So just as I was about to hit publish and was following up with proper links, I saw Jerry Jenkins responded just today to one article. I appreciate this lengthy, quite open and frank letter. Thank you for sharing it with us, Jerry.

***

And now an update on something that will only interest you if you grew up in the American Christian subculture of the 1990s. Yes, I'm going to talk about Jerry Jenkins and gambling. If these words mean nothing to you, feel free to move on to This American Life or Real Simple or something.

Ok, everybody else still here? Welcome Moodies, youth group friends, and Mom. Let's recap:

A few weeks ago World Magazine published an article on Jerry Jenkins and his frequent past-time of playing poker for money. The article quoted Jenkins - chairman of the Board of Trustees for Moody Bible Institute and best-selling author of the oft maligned, though still popular Left Behind Series - saying,

"… You can do the math. I’ve sold 70 million books. So to break even making $8,000 playing poker, it’s kind of pocket change for me.”

This article pushed a couple of long-simmering buttons for me, as it did for many others, particularly fellow alumni of Moody. But gambling isn't one of them. Though I'm not particularly keen on the "sport" of gambling, Jenkins would claim what he plays is a "game of skill." 

“I don’t play for what I would consider significant amounts of money. And I wouldn’t gamble, either. I mean, I don’t play slots,” he said.

It can be argued he is in fact gambling if he's winning (or losing) $8,000 worth of pocket change from his opponents. But again, that alone is not the soul of the troubling issues this article brings to light. 

My uncomfortableness rests in three things:

1) The double standard Moody seems to place on its students, staff and trustees, setting forth strict codes of conduct based on (or implied by) biblical principles for students and staff (gambling, for one, is strictly prohibited; other activities such as drinking, smoking and movie-going are also prohibited for students) while the trustees enjoy no such prohibition. See also The New York Times article 'In Culture Shift, Evangelical College Lifts Alcohol Ban.'

Asked whether Jenkins’ hobby might send a mixed message to students, Regnerus said the school expected students to recognize matters of Christian liberty, while abiding by rules meant to accommodate families and churches with stricter convictions. 

“Moody is aware that Jerry Jenkins participates in poker, which is not prohibited in Scripture,” Regnerus said. He added the school does not have an official position that would clarify whether it considers poker to be gambling.

This exchange was frustrating, and though it may very well have been unintentional, to many former students it seemed misleading and disingenuous. Yes, Jesus doesn't mention poker. But the student life guide does. And while the weaker brother argument is a valid one - not wanting to discourage or discriminate against students who may come from more conservative or traditional faith traditions - it seems untoward to expect students to respect the Christian liberty of the men whose names are on the buildings and make the decisions for the student body. After all, they are the ones making rules for the students that they themselves do not abide by.

2) In the World article, Jenkins admits an attempt to hide his poker playing from the Chicago-area Christian community. 

“It’s too close to Chicago. I serve on the board of Moody, so I wouldn’t want to cause any embarrassment to anybody if they had a problem with that. … I live in Colorado, so if I play it’s outside the Midwest.”

I fail to understand his reasoning. If he's not gambling, as he says, then why hide it? And if Moody doesn't have a problem with its trustees gambling, whom would he embarrass? He's also been known to enjoy this game of skill with James MacDonald, a Chicago-area pastor and co-author of Jenkins' latest book. Both men are extremely well-off financially, supported by the same community they're hiding from.

3) The most troubling aspect of the article was the perceived posture of Jenkins, who refers to himself as being "flush," refers to the money he's gambled, lost and won as "pocket change," and states that playing in a casino where his son is a dealer is the only way he's able to interact with non-believers.

“Frankly, were it not for poker, we would hardly ever rub shoulders with unsaved people.”

What concerns me most is his flippant disregard for people and resources. What is pocket change to him is nearly double one month's salary for a middle-class family in the US, and it could very well be the difference between life or death in many parts of the world.

It's not just that he's a high income earner. There are many wealthy people who practice good stewardship and hold themselves to a high standard of accountability. But it's the idea that someone who so easily plays away - or, conversely, takes away - large sums of money as a means of "ministry" is a gatekeeper and leader of the modern evangelical church movement in America, shaping future pastors, teachers, bible study leaders, worship leaders, and - yes - missionaries.

