Juniper's Birth Story (part 2)

After I posted the blog yesterday from Starbucks, I got a text from Debra: “Come back ASAP! Pushing is starting!” So I soccer-mom-speed-walked to the delivery room and found the nurses and midwife bustling around preparing to deliver a baby. The epidural was just wearing off and Debra started feeling the pain and the urge to push. A few minutes later, the midwife said she could try a “practice push”. I kept sitting then standing then sitting again... oscillating between giddy and faint. After 3 or 4 pushes, a head emerged... I hadn’t felt excitement like that with the other two babies (who were both delivered by cesarean). We had both been through hell the last few days and the first sight of Juniper brought unbridled joy.

Click to see the photo album!

One more big push and out came Juniper Joy Harkness: all 10lbs 6oz of her! My heart was pounding. The midwife wiped her off and handed her to Debra, who was grinning and looking completely exhausted after 56 hours of labor. Juniper immediately started sucking her thumb. Then transitioned quickly to nursing like a pro. She took a few minutes to go from purple to pink and they ended up suctioning some thick mucus from her lungs. Besides that, she was (and is) perfect. Her skull was 14” (blissfully small compared to Levi’s 15.5” orange-on-a-toothpick noggin) and was dwarfed by her enormous red marshmallow cheeks.

We had a few quiet hours together after all the poking and prodding ended. Debra felt great, but was famished and ate about 3 meals in 3 hours! Later in the day, her parents brought Annabel and Levi. Annabel slowly warmed up to Juniper and was finally willing to hold her in her lap. True to form, she treated it as the most sobering responsibility ever entrusted to her. Levi didn’t seem that interested in the new usurper. But by the ended, he was gently patting her head cooing, “bye bye baby!” 

After everyone left, we indulged in our major-life-transition tradition: Star Trek. It was Next Generation during our honeymoon, Deep Space 9 with Annabel, Voyager with Levi. This time, we laughed/yawned our way through an episode of the original series in which Spok spent the hour battling giant spear-throwing apes on a forsaken planet while debating the merits of logic with his over-emotional crewmates... and all this on a $50 budget!

We all slept fitfully between feedings and diaper changes. At one point, Juniper offloaded a full dose of meconium onto her pajamas mid-diaper-change. At another point, I got scolded by the nurse for napping with the baby. We laid low all today and head home tomorrow morning.

It's been a heck of a ride and I'm in a blur. I'm already sick of changing diapers, sleeping on a hide-a-bed, fetching ice water, and choosing between Blimpie's and Chick-fil-a. I'll be excited to get home tomorrow. But I'm happy. I'm loving our family of five.

Presence: What I Learned From Contractions

There’s nothing harder for a fixer than to be emotionally present with someone you love someone experiencing pain as intense, natural, and unfixable as childbirth. After almost 48 hours of contractions, I was at my wits end. I had already raked my mind for every birth-coaching nugget I could remember from TV and the stories of friends. It all felt paltry and shallow.

Believe it or not, saying, “breathe baby. Just breathe,” over and over doesn’t go over so well in real life! You can’t promise that the pain will end soon. It won’t. When I tried giving her space, she felt alone. It felt patronizing to keep saying, “you’re amazing, you’ve so got this, you can do it!” Even when I soothed, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she assured me, “It’s NOT okay!”

The only thing that seemed to help was when I stood next to her during every contraction, holding her hand and simply saying, “I’m here. I’m with you.” That’s what we did for the better part of yesterday. It felt like the kindest thing I could do under the circumstances.

But the labor has been traumatic so far. I’ve never seen pain like it and by the time we finally opted for an epidural last night, I was crying and nearly blacking out from the stress.

Me after 48 hours. Yoiks!

We have a “short list” of people we can text day or night and I did... One wrote back, “I feel so helpless.” And the sentiment was nice. I felt helpless too. But the best thing she did for us throughout those 48 hours was just being present, saying, “I’m here. I’m with you guys.”

Again, it got me thinking about the way God interacts with people in pain. He could be like the rude young anesthetist last night poking, prodding, and eventually numbing the pain. Instead, he chooses to be more like the kind midwife, putting a hand on our shoulder, looking us in the eyes, monitoring and guiding the process gently, but mostly just being there, assuring us that we’re not alone.

Something I’m learning is that God’s presence is the best gift possible. I get so focused on the fear of pain and failure. But happiness and success aren’t the point. God is. Not in some heady, esoteric way, but in a real nuts-and-bolts way.

Since I got back from Ghana, everything in my life has felt different: permeated by a sense of purpose, expectancy, awe, and a hearty does of pain... Kind of like being pregnant! I’m aware of God’s mysterious and breathtaking beauty in the intricate cogs of my life (everything from the Fulani to my music to living in Georgia). I’m also aware of His intimate and personal presence. That feeling of being caught up in something bigger than me, yet being known and loved by a present and personal God... it delivers tremendous comfort and peace.

At the same time, I’ve been staring down the gullet of my life’s deepest hurts through an emotional healing group I lead every week. And unlike before, it’s not that scary. Excruciating. But not scary. I feel the weight of grief more closely than before. But I’m really comfortable with that feeling because I also carry this sense that God is with me. Not fixing, not even carrying the burden, just walking next to me saying “I’m here. I’m with you.” And right now, that’s more than enough.

PS- After the trauma of the epidural last night, we both collapsed and slept from 1-6:30. Debra’s labor is now progressing more swiftly... and she’s having the best sleep of her life. I’m at Starbucks, excited to meet little Juniper Joy Harkness and experience the beauty of her life in contrast to the crappiness of the last couple days. It feels like the last couple days have been a dying wilderness... ushering in a new season of life with Juniper. Stay tuned!

PPS- more on the name "Juniper Joy" here!

FAT Christians???

“I’m looking for FAT Christians who want a spiritual 6-pack!” The young Campus Crusade representative looked me in the eye when I asked about his approach to discipleship. He walked me through the familiar mnemonic: “They need to be FAT: Faithful, Available, Teachable.” Then, pulling out a pamphlet, he showed me a list of 6 spiritual attributes that become the goal of his disciple making. It looked like pretty good stuff (though I inwardly reel anytime someone puts a pamphlet between themselves and the person they are speaking with).

