland
The Bridge is a collaborative project between the National Ministries of the Church of God, New Zealand and other local organizations in the heart of downtown Auckland. The ministry focuses on developing relationships with international students at Auckland University of Technology (AUT) that will provide foundation for spiritual growth that can be sustained after graduation.

While this ministry has come together in a form and timing I had least expected, that the pieces have fallen into place has only confirmed that God’s hand has been at work weaving it all together. My personal experience as an international student at Anderson University (AU) makes the ministry of The Bridge close to home for me. What helped me flourish as an undergraduate at AU was the presence of the International Students Association, directed by Scott Martin. Scott and Anjie’s home was always open to us as a hang-out spot for game nights, (soccer) World Cups and Superbowls. It was a safe space to be homesick, and to tell stories and make food from our home cultures. Our desire is for The Bridge to provide a similar space for students at AUT.

Partners
Currently, there are on-going conversations with other local organizations to create partnerships that will support each other as we recognize that this ministry cannot exist by itself. International Students Ministries of New Zealand (ISMNZ) is a chaplaincy programme that serves international university students in New Zealand. They offer English as a Second Language (ESL) activities for students who want to brush up on language skills, as well as Bible Study groups that focus on discipleship and evangelism. We are exploring ways to work together to offer a greater variety of resources for students.

Through my current role at WCF, I also have had the opportunity to develop relationships with the Wesleyan Methodist Church of New Zealand (WMCNZ). Rev. Dr. Richard Waugh (national superintendent) and Rev. Amber Livermore (national youth consultant) have played key roles in the brainstorming process for The Bridge. While they have a vibrant national youth ministry at the moment, there is concern that we will lose the youth as they graduate from high school and enter university. We are hopeful that The Bridge can become a safe space for them to explore questions of faith and spirituality.

We are also hoping to partner with local churches to provide “adopt-a-student” schemes and other similar programmes. We currently have the support of WCF and The NZ Journey Community, a ministry led by Rev. Janice Spearritt (ordained minister of the Church of God), and will continue conversations with other congregations in the area to create a network of churches that we can point students to.

And we want you on board as well. Here are some ways you can partner with us:
Begin praying

• Pray for the students that we will be interacting with. Even if they are still in high school at the moment, begin praying that our interactions with them will bring spiritual fruit.
• Pray that we will find an affordable space that can serve both as a ministry house and housing for me.
• Pray for the ministry partners who will come on board, that we may all be able to build relationships with students that will support them along their journey.
• Pray that we will be able to jump through all the hoops to get The Bridge officially recognized as a religious charity organization locally.

Financial gifts
New Zealand immigration and charities commission require that we have evidence of USD$30,000 per year for The Bridge to be registered as an organisation that can sponsor my visa. This amount will cover my living expenses as well as underwrite ministry costs. Will you, your church and/or missions committee consider partnering with The Bridge in this way? Information on where you can send funds will be available soon. · 

The less-conventional ways
Part of the vision of The Bridge is to become a network of resources. In the coming weeks, we will be creating a web presence on Facebook, Twitter (follow @BridgeAKL) and the official The Bridge website. Consider partnering with us through offering resources such as sharing devotional thoughts, event/party ideas, recipes or anything you think a university student might need.

And we hope you will stay in touch. We would love to share stories of what is happening here, and be kept informed of how we might be able to support you as well.

Thank you once again for your friendship and all the different ways you have partnered with the Church of God in New Zealand. We are better when we are together.

Arohanui

Holy Week Treasure Trove

In the days when I worked at Church of God Ministries, we were used to getting phonecalls about the medical conditions or the passing of a minister or retired minister. I remember one of the ladies saying once, "It always happens in threes." She was referring to funerals, of course.

Holy Week this year has been one of those. It happened in threes--not funerals in our case, just... life. You know, the usual big upheavals. And because I take, "i carry your heart," the words of great ecclesiologist, e.e. cummins, way too seriously some times, this week... Well, for lack of fancy vocabulary, this week just plain sucked.

