A familiar parable told by Jesus. The meaning is clear. Have compassion! Don’t walk by! Love your neighbor (which includes a stranger) sacrificially. And for most of my life, the “not walking by” and the “going to him” were not literal, but founds their application in the modern world in ways other than actually stopping alongside the road to help someone in need.

All that has changed for me the last 3 ½ years, as living in NYC provides many, almost daily, opportunities to either walk by or to stop. I confess I still do not know how to decide when to do each. If I stopped every time, I would never get anywhere and I would be as broke as the homeless I try to help. So I walk by more than I stop. Like tonight.

I was walking with Chris on a dark, rainy January evening on the Upper West Side. On Broadway and 80^th was a man, tucked away into a dark entrance to a store closed for the night, seeking shelter from the rain and cold. As we walked by, he mumbled something to us. I couldn’t make out what he said, but we didn’t stop for clarification. We were trying to catch the subway and were in a hurry to get home after a couple of hours of training. We walked by.

Here’s the irony. The training we had just completed was for us to serve as leaders this February for an outreach to the homeless called (catch this) Don’t Walk By! And we walked by. I joked to Chris as we sat a few minutes later on the subway that maybe he was a plant to test the 100+ leaders who poured out of the church having completed our Don’t Walk By training to see if anyone would stop. And we all walked by, I’m guessing.

 As I sat in my apartment later this evening, I read the first chapter of Isaiah. The prophet begins this book by bringing charges against the people of Israel. God is tired of their religious activity while their lives are full of sin and their hearts are far from him. But when he gets around to being specific about their sin, this is what he says:

Learn to do right! Seek justice, encourage the oppressed. Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow. 

and...

Your rulers are rebels, companions of thieves; they all love bribes and chase after gifts. They do not defend the cause of the fatherless; the widow’s case does not come before them.

 Certainly their sin and rebellion involved more than these, but their lack of compassion and care for the hurting and the marginalized really stands out.  God emphasized these sins and failures. No other sins are spelled out so specifically.

 Makes me think. Have I applied this standard to my life? Have I elevated compassion and caring for the poor and marginalized to the place it deserves? To the importance God gives to it?

 Hopefully, I am learning- and being a part of Don’t Walk By will help.

 Chris and I along with the other leaders will be out on Saturday evenings in February leading 1000 volunteers on a search and rescue mission covering all 6000 blocks of Manhattan. Our goal is to not walk by a single man, woman or child in need, but to offer food, shelter, medical care, a warm bed and a chance to turn their lives around. At least on Saturday evenings in February, I won’t walk by.

I encourage you to take a few minutes to watch this short film which explains the vision behind Don’t Walk By. Just click here.

But I must say, after 3 ½ years of living in NYC that it is an incredible place on so many levels. The history, the architecture, the diversity, the energy- it’s not like anyplace I have ever seen. It boasts of being the financial, fashion, music and entertainment capital of the world. Some may legitimately argue with some of those designations, but there is an awful lot going on here in each of those areas. I find myself surprised by how much I like the city.

One lesser known fact about New York has to do with a forgotten segment of the population. Along with the 8.5 million people who call NYC their home, are somewhere between 70,000 and 100,000 people who live here and are homeless. Those numbers are sometimes disputed, and politics are heavily involved in the matter. But every resident of NYC knows that whatever the right number, there are many, many, many men, women and even children who don’t have a regular bed to sleep in each night. We see them in the subways and train station and park benches. They ask us for help. Just spare change, or food, or a sleeping bag.  And sometimes we help, and sometimes we walk away. 

 The weather has turned cold. Earlier this morning with temps below freezing I saw the man near the subway station who is always at that spot, with the cup out in front of him. I was bundled up and looking forward to getting on the warm train.  How did he not freeze to death during the night?

 On more than one occasion I have found the words “greatest city in the world” on my lips. I think I might actually believe it. Perhaps some of the NYC arrogance as rubbed off on me. But this great city has a great challenge- the poor and homeless.

 I have taken a lot of pictures of Manhattan. I love trying to capture the beauty and diversity and humanity on film. I have also taken pictures of some of those who live on the streets and in the parks and on the trains. As part of our work this winter to help offer the homeless a chance to change their lives (dontwalkby.org), I put together a video which shows the contrast between greatness and suffering. All the pictures, with a couple of exceptions, are pictures I have taken over the last three years. The images are set to the song “Another Day in Paradise” by Phil Collins. I think the song captures the tension I feel between the good life I live, and my fellow human beings who barely live. And it asks the question- “Is there nothing more we can do?”