But the more I watch Jesus make disciples, the less I subscribe to the FAT acronym. Because when I look at the disciples, the only attribute they consistently displayed was “available”. And maybe even THAT’S going too far. Perhaps all we can say of the disciples is that they were “chosen”.

Mark records their reaction to Jesus walking on water: “They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the loaves [feeding the 5,000]; for their hearts were hardened.” I walk away from that with a couple thoughts...

1.) Jesus could have chosen any number of bright young boys from the rabbinical schools who would deftly and eagerly grasp the spiritual and theological reality of his coming. Instead he chose jaded, washed-out fishermen and tax-collectors with mixed motives and hard hearts. Why? Not because they were easier, but because that’s the upside-down kingdom: God brings his weight to bear by defying all expectations. If those fisherman and tax-collectors can become love-shaped leaders of a fledgling church, then the credit goes to God and not to someone “living up to his potential.”

2.) In his disciple making, not even Jesus could unharden someone’s heart. Beliefs and motivations run very very deep in us. I’d love to tell you there’s some zinger of a trick that forces people to buy in to your ideas and beliefs. But if Jesus couldn’t do it using all the miracles recorded in the gospels, then I’m telling you, we can’t either. Only God himself can soften a heart and that’s the point: the credit can only go to Him.

So what’s the point in trying? Why waste all our time investing in the growth of others if we can’t actually affect change?

1. Jesus did it, and he commands us to do the same. He uses farming analogies to remind us that only God can make a plant grow, but he has given us an important job in planting and cultivating.
2. God kinda has this thing about people: he loves them and enjoys softening and growing them. So it’s not like we’re alone in the effort! In fact Jesus is so confidant in God’s involvement in the discipleship process, that he commands the 12 to “make disciples”... not to “kinda sorta hope that disciples are made”.

Jesus wasn’t working with spiritual FATsos. He related, taught, prayed, listened, and then picked. And what an unlikely bunch it was! But when they finally got it, not only did God get the credit, but they became a force to be reckoned with. They were the guys preaching at Pentecost, taking the gospel to India, healing the sick, casting out demons, managing disputes, and guiding the church with unnatural wisdom.

So if you decide to invest in the lives of others, remember that it’s not about finding the person with the most “potential”. It’s not about anything that we (or our “disciples”*) naturally are or do. It’s about being intentionally obedient to “make disciples” while giving the credit to God for doing what He loves to do: bringing freedom, growth, softening, healing, and obedience to His authority. He loves it when we invest in “lost causes” because that’s where He gets the most credit. That’s where we find ourselves pushed on by the strange wind of His upside-down kingdom.


Here’s one tool I like:

I find it helpful to think about discipleship as involving equal parts of the following (credit to WDA for this one):

Relationship: a deep, intentional friendship with those we disciple
Content: the “stuff” we teach and model
Accountability: our willingness to confront wrong beliefs and hold people to their commitments
Prayer: our commitment to regularly pray with and for our disciples.
Situations: Organic and intentional situations we find ourselves in with our disciples that can be harnessed to encourage growth.

See? R-CAPS: It’s an acronym. Yay! Just remember that if you put “Content” before “Relationship”, it spells CRAPS!



*I use the term “our disciples” to indicate people in whom we are intentionally spiritually invested. It sometimes feels arrogant to talk about “my disciples” but I’m reminded that Paul told the Corinthians to, “follow me as I follow Christ.” Our goal with discipleship is to encourage others to submit to Christ as we ourselves have submitted. So the question is... how deep does our obedience go?

"When Friends aren't Friends Forever"

Two years ago, I lost my best friend. After years of heart-wrenching conflict, agonizing silence, and the judgmental fear typical of a couple 20-somethings, the man who stood up at my wedding—promising to be my friend until we were old codgers sharing beers on front porch rocking chairs—quietly made his exit. And I made mine.

It was the most painful experience of my life. Not just because I lost a friend, but because I knew somewhere deep inside that I could never replace him. For all our immaturity and brokenness, he was a good person and a good friend. And I knew that I may never again have a “best friend” like him. I’m grieving that loss today. Not because I think bestfriendom could never happen to me again, but because:

1. It SHOULD never happen in the sense that I idolized my friend, hoping too deeply for his attention and approval to fill some gaping holes in my heart. It’s a weight no friend should bear.
2. I’m tired of scanning the relational “horizon” for some friend who can fill my best friend’s vacant shoes and provide connection, value, and acceptance.
3. My wife has made it abundantly clear that she doesn’t want the job of needs-meeter (nor would it be healthy if she did).

I guess I’m stuck with God! Trouble is, I’ve experienced God as a meet-er of emotional needs... but only sporadically. There have been times when God’s love and acceptance has overwhelmed me in a way that made my wife go, “what did you do with my husband?!” Then there have been long parched seasons of my tired, crotchety, insecure self whose needs tank always seems to hover right around EMPTY.

I’ve been accused of being rabidly extroverted. But I’m still not buying it. Because I sometimes wonder if I neurotically fill my life with the presence of other people... desperately hoping for a friendly nudge, a word of care, an expression of gratitude, a meaningful connection to take my mind of the black hole of need inside.

Yesterday morning, I looked flinchingly into that black hole and God seemed to whisper, “what would it feel like to give up on your passionate pursuit of relationships to meet your needs?”

I thought for a minute and replied, “It would feel like drinking a smoothie through a straw with dry sockets: constant pain and a loud ‘sucking’ sound. I would always be desperately aware of my need!”

The whisper replied, “and that’s a bad thing?” I reeled, curled into a ball and wept. I mean... like... “healing-your-inner-child-therapy-weekend” wept. After a couple minute of staring down the maw of this deep belief that people will always reject me and that God isn’t strong enough, or kind enough, or consistent enough to meet my needs, I cried, “God you’ve GOT to give me something!” And this is where it gets fun. Because in that moment He did.

The Whisper came back into my head, “go read Matthew 6:8.” I was skeptical, but hopeful. After all, “Bible Roulette” is a dangerous game and has often backfired on me. “Okay,” I said. “This had better be good.” So I set my thumb on my weathered NIV and as if by magic, it fell open to Matthew 6:8. And in the middle of the verse, the words of Jesus leapt from the page and seemed to look me straight in the eyes: “Your Father knows what you need.”

