Sakamuyo

I wrote the following passage a little over four years ago. I sent it by email to my mentor and a couple friends, but didn’t publish it until 1 year ago. It’s the last piece from the old blog that I’m pulling over here. It’s as true today as it was 4 years ago.

I enjoy writing. I communicate effectively through the written word. Yet, I do not think I am a writer. At least, “writer” is not the primary label. I expect (and hope!) writing will be a big piece of what I do, but writing is subservient to a higher master. It’s the same with pastoring and teaching. I enjoy both, but these too are secondary labels. They are skills/resources to be put to use by the primary label.

I am a missionary. This is the primary label. My great desire is to introduce people to this Jesus guy knocking at their doors. I want to help them see God is already working in and through them, that they are already known by God. While my heart aches for a particular cultural group in my area and I am connecting within this community, I think a big part of my ministry will be helping other followers/ churches learn to reclaim this missional perspective and relearn what it means to be Christ-followers in this world.

Some of this will be done through face-to-face networking and relationships, but much will be communicated through writing, whether that’s blogging, writing articles for other sites, publishing in magazines, or eventually writing books. I will write, but for the sake of mission, not for the sake of writing.

As I imagine what the dream might look like as we move from dreaming to doing, I see a two-faceted personal ministry. Two sides to the same ministry, feeding one another. The first side is roll up the sleeves, put a little elbow grease into it, urban missions. It’s connecting, learning, sharing, and growing in Christ and community. It’s feeding the hungry and teaching them to feed themselves with their native crops. Indigenous church planting. The second side is writing. Sharing what we have learned in our context.

I am already a full-time missionary, earning my living from the ministry. I can imagine a time and place where writing pays the bills, but right now, it doesn’t. Today, I work a job in a retail establishment, where I get to meet a lot of people in the community. I drive right through the heart of the community twice a day. It gives me an excuse to stop at my favorite grocery store, a central hive. It gets me out of my cozy little studio and into the mission field.

My mentor’s new job title is “Urban Missionary.” I like it. I know I’m not supposed to think too much about titles, but they do come in handy and this one fits my heart as well as any other I’ve heard. Yes, I’m a writer. Yes, I like to take pictures. Yes, I like to preach and teach and lead others in worship. But those are things I do; they are not the vocation, the call.

This is a repost from Creation Calls Out. In the process of moving away from that site, I may move a few old posts this way. In this case, it’s part of who I am why we are here and where we are going.

I was six years old, looking into the mirror hung above the utility room sink where I had just brushed my teeth and combed my hair on the way to school. The reflection was nothing new; I’d figured out mirrors years before and was used to the magic. I was use to seeing my reflection, but I was not used to my reflection seeing me.

It only took a moment – a minute or two at the longest. My reflection stared down hard at my six-year old face and pronounced its eternal verdict: ugly, with no chance for love. The reflection substantiated its claim with evidence I could not refute: too many freckles on too round a face; a brown mole the size of a half-dollar on my left cheek; hair that wouldn’t stay in place no matter how often I combed it; lopsided ears and a crooked nose; and finally, a velour shirt with lapels of a size only found in the 1970′s.

At that moment, my innocence was lost. I knew the truth. I was ugly. I was unlovable. I was worthless. In one great wave of culpability, everything I had ever done wrong in my short life paraded before my eyes. Sin entered and I knew my unworthiness was deserved. I had sinned against God and my punishment was to be a living death. I went to church and I prayed and I sang and I listened to the sermon and I devoured the Bible and I did everything asked of me, but it was never enough. No matter how much I wished to please God, it was never enough. Sin remained. The law convicted. It was only a matter of time until justice collected my debt. continue reading…

This is a repost from Creation Calls Out just last week. In the process of moving away from that site, I may move a few old posts this way. In this case, it’s part of why this site is here and where we are going.

My name is Caedmon. I’m an alcoholic and addict.

Five years ago, I knew I had a serious problem. I had tried to fix it on my own, but the problem was bigger than me. I knew I was lost and no simple solution was going to make it go away. In the summer of 2005, I posted a prayer request asking God to take some drastic steps. He did. In January, 2006, I began handing my web design clients off to others. Then, in July, 2006, I sent a short email to a few close friends and disappeared from public life.

The details of the next couple years will remain in the past. Where I was and what I did aren’t important. I spent two years in complete brokenness, hearing the word of God, praying, being restored. By 2008, I knew I had been transformed – renewed by the persistent love and grace of God. Life was no longer hopeless. I no longer fell asleep at night wishing I could drift off into eternity without ever waking up. I knew I was loved. I knew with the power and friendship of Jesus, I could face the day ahead of me. I knew Jesus had overcome what I could not. I knew battling addiction would remain a daily regimen of thanking Jesus for yesterday’s help and asking for today’s. I knew the daily asking of grace was not something to move beyond or be ashamed of, but was the real presence of daily working out my salvation.

What I did not know was where this new life would take me. continue reading…

I am being convicted of my American, consumerist lifestyle. Relative to the whole, my income is below poverty level, yet I still manage to buy and consume stuff at a rate that can’t be good for our planet. I talk about living “in the world, but not of it” and avoid the major sins currently condemned by conservative christianity, yet I recognize how much my thoughts and actions are conformed by this world.

What does it look like in contemporary America to reject the ways of the world and live instead according to the ways of God’s kingdom? Do the Anabaptists (and others who choose differing levels of physical separation from the worldly kingdom) have it right? Do we impact the culture around us by peacefully separating from them? That goes against mainstream evangelistic technique, but what are our techniques really evangelizing to? Do we need to follow the lead of St Francis and cast off all worldly possession? Is that even possible?

The whole story of Scripture seems clear that children of God cannot simultaneously live as children of the world. We aren’t given the luxury of living both lives; there is no “best of both worlds” paradigm. What does it look like to resist the ways of this world while carrying out Jesus’ mission to this world? Who are our modern-day examples living this life in urban, first-world settings?