Seeing the Other | The Father, Jesus, The Holy Spirit, and Me

This has been an amazing season for CitySalt blog writers and readers. I have been blessed again and again by the insights and hearts revealed through the theme of “Seeing the Other“. If you missed any of the posts in the last few months, I highly recommend that you click on the Salt Blog and scroll down to read the ones you missed. It is a treasure trove.

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Do you ever think of God as ‘the Other?’

The Nicene Creed begins,
“We believe in one God,
the Father, the Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
and of all that is, seen and unseen.”

I recited that creed every Sunday in my youth and I believed it and still do. I have spent a lifetime trying to wrap my head and my heart around a God who is amazingly wise, all powerful, perfect, all seeing, a God who created a universe that appears endless and incomprehensible. A God who Psalm 139 says, “knit me together in my mother’s womb.” We have only scratched the surface in understanding how these bodies of ours function and must constantly amend our understanding as we learn more. How is it that I can have anything in common with the amazing Being who created me?

“We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,
the only Son of God,
eternally begotten of the Father,
God from God, Light from Light,
true God from true God,
begotten, not made,
one in Being with the Father.
Through him all things were made.”

Jesus, one with the Father, also God, almighty, all powerful…

John 1:1-5
In the beginning the Word already existed.
The Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
He existed in the beginning with God.
God created everything through him,
and nothing was created except through him.
The Word gave life to everything that was created,
and his life brought light to everyone.
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness can never extinguish it.

Yet, he calls me, friend (John 15:15). He is my Savior, He laid down His life for me. He left His place by the Father’s side and experienced pain and death for me. He came as a servant when He was God. How is it that I have anything in common with this extraordinary Man?

“We believe in the Holy Spirit,
the Lord, the giver of life,
who proceeds from the
Father and the Son.
With the Father and the Son
he is worshipped and glorified.
He has spoken through the Prophets.”

The Holy Spirit, teaches me, empowers me, inspires me. He, too, is God. He is also a gift from God to us that we might know Him better and be more like Him.

John 14:26
But when the Father sends the Advocate as my representative—that is, the Holy Spirit—he will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you.

John 20:22
Then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

How is it that I have anything in common with this amazing trinity of Beings? I can interact with Them but can I truly be like Them? The idea is so much greater than me.

Does God see me as “the Other?” It would appear not.

Genesis 1:27
So God created human beings in his own image.
In the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.

I (we) are created in the image of God. He says so Himself. How can that be? I see such a difference when I compare my behavior with His. I (we) have fallen from a great height, no doubt about it. But still we are created to be like Him. We are not ‘other’ than Him, we are created in His image. The whole of the bible, the coming of Jesus and the gift of the Holy Spirit reinforces for me the truth that God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit are committed to restoring that image and relationship to its former glory.

Do I completely understand it? Do I know how it will be accomplished? Can I wrap my head around all that it entails? No. But I know more than I did, 5, 10, 30 years ago, because He is intent on leading me if I will listen. Have I executed each learning challenge flawlessly? Hardly. But it is worth it to me to keep pushing forward through my incompleteness and lack of understanding to be more like Him. He has made it clear that it is worth the struggle for Him and so it is worth it to me.

Romans 8:18
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

Is God “Other” than me? No. He is the Creator and I am the created, it will always be that way. Yet in His love He saw fit to create me in HIs image. He wants me to be like Him and be in relationship with HIm. It seems it is HIs good pleasure. I want to say, “yes” to that.

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About the Author

Darla wears many hats, one of them being Media Communication Coordinator for CitySalt Church. She is a life long learner, who is always up for a challenge. She is married to her amazing husband, Mark. Though they have no children she enjoys being involved in the lives of her nieces and nephews as their ‘crazy aunt.’

Seeing the Other | Distracted by Identity, Disconnected from Destiny

Like Jonah, I almost missed it.

I believe we all face situations where it seems God calls us to unfavorable places or into uncomfortable situations. Yet, like the Jonah narrative, God is as much at work in the servant as he is in those being served.

Awhile back, I was asked to visit the brother of a person in our congregation. He was losing a long battle with cancer and his loved ones were not sure of the state of his faith. Honestly, I didn’t want to go. I felt overwhelmed by an expectation to pray for healing and salvation, and somehow contrive words that would bring comfort to the struggle and make sense of the suffering. But I went anyway, and happened upon one of the most memorable and tender moments I have ever experienced. The man was not looking for healing. He did not need me to save his soul. He did not expect me to make sense of the struggle or suffering. As I look back, I feel he simply needed someone to join him in the finality of it all, and help re-acquaint him with the God of his youth. After a couple hours of asking questions and listening to him reflect on his life, I invited the man and his wife to simply express their hearts to God in prayer and allow me to join them. What followed was a beautiful, honest, tender expression of worship and trust. In that moment I believe they were reunited with Grace, and this somehow seemed to  prepare and usher him into God’s presence a week later.

The crazy part… I almost missed it.

