Optional mandatory.

In high school, we used to occasionally have basketball practices that could not, due to high school basketball rules, be called mandatory. So, the simple solution to that for the coach? Call them optional, and let it be known with some subtle hints (large intimidating smiles) and not-so-subtle hints ("Soooo, you guys should be at practice...if you're smart") that the practices were necessary if you wanted to play an integral part on the team. We called this clever strategy "optional mandatory ." However, even though I wasn't always the most enthusiastic about going into those practices, I knew that I needed to be there to both improve and be a big part of the team's success. Additionally, the practices were simply necessary in getting us ready for the upcoming games and making us better.

God's been doing that same thing with my views on poverty, serving others, and what Jesus calls me to do on this planet. I always kind of knew that working with the poor was something I should probably do, but I never had a solidified idea of what "seeking justice" (Isaiah 1:17) actually meant (How much work did that require? Who does that include? Can I do that after med school?). I mean, do I really have to do that, though? After all, some of that seeking justice stuff is pretty difficult and uncomfortable. Over the past few years, though, God has been the best coach of all time, making me realize that if I really want to be a key part of the team and love Him more, I don't have much of a choice. Loving more of the poor, the widows, and the refugees and loving less of comfort and my personal bubble is to be my goal, which just so happens to be Jesus' goal. Convenient, huh?

The idea started in Ethiopia three summers ago and it has been stirring in me ever since. The idea that a love of Christ breeds a love of serving others and caring for those who are rarely cared for. The idea that what God considers a pure and faultless religious attitude includes looking after orphan and widow in their distress (James 1:27).

The idea that the American Dream is the rest of the world's nightmare. And God isn't okay with that.

And that idea is scary. That idea makes me uncomfortable. That idea has an impact on everything: the way I use my money, the way I view my future career, the woman I marry, where I live, and how I see people who are very different than I am. That idea leaves a nervous, excited feeling in my stomach...much like at the top of a wonderful rollercoaster. So what do I call God's command to serve the poor and love the unloved, wherever I am in life?

Optional mandatory.

Sure, I could go about my business, tossing a couple of dollars at the homeless man on the corner...but failing to learn his story. I could pray that God sends others to work in the inner cities and improve conditions, knowing full well that God is calling me. But really? I can't. If I'm actually learning from the Bible, I can't turn away from the person who just lost their home, their spouse, or parents. I can't ignore those who are hungry and in need, whether that be the person on 1st Avenue or the person across the street.

I pray that if the time ever comes where I'm satisfied with keeping the poor, widowed, orphaned, etc. at arm's length, God robs my back pocket, kicks me out of my home, and puts me in their shoes anyways.

Diversity and Doritos: CityLights, Part 1

Multiethnic community is like Cool Ranch Doritos: Once you get a taste...you can't really help yourself from wanting more and more. Except multiethnic community is waaaaaaaaay healthier.

That's one of the many conclusions I've drawn from my week in St. Louis for the CityLights Spring Break with InterVarsity.

As many of you probably know, I grew up in rural Iowa, where awards for ethnic diversity don't exactly get hung in the town hall trophy case. The most unique ethnic example for my home region was the large population of Hispanics in Storm Lake, Iowa, but frankly, that wasn't ever looked upon favorably by many people. It was usually talk revolving around the jobs that were being lost to Hispanics. Rural Iowa certainly wasn't holding any Hispanic Celebration Day parades, not necessarily because of racism, but because there was a lack of exposure to any of it. I only knew about 5 people who came from significantly different background than I or had significantly darker skin than I did (which is saying something, because I would describe myself as "pasty white"). For me, diversity was something that I was all for, because I thought it was nice...but it was never necessary; if it happened, it happened. To keep the metaphor of Doritos going, I grew up in a Saltines world: white and fairly bland, but that's all I ate and grew up knowing.

Until this past week. I've been to Ethiopia and Egypt, and have seen the diverse and wonderful culture that both of those countries have; however, I've never seen a variety of cultures truly mixed in American culture. So, when I saw what New City Fellowship church was doing and experienced the power of different races and cultures actually living in community together, I was blown away. So many things that I had only talked or heard about before began to become much more real for me.

--I went to a church service that used Spanish, English, Swahili, and Hebrew songs during the worship, which preceded a talk by a Kenyan man, a Caucasian pastor who had just returned from Pakistan, and a sermon by an African American pastor. At the end of the service, we broke bread together: white, black, and every shade in between.

--I had lunch with Ameen, a friendly Pakistani man who jokingly called himself the "slumlord", who owned an apartment complex, and had a heart for improving the community. When he bought the complex, the 911 calls in the surrounding blocks were about 300 calls a month; now, it's about 3 or 4, largely due to his enforcement of a drug-free environment, even at the risk of losing important money. Last year, there was a 15-year-old Eritrean refugee gunned down in front of Ameen's apartments--the same apartments that we walked around and seeded with grass on Monday--and yet Ameen continues to fight for a better neighborhood. His smile and hospitality makes me want the same. Oh, and the lunch his wife made was a homemade Pakistani dish. Delicious.

--I had a conversation with a former member of the Crips, who talked with us about how much his life had changed in the past several years as he had begun to get involved with New City Church as a maintenance worker. He talked extensively about his life on the street, lessons he had learned, and the process that God was bringing him through. He talked about raising his 6 kids with a strained relationship with his children's mother and the difficulties with that, but honestly acknowledged both his sin and Jesus' power over it. In the span of about 5 hours, I learned more about urban city living than I could have in any sociology or anthropology class.

--Beautiful. That's how I would describe several families in the church that we were able to meet during the week. Adopted, biological, white, black--all sorts of children, all part of the same family. Sure, they acted like a normal family (I saw one sister get accidentally Chuck Norris roundhouse-kicked in the face at one point by a younger brother in a wrestling match), but that's why it was so amazing. Neither the skin color or the family tree of the child made a difference; love trumped all of it. In a conversation with Micah, a father of one of the main families we interacted with who had 8 children (a variety adopted/biological/black/white), I asked him of the challenges of adoption, especially that of kids with various ethnicities. His response was perfect; he explained that sometimes it was more challenging with adopted kids, because in a certain way, they are different than biological kids. However, he said, that's where God's grace comes in. "When you look at it, God adopted us into His family in a more powerful than even human adoption, with all our sin and crap. But at no point does He regret his decision to adopt us, nor does He say 'I give up on this kid. And neither can I'". Wow.

Enter the metaphor: Doritos and diversity.

When I looked around me, I felt like this is the way that God meant it to be. In Revelations 5, it talks about every tribe, tongue, people, and nation worshiping and living together in unity. Jesus, a Jew, reached out to the "unclean" Samaritan woman. The Acts churches reached out to orphans and widows, and strived for racial reconciliation. Multiethnic community is not simply nice, it's necessary.

But it's hard. As Jerry, the CityLights director said, "Our church, though authentic, is messy. Reconciliation is needed all the time," but he continued, "but it's a community that I think (and I say this humbly) that you will find that you wish to be a part of."

And I do. I don't know how exactly yet, but I know that if God can show me the blessings of a community like that in a week, I look forward to what he can do with more than a Spring Break. So for now, I'm left wanting more, waiting to see how God calls me to serve the immigrants, the refugees, the ethnicities that are different I, and the widows.