I was about to preach at an evening service in a small church in a remote village in rural Honduras. I could barely see my notes, because the church was lit by only a few candles – all the congregation could afford, after their village was devastated by Hurricane Mitch a year earlier. Without wishing to be too graphic, the truth is that I was also fighting the worst case of diarrhea of my life! To top it off, I had just finished a bitter argument with one of my students, who refused to eat the food offered to us – because (very understandably) he didn’t want to end up getting sick like me.

In short, I was miserable! So I said to my friend and translator, “Miguel, I’m not sure I have a good message for these people tonight. So if I’m preaching badly, you just go ahead and say whatever you want to say.” Without missing a beat, Miguel responded, “Jeff, that’s what I always do when you preach.”

What power a translator has! The Italians have a saying, “traduttore traditore” – “the translator is a traitor.” I don’t know about that, but I do know that a translator has the potential to dramatically alter the meaning of the words she is using.

With that in mind, translating the words of the Bible must be a dangerous undertaking! I was thinking about the danger of translating today, after reading a comment about the book of Matthew, in David Bosch’s masterful book, “Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission.” Bosch focuses our attention on one of Matthew’s favorite Greek words “dikaiosyne,” which shows up in some of Jesus’ most famous sayings. For example, “…seek first the kingdom of God and his dikaiosyne, and all these things will be added to you.” (6:33)

According to Bosch, dikaiosyne can be translated as righteousness (a distinctly religious concept, suggesting a spiritual/moral quality to which we can aspire and receive from God), justification (God’s merciful act of declaring us just), or justice (our right conduct toward others, and especially those who are oppressed). All three concepts are contained in the one word, dikaiosyne. What a rich word it is!

I’m not sure what happens when the Bible gets translated from the original languages into Swahili, Chinese or Spanish. But almost always, the English translators render dikaiosyne as righteousness. This would lead English readers of scripture to conclude that Jesus was concerned chiefly with personal piety, putting narrowly “spiritual” matters before concerns of justice for the oppressed of this world. My guess is that this tendency goes all the way back to the King James version in the early 17th century: After all, it’s not hard to see why the king would not want his official Bible to portray Jesus emphasizing justice as the defining mark of God’s kingdom. But righteousness, proper moral behavior: What king wouldn’t want his subjects to make this the focus of their religion?

But what happens if you translate dikaiosyne as “justice?” Suddenly, we have Jesus telling us that a right response to the needs of the oppressed lies at the heart of God’s kingdom (Matthew 6:33). Those who “hunger and thirst for justice” are the ones God will satisfy. (5:6) Now we hear Jesus insisting that his disciples’ commitment to justice surpass that of the scribes and Pharisees. (5:20) Indeed, the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who are persecuted precisely because of their commitment to working for justice! (5:10) It certainly puts a different spin on following Christ for those of us who live and serve in high-risk communities!

I thought of this passage last month, when my friend Alfred Oyango hosted a small group of friends at his church in Kawangware, one of Nairobi’s many teeming slum communities. Harvest Bible Baptist Church meets in a small classroom made of corrugated tin, and dreams about how to reach and serve their very poor community. After talking about Christian community development and the importance of holistic ministry responding to the felt-needs of the poor – including their need for justice – our friend Sheth (from Kibera) made the observation that caring for the poor is difficult when the political and economic “powers that be” conspire to prevent them from making even modest gains in their standard of living. “How do we as the church speak to those powers, even while doing our ministry within the communities to which we are called?” Sheth asked. It is a very important question.

Perhaps a modest starting point could be found in our approach to practicing dikaiosyne, to seeking it and the kingdom of God above all else: If we will allow our traditional understanding of the word to be modified (not replaced, but modified; for all three senses of the word are necessary for us to fully understand it), such that we can hear Jesus telling us that the thing we must seek above all else, the essence of the kingdom, the thing that will bring both ultimate satisfaction and persecution, is God’s justice-righteousness-justification – perhaps this would be one small step toward understanding how we can build holistic ministries that…
…share the wonderful news of God’s justification
…teach people to live “upright, godly lives in this present age” (Titus 2:11-14)
…actively work for justice on behalf of the poor and oppressed
…confront the “powers that be” when they stubbornly refuse to let people and communities flourish under their leadership.