“Your Father know what you need...”

“Your Father knows what you.... need!”

Those 6 words began to catch a rhythm and have been marching around in my brain like a game-day chant now for 24 hours. I’m not totally sure what to DO with them, but they’re becoming a healthier mental loop tape than, “everyone will always reject you.” They don’t yet ring as loud and potent as the lie but I hope that someday soon, they will.

As I process it now, I wonder if my emotional and relational need-chasm was something I thought was obscured from God, or perhaps the shameful little secret that quietly exasperated Him. If He knew how deep my need was, would He freak out and quietly take his leave, saying, “that’s way too much pressure”? Of course, it’s a silly thought. And yet, that’s the response I’ve come to expect from people. So why not God?

The words of Jesus tell me a different story. They say, “The Father knows the black hole of need inside you AND He’s not threatened by it. You look at it with a grimace of shame. The Father looks at it directly and stays with you. Even if he doesn’t make the chasm disappear, he stands with you in the chasm and encourages you to look at it without fear or shame.”

To me, the promise of His presence in my deepest place of need rings truer and more refreshing than a simple promise to “fix it”. If He knows my need and is willing to stand there with me, then maybe I can face it. Maybe someday, I’ll even learn to joke about it! Because the fact of his knowing and His Presence in the midst of my need knocks the teeth out of that lion.

In that reality, the loss of a friend (and the fear of always being alone) is still extremely painful. It makes me sad. But suddenly, I’m not as scared of the pain as I used to be. It doesn’t threaten me as deeply. Because somewhere beyond emotion, I sense the presence of the One who knows what I need and isn’t scared by it.

Righteousness Disqualifies

I’ve been trying to encourage a friend of mine to start investing intentionally in the lives of others. Over the last few years, I’ve walked with him through an intense season of humbling and new growth. He’s one of the most aggressive learners I know. He’s an intense, messy, ruthlessly honest person and I think he has a lot to offer other people on the journey with Jesus.

But when I try to encourage him to disciple others, he says something like, “yeah right. Look at me! I’m worse than most people...” To which I commonly reply, “I think that’s your best qualification!”

Okay, hang on. I’m about to get a little preachy... a bit “thou”-ish. Please excuse. ☺

I know precious few who so authentically pursue God’s love while being so honest about the mess that is their lives. In other words, here’s someone who gets grace. He just doesn’t know yet what a rare gem that makes him.

I know FAR more people who excel in righteousness and stink at love. When those people run off to “serve the Lord”, I get seriously worried. In my own journey, it’s become far less about conforming my behavior or cultivating more zeal... I did that for way too long. Instead, my journey has become far more about knowing my neediness and cultivating compassion for the neediness of others.

If you’re a Christian who has “gotten clean” and grown in righteousness, but hasn’t been recently humbled and deeply shaken by God’s love in the midst of your mess... PLEASE don’t run off to the mission field or church work, even if you’re really smart and talented and all the Christians beg you to. Let’s leave that work to those beautiful rotten sinners who need God. In the mean time, we should pray that God makes us one of them. (If you need practical suggestions in how to become more aware of your sorry state, try getting married and having kids.)

But if you’re one of those honest messy people that knows God’s love and thinks you have nothing to offer, then hold on to your hat, “cause it’s about to get real.” You'll probably find you have more to offer than you ever dreamed. That’s the upside kingdom for ya. As Jesus says, “I have not come to call those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners and need to repent.”


PS- If your thinking of slapping me in stocks and informing me of the biblical mandate to pursue righteousness, I'll save you the time. I'm perfectly familiar with the various views on sanctification, the sermon on the mount, Paul's lists of spiritual ills, etc, etc. My point isn't that we should be more fleshy, but that we should more readily acknowledge self-righteouness as the most insidiously fleshy thing we can do according to Jesus. It's not a nasty little habit. It's the deadliest of those deadly sins. And we should be a little quicker to encourage and empower those who struggle daily to live up to the "standard" and know it. They're make the best teachers of grace and we'd all do well to sit at their feet.

He Loves You and it has Nothing to Do with You

It seems like there's this tension in the bible between the holiness and love of God and Christians have always tended to camp out on one end of the continuum or the other. Either God is glorious and distant, or he’s a big teddy bear who hopes we’ll do our best and follow our hearts.

I’ve traversed the spectrum for 10 years from John Piper’s reformed passion to Jack Frost’s bathe-in-the-love-of-God sentimentality. These days, I know I err on the love side (seems harder to go wrong there). But then I’ve found myself recently in Isaiah and Ezekiel:

“It is not for your sake, people of Israel, that I am going to do these things, but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations.”

“Do not be afraid, you worm Jacob, little Israel, do not fear, for I myself will help you,” declares the Lord, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.”

I think the miracle of the Christian faith is that God’s presence with us is both Holy and Intimate and that makes us ridiculously uncomfortable. We either want an unknowable God we can passively acknowledge and go on with our lives, or we want a super nice God that grades on a curve and just wants us to be happy. The problem in the bible is that He’s neither of those things.

Let me bring it out of the stratosphere: when I’m sitting here in the morning, God’s presence often shows up. Or at least I become aware of it. It’s hard to explain but it feels both warm and chilling. The first feeling is electric. Then comes a flood of guilt. I’m a failure, a worm, a love miser. I think of my impatience with my family, my resource-clinging, my failure to care. Suddenly, there’s warmth. Wave after wave of undeserved acceptance come with words like “son, beloved, accepted, My Own.” As my heart sheds the crust of self-interest and self-righteousness and settles into the warmth of the God we insanely call “Father”, He begins to say things that nobody else could get away with: strong, honest words of correction, rebuke, and direction. Exquisite, tough love.

I know that His passion is for me, but ultimately, His passion is for himself, the Source, the triune Lover, the Unmoved Mover. It’s not because I’m just so good or have so much potential. I know He loves me for His own sake, because that’s just who He is.

Ultimately in my faith tradition (I say tradition, but to me it’s a breathing daily reality), Jesus plays the role of ultimate mediator, making the exquisite tension of God’s Holy Intimacy possible on a personal level.

