Vomit Never Gets Old (To My Crew)

I had to do something.
So I made up two rules on the spot.  

I had to.  

We were driving home from the Summer Family Beach Bash and Baptism.  

I had the van-load of youth.  And the streets were lined with people: walking dogs, lugging beach gear, cruising bicycles, holding hands, and sporting mohawks. Behind tinted windows, I knew my crew couldn’t resist the temptation to interact with most of these pedestrians.  It was going to happen.  And some of it was going to be inappropriate.

So I set the stage.

“Look guys.  I have two rules. One, you can’t be rude or mean."  Pausing to let the first rule sink in, I continued, "...Two, if you yell out the window, it’s got to be funny.”

Being the effective educator that I am, I modeled the strategy.  First, I honked at a grandma.  She waved as if she knew me and my whole van waved back.   Then I prompted a bulldog to look our direction with a simple, “What up doooog?”  This move was also a 'hit' for my passengers.

That's when a student riding in the front seat came up with his own 'shtick.'

Using the extra lemonade from the picnic, this student filled his mouth and then waited for the eye contact of a walking bystander.   Once he got the eye contact, he expelled the lemonade on the pavement below our vehicle, making repulsive sounds to boot.  To everyone watching, it looked like he had caught the flu and was hurling his dinner.  He was fake-puking. And by the third attempt he perfected it all, the ‘heave,” the deep burp and even the dry heave that follows.  

Pedestrians were shocked.

But our van could not stop laughing.

This act followed my rules. It certainly was ridiculous.  But it wasn’t mean.  It didn’t hurt anyone.   And it was exceedingly funny (to us).

So I let it go.

And so it happened over and over, until we got home.

Next time, I'm thinking I need three or four rules.   

On Being Missional (And Not) With My Muslim Friends: Summer Camp Series 4

Getting Muslims to go to camp is one thing.   Getting them to follow Jesus is a whole other thing.   It seems like a humungous jump, a God- sized miracle.

These are not the young men I am referring to. But they are amazing too.

Conversion is up to me?

The crazy thing is, I’m not even convinced that conversion is my job.   Sure, I play a part in the story.  We are, after all, God’s instruments.  The church is to be His hands and feet on Earth.  We are called to love unconditionally, as He does.  But I am not feeling the pressure of converting my four friends in the span of seven days and six nights, in between zip line rides and pool Olympics.  No mam.  I told my friends as much too. 

In a conversation on the front end of the trip, “I won’t be putting pressure on you to convert up there or make you feel weird or embarrassed.  More than anything I want to know you more and make memories together.   Sure, it’s important to me that you hear about the Jesus I follow. You probably know him as ‘Isa al Masih,’ from the Qur’ ran.”

They nodded. I continued, “We will be talking about him and about our lives every night up at camp.   I just want you to be respectful and honest.  But I am not about putting the squeeze on you.”
With the look of relief, “We got you, Coach.”

God is The Transformer

It is still God who still holds the patent on transformation folks.   His Spirit does the work of changing hearts.  It’s not us.  Carl Medearis, author of Muslims, Christians and Jesus, is helping me think through this tension.   After years of ministering, working, and living with Muslims in the Middle East, Medearis shares that “…I stopped making it my mission to ‘convert’ anyone to the things I thought were important.  I learned that by following the Holy Spirit and being obedient to the teachings of Jesus, I could watch God save a person.  I learned that it is the Spirit’s responsibility to bring people to himself, not mine” (143).   In another place, he shares, “…we are not even here to “build the kingdom” but rather to obey the king.  Kings build their own kingdoms.  And Jesus can surely build his.  We are involved in the process because we follow him” (35).

