Category Archives: Uncategorized
I’ve only felt a sense of calling this clearly and strongly on one other occasion. That’s when I first saw my wife and knew in an instant that I would marry her. A certainty something like that attends this call to be a part of the Anacostia River Church mission.
Two weeks ago, on Easter Sunday, the spiritual family of God called Anacostia River Church (ARC) launched its first public service. The service came with the swiftness of a flooded river. Before we knew it, we were busy about ordering supplies, organizing ministry teams, and “launching” a church. I don’t know who first coined the term “launch” when it comes to church “plants” (an interesting mixed metaphor), but they were onto something for we were jumping and flinging ourselves fully into the work! And what a joy it’s been!
People frequently ask me, “How’s the church plant going?” I’m grateful for the love and interest that prompts that query. But I’ve yet to find an adequate way of describing the great privilege I have of shepherding along with two incredibly gifted and godly elders, or the slight staggering I feel when I think of the amazing people the Lord has sent on this mission, or the awe at seeing how the Lord has provided for us at every turn, or the quickening happening in my soul as we work to evangelize the neighborhood. Starting a new church produces a lot of good fruit when the Lord blesses it!
But one thing amazes …
When my wife and I purchased our first home, I determined our lawn would be at least comparable to that lovely lush landscape of the guy two doors down. Our street took a lot of pride in curbside appeal. I joined them in the weekly ritual of weeding, seeding, planting, mowing, watering, raking, trimming and brimming with pride.
I spent a lot of time rooting shrubs and flowers, and sometimes digging up the roots of things that needed to go. I learned something valuable while bent over my spade, turning mulch, and worming my fingers into loam to find the extent of root balls: Only well-rooted plants survive, and sometimes that means roots must run deep.
That came home in a powerful way when someone gave me a cactus to plant. Actually, it wasn’t even a complete cactus, just a leaf. They told me it would grow anywhere and wouldn’t need much attention. So I stuck it in the dirt at the mailbox, the pretty white mailbox perched atop a white post with colorful tulips painted on its side. The cactus was meant to be the backdrop to the dancing colors of real tulips surrounding the post. Soon the cactus grew. The one leaf became two, then doubled again. Before I knew it the cactus had taken over the mailbox area, drinking up all the moisture and nutrients. My tulips drooped, faded and died.
Finally I decided to remove the cactus and replant the small bed around the mailbox. That’s when I discovered …
What’s good? It’s been a while since I’ve written. I’m sorry about that. I trust school and life are good on your end?
I came across video footage of another young man gunned down by officers on February 11th. He apparently threw a stone at an officer, for which he should have been subdued and arrested. But instead, the officers fired at him in a busy intersection, pursued him, and when he turned to surrender gunned him down. We learned from the Mike Brown incident that police are only justified in pursuing and using lethal force when their lives are in danger or the fleeing suspect is thought to pose significant harm to the public. Neither appears to be the case here. It’s an emotional scene.
Keep in mind this is not a dramatization; it’s real life. We live in an indescribable age–one where some officers of the law are caught on cell phone cameras slaying citizens they’re sworn to protect. Even citizens with disabilities who make no aggressive motion–as in this incident from a couple years back. Eight officers with a police dog fire 41 times at this young man, hitting him 14 times and killing him. Is there no officer among us wise enough to talk down a man like this or find a way to subdue him? It’s insane!
But whenever you raise the issue of ending police brutality or ending the mass incarceration of African Americans, you’re bound to run into a lot of people who quickly stress “black …
How are things since we’ve last written? Are you doing well in class? How are your friendships? Catch me up on your life outside the protests. I assume you have one! You’ve heard it say, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” Well, “All protest and no play makes Niecie a bitter girl”! Don’t forget it.
I thought about you as I read this morning’s paper. Tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of the death of Franklin McCain. Now if you’re going to continue the struggle, you’ve got to know something about those who have gone before you. McCain was one of the “Greensboro Four,” the four young men who in 1960 began the sit-in movement at the Woolworth’s lunch counter in Greensboro. February 1 will mark the anniversary of the actual sit-in, which caught on like fire and spread throughout the country. Those sit-ins—and the disgraceful way those students were treated—pricked the nation’s conscience and began the slow sawing of segregation’s legs. In just six months the Woolworth’s lunch counter desegregated!
I hope this encourages you. You and your friends have a lot in common with McCain, Joseph McNeil, Ezell Blair Jr., and David Richmond—the other three who sat-in that day. First, they were college freshmen, just as you are. Never underestimate the power of students to change the world—from Soweto to Tiananmen Square to the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee and others during the Civil Rights Movement. You stand in a proud tradition as you and your classmates …
I went to bed last night heartsick and distressed over the shooting deaths of two New York Police Department officers. Officers Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos were sitting in their cruiser unsuspecting when an African-American gunman opened fire on them. The gunman made his way from his home in Baltimore, where he shot his ex-girlfriend earlier in the day, to the Bed-Stuy area of Brooklyn where the officers were on duty. After killing the officers the man fled into the subway where he took his own life. Judging from his social media account, he was a deeply troubled man bent on killing officers. His actions were more than cowardly or tragic; they were evil.