Many of these students, alumni, teachers and donors are in the trenches: caring for those in need, leaving the comforts of home to live in the developing world, flying planes filled with food and medicine into the jungle, ministering to and sharing Jesus with prison inmates or preschool moms or the orphan or the homeless. Or any other number of ways Christ-followers choose to share his love with others. We look to people like Jenkins or MacDonald to show us the way of Jesus. A better way. I simply struggle to find the spirit of love Jenkins may share as he takes their money from the table. "Blessed are the poor in Spirit?"

Anyway.

After sharing these frustrations via Twitter, a representative of Moody Radio contacted me and kindly forwarded my email to Moody. It was lengthy and I probably went off the handle a bit and asked them if the president of Moody, someone Matt and I deeply respect, had any response. No, he didn't.

But Jenkins did, again through Moody's PR manager.

"I love Moody Bible Institute more than I can fully express. Having been a student here in the 1960s, then editor of MOODY magazine and finally vice president for Moody Publishers as an employee of more than 30 years, and having the privilege of serving this wonderful organization on its Board of Trustees, the last thing in the world I ever wanted was for my personal activities to bring harm or embarrassment to this place that I love." 

"I never perceived my playing poker to be anything but a hobby, but I see now that it is inconsistent with my role as a Moody Trustee. I viewed it as something I was free to do, but on reflection I understand that the negative aspects of the commercial gaming industry taint any association with public card playing, regardless of my intent." 

“I am sorry for this error in judgment and for the harm I have caused. I ask your forgiveness and ask that you pray that I would be found worthy of the great privilege and high calling I have been given as Moody's chairman of the Board. Thank you."

We, too, love Moody more than we can express. It gave us eachother, refined our callings and honed our gifts. It gave us brilliant friendships with students and with faculty that still ring true and run strong. We go back frequently and reminisce, showing our children where we first met and which dorm I lived in and how we sat on Culby 2 with all of our floor-mates watching the series finale of Seinfeld. In the spirit of full disclosure, we maybe even stroll through the tunnels where we would sneak an illicit kiss between class.

We have wonderful, beautiful memories and in so many ways, Moody gave us the life we have. It's not a life like Jerry Jenkins has, and I hope he understands that. The students he's leading may very well choose a different way.

People over things, and a posture of love.

I find myself in a daily struggle with obedience in the pursuit of those callings. A good, painful struggle; a different type of game of skill. And I hope to share more about it here, with you, soon.

A holy strangeness

Here is my current psychosis:

Moving across the ocean is a drop in the bucket compared to visiting a new church for the first time. Which is too bad, really, as it's in the job description right now. Visit churches, meet people, listen to their stories, see what God is doing. I love all those things, except the visit churches part, which I hate. Super hate.

I wake up late and grumpy. I put on my dour face. I stare in the mirror for long stretches. I am short with the children. I am angry with Matt. I get in the car feeling all the feelings. I stare out the window in search of a way out. I literally drag my feet.

Being new, feeling different, being conspicuous, looking lost... this is what I do and am and look like every day! I don't know the songs or the rhythm. I don't know where our children go or when to stand or sit. In the shops or the school yard, at the meetings or in the church. I don't know anything at all.

It is a holy strangeness, feeling called by God to do something that requires you do something that you really don't want to do. In fact, even if you want to do it, you feel really bad at doing it. You have nothing of yourself to give or offer that will enable you to do it. You are almost certain that you will fail at doing it.

And so, we offer up our complete incompetence. 

We ask, be my strength in spite of me. 

We admit, I hate this, God, is that ok? 

We say, You are enough when I am nothing.

We pray, You are here and we are Yours.

And we sit in the pew (or the back garden or under the covers) and wait for Him to show up. Which He does, always does. 

Turns out, He was just waiting for you this whole time. Even in church.

***

What was the last thing you really didn't want to do?

The baptism :: 31 days of messy parenting {day 2}

And this is how it happened.



No fanfare. No video cameras. No real cameras, even. Only a few camera phones in our midst, and only one photo.

But there was food. And friends. People who have loved him and taught him, want to know about his day and share their food and drink with him. His little friends, too: four boys he loves, wanting to be their leader.

It was long in coming, but quickly decided. He'd been thinking about it, weighing it. His need to fly under the radar - to not get too noticed - kept him from walking up, from saying yes, from wading into muddy lakes with near strangers. But still, always, he kept his heart and mind open to it. And when it was time, it was time.

Our friends - a dear new sister walking with us these last two years here - giving testimony and laying down their heads in cool water. He came up to us both and said, "I'm ready now," and just like that: baptized.

