Worship used to be all-encompassing.  Not that I always worshiped, but I certainly did my best to direct all attention to the One who is greater.  That’s what I taught (and hopefully) modeled for my teens.  That in actions, thoughts, and words, God would be recognized and we would be humble.

Since leaving the professional ministry (whatever that is supposed to be), and taking the role of a pariah (unwillingly), worship has become less of what I know it to be.  Finding a community to worship with has been a 2-year endeavor.  And worship has been relegated to that hour or so each week.

Or so I thought.

After recently hearing a sermon on worship, I took a retrospective.  Eventhough my mind has not been geared toward this purpose, my lifestyle (and that of my family) has certainly been one of worship.  As I have been teaching in the public school system this year, I realize that I have lived as servant, shown compassion to my students, encouraged them to be more than expected, and asked them to follow my lead and do as I do.  And through this all I have tried to reflect the realness of Jesus of Nazareth, the love of the Spirit, and the awesomeness of God the Father.

Then today I remembered the words of one of my teens from 5 years ago.  After months of living the idea of “the way you worship is the way you live,” my friend Zach, who was only about 16 at the time, said, “This is God as a lifestyle.”

Zach had nailed it.  The whole of life is for God to be our lifestyle.  I take encouragement knowing that even with inner doubt, anger, frustration, and fatigue, the lifestyle has been centered on the same thing.

And as I’m typing this, my wife sends me a text that reads in part: “the LORD delights in those who put their hope in his unfailing love.”  Feeling unlovable and questioning so much was not enough to dissuade God’s unfailing love.

That is more than enough cause to make worship a lifestyle.

Related Posts:

• My Father’s Work
• Where Is God in Brokenness? – 14 months later
• The Mysterious Presence
• “If I could just be one . . .”
• The Grace that Goes Before

The Pentecost (liturgical red) party is over.

Now is the extraordinary span of Ordinary Time (liturgical green). That long green run into discipleship. Or at least it should be.

But I’m still stuck on the day after Easter, staring at an empty tomb.

After the hoopla and thrill of knowing the One is alive, I’m thinking on the meaning of an empty tomb.

Poor thing, that tomb. Didn’t even get to keep it’s quarry but a few days. Due to the 100 or so pounds of spices Joseph of Arimethea hooked up, there wasn’t even a smell of decay before the tomb’s resident hopped up and out.

A vessel barely used for it’s purpose, that tomb. And now it sits there useless. Not to be thought of much again until the next Triduum. And even then it will be but a passing flash in the pan … The earth will quake, the stone will roll back, and the pitiful tomb will once again sit empty.

I guess I can’t stop thinking of this tomb because I can so relate to it’s plight.

A symbol of the greatest triumph ever that now sits idle, unthought of, unused. Perhaps hoping to be useful again next spring.

It’s already gone through the only 3 phases it has: prepared, used, emptied.  Why does that emptied part last so long?

I’m in “career path” number 3.

First there was the starving artist.  The world of professional theatre prepared me in so many ways (said only retrospectively) for the next phase.

Second, there was the preacher / pastor.  I really felt I was being used by God to do some good things in the reconciling of creation.

Now, I’m a high school English and literature teacher.  It seems that all my preparation and usefulness (not to mention all my pride) has been emptied.

I sit devoid of all that was before, hoping to be prepped and used again.

*Sidenote: Granted, I fully believe I’m accomplishing something for the greater good.  I was amazed at the thanks I received from my seniors as they graduated, having only been with them for four months.  Who knows what may come of those young lives?*

As a younger man, I never wanted to sit empty.  I wanted to prepare for something.  I wanted to be thought of as useful.  Now, an older man (though still young, I think), I’m not minding the emptiness.

Perhaps, it is only emptiness that will allow me to be useful once again.  Perhaps, the emptiness is a preparation of sorts.

Perhaps Life will once more come to this symbol of Death.

As I’m writing this, I received a text from one of my very few close friends.  He reminded me of a dream we shared some time ago.  A dream we could both say we had been prepared to envision.  A dream that is still a dream.  Still waiting on the usefulness part, I guess.

What do you with a dream when you are simply sitting empty and waiting?

Poor tomb, may your dream be realized.

Related Posts:

• Monday Morning Look Ahead
• Ash Wednesday Prayer
• “We are such stuff / As dreams are made on”
• My Father’s Work
• The Mysterious Presence

During previous Lents, I have been able to move beyond repentence to cherishing the simple truth of God’s presence. This year, however, I have stayed in confession mode … and I haven’t tried to move beyond it. But this has been ok.