Click here for the video on Vimeo.

Later in the day, I agreed to meet up with my family in Soho, which is a big shopping area in Manhattan. Big mistake. The sidewalks were pretty much impassable, not to mention the stores. Here's a visual...

I was standing at this place while my family went inside the Levi Store, and my claustrophobia began to kick in. After waiting and waiting and being pushed around on the sidewalk, I decided to bravely go into the store to see what was taking so long. All of the employees were wearing black t-shirts, and some had a verse from the Bible on it. Well, actually a revision of a verse- as seen in this photo:

(see Acts 20:35) So Levi knows more about life and what is "better" than Jesus. It is not better to give than receive. So let's put the focus on receiving. Perhaps we should quit buying Christmas gifts for others and just get what we want for ourselves. This would take the risk out of Christmas- where you get gifts you really don't want. You could still wrap them up and put them under the tree. If everyone did this, then everyone would have exactly what they want.

As I left the store, I noticed that they had been open on Thanksgiving Day. Why not? Just skip the whole thanksgiving thing and jump right into the spirit of the holiday- receiving.

I am by nature a planner. I like plans and schedules. I watch the clock. I'm on time. On the Meier Briggs test, I am a strong "J". If you're familiar with the test, then you understand how I might tend to view interruptions. I don't like them. This is an area of growth for me that I have recognized for some time. There are great qualities that go along with being a "J". But there is a significant downside, or 2. One of the greatest challenges I see is to surrender my life fully to God- to his plans and his agenda. Sometimes they are the same as mine, sometimes not. And some, perhaps many times, "interruptions" are part of the story God is writing with my life. I have to remember that he is the author of my life, with pen in hand each day. But in this case, the author does not coerce the subject in the story into living and make choices he wants. He  lets him (me) influence the storyline through his own free will. All that to say, I am trying to hold more loosely to my plans and to try to consider if an interruption or change of plans might be where the story is supposed to go. And when I do this, often I find myself in interesting and unique situations.  

Case in point. This last Saturday began with what is a Communitas annual tradition. We help the New York City Rescue Mission prepare for their Thanksgiving Banquet by assembling gift bags to be given out- over 1000 gift bags. Below you can see our great team who helped us get the job done this Saturday.

We finished up earlier than expected, with is always a good thing for a "J". I had a full day planned. There was much to do to be ready for Sunday's Thanksgiving service. Many errands. And I needed to get in a run. It's only 351 days until I run in the NYC Marathon, and I have charted out my runs and training schedule. I had missed a run already this week and wanted to take advantage of the beautiful fall day and bike up to Central Park for a 6 mile run. I was happy! An extra hour to get it all done!

I was no more than a block away from the mission when my cell phone rang. It was a friend from Canada who owns a company that makes the large balloons for parades and then actually takes them to parade sites and gets them ready. His truck had arrived in Stamford, CT, but his workers missed their flight. Did I know of anyone who could take the train up to Stamford and help out? After some phone calls to friends produced no one available, I knew that my plans needed to change.

That's how I found myself on a train with Keith Kallen heading up to Stamford. That's how I ended up inflating about 10 large balloons (after about 5 minutes of training on the job). That's how I got to spend a few hours out of the city in a "small town", interacting with children who came out by the hundreds to watch. That's how I experienced one of the most joyous afternoons in a long time. All due to an interruption. Here's a couple of pictures to prove I'm not just making this up!

In this case, this interruption was not about anything all that significant. It was just helping a friend and helping a parade happen. I think it was more of a gift to me- an invitation to give up my plans and to have an unexpected day and experience, and to hang out with Keith and laugh together at what we were doing. (At one point I commented to Keith, "If anyone told us when we woke up this morning that we would be in Stamford later in the day inflating large parade balloons, there is no way would could have understood how that might happen!")

And everything on my to do list that really needed to get done, got done. I got my run in early Sunday morning. And as I ran and thought about what joy I would have missed if I had insisted on "sticking to my plans." Perhaps the experience nudged me toward a bit more flexibility, and willingness to see what story it is God wants to write with my life, one day at a time.

By the way, Keith made in into the Stamford Advocate newspaper. Check it out on line!

This morning, I awoke to the sound of sirens blaring. That certainly adds to one's anxiety. Sirens typically signal something bad- some disaster, accident, fire. The sound is a poignant reminder that all is not well in the world, in someone's world. Since moving to NYC, I have come to virtually ignore the sound. I usually don't hear it. It happens too frequently. Last week we had some friends visiting and I noticed how often they stopped to see what all the noise was about as ambulances or fire engines raced by. If I was alone, I probably would not have even noticed.