I admit I felt my heart in my throat. My first response: "Not right now, honey." This was not my plan, not how I envisioned it, not what I expected. But it was His plan, and I had to let go. 

I had to let him go.

So it happened, not in the Irish Sea with cold crashing waves. There wasn't time to plan a verse, a speech, a new name we were to choose for him. Instead, it happened in the cool of a summer pool, our pastor here stepping aside so Matt, father to our boy, could baptize his son.

Unplanned and clumsy. Beautiful abstraction. A boy saying yes to God. 

Hard to fit all that on a Certificate of Baptism.



What moments have left you undone, events you have planned that didn't turn out? 

To write about something, the sequel

July is nearly over and I've done very little writing. As luck would have it, this week I'm at a conference for  "artists, geeks and storytellers". All three terms may describe me at any given time, so now is as good as any time to break away and write for a bit.

For those wondering, the baby is doing really well. He's had zero after-effects from his fall and is as wily and happy as ever. We feel so grateful to God for protecting his little skull and helping us to move on and forget the details of that bad day.

Our full-time work in the arts community downtown is closing up shop, both literally and figuratively. Where we invested the majority of our time has permanently closed its doors, opening up the door for us to spend more time investing in the climb back towards Ireland. Still, we are sad and a little bit aimless as we say goodbye to this sweet phase of ministry and relationship, while still looking forward to continuing this gospel-centred culture conversation on the other side.

I'm hoping to put some better thoughts down on screen later this week as this conference settles into my soul. For now, it's weird and slightly unnerving. In every direction, I see excess. Floor to ceiling screens, projections, free t-shirts and a fully functional coffee-shop, all within the confines of the largest church building I've ever been in. Culturally American Christianity is big business. And I feel more and more like just a mom, who's just trying to raise her kids to grow up to still love Him, and maybe try to love and serve some people in the meantime.

Do we really need a triple-wide-screen for that?

how about some cute kiddo pics?

Tuesday mornings are typically my morning to drop the girl off at school, go to Weight Watchers (yep, I just outed myself - boom!), and set up shop in Starbucks to read or write or surf or do any old thing that is unlikely to happen with the wee lad running around with drool spewing forth. I really want to write something brilliant and humbling and inspiring, but I'm running low on ideas... maybe because Facebook Fast for Lent is over and it's back to sucking my brain of creative energy... 


So in lieu of all that jazz, here are some snazzy pics of the little Hs in their Easter best:








I am utterly unable to tell of all the ways we are blessed by our church in downtown Kansas City... this little pic, of the boy worshipping with us, is just a snippet of the awesomeness.

Five things to do when you relocate

There are a lot of downsides to relocating every couple of years: uprooting a nearly new home, saying goodbye to friends, trying to find new friends, learning where everything is and then forgetting how to get there... I could go on and on. And yet, there are a few helpful and enjoyable things that I've tried to incorporate with every new move with the hopes that this one, this latest move, will be easier than the one before.

1. Find - and visit - your local library
It's not just enough to know where it is, you have to actually go there! Before we moved overseas, I knew where our local library was and liked its close proximity to our house, but I think I only ventured in there once and it was to use the free internet to buy U2 tickets online in 2001. Shameful!

When we settled in our lovely village in County Meath, I made it my mission to find the nearest library and patronize it. Got a card and everything. And the world - or rather, that tiny part of Ireland - opened up for me, and with it came book club and friends and storytime with the kiddos and wall art on loan, not to mention the books and the lovely Fergus who paid my overdue fine. every. time.

Then, upon arriving back on the scene in the Midwest of the US, I again sought out the library, and walk my kids there weekly, anxious to see what will await us. Visiting your local library (frequently!) grounds you in your community, provides you with excuses to read anything or everything, and may even introduce you to your next best friend. Trust me.

2. Walk around your block, and then the one after that
The best way to not feel like a newbie weirdo in your unfamiliar neighbourhood? Become familiar with it. Walk it, explore it, wave to the neighbours, and repeat. You won't ever feel like you're at home until you recognize its scents, the way the leaves look in the sunset, or the children who call out to your children by name.

The Irish village we called home was easy to walk because, quite frankly, everyone walked. And when you try to pass someone on a very narrow stretch of footpath, you have to say hello. Not only this, but in our village, all the essential places - the shop, the post office, the pub - were all within a short walk. These places are where community happens and being able to walk there, and being willing to walk there, lessens our solitary confinement and enhances our community experience.

