This reflection represents my thoughts as I look back on my summer in Goldsboro.  Thanks to all of you who have read with interest and given feedback.  I'm thankful to have a group of friends and family that are supportive and encouraging along this journey of mine.  I do plan on continuing to update this page as I go back to class at Dook this fall.  The updates will not be as frequent, but I will check in at least once a month to let everyone who's interested know what's going on with me.  Happy reading, and may God bless each of you.   

   

   Young men can have big growth spurts. Boys hit theirs a little later than most girls do, but when guys grow, they grow a great deal at the time. During the summer after I finished the 6^th grade and before I moved on to the 7^th, I hit a big growth spurt. I went from a size 9 ½ shoe to a size 12 in about 3 months. My shoe size was the same as my age. My legs got long, I was skinny (I wish I knew what happened to that), and my Dad was complaining long and loud about the grocery bill. It took me awhile to grow into that, to get used to my size and these big feet that were nowhere close to proportional to the rest of me. Gradually, over the course of several years I grew into this new found size, but it was awkward getting there (some say I never fully recovered).

   As I’ve reflected on this summer, now that I’m twice as old as I was when I hit that first growth spurt (24 vs. 12), I have found some striking similarities between that summer and my experiences in Goldsboro this summer. I have had a spiritual growth spurt. It has not been easy. There has been pain, uncertainty, anxiety, great joy, happiness, and excitement in my growth. My outlook on this world, on politics, on society, on the Church, and on my faith has changed drastically. My vision is clearer now than it ever has been. In gaining that clearer vision, however, I have had to lose many old ways of thinking. That is not always easy. We all have perspectives that we have become quite accustomed to; we have come to rely on them, to trust them like old friends. And so, when our worldview is shaken and becomes something new, it means letting go of things we have learned to hold onto tightly.

   I thank God for my new vision. A few Sundays ago, after Pentecost, Rev. Barber preached about the "fire of the Spirit." In Acts 2, the Spirit descends on the heads of those gathered in the form of fire. He compared the fire of the Spirit on the head to a light that clicks on in the darkness, showing you a new reality, a new way to think. Think of the lights that miners wear on their hats. The fire of the Spirit resting on your head acts in this way, showing you a way in a place where you had previously been stumbling, it shows you the way to go and what the landscape really looks like. You no longer have to feel your way around in the dark—you can see things for what they are and stride along confidently, experiencing your surroundings in their fullness. The light shines on an entirely new reality. His sermon was not long--the Spirit descended upon us. I found myself at the altar, along with almost everyone else who was there. I was no longer a minister or worship leader, I was simply a worshipper. I found myself at the altar, sobbing, thanking God for my new vision, for the fire of the Spirit, for the light showing me the path ahead. I began to see what has really happened to me this summer.

   I’ve been reading Walter Wink’s The Powers That Be, a mind-blowing yet rational look at the teachings of Jesus and the forces at work in this world that oppose the will of God. Wink speaks clearly about confronting the oppressive forces at work in our society and the institutions in our world that are not only failing their divinely ordered purpose, but acting in the opposite way, to harm God’s people. Wink’s book is clear, concise, and life-altering. He opens the door to a theological room that remains closed in many pulpits. His description of the transformation that comes with following Jesus completely, unabashedly and unashamed, is honest and confronting.  I know of no other commentary on the Christian life that is as honest about what it means to follow Jesus. It has been helpful in the context of my experiences here because I have been awakened to these forces in our society that are acting in opposition to what God has revealed in his Word and in Christ himself. I’ve seen a School Board that acts in the opposite of its function: to better educate children. I see now a country that allows rich white men to fight wars about money on the backs of poor minorities, young people who are seeking only a fraction of what this country has promised them. I see a Church that needs a wholesale shift, to try and actually follow the example of Jesus instead of acting out exclusion and hypocrisy under the cloak of religious pietism. There are just a few examples. When you pay attention, when you take the time to look closely, it is easy to see the vicious cycles of injustice and subjugation in our society.  The picture is not as pretty when you look at it up close. This new way of thinking and seeing is a conversion of sorts. It has forced me to see the error in my old vision, to admit that I was not seeing clearly. It is amazingly difficult to admit fault; I've found it more difficult to admit ignorance.

   I was reading another of Wink’s books, Jesus and Nonviolence: A Third Way, when I read a line that captured exactly what my conversion has been. It is only natural "that we do not want to have to change our lives to bring about justice. The hardest moment comes when our own internal oppressor meets the outside reality it supports. It is not out there, but in me, that the oppressor must die." How gloriously convicting. There is a great peace in leaving the old shell of your self behind. It is relief, it is joy, it is cathartic, it is humbling, it is freeing, it is redemption through Jesus, plain and simple. This summer I have left behind the old me, the one who was afraid to engage the Spirit that was nudging me toward something different, something that would cause me to change.  I was forced to lay down comfort and move toward a radical life of proclaiming a gospel others may not be prepared to hear.  I've realized that unless you have made the change in your life in order to bring about the justice that Wink refers to, you allow an internal oppressor to live and injustice is perpetuated by your refusal to act. This type of conversion, this new vision, is a part of the most extreme converstion.  While I wanted justice for all of God’s people, I was not prepared to change who I was to bring that about before this experience. I did not realize that by resisting this conversion I was a supporter of an outside reality that is seemingly consumed with injustice and violence. Discovering your "internal oppressor" is a sobering revelation; I hope that mine is dead. I believe it is—the fire of the Spirit is on my head.