Like King James of old, we all prefer to “translate” the words of scripture into meanings that serve our own purposes. But like my Honduran friend Miguel, the Holy Spirit will continue to re-translate our words back into his perfect message. It is our confidence in the Holy Translator that gives us the courage to speak the words of scripture, to seek first the Kingdom of God and his dikaiosyne in Kibera, Kawangware, Mathare, Dagoretti… and Denver!

I've caught myself not wanting to update because I haven't had anything profound to say. I've also been procrastinating because it seems like there is so much to tell. So I decided to just share some of the stories I'm picking up on as I learn to love these gutter punks, oogles, and "disposable" members of Denver.

The names and images in these stories have been changed to protect the anonimity of the people in this post.

Gina is pregnant with her 3rd child by a 3rd guy. Her first 2 kids were taken away by social services. She is worried and scared because she has a minimum wage job at a fastfood restaurant, and this child's father is in jail for over a year. She is struggling because she has gotten off the streets and feels like she's making progress. "You take one step forward and the Sh*t starts happening to you! I can't take it." Desperate words from a girl in desperate need of a father.

Tracy, a single mom with a 5 year old son needs money so she can divorce her son's father. She wants to divorce her first husband so she can marry Dale who is in jail for a year. She thinks he will take care of her and her son. She thinks he'll treat her like a queen or at least like a friend. Why is he in jail? Because he beat Tracy! She desperately wants to marry him even though he is a felon, drug user, and abusive man. During our conversation I found out Dale is bipolar and ADD.

It's hard for me to tell you about this next friend. His name is James. He is a meth user and is being devoured by this demon. James is a Christian. Yes, I believe that you can be a Christian and addicted to meth. I truly believe that a big reason James is using meth is because he has the potential to be dangerous to satan, and the longer satan can keep James tangled in this sin the more chance satan has of killing this kid. James is smart. He has a generous heart and a willingness to help others. He also has a really good knowledge of the Bible. Those are the facts. Bottom line...James' troubles are spiritual in nature. The battle is so thick and obvious that it scares me when I'm near him. James is not possessed, but satan is warring for his heart. I feel completely ill-equipped to seriously battle for him. I pray for him, but my little prayers feel like I'm bringing a slingshot to the battle in Iraq. James is on the edge and satan is pulling him over and only a few are trying to hold him up. This young man is in need of protection.

Then there is Diesel. Diesel hung himself last week in jail because he couldn't stand the thought of being there again. He was in jail for beating his wife who is in a wheel chair. She turned him in. Not only has he ended his life, a fact that makes us all sad, but he has left his wife with the guilt of knowing that she put him in jail. I don't know for sure, but it seems like he got the last blow in the consistent abuse of his wife. Diesel was a huge meth dealer and a regular among our friends on the street. He was a young man in need of peace and healing.

I can tell you about dozens of kids and their lives, even in the short time I've been on the streets. Their stories are of abuse, anger, addiction, mental illness, arrests, harassment, drug induced paranoia, hopelessness, and despair. I won't share them all in this post, because we might become depressed.

http://www.drybonesdenver.org/

Over the course of my life, many people have asked me this question. I honestly cannot understand what they see as being so radical. It seems to me that what I do is very simple, and really the only way I know how to live for God. Thinking about the why however leads me to my parents. I guess it was when my mom and dad came up with this crazy family idea where we would prepare a meal, then all go downtown and serve it to the homeless young people on the streets.

Over the years as I grew I watched as these young people we served would thank my parents, and more importantly, us kids. They would always love to see what little costume my baby sister was wearing, which I think it made them so happy to see her smile. I would serve the bread or whatever side dish was made, but mainly I think I did a lot of learning thoughout those times.

