I would add, it likely is also a life-long process.

Some days I wish I had taken the blue pill instead of the red one. In the movie The Matrix when Neo reaches for the red pill, Morpheus reminds him “I’m only offering you the truth; nothing more.”

Some days the truth stinks.

It wasn’t so long ago I was on staff at a large, respected church, had closet full of nice clothes, a nice house, nice friends, etc.  But somewhere along the way I got offered the red pill.  Now I”m making just above the poverty level, spending my work time with those below and well-below the poverty level.

The church institution has become unreal to me and my wife.  As has the US American culture.  What is more real, more true, is the reality of the One who is the Way, Truth, and Life.

But this more real way is indeed painful.

Though I’ve never detoxed from street drugs, I spend lots of time with those who have or are presently detoxing.  It’s an ugly process.  Everything your mind fights against, your body wants to embrace.  It truly feels like life and death.

The financial comfort, the good social standing, the good standing within the institutional church … all these things I know are shams.  I know it in my head.  I know it like the deepest of convictions.  But the rest of me struggles with a sense of loss for these things.

The majority of the “respectable” folks consider me and my wife wacky, mistaken, bitter, or just flat out wrong.  Those opinions are painful.

A large portion of my clergy peers don’t understand why I left “real ministry,” nor do they see their own complicity with the negatives of institutionalism.  Their limited understanding and denial is painful.

Long time friends and even some family occasionally just don’t get us.  Believe me, that’s painful.

I realize that when Jesus declared that those who follow him must leave behind family, friends, and attachment to institutions and culture, he meant it.

Separation from those within the institutional and cultural milieu is not fun.  It’s easier when there are sojourners to dialogue with.

And it does feel like a matter of life and death.  Every day part of me dies.  And only through hope do I trust it is a necessary part of my life I must lose so that I might be saved.

I guess this post comes from a place of loneliness.  A loneliness I share with Jeremiah and the prophets, Jesus the Nazarene, and even Neo and crew.

Do you share it too?  Are you detoxing from institution and culture?  Is it painful?

–

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
• We Need Culture Change in the Church
• While in Exile …
• Why Preaching Has Been Too Narrowly Defined

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

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
• Why, Why, Why?
• We Need Culture Change in the Church

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

I recently resigned as Pastor of Grace Community Church of the Nazarene in Brunswick, GA. My wife, Heather, and I have been seeking God’s will for some time as we have sensed that we have accomplished our call in Brunswick. God has certainly been preparing us for something very different.

After many months of prayer, listening, and conversation with some peers, we will soon be moving to the Atlanta area. Our home in Brunswick is on the market (you can point interested parties here. Heather is working as a PA three days a week. I’m currently unemployed, but seeking a job in Brunswick until our home sells.  Then, it’s off to Atlanta!

Why Atlanta you ask? We, along with another family are moving into the Atlanta area to serve as Resident Missionaries to Atlanta. We have had much support from a local church outside the 285  perimeter. They see what we are doing as an extension of their local church and the Church universal.

So what are we doing? Is it a church plant? No. Is it a compassionate ministry center? No. Well, what is it?

We are calling it the Synergy Project. We intend to move inside the 285 perimeter of Atlanta, get “regular” jobs, live like Jesus with our neighbors and community, serve our neighborhood compassionately, practice hospitality and fellowship in our home, make disciples through everyday relationships, and see what God does.

Essentially, we are going to pin our entire existence on being the church.

In this centennial year of the Church of the Nazarene, we are very inspired by Phineas Bresee and his companions, who moved into an urban center and lived life with the poor and poor in spirit. We’re doing essentially the same thing.

More details to come soon. You can keep up with everything at www.SynergyProject.cc.

We would ask your prayer. Both families need to sell our homes. We need to find jobs with benefits in Atlanta. We need our kids to enjoy, rather than fear, the transition. We need wisdom and discernment to see where Christ is already at work, and the courage to join him.

This is a very organic, unstructured, missional project we have begun. Jesus is our leader. We are living on faith and prayer.

SO TELL ME SOMETHING:
Want to be involved in the Synergy Project?

——

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

• Bresee and Rejection
• Relational Giving
• Daily LifeStream for 2008-10-12
• The Legacy of Bresee
• Bresee Vs. Constantine … Not Even Close

I’m honing in more on the similarities between my plight and that of my spiritual grandfather, Phineas Bresee.

Bresee was rejected by the establishment of his tribe.  His rejection culminated in the formation of a new tribe about 10 years later.

He was rejected because he wanted a Christian life that was not just about words.  Bresee not only believed that ministry to the urban poor was important, he intentionally stood with the poor in ruined communities. He and those around him defended the poor, advocated against the injustices that fueled poverty, and developed spaces of belonging and access in which the poor were, not only welcome, but at home.

Bresee and the early Nazarenes challenged social injustices.  They urged their church familiy to move from merely preaching a holiness of heart to expressing holiness of life–in the physical, ordinary, and mundane–as solidarity with the disenfranchised. This is in the direct line of my spiritual great-grandfather, John Wesley.

Because of the poor, Bresee called for radical simplicity of church facilities, not only because ostentatious styles were off-putting for the poor, but the sheer cost of unnecessary embellishments were poor stewardship of resources of God’s people. Tithes and offerings should be used to serve the poor, not build impressive structures. Likewise, words, dress, and lifestyle were to be simple … because of the implications for the poor.

Bresee once wrote:

The first miracle after the baptism of the Holy (Spirit) was wrought upon a beggar. It means that the first service of a Holy (Spirit)-baptized church is to the poor; that its ministry is to those who are lowest down; that its gifts are for those who need them the most. As the Spirit was upon Jesus to preach the gospel to the poor, so His Spirit is upon His servants for the same purpose.

And so Bresee was rejected by his church establishment for challenging Christians to live like Jesus.  He was rejected for being Jesus to the disenfranchised and seeing Jesus in them.  He was rejected for not becoming like the ones who already called themselves Christians.  He was rejected for suggesting church resources should be used for something other than maintaining an institution, a building, an flawed paradigm.  He was rejected for moving beyond a stale, useless, faith.

Bresee was rejected, just as Jesus was.  His primary persecutors were the most “religious” people of his day … as were Bresee’s.

So when I celebrate a centennial marker next week, I’m not celebrating the dawn of yet another schism in the Church universal.  I’m not celebrating the founding of a particular tribe in which I happen to be an ordained elder.  I’m not celebrating the misguided and failed ways we have exercised the inheritance of our spiritual ancestors.

Instead, I’ll be celebrating a wonderful idea made tangible: preaching the gospel to the poor in word and deed.

SO TELL ME SOMETHING:
Can you identify with the plight of Bresee?

——

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

• The Legacy of Bresee
• Changes
• Bresee Vs. Constantine … Not Even Close
• Why Preaching Has Been Too Narrowly Defined
• What Is a Minister? – Part 3