The truth is that there is a 911 call about every 3 minutes in NYC- 20 per hour, nearly 500 per day. Those calls represent a lot of tragedy. The fact that I live across the street from 2 hospitals with emergency rooms means that I hear more than my share of sirens. Even as I write these words, I hear at least 4 different sirens. As I said, I have generally come to ignore them. I would not have been conscious of them had I not been writing this blog.

So- hardly awake this morning and dealing with my normal anxiety, I paid attention to the sirens. What a reminder of the brokenness and pain of the world I live in. As they moved away and became quieter to my ears, I thought that for someone, they were becoming louder as they approached them, coming to greet them in their tragedy. Did someone get hit by a car? Did someone die? Is someone's home or business burning to the ground? Has a loved one collapsed with a heart attack? This morning the sirens were not coming for me, but they were coming for someone like me. And for them, the pain and the brutality of this world are much more that a statistic.

I decided that I'm going to try to pay attention to the sirens and to let them serve as a reminder to pray in the moment for those to whom the ambulance is rushing. I also want to let the sound remind me of how crucial the task is of bringing hope to this broken world. There is a promise that all will not remain as it is. God is in the business of redemption- of people and of all of his creation. As John wrote:

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Rev 21)

And no more sirens.

This morning, with the sounds of tragedy ringing in my ears, I felt a longing for that day more that I ever have before. I have learned it's easy to block out the noise, and also to block out the reality of the brokenness which surrounds me everyday. And when I do that, I lose some of the urgency that compels me to engage in the world as God's ambassador, bringing the message of love, reconciliation and promise of final restoration of all things (2 Cor 5).

When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

The poor, the crippled, the blind, the lame. Are we to take Jesus seriously on this? Well, to reinforce the message, he goes on to tell a parable about the final banquet. When the invited guests do not show up. the host asks that the invitation be given to... the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame. 

When I look at how Jesus spent his one time on earth, he gave a lot of attention to these people- people marginalized by their condition and social status. These are people who can do little for me, but are mostly in a position to receive. Jesus says- invite them in. Give to them.

When Communitas moved to our new Sunday location last March, it wasn't long before we noticed that the adjacent building was housing mentally disabled adults- most suffering from severe mental illness. We have been exploring since what it means for us to be their neighbors, and what it might mean to connect with them. We have been making small efforts. It's not easy. While some can, most cannot carry on a normal conversation for very long. On the one hand, it would seem better all around to expend on energies elsewhere. But then, there's these words of Jesus about those who can receive and give nothing back in return. Nothing reciprocal. No even exchange. 

After our gathering this Sunday, we brought about 100 donuts and 4 gallons of apple cider next door and spent some time celebrating the fall season with our neighbors.

It was quite a party the day before Halloween. Unlike any I have ever been a part of. Pieces of conversation. Broken communication. But smiles! And joy! And friendship! And I think for all of us in the room, we felt the pleasure of God.

I thought about these words from Psalm 39 as I read an article this week about the death of Steve Jobs, innovator and founder of Apple Corporation. Soon after he was diagnosed with cancer in 2006, he delivered the commencement address at Stanford University. Consider what he said to hundreds of graduates as they were about to begin a new chapter in their young lives:

"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life," he said. "Because almost everything -- all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure -- these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important."

Steve and family were pretty secretive about his health, and so we don’t know what he was told about the prognosis and how long he had to live. But it is clear from his words is that death was immanent- “soon.” And as he stared death in the face, he saw life with a fresh perspective. Things that once mattered too much no longer mattered at all. He was left with “only what is truly important.” He did not articulate what those important things were, but we can easily speculate that they were centered on people and relationships.

 Steve lived another 5 years after he spoke of dying soon. My guess is that he did indeed live those years differently. Today, the thought struck me that I am also dying soon- as we all are. Whether I have another day, decade, or half century (which I know I don’t), I will certainly face the day that Steve just faced- his last day on earth. So why should I wait until a doctor tells me it’s nearly over before I reevaluate my life? It is nearly over!

 Steve called his immanent death the most important tool to help him live. His words can be a tool for all of us who still live, even if there may be no prognosis of “I’ll be dead soon.”  They may help us to remember and act on what is truly important.

I'm guessing that the doctor gave Steve a likely “number of his days” left for him- probably more in terms of months or years.  He took it as a gift to help him live differently, better. He saw how fleeting his life was. We can do the same. We can ask, like the writer of Psalm 39, for God’s help in numbering our days. The point in the end is not the number, because we can never know that. The point is that there is a number, which is another way of saying there is an end- a last day. And when we see that, we see how fleeting life is. And in this is the possibility for great wisdom- to change how we live while we live.