I was so caught up in what I was supposed to do (as my role as pastor), rather than being confident in who I am called to be (a fellow human bearing the image of Christ). The way I see it, identity serves as an expression of my connectivity to people, but destiny is something altogether different. Destiny is an expression of my connectivity to God. As this experience with a dying man unfolded, it allowed me to see how easily we can all get distracted by our earthly identity, and be disconnected from our kingdom destiny to experience and reflect God in the world around us.

This is not a new struggle.

Do our ever-changing identities, roles or titles artificially define or limit our kingdom contribution? For me, identities such as pastor, father, husband, friend or boss can sometimes hinder God’s unique destiny from finding a more complete and meaningful expression in and through my life. Whether these limitations are self-imposed or placed on me by others, I can become distracted by the role, and disconnect from my greater kingdom calling.

When I look at Jonah, I see his flight to Tarshish as flat out disregard for God's destiny and calling on his life. God invited Jonah to participate in a significant kingdom moment. Jonah almost missed it because of a defined identity, limited to only the Hebrew nation.

As with Jonah, the panic of God calling us to do something outside the confines of our perceived role can cause us to bolt. It can keep us from being available to hear and obey a timely word of direction whispered by the Holy Spirit. As in the case with the dying man, I was struggling with my perceived role as “God’s answer-man,” needing to do something, all the while forgetting my destiny to be a Spirit-filled witness and presence. As I released my “pastor” identity and instead responded as a Christ-follower, available to love and serve, I was pleasantly surprised and energized by God’s work through me.

As you continue your life-long service to God, I invite you to look beyond your roles and reconnect with destiny as a light bearer and witness of God’s love and redemptive good news on the planet. May you not miss the creative and dynamic ways God will bring His Kingdom, through you, in greater measure on the earth, just as it is in heaven.

Matthew 26:37-40 NIV
The Sheep and the Goats
“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

Matthew 5:3-8 NIV
“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.

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About the Author

Dusty serves as our lead pastor. He is a gifted leader, administrator and communicator with a passion to help others grow in their God-given potential. He joined the team as an associate pastor in 2009 and later transitioned to the role of lead pastor in January 2010. Dusty previously served as a youth pastor and director of youth camps and leadership events, for Foursquare churches in the Northwest, at Camp Crestview. He and his wife, Julie, grew up in the area and have three sons and five grandchildren.

Seeing the Other | With New Eyes

In the last year I have entered what seems like a whole different world. It is a world of “The Other.” It has been strange, unpredictable, unsettling, frightening, full of emotional earthquakes, beyond all reason, eye-opening, anger-stirring, empathy-producing …and a stimulus for many, many questions that most often don’t have answers. I’m talking about the world of mental illness.

I saw a man wandering stark halls with very short, jerky but determined steps, as if he had some important place to go. He was bent slightly forward at the waist and stared straight ahead with intense blue eyes. I don’t think I ever saw him blink. He wandered into the room where we were sitting, came right up to me within a foot of my face and just stared, stared and stared right at me. Awkwardly, I said, “hello.” He said nothing in response, there was not the slightest change in his face or posture. There was no sense that he really saw me, though his eyes were open wide. Then the caregiver came and took him away.

I saw a man who was quite bent over and held his head at an angle, looking up. He walked up and down the hall, trying every door handle. I was sure he was trying to get in to steal something. I never saw him go in a room.

I saw a woman locked in a room with terrified eyes like a caged wild animal. She had been physically combative with staff and security and was ready to fight off any other living soul that came near her. She perceived everyone as a threatening enemy. She kind of clawed at the walls and then cowered in a corner.  

I saw a very clean-cut man with perfectly oiled and combed hair and neat clothing. He sat staring for hours at a television screen which was only displaying the titles of songs being played on that music channel. But there was no music, or sound of any kind coming from the TV. Once I saw him doing a kind of jogging routine, barely moving his feet but steadily, if extremely slowly, moving down the sidewalk.

I saw a woman pace the halls back and forth, never saying a word, with a constant look of subtle suspicion on her face. It was not fear, but just a look as if she were a spy in a strange and dangerous foreign land.

I saw a very unkempt and dirty man walking the halls, yelling obscenities and indeterminate gibberish at no one in particular. He sounded angry and looked dangerous even though you couldn’t tell what he was saying.

I saw a woman in a wheelchair who could never find the bathroom, though she had lived in this house for years.

I saw a woman with way too much makeup, applied in the wrong places like a child who couldn’t paint within the lines. She raced up and down the halls.

I saw a man always sitting in the same chair, away by himself but where he could see everyone else. He had the kindest smile on his face and always waved when you passed by. He told me one day, “You gotta do your best every day. You gotta keep a positive attitude.” He could barely walk.

At first I was very unnerved by these people. For sure there was some behavior I don’t even want to write about here. These are the kind of people who, if I saw them coming down the street, I might cross to the other side or at least keep my head down or eyes fixed straight ahead so as not to engage them. They were too unpredictable. What would I say? What could I say? Would they have a sinister motive if they confronted me? Their conditions raised in me so many thoughts…and sometimes subtle, sometimes not so subtle, judgements against them.

