Of Schnitzels and Country Hams

It is funny the things you miss when you are living abroad. I haven’t really been away from the States long enough to miss very much, but there are some things. I don’t miss a lot of American junk food and fast food joints. After all, there are plenty of McDonald’s around Germany, but I haven’t waltzed into nary a one. I do go to the Taco Bell on the military base, but that is more for the fellowship than for the joy of eating a really bad burrito. There are a lot of products and foods common in the U.S. that I can’t find here either—like Gatorade, butter beans, cream of chicken and mushroom soup, and, of course, Sundrop. But I can’t say I long for those things. A lot of people tell me they miss their favorite American TV shows. Not me! I catch some shows on the Armed Forces Network and Hulu, but it’s not a big deal to me.

Do you want to know what I REALLY miss? Smoked, salt cured, country ham from Laden’s General store in Belvedere, North Carolina!

Oh! Uhm… and family! Yes, I definitely miss family (they’re probably reading this).     

If you asked me, however, before I would even have a chance to think about it, I’d probably tell you it is the ham! That’s bad, isn’t it? It is also weird, because I didn’t really eat all that much ham back in the States. At about $45.00 a ham, you can imagine why! Yet, maybe two or three times a year, I would drive out to Belvedere and buy a ham. I guess it is more just the idea that I couldn’t get one, even if I wanted to.

They are perfect. Mr. Laden smokes them himself, just behind the store. The store itself is perfect, a one room country store that sells everything from homemade chocolate covered peanuts to collards. In the back is the amazing little meat market, with the cured hams and side meat just hanging right there on the wall like brown and black Christmas ornaments of pure melt in your mouth joy to the world! Cut the hams in half to reveal a work of art colored in ruby red and pink with stunning marbling of smoky fat. I always had Mr. Laden cut off the hock end and quarter it for dropping in as seasoning for green beans and the like. Mmmmmmmmmmm, Good.

I am so blessed with amazing and diverse food choices here in Germany. This is why I find it so strange that I have craved one of these hams for several weeks now. I think it hit me today. No matter what it is, TV shows, fast food, or country hams, my reasons for missing what I miss are the same as they are for anyone else missing what they miss. It is part of human nature to want most what we know we cannot have.

Think about it! We torture ourselves over the trifling things we lack, in spite of all of the wonderful things that we have. One of the many things that Germany is teaching me is to become content. I don’t know if I’ll ever find country ham over here. It probably exists. Even so, it wont be Laden’s. What I do have, however, is some awesome bratwurst and amazing schnitzel!

Yet, contentment goes deeper than appreciating one’s food choices. Contentment comes in enjoying true life in the surprises and mysteries of the every day patterns and the common occurrences. If all we ever live for is the big moments, are we truly living? What about the normal moments? They are more frequent I think. Learning to live in every moment and appreciate every common option is a part of the life to the full. I am learning this. I am learning that God gives life and joy in the things that are available to us far more deeply than in the things we do not have. God does normal more than the miraculous. Seeing this makes all the difference.      

A Trashy Topic

I really can’t remember who said it now, maybe Mark Twain, “If you got rid of all the preachers and all the garbage collectors at the same time, who do you think you would miss first?”

There is no question that in Germany it is the garbage collectors we would first long for! Germany is a nation that takes trash, trash collection, trash disposal, and trash classification very seriously! In every German home you will find not one, but four trash cans. There is one for all recyclable paper. A separate recycling container is for materials like plastic, foil, and packaging. Another can exists, with a tightly sealed lid, for “bio.” Bio is all food scraps, coffee grounds, tea bags, and plant material. Finally, there is a can for plain old junk. Oh, and glass? That's a whole "nother" topic! 

Failure to properly sort and deposit refuse is a serious offense. If nothing else, your neighbors will glare at you and speak angry words that I simply cannot understand! Trust me, I know! Just the other day my wife accidentally left the bio in a plastic bag, which deeply offended our neighbors, to the point that they left us a nasty note! I know, I know… we are stupid foreigners! We simply cannot apologize enough that fact!