   As I leave here, I add Rev. Barber and the congregation at Greenleaf Christian Church to a long list of people who have played a vital role in raising me in the faith and cultivating my call. God has spoken clearly to me this summer. I knew when I came here that God has given me gifts for ministry.  Be clear, I'm not bragging—we are all given gifts, mine happen to be for pastoral ministry. I can speak and write in a way that affects people; I take no pride in that, for it is only God working through me. Until this summer, I had no focus for those gifts. I had no clear sense of what it is God is preparing me for or what responsibility I had been given. God has said clearly to me this summer, "Stop playing with your gifts! The days are over when you can rest on the gifts you have, admiring them like trophies on your mantle, basking in the praise of others. I have designs for you. Those gifts are not for you; they are to be used for my purposes, for my children." It seems clear to me now: I was raised in an incredible family, nurtured by a loving congregation, shaped by a dynamic pastor (David Shirey), mentored by two loving pastors in my college years and early days at Duke (Kathy Reinger and Dan Webster), taught by some of the world’s greatest theological minds (at Duke Divinity School), and this summer I sat at the feet of one of God’s most powerful prophets, Rev. Barber. By the light of the fire, I can see that these experiences are not for nothing. They are not for me to admire, but to use.  To whom much is given, much is expected. God is preparing me for something. I am done underestimating that. I am done playing with my gifts. God has blessed me with a wonderful experience, but it is not without its responsibilities. The rest of my life will be about bearing that responsibility, making use of what God has given me, and I am already thanking God for it.

   Just like that physical growth spurt, it will be awkward getting adjusted to this new person that I am. But eventually, I will catch up. I will adjust to this person that I am and learn how to act in accordance with it, to use this training and knowledge and experience for the purpose God has given my life. And when that happens, when I grow into this new person that I am, when I learn to see only by the fire of the Spirit, then, well . . . I'm reminded of this story Rev. Dan Webster (Dan, many thanks) shared with me a few weeks ago.  It describes what my conversion has been, and what it's like when you're finally ready to follow Jesus.

   There is an old story about a saint named Abbot Joseph, one of the spiritual masters of the fourth century who were known as the desert fathers. Abbot Joseph was in charge of a large community of monks living in the desert, and his main job was to instruct the young monks who came to him for spiritual guidance.  One day one of the monks came to see him, clearly forlorn.  He had followed all the rules, done everything right, but still he felt there was something missing.  "Father," he said to Abbot Joseph, "according as I am able, I keep my little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, meditation and contemplative silence; and according as I am able I strive to cleanse my heart of thoughts.  Now what more should I do?"  Abbot Joseph rose up in reply and stretched out his hands to heaven, and his fingers became like ten lamps of fire.  He said, "Why not be totally changed into fire?" Indeed.  Why not?

**This entry was written on July 29, but I'm just getting around to posting it.

           This week has been a tremendous blessing.  We had our final area group meeting (Duke students are required to meet three times through the course of the summer with other students in the area and an advisor.  We talk and share experiences throughout the day.) on Thursday, and we spent some time with one of my fellow students who is working with FLOC (Farm Labor Organizing Committee) in Wayne Co.  They are an advocacy group for the rights of Hispanic farm workers, and there is a branch in Wayne Co.  They are the organizers of the Mt. Olive Pickle Boycott, which is designed to force Mt. Olive to do what it can to improve the conditions of the laborers who harvest their cucumbers.  Many migrant workers live in subhuman conditions.  Their housing is unsafe and unsanitary, their working conditions are extreme, and their quality of life is poor, to say the least.  The statistics are staggering.  The average farmworker makes $7500 a year, between $3.30 and $4.20 an hour.  How is this possible?  Farm laborers are exempt from or have a different standard from most labor laws, including minimum wage, overtime, child labor, the right to organize, and more.  FLOC meets with the workers to find out how they can improve their conditions and to educate them about their rights under the law.  FLOC in Wayne Co. has faced great opposition from growers and from the pickle company who refuse to spend the time or money to make the conditions fair.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing about the things they have encountered; all of this conflict, and it would cost consumers about $3.85 a year to increase farm worker wages by 50%.  The information we were shown painted a depressing picture.  The situation in NC among farm workers is modern day slavery.  While I left there depressed and disturbed, I was thankful for the education I got.  These are the types of things more churches should be aware of in their communities; these situations could be changed if we proclaimed more clearly our concern for the rights of human beings and stopped obsessing over what it costs to treat people fairly. . .