As a pastor, funerals are a part of my life. I have suffered some loss personally- my dad passed away 2 years ago. But most funerals have been for someone else’s family member or friend, and in those cases I am called upon to speak words of comfort, to give perspective, and to help loved ones to both grieve and to celebrate the life that is now gone.

This time I had no official role to play. As I looked around the room the thought occurred to me that most of the funerals I have attended or officiated at have been about an older person who has died. While all loss is painful, this seemed particularly tragic. During the eulogy, I learned that Anna was 22 years old. Last Saturday she was the victim of a random shooting, taking three bullets which instantly ended her life. And now before us was a motionless body, with no beating heart, no breath in her lungs, legs that would never again run, lips that would never speak another word in this life. It all felt so wrong. As people in room wept and sobbed in deep pain, my thoughts turned to my own daughter who also turned 22 this year. This summer, she was robbed at gunpoint. They took her stuff, but not her life. It could have turned out differently. There could have been an event like this one I was now attending. It could have been my beautiful daughter lying as though asleep whose laughter I would never again hear. And now the tears came as a sense of what the family and friends of Anna were now feeling, and who now had a gaping hole in their lives.

I listened more attentively to what the pastor was saying. Life is precious. Life is uncertain. In the end, only people matter. Look around the room. Learn from Anna’s death to treasure and love those God has put in your life. None of us know when life will end- ours or others.

The service ended with lots of Scripture being read aloud- about Jesus defeating death- about eternal life, about the peace and comfort of God. How could we possibly gone on without these promises?

Death gives perspective. As my friend and I took the long subway ride from the Bronx back to Manhattan, my prayer was that I would indeed treasure life and those relationships I have even more.

I know that a variety of reasons might be offered for this strange reality- someone who has made his whole life about helping people search for and develop their relationship with God- and then not doing a very good job conversing with him. I am way too independent, and prayer, at least in part, involves dependency. I am too much of an activist- preferring to roll up my sleeves and get to work. While I know biblically this is not the case, often prayer seems like it is taking away from just getting to the work. (yes- I know the quote “Prayer is the work of God”). But I think that over the years it has been the theological questions and puzzles that have made prayer difficult for me. I need to understand things, and I struggle to understand how prayer works.

You know the questions. How does my prayer interact with God’s sovereignty? Why ask God for something more than once? Or even better, since he knows everything, why ask at all? And why does God clearly seem to answer some prayers, and not others. Why does he help someone find a job, but not heal the child who has cancer? Maybe more than anything else about prayer I have been frustrated to understand why God answers some prayers, which I firmly believe he does, while other prayers seem to fall on deaf ears. Can we count on God? What expectations should we have when it comes to prayer?

Over the years I have read many, many books on prayer, listened to messages on the subject, discussed and argued the matter with friends. And while many of the questions persist even with the best arguments in hand, there has been a slow, perhaps painstakingly slow movement in my heart. This is largely due to my desire to be with God and enjoy his presence more than figuring out the questions about prayer. Another way of putting it is that I have come to trust God more, and know that God really is good and loving and just, and that he would not invite me to pray and to ask him for things if there was no real purpose or value in it. Do I trust him? Then if he says “pray at all times” and “ask and your will receive” and “you have not because you ask not”, then I will take him at his word. To stubbornly resist prayer because of my theological problems with it now appears to be incredibly arrogant, as I doubt God and sit in judgment of him.

I am currently reading Yancey’s book, Prayer, which I highly recommend. In his typical style, Yancey tackles the questions about prayer head on and never offers simplistic answers and platitudes. He is willing to live in the mysteries about prayer.

Today in my reading  in Matthew, I came across these familiar words of Jesus:

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.”

Immediately, the questions came- “Always given? Will the door always be opened?” But then I read on, where Jesus explains God’s heart when we pray by appealing to how a parent responds to his own child: “Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone?” And I thought about what had just happened to me, as a father, earlier today.

My daughter called and shared that she was feeling really sick, and all the symptoms pointed to a kidney stone, something to which she is susceptible. Getting the call immediately altered my plans for the morning. My daughter was in trouble and needed help. The doctor was called, an appointment made, and I found myself on a subway traveling downtown (and walking through the Wall Street protests going on) to meet her.  Other plans had to be altered or set aside. This was not hard or difficult to do. I wanted to do it. I longed to be with her and to offer what help I could. I wanted to see her pain relieved and health return. None of what I was feeling or I did came out of a sense of duty as a “good parent”. It came completely out  of my love for her.