My worldview was shaken all over again as I lived into the life of a family in the midst of pain.
My take on gender roles and the feminist movement that had been slowly taking shape over the last few years were suddenly ripped apart and splattered all over the walls as if a druggy vandal had gotten hold of ugly red pain, and I no longer knew where I stood.
My understanding of social injustice shifted as my own tears mingled with those that I wiped away. The perhaps unintentional actions of one or two can so greatly hurt another.

Too many answers I was looking for.
Too much hurt to carry.
Too many situations that will remain unresolved for a while.
Too many nights of crying, "Why, God?" and "My shoulders aren't big enough for these."

In the midst of it all, I heard the words of the One that called me to this place.
"My child, remember when I brought you here, all I asked from you was to love this land and these people. I'm the one with the answers. You're the one with the skin on to carry My love."

And I began to remember the One had always been at work.

I saw it in the whanau that showed up every day to make sure there was food in everyone's stomachs, and to help calm the upheavals.
I saw it in the simple thank yous and the return of laughter to the dining table and the bedrooms.
I saw it in the tickle fights and the big hugs.

I heard it in the "How are you?"s that demanded a longer-than-five-second response.
I heard it in the "Call us anytime, even if it's 2am."
I heard it in the simple reminders to continue to be who we were created to be, not what circumstances want us to become.

And then yesterday morning, I realised how much I needed a little bit of liturgy to bring calm back into my week. Nina and I were both half awake when I first brought up the idea of trying to pull together a Seder meal, but we pulled it off anyway, and the whanau showed up when they showed up. It wasn't anything fancy, and halfway through the liturgy, I started beating myself up over not taking the time to find a more first-timer-friendly text.

But it wasn't so much about the meal or the liturgy itself.
It was taking time to remember the sacred things.
It was taking time to share stories.
It was taking time to affirm each other in our journey.

It was allowing these ladies to be the "church mums" I've missed.
It was allowing them to speak into my life.
It was allowing them to ask about my story, and to half-heartedly admit I was more qualified for what I do than I like talking or thinking about.
It was allowing them to say, "You may be a nerd, but you are OUR nerd."
It was allowing them to affirm my call as a woman in ministry, and to hear them say, "We know this isn't an easy calling, but you are OUR pastor, and we will do pastoral care for our pastor."

And in the silence of the night as the dust of the wilderness settled for a bit, all that's left was to whisper a word of thanks as I remember the One that started this business of footwashing.

Faith and the Human Experience

I was talking to an old friend, Ben, recently. Apparently his existential crisis has hit an all-new level that would be his personal best so far. This was, of course, curious to me because the Singaporean society seemed like the least likely breeding ground for the ideologies of post-christendom. We may have a first-world economy, but our theology is still very third-world. Which is perfectly fine, until we stumble upon a little "trouble-maker," like my friend Ben.

Strange timing also, that I stumbled upon a chapter of my life from ten years ago when life was simple and "Jesus" was the answer I would give because that's what I thought people wanted to hear. I go through phases where I long for the days when the good old christian girl in me could just as easily have been the star of the Chris Rice song, Me and Becky. I still grieve that those days are long-gone because I didn't have to bear the responsibilities I carry now.

But the reality is, those days are gone. Ten years is along time, and to pretend that all the junk that happened in the last ten years didn't exist would not only be marginalizing my story and my grief, but also the creativity of the Redeemer that weaved all these pieces together. And I cannot go on pretending the hurt in the world doesn't exist, or that Grace did not surprise my conventional definitions of the Creator's imagination when it weaved its way in to redeem all these broken pieces.

And then I stumbled upon the idea of "faith and the human experience" -- something I have no doubt I would have already figured out if I had only paid more attention to Dr. Overstreet's Faith and Human Development class in undergrad.