On Saturday, I finally got to Raleigh to see Fahrenheit 9/11.  They finally agreed to show the film here in Goldsboro this week, though the News Argus printed an attack on the movie in the editorial section of the paper last week.  I thought it was irresponsible that the newspaper would print an opinion piece on the movie, when any reader would have to drive an hour to see it and form his or her own opinion.  But then that’s the News Argus in a nutshell.  The movie is gripping, to say the least.  I have mixed feelings about Michael Moore.  He is portraying an opinion and a perspective that is too often obscured by the mainstream media.  He certainly shows footage in the movie that we have not seen from other media outlets.  There are times when his commentary and presentation distract from his message, which I think is unfortunate.  Love him or hate him, the questions and issues he raises must be answered.   It is a must see, whether you’re a George W. fan or not.  The film is more than an attack on Bush—whether or not Moore intended it to be is beside the point.  The larger themes in the movie demonstrate a sickness in our country.  The continued willingness for the upper and middle classes to subjugate the lower/middle economic classes is disturbing, and you see it up close in Fahrenheit 9/11.  The facts about Bush’s economic ties to Saudi oil investors aside, the sad truth revealed in the movie is that our democracy is bought no matter who the candidate is—you simply cannot run for President without receiving cash from special interest groups.  Bush just happens to have loyalties that could influence American foreign policy.  And so, unless you have the money to buy the President’s loyalty, your needs have little chance of being met.  That is a non-partisan issue both sides should be alarmed by.  If we ever want more than a choice between bad and worse, the people will have to demand more from their politicians, they will have to demand some sort of change to the system that allows policy to be purchased.  I can feel this country beginning to groan from the unrest that our government has created.  The next couple of months should be very interesting.  I’ll say this: go see the movie.  Don’t listen to what the news or newspapers have to say or take someone else’s opinion as your own without having seen it.  Go see it with an open mind, and then form an opinion.

          I was also able to spend some time in Wilmington this week.  I drove down on Sunday (7/25) afternoon after worship, to go to a party that was being held for David and Jennie Shirey.  David was the pastor at FCC-Wilmington from the time I was 9 until just after I graduated high school.  The Shireys’ ministry at our church was dynamic, and it was good to see two people who had a profound impact on my growth in the faith.  David’s pastoral model will always shape my own sense of vocation, and so it was good to talk to him now that I am learning and growing into the ministry.  I am very lucky to have a great many mentors that can act as sounding boards along this journey I’m on.  They are every bit as important as my professors from Duke; their wisdom and knowledge gained from experience will be something I always call on as much as I can.

          On Tuesday, Rev. Barber and family were in Wilmington on vacation, so I guided them around Jungle Rapids Amusement Park, and then my family and his had dinner together on Tuesday night.  It is incredible to me the way God has worked in my time here.  Just a few months ago, I walked into Rev. Barber’s office a complete stranger.  I have been thinking about how crazy he must have thought I was—I was asking to come to a place I had never been, to work with a man I’d never met, to serve people I didn’t know.  I was either bold or naïve; probably both, but more naïve than bold.  Rev. Barber took me in, sacrificing a great deal of his time and energy to have me as a student.  God has worked in that to bring our families together and forge a relationship that will last a lifetime.  I am incredibly grateful for that, and I know the rest of my family is as well.

          This upcoming week will be my last at Greenleaf.  Leaving is going to be extremely difficult.  I am beginning the process of looking back on this summer, and I find the view breathtaking.  I have changed more than I imagined, and I feel as if I see more clearly now than I ever have.  I’m going to soak in this last week, and begin the process of digesting this experience as a whole.  Thanks be to God for all of it.

**I wrote this on July 20, but I'm just now getting around to posting it!

On Sunday, we held the Reconciliation Service at Greenleaf, a joint service between my home congregation of FCC Wilmington, the congregation at Greenleaf, and other friends we invited to be here.  It was extremely powerful.  The Assoc. Regional Minister of NC, Sue Halford, was here, as were many other pastors from the area.  “Last Word”, the group from my home church that sings contemporary praise music joined with the Praise Team from Greenleaf and made beautiful music with very little time to rehearse together.  Rev. Barber and I preached a team sermon, alternating back and forth on different points.  We decided earlier in the week on ten points and who would take which point, but other than that, he had seen nothing I’d written and I’d seen nothing he’d written before we came to the pulpit on Sunday night.  The Holy Spirit was working in that, because the sermon flowed together incredibly well.  It was amazing to me how we seemed to feed off one another as the sermon went on.  It kept building and building. 

We followed that with communion.  Each person in the congregation was asked to find someone they didn’t know and come with them, hand in hand, to receive communion.  It was beautiful.  Rev. Barber’s oldest daughter and my sister came down the aisle together (they’re the same age).  I watched as people I’ve become close to here came forward with people I’ve known all my life.  The aisle was full as people came up, we were all jumbled together.  Standing there, looking out on that is an image I’ll never forget.  We followed that with footwashing, a risky undertaking since many of the FCC people are not used to the practice.  They came forward, and washed one another’s feet.  At that time, one of the pastors from the area came forward and asked Rev. Barber specifically to wash my feet, on behalf of the churches of Goldsboro, in appreciation for my coming here this summer.  That was one of the most humbling experiences of my life.  A man of God I’ve come to have great respect for in my interactions around the community, asked to wash my feet.  I still haven’t wrapped my mind around that. 

The service was just a blessing.  It was a lot of work to put together, but I felt a great contentment as I made the rounds and spoke to everyone in the fellowship dinner afterward.  It is sometimes difficult in leading worship to feel like you are worshipping as well, but I definitely felt that Sunday night.  The presence of God was so palpable, there seemed a different aura in the room, one I hadn’t experienced before.  The congregation seemed almost stunned by how powerfully the service carried on.  I can’t describe it in words.  I’m trying, but I just can’t.