I am ashamed of this now.

And why? What has changed in me? This is hard for me to understand and explain, but I do know one thing that has made a deep impact:

I learned that the man who stared at me with the unseeing, piercing, crystal blue eyes was a professional soccer player from Europe in his youth. He sustained brain damage from hitting so many headers in the hundreds of soccer games he played.

I learned that the bent over man checking door handles was a former “fix it” guy who still went through the motions of trying to see how something worked mechanically.

I learned that the silent suspicion-filled woman was actually Russian and couldn’t speak any English. She was doubly isolated in a silent world.

The unkempt man shouting obscenities had been a poor farmer who fell off a tall piece of machinery he was working on, and fell to the ground, landing on his head. He had been living at this house where I met him for 4 years and I was told he would never hurt a fly. And he loved animals.

The woman in the wheelchair has cancer as well as dementia.

And one of these people is my wife.

Everyone has a story. Everyone has a history. Everyone has a family. A childhood. A series of experiences, some good, some bad. I think most people have experienced some kind of trauma or loss in their lives, certainly some more than others. Good things happen to bad people. Bad things happen to good people. Why is this? Can we really know, this side of heaven? With so few answers to these kind of questions, how do we proceed? How do we view “The Other”? How do we interact with them? How do we deal with all the uncertainties?

I don’t know. All I can say is I have been reduced to a kind of compassion I’ve never experienced before. I have learned that if I just look at a person’s outward appearance and behavior, I will see them as objects to defend myself against. If I learn some of their story, I can get at least a bit of a glimpse into their humanness and relate to them there. I no longer see them quite so much as “The Other.”

1 Corinthians 13:12
For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Matthew 7:1-2
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.

Matthew 5:3-4
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

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About the Author

John has been an essential component to the life and development of CitySalt since 2004 and, presently, serves as an associate pastor with a focus on prayer, discipleship and spiritual direction in addition to being a regular part of the teaching team. He and his wife, Laura, have been married since 1977 and enjoy their family of three children and three grandchildren.

Seeing the Other | Love Looks Like Something

Thursday. The fourth grade classroom. You are headed in for your weekly time to help. You walk up and see a boy sitting alone outside in the hall where his desk has been moved. He has a really straggly mullet haircut, his jeans are too short, and he is slouched down. He’s obviously already pushed the teacher far enough to be removed from the class. You are tempted to think, “Phew, I don’t have to deal with him in my reading group today.”

Last week, he was late to your group. He was disruptive from the moment he sat down. He messed with the kid beside him, continually distracting everyone. When it was finally his turn to read, he read surprisingly well. His reading was clear and confident, until suddenly he seemed to lose interest. He began to mumble, and then switched to a funny voice all together. You gave him 2 warnings and then had to move on to the next reader, as he went back to banging his feet against the leg of the table.

He’s on your child’s soccer team. The parents constantly rumble about him. He is overly aggressive and can’t seem to really control his body. He too often escalates to tears, which is frustrating, or anger, which honestly is concerning. Someone has to always have an eye on him. In practice or on the sidelines, he is pushing kids and distracting the team or sulking by himself. You watch him walk up and pretend to give your child a high five, and then kick him in the shin guard instead. Your child has already told you he hates when he does this.

He is awkward and never knows what to say. He is so moody. He is so much work. It is so tempting to wish he wasn’t in your child’s classroom, that you didn’t coach the soccer team, that you didn’t have to put in the time and patience it takes to just be around him.

But you know. You know his story. You know his Mom, whom you’ve never met, had 3 kids before him whom she lost to the state. You know that he was taken from her, for his safety, when he was just born. You don’t know her and realize your heart would probably break for her story too, but every day you see the impact of it on him. His Grandma has told you how he never sees her, and how he cries himself to sleep almost every night missing her. You watch as about twice a year he smiles all day, his face glowing, because she has promised to pick him up from school. And that she has always called and canceled right before school is out. You’ve seen his face as his grandma walks in to tell him the news. Disappointed once again.

You know. You know that earlier this year, she had another baby, whom she was able to keep. He doesn’t understand. Why can the new baby be with his Mom? Why does she want the baby and not him? And you know that in reading group, he was reading along with a strong voice until he came to the part talking about a Mom making a snack for her son. When he started reading that part, he couldn’t do it, and to hide his tears he started being disruptive and changed the subject back to his behavior yet again. That’s easier than the pain.

You know his Dad, who struggles with agoraphobia & PTSD, has such a fear of life and people and the world, that he doesn’t often leave his house. His Dad often gets triggered when he is out in public, and has outbursts that are scary and embarrassing for his son. The boy knows his Dad loves him, but can’t handle him. When he is with his Dad, he walks on eggshells.

He has been raised by his Grandma, who loves him and does her best, but is tired. She already raised her children, and has to work full time, and has health problems that limit her ability to move and erode her patience.  