Every religion I’ve met seeks to navigate our relationship with the transcendent through some kind of mediator (whether it’s sacrafices, good deeds, lesser gods, ancestors, a book, or a priest). Agnosticism is an exception, but as a former agnostic, I can say it’s more of a spiritual in-between (a purgatory of sorts) than an actual position and there’s very little hope there unless your “ultimate” is temporal. In the Christian tradition, Jesus plays the role of mediator and priest. And because He himself is Transcendent, you don’t have to go to a church, make a sacrifice, or commune with the ancestors to relate to God. You can go directly to Him. Heck He invites you to call him “Papa”! So in the end, this is how it works out in the Jesus Kingdom:

“Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let’s not let it slip through our fingers. We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help.” (Hebrews 4:14-16)

Because of that, we find Presence and Transcendence, Love and Holiness occupying the same space. It’s not a continuum. It’s a tension: living, breathing, electric.

Conversion and Progress in Ghanaian Villages

I think I’ve earned my stripes as a cynical Christian. I’m the first to criticize hypocrisy, apathy, and pretense in the church. I cringe at churchy language and religious manipulation. Yet I remain a firm believer that God loves all people equally and that Jesus is the best redeemer of cultures and religions—Christianity included. When Jesus is present in the church, something beautiful happens.

I spent my first week in southern Ghana where every business, every preacher, every crooked cop seems to tout some exaggerated form of Christianity. The culture is so anemically religious you could call it, “Ghana’s bible belt.” I hated it.

But in northern Ghana, where we’ve been spending the last week, the church is leaner and stronger. In a Muslim and Traditionalist context, Christians believe that the gospel is always pushing outward. They believe that the most natural environment for Christian faith isn’t in the Christian capitals of the world, but in the animistic villages and nomadic tribes. They spend less time building church empires and more time sharing the “good news”. And in a real sense that “good news” isn’t JUST a hope in heaven. It’s clean water. It’s education. It’s love-based development.

I know that sometimes, development can be used as a switcheroo for proselytizing, and these Ghanaians DO preach Christianity. But I sense that most of them actually believe that God loves all people—Christians, Muslims, and traditionalists—the same. So they work tirelessly in the villages, though it’s often a thankless job. And just being around them preaches to me.

After meeting with our Fulani friends the other day, we went to a village where a small hole in the ground serves as their water supply.

Some years it sees them through the springtime droughts. Usually, they spend a couple months struggling to find water. A small brick reservoir built to catch the rain falling off the tin roof would see them through the dry season with clean, accessible water. It wouldn’t be expensive... a couple grand maybe. In 3 other villages, we noticed that the arrival of water projects ALSO brought small village schools—sometimes just a chalkboard under a mango tree... Suddenly I’m thinking... I could buy a new macbook. Or I could kick start a future for 40 kids.

I’m looking into the faces of these beautiful children and I’m seeing my own children—Annabel and Levi—and it ruins me. I’m thinking, “We had no right to be born in America. It was just dumb luck. These people aren’t CNN headlines, poverty statistics, or global problems. These are people. They are part of me and I’m part of them. How can I not care for them?”

The exciting thing is, the church is loving them. For all of its issues, the church... Christians are responding in love. All over Northern Ghana, we saw the church (not government) at the forefront of development. Sometimes, projects are funded by NGO’s, but it’s Ghanaian Christians providing the manpower. It’s not benefitting them or their churches. They’re doing it just because.

In church-saturated cultures, I often feel embarrassed and alarmed by the church. But in the northern Ghana, I feel proud to be a Christian, because the church is presently the most effective change agent in that region. And where the gospel is pushing out to the margins, good things are happening. We were told that the general perception among traditional villages is that Christianity brings development and that’s true for a number of reasons. One is a greater connectedness to the outside world, the Christian community, and to NGO’s. Another is that Christians spend less on alcohol and witch doctors. A sense of generosity, community, and universal human brotherhood is developed. (For instance the new Christians in one village report that their faith challenges them to live at peace with their Muslim neighbors and share resources with them.) Christianity shows up as a liberating force for women. And Christians are choosing healthier lifestyles overall.

So even the flagrant proselytizing doesn’t bother me (I say this not as an evangelist, but as a Christian cynic). In fact, it excites me, because I know that 1.) It comes from a loving heart and is not manipulative, underhanded, or neo-colonial. And 2.) Conversion has brought more hope and authentic transformation than I’ve ever seen in a community. It hasn’t culturally disenfranchised them. It’s culturally invigorated, redeemed, and united them. In one village, a group of children broke out in spontaneous song and dance with big grins on their faces. Our Ghanaian friend leaned over and said, "This song is popular in the villages. It means, 'when I die, don't ask the soothsayer what killed me because Jesus took me away.'"

In another village, an elder told us, “everybody in the world longs for progress. We see this as progress.” THAT'S something I can get behind.

The Harkness is PlentiFulani

“This is my advice to you,” said the old Fulani pastor to the Muslim chief and his entourage of 30 unsmiling tribesmen gathered on the porch. “First, I have been telling you for years that you must accept Jesus as your Lord and savior. Or at least, if one of you becomes a Christian, you should not persecute him. Two, you must send your children to school. Three, we must meet regularly to talk about community matters. But most importantly, you should all become Christians.

The stoic intensity of the group’s narrow features cracked open and everybody laughed together at the old pastor’s audacious attempt to convert the whole tribe on the spot.

“I am not offended by this advice,” replied the chief with a glint of humor in his eyes. “But you must know it is difficult! If you have 100 cows, you can lead them with just 1 stick, but if you are responsible for leading 100 cows and just one person, you will need 2 sticks!” Again, the group, Christian and Muslim, erupted together in laughter. There was good will.

Believe it or not (I’m not sure I do), these Fulani came because they heard a man with a heart for their tribe was coming to greet them. That would be me. The chief himself (who oversees the entire region) traveled two hours to meet us. So after being welcomed I was given the chance to speak my mind using two translators to get my message from English to Konkonba to Fulfulde. I told them how I God had put the Fulani on my heart and I had prayed for 8 years that God would bless their tribe, how I was led through a dream to spend a summer with the Fulani in Guinea, and how I believed God loved them and wanted to bless them. I asked about how they were doing and some of the challenges they are facing. They talked a lot about economic and health challenges. The main issue was educating their children since they are needed to help herd the cattle. They allowed me to pray a blessing for them. I promised to continue praying for them and that God willing, I would return. They asked me to come again soon and to spend a few days with them.