Now, the work left is to make sure this service is something that carries on in the two congregations and in the region.  I hope to plan a time for Greenleaf to fellowship with FCC in Wilmington very soon.  Sunday was something we simply cannot let go of; a strong foundation was planted for something very special to grow, and it is something the Church must cultivate.  I say that we must hold on to it, but the truth is, what happened Sunday may end up being something that won’t let go of us.  

My first entry of the summer was related largely to the topic of segregation in the Church and it meant a great deal to me that this came together while I was here.  It is sometimes frightening what God can put you in middle of; when we walked out on Sunday for the service and I saw all of those people together, and when the sermon began to come together and we had communion, I found myself in disbelief at what God had entrusted me (and all of us) with on Sunday.  It is a glorious thing to feel the presence of God so strongly, but its power can be somewhat intimidating.  What happened on Sunday was too incredible to not be in awe of it.  I want to feel that in worship again and again. I just hope I never get used to it. 

      This week, the Goldsboro News-Argus ran the article from the press conference held here at the church regarding the use of Title I money at Goldsboro High School.  The News-Argus is an awful newspaper.  It is an evening paper—I was shocked to hear when I got here that a city the size of Goldsboro still prints an afternoon newspaper.  There is no paper on Saturday, so the staff can prepare for the Sunday paper, which is issued in the morning.  The paper is basically Republican propaganda.  They print editorials from other writers around the country, but not from prominent newspapers like the NY Times, Chicago Tribune, or Denver Post.  Instead, they print editorials that run in small, unknown newspapers that have a specific point of view.  The letters of the editor are good for more laughs than the comics are; inevitably, the letter to the editor is about one of two things (at least recently): support for the constitutional amendment banning gay marriage or the inclusion of “under God” in the pledge of allegiance.  The article concerning the schools was nothing short of an amazing.  The facts as presented in the press conference were reported only in part, and presented only as school officials responded to them.  This is the main mode of information in the city of Goldsboro.  It has all the professionalism of a high school newspaper. 

      Being exposed to the things I have been exposed to here has been difficult.  Not difficult in that it has forced me to see things I didn’t want to see, but because of the fact that when you see injustice and ignorance at the level on which I have seen it, it can be difficult to control your emotions.  The article in the paper is just one example.  I have been changed in too many ways to count, but I will wait on reflecting on that until the summer is at a close. 

      I get angry about the things I’ve seen here.  I see more clearly than I ever have.  I see some people and systems in our society as they are.  I listen more closely, and when I hear things now, I hear the truth in all its outrageous sadness.  In the article about how Goldsboro High has not received the Title I money that it is entitled to and so desperately needs, the school official made two statements I would have never heard clearly before now.  She explained how the services to students at Goldsboro High had remained “consistent” even without the Title I money.  She was proud of it.  She was proud of the fact that services had remained “consistent” at a school where over 40% fail the end of grade tests.  The last thing those kids need is for services to be “consistent.”  She also explained how the county had decided to spend all but 7% of Title I money on grades K-8.  Their logic has been that spending it on that level for the younger kids would help to prevent them from being in need of extra services by the time they reach high school.  In essence, she told the paper that they felt it was too late to turn the high school kids around, but if they could just reach the younger kids, the money would be well spent.  The high school kids, well, it’s too late for them.  I find that disgusting enough, to readily admit such an attitude.  But then to have the ignorance that it is a strategy that can work; spending the money on the younger students has worked so well to this point that over 40% fail when they get to high school!  Such astronomical ignorance, and yet, she was honest about it.  And the residents of Goldsboro just turned the page, to see what people were saying about gay marriage and the pledge of allegiance. 

      I cannot fathom how so many Christians are willing to mobilize over things like a constitutional amendment, the pledge of allegiance, the ten commandments in the courthouse, and prayer in the schools and then see an issue like the schools in Wayne Co. and deem them “too political.” They run quickly to the Bible to find a verse that speaks in support of those other things that protect our “values”, and then bypass what Jesus teaches us about justice and “the least of these”, the things that were of true “value” to Him. They wear their “WWJD?” bracelets around, and don’t seem to know the answer to the question.

      I watch with care the campaign ads that now flood the television, and it seems clear to me that this election will center on “national security.”  The debate will focus on who voted for war and who didn’t, who wants to pump more billions into making better bombs, who will be more willing to blow up those who threaten us.  It will focus on those things because those are the things people care about.  No politician says anything but what the people want to hear.  What many Christians seem to want is a good mix of organized religion and nationalism; they want to be able to hold onto privilege as communities and as a nation, they want a religion that will allow them to stay silent on issues of justice in the political realm, but the freedom to put a flag on their car when we start to blow up someone’s backyard.  Too much of the Church has nothing but religion wrapped in nationalism, and no discipleship.  And somewhere along the way, those in leadership have allowed this to happen. 

      I have a hard time dealing with the emotions of all this new knowledge.  I change so much, almost daily, that I wonder sometimes who is talking when I speak.  I get angry about the things I see now that I didn’t before; I’m angry mostly with the Church, and how it is failing the people who need us most.  The world needs to hear our voice, and we are afraid to speak.  It makes me angry, then frustrated, and then sometimes depressed.  This is what God has called me to, for such a time as this.  Some days I feel like shouting praises to God for that, and other days I have nothing but angry questions.  I may get angry, I may get frustrated, and I may get depressed, but I will never despair.  God is alive and well, and at work; my strength comes from God and God alone.  Because God is at work, the redemption of this Church and this generation is possible.  That is the only thing that mobilizes me.