As broken as I know I am — as flawed, as helpless, as ineffective, as uninspired, as sinful, as ugly, as so much the antithesis of Jesus of Nazareth –, I have not been entirely crushed and dejected.

Oddly, I have gained more peace knowing that I am but a poor sinner.

Why? Perhaps this is because I know I can’t go lower. But in fact, I can; and I have. Perhaps this is due to my complete dependence on grace. But in fact, I know grace without reponse is no grace at all.

No. It seems I have peace because I am basking in the reality that God is the antonym of me. Knowing who and what defines all that I am not, brings a calmness to my search for identity. Consequently, I can fully acknowledge who and what I am without fear … for I know what I am being shaped into.

My telos is not mine alone. I am part of all the creation that is being reconciled. While at peace with what I am, I can live peacefully as I move, ever so slowly, toward that which I will be.

So, my Lenten confession: I am the chiefest of all sinners and the antithesis of all that is God. But this does not define me. Rather, I am defined by that which I will be; in whose image I (and you) were created; under whose will I have only begun to bend.

Clinging to the hope who is the ending of my story.

Related Posts:

• A Lenten Exercise: Analyzing Exile – Part 2
• To Cry Out OR To Trust?
• A Lenten Exercise: Analyzing Exile – Conclusion
• Quotes for the Incarnational Journey
• Monday Morning Look Ahead

Christ, as a light
illumine and guide me.
Christ, as a shield
overshadow me.
Christ under me;
Christ over me;
Christ beside me
on my left and my right.
This day be within and without me,
lowly and meek, yet all-powerful.
Be in the heart of each to whom I speak;
in the mouth of each who speaks unto me.
This day be within and without me,
lowly and meek, yet all-powerful.
Christ as a light;
Christ as a shield;
Christ beside me
on my left and my right.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

AMEN.

Related Posts:

• Daily Prayer: Monday, January 7, 2008
• Prayer for the Week
• Lectionary Prayer for the Coming Week
• The Mysterious Presence
• Prayer for the Week

You see, he was under the assumption that I had to be a pastor to preach. And since I resigned from the typical pastorate last autumn, I must not be preaching anymore.

I do miss the whole string of actions that is typically considered preaching: prayer, study, listening, creating, speaking. I miss the interaction with a group of listeners/participants. I do occasionally get this opportunity. That’s about all I miss from pastoring.

Especially since I’ve been able to preach everyday in my new role as a shelter manager.

The “sermons” I’ve preached while elbow deep in some dark earth while planting flowers around the building, or while propping up a very intoxicated resident, or while sharing a meal with someone who hasn’t eaten anything for 24 hours, or while listening to a resident friend as he smokes and reminisces about his life choices … these are more profound, more real, than anything I pontificated on in a typical sermon.

Every single day I preach with the way I live my life.  And while I’m usually very particular about the preachers I would go sit down and listen to, the sermons that are forced upon me each day but those I rub shoulders with are spectacular.

What I’m experiencing these days helps me understand why Jesus rarely preached in the temple or synagogue.  And the few times he did, somebody got run out with violence: either him or those corrupting the house of prayer.

Rather, Jesus chose to preach while living life.  Occasionally he would sit in a boat, or on a hillside and teach.  But usually this preaching was in the context of his actions: either feeding people or meeting their physical shortcomings with healing and forgiveness.

Jesus’ most startling and wonderful sermons came while he was walking with his friends through fields or from town to town.  Or while sitting at a well where women came to draw water.  Or while creating some art in the dirt.  Or while drinking and eating with societal rejects.

The imposed pressures and expectations of a “preacher’ that come from the church are so off-base with what Jesus actually did.

And, at least for me, I’ve heard the call to “go and do likewise.”

——

Brian Niece
www.brianniece.com
If you enjoyed this post, get free updates by email or RSS.Related Posts:

• Why I’m Serving as a Shelter Manager
• Why I’m Serving as a Shelter Manager – Part 2
• Changes
• Bresee and Rejection
• What Is a Minister? – Part 3

- Henri NouwenRelated Posts:

• Sacrifice of Comfort
• Lifestyle
• “We are such stuff / As dreams are made on”
• Prayer of Humility
• Some Excellent Quotes from Jim Wallis

Tonight has been a doozy of a night at the Shelter.  I’ve been dealing with various issues from over the weekend.  We’re six men over what our capacity really is.  I had to excuse a few guys for showing up drunk.  Dealt with a few resident’s personal issues.