Jonah (a YLI coach here) has decided to start working more among the Fulani since almost no Christians are loving on them in that region (The Fulani are known for waylaying lone travelers and trampling crops. They are hated, feared, and marginalized.) He and Pastor Peter (the old Fulani pastor) plan to hold quarterly meetings with the Fulani and keep me up to date on their progress. Jonah particularly has a passion to speak against female circumcision (which is thought to eliminate sexual desire and thereby ensure a woman’s fidelity to her husband). Though it’s illegal in Ghana, the Fulani still practice it. Jonah says he loses sleep at night thinking about it.

After the meeting, we stopped by a small encampment where a few traditional Fulani women were weaving grass mats. We asked if we could take there picture and they quickly ran to change into their Sunday... er... Friday best. Here are a couple shots I got. They asked us to send them copies of the photos and my Pulaar comprehension clicked in when they indicated didi (two) copies. I was inordinately excited that the Ghana dialect was so similar to the Guinea one!

So apparently, something new started today. None of us can quite figure it out. But we suspect God is doing something cool with the Fulani. And I got to be there to see it happen. Love my job.

(By way of explanation... I started a prayer group for the Fulani in college after I read about them and started crying. I just felt God’s love for this people group and was compelled to pray. After college, my path always seemed to cross with the Fulani. From meeting Fulanis in restaurants and trains in Chicago, to spending a summer in Guinea, to my surprise Fulani meeting yesterday! Yesterday was a very significant for me in that it put me in a position to be a direct blessing to the Fulani in tangible, relational ways.)

How Love Went Viral in Kpenchila

“Before all this,” the elder said, waving his weathered hands to indicate the tin-roofed shelter, the makeshift school, the large brick reservoir, “We did not even consider ourselves human beings. Now, we consider ourselves to be human beings.” The people beneath the shelter seemed bright-eyed, healthy, even joyful. Dozens of kids for whom education was previously impossible are now learning their ABC’s. A little church meets under the shelter. And the whole village has ready access to clean drinking water. The community carries a sense of dignity and communal identity that I perceive did not exist a few years ago. “Not only are you human beings,” replied Ash quietly through the translator. “You are children of God.”

So I was thinking... how does Young Leaders International, a tiny discipleship ministry focusing on a just 5 Ghanaian “coaches” bring clean water, spiritual transformation, and a communal sense of personhood to 3 villages in northern Ghana?

Here’s how I see it from an outsider’s perspective.

A few years ago, an American with a deep sense of God’s love came to Ghana to love young leaders. Not a lot of leaders. Just a few. He came without a lot of strategies and agendas, but a firm belief that love was the strongest stuff in the universe. It was a risky bet and not every leader received love. But a few did. They started visiting villages, praying for strangers in hospitals, showing practical love in their communities, and loving other young leaders.

When one coach visited a village and saw the cesspool that served as their water supply, his love made him cry. So YLI raised $12,000 and bought materials for a new water system designed by Ghanaians and built by the villagers. Then they did the same for 2 more villages. Their activity attracted other aid groups who built schools, clinics, even a playground!

The village elders believe they received God’s love in a very tangible way and they want to share that love with others. So independently, they’ve planted churches and share their water with the Fulani tribesmen in their area: nomadic Muslim cattle-herders known for banditry, murder, and trampling crops with their herds. The village of Kpenchila says the love of Christ has helped them live at peace with their Muslim neighbors. One local Imam has even asked them to plant a church in his area, seeing the good the Christians are doing.

I told one village how I learned about the Fulani in college and began to cry. God spoke to me then about His love for the Fulani and I began praying for them each day. Later I lived in a Fulani town in Guinea for a month. I knew I might see a few Fulani on this trip, but didn’t expect to see so many. Fulani settlements are interspersed between these 3 villages and I got to encourage them to keep loving the Fulani. I believe they will do just that. And if the nomadic Fulani receive God’s love, then... well I have my own ideas on that.

So that’s how love goes viral. Ash says, “I sometimes have my doubts, but one thing I’m always sure about is love.” Right.

One Lone Indian

The 5,000-person Pentecost Convention Center sits in the middle of the bush, down contorted dirt roads, past cows and lonely construction equipment. It’s an unfinished shrine to the mega-church mega-Christianity exploding across Africa today. And it was the home of the Ghana 2013 missions conference at which delegates from all over the world have came to talk about discipleship, mission, and unreached people groups.

I expected this conference to be a cutting edge conversation on the relationship between discipleship and mission. I hoped it would be content-rich, theologically engaging, and practically instructive. Instead, I’ve heard a number of moralizing admonitions about the importance of discipleship, tired recitations of the great commission, and a dry analysis of how big the unfinished task is. The conversation (which maybe is too generous a term) has been stale. Plainly stated, I’m a little disappointed.

One moment of intrigue came when a member of the newly-formed South Sudanese parliament addressed the audience on the Christian spirituality of the new government and the importance of being a “Christian nation”. That “Christian nation” theme had run strongly throughout the day with a number of speakers extolling the value and blessings of living in a Christian society. So when the Sudanese MP presented the Christian fidelity of his nation, he was met with cacophonous cheering and applause. I leaned over to my African friend and whispered, “the Christian nations of Africa scare me.” He agreed.

Nigerian pastor, Gbile Akani has been an an insightful exception to the often tepid or shallow talks. Though off-puttingly exaggerated in his preaching style, I joked with my friends that by true Nigerian standards, he must seem like a meek old hermit. His reflections on leadership were solid, and compelling, and richly African.

But let me tell you about the REAL highlight of this conference.

In the sea of white and black, there was a lone Indian man named Emmanuel. Our little cadre of Ghanaian YLI coaches, myself, Ash, and my dear Malawian friend Harvey (who came to meet us from the UK) adopted Emmanuel and dragged him every with us. I mean, the guy smelled like Jesus. We could feel it.