      Tonight, Rev. Barber told a story that motivated me.  He told the story of Frederick Douglass; he was about to address a group in Massachusetts.  It had been a difficult time for Douglass.  Lincoln had been assassinated, he’d run for Vice President and been defeated, the Civil War was over and yet the nation was going backward.  And so he sat on a step, waiting for his turn to speak, head in his hands.  He didn’t even feel like addressing the crowd.  Harriet Tubman walked in to the building and spotted Douglass at the end of the corridor.  She shouted his name, “Frederick!” Then a question: “Is . . . God . . . dead?!” He didn’t answer her, but deep down, he knew the answer.  He knew that he couldn’t keep sitting on that step because God was alive and for that reason, all things were possible, even the end of things he was suffering.  He could not tarry in despair.

      And so, even as I get angry or depressed about the current state of God’s Church, I cannot sit on the step.  God is alive, and all things are possible--even our redemption.  

 

   It's a been a long time since I've written, so I'm about to flood you with things I've been working on if you want to catch up.  This is the first of three entries I'll put up by the end of the week.  Enjoy.        
   I’ve been teaching a class on the non-violent principles of Dr. Martin Luther King to the middle school kids in the Summer Camp at RBP.  The class is a part of a grant that Rebuilding Broken Places received, and is designed to help the kids learn the principles of non-violence and how that can apply to their own lives and the situations they encounter.  Teaching kids this age is never easy, but it is especially challenging to try and teach them material that most adults cannot fully comprehend.  We started out reading King’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail”, where he outlines the strategy implemented to address the issues in Birmingham, the strategies that landed him in the jail cell from which he writes.  That letter is my favorite of King’s writings, mainly because it calls the church to action.  King is writing to clergy who have asked him to stop his protesting and allow the courts to handle it.  His response convicts the moderate church of that era, and his statements still ring eerily true about the Church we all know that is too often silent on issues of justice and equality. 

   I have tried to keep the kids focused as we read aloud.  The vocabulary is well above their level in many places, but that is part of the point of the exercise, to try and help them expand their vocabulary.  Rev. Barber stopped in this week, and his words to them were of motivation to them and me.  He asked them about their dreams and goals, what they wanted to be and where they wanted to go to college.  He asked them if anyone had ever told them that they could be anything they wanted to be.  Most of them, of course, said someone along the way had told them that; they were shocked when he told them that it was a lie.  He told them that they can only be what they are willing to sacrifice to be.  Many of them listed Ivy League schools as college destinations, and reeled off doctor, lawyer, and physical therapists as career goals.  He explained to them that they will never reach those things unless they have a certain attitude about reading and learning.  He told them that they had an opportunity here because I was willing to come and teach them, to help them through the words they don’t know, and to teach them the revolutionary concept of non-violence.  He explained to them that if they didn’t have a certain motivation, they would be wasting that opportunity.  His speech was meant to motivate them, but it ended up motivating me as well.

            It is easy to get in a routine and lose sight of the implications of what you’re doing.  My time here is beginning to come to a close; I’ve settled in, and it’s easy to lose sight of what is meaningful when things slow to a daily grind.  His talk to those kids snapped me out of that, and I became more aware that what I was doing could have an impact on their lives and could help them achieve their goals.  I was allowing what I perceived to be a lack of energy on their part to begin to take away my sense of what we were to be accomplishing.  The kids showed a much different attitude during the session following that talk, and I was renewed by it as well. 

            I’ve enjoyed those kids.  Just when you think they’re not listening or have no clue what is going on in the discussion, they come up with an observation so mature it blows you away.  This week as we were discussing King’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail”, we got to the part of the letter when King describes in detail the violence perpetrated against those seeking an end to segregation.  He writes of the fire hoses and dogs turned on peaceful protesters, and the heartbreak of explaining to his daughter why they could not go to the amusement part being advertised on television.  As we were reading there were two girls who were fidgeting, laughing and giggling as they talked about something completely unrelated.  When we finished the paragraph, I asked them what was funny about the things we’d just read.  I explained that these were real things that happened to real people, and not just words on a page or pictures in a movie.  One of the girls hung her head as I was talking, and then looked up at me.  I was amazed by her response.  She said, “It’s not that I’m not listening.  I just can’t hear about it.  It’s too sad.” She told me about how she’d seen the movies in school and heard her grandmother tell the stories of the violence and hatred of that era.  It was hard for her to here about that ugly part of our past.  At first I wasn’t sure how to respond, but I told her this: “I understand.  It’s hard for me to hear about it too.  These things happened to people who look like you; and it was people who look like me who did those things to them.  I get angry, upset, and sad about these things just like you do.  But we can’t let that stop us from talking about it.  It is part of our past, and to heal from it, we must name it.” I think my perspective on it was a new one for her.  I was thankful for that conversation.  In that room were children of a new generation (myself included) looking back at an ugly, bloody past, trying to see our way toward healing from it.  We read on, paragraph by paragraph, big word by big word, trying to see what it is we can do to be better than what we used to be.  It’s only been a few weeks, but I think the kids in there (myself included) are better than we used to be.  We have to be, I think; our future depends on it.    