I learned radical service is only a perception from the outside. I learned that loving people and just being real to everyone is all it takes. *That is why today I …

*This story is still a work in progress as it reflects the life of one of Dry Bones most faithful families. The parents and their three kids have cooked and served several hundred meals. I have seen these warrior kids grow and know that one day they will each finish the “why today I " story. I want to ask you, how have you positioned yourself or your kids for God’s radical service, then try to fill in the blanks for yourself, and others.

http://www.drybonesdenver.org/

I am constantly asking myself the question…Am I a servant, or a friend? Earlier this evening a resident from Joshua Station, the residential transitional housing facility for homeless families, called my wife in an excited state and said, “I’m moving close to you!” As my wife talked to her and shared in the excitement of a new friend moving into our neighborhood, I thought about the environment we work in where the question of servanthood and friendship lie in delicate balance for us.

On the one hand, we serve a population of impoverished adults in transition from homelessness to housing while on the other hand the line between professional and clientele are often blurred due to our love for their families, but more due to our shared need for love and support in this life.

Dr. Lupton points out that for Christ in His last hour, it was more important that we know “What the master is doing” as friends…where the relationship is forever marked by friendship rather than temporarily impacted by servanthood.

I am uncertain the final implications of such a gesture for us as humans to the ever living diving human in Christ, but for those of us who remain in Him, the implications of this are dire to those whom we serve, or better yet, befriend. As mentioned earlier, one of the residents of Joshua Station is moving in our neighborhood, and we will befriend her.

Yesterday my wife allowed the unwanted daughter of a certain family to watch our children as she befriended our family. Everyday fatherless children from our neighborhood befriend our kids, and we take them to t-ball games while their parents remain absent. This is not a testimony to our goodness, but our feeble attempts to incorporate what Christ said in his last hours, “No longer do I call you servants for the servant does not know what the master is doing. I call you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father, I have made known to you.”

My call to all of us…Where do we invite those whom we serve into friendship, or do we keep them at bay as simply those whom we serve? I am not free from this and I am more inclined to keep them all at bay. This stems from an internal desire to feel different than “they”…but truth is, “we” are all the same. Aside from the similar fact that Christ shed His blood for us all, as human beings we linger in the frailty of our common existence. And that is enough to force me to desire as many friends as I can get.

I do not think there has ever been a prayer over a chicken nugget dinner like the one I heard today.

Ever so often I am able to spend extended periods of time with just one of our many street kids. We will usually walk a lot while we talk. The setting is the same most times where we circle the two mile Sixteenth Street Mall route. As I think about it now, I will never cease to be amazed at how the hundreds of other people seem to disappear all around us as we walk and talk.

During one such time my friend and I talked at length about how God had created all things, including relationships. I told the story of Adam’s first look at Eve and how he went crazy over the perfection he saw in her. Our conversation might have been quite humorous on the street so I am glad that all the other people disappeared.

However, the truth about his dilemma appears as he talks about his true substitute; the only true and faithful companion he has even known, cocaine. It is this desire he cannot give up until he finds "the one" for him. As we talked he realized how many times he had gone after relationships just hoping to find what he missed, and within them he is always trying to fix everything. Eventually he finds that he cannot even be without them for even one minute, since he fear they will leave and abandon him. The one thing he desires then, he says, is the one thing he always destroys...relationships.

As we talked I spoke about how God also desires relationships and even modeled His relationship with His people as a marriage. We talked about desiring a relationship the way God wants it to be, and compared that to his understanding of what a relationship was. I know our afternoon was one that helped me desire my marriage to be stronger and I hope it helped my friend.

It was after all this walking and talking that he asks if we could get some food and knowing my friend’s favorite is the number nine combo at Mc Donald’s, we went there. As we sat to eat he asks if he could pray. I do not think there has ever been a prayer over a chicken nugget dinner like the one I heard this day.

“Father thank you for today, and for this food you have given us. God, please give me the desire to quit smoking. Please give me the desire to quit marijuana. Please give me the desire to stop using cocaine. God I need you. Please forgive me of my past and present sins. I want people to not see the person I used to be. God please protect my friends Robbie, Matt and Nikki as they are exposed to evil each day, please guard them. God help me find the person you want me to have. In you name, amen.”