Human experience is wondering how falling sick from alternating between the steaming hot dish-room that was my first job in college and the unbearable (remember, this is the girl from the tropical island-city) Anderson winters four days a week was an appropriate response from god to my attempt to answer my call to ministry.
Faith is the realisation that the ministry of washing dishes is essential for table fellowship (a big part of the Church of God tradition I claim as heritage).

Human experience is trying to make the best of a $35/week income by humbly accepting your parents' help with rent while surviving on $2/day (Taco Bell's $1.89 bean burrito can make for a filling lunch AND dinner if you're willing to ride your bike out) when savings ran out.
Faith is the realisation Someone's always looking out.

Human experience is facing the temptation every year to give up all this "call to ministry" nonsense for a better material life in the home-country where the economy is still one of the most stable in the world.
Faith is the realisation a dream happened nearly ten years ago about things to come, and that Someone already knew way back when.

Human experience is coming face-to-face with human trafficking, and the sobering realisation that it could just as easily have been me.
Faith is the realisation that because Someone cries for each oppressed minority voice, and Someone has cared about me, I should care about what Someone cares about as well.

Human experience is the daily battle with existentialism and the constantly evolving world.
Faith is the realisation that Some____ is.

Human experience is what social scientist Maslow would probably hashtag as #firstworldproblems -- controversial religious/spiritual debates.
Faith is the realisation that Some____ already defied all of the above with the simple, "I am".

Greg, my professor of theology at AUSOT once explained it something like that: To simply live in the human experience is an obvious negligence of the Christian faith. But to simply use faith to explain away suffering, whether physical, emotional, mental or spiritual, and the human experience is to belittle Jesus' own human experience. If the human experience can be simply explained away by faith, then it would not have been necessary for Jesus to exist as both completely human and completely divine at the same time. And if that were true, then the Christology of Church tradition will have to be completely reconstructed.

As with most things human, it's often difficult for two extremes to co-exist in tangent. We swing between conservative and liberal, traditional and contemporary. Neither extremes are completely right or wrong, but once we realise there's a bit more in the world than the box we were raised in, it's easy to be completely disgusted by the old box, and want to have nothing to do with it. But even after Jesus redefined what "mother" and "brothers" meant, he still made sure Mary was taken care of as he hung on the cross.

And yes, I know. We're not Jesus. Everyday I'm reminded of how unlike Jesus I am. And so we continue to struggle in our humanity between the extremes. But as Henri Nouwen pointed out, there are the unhealed wounders, and the wounded healers. I can only wish that in our struggling between the extremes that we always find room for a little bit of grey areas, and a lot of room for grace.

These are initial thoughts that I've been itching to write down in a more cohesive space than on the notepad on my phone since I've been away from a computer. There's been a whole lot more that I want to write about, but as usual, I get distracted way too easily, so we'll see if this gets revisited.

As always, I'm open to conversations. My only request is that you extend me at least as much grace as you feel you're receiving from me.

Also, extend grace to my poor grammar. I've had one too many days of one too many languages.

Listen to the Children

vi·o·lence [vahy-uh-luhns]
noun
an unjust or unwarranted exertion of force or power, as against rights or laws

Woke up that morning
Still heart sick
Another act of violence
Another child whose innocence was robbed.
Oh Lord, how long?
Listen to the children...


Stop Kony
Make Kony famous
Their signs and websites read.
Discussions back and forth
Bickering for and against
But what about the children?
Oh Lord, how long?
Listen to the children...

Katniss. Peeta. Rue.
Gale. Cinna. Haymitch.
Thresh. Cato. Prim.
All just names in a book
Stories. Fiction.
We laugh.
But what if they weren't just fiction?
Make Snow famous.
Sure. Then what?
What about the children?
Listen to the children.

You wanted my time at the breakfast table.
So I sat and I waited.
You said nothing,
So I talked.

His name wasn't Peeta, and he wasn't a baker's son.
He simply lived on Kurfürstenstraße while his girlfriend worked the streets to support them
He had no identity to anyone who hadn't heard his story.
He was just "another one who made a bad life choice"
If you consider getting sold to drug-dealers at twelve a bad life choice.
Where were you?
Why didn't you redeem him?
Didn't you hear the children?