Forced to go to bible school as a teenager, Emmanuel eventually had a conversion experience and went into fulltime ministry. Hospitalized with debilitating arthritis, he was miraculously healed after a month. Then his wife died of Dengu fever leaving him with 2 little girls who couldn’t understand that their mother wasn’t coming home. The youngest wouldn’t sleep at night for 6 months and clung to her dad for dear life. This is the first time in 3 years Emmanuel has left her overnight. And it’s his first time outside India. His pain is still fresh and we were surprised by his authenticity, his tears, and his ardent belief that though God hasn’t answered Emmanuel’s questions, it was God that walked with him the whole way. He’s remarried a woman who loves his daughters and they have a new baby boy. He lives with SEVERAL family members, does evangelism with kids, trains Tamil pastors working in the village, pastors a small church, and the list goes on. He was a perfect fit with the YLI bunch. By the time we left, Ash had his contact info and was scheming on how to get to Chennai! Before we left, we gathered for a time of listening and discerning God’s heart for the next steps. It was a beautiful time.

The other really significant thing for me was having Harvey there. He made a number of unbelievable connections during his trip and I loved reconnecting with him. He was happy to be in Africa again after 7 years and there was an encouraging sense of God’s intentionality in bringing him there. Harvey and I have been through some tough times together and it was so cool to see God giving him so many great connections. One guy he sat next to on the plane ride down happens to be an African living in Germany doing exactly the thing Harvey’s trying to do in the UK (training Africans in Europe for mission).

What can I say about the conference? God’s heart is all inverted and upside down. While the highly-charged summit of 400 mission leaders talking about discipleship did almost NOTHING for me, a few Ghanaians, a buddy from Malawi, and 1 lone Indian provided all the sense of momentum and purpose I could possibly ask for. I love that God is in the little things.

Odwira: yams, ancestors, and Jesus

Today I was at the Akrofi-Christaller institute in Ghana, one of Africa’s most prestigious theological schools. In terms of vigorous theological thinking and training from an authentically African perspective, Akrofi is the place. My friend, Ash came here from America for both the prestigious academic environment as well as the chance to get inside a uniquely African understanding of Christianity, hoping it would enhance his work in Ghana with Young Leaders International.



In NGO terms, Ash’s work is leadership development. Christians call it discipleship. Ash calls it “just loving on young leaders.” He goes deep with a few and I admire that approach. So I came to Ghana, among other reasons, to see what “deep with a few” looks like in an African context and to apply that to my own work with WDA. Added bonus? Sitting with some of the brightest African minds both at Akrofi and Ghana 2013.



Today, I went with a student group from Akrofi to observe the festivities surrounding a traditional Ghanaian religious holiday: Odwira. It’s a tradition purification ritual involving reconciliation within the community, invoking the ancestors, and renewing one’s covenant relationship with the divine. Odwira involves some eerie things considered demonic by many Christians. It also involves some profoundly redemptive themes: atonement, covenant, unity within community and with the divine, and how to mediate a right relationship with the supreme God, Nyankopen.



But today, it mostly involved yams and wrestling! For the last 6 weeks, yams (the traditional mainstay) have been officially banned here in Akropong while the ancestors sleep in preparation for Odwira. Long story. But when the yam is ceremonially reintroduced (coinciding with the ripening of the new yam crop), the young men battle it out over 6 new yams like a giant game of kill-the-guy-with-the-ball. I wasn’t expecting it to get quite so physical!



Returning back to the institute, I listened to an African researcher and professor—an expert on Odwira—give a 3-hour explanation of the complex tradition that left my head spinning. I oscillated between fascination and despair as I realized how little I actually understand about traditional African culture and religion. Maybe its because I’ve never spent time with traditionalists in Africa. Maybe part of me just doesn’t care enough, considering how little time I have to absorb language and culture in each new area I visit.



But today, I appreciated the depth and intellectual integrity of Dr. Afriyie as she patiently described to a room full of Christian theology students the significance of the Odwira festival without immediately jumping to missiological conclusions (though they were there in abundance). She patiently described her research process surrounding the festival and the intrinsic value of understanding the tradition. Many of us, myself included might assume that this is a “pagan” ritual, and therefore not worth understanding deeply. But I saw a greater thoughtfulness today and I liked it. Because in addition to validating some of the deeper cultural values behind Odwira, I also saw opportunities for a deeper gospel enculturation as the Ghanaian Jesus incarnates himself into the legends and lore of the Akan people: as purifier, ancestor, mediator, and friend.

Rich American, Vacuuous Need, and the Enough-Maker

“Bring them here to me.” Simple words of a sure faith. Jesus said that just before using 5 loaves of bread to feed 5,000. “Bring what you have and I’ll make up the difference.”

“Lord, we only have....” said the disciples. I say that a lot too. Lord, I only have this much money, time, energy, love, whatever. And He says, “bring them here to me.”

I’m going to Africa tomorrow and I’m excited! What started as a little laid-back scouting trip to visit a friend and scope out his approach to discipleship in Africa has turned into an epic 10-day bonanza including...

1. A 700-person global missions summit on discipleship and unreached people groups at which I am now a delegate

2. Non-stop travel throughout the country

3. Meetings, interviews, and lots of really interesting people on the cutting edge of ministry

And I found out yesterday that one of my closest (and smartest) African friends will be coming from the UK to be at the conference!  I’m amazed at how God has arranged the pieces to get me into proximity with some of the brightest minds in my field. This one could be a game-changer. I won’t get all health-wealthish on you. But I think it’s really neat when God takes our little and makes it a lot.

When I go to Africa, it’s a bit like a game of chicken. Middleclass American, meet vacuous need. Who’s going to back down first? I’ve given up on letting need direct me. I don’t think that healthy or terribly helpful. But as I’ve gotten to know Jesus better, I find myself in more positions to be generous and it’s far less threatening than it used to be.

I used to travel and allegorically hold my wallet tight against my chest the whole time. Terrified of being taken advantage of. Terrified of finding my five little loaves stripped from me. But I’ve relaxed a bit as I’ve gotten to know God’s heart and provision. I can listen for his little prompts (which sound a whole lot sweeter than sales pitches and impoverished pleas) and bring my little inadequate resources (time, energy, resources, love) to the Father, trusting that God’s presence is the uber enough-maker. I actually learned that from my African friends.