I sat there with a smile on my face hoping that all the people around us had reappeared to hear that prayer. Maybe today would be a good day for you to take a friend on a walk. Please be ready for God to go with you and have a few bucks for McDonald’s.

http://www.drybonesdenver.org/

“Wow, I can see!” These are the words that rang from her mouth when she put on her new pair of glasses.

Carol had no idea just how bad her vision was until she experienced the change in eyesight with the use of her new glasses. As we walked all the way back to her *squat she could not stop commenting on how incredible it was to be able to read the words on buildings, billboards, street signs, and much more. Carol was indeed thankful, not only for the glasses but, as she said, “For the whole Dry Bones team for caring so much about her.”

Have you ever read a scripture and thought you knew the meaning only to have God reveal an even deeper meaning after the on the one hundred and first time? In an instant all the pieces fit and we begin to see. When Jesus healed the blind I believe His main message was about seeing with our hearts.

My prayer is that as we seek to connect with these kids, and that God will use us to reveal His truth to them. I hope that they will realize through our pursuit of them, that it is really God who longs for them. That He is pursuing a personal relationship with each and every one of them. We pray for hearts to see the reality of God’s love for them.

“. . . one thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see." John 9:25

*A squat is the street location where our homeless kids sleeps at night, or more simply put...it is their bedroom (picture above).

http://www.drybonesdenver.org/

May 1st 2006 marked the first time I ever participated in any kind of rally, and I have decided to share with you some photos from the event. I took my daughters that day, and it turned out to be a very special day for us as we learned more about our heritage, our rights, and our struggle to find our identity.

I'll say a few things on each image to let you know the story.

Here are my three daughters. From left to right, DeJae (age 10), Angel (age 9), and Myah (age 8). This is where we prayed and we could see over the sea of people, an estimated peaceful rally of over 75,000 people.

Here is my daugher, who is actually my step-daughter, Angel. This was an extra special day for her because her step-mother and half sister have been deported and are trying to find their way back to the states. The entire day she was focused on her sister and said all throughout the day, "I just want to see my sister."

Here is my eldest daughter, DeJae. She was thrilled to be there and was overwhelmed by how many people were at the rally. She was interviewed, as was I, by the Rocky Mountain News (a local paper-link below) and was quoted as saying, "Mexicans are people just like us." She learned a lot that day about what it meant to be torn between being proud for her heritage as a Mexican, while also wrestling to identify with being an American.

Here is my youngest daughter, Myah. She seemed to have the hardest time with the purpose of the rally, and the idea of the immigration issues that were the topic of the day. Her question was, "Why do they want to send us back to Mexico? Don't they want us here?" This was a day that she really appreciated the story of her grandparents, and she reflected on our trip last summer to Mexico where we visited our family.

Here I am with my daughters at the steps of the capitol where directly behind us the speeches were being held. We made our way to the top and prayed for our families, our people, and our city. I was particularly torn this day because I wanted my daughters to understand the emotion behind this debate. As a Chicano, and a son of Mexican immigrants, I have felt extremely challenged my whole life to assimilate into American culture while holding on to my heritage as a Mexican.

This by far was the most powerful picture of the day for me. I wonder how many people feel like this issue is truly about respecting life...perhaps that is the biggest challenge.

Please click on this link for the audio slide show presentation by the Rocky Mountain News that was done on our family while we were at the march on May 1st, 2006. You'll have to open the link, click on Begin Presentation, then click on the Menu, and select the slide show under the tab labeled Speer Blvd & I25 and let it rip!

Like Levi, I ditched last Monday… well, actually just a long lunch hour. I’m not really much of a rally person these days, even when it comes to things I feel passionate about—like immigration reform. But I put on a white shirt, as directed by the “A Day Without Immigrants” organizers. Never mind that it said “Canada” on the front… it was my nicest white t-shirt even if it was from across the wrong border. Within a few blocks of my office I was bustling along with 75,000 people chanting “Si, se puede” (“Yes, we can”).

Twenty years ago I was a big rally person, or at least I tried to be. My wife and I were in the streets of Chicago many weekends with a movement protesting an issue of injustice we felt strongly about. I have good memories of those events, and of a time in my life when I was awakening to God’s heart for justice for the oppressed. It set a new course for our lives that is still unfolding these many years later.