     Rev. Barber gave me some time to get away after preaching, so I drove to Chapel Hill and stayed in my own bed for a night.  I also picked up my pay check from the Divinity School--it wasn't directly deposited like it was supposed to be, thanks to the Duke University Payroll Dept., but that's another story all to itself.  It's amazing what being around your friends and acting stupid can do for your spirit. . . .it never ceases to amaze me how a group of guys in their mid twenties can have so much fun in TJ Maxx.  You'd have to see it to believe it.
     I came back on Tuesday morning and began working on this class I'm teaching to the middle school kids who are in the summer camp at Rebuilding Broken Places.  Part of a grant they received provides for a class on MLK, Jr. and his beliefs about non violence.  Kids that age are the toughest crowd there is--if you don't keep them entertained with something that is substantive, they'll eat you alive.  It's really a shame that all we teach kids about Dr. King these days is the "I Have a Dream" speech.  That's the most famous and deservedly so, but there are volumes of other things worth reading and watching.  My class started out this week reading "Letter From Birmingham Jail", which happens to be my most favorite of his speeches and writings.  I'm enjoying teaching those kids, I think we're going to learn a lot, and I know I already have just by preparing to teach them. 
    On Friday, a press conference was held at the church.  That sounds strange, I know.  I haven't talked about this much on here, but there's been much debate about the public schools here in Goldsboro over the last few months.  I walked into a hot issue as far as that goes.  There are a number of layers to the problems, but at the core are some very old feelings about race.  Goldsboro High School is the main issue.  It is 99% African American, and nearly 50% did not pass the end of grade tests.  Almost 50% of the teachers at GHS are not certified.  Those statistics are alarming enough.  There are some residual effects from the consolidation of the Goldsboro City School System and the Wayne Co. School System.  Want some evidence?  The School Board recently proposed a $79 million bond referendum.  If passed, they plan to spend $6 million of it on schools within the city limit.   A group of local clergy, who call themselves "Concerned Clergy" (Rev. Barber is one of the leaders) filed a lawsuit with the Office of Civil Rights on behalf of the students in the Central Attendance District of the Goldsboro schools.  It was the last step in a long effort to the get the School Board to discuss the issues of the schools segregation and high achievement gap between minority students and whites.  The Wayne Co. School Board simply refuses to acknowledge that there is a problem. 
    The whole debate is a sad one.  For some on both sides of the issue, the problem is not the integration but the achievement.  The concept that integration is a good and positive thing in and of itself seems a lost idea.  Rev. Barber has hard facts to back up the issues he is pushing the community to address.  District lines have been strategically drawn and new schools have been built in areas that have furthered the problem of segregation.  The Wayne Co. School Board makes the New Hanover Co. School Board look progressive.  For you Wilmington people, that says a lot.
     The press conference at the church was actually called by a parent of a Goldsboro High student and one of its former teachers.  The teacher raised the concern that in the last year, GHS has lost 13 teachers to transfers within the county, representing a total of 135 years combined experience.  The parent's issue was even more disturbing.  Prepare yourself, we're about to talk some technical stuff about schools and funding.  The federal gov't has a program they call Title I (part of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 that included Title IX which leveled the playing field for women's sports) that provides federal dollars to schools with a high percentage of low income students.  They measure which schools are eligible for Title I money by the percentage of kids who are eligible for free/reduced lunch.  The schools can determine that percentage in one of two ways: by forms that parents must fill out and return to the school, or based on what's called the feeder pattern system where they use the statistics from the elementary schools that feed into a middle school to determine if the middle school is eligible.  (Same works for middle schools that feed to high schools)  The advantage of this method is that is doesn't rely on middle school and high school kids to return those forms.  Their is a certain stigma that is attached to getting free lunch that kids become aware of at those ages, and they are less likely to return the forms.  The No Child Left Behind Act (2002) has an impact on all of this.  A school is eligible to receive Title I money from the fed. gov. if the percentage getting free/reduced lunch is over 36%.  The County School Board will receive money for every school that is above the 36%.  However, they do not have to spend it on those schools and the school itself does not have to accept the help.  If the school is above 75% on free/reduced lunch, they must receive Title I funds, no ifs, ands, or buts.  All this is to say that there is a big loophole in this law.  If a school system has 21 schools that are Title I eligible, they receive money for each of those schools from the gov't.  But if none of them are over the 75% line, the board can take that money and disburse to only 10 of the schools if it so chooses.  It happens all the time.  A high school can be 70% on free/reduced lunch, but the board decides to spend the Title I money it would have gotten at the elementary school that is at 40% because it is thought to be "a better investment".  Basically, it's too late for the high school kids,so why waste the money?  The 75% number is the magic line for schools and school boards.
     Since the passage of the No Child Left Behind Act, all this has gotten a little trickier for the schools.  If you take Title I money, the gov't now says that you must make Adequate Yearly Progress on test scores (AYP), or the gov't can impose sanctions on the school, from allowing students to transfer to dismissing teachers and adminstration to gov't take over of the school.  They become more and more severe the more years the schools fails to meet AYP.  How does this relate to GHS?  This parent uncovered some interesting information.  Wayne Co. relies solely on the forms to determine free/reduced lunch percentages and Title I eligibility.  In '99-'00, '00-'01, and '01-'02 school years, GHS did receive Title I money.  However, beginning in the year '02-'03 (the same year No Child Left Behind was passed, it so happens), GHS received no Title I money. GHS's two feeder middle schools routinely report 88.5% and 89% receiving free/reduced lunch, and the Co. had to spend Title I funds there and they had to be under the scrutiny of No Child Left Behind.  This past school year, GHS reported that 67% were eligible for free/reduced lunch.  As you can see the math doesn't add up.  If nearly 90% of the kids from the two feeder schools receive free lunch, how can only 67% be eligible at the high school?  Since this number is below the 75% line, GHS does not have to take the money and the Board doesn't have to give it to them.  It also means that they're not under the scrutiny of the fed. gov.  Maybe the kids didn't turn the forms back in, maybe the school didn't go out of their way to encourage them to, maybe both.  The bottom line is, GHS has received none of the money it is entitled to and clearly needs (see statistics at beginning), and it seems the school and the board are doing everything they can to avoid the scrutiny of No Child Left Behind.  When I talked about demonic forces, this is the kind of back handed activity I was talking about, and the victims are kids who deserve none of it.
     Who would think this is information a pastor needs to know?  Not many congregations, and not many pastors.  I'm now convinced that it is vital.  The simple truth is that the same kids who are struggling to pass the end of grade tests, being taught by a non certified teacher, are the same ones who are in the pews every Sunday.  To be ignorant to that side of their life is to fail to provide pastoral care for them. 
     You can sense that there are those in Goldsboro who wish Rev. Barber would go away.  They are tired of his loud cries on behalf of the children in Goldsboro's inner city.  They are tired of his sharp words to the people who refuse to help those children.  They resent his willingness to call them down out of comfort and privilege.  I watch it all go on, and shake my head.  They wonder by what authority he does those things, aligning himself with those kids, shouting down injustice, condemning the domination of the poor by the privileged.  They see what he does with downright anger and hatred.  Funny thing is, most of them sit in a church pew every Sunday.  I shake my head again.  If only they knew about Jesus. . . . .