And when I walk, I pray. I pray for what I see, what's around me, and who may pass me by. This, more than anything, enhances the love I feel for the place I start to call home.

3. Research the Farmers' Market scene
Looking for good bread from the Mennonites? Love freshly picked flowers on a bright spring morning? Wonder where on earth you're going to find locally resourced honey to help you out with your wicked pollen allergies? Look no further than a Farmers' Market.

There are a handful that gather within 10 miles of our home, but the one I fancy is in downtown Kansas City (that's city centre to my European readers) and I would rather be there than anywhere else on a Saturday morning. The smells and sights and sounds emanating from this large city block make my heart happy. And we usually leave with a stroller-basket-full of fresh, locally grown, clean veggies and fruit. Not to mention cinnamon rolls, kettle corn, spices, daisies, honey (for the girl with eczema), etc., etc.

I've also heard it mentioned that one can find local organic farmers' markets, as well. I'm almost afraid to test this theory as I love our City Market farmers' market just too much and don't want to be tempted to stray. If you do have experience in this, though, feel free to add your thoughts below.

4. Find & play in green space
If you've recently moved to an urban area, this may seem unlikely at first. But at least in our current city, and the ones we've lived near in the past, this is more common than one might think. Look up your zip code (or township) on Google Maps and look for green. And then go there.

We have several beautiful parks out here in the suburbs, many of which have excellent playgrounds for the children to use and abuse, but my favourite parks are always in the city. Whether it's a large urban park with ducks in a pond, or a walking trail down an old trolley line, or even a field at the end of your cul-de-sac, go out and play on some green. You'll meet people, you'll laugh, you'll get dirty, and you'll tire yourself and your children (and/or pets) out and get a good night's sleep. Sounds like a bargain to me.

5. Rethink church
Not just think church, re-think church. I don't mean rethink whether or not you go to church or stop going altogether. On the contrary, there is no better time to evaluate what church means to you (and your family) and how you want faith to shape your home and your life than when you relocate to a new area of the state, country, or world.

Don't just look for that good 'ole denominational back-up, or plop into a new congregation sight unseen. Take some time to research, pray, prioritize, and seek out a faith community. Apart from parenting, there is probably no other greater influence on the life of your marriage, your family and your kids than the place where you will learn about God. The future really is shaped by what we believe about God and how we feel about His Son, Jesus Christ, and what we intend to do with that information.

Do you want your children to worship in church with you? Or are you looking for highly-efficient children's programs? Are you looking for something large with several extracurricular options? Or are you looking for an intimate family of believers? Are you searching for relationships over religion? Do you want your church, your community, and your mission field to blend into one? None of these things are mutually exclusive, but we all have a priority list when it comes to how we want to be involved in our faith. Take your time, visit, and pray... this may be the very best time to step out of one's pew and rethink what church really does mean.

These are just my five things, and there are probably loads more to choose from. If you've relocated recently, what do you suggest? I'm still looking for a few new things to try!

Sunday afternoon and different kinds of "quiet time"

The house is dark and somewhat quiet as each one of us experience different types of quiet time: the baby is sleeping, big brother and sister are in their room reading and creating masterpieces, auntie/sister is dozing on the sofa, and I'm sitting in my comfy club chair channel surfing between golf and and college basketball (hence the dozer on the sofa).

I enjoyed another kind of quiet time earlier, worshipping with my church family and listening to a friend as he shared God's heart with us. We're in the Gospel of Mark right now, a book which I tend to ignore based upon my own preferential treatment of the Gospel of John. Mark has been good, though, and a refreshing change of pace for me. Today we only read a couple of passages, but took some time to process them and ask some questions of ourselves. This one verse, from the Message, is sticking with me:

Jesus wasn't able to do much of anything there—he laid hands on a few sick people and healed them, that's all. He couldn't get over their stubbornness. Mark 6v5

I asked myself a question I already knew the answer to: "Does my stubbornness hinder Jesus from doing much of anything with me?" I know the answer is yes, and I don't mind saying that I hate that idea.

Instead, I want to embrace where Christ has placed me now, in this weird in-between thing. I need Him to help me cherish the value in raising my children, supporting my husband, being a friend and a sister.

I need Him to do much of everything, in me.

...Well, quiet time is over, Star Wars is on the telly, and it's time to think about dinner... gonna rely on Jesus to help me "do much" of some stuff!