But I remember one moment during a demonstration which made me uneasy, and at rallies ever since, I’ve felt a little like a guy with a Canada shirt trying to chant “Si, se puede” and wondering if my grammar’s right.

A mass rally such as “A Day Without Immigrants” can only succeed by reducing complex issues to simplistic slogans, and cobbling together tentative alliances. That’s tough on an analytical person like me who tries to look at all sides and carve out a nuanced position. It’s also tough on an idealistic person like me, who not only wants a position to atop the moral high ground, but wants to climb there only by means as pure as the driven snow. Who knows what kind of rabble is afoot in a crowd singing “We Shall Overcome” or chanting “Si, se puede”?

The pragmatist in me is also hardly naïve about the nature of political and economic power. A few lobbyists in a cloakroom may hold more sway over immigration policy than tens of thousands of working-class people in the streets, and “a day without immigrants” won’t even register a blip on the economic charts.

So, what was I, a white guy in a Canada shirt with nuanced positions and a weakness for weary cynicism, doing at the Capitol last week with 75,000 chanting people?

First, little reasons: I was curious. I had a new camera to try out. I dig crowds.

Bigger reasons: my journey after my heady days of political activism, which has been in no small part a spiritual journey, has been one of discovery that righteousness and justice (the same New Testament Greek word, by the way) is in fact much more of a messy process than a pure position. If I marched 20 years ago out of a sense of moral purity, I marched last week out of a sense that it might just be worthwhile to wade exuberantly through the moral muck, casting my lot with people who I would rather embrace as neighbors than exclude as aliens.

Biggest reason: That’s it, the exuberant part. Enough with the angst, the analysis, the nuance. (Sure, I’ll get to policy questions in another post, or not.) Wow, what a day in Denver! Clear blue Colorado sky, sunshine gleaming off the gold dome. Whole families—great big extended immigrant families, with grandmas pushing strollers and teenagers holding toddlers. Young men leading cheers, young women waving flags. What a day in America! In Belarus, in Nepal, they can’t…not without getting beaten or shot. Here, si se puede, yes we can, and it is a glorious freedom to assemble, to celebrate, to give windy speeches about lofty ideals, to debate our slogans and signs with the other crowd, to enjoy the flavors brought from other lands, and when it’s over, gather the litter in plastic bags and go to our homes.

It's a party I want in on. And, on a gut level, I know I want more people in on it too. Lots more people. If that's taking a side on the immigration issue, I'm taking it--rallies and all. Si, se puede!

We had our first week of T-ball practice with our kids from Joshua Station. It was of course a chaotic event! When I started this team I just wanted the kids to have some fun in an environment that builds confidence. However, it didn’t occur to me that all of our kids rarely have the attention span needed for focusing on sports. This is not just from being children, but stems from having experienced things in their lives that little kids have no business experiencing.

A specific example that haunts me on many levels is a five-year-old little girl who I saw walking aimlessly in the middle of the field. She was supposed to be at a station practicing her throwing. Nonetheless, I invited her over to try batting, and noticed she was distracted. I said to her, “You need to focus on this, sweetie. You need to put your hands here, and here, then look at the ball and swing.”

She turned and looked me in the eye. “Coach, I know, but I can’t focus right now. I can’t stop thinking about my dad. I miss him. Even though I know that when he and my mom used to fight he’d hurt her awfully bad, I still miss him. I just can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t focus.” She continued a little longer, and I was taken aback by her incredible sense of awareness at such a young age. I heard a five-year-old child articulate pain within a broken family the same way I’ve heard a fifteen-year-old articulate pain where divorce was occurring.

Truth is that her father and I are extremely alike. My first marriage ended because, among other reasons, I abused my ex-wife. My little girls were ages one and three and they too saw much in their early years. Things they should have never seen. With the grace of God we are still healing from it all. Slowly for sure, but still healing.