I’m praying a little more these days. And it seems like the more I bring my “stuff” to Jesus, the less I worry about it running out.

Rattling Bones and the Logs of Judgement

(Here's a new song. It's the soundtrack for this post...)

Can I just be real with you for a sec? I’m a real judger. Sometimes I think the most awful, condemning thoughts about people. Critical words and labels for people come to mind that I should never repeat out loud. They’re the kind of words that go in like a barb and stick for years. True enough to wound. Not True enough to heal. I hate those words. They feel demonic. But I don’t know how to unthink them, how to unlearn them.

http://cccooperagency.wordpress.com/page/52/

My family and best friends bear the brunt of my judgment and I hate that most of all. On mornings like this, it casts a pall over the house. And my lips are zipped tight to protect everyone from myself.

Groggy and depressed, I breathe a sincere prayer for help. Then I open my bible at random. *Plop* Matthew 7:1 - “Do not judge or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

Thanks a lot God. So it’s, “just knock it off” then, right? Ha. Ha... Ha.

I’m on the record saying “acceptance is the most powerful healing force in the universe.” So why is it so hard for me to live it (and give it) in my inner circles? Expectations, choices, pride, and conditioning I suppose.

I’m not sure I totally like what my accepting self would look like. I fear losing my “standards” and ideals. I fear becoming muted, domesticated, wimpy, and resigned. If you’re a judger you know what I mean. If not, you might hate my guts right now.

But I’m not happy as a judger.

One, because it stymies my own spiritual growth. Jesus says I should take the plank out of my own eye before worrying about the speck in my brother’s eye. But I don’t think he means that I’m truly a worse person than my brother. Maybe my brother’s speck is a plank to him and it’s just a matter of perspective. I think it’s also a matter of responsibility. My responsibility to discern and call out the issues in other people is real. But it’s speck-like in comparison to my responsibility to deal with my own junk. And when I DO call people out, it should always be with the intention of being helpful, not just making myself feel better. I should always have the humility—no matter how vindicated I feel—to be speckish in dealing with other people’s issues and plankish in dealing with my own.

And two, because it kills my relationships. It just wreaks havoc on the people I love. I can’t tell you how it works. But somehow, when I express empathetic acceptance, my relationships breathe, flourish and often, people grow. When I express judgment, they grit their teeth, dig a foxhole, and surround it with landmines. Then I hide behind a big rock and shout, “I’m just trying to help you!!”

I’m not sure how to apply this in my day-to-day. I’m sure it has something to do with accepting myself and allowing God to accept me. I’m sure it has something to do with owning my identity as the beloved child of a heavenly Father. That’s the beauty of the Jesus Way: it puts us in a uniquely intimate relationship with God in which we find real familial love and acceptance. But I’d be lying to you if I said I was good at tapping into that love and acceptance on a daily basis.

Maybe if you’re a judger like me, you’ll know just how to fix me. But I’m a bit stymied. Worthless stymied people! So I’ll take my own “medicine” and realize once again just how gross the stuff is.

There’s a little shimmer of hope though; a new vision God gave me last week that I haven’t grown into yet. It’s Ezekiel 37: the dry bones that God raises. The vision is this: I’m not a warm body fighting decay. I’m a helpless pile of bones rattling to life. If I can own that vision, then I’ll be okay with failure, because bones aren’t good for much anyway.

But I’ll also be able to trust God’s power and the slow resurrection in my life. I’ll be able to believe that God is in fact, making me a MORE vibrant, alive, and caring person as I age (not less)... that he doesn’t expect perfection, but that he is slowly performing eye surgery to remove the big logs of judgment from my vision.

I think I DO trust that vision. I’m just feeling pretty boney today.

97 and Living Like Crazy

At 97, great great aunt Charlotte is one of the sharpest and most vibrantly alive human beings I know. Her friend Stevie (who has lived with Charlotte and been adopted into ourfamily for 60 years now) is the same way, but with an extra spark and humor. We arranged by email (yes email) to meet up this week for breakfast. They ambushed me with questions about my family, my life, and my ministry. They were keenly interested in the latest developments and reminded me that they pray often for us, along with all the rest of Char’s family AND Stevie’s, “76 nieces, nephews,grands, and great-grands.”

I finally got a question of my own in and then sat listening to these two young-at-heart women tell me hilarious and heartfelt stories from the last nearly 100 years about how they met, the bible studies they’ve led together, and the times they’ve gotten pulled over for speeding while singing hymns at the top of their lungs. At present, they STILL lead bible studies with 20-somethings AND 90-somethings! They’re also passionately trying to convert their entire apartment complex to their unique brand of lively, surrendered Christianity.

Their secret? They talked about an upbringing under a wise and loving pastor in a church that was passionate about the bible and an intimate daily “walk” with Jesus. “We used to sing hymns like, ‘He walks with me, and He talks with me, and tells me I am his own,’” aunt Char related. The emphasis on intimacy with God was very strong. They also cited a lifelong reading of the bible. Stevie interjected, “I’m absolutely convinced that the only lasting change for good in peoples’ lives comes through God’s Word.”

Everything in me loves who they are. And I love what they teach me about aging.

Arecent Barna study has been rattling around in my brain for weeks now. The study examined “christlikeness” in a representative sample of AmericanChristians. Studying the records of Jesus’ life, they deduced 5 attitudes and 5 behaviors that seemed to characterize Jesus alongside 5 attitudes and 5 behaviors that characterized the Pharisees. They asked people to respond to questions with a 1-4 rating and used the results to determine how many Christiansin fact emulate the attitudes and action of Jesus more than the self-righteous attitudes and actions of the Pharisees.

The result? Right around 14% of Christians across the board could be called “Christ-like”. It was 23% among evangelicals. Ouch.

One of the groups that fared worst was people over the ageof 67 (only 6% were Christ-like). I’ve suspected for a long time that age alone does not produce maturity. In many cases, it seems to harden and embitter rather than soften and improve. I’ve faced that fact with trepidation as I think about my next 10, 20, 70 years. Why does older NOT seem to equate to wiser or better? Will I be a nastier human being at 70 than I was at 20?