But as the evening wore on, I had some wonderful experiences.

I had a conversation with a resident I’ll call “Brandon.”  Brandon sat in my office and talked to me about how he sensed I was beleaguered.   He asked if I was okay.  We talked about the stresses and pressures of this job.  We talked about some of the things he witnessed me handle tonight.  As I was talking, he said he noticed a gleam in my eye, and he thought I seemed lighter of spirit.

He then said, “You really love this work, don’t you?”

Brandon’s right.  I do.  Even when the stress is great, the joy is greater.

It wasn’t like that in “church work.”  The stress just led to more stress, more discontent from myself and others, more frustration.  The joy was sucked right out of me.  Go figure.

Also tonight, our AA meeting was interesting.  A new resident, I’ll call him “Mitch,” sat in on the meeting.  He said that he wasn’t an alcoholic nor addict, but was looking for answers.

Come to find out, Mitch’s wife died from over-drinking a few months ago.  He’s an unemployed widower looking to make a new start in Brunswick.  He carries a lot of guilt, a lot of hurt, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Wow!

Long story, short … It was incredible to see some of the guys who are admitted addicts / alcoholics so affected by Mitch’s story and life circumstance.  They realized the hurt that their addictions can cause.

I was able to speak with Mitch one-on-one a bit later.  The conversation was about brokenness and how God constantly works to create beauty out of all kinds of brokenness.

Now, I could preach all kinds of great sermons on these theological points (and I have).  But in a parish, the people would absorb it on Sunday then go back out and be the same people they were beforehand.

But here at the Shelter, I’m seeing the sermons lived out, experienced, incarnated.

No wonder there is joy in this!

As a dear friend and fellow sojourner commented to me today, this is “prioritizing the poor over the party.”  It may be heresy, as my friend suggested.  So be it.  I’ll be a heretic and obedient in the way of Christ any day, over against being a well-respected clergyman who rarely sees Jesus at the party.

——

Brian Niece
www.brianniece.com
If you enjoyed this post, get free updates by email or RSS.Related Posts:

• Why I’m Serving as a Shelter Manager
• Why Preaching Has Been Too Narrowly Defined
• Changes
• We Need Culture Change in the Church
• Why, Why, Why?

It’s encouraging to know there are some Ezekiels, Isaiahs, and Jeremiahs out there.

Imagine how lonely the original prophets must have been. They were blessed because everyone spoke evil of them, hated them, derided them for not getting with the system.

But it was a lonely blessing.

I would not be able to sustain this journey in isolation. God’s grace is good. But it’s wonderful when the grace is found in the form of fellow sojourners who understand what you’ve experienced and why you are where you are.

Do you feel like the North American institutional Church (and churches) just isn’t jiving with the Gospel mission of Jesus of Nazareth? Do you wonder if you are alone, insane, jaded, out of touch?

Put your thoughts and feelings out there. Look for those who are allowing the organic grace of God to permeate their lives. Be willing to discover, and be discovered by, Christ-followers who are hearing the beat of an old, old drum.

They are out there. We are out here.

So, God, may your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is where you are …

——

Brian Niece
www.brianniece.com
If you enjoyed this post, get free updates by email or RSS.Related Posts:

• Still Detoxing
• A Lenten Exercise: Analyzing Exile – Conclusion
• In the Meantime …
• A Lenten Exercise: Analyzing Exile – Part 4
• Crows, Blackbirds, and a New Resolve

Okay, that may have been a big motivator for any job, but here I am serving as a manager for a shelter and transitional program for the homeless and working poor. I could be employed doing something that has nothing to do with my life mission. Instead, here I am. And I love it. Why?

As way of explaining why I love this ministry, let me share a story.

A resident — I’ll call him “Gus” — was sitting in my office as I administered a breathalyzer test to him. The night before, his reading was .12 (that’s drunk). Two nights before, I had spent 3o minutes with Gus as he cried and grieved over the recent losses in his life. He was making six figures just 5 years ago. He has two teenage children who are currently living with his estranged wife. His wife has repeatedly cheated on him and finally kicked him out, presumably for excessive drinking and all that drinking entails.

The man who just a few years ago was living the so-called American Dream, was now a resident in a homeless shelter.

