A Good Story: ‘I’m Going to Kill You’ [Cross-Post]

A Good Story: ‘I’m Going to Kill You’

I often tell people not to ask me for statistics because in this work all the statistics are bad. Ask me for stories instead, I say, because even in the worst of times I always have a good story. Whether it is one of my own or comes from someone else doesn’t really matter to me anymore. What matters is that it rings true. Like this one I picked up on a visit to Philadelphia last week, which was first told to psychologist Jack Kornfield by the director of a nearby rehabilitation program for violent juvenile offenders:

One 14-year-old boy in the program had shot and killed an innocent teenager to prove himself to his gang. At the trial, the victim’s mother sat impassively silent until the end, when the youth was convicted of the killing. After the verdict was announced, she stood up slowly and stared directly at him and stated, “I’m going to kill you.” Then the youth was taken away to serve several years in the juvenile facility.

After the first half-year the mother of the slain child went to visit his killer. He had been living on the streets before the killing, and she was the only visitor (in jail) he’d had. For a time they talked, and when she left she gave him some money for cigarettes. Then she started step-by-step to visit him more regularly, bringing food and small gifts.

Near the end of his three-year sentence, she asked him what he would be doing when he got out. He was confused and very uncertain, so she offered to help set him up with a job at a friend’s company. Then she inquired about where he would live, and since he had no family to return to, she offered him temporary use of the spare room in her home. For eight months he lived there, ate her food, and worked at the job.

Then one evening she called him into the living room to talk. She sat down opposite him and waited. Then she started, “Do you remember in the courtroom when I said I was going to kill you?” “I sure do,” he replied. “I’ll never forget that moment.” “Well, I did it,” she went on. “I did not want the boy who could kill my son for no reason to remain alive on this earth. I wanted him to die. That’s why I started to visit you and bring you things. That’s why I got you the job and let you live here in my house. That’s how I set about changing you. And that old boy, he’s gone. So now I want to ask you, since my son is gone, and that killer is gone, if you’ll stay here. I’ve got room and I’d like to adopt you if you let me.” And she became the mother he never had.

Honestly, for a man like me, in a place like this, a story like that is more precious than any amount of money or any amount of praise.

Lately I’ve been asked how long I can relate to such badly broken people in this particular way, and the truth is that I don’t know. However long it is, I think, will be determined less by the number of healed lives I see, and more by my ability to sense the depth of the compassion and forgiveness that is trying to heal them. Today, with that good story in my heart, it feels like I may last a while longer than it felt like before I heard it. I hope the same is true of you.

–
Bart Campolo is a veteran urban minister and activist who speaks and writes about grace, faith, loving relationships and social justice. Bart is the leader of The Walnut Hills Fellowship, a local ministry in inner city Cincinnati.

How Do We Take Lent Beyond Chocolate and Caffeine? [Cross-Post]

A cross-post from:


How Do We Take Lent Beyond Chocolate and Caffeine?

by Tracey Bianchi 02-23-2011

Lent. It’s an odd word, not exactly one that shows up in the vernacular of our everyday.

“Hey, how’s it going?”
“Good, just coming up with a plan for Lent. How are you?”

Definitely not the material for chatter with co-workers or neighbors.

Those of us who are church-goers or who were raised in liturgical traditions are familiar with the concept, even though the word rarely shows up in our culture. Lent is a 40-day period that marks the journey from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday. After the chaos of Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday, millions of faithful Catholics and Protestants begin a six-week time of reflection and renewal that is most typically marked by “giving up something.” Things such as no meat on Fridays or fasting on other days.

In the past I’ve used this calendar space to try and shed a few pounds. I’ve tried to give up chocolate or sweets — even caffeine. Maybe if I quite binging on chocolate for Jesus I’d stick to it?

But millions of us are also understandably clueless about the concept and why to bother with it. The word itself simply refers to the lengthening of days, of the coming of spring. Over the centuries we use words like “spring” to explain, well, spring. So Lent has been relegated to this sort of confusing church practice.

But if we demystify Lent a bit, even via this rapid fire blog post, I wonder if we all might consider taking a Lenten journey alongside one another? All religious tradition and confusion aside, Lent is simply an opportunity to reflect on that which weighs us down and hinders us. It is a time to shed negative ideas, habits, and desires that keep us from living as our best for God and one another. The idea is that if we empty ourselves, slow down a bit, and reflect honestly on the chaos of life, we will find there are places where we can improve — maybe cutting the gossip, lowering the yelling at home, or yes, even cutting out the caffeine if it makes us a jumpy spastic mess.

This year, the high point of Lent (Good Friday) lands on the same day as Earth Day (April 22) — a  gorgeous coincidence. What if this year we all considered how a few smarter ecological moves could take us to six weeks of improving our lives and the lives of those around us? What if one little eco-idea a week transformed you into a smarter citizen of this planet come April? What if you challenged your family to grab reusable containers for lunch or to walk to school, to finally remember those tote bags? Or even deeper, what if you considered a spending freeze for a week, or two, or six? Considered how your resources can improve the lives of others?

Tracey Bianchi blogs about finding a saner, greener life from the heart of the Chicago suburbs. She wrote Green Mama: The Guilt-Free Guide to Helping You and Your Kids Save the Planet(Zondervan 2009) and blogs at traceybianchi.com.

Musing about the space between - FROM THE CCBLOGS NETWORK [Cross-Post]

FROM THE CCBLOGS NETWORK

Musing about the space between

Feb 24, 2011 by Tripp Hudgins

There is a region between home and the forbidden, states a friend and colleague of mine. It's not a border in the NRSV, but a region, an actual space that Jesus goes to. It's where the unwanted are.

Up till this point in the Gospel, Jesus seems to be telling people to be quiet. "Don't tell anyone that I've done this," he seems to say. Then he goes to the region between the place we think of as home and the place we think of as forbidden because the unholy is there and, well, who does he find? People in need of a priest.

So, there's a healing and Jesus tells them to go tell the priests. Then this Samaritan turns to Jesus and thanks him. Jesus says to this person, "It's not me. It's you. It was in you all along."

I love this story. I love that Jesus goes to those in between places and does not say "I have come to bring something you don't have!" He says "Look! It's here, too." Then he sends these same people to the religious institution...not so that they might be indoctrinated. Jesus is sneakier than that. He does it to push the institutions around. The institutions created this in between place, this false place with no priest, no temple, and no religion. Let's shake them loose of this insanity and send them the faithful whom they have shunned...deemed ontologically unclean somehow.

At our regional clergy retreat we spoke of this passage. We shared our various insights and this one came to me during the reflection time. It articulates so clearly my own sense of priestly vocation. I'm not called to go and "make Christians." No. I'm not called to tell the un/non/post-Christian that they are unworthy and must change. No. I am called to stand in that in between place that persists and say to the Church "Over here! God is over here!"

Originally posted at Anglobaptist.