Roots

But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose confidence is in him.

He will be like a tree planted by the water
that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
and never fails to bear fruit.

--Jeremiah 17:7-8 (NIV)

My neighborhood in Johnson City, Tennessee is built on a semi-flood plain. There are all sorts of underground creeks that wind their way through the neighborhood which flows downhill towards the historic downtown district. There’s a creek—Jacob’s Creek, I believe—that runs along the railroad tracks and through downtown. It’s not a major waterway, but it’s home to a few fish, more trash than I’d like to admit and about a zillion ducks. All the water systems that flow under the Tree Streets Historic District neighborhood eventually end up in Jacob’s Creek. My house sits at the edge of the neighborhood, about a quarter of a mile from the Creek. If you didn’t know about these underground water systems it would make the sycamore tree in my backyard seem really out of place. Sycamores require incredible amounts of water and are typically found growing along the banks of rivers, not in backyards in historic districts. However, without this seemingly out-of-place tree, we wouldn’t be able to use our basement. Almost every time it rains, especially during hard rains, water flows downhill—towards the Creek—and through my backyard which floods. The sycamore tree, however, loves it. I’ve never seen water disappear faster than with that sycamore tree (except maybe from my Nalgene after a two mile run.) But it’s almost a symbiotic relationship; without the tree the whole place would flood, but without the floods the tree would die. And even during the last several years, during some of the worst drought in East Tennessee history (rainfall was 20+ inches below normal, cook fires in the national parks in the area were prohibited, and water was rationed in places) the sycamore tree continued to thrive. It did not fear when the heat came and its leaves were always green, for its roots ran deep into the streams.

The sycamore tree helps me make sense of verses like this in Jeremiah. I’m a foreigner here. I don’t sound like them, I don’t think like them, I haven’t been raised like them, I don’t eat like them. By all accounts I’m a bit out of place. But it’s my roots that are important. I can continue to grow here and work here because my roots have been able to reach the stream. My family and friends and my home congregation of Covenant Presbyterian Church have made sure I’m well watered. Without them I would never be able to do what I do. God has blessed me richly with them all. And even here, in this strange land where I’m a bit out of place, I’ve found some fresh streams. The people I work with continue to teach me and prove to me that there is hope here. Belfast and Northern Ireland will not live in drought forever. There are immense untapped streams here which lie just below the surface. So please, continue to cultivate the roots of the saplings in your communities and congregations and families that they might send out their roots to the streams.

Life through Lyrics

Music is a huge part of my life. Actually, that’s an understatement. Music helps define my life. My mother says I danced in utero. I learned to read music by following my father’s finger under the staffs in the hymnbook (while standing on the pew next to him.) I play piano and guitar, I’ve sung in an organized choir or band of some sort since I was 5, and I recently discovered that I identify places by the types of music they produce. For example, during my first Sunday service my pastor, Lesley, stood me up in front of the entire congregation to welcome me and ask me a few questions. Of course people wanted to know where I was from. Tennessee. They wanted to know a bit about Tennessee. Well, Tennessee is a very long state and I live in the far east corner. West Tennessee is Memphis, very blues-y, Elvis, R&B and river music. Middle Tennessee is Nashville, the country music capitol of the world. East Tennessee is Appalachia, bluegrass, fiddles, mandolins, with a very heavy Scotch-Irish influence. So apparently, the great state of Tennessee can be defined by its music. And so can so many other things.

Among the 1,325 songs on my iTunes (that’s 3 and a half days worth of music, and no it’s not excessive) are many songs that help me define God. God is outside of any human definition, but music helps me get close. So here are some excerpts from some of my favorite songs. I’m aware that taking some of these out of context is a bit dangerous, and some lines might even be confusing, but these are a collection of lines and phrases that help me see my faith. Some are obvious and some are not, but they all speak to me somehow. Since I define my life, my world and my faith by my music, I just wanted to give you a glimpse. (And keep in mind: these are only the songs that have words. So far, Belfast hasn’t been able to be ‘lyricized.’)

There’s a neon cross on that mountain sayin’, ‘Sinners best beware.’

That means that somebody went to the trouble to run power way up there.

But these mountains speak to my spirit, and I guess it kinda blows my mind

To think that someone could look at that vista and think God needs a neon sign.

--David LaMotte, Butler Street

God bless the children of Abraham.

God bless the Romans who reign.

God bless the peacemakers and warriors,

Who each think the other insane.

--David LaMotte, Peter

Late one night there in my bed,

Asking God for daily bread,

I asked God what God would want instead.