This morning as I parked my car and walked towards our office I saw the same little five-year-old again. Wearing a very nice outfit, she ran to me yelling, “Hi coach! Look at my skirt!” She greeted me with a great big hug and introduced me to her stuffed animal. She mentioned that her new toy also missed her dad, and then she ran back home to her room at Joshua Station.

I’ve been having too many of these experiences lately, where much of the spiritual formation happening for me comes not from the way I see others outside of myself, but as I see others alongside myself. I am starting to see that those I serve are my friends not because I give to them, but because we give to each other.

When you suffer with others out of a shared need, a shared pain, and a shared dysfunction…it promotes a profound sense of love. The kind of love, ironically, flows from things that so many others tell you to eradicate because they hurt so much. But this kind of love hangs on to that pain, for it is this kind of pain that people like us—people from below—need in order for our spirits to be formed into the likeness of Christ. This is the only way to have profound compassion for one another. Otherwise all we have left is contempt because sadly, someone is always the victim, and someone is always the victimizer. Some of us, however, know what it feels like to be both. The challenge is that there is no language for that.

Today I barely hang on and struggle. I do so for I chase the dream in 1 Corinthians 13 where it says, “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

For now, I’ll keep coaching t-ball and try to hang on to the words from the vice-president of the baseball association sponsoring our team as he said, “Look at it this way Sam, it’s just t-ball!”

Having three small children keeps me from being on the streets too much, but I have been blessed with opportunities to serve in my own way. My kids and I attend pool night once or twice a month. We’ve helped collect sleeping bags and blankets to keep our friends warm at night, brought pizza to the park for the Thursday night meal, and we have celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas with some of our street friends. All three of our children love hanging out downtown.

Children don’t have all the pretenses that adults do, and when they look at our friends from the streets they just see a person. They aren’t fearful of weird hair, multiple piercings, or tattoos. The cussing doesn’t throw them
off guard. They love the street kids because we do. They learn by watching the example set for them by their parents. When Benny and I are friendly with a street kid, so are they. When we find a way to bless one of them individually, our kids are there to bless them too. It’s a family thing.

The street kids that we know have been good to my children. Max and Zoe have sat at the park and chatted away with street kids over plates of food.

Zoe has a treasured penny that she received from one of them a few weeks ago. Pete gets excited when he sees Cheeto, our friend who has been off the streets for a while now. I don’t fear for their safety when the street kids are around, and they love the attention. The street kids are even protective of my kids.

It’s important to us that our children learn and live servanthood, and that they try to serve everyone regardless of position, title, or circumstance in life. We will not shelter our children from seeing the needs of the homeless and the poor. How can they be a part of the solution if we do? I see a miracle happen before my eyes when one of my children gives selflessly, and one of the street kids accepts graciously. I’ve seen it the other way around as well, and it makes me want to cry. We’re helping each other. I help provide for their needs, and they help me teach my children about meeting the needs of others. Which is the greater blessing?

http://www.drybonesdenver.org/

As I walk through the recovery process with those kids who are ready to make a change in their lives, my faith grows. I have a deeper understanding of what it means to “turn it over.”

This phrase is used a lot among the Alcoholics Anonymous 12-step goers. The third step of AA says “We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood Him.” Christ-centered 12-step programs’ third step reads, “We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God. Therefore, I urge you brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God - this is your spiritual act of worship.” (Romans 12:1)

Lately, I have been worshipping and praising God often while I walk with my friend through her recovery process. She is ready. She desires relationship with God. She is trying her best every day to do the right thing as she leaves the street life and continues in her secular rehabilitation program. She then looks forward to the time she chooses to spend around other Christians at the 12-step, Christ centered program she and I go to at the end of each week.

There have been so many times that I was tempted to try and fix my friend. This is out of desperation, really. I was afraid she would end up dead.

I am here as someone who has already walked where my friend has walked. God continues to allow me to share my experience of strength and hope with her. As I do just that, God works through His Holy Spirit, who dwells within me, to guide my friend. That is all I am required to do. As for the rest, I have to remember that third step and continue to “turn it over”.

("Surrender" art by Henry Asencio)

http://www.drybonesdenver.org/