And again, you know the result of this. You know he is heartbroken. You know he is also hard work. He is disruptive, and socially awkward. He doesn’t pay attention, he seems to want to get in trouble, and he is rarely approachable. You are tempted to avoid him, to be relieved when you don’t have to interact. To sigh in frustration when he is being difficult, and to be relieved when it’s time to leave him.

But you’ve known him since he started kindergarten with your child. You’ve seen glimpses, few and far between, of his heart. His tenderness used to leak through before he learned to cover it so well.  His sad tears used to fall before he learned to change the subject. He used to try, before the patterns and the self-defenses started kicking in, taking over automatically.

What will happen to him? It’s hard to say. The road he has started down is a tough one. And what can you do? You aren’t around him enough to have a major impact on his behavior. You know your direct influence on him is only here and there.

But you believe love looks like something.  

So you’ve prayed for him. You’ve asked God what He is doing, how you can partner with Him to love this child. You can’t “save him” and know you are limited. But God! God asks you to love the one in front of you, to see the other. And that is him. So what does that look like, you wonder?

And God has shown you. He told you to pay attention. And He showed you the gold He has put in even this child. You’ve seen, after someone walks away, the sulky defensive look lift off his face and sometimes he smiles. You’ve caught him daydreaming, and asked him what he thinks about. You’ve listened to his response. You have decided to relate to him at his potential, not his behavior, and you’ve seen him rise up to the challenge. You’ve noticed him, smiled at him, made sure to say hello to him by name. And it breaks your heart that these small, little acts of love have made a difference. You see the sponge of his heart soak them up, not always trusting them, but desperate to receive any drop. Desperate to believe he can be seen, he is valuable, that he is worthy of love. You’ve seen love at work. And it’s broken your heart and humbled you.

And God is so good. He’s also shown you how others are doing the same. God loves this child, and has surrounded him by people who are willing to see the other, to not disregard even this child. God has shown you that this child is not your responsibility, he is God’s, and that you get to trust that. But also you’ve seen the proof that love looks like something! And when we stop to see the other, the one in front of us, and we are willing to play a part in God’s love, that it matters!

Thank you, God, for giving us eyes to see the other. Let us live a life that sees the ones right in front of us. Thank You for this child. And for so many like him in the world. They are desperate for love. And love looks like something. Thank You that as we listen to you and are willing to say yes, that we can participate in love that makes a difference. Give us your heart for the one in front of us.  Thank You.

“Ministry, however, is simply loving the person in front of you. It’s about stopping for the one and being the very fragrance of Jesus to a lost and dying world.”  –Heidi Baker

John 15:12
“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”

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About the Author

Pam is a fun and encouraging team-builder that brings the best to those around her. She loves young people and is committed to serving and mentoring kids with opportunities to grow closer to God and each other.  She joined our staff team in 2012 and oversees the ministry of ages from birth to eighth grade. Pam and her husband, Jared, have been married since 2005 and have three boys.

Seeing the Other | Not as the Other

Ephesians 4:1-3
Unity in the Body of Christ
I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

My youngest child is in a really amazing preschool program. The kids play a lot, they do crafts, and they dance. They are supervised and guided, but given freedom to express their unique, developing character. There are many reasons why I am so grateful for the experience he is having.

I have been lucky to have some really good conversations with his head teacher. She is passionate about education, studies education, observes, contemplates and believes in the natural process of learning. She is a wise, studious, strong and patient person and I have developed a lot of respect for her through our conversations. As a woman of color and a mother, she has been faced with too many unnecessary, ignorant and hurtful situations. I wonder, how can we get her running a diversity program in all schools? How can I play a supportive role? We need to hear from her, our kids need to see her leading.

In preparing myself to write something about “seeing the other”, I came across this study about how being exposed to people of all body shapes and sizes makes us more comfortable around all different body types. Of course. We know we are being mentally trained to prefer “skinny and tall” when we flip through magazines, watch shows, commercials and clothing ads. What then must be happening when we flip though our history books in elementary school and memorize the presidents, the leaders of our country? How do we present this to our youth, to our students? Diversity, or lack of diversity, needs to be addressed. In this era, kids of all ages should be taught about changing this and given history lessons on women of color who have been scientists and astronauts, politicians and great doctors, engineers and writers, film directors and teachers. How do we expect anything to change if we don’t address it head on?

My son’s teacher was asked how she would approach racism in a classroom:
“I talk with individual children, and I later follow up with a group discussion facilitating open ended questions about respect, diversity, tolerance, and a small glimpse of US history.

I have also read picture books that talk about different skin complexions where they are celebrated but have a message of us all being connected as human beings. I teach art projects on skin colors where children can make self portraits using colors that they choose that represents how they see themselves. Or just a small circle time, everybody laying on their tummies, sticking their hands in the middle, and looking at all the shades we are, allowing dialogue to take place of what differences they notice, and why those differences exist.

My favorite preschool book to use with any age is The Colors of Us by Karen Katz. If children as young as two can recognize physical differences, then they are old enough to learn about positive perspectives on skin color (in a developmentally appropriate fashion, of course).”