This is what God said,…

I want love to win the day

I want hope to be felt by everyone in every way

I want cooperation plus between the peoples of this earth,

‘Cause no one’s got it all right, no not one.

And I want dreams to goad you on, to take you down the road you’re on

And I want all to know I love them come what may.

And I want all to know I love them come what may.

That’s what I want.

--Bryan Field McFarland, What I Want

You are our confidant, our breath, our truest treasure;

You are our home, our jaunt, our life, our Lord, our leisure;

More than some bearded old dude enthroned upon a cloud

You’re in the shared, the solitude, you’re in both lone and loud, ‘cause

You are all in all, you are God above,

You are life itself, you are perfect love.

--Bryan Field McFarland, You Are

(Some quick shameless advertising for my friend, musician and activist, Bryan. Please check out his latest project '...until all are fed' in conjunction with the Presbyterian Hunger Program. Great music, great cause, glory be! Thanks! Okay, back to reading.)

Why are we waiting on someone else to tell us how it should be?

I've already found it and God didn’t tell me to waste these dreams.

--Everyday Sunday, Let’s Go Back

It takes no time to fall in love, but it takes you years to know what love is.

--Jason Mraz, Life is Wonderful

Oh no, gracious even God, bloodied on the cross your sins are washed enough.

A mother’s cry, ‘Is hate so deep? Must my baby’s bones this hungry fire feed?’

--Dave Matthew’s Band, The Last Stop

O gaze of love so melt my pride that I may in your house but kneel,

And in my brokenness, to cry, spring worship unto Thee.

--Jars of Clay, Hymn

I’m sorry for the person I became.

I’m sorry that it took so long for me to change.

I’m ready to be sure I never become that way again,

‘Cause who I am hates who I’ve been,

Who I am hates who I've been.

--Reliant K, Who I Am Hates Who I've Been

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments, oh dear

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights? In sunsets? In midnights? In cups of coffee?

In inches? In miles? In laughter? In strife?

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure a year in the life?

--Jonathan Larson, Seasons of Love from the musical RENT

Hey, I’ll be gone today, but I’ll be back on around the way;

Seems like everywhere I go, the more I see the less I know

But I know this one thing, that I love you.

--Michael Franti, Say Hey (I Love You)

I read my Bible every now and then,

And I believe the Lord hears me when I pray to him.

But the man on the radio says that ain’t enough,

Says I need to give up everything I love...

Now I believe in every word that Jesus said,

But he never said a man should have an empty bed,

And he never said drinkin’ was a hell-worthy sin.

So I think I’ll turn off the radio and just trust him.

--The Fox Hunt, Change My Ways

‘Our Father, who art in heaven

Holy is your name,

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,

Give us this day our bread,’

Then came the hardest part, the one that troubled every heart

Those haunting words of mystery that long have followed after me:

‘Forgive us. As we forgive

Forgive us. As we forgive

Forgive us. As we forgive each other.’

--John McCutcheon, Forgive Us

The 'Jump!' Tour

Check out pictures from the YAV's second retreat to Donegal, Ireland including trips to Derry/Londonderry, Northern Ireland, and the Giant's Causeway. Make sure to read captions for lots of explanations and stories.

Five Year Plan

‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.’ –Jesus in Matthew 11:28-30

Years ago, when I was a student at App State (that’s Appalachian State University, for those of you who don’t know and incidentally is pronounced ‘app-uh-LAH-chun’ not ‘app-uh-LAY-chun,’ but that’s really neither here nor there) I was involved with a campus ministry called Westminster-Canterbury Fellowship, or just WCF for short. We were sponsored by both the Presbyterian Church (USA) (thus the Westminster) and the Episcopalian Church (thus Canterbury) and housed people of all backgrounds and beliefs. One of the best events of the semester were our annual retreats; Fall Retreat in the fall, and Spring Retreat in—you guessed it—the spring. During one Spring Retreat we used the above verse as our theme, and one of the activities we did was to make Future Plans. So, I’ll admit I can’t really remember how the verses from Matthew fit into the 5-, 10-, and 15-year plans I made, but I marked the verses in my Bible and have been carrying around the sheet of yellow legal pad paper with said plans for years now. I think it had something to do with the principle that, yes, with Christ we don’t need to worry and his burden is light, but also, God can’t steer a parked car so it helps to have some sort of direction. As I turned 26 the other day, I realized that it was time to review my Five Year Plan. As I reviewed all I could think of was the saying, ‘If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.’ Well, I know I laughed and I’m sure God laughed and now I’m posting this in the hopes that maybe you’ll laugh. Let’s review, shall we?

