Earlier this week, I volunteered at Manna House (more about Manna House here, here and here) as I often do. There is never a time that I leave there without some new insight, but on this day I left with a book in hand as well.

The book, Radical Compassion, Finding Christ in the Heart of the Poor, (Amazon link*) is by Gary Smith, S.J., a Jesuit priest who lived and worked among the poor of Portland, Oregon for nearly 10 years. It is a journal of his ministry to them and their ministry to him, a collection of personal stories about his relationships with people who have been neglected, abused, beaten down and have endured struggles and hardships that are painful to read.

But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame* the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things — and the things that are not — to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him.
I Corinthians 1:27-29

Note: King James Version uses the word confound — to perplex or amaze, especially by a sudden disturbance or surprise; bewilder; confuse — instead of shame. But I think both are applicable.

Some of the stories are funny, some sad, some are agonizing to read, but the story of a man named Robert is particularly poignant — the kind of poignant that makes it difficult to see the pages through the tears. Father Smith met Robert, 38, depressed, addicted to drugs and HIV positive and for the next two years or so, walked with him through his illness and death. Toward the end of his life, Robert asked to be baptized and during that holy moment, Father Smith shared the story of the good Samaritan. His reflections on that passage are profound:

You are the good Samaritan, Robert, because you have pulled all of us out of the safe trenches of our lives. And your love — so squeezed out of you by life and history — you have claimed again and given back to us a hundredfold. What a grace it is to be present to see you commit your life to the one who is the author of your love. Your faith is healing oil for our wounds.

And so the weak shame, confound — teach, nurture, edify — the strong. May we all know a good Samaritan.

*The only thing I get if you buy and read this book is a bit of satisfaction.

I hate politics. It’s not that I don’t care. I care deeply and I believe honest, moral people can disagree about issues.

What I hate about politics is that neither side can manage to disagree without character assassination.

And, if I’m candid, the people who have disappointed me most in this are Christians. Christians on both sides. And I don’t exclude myself.

How can you follow Jesus if you tear down others because they disagree with your political position?

Does the fact that it’s really clever make it ok?

If you have kids, do you tolerate name calling between them? What makes you think God does?

If we are His children, how must He feel about the way we treat each other? Do you think He smiles when you insult your opponent? Does He laugh at your snide comments? Would He give you a divine fist bump for that funny putdown?

I’m going to go with … no.

When one of my daughters was younger, she made some rude remarks to a friend on Facebook. I grounded her from Facebook for about two months and, if I remember correctly, she had to write a short paper about kindness, complete with biblical citations.

Now I read tweets, Facebook updates and blog posts from grown men and women, many of whom profess to be Christ followers, that are far more defamatory than the comments that got my daughter grounded.

Is it ok to be vicious in the name of God? Again, I’m going with the no.

Does it mean we can’t express our views and stand for what we believe? Of course not. It just means we need to separate difference of opinion from disrespect of person.

When my girls were younger, I had a three-tiered system for dealing with disrespectful treatment of siblings. If clearly one-sided, the offender was required to perform an act of service for her sister. Mutual combat warranted a team project; an unpleasant task completed together. If the problem persisted, the next step was the togetherness hour; 60 minutes spent holding hands. And, yes, that meant the bathroom. I believe I had to impose a togetherness hour once. After that time, the mere threat was an effective deterrent.

I propose a team project for the Democrats and the Republicans. Start small. Pick up trash on Capitol Hill. Get out the hammer and nails and go repair a home or two. Clean up a highway. Scrub a toilet.

Then come together and discuss the issues with that person who held the ladder for you and handed you the hammer. The one whose worries, concerns and struggles are not that different from your own. Your sibling in the family of God.

Perhaps then the rhetoric would come down a notch — or a hundred.

Otherwise, I’ll propose a togetherness hour with … those horrible Democrats those nasty Republicans your brothers and sisters.

This coming weekend, March 12 – 13, more than 400 young adults from nine states just might raise the roof of the Orpheum in downtown Memphis, as The Rising kicks off a weekend of worship, teaching and service.

What’s The Rising? Their Web site describes it as “a two-day multicultural experience in the urban core of Memphis designed to engage the mind, heart and soul.”

This is The Rising’s second year and director John Bryson is excited about the downtown venue as it “gets young people into the center of our city and they see Memphis in a new light.” Bryson, a teaching pastor at Fellowship Memphis, is passionate about racial reconciliation and he and his team have crafted a culturally-diverse weekend that “represents the diversity and beauty of Memphis” and is the only gathering of its kind in the country.

Read the rest on Memphis Connect

I just posted this on Memphis Connect:

Joe Carson talks with a friend in downtown Memphis

If you were asked to write your eulogy, how would it read?

For Kelli and Dr. Joe Carson, members of The Life Church of Memphis, that question launched a journey that led them from a comfortable suburban life to ministry in neighborhoods that people who look like them generally avoid.

The eulogy assignment was part of a small group Bible study that led the to Carsons re-evaluate their priorities. Kelli recalls. “We asked ourselves, with our kids nearly grown, what will the rest of our lives look like? A continuation of country club, travel, suburban privileged life? Or are we willing to invest in others?” After a month of intensely-focused prayer, the couple decided to sell Joe’s successful Bartlett dental practice to free them up for full-time ministry. It sold quickly and three weeks later, The Life Church’s senior pastor, John Siebeling, asked them to lead the church’s ministry to homeless persons.
Read the full story