While it is so important to open hearts and minds as Jesus’ exemplified, we must also be dedicated enough to take the time to listen to "the other" and be humble enough to lift them up into leadership roles so that all our children can grow up with these examples and be naturally comfortable around people of color who really shouldn’t even be seen as “the other”. Truly, those we deem as "other" are our neighbors, our friends and our family. They should more often be our coworkers, our bosses, our teachers, and our role models.

Similar to “seeing the other”, Jesus says “love your neighbor”. Consider this review of what Jesus said about loving our neighbor http://www.christianbiblereference.org/jneighbr.htm :
“In His sermons and parables, Jesus seeks to shock us out of our selfishness and worldliness and create in us a true passion for the welfare of our fellow men, women and children around the world. Universal love is at the very heart of Jesus' teachings; it is God's earthly work for us.

What matters to God is our love for Him and our love for each other. Wealth, power and status count for nothing in the kingdom of God. When we truly love our neighbors, we do our part to make the world a better place, and we find our own fulfillment in life.”

If diversity hasn’t found its way into your daily life, seek it out with love, respect and intention. I assure you, there is no lack of amazing people of color, it is a history that lingers on and presents division in our present day life. Without intention, we will not break the divide. We must ask ourselves, are “wealth, power and status” guiding our actions or inactions? And if “universal love… is God’s earthly work for us” what are we doing to assure that it is spread amongst us all? Furthermore, are we lifting up those who have been held back? Are we supporting those that have been unfairly treated? Are we assuring that our children see “the other” with the heart and love of God? In this present day, I believe it takes more than teaching kindness. If “the other” is not visible, how will we ever see them?

I know my son is growing and developing in such a beautiful way through this preschool program. Additionally, it provides a framework for my son to see the world and acknowledge the beauty in its fullness.

Ephesians 4:15-16
Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.

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About the Author

Leona is a wife, mother and traveler who is intrigued by how different people live. Her latest project is exploring ways that different walks of life can simplify, in order to live a fulfilling journey.

Seeing the Other | When We Were Young

“Tattoos and no-tattoos can be friends,” my 5-year-old daughter interjects into our small group’s conversation about tattoos on a Tuesday evening.

Yes, I assure her, we can be friends with people who look different from us.

We live in divided and divisive times. We can categorize our neighbors into endless groups. Red states and blue states. Christians and “non-believers.” Protestant and Catholic. Evangelical and mainline Protestant. Blue collar and white collar. Black Lives Matter and Blue Lives Matter.

I met my childhood best friend when she invited me to her sixth birthday party, as we stood together on the steps outside our elementary school. She was friendly and open in that way that only young children can be. I eagerly accepted the invitation and began a friendship that would last through high school and into the early years of college.

She was brown-skinned and I was white. Race wasn’t something we ever talked about, unless she brought it up in a joking way. “I don’t like white people,” she sometimes said, “except you and my mom.” She called herself a Nigerian princess.

I remember lots of sleepovers, Michael Jackson dance contests, endless rounds of Monopoly. I remember playing soccer in the Oregon rain. I remember going to see the Dave Matthews Band play in the Gorge, and the time the WOW Hall advertised our theater troupe on the same poster as a Slick Rick show. I remember writing rap songs for the band we started in third grade, and in college when our drunk friend got locked in a dorm room stairwell overnight. I remember never laughing so much as I did with her.

I don’t remember ever asking my best friend about race, about what it was like to be one of the only brown-skinned kids in our school. Was it hard for her? If it was, she never let me know. Our high school group was a microcosm of diversity for Eugene, with three of my closest friends being ethnic minorities with immigrant parents from Nigeria, Korea, and Mexico.  

Our friendship ended as suddenly and inexplicably as it began, with her one day choosing to stop returning my calls without any falling out or slow drifting away.

In college and beyond, my friendships seem to have become more and more homogenous. We are a 99 percent white, upwardly mobile, advanced degree holding, NPR-listening group of folks. We like to talk about social justice. We have backyard chickens and drink kombucha. We go to church, or used to before becoming disillusioned with organized religion. If we do have tattoos, they are discrete.

I tell myself that my friends are similar to me because I don’t have many opportunities to get to know people who are different. But is that entirely true?

Matthew 5:14-15 (NLT)
“You are the light of the world — like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house.” 

It’s certainly easier to be friends with people who share similar backgrounds and interests as ourselves. But Jesus calls us to be a light to the world, something I can’t do if I remain cloistered in my kombucha-drinking, NPR-listening corner of the church. For my part, I want to be more intentional about widening my circle of acquaintances to include more diversity of race, religion, socioeconomic status and sexual orientation. Within the Church as a whole, we also need to do a better job of promoting dialogue between Christians with different political views and scriptural interpretations.