There is no biblical, logical or social justification for such violence and wickedness. None. This shooting must be seen for what it is: a heinous and evil act. The damage done is incalculable and irreparable.
Officer Wenjian Liu was a 7-year veteran of the NYPD. He was married two months and before the honeymoon was over his wife finds herself a grieving widow.
Officer Rafael Ramos served the NYPD for two years. He, too, leaves behind a wife and a 13-year old son. Ramos was also a faithful member of his local church. He was to the Christian more than a public servant. He was a brother in the Lord. His wife will mourn today and for a long while to come. His son will grow through his most formative years without the strong hand of his father to …
Here’s a perspective worth considering from someone working both inside the system and for its betterment. This is 12 minutes or so well-spent.
I’m still moved by the story “Tara” told. A beautiful young woman full of an infectious bouncing joy that helps her glide rather than walk. Normally beaming with a face-wide smile, she was, for Tara, sedate. The story began optimistically. She relayed to us a conversation she had with a student the previous Friday afternoon. It was the first open conversation she’d been able to have with this student, who had taken her class before but hadn’t often shown up. This semester had been different. He made some effort, took interest in the subject, and began to build relationships.
The two of them sat working on a project together. As their hands molded materials and fashioned art, their words flowed effortlessly. He began to talk about his philosophy of life: “Live fast, die young.” Or was it “die hard.” Patiently, Tara asked why he took that view. As they talked, she began to hold out the hope of the gospel. For the first time, he seemed genuinely interested. In fact, he seemed hopeful. So Tara invited him to church with her the following Sunday.
Saturday evening she called to arrange time to pick him up. As she told the story, her face dimmed from its usual glow. If a light gray cloud could fill a face, I suppose that’s what it looked like. She explained that when she called to arrange for her student to come to church with her that Sunday, his mother informed her that he wouldn’t be going. Between …
You should. Check out this video, pray for this plant, and send people needing a gospel church in Richmond this way!
Editor’s Note: Today’s guest blogger is Dennae Pierre. Dennae is wife to Vermon Pierre, lead pastor of Roosevelt Community Church in Phoenix, AZ, a mother, and adoption advocate.
250 years of slavery. 90 years of Jim Crow. 60 years of separate but equal. 35 years of racist housing policies. Does that explain everything? No. Does it mean something? Yes.
The Back Seat Passenger:
A close friend and dear brother of ours, Dr. Patrick T. Smith, is a professor at Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary. He gives his students the following example to help them understand how to hear from different world views:
Imagine that you are driving down a busy highway and you put your blinker on and prepare to merge into the left lane. All of a sudden, someone in the backseat yells, “Stop! You’re going to hit a car!” but you are confident that you checked your rearview mirror and feel certain there is no car in the lane next to you. What do you do?
The answer all comes down to how much you trust the person in that seat behind you. Is it a foolish, goofy middle school boy who likes to blurt random things out? If so, then you will likely ignore the voice and get into the next lane.
Or is it a trusted friend? Your peer? Your equal? If so, then you will instantly put on your breaks without thinking or question.
Patrick goes on to explain the issues related to understanding the complexities of race are similar. Whether or …
I’m in Northern Ireland at the Bangor Worldwide Missionary Convention. I first had the privilege of serving these dear saints back in 2008. I guess I didn’t scare them off because they’ve been kind enough to bring me back this year. This mission convention has been going on for nearly eighty years, attracting missionaries from around the world and participants from across Northern Ireland. The fellowship is warm, the singing joyful, the call to mission zealous!
I thought I’d come to Northern Ireland and have something of a respite from the news and opinions concerning Ferguson. But, as it turns out, events in Ferguson have been a significant part of news coverage across the pond, too. So my friends in Northern Ireland have asked me what I thought. They’ve taken a genuine interest. And as I’ve talked and they’ve listened, some have confessed that the situation somewhat confuses them. The closest analogy would be the “Troubles” between Protestant and Catholic, but nothing quite like the racial picture of the U.S. seems to fit their experience. When they ask me to explain, I take a deep breath trying to figure out where to start, and quietly acknowledging to myself that I don’t know everything.
The Beginning of My Suspicion
But for me it started at my parents’ dining room table. I must have been about the age of my son, around seven, when my parents started what felt like a campaign of encouragement. They’d repeatedly tell me, “You can be anything you want to …