**if this interests you (and if you go to school with me and are going into the ministry, it must!), you can read "Savage Inequalities" by Anthony Kozol for more info, I read it this summer.  I'm also reading "The Powers That Be" by Walter Wink, another good read.

    This is the first of a couple of entries I'm gonna make over the next couple days because I haven't posted in awhile and there's a lot to tell.  The week following Father's Day was Vacation Bible School, and the theme for the kids was "Team Jesus".  It was an incredibly uplifting week.  The adults discussed "Purpose Driven Life" each night and had some interesting conversations.  I'm not used to teaching really, but I had fun and the class took my criticisms of Warren's book in stride.  My main goal was to give them the confidence to read a book like that and disagree with it; just because millions of people have read it doesn't make it gospel truth.  In fact, if that many people have read it, that should be a warning sign--anything that widely accepted doesn't usually have any real substance.  Not to say that Warren's book doesn't have some value, but it has its problems, like any other book you'd find in the "Christian Living" section.
    The kids were great at VBS.  Each night Rev. Barber had one of the teenagers close us in prayer, and I was blown away by the way they just talked to God.  They were impassioned, conscious prayers that demonstrated real spiritual depth.  I've heard it said that if you pray in public and don't have a personal prayer life, that fact will be exposed quickly.  Those kids had a clear relationship with God, and that set the tone for all of VBS.  On Friday night, each "team" (divided by age group) processed in to "The Presence of the Lord is Here!", an upbeat, uplifting song that sounds almost like a stadium anthem.  The kids walked in, beginning with the toddlers.  It was one of those fitting, holy moments.  The music declared loudly that the presence of the Lord was in the place, and one look at those kids filing in left no doubt that the music's statement was true.  Everyone was singing and clapping, it sounded like we were at a sporting event.  That kind of scene, with some passionate kids and some adults who were really seeking spiritual food,  gave my spirit some much needed restoration.
    I had to get to work in the midst of all that though, because I had to preach on Sunday, the 27th.  It may have been the most difficult sermon I've written.  Greenleaf does not necessarily follow the lectionary, so I was free to choose a Scripture.  That is not as easy as it sounds.  I ended up choosing one of the lectionary texts from the previous week, Luke 8:26-39.  Jesus casts demons out a man into a group of pigs, and the pigs drown themselves.  It was a difficult text to preach because there is so much there, and I feel like I probably didn't develop my points enough.  It is difficult to preach on demons, or demonic forces.  Modern culture is skeptical of spiritual beings like that.  It's funny, most people have no problem believing in angels, but most doubt the existence of demons.  I used to be one of them.  But when you begin to see things in our society for what they are, like I have this summer, you begin to trust that there must be something more at work, that there has to be something in control of God's creation to make it behave in such a way.  Here's what I mean: think about how much money was spent taking pictures of the rings around Saturn that came out this week, and then think about how short our schools are on money and how underpaid teachers, policemen, and firefighters are.  If you turned on the television a few weeks ago, all you saw was the funeral proceedings of Ronald Reagan.  Yet, the government refuses to even allow pictures of the mass numbers of caskets coming back from Iraq to be published.  None of the funerals of those dead soldiers has been given a fraction of the air time.  How about this: African Americans make up 42% of prisoners on death row.  They make up 12% of the general population.  Those facts and observations represent systems in our society that are failing their purposes.  In fact, they are working against the purposes of God revealed to us by Jesus.  Something has control of those systems and the collection of people that run them that is not of God.  When you see those forces at work, it becomes easier to believe that systems and people can be possessed and that the demonic not only exists, but is active.  The good news is, so is God and God's Church.  The hope that quells my despair lies in that fact.   