I wish I could go back to the openness of childhood, when it was so easy to make friends with anyone regardless of what they looked like or who their parents were. Fourteen years after my friendship with my Nigerian princess best friend ended, it still hurts to write about her. I wish we could go back to being friends like we used to be, but time has changed us, and we can’t ever go back to that place we stood, two first graders on the steps outside our elementary school, fulfilling Martin Luther King’s dream without even knowing.

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About the Author

Ursula and her husband Spencer have two young children, and their family enjoys playing hide-and-seek and dancing in the living room. She works as a communications and events coordinator with the University of Oregon. You can read more from Ursula at motherbearblog.com.

Seeing the Other | Love Your Enemies

I don’t like people, until I meet them.

I’m not proud of this. I want to be a person who loves as Jesus loved, unconditionally and across all kinds of borders.

A decade in animal protection—watching videos of humans doing things to animals that will haunt my twilight thoughts until the day I die—taught me to be skeptical of the possibility of goodness in a person, to believe that everyone was capable of horrific violence and sadistic cruelty.

Well, that’s what I tell myself. But I think I’ve always been a little too sure of my own right-ness.

Social media and internet silos that are designed to show me more of what I like and agree with haven’t helped matters. I eat a bland digital diet of confirmation bias, gobbling up the videos and articles and memes that reinforce my existing opinions. I engage with online friends who echo my own existing views and, too often, quickly dismiss dissenting voices.

Through what I consume, I train myself to pass judgement on vast swaths of the human population. Proponents of the political party that I don’t usually vote for? Dumb. Members of a religious order not my own? Probably brainwashed. People who view [fill in the blank hotbutton socio-political issue] differently than I do? They’ll see the light eventually. I really don’t like people…but then I meet them.

The generous, happy-go-lucky neighbor who holds views far from my own. He helped my husband identify a fulfilling business opportunity. The encouraging, patient gym coach who wears a different kind of #_____LivesMatter t-shirt than I do. She takes time after class to show me how I can improve my range of motion and strength. The old high school friend who predictably comments on every article about guns I post. He makes some valid points sometimes.

Shortly after football player Michael Vick was arrested for dog-fighting, I sat in a room with him for eight hours as he took a course on empathy for animals that I developed. We even did a Bible study together, since he identified as a Christian. I knew the terrible things he had been involved in, but was able to connect on a human level and felt no particular ill-will toward him.

Jesus understood the power of human connection. In the Sermon on the Mount, he is recorded as telling his listeners to go so far as to leave the altar if, in the middle of giving their gift, they realized they had an outstanding rift. Reconciliation and right relationship among the community was a higher priority that regulations or religious rituals.

“Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.” It’s an astonishing and impossible ask. And the instructions that precede it press into the need for relationship especially with people we are prone to hate. If someone strikes you, give them your other cheek. If someone sues you for your coat, give them your cloak, too. If someone forces you to carry their pack one mile, carry it for two. And give to everyone who begs from you. (Matthew 5:38-42). How many times have I breezily lied to men and women begging outside of Union Station, or Fred Meyer: “Sorry, I don’t carry cash!”

In his book, Engaging the Powers, Walter Wink suggests that in telling his followers to turn the other cheek, give our cloak, and walk the second mile, Jesus is discipling us in the way of nonviolent engagement. Turning the other cheek “robs the oppressor of the power to humiliate” and offers a chance at redemption. Giving our cloak shames a system that would allow a wealthy person to literally take the shirt off the back of the poor. And walking a second mile carrying the pack of a Roman soldier, brutal occupiers of Palestine, helps “oppressed people find a way to protest and neutralize an onerous practice.” Each of these methods of nonviolent resistance not only restores dignity to the one who is shamed or oppressed, but also offers an opportunity for the oppressor to regain their own humanity.

Ethicists Glen Stassen and David Gushee look at these same texts of Matthew in their book Kingdom Ethics and posit that Jesus’ commands here to turn the other cheek, give a creditor your cloak, and carry the pack a second mile are “transforming initiatives” that help Jesus followers break out of old paradigms. Rather than violent retaliation, or passivity, we’re to take nonviolent action to resist evil.  

So, where does that leave me, with my propensity for judgement and dismissal, for distance from the people and situations that make me angry or uncomfortable simply out of my own sense of self-righteousness? How do I resist the temptation to surround myself with the people and ideas that reinforce my ideas of justice? How do I even begin to break down these border walls between me and the people that I am so eager to “other”?

I am fortunate to work with people who are smarter and more compassionate than I am. One of them helped start The People’s Supper, a way of connecting across difference over a shared meal. Another helps lead tours to important Civil Rights historical sites, to help equip the church to live into our biblical call to be ambassadors of reconciliation. I learn a lot from them, mostly by listening. I need to do a lot of listening.

And I’m spending less time online and more time with flesh-and-blood people. Because I love everyone, once I meet them.

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About the Author

Sarah Withrow King is the author of Vegangelical: How Caring for Animals Can Shape Your Faith (Zondervan, 2016) and Animals Are Not Ours (No, Really, They’re Not): An Evangelical Animal Liberation Theology (Cascade Books, 2016). She spends her days working for Evangelicals for Social Action and CreatureKind, helping Christians put their faith into action. She lives in Eugene with her husband, son, and animal companions and enjoys action movies, black coffee, the daily crossword, and dreaming of her next international journey.