We don’t take trash separation quite so seriously in the states. Maybe we should. The fact is, however, we don’t really care where it goes so long as it goes! In this sentiment, we are probably united with all modernized cultures. Few families would stand for allowing the trash to simply build up at the roadside. I mean, seriously, my trash reeks! Carrying my junk to the common trash bins is always a walk of shame! Did I mention it stinks?

We get rid of trash because it is an awful thing to keep around. What about spiritual trash? Are we as quick and desperate about cleaning that out? I think the opening quote about garbage collectors and preachers is really, more than anything, an indictment against bad preachers, spewing out bad theology, to a very sick people who allow the spiritual garbage to pile up at the door.

We carry around junk like the gospel of prosperity, that if I just have enough faith and give enough to the preacher, I’ll be blessed with wealth and success. Junk! We often view God as either a cosmic Santa who grants all our wishes if we are good little boys and girls, or as a Zeus-like tyrant throwing lightning bolts at all who displease him! Junk and junk! We put up with trashy ideas about church governance, giving all too much authority to those preachers—the good ones and the bad! Smelly junk! We subscribe to the attendance view of being a Christian, that as long as I show up at church and get counted, I’m somehow magically a disciple. That is not magically delicious, it is junk!

I could go on. You could fill in your own observations about junk. There are no shortages of examples of trashy theology. In fact, there is a gross pile of it that most of us allow in great heaps. We hang on to it and live with it, even though it stinks. It makes us sick, but we keep it right next to our precious and priceless treasures. We feel in our gut that it is not good for us, not right for us. Trust me, I know. I have my own little pile of filth! Maybe we all just need a well intentioned German neighbor to yell at us!  

A "not like me" Congregation

Australia, Canada, England, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Germany, Ghana, Guatemala, Haiti, India, Iran, Jamaica, Malaysia, Nigeria, Scotland, Sierra Leone, The Netherlands, Ukraine, USA…

No, this is not a list of UN member nations! These are the lands from which the members of Immanuel Baptist Church come! It is a kind of tossed salad of cultures, primary languages, and traditions. In fact, I’d say that a majority of members and attendees not only come from differing cultures, but from differing denominational traditions as well! Many are coming from community churches or nondenominational traditions. Others have a Methodist, Presbyterian, Anglican, or Catholic background. Several come from no church tradition at all—everything is new for them. So, when I stand to preach each Sunday, I look out upon a pool of diversity. The faces tell of distant lands, and strange ways, and a host of various denominational backgrounds.

The sometimes curious and puzzled looks remind me that this congregation is not just like me. I am used to “just like me congregations.” Throughout my ministry so far I have preached, counseled, and cared for people who predominantly grew up in the southern United States. Many were either reared within, or at least knew quite a bit about the Baptist tradition. And, they almost always spoke English. Here, this is joyfully not the case.

I say joyfully. Does that surprise you? The truth is I find it extremely freeing! Yes, I have never been so aware of the words coming out of my own mouth, always internally wondering if they make sense, are clear, and not too filled with American-isms! I constantly ask myself, do these words make sense to a non-Baptist? This can sometimes feel limiting. Yet, in the diversity, I ultimately find freedom. At Immanuel Baptist Church, we have to work hard to work together, pray together, worship together, in a pattern that brings us all together in healthy ways. Without this healthy unity, we could not be effective as a church. We could not be a church at all! By focusing on the unifying aspects of our traditions we find not simply peace, but strength! By celebrating each other’s various cultures, languages, and traditions, we find a wealth of resources to do the work of the gospel! In the strangeness of variety, I find myself increasingly free to rely on this multi-faced community as the Body of Christ, rather than simply relying on myself and those exactly like me. It turns out, Jesus speaks more clearly in the variety than he ever can in the single mindedness of a “just like me congregation.”