UrbanLife’s Congruent Core Value

Because I am investing resources into relationships with Muslim friends, it helps that my boss and my board are fans.  A core value at UrbanLife is agendaless-ness with youth.  Youth are not and should not only be loved and mentored and invested in, if it’s probable or likely that they will follow Christ. Agendaless-ness – We are committed to building friendships with people in the inner city without an agenda or purpose. If we love people so that they do something or go somewhere (i.e. our church or program), we have ceased to love them and have moved into manipulation. We have hopes, dreams, and visions for what our friends can become but if none of those ever get realized, the friendship remains.  Jesus loved us before we first loved Him.  He loves and pursues and invests in even the most rebellious and apathetic.  See Prodigal Son Luke 15.  So at UrbanLife, we know that many will not turn to Jesus in our time working with them.  We know that, like my four Muslim friends, following Jesus might mean upending a lot that is currently stable in their lives: family, culture, friends.  That’s a big ‘ask.’  And this kind of movement may require a Paul-like experience of God that is so powerful, it cannot be denied.  I’m not off the hook.   But that part is definitely God.

Butt-Crack-Daybreak-Rooster-Crowing-Top-of-the-Morning Surfing Lessons: Summer Camp Series 3

You want ridiculous?


How about the moment you get word that your cabin is assigned the 7:30 am slot for surfing lessons.
That's right, 7:30 am.
Not mid morning.
Not late morning.
But the "butt-crack-daybreak-rooster-crowing-top-of-the-morning."

Lucky us.
And lucky me.  I got the task of herding them into the icy water with the promise of fun and exhilaration.

Fortunately, a few of them characterized their experience the same way, but in different words.
"That was boo!"
"Did you see me out there?"
"That was tight!"

Clearly, adventure opens up new areas of the our spirit.  Getting out of the city is a good good thing for us. Hoping to facilitate more of these experiences, as the summer moves on.

Sneaking Up on the Guy Sneaking Out: Summer Camp Series 2

It was only the first night.  But it was beyond midnight and I already had an empty bunk. 

 

Sneaky Guy may appear in this photo.

This wasn’t my first rodeo.  And so the investigation began, through blurry eyes and the gravity of sleepiness. By process of elimination, I discovered who my escapee was.  “D” used the back cabin door as an exit, taking advantage of the fact that there were twice as many doors (2) as adults in the cabin (1).   D just happened to have a girlfriend across the way.  And I was betting she had escaped as well.  Text messages went out to the women’s cabin leader.   Sound sleep kept that leader from returning the message.  Unsure that I would be able to locate the escapees in the dark of the night, I took a different strategy: Lie in wait.

That’s right: Lie (in D’s bed) & wait (while getting sleep).

The first sound I heard was the turn of the door handle.  Then moonlight snuck through the doorframe.  Dude thought he was smooth.  He tiptoed, over a suitcase and towards the bunk.  I remained silent. He put two hands on the bed rail to push himself up.  Suddenly, nose-to-nose, he noticed.

He jumped back.

I popped up.

Silence.

Then, “Get in bed.”        

And.         Then.           “We’ll talk in the morning.”

B---u---s---t---e---d.

On Getting 4 Muslim Friends to Camp: Summer Camp Series 1

I knew Dalmar wanted to go to camp. I knew that he would have the time of his life. He’d heard about it for years from friends and teammates. I just didn’t know if we’d be able to get him on the bus. 

You see, he is a Muslim. And this was Christian camp experience. For years, we have been working with Muslim students. Our neighborhood is hyper-diverse. With over 30 languages and dialects among over 80,000 people, it’s been dubbed “The Ellis Island of the West.” Diversity of faith follows too. In a 3-block walk from Urbanlife, one can step foot into a Muslim mosque, a Buddhist temple, a Jehovah's Witness Kingdom Hall, or an LDS church. Somali refugees are predominantly Muslim, both culturally and by faith. Many of these students come to "club" on Monday nights, where we eat together, play games of all sorts, and listen to a short message from the Bible. At times, they come to our "small groups," where we discuss life issues and apply biblical teachings. Often times, students won't read the scripture aloud or hold a Bible. But more often than not, they will discuss honestly and add value to conversation. But getting students out of town and on overnight experiences is a whole other challenge.

I knew Dalmar wanted to go to camp. I knew that our mentoring friendship would deepen exponentially if we got to spend a week together. . I just didn’t know if we’d be able to get him on the bus. 