Seeing the Other | Sometimes Feeling Like the Other

I think we’ve all felt it. The sudden flood of heat spreading across our face, the grip of queasiness in our stomach, our breath changing to a shallow pattern. The instant feeling of isolation and vulnerability that can come with feeling foreign and alone even amidst a crowd; feeling like “the other”.

Although not always this dramatic, even a slow, subtle process of accepting incorrect beliefs and wrong assumptions can result in feeling apart and detached. I am learning that the lie of feeling alone and helpless is a harsh but effective motivation to reach out to Jesus Christ immediately in prayer and worship. My life experience is also teaching me that my troubled spirit is soothed and healed when I remember to face my battles against the lie of isolation together with Jesus. And I’m still learning that my victory lies in not wasting time facing these moments of battle outside of the presence of Jesus. As long as I live knowing I belong to Jesus, I have the complete sense of true belonging and security that I need.

There can be tremendous value in feeling like the other; this experience can teach us to more quickly see and reach out to others. We point them to Jesus with a spoken word of greeting or the listening ear of understanding which can go a long way toward breaking the lie of isolation. I know that I have felt let out of prison at times with a phone call from a friend or an invitation to sit with a friend at church instead of sitting alone. This reminds me that I am very much a part of the infinitely large family of God. I am so very thankful that the dynamic of “the other” does not exist in the kingdom of God. Quoting a much-respected pastor, in God’s Kingdom “Everyone is welcome, everyone is needed”.

Isaiah 58:9 NKJV
“Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and He will say: Here am I.”

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About the Author

Sara Gore has attended CitySalt Church since 2004, the year it was founded. She studied Journalism, wrote for her college newspaper, and is a member of Oregon Christian Writers. Sara also enjoys singing hymns with friends: “there is a sermon in every hymn waiting to be discovered and enjoyed.”

Seeing the Other | Back Pain (and Our Brains)

This title is a play on words, but appropriate here. Circumstantial change is a constant in our lives, but at least for me, growth in the Lord frequently seems hard, stuttered, and full of re-learning (sigh, another lap around the mountain, Lord). We encounter pain – emotional pain that produces behavior so ingrained, that like backyard blackberries, it’s so hard to eradicate - even over a lifetime. It’s past pain that affects our present.

Recently I came across a science special on PBS that dealt with memory. They said that brain scientists are expanding their traditional idea of our brains simply being a library full of memories. We go in, walk down an aisle, open up a book and remember.

Now they understand it’s not just our memories, but MEMORY in general. It’s EVERYTHING we have ever encountered through any of our senses, and the resulting feelings felt and thoughts thought. It’s the vast and complex sum total of it all – the behaviors learned that affect us today. Regardless if we can’t recall the origins (we know that trauma victims can absolutely block out memories).

Also beyond the library analogy, our brains are in a continual state of organic flux - constantly growing new cells, neurons and pathways today, as we access and merge both past memories and new information (age and non-use can also diminish the brain’s physiology, as us old guys can attest).

Yes, behavioral change can be so hard for us. It’s not like we’re erasing a memory from a hard drive and simply replacing it with something else. Old memories and behaviors die hard because they are learned, practiced, and ingrained with our present-day encounters.  We literally have to relearn HOW to change. And we have to be truly convinced that our new way will be a less painful route to take.

I just LOVED the recent comments by Britni D’Eliso on shame (versus guilt). Shame is so much more dangerous because beyond behavior, it’s identity based – more intricately woven into the fabric of who we perceive we are (or who we are LIED to and led to believe we are). It’s “You Are” versus “You Did”.

We are all so much social creatures, and relationships are where we encounter most of our pain – with the resulting cues on how to act in self-defense. It seems to me that if we are to truly change our destructive behaviors and re-map our brains, it will only come as we participate, with kindness and compassion, in an emotional environment where we feel secure and safe.

And I am not just thinking about the church body here, but everyone else we touch “out there”. To me, compassion to everyone I don’t understand, like or agree with is an essential skill because it allows me to extend grace to first myself, then others when I encounter my pain.

2 Corinthians 5:17 (The Message)
“Now we look inside, and what we see is that anyone united with the Messiah gets a fresh start, is created new. The old life is gone, a new life burgeons! Look at it!”

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About the Author

Terry Sheldon is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Seeing the Other | When Your Blinders Get Ripped Off in a Gas Station

The gas station is just a half mile from our house on Island Rd. Of all the modest looking Shells out there, with dirt and exhaust visibly creeping up the sun-bleached yellow signage, this one is perhaps the most forgotten by its corporate overlords. Still, the dingy fueling station sits against a backdrop of pristine forest and glowing blue mountains: a vision of natural beauty that makes even the locally despised Dollar General next door seem almost pleasant.