And I was noticing a trend. He tends to point at the specks of wood in the eyes of others while ignoring the 2×4 in his own eye.

Gus had been trying to ease his emotional pain with strong liquor. He was not getting with the transitional program. And he was lying to me and my staff to cover it up.

I had prayed with him, helped him secure some income, listened as he processed … all the while I noticed he was in denial as to his culpability of the circumstance he found himself in.

Now, he was sitting in my office again and we were having him blow into a breathalyzer (again) to determine just how much he’d had to drink.

Gus said “just a tall boy about 1pm today.” That would mean he might show a .02 on the meter.

Beep, beep goes the machine. And I read a .10. He’s very drunk again.

In my office with me and Gus is one of my staff members at the shelter — I’ll call him Jim.

After we get the results of Gus’s blood alcohol content, I explain to Gus that he can’t stay at the shelter this night. He now has his 3rd strike. We’ll give him some dinner and a blanket, but he has to face the consequences of his actions.

I’m baffled and frustrated. Not only was he showing up drunk, but he had been previously caught with a fifth of vodka IN THE SHELTER. That’s a big “no no.” He was lucky to be here right now.

He repeatedly had told me what a grace the shelter was: “Two hot meals, a warm shower, a clean bed, a caring staff, a safe place to be.” And he was thumbing his nose at the whole process.

As I tried to fathom why he would push his circumstance to this point, Jim spoke up.

“Gus, you can point at a woman, a bottle of alcohol, life circumstances, everyone else, but nothing is going to fill what’s in here”, as he places the palm of his hand on Gus’s chest, indicating the heart. “That’s a God thing, brother.”

You see, Jim is a staff member who was a resident just 3 months ago when I began the job. He’s one of two former residents who I’ve hired as staff. He had gone 7 years in AA, staying sober. Before that, he had lost his first marriage, his kids, his job, his dignity, his self-respect … everything. After 7 years, he took it upon himself to start over. When he began trusting himself, he fell off the wagon again. This time, none of his family threw him a lifeline. They cut him off. So after running for a long time, he ended up in the shelter.

After proving his sobriety and vowing to be changed, I hired him. Jim wakes up every day and asks God to help him stay sober that day. He is a man of great faith. You wouldn’t find Jim’s theological statements in a systematic theology text. But he has placed his entire life into the hands of someone bigger than himself. He now spends time with his daughters. His rebuilding bridges that seemed nothing but ashes a few months before. Jim trusts God to go before him every step of the way. It’s amazing to watch.

And here was Jim in my office talking to Gus. “Gus, I’ve lost it all: women, family, friends, job, dignity, everything. But nothing addresses the pain in the heart except the One who created you. You can’t turn to him until you recognize you have a problem. It’s a God thing, brother.”

Wow! Here was the gospel being played out right in front of me.

In the typical “church world” I wouldn’t be a witness to this. In fact, every day I work at the shelter, I come home with another story of how I’ve witnessed Jesus in the poor and disenfranchised.

The stuff of Jesus I read in the gospels, I’m privileged to experience almost every day! I never experienced this in the “professional ministry.”

Why am I serving as a shelter manager?

Because I was called to preach the gospel, and when necessary to use words. I finally am living and experiencing the Gospel of Jesus Christ on a daily basis.

It’s humbling, wonderful, heart-breaking, intimidating, joyful, and hopeful all at the same time. I witness lives being transformed. I hang out with the kinds of people Jesus was friends with.

Instead of piddling around with buildings, boards, and budgets I get to offer a cup of cold water in Jesus’ name. I get to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, visit the prisoners, and see the captives set free.

Why would I ever go back to “respectable Christian ministry”?

In future posts, I’ll give more examples to explain the “Why?”. Hopefully, you can see why this is wonderful outpouring of God’s grace: that I be allowed to be part of Christ’s work in this way.

——

Brian Niece
www.brianniece.com
If you enjoyed this post, get free updates by email or RSS.Related Posts:

• Why I’m Serving as a Shelter Manager – Part 2
• Why Preaching Has Been Too Narrowly Defined
• Still Detoxing
• Changes
• Bresee and Rejection

What the poor getting poorer looks like:

Can’t help but think of a Dickens’ quote from A Christmas Carol:

Related Posts:

• 3 Things I’ve Learned about Leadership
• Lessons from Tea
• Bresee Vs. Constantine … Not Even Close
• 24-hour Prayer Vigil … Hour 6
• The Legacy of Bresee