Her name wasn't Prim, and she didn't have a protective older sister.
She simply tried to figure out how to make sense of the world
After life robbed her of her innocence.
Make her violator famous.
Sure. Then what?
What about her?
Why didn't you redeem her?
Didn't you hear the children?

I don't understand.

I walked away from breakfast
Moved on with my day
How could you, the God of Love
Allow such violence?
Didn't you hear the children?

Walked in to church.
Ariel shows up with the last book in the trilogy.
And again I wonder.
Violence.
Poverty.
Inequality.
Why, Lord?

Listen to the children...

They ask if I have anything I'm thankful for.
How can I be thankful?
Wasn't this the whole point of passion week?
You came to redeem
You came to deliver
So why don't you hear the children?

I stare at the screen as the song lyrics appear.
But my mind wanders back to Constructive Theology classes
How can I possibly construct a theology that you are good
When there's so much violence in the world?
Are you hearing your children?

But your goodness isn't dependent on what you do or don't do now.
That you are Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer should be evidence enough.
Right?

And then I hear little Phoebe
Her voice louder than everyone else in the room
"Glorify, glorify
Let your name be lifted up and glorified
Let the earth tremble at your name
Let your name be lifted up and glorified"

How can I glorify you?
I know you are deserving, and I am unworthy
But how do I justify glorifying a God that allows violence?
Listen to the children,
I hear you say.

My mind is still spinning as Steve starts introducing the next song.
"Draw me close to you..."
And I start weeping

The first night in Anderson when I cried myself to sleep
You were there

My first Sunday at Park Place when we sang that same song
You were there
Back when I was still innocent and the world wasn't so bleak
You were there


And then I hear you saying,
"You are a child too.
I hear you.
I see your heart that's buried under all the ashes."


But that doesn't solve anything.
It doesn't make the world a better place.


I've been feeling a lot like Abraham
And I think you know it
Uprooting and moving isn't the hard part--
I'm used to being nomadic now
Most blessed of tent-dwelling women is Jael
Yeah, yeah. Alright.

I may never get to Canaan,
And it will be alright.
But do I have enough faith that you will protect me from Pharaoh
So that no harm has to come to Sarah?
Do I have enough faith to leave Isaac at the altar?
Do I have enough faith that you will give me my heir
So that I don't have to take Hagar?

How do I teach kids about Abraham this week when I'm relating too well to his weaknesses at the moment?

Victor Hamilton writes,

"Possibly their mistake is seeing the promise of God not as a privilege, but as an obligation. Instead of saying, "We're going to have a baby!" they say, "We've got to have a baby."

And then I realise...
I've been fighting you
Asking you why I have to wear the title of Children's Pastor for this season
Why I have to do something so unfamiliar
Listen to the children.
I won't do them any good.

I heard the children.
What?

I heard the children. I hurt with them.
But I also see your heart. That's why you're here.
You don't see them as a babysitting gig
You don't feel the need to impress them with entertainment
You do exegesis for them
You listen to them
I didn't put you here to do things for them
Remember? 

Hopes said it to you in a loud, audible voice before you left Anderson

You make room

Remember?
You make room for people of all ages to simply be
That's what you're good at
Have you forgotten?
Try and do anything else and you're likely going to flop 

You ask me to listen to the children
I have.
That's why you're here.
You make room for them to ask questions and feel pain. You make room for their animals even if you don't believe they have souls or will go to heaven. You make room for them to be silly, creative, funny and thoughtful. 

You make room for them to find me 

I heard the children in Uganda, and Panem, and Berlin. But I cannot give you answers for them. They are not your responsibility. Your responsibility is for your immediate community.

And then I realise...
I asked you to listen to them as if it were your obligation.
When really, it is our privilege if you do.

For that reason alone,
I will sing as little Phoebe did.
I will listen to the children.