Jesus appeals to this experience as a parent when he comments on what he has just said about prayer. What I felt as I heard my daughter’s plea for help is supposed to help me understand how God feels when I am the one, his “child” who makes the call.  As Jesus concluded: If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!

Bottom line- do I believe that God really feels that, really experiences in his heart, the deep feelings that I feel for my daughter and sons? I have come to see that as the only question that matters. I will never understand all that is entailed in prayer- how it interacts with God’s purposes and human freedom , all in a fallen and broken world. But can I take Jesus at his word and believe that God loves me as my Father and wants me to always “make the call”- and that he will immediately get on the subway, so to speak, to  be with me?

That's what Jesus said he would do.

In the days following there was much discussion in my circles about trying to make sense out of it- where is God was when planes flown by terrorists slam into skyscrapers? There were prayers and sermons, and as is often the case when a crisis shatters our world, a general heightened interest in God. Not only did more people go to church that fall, but God made his way into our everyday life- even our national pastime- baseball. “Take me out to the ballgame” was replaced with “God Bless America” during the 7^th inning stretch as Americans held on to the hope that, in spite of this tragedy, God was on the side of America and democracy, and moving forward he would keep us safe and secure. It was an interesting mix of Christianity and politics and national pride.

The terrorist attacks revealed to us that perhaps we were not as secure as we believed, and that the sense of security we had enjoyed may have been a false security. Many pundits spoke and continue to speak of 9/11 as a “day that changed the world”. As I have reflected on that phrase over the past decade, I have come to believe that such a statement only makes sense to Americans. To a great deal of the rest of the world, violence, death, terrorism, uncertainty has long been a part of their reality. The world was already a place of uncertainty before 9/11/01- we were simply, for the most part, unacquainted with it personally. We saw it in the news, read about it in history books, but it did not happen to us.

One of the most intriguing phrases I heard, in prayers and sermons and conversations was this: “God is in control.” This, I have seen, is often repeated when things seem out of control. It is a phrase that apparently brings comfort to some people when the world becomes threatening and frightful. God is in control. Does that mean God wanted the terrorists to attack? He wanted nearly 3000 people to die? It seems to me that, if in moments like this when great evil is perpetrated, we claim that God is somehow controlling this, wanting this, not hating the evil, than we have a bigger problem than the terrorists. How do you trust a God who controls the world and it looks like this?

God does not control everything. If he did, than I would never sin. But I do sin, and my sin causes pain and sometimes wreaks havoc in the lives of those around me. Try telling those hurt by my behavior that “God is in control.” My sin is certainly not God’s will. What he “wills” is for me to repent, to change. Clearly, evil happens that is not a part of God’s will, as it did on 9/11. (btw, Jesus asked us to pray that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven- a clear teaching that God’s will is not always done on earth.)

So why do we run to the phrase “God is in control?” Because we do not like living in uncertainty. But we do live in uncertainty. Nearly everything is uncertain. We can lose nearly everything in a moment… except for what matters most- God’s love- a love that endures forever. Reflect on these words:

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom 8)

Nothing will separate us from God’s love in Jesus. Great promise! But look at the list of the things that may happen- trouble, hardship, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, sword, death, demons- that’s a whole lot of bad. But rather than trying to find comfort by claiming that “God is in control”, can we not say that in spite of these evils, “God loves us!” As the psalm writer said- God is our refuge- when the earth shakes and the seas roar. He is our help in a time of trouble (Ps 46).

I think responding to evil and tragedy with the idea that “God is in control” can actually push us from the help and comfort he can bring, because we are forced to somehow believe that these horrible things are a part of his plan, his master blueprint. Instead, I choose to call them evil, to believe that God hates evil and grieves with us in our pain, and that the cross more than anything else shows the lengths to  which God has gone to one day set us free from all of this.

Jesus put is this way: “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16). When towers fall and people die, and terror seems to have the final word, I find comfort and hope in the certainty that Jesus has overcome the world, though for now, there will be trouble.

Those are my thoughts living now in NYC 10 years later. There was another event in NYC that no one noticed. It didn’t make prime time. It was a small event- as small as a mustard seed. This event vividly reminded me of why I was called in 2008 to leave all that was familiar and comfortable and follow Jesus to this great city. On Labor Day, Sept 5, we baptized 2 followers of Jesus on a beach in NYC (before moving here, I didn’t realize NYC had beaches!)  Click this link to see evidence of Jesus’ Kingdom alive in NYC!