God and books and stuff

So I've been reading this book, Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller. Now Miller is the same guy who wrote Blue Like Jazz, which everyone I know has read, and either a) adored it and are obsessed with it, or b) hated it and are obsessed with trashing it. Either way, you gotta admit a guy who can write a book that elicits responses like that must be just shy of genius.

Anyway, so as I wait for this baby to be born, I've been reading this book. And I've been reading not just because I don't have much else to do besides wait for the baby, but also because lately I've found myself really thirsty for some spiritual conundrums. Church hasn't quite been doing it for me lately, which I feel really guilty about considering that one big reason we're here is to do "church". And really, that's probably not very accurate, we're here to follow and try to be Jesus as best we can. It just so happens, that more often than not, those notions get intertwined with attending church.

It could be that I'm not really getting much out of church because I've only been able to go about twice a month. The truth is, I've not been well. Besides being ginormously with child, I've been living with daily migraines. I wake up in the morning, and it's there. I drink water, I drink juice, I intake caffeine, I refrain from caffeine, I push tylenol, I try to nap... you get the picture. These migraines last until early evening, when strangely I'm finally given a reprieve. After spending all day in bed with blinding pain behind my eyes, missing my children and begging God to take it away, I'm able to eat dinner with my family, play a bit with my kids, get a bit of work/cleaning/baby prep done, and then spend the rest of the night trying to prepare for sleep, which I know will only end in me waking up, yet again, with another migraine. (It should be noted that I have mentioned this to the doctors/midwives I see when I go in for my antenatal appointments, but they don't seem to be really concerned...).

So, yeah, I've missed a bit of church. But even when I've been there, I'm not really paying attention. Or I'm confused. Or I get frustrated (which, as you know, is a common Pregnant Karen symptom). In all honesty, this happened probably just as frequently in our churches in the States, so perhaps it really is me and not the church... at least, that's what I'm starting to get a handle on.

So I decided to pick up Miller's book because Blue Like Jazz moved me so deeply and I thought, if I'm having a hard time at church, if I'm having a hard time concentrating on prayer, if I'm struggling with studying the Bible, and if I've got these horrible headaches which keep me bed-bound most days, I need to read something that might open the window and let a little fresh air in. Or I need to read something that makes me feel less crazy and less out-of-control. (The end of pregnancy does have a habit of reminding you how freaking little you control in the first place.)

I thought that perhaps I should just share a little bit of this book with you, not in a review-y sort of way, but in quotes and small morsels. Miller reminds me a lot of my sister, Jessica, who knows that there are no easy answers and really thinks it valuable to spend a good, hard time figuring out just who Jesus is, just what the Bible is talking about, and just exactly what we are to do with our lives, knowing that information. So when I read Miller, I kinda feel like she and I are having a conversation, like we used to do in my living room in KC, with our anarchist cousin, and my husband keeping us all grounded (and trying to keep us quiet so we wouldn't wake the children with our shouting).

So here are some quotes from Searching for God Knows What. They are tidbits of thought that I have read at the doctor's office, in the bath, laying in bed with a fan directly on my face, or on that one sunny day where I could read in a chair in the back garden (with a hat on, mind you, so that the sun wouldn't aggravate the migraine). No matter where I was when I read them, I either laughed or cried, out loud. Sometimes I gasped. And occasionally I would pray and thank God for blowing my mind, or at least touching my heart just a wee bit.

(at this point, I hope you're still with me...)

About God, the creator:

Whatever it is that understands the physics of this thing that is happening to us would have to be quite remarkable, with giant oaks for feet, perhaps, and a voice like wind through a forest and a mind that creates creations of which it might ponder in a way of learning what it already knows.

About us and what we believe about God:

In my opinion, there are two essential problems with believing God is something He isn't. The first problem is that it wrecks your life, and the second is that it makes God look like an idiot.

About Jesus, and John the Evangelist:

The way John writes about Jesus makes you feel like the sum of our faith is a kind of constant dialog with Jesus about whether or not we love Him... John seemed to embrace the relational dynamic of our faith... He revealed how none of the disciples truly understood Jesus and how they were all screwups, and he didn't make himself look good, either... That's guts, if you ask me.

About nudity and the Fall:

I wondered why it was that when people talked about the fall of man, about the Garden of Eden, they never talked about how people went around naked. If you ask me, the most obvious thing that happened after the Fall was that people started wearing all kinds of clothes... I mean, evolution may explain how we came from apes, but it does nothing to explain why we wear clothes.

And that's just all in the first 70 pages...