Sociological Overdose

The new flatmate/landlady had her sister-in-law over for dinner the other night. As it was my first time meeting Rachel, the sister-in-law, she had lots of questions to ask. Here's kinda how the conversation went:

Rachel: So what do you do?
Me: Umm... (Crap. How do I explain what I do without sounding like a total slacker?) I'm a pastor.
Rachel: Oh, cool!
Me: Yeah, I work with kids. I spend most of my time planning lessons and activities, and visiting with kids and their families. And we also do Bible clubs in the schools here. They're not overly-keen about us evangelizing, but they definitely want us to teach good morals and values.
Rachel: Yeah, that makes sense. But doesn't that make it hard for you?
Me: Well, not really. For me it's always easier to talk about everything else except God...

The conversation continued, but that definitely left me thinking.

What do I see my role here as?

If what I'm here to do is to teach good morals and values to the kids, then maybe it would be more fair to say I represent a social service organization than a church, wouldn't it?

I'm hearing MaryAnn Hawkins (in Biblical Foundation of Mission) talk about how the missio Dei includes several areas of study as categorized by academics, including both spirituality and sociology. While I approach the missio Dei more easily through sociology, it doesn't make spirituality any less important.

If I'm to be a pastor and a representative of the church, then it wouldn't be enough to simply do sociology, would it?

If we go according to Maslow's hierarchy of needs, if the sociological needs are not met, we may never get a chance to talk about the spiritual. But I think it's safe to say that for me, because sociological needs are slightly less awkward to deal with, I use that as an excuse to avoid getting into the spiritual.

But I'm not here to represent a social service organization.


As the WCF family continues this journey with the Hub, we'll be trying to meet more sociological needs in the community. I'm thankful that the other hands involved in the Hub have a slightly easier time holding the sociological and the spiritual needs in tension than I do--and even more so that we have this family to hold each other accountable to representing the missio Dei well.

Your Kingdom come,
Your will be done
On earth, as it is in heaven.

Perspektiven on Post-Christianity

Kathrin and I have a lot of conversations. Most days, we agree on most things. Some days, we agree to disagree. Other days, we disagree only to later realise we were both actually saying the same thing but in different ways. She tends to be more optimistic than I am about most things, so even her choice of words reflect that optimism. And it's usually not till later that I realise it was a matter of perspective. We could be talking about something that I've already gotten used to people disagreeing with me about, so my defenses are already up and ready to shoot down anything that could speak against my point. Even if she actually agrees with me, I don't actually hear her agreeing with me until I let my defenses down.

I've been thinking a lot the last few days about Christianity in Auckland. According to sources in American christendom, Auckland apparently falls into the bubble of post-Christianity. At least, that's what I learnt from the papers I've written for seminary that involved research on Maori ethnology and the development of the Christian church here.

But that's a problem. The resources available in the States were limited, and it was even more difficult to sieve through those resources to find the ones that weren't tainted with bias toward either parties involved in the Treaty of Waitangi. So the question remains: How the heck am I supposed to accurately find out about the history of both Maori and Pakeha, AND an accurate history of the Christian church here? Because if we don't know about where we've come from, how are we to figure out how to move ahead?

The thing is, if Auckland is as post-Christian as sources in the States paint it to be, then our approach to living out Christian faith here will be more complicated than simply presenting the creation story and praying the sinner's prayer. (Seminary friends, remember that conversation after Old Testament?) Because for someone who has either never grown up with a concept of God, or with a tainted perception of God, the creation story is just another narrative, like a literary work or a Shakespearean prose. And for us who grew up in the church, God and the Bible have always had some authority along with our parents, teachers etc. But for someone whose only understanding of an authority figure also has physical, emotional or spiritual abuse attached to it, the idea of an authority that is more concerned with love and grace than with legalism will still be difficult to grapple with.