Dusting off my recruiting skills from community college basketball coaching, I made getting Dalmar to camp, a top priority. I started early. Cost is a common obstacle for students. We overcame this one early. Dalmar, and friend Ali, worked on the UrbanLife farm on a Saturday morning in June. This guaranteed their spot and provided a sweat-equity style down payment. But the obstacles began to mount.
Through text messages, I would read, “I can’t go, I have basketball.”
 Later, “I don’t think my mom is gonna let me go.”
 Then, “My mom said no and I really wanted to go…she feels like you are a stranger and stuff like that.”
I wondered if his mom was up for meeting me. She agreed to a home visit. But with limited English skills, she sent me through an interview with Mo’s sisters (2), brothers (2) and nephew (1). 
I passed.
Dalmar was given permission. And he wasted no time thanking me:

We faced a few minor obstacles after that meeting. 
A week before, “The only problem is the money coach, but I really want to go.” 
And, “I forgot my papers at home.” We got over the hurdles. 

 I knew Dalmar wanted to go to camp. As his basketball coach, I knew that he was a natural leader and would bring students with him. I just didn’t know if we’d be able to get him on the bus.

Once Dalmar got the 'green light' from his mom, he started working on his friends. He invited Khalid. Khalid was a family friend of Dalmar's for years. He attended a local school, but had never come to UrbanLife or met us. He was ready to pay full pop and was excited about the trip. But it wasn't until his mother pulled up, wearing a hijab and adorned in henna designs from fingertip to elbow, did I believe he was coming. 

Dalmar also invited Ali. I knew Ali because I coached him this past year. In his case, we faced additional barriers that surfaced less than 24 hours before our departure. Getting him clearance required early conversations with a brother, an additional home visit the morning of camp, and door-to-door van chauffeur service. We did it all.

Dalmar made it on the bus.
Ali made it on the bus.
Khalid made it on the bus.
And Dahir (a 4th) made it on the bus.

I knew Dalmar wanted to go to camp.  And now, he was coming with friends!

Waterslide Photos 'Turned Up'

3 on 3 Tournament for Zero

In urban ministry, sometimes you just shoot an 'air-ball.' 

For all the non-hoopers out there, this is when your basketball doesn’t make it in the goal, hit the backboard, touch the rim, or even graze the net. It’s a bad thing in hoops.  It's embarrassing when people see it.   Adding insult to injury, opposing crowds often chant, "Air----ball!    Air----ball!" to draw painful attention to the blunder.

It happened to me this past week. And before you start chanting, allow me to describe.

A month ago though, I was confident about facilitating a 3:3 basketball tournament in the park. I called it "Asphalt Jungle" and reserved the four outdoor courts at Colina Del Sol Park.

I had all kinds of good logic to back up my plan.

-       It’s incarnational.  It sends me into the world of my students.  ‘Chilling’ and hooping at the park.

-       Kids will be out of school with nothing to do.

-       It will be a perfect momentum-building event the week before camp.

-       Keeping them in organized activity, keeps them out of unorganized crime.

-       Students love to compete, and be called champions, even if it is “Champion of the outdoor park in the 92109 area code on a Tuesday in 2013.”

-       The court, with 4 outdoor hoops, costs only $10 an hour to rent.

It didn’t go down so well.

At 10am, I pictured swarms of students breaking into teams and signing up.

There were zero.

I envisioned 4 courts of games, teams battling simultaneously.

I chose the hoop with the best net and shot 10 free throws alone.

I thought I’d be settling score disputes and refereeing foul calls.

I never had to flip the scoreboard past 00.

I prepped a full tank of Gatorade to keep the boys hydrated in the hot sun.

I ended up sharing a glass with a 5^th grader that rode up on his bike.

I planned to crown the victors at a local pizza joint.

I ate my sack lunch back at the UrbanLife office.

In the end, I am not all that disappointed.  In fact, I still think this event has potential to be one of the most fruitful street-level outreach efforts we can possibly do.  I am even going to try it again in a month or so. 

Next time, the best of my energy and voice will not be lost on recruiting for summer camp.   Next time, I’ll realize that students aren’t getting to the park by 10 am on a lazy summer morning.  Next time, I won’t be working on my own jump shot.  And next time, I will actually need that Gatorade to make it through the day. 

All basketball shooters throw up air-balls from time to time.  The great shooters block out the crowd's heckling and move on to the next shot.  That's what I intend to do.

Just pass me the ball now.