What a Trip!

At St. Stephen the Martyr, we dared to be different. And boy was it worth it. We started almost a year ago exploring ways to do a congregational mission trip, a cross-generational experience for following Jesus together and sharing our faith.

We sputtered along for a while in our research places that could accomodate the youngest and oldest alike, until we talked to Imago Dei Village, an ELCA camp in Clintonville, Wisconsin. They liked the idea of a cross-generational trip and thought that their week of family camp could provide a way to make it happen. Sure enough, the program director of the camp used his contacts in the area to find a service project where we could work in the community during the afternoons. The bonus was that we could still also have the spiritual formation of camp, like daily worships, Bible studies, and campfires. It was AWESOME!!!

Our 7 adults and 5 teens worked in the thrift store in nearby Marion, transitioning out their summer stock and organizing their winter displays. Above the store are two apartments which are being remodelled as low-income transitional housing. We were able to finish one of the apartments to get it ready for tenants to move in this fall.

Our youngest kids were busy too. With the assistance of some parents and counselors, 5 kids ages 1 through 5 shopped for dry goods and dropped off their donations to the food pantry; they created photo books entitled "God Made the ABC's" and made "peace" wall hangings to welcome the tenants to their new homes and show God's hand in preparing their fresh start.

As we sought to get involved in God's inbreaking kingdom through our service project, we were constantly being blessed ourselves. People we met in the community, old and young alike, inspired us and offered their help. The growth in faith was obvious by the end of the week as people went deeper into their prayer lives, encouraged fellow disciples, and even found the healing power of Jesus by trusting in his followers.

When we returned home, the congregation welcomed us with a potluck dinner as we shared our witness and displayed our photos. We received back from many people the prayer cards they had with a name of a person on the travel team. The support of their prayers was evident all week. People made donations for next year's trip. The congregation joined us in a worship experience much like what we enjoyed at camp. And already we have as many new people saying they want to go next year as we had go this year. Perhaps we could even double or triple the size of our group. In all, a low estimate suggests that we had around 200 people directly involved in our congregational mission trip in some aspect of the collaboration.

The kingdom of God has come near. Turn and see.

For Kaz

As many of you know my father-in-law, Kaz Szczepanik, died unexpectedly of a heart attack on September 3. He was 63. This man devoted himself to his family. He hated goodbyes, always shedding tears when he sent his children off to college, a new home, or even a short weekend trip. We shed our tears, and still are shedding them, in saying our goodbye to dad.

His was our fourth funeral in 12 months. The last time I saw my mentor theologian Dr. Walter Bouman as he was nearing death, he would not allow me to say goodbye to him. He said that Germans don't say goodbye; they say auf wiedersehen, which means "until we see again."

Maya, my three year old daughter who is a better theologian than me, reminded me of this last week. As I helped her out of her car seat upon arriving for Dad's first wake, I wanted to prepare her for what she was about to experience. So I asked her, "Maya, do you know what you will see when we go into the funeral home?"

"Yes, Daddy. Papa's body will be there. It will look like he's sleeping, but he's dead. When Jesus comes, he will raise him from the dead, and we'll see him in the resurrection."

Amen. I had nothing to add to help her anticipate the situation. We will see him again. That promise, that hope, that anticipation is what empowers us to continue living as we grieve and to heal as we mourn.

So if my Polish father-in-law will permit me to speak in German for a bit - - Auf Wiedersehen, Dad. We love you. We miss you. See you in God's shalom.

Orthopraxy Prayer

OK, so this is just about turning into Maya's blog instead of mine. But I can't resist sharing another of her bedtime prayers. It speaks to the practice of communing kids when they are baptized. We encounter our risen Lord and grow into this experience -- not learn about him until we're qualified to meet him.

Every night I ask her what she would like to pray about. Her answers used to be predictable, like thank you for mommy. But now she wants to pray about crazy things. I've fought the urge to correct her answers, to suggest something more meaningful. So I just go with the flow. And now I've realized that when she wants to pray for her door, her window, her ceiling, daddy's nose, and all this crazy stuff, what she's doing is giving thanks to God for the first thing that she sees. She just opens her eyes, and knows that God has everything to do with whatever is in front of her. Her prayers begin with this simple mundane observation of an ordinary object then grow into an awareness of God connected to every basic element of life.

Here's her prayer from tonight:

Dear God,

Thank you for daddy.

Thank you for daddy's nose.

I like to eat bread and wine

at Pastor Sue's church,

at Pastor Gail's church.

Jesus comes to us.

Thank you God.

Amen.

Gospel at the Ball Game

I took Maya to Miller Park to watch the Brewers play the Pittsburgh Pirates on our special Daddy-Daughter Day. We sat four rows from the rightfield fence, staring at the black and gold '36' on the back of Craig Wilson's jersey every time the Pirates took the field. As expected, two younger "men" enjoying their Miller Time harrassed Wilson mercilessly, frequently calling his sexuality into question.

"Wilson, you suck!"

"Wilson, get off your knees!"

"Wilson, are you growing your hair out for gay porn?"

"Wilson, you're a woman!"

"Hey Wilson, you still suck!"

And my favorite, "Wilson, Castaway was a bad movie!"

I wondered to myself what the appropriate parental response is in such a situation. I decided that as long as Maya didn't mention it, I'd not address the topic with her in hopes that she didn't notice. But she noticed.

Boy did she ever notice. The next thing I know, Maya stood up on the bleacher and yelled as loud as she could, "Wilson, come out!"

I was shocked. No, I was mortified. How could my sweet little girl yell such a bigotted comment? Even more puzzling, how could my three year old baby know what 'coming out' meant?

So rather than yelling at her on the spot -- my knee jerk reaction -- I decided to make sure she actually said what I thought I heard.

"I said, 'Wilson, come out, daddy'."

Yep, that's what I thought she said. My next question: "What do you mean, Maya?"

"That's what Jesus says to Lazarus."

And with that, she yelled back to the rightfielder at the top of her lungs, "Wilson, come out of your tomb! You are alive. Jesus raises you from the dead."

Even if you play for the wrong team.

Learning to Pray

Prayer is powerful. It changes people. It's not just about talking to God, but also about listening to God speak to us.

O.K., so where am I going with this? This isn't anyting that we haven't heard a million times in Sunday School and children's sermons. But tonight I heard God speak to me through the voice of my three year old daughter, Maya. This was her prayer at bed time (for which she had me repeat her after each phrase):

Dear God,

I like to eat.

Help us to feed us.

Help us to feed you . . .

to other people.

I love you.

I love you.

I love your people.

You love me and the people.

Thank you, God.

O.K. Alright.

I pray to your nose.

I pray to your mouth.

Your eyes and your ears.

And your fingers.

O.K. Alright.

Ahhhhhhh-men.