Lynnea's Five Year Plan:

1) Married with a honeymoon in New Zealand. (No, although I’m still open to this idea.)

2) Looking towards owning a house. (Definitely not. Sorry, Mom, my stuff will just have to stay in the basement.)

3) Good job with the recreation department in Raleigh. (Okay, this one had some merit. I was going to do my internship with the Raleigh, NC, Park and Rec. Dept. and then was going to get a job with them. Too bad I never even got as far as the internship.)

4) $40,000+ income. (How I was gonna do this based on #3, I have no idea, but one can dream.)

5) One or two dogs. (Sadly, no.)

6) NICE CAR!!! (Okay, this is the only one I can kinda cross off the list! I had a nice car: a brand new 2009 Volkswagen Jetta Sport with leatherette interior, moonroof, and amazing sound system. It had 19 miles on the odometer when I drove it off the lot. Then I moved to Belfast and signed the title over to my Dad. Goodness knows how many miles he’s put on it since August. Chances of me getting Jayne the B.A. Jetta back when I return to the States: slim.)

7) Play the fiddle. (Survey says: no. Might help if I had ever had access to a fiddle.)

So there’s my Five Year Plan, exactly as I had drawn it up in April of 2005. I have a Ten Year Plan, too, so I’ll probably post that in another 5 years. As I look back on it, it’s easy to get discouraged in one sense. I’ve done nearly nothing that I had planned to do. I have no job, no significant other, no car, no house, not even a pet. But I get to live and work in Belfast, Northern Ireland, doing reconciliation ministry with youth and adults. I get the opportunity to study things first hand that I’ve only ever read about. I get to travel. I get write great blog posts.

If you had told me 5 years ago that I would in fact get to live out my Five Year Plan I probably would’ve been very excited. Now, if you told me I had to go back to that Five Year Plan I’d probably throw up. I definitely never thought I’d be here, but it’s good. God is good. I think I’ll let him make the plans now.

Gospel Lesson

How beautiful on the mountains
are the feet of those who bring good news,
who proclaim peace,
who bring good tidings,
who proclaim salvation,
who say to Zion,
"Your God reigns!" –Isaiah 52:7 (NIV)

“You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.” –Jesus in Matthew 5:38-42 (NIV)

Note: I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but one of the projects I’ve chosen to work with here is an organization called Beautiful Feet. It’s a homeless ministry that works the streets of Belfast serving sandwiches, tea and coffee to the homeless. Most importantly, we also serve a smile and a listening ear; five minutes on a Tuesday night is more positive attention than most of them get all week. We don’t hide the fact that we’re Christians, but neither do we proclaim it. Our purpose is not to preach with words but rather to live with action. We talk about whatever the men and women we meet want to talk about. Oddly enough, it’s often Jesus.

I was out at Beautiful Feet tonight and two things struck me: 1) I am way too emotionally attached to my stuff, and 2) the homeless drunks on the streets profess their faith more readily, more openly and more candidly than any Christian I’ve ever met.

Let’s start with point number one. Last week I was amazed to see Phen give away one of his favorite hoodies. I think he’s had it for years; I know he asked his mom to send it to him from home. And yet he readily, without much hesitation, gave it to a homeless man on the streets of Belfast who had no coat. I was amazed. And convicted. I am way too emotionally attached to my stuff and am way too unwilling to give it away. It’s easy to be self-righteous about things I’m willing to do, but the challenge from God is in the things I’m not willing to do. When Christ says, ‘If someone wants to take your shirt, give him your coat as well,’ he means it. And he doesn’t mean ‘give the coat you don’t want anyway’ or ‘give the coat you’re most willing to give’ but give your coat. The one from your back regardless of its ‘value.’ It’s only out of God’s grace and abundance that I have anything anyway. And Christ never said this was easy. I’m pretty sure he said it was downright difficult. Actually, I’m pretty sure he promised it would be downright difficult.

And let’s move on to point two. Even if their theology is a bit off and even if they bring up the Catholic/Protestant divide and even if they’re roaring drunk, the homeless alcoholics will readily tell you about Jesus. And actually, a lot of the time they’re pretty truthful. You can’t be in a conversation with any of them for more than about 30 seconds before Jesus makes an appearance. It strikes me as a little ironic; shouldn’t I be preaching to them? Isn’t that why I’m here? Not really. I’m here to listen, and—I’ve figured out—to learn. I show them love with a hot cup of tea or coffee, and they teach me what it means to really live the Gospel. What does it mean to give someone the shirt off your back? (Or the hat off your head? Or the gloves off your hands?) Jesus always did choose the least of these to be the greatest of teachers.