   I want to start out by thanking those of you who have posted comments and feedback after you've read these entries.  It blows my mind how many people are reading this (thanks in large part to the publicity my family has given this site), and I've been blessed by the comments you've made.  If you'd like to make a comment, just click on the link at the end of this entry, but be careful . . . . everyone can read what you write!  If you want to email me, my address is cf24@duke.edu.  I know some of you may not have it.
   Sunday's service was one of the most powerful I've ever been a part of--there was a special recognition of fathers that left everyone in the service emotional, a powerful time of prayer at the altar, and communion was served to us by some special youth from the congregation.  I went from that service to I-40 to drive home for some Father's Day time at Wrightsville Beach (Kathy, stop reading now, it'll be torture).  I got there in late afternoon, my favorite time of day at WB.  There is something about the beach late in the day, around five in the afternoon.  For the longest time I couldn't explain why the late afternoon at the beach is so beautiful, but it hit me the other day.  The heat begins to fade to dull warm, like the burn of the sun and the sweat from the humidity have finally been purged, and a dull glow is what's left for those who have been patient enough to wait for it.  The breeze picks up and the ocean seems to finally settle in--it's like the rhythm of the waves is well rehearsed by then, and they crash in perfect order.  They crash in a sort of soft, low, controlled roar. The next day will bring a new wind and new currents, and the ocean will have to find its rhythm all over again, but late in the afternoon the beach is as it should be, rolling along like the gentle place God intended it to be.  How anyone could stand in that spot and still be an atheist is beyond me.  I understand now why Jesus spent all that time by the water.  I was thankful for where I was and who I was with.
      I drove back tonight for the first night of Vacation Bible School, and began my fifth week at Greenleaf.  It promises to be the busiest yet, and maybe the busiest of the summer.  I'll be teaching the adult class tomorrow night, where I'll pick up in their ongoing study of "Purpose Driven Life."  While I'm thinking about it, let me encourage you to be careful what and how you read.  Books like "The DaVinci Code", "Purpose Driven Life", and other popular books exploring the Christian faith must be read with real discernment.  Let me give an example.  The first section of "Purpose Driven Life" is entitled "It's Not About You".  I found it refreshing stuff for a Christian culture that is now dangerously self absorbed.  But, only 30 pages into the book, Rick Warren has written a section on "The Benefits of Purpose Driven Living", where he identifies five things that purpose driven living can do for you!  It took only thirty pages to go from how we can fulfill God's purposes for us to the glory of God to what God can do for you.  Be careful what you read.  So much of what is popular is so watered down that there's hardly anything worth retaining.
    The Colorado Rockies of the Jackie Robinson Baseball League took it on the chin last Saturday, in 100+ degree heat.  They're getting a little better, and some kids are making contact with the ball that weren't coming close earlier.  I'm starting to get attached to some of those kids.  Sam, who plays outfield, and can barely see because of how big the helmets are, has taken to me for some reason.  He'll just walk up and grab my hand.  The other day he said to me as we were about to walk out into the field, "where are you going Coach Chris?"  I told him I was going to stand somewhere in the outfield, and asked him what position he wanted to play (we don't get too formal).  He said "I just wanna go where ever you're going."  And he did.  Sam is a precious child--his face is so innocent and unassuming.  His smile is bright and wide, and he doesn't give anyone a minute's trouble.  And I stand there on that field, and look beyond the outfield fence at the public housing project that surrounds us.  When I drive to the field, I can feel the hopelessness and depression as I pass the apartments in the project, and I wonder what Sam must feel.  I think about where Sam will go to school, and how it will be a shadow of the place that kids in Chapel Hill or Raleigh, or even other parts of Wayne County, will go.  I look down at Sam, grabbing my hand and holding tight, and then I look up and think about what is waiting for him in this world.  I look around at the chance this world is going to give him.  His eyes are hopeful and happy.  I wonder if years will harden him, if injustice will break his spirit, if the potential he has will be wasted by a system that has no real interest in seeing him succeed.  I wonder if he'll ever be able to escape the viscious cycles that exist where he lives, and if this country will give him any help doing it.  I wonder why, in a country where we have so much, we continue to dump on kids like Sam.  I'm angry, because we spend billions of dollars trying to take pictures of Mars, and we tell Sam that we don't want to spend more than about $25,000 a year on his teacher.  I'm angry because I know that we can do better, we have the resources to do better for Sam than we do.  I hear President Bush talk about defending freedom and opportunity in the rest of the world and I wonder who's defending Sam's freedom and opportunity.  We could do better, and every day we choose not to change, not to see Sam, we choose not to do what we can to keep the hope and trust from leaving his eyes.  We don't have to dump on Sam.  And yet we continue to do so, needlessly.
    The field is filled with kids, like Sam, full of hope, with no idea what waits for them.  I get a lump in my throat, but I'm not sure if it's because of my anger or my sadness.  Maybe it's both.  I don't know what to do with it.  I don't know what to do about it.  I'm not sure how to change it.  I just hold Sam's hand, and walk with him to the outfield. . . . .