It was late afternoon when I left my car filling up at pump number two and slipped inside the minimart to collect a bottle of Wildcraft cider for a dinner party later that evening (a posh beverage that they inexplicably carry, defying both the absurd remoteness of our location and the dingy obscurity of this tiny gas station store.)

There I am with my snooty cider in line, but no one in front of me is going anywhere. It seems the girl at the front of the line is chatting with a middle aged woman behind the cash register. The cashier has glasses and stringy, damp-looking curls. Her long nails are cheerfully bedazzled, making tiny clacking sounds as she lifts items off the counter. Some gum, a Snapple. Several brightly packaged Airheads. I squirm in my spot in line, impatient to get back out to my car. I can hear the cashier talking to the young woman checking out.

“Is the radiator fixed yet?” The cashier looks up over her glasses at the young woman. The girl sheepishly leans to one side, fidgeting with her long dark hair that’s piled on her head in a messy bun.

“They said it would be ready later this week.”

“Did you really have to walk all the way from Callahan?” The cashier glances at the young woman with eyebrows raised, an expression that makes me think they must be related biologically, or at least socially. “Did you talk to your dad while you were out there?”

“Yeah,” the young woman replies. “I cussed him out the whole way for not helping me. I had to walk halfway back to Etna before someone picked me up.”

Their conversation drags on about the car repair and I suddenly have to pee. Social hour at the gas station is wearing my nerves thin, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll have time to whip up a side dish before my dinner party. I imagine the girl in front of me trudging down Highway 3 in her slipper boots and sweatpants, yelling at her father into her giant sparkly-cased cellphone: a sight that seems eye-rollingly familiar in this area.

“Did you actually pass by the spot?” The cashier leans toward the young woman, pulling down her spectacles to look the girl straight in the eye.

“I stopped by the place it happened.” The young woman smiled, “I told my dad that I wish he was still around to help me fix the car. If he were alive I would have never overheated the radiator, so I joked with him that it was really his fault I had to walk.”

“Your dad would have never let a radiator get overheated.” The cashier murmurs. “I’m glad you cussed him out for leaving us so early.”

Both women laugh and the girl finishes paying for her snacks. When she leaves it’s my turn to pay for my cider, but instead of stepping up I blink stupidly at the cashier, stunned.

“Bummer her car broke down.” I remark lamely, setting the cider on the counter and fishing awkwardly in my bag for my wallet.

“Her dad was killed in a car accident last year,” the cashier says casually.

“I’m so sorry.”

“She’s a tough kid.”

We wrap up our transaction and I step out of the minimart into the brilliant sunshine. I am squinting, blindsided both by brightness of the afternoon and by the reality of my astounding ignorance about the people all around me.

I may not think of myself as a judgmental person, but perhaps worse than the snap judgements and the moral shortcuts is just the fact that I can go throughout my day without actually seeing anyone else at all. Every day, stories I can’t even begin to understand are spinning all around me in the lives of the people just outside the periphery of my vision. Only when I collide with a small, yet profound piece of someone’s story do I even notice others exist.

Perhaps the most confused Jesus’ disciples become in the New Testament is whenever Jesus is talking about who is the most important in his kingdom. Jesus was constantly welcoming little children, connecting with the poor and those with unflattering career choices: Jesus said his kingdom was among the marginalized.

I totally empathize with the disciples, I can see how Jesus’ apparent lack of focus could drive a disciple insane! How will children enact the 12 step plan to reconquer Israel from the Romans? How will tax collectors and prostitutes present an on-brand message for our trendy new platform? Why does Jesus always stop in the middle of key publicity events to heal one of those obnoxious poor people?

Don’t we have more important things to do, Jesus?

Jesus’ actions don’t make sense unless we understand what Timothy Keller calls the “upside down kingdom.” While the “right side up kingdom” of normal people are driven by the here-and-now demands of their comfort, power, and security, Jesus acts with radical compassion and self-sacrifice because he knows that his eternal comfort, power, and security are safe with God.

Our natural inclination is the right side up kingdom, which is wrapped up in task lists and agendas attempting to secure our finite, temporary place in this ever shifting world. It’s what Solomon called in Ecclesiastes, “chasing the wind.” Inversely, Jesus’ inclination is always moving towards the people who’s hearts are open to love like flowers opening to the sun. It’s like he did everything throughout his day with one eye scanning the crowd for somebody on which to shower the love of God.

When I’m stand in a dingy old gas station, or the grocery store, or the park with my kids, there is another plane of existence occurring at the same time. In this kingdom the dinner party dishes, fancy ciders, laundry that needs switching, or other tasks that need doing are far less important than the eternal souls all around me. My prayer is that the Holy Spirit would open my eyes in the way that they were suddenly jarred awake that afternoon at the Shell station-that I could see people the way he sees them.

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About the Author

Allie Hymas is a mother, writer, and textile enthusiast raising two kids and a little herd of Icelandic Sheep with her husband Justin in Etna, California. Allie is passionate about worshipping God through music and gathering people around delicious food.

Allie is a guest worship leader for our church.