Yet there sitting across from me was living proof that lifelong growth and maturing is possible. As I shared my hopes and fears about aging with these beautiful ladies, they were reflective. “I wonder,” mused Stevie, “if people’s focus simply turns inward as they experience more and more loss and physical illness.” But with conviction, she related a lesson from the book of James about rejoicing in the midst of suffering and how God had taught her that lesson over and over again in her life.

It’s hard to be cynical when sitting with such women. As an Evangelical, I’m deeply suspicious of evangelicalism as a cultural institution. But in their story, I heard an evangelical faith deeply rooted deeply in a personal, authentic relationship with Jesus. I could only applaud that.

I also heard the legacy of a faith that is in fact very old. I thought of my own spiritual journey, how my wild and weird encounters with God feel raw and fresh and deep in the context of my personal experience. And I wondered how many people over thousands of years have in fact felt the same intimate relationship to a loving God in pursuit of His creation. How many people across history and cultures have not only believed the story of Jesus, but also sensed that the hero of their faith was alive and present in their daily lives? I’m heartened by the awareness that though I often feel on some wild frontier of faith and relationship with Him, I am in fact in very goodcompany.

Why are evangelicals only slightly more appreciated than prostitutes?

Today, I’m chewing on Hosea, the Old Testament book in which God tells the prophet Hosea to marry a prostitute. And when she is unfaithful God commands him to literally buy her back at a prostitute’s price... it's supposed to be an allegory for God’s relationship with Israel. People like the book because it graphically demonstrates God’s passionate pursuit of people, even at the cost of his own dignity.

But today I’m drawn in by something else. I’m amazed by the way God talks about righteousness and unrighteousness. Here’s an example from chapter 4:

“There is no faithfulness, no love,
    no acknowledgment of God in the land.
There is only cursing,^[a] lying and murder,
    stealing and adultery;
they break all bounds,
    and bloodshed follows bloodshed.”

Notice anything? Faithfulness, love, and acknowledgment of God (the good stuff)... those are internal realities. Cursing, lying, and murder... that’s all external. So when people are spiraling away from God, the proof here is seen in their actions.

And while we all expect goodness to symmetrically show itself as a behavioral reality, in fact, it’s a heart thing. Paul says it this way in Galatians 5:

¹⁹ The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; ²⁰ idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions²¹ and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.

²² But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness,²³ gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. 

We all know that attitudes and behavior are inextricably linked. Of course they are! But when talking about goodness, the bible (at least from the prophets onward) is careful about NOT talking it as just a behavioral thing. I imagine it’s a built-in safeguard against legalism and self-righteousness.

Shame on the Church for missing this. We’ve gotten good at defining ourselves as a religious community by what we don’t do and don’t approve of. That may be one reason that in 2002, the Barna Group reported,

Surprisingly Few Adults Outside of Christianity Have Positive Views of Christians

Well, in fact, when asked to give their impressions of 11 groups, non-Christians ranked “evangelicals” at number 10... just ahead of prostitutes.

We like being able to judge the behavioral indicators of “moral decay”. But then we define our own goodness in the same behavioral terms. But as much as we stand apart from the herd in our refusal to drink, swear, smoke, or sleep around (calling it our “testimony”), non-Christians can still take one look at our attitude and disposition and say, “Yeah right. I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

So next time you hear a Christian rant about the rotten state of affairs in the world, you can say, “so what makes you any better?” And if they tell you all about their quiet times, or political activism, or church attendance, or lifestyle choices, just say, “alright, but how’s your heart? Because from where I sit, you’re still not looking any better than anyone else.” If you say do that, you may be doing that person a huge favor.

Dealing with the Expectation of Rejection

I’ve moved 12 times in 12 years. I’ve experienced the pain of making and losing friends over and over again. At times I’ve been rejected outright. Other times, people have just faded away. It has made connection and vulnerability a tricky thing when I expect people be gone from my life after a year or two.

Rejection is hard for anyone. But for me it’s become quite the sore spot and a topic of a lot of thought. This year, I’m settling into a place that could be home for the rest of my life. Yet I still see people through the strained eyes of a traveler. In the last month, I’ve gently put my weight down on 2 or 3 relationships here and found safety and acceptance. But it’s strange and uncomfortable and I don’t trust it yet.

There’s something deep and wonderful about the way Jesus deals with the expectation of rejection. I’ve been watching him carefully through the course of Mark 14, his last evening with his disciples. He acknowledges, “You will all fall away.” Yet I hear the tone of that evening (John 13-17), and I don’t think, “this is a conversation between people who are about to be alienated from each other.” The feeling is vulnerable, intimate, and hushed.

Here are a few highlights of Jesus’ reaction that leave me scratching my head:

-He does not deflect his pain, but expresses it. “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death”

-He expresses his disappointment in them. “Could you not keep watch for one hour?”

-He expresses a sense of deep personal worthiness. “Woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man.”

-He is earnest, not cynical.

-He chooses to be vulnerable and intimate, washing their feet. He even seems to ramp up the vulnerability at the end.

-Yet he does NOT try to change their minds or win them back.

-He sees PAST the rejection. “I will go ahead of you into Galilee.”

-He carries a deep sense of purpose. “The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him.”

What I see in Jesus isn’t masochism. But he allows his friends to be his friends up to the last moment. He doesn’t check out of the relationship prematurely. He gives them a choice even though he knows what they will choose. If it were me... I couldn’t do that.

I’m really trying these days to give people a choice to either accept or reject me, even if past experience tells me it’s a forgone conclusion. Sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised. Sometimes my fears come true.

But there’s something cathartic even in realizing my worst fears and then waking up the next day. Because in all the worst case scenarios in my head, there IS no “tomorrow". Just... game over. But I’m discovering that win or lose, there IS something cool about showing up to play the game. Somehow it feels that the risk itself makes vulnerability worth my while. Maybe Jesus knew that too.

There’s so much I DON’T grasp about Jesus’ friendship with the 12. But it feels profoundly (big G) Good. One more reason I’m happy to call myself one of His followers.