Then there's the question of, if Auckland IS post-Christian, what happened that led us down this road?
Was it the doing of the well-intentioned (but maybe not so well-informed) British missionaries who, in the perception of the native Maori, were all the same as the other Brits did not keep up their end of the Treaty of Waitangi?
Was it the selfish agendas of church politics that caused division, leading to people leaving the church discouraged by how their idealistic perception of Christianity had just been shaken up and torn apart?
Or what's the story?

A part of me feels horrible that, as much as I've prided myself to be a student of anthropology, I've been in Auckland for over a month but haven't even started to really try to understand the world outside the church walls here. But I'm also realising that just because some aspects of the suburban Te Atatu Peninsula don't actually look too different than Anderson, Indiana, I don't process that the experience of Christianity here (whether you call it a religion, a faith, an experience or whatever the word is) is any different from the Christian bubble of Anderson.

I guess it's all a matter of perspective, eh? We each approach the idea of Christianity with a different perspective, but am I willing to listen to the stories behind why someone's approach is different from mine, or am I going to be defensive, the way I am in some of my conversations with Kathrin?

But there are more and more questions rolling around in my head. It's unsettling, but who's to say it's a bad thing?

Brooklyn, New York

This past week was Spring Break at Anderson University. A friend of mine at the seminary had asked me earlier in the year if I would co-lead a Tri-S missions trip to New York with him, so of course I said yes. Anytime I get to go to a new place with people, I'm definitely up for it - and especially if it involved going there with a purpose more than just vacation.

So anyway, New York. The big city. Sadly, I wasn't as impressed with it as I thought I would be. I guess a part of it is that with all the hype you see on TV, all the glitz and glamour, my expectations for the big city were let down just a little bit. And I guess also having grown up in the big city myself, even THE Big City was just another city.

Having said that, the trip was still great. We went with an organization called Center for Student Missions (CSM) that basically hosted us and made all the arrangements for us to visit several different ministry sites in the city. For three days, we travelled around Brooklyn, Manhattan, the Bronx and Harlem serving for a few hours at each of these ministry sites. If you're looking for an organization where your group can really plug into and serve on a more long-term, consistent basis, CSM is not what you're looking for. But for an introduction to urban ministry and homelessness, definitely go with CSM. They have a great program that includes a prayer walk/tour of the city that starts your entire week off with you seeing some of the different faces of the city and what you will be dealing with.

Probably the highlight of my week was seeing the group come together and watching the lightbulbs go off in their heads. Since this wasn't my first urban ministry experience, I'll 'fess up to being slightly frustrated at the little amount of time we got to spend at each of the sites we were at. But each night as we debriefed with the group and I was forced to answer questions like my highs and lows of the day, I had to reflect on the positives as well, which worked out really well. And as I heard about each of their reflections on thoughts, I was caught off-guard by how cynical and pessimistic I had gotten since my first urban ministry experience with Church on the Street in Atlanta. Being with the group this week restored some of the hopefulness in my own journey, and I think that will really help before I plunge into Berlin.

And probably the one thing that really frustrated me and is making me want to do something about is language - or my lack of it. There were a few occasions where either a better command of the Cantonese dialect or the ability to say more than "Dios le Bendiga" would have come in really handy. I've forgotten how much I take language for granted. And even though Arthur told me I didn't have to learn German to get around in Berlin, I'm realising that I really do want to be able to say more than "Guten Tag!" when I get there.

Something else that struck me was our group's concern with homelessness and the apathy of the more affluent city-dwellers towards that problem. Perhaps it's because I've been challenged to explain the idea of Gateway Berlin, my eyes were more open to the flip-side of the urban problem, this ugly word called apathy. Forgive me if I sound less than tolerant - I really don't mean to - but the homeless have shelters that feed them both physically and spiritually. And they have missions groups coming in to talk to them and walk with them. But what about the ones who are physically affluent but spiritually empty? Are our hearts broken for them as well, or do we judge them through our "better than you because I'm serving and you're apathetic" lenses?

Break my heart for what breaks yours
Everything I am for your Kingdom's cause