I think most of the time in my life, I have sought out the churches that are “just like me congregations.” Maybe we all do this. Maybe I do it because I think my way of doing church is always best. Maybe I do it because I think there simply could not be any right answers, save the ones I already have. Maybe I do it because I want church to be comfortable, easy, and just the way I like it. Maybe this is why any of us tends to only join churches that are just like us. Maybe. Maybe we are a bunch of Goldilocks children who want our porridge just right! This has become my personal conviction over the past few weeks, for myself anyway.

Please pray for the continued unity of this wonderful family called Immanuel Baptist Church. Join me in celebrating the mystery and wonder of God’s Spirit binding us together in deep love! As Immanuel looks toward the future, this unity and diversity, this variety and single heartedness is more important than ever! And, as you pray, ask yourself, “How can all Christians, the children of God, learn to better hear and see each other in ways that allow the Church universal to do better at reaching the World for Christ?”

Pulling on Push

“This means push, not pull,” my guide quickly explained, correcting my efforts to look like an obvious foreigner or complete moron. All day today I’ve tooled around the big city of Wiesbaden, attempting to register as a resident. All day, I’ve relied entirely on the wonderful help of an Immanuel Baptist Church member who has lived here for many years. She was my guide. She speaks fluent German, and is an absolute pro at settling foreigners into the country. For example, who would have guessed that one must first wait in a line downstairs, draw a number, then wait in a different line upstairs?

I have many other guides right now just like the one who helped me today. Many others! Some are experts on the way the church has functioned over the years. These invaluable saints can tell me what pitfalls to avoid, and how to overcome various churchy issues that require sensitivity. I also have guides that can tell me how to experience as much “American-ese” as possible in this distant land. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for going native. It’s just that every now and then I like to eat Lucky Charms! Even my GPS is an irreplaceable and gifted guide, as I attempt to navigate through the little streets and lanes, fumbling with a manual transmission. Driving a stick shift is not one of my spiritual gifts, by the way.

In life, we need guides. Someone along the way must teach us how to do the things that person has already figured out. As I was guided about today, it occurred to me that there are many life moments for which no earthly guide will do. What do we do when our marriages are strained? What do we do when we face two viable job opportunities? How do we know what direction to go? What do we do in the face of loss, the death of someone we love? How do we know what we are meant to do with our lives? What is our role in our church? For that matter, how do we even decide which church to join?

For us, there is good news. We already have a real, wonderful, and ever present Guide—the Spirit of the Living God. If we would simply invest the time into learning how to listen to his voice, we would find a depth of guidance that would change our lives forever. It takes time to discern this voice of guidance. And, frankly, we will not always get the directions and answers we want. Yet, as much as we might like to pull on the push door, it only makes us look foolish—especially when the guide keeps whispering, “This is the way, walk in it” Isaiah 30:21.  

We are here! Praise God, we are here!

Doxology!

Christmas is a time for celebrating the birth of Messiah. Messiah, however, did not come in the way most expected. He was a fantastic surprise, in almost every way. True, the people should have known God would not send some mighty muscle ripped warrior to lay the smack down on all the evildoers, give all the gold and land and power to the Hebrews, and sit on a big ole throne of preciousness! That’s just not God’s style, like it or not. It just seems that, from the beginning, God is always about surprises. He brings what he wants, when he wants, how he wants. That makes some folks mad, I’m sure.

However, when we just give in to his surprise laden way of gracing us, we find out life. When we just let go of trying to force a way and control a path, we find out hope. When we finally quite demanding our so called “ideas” for how everything in our lives and world should be, we find out love. In life, in hope, in love, we live out the surprise of having a God who actually knows what he is doing. This is no amateur. He’s been doing the God thing for some time now.

Even though I’m typically not prepared for them, I love his surprises! And, I have received a lot of them lately. I’ve gotten a lot of financial surprises, at the very moments I felt God was not doing his job to my satisfaction. When my best friend committed to supporting me, I was shocked at how much he actually committed to give! Shocked! In a good way! It’s wonderful. Another financial surprise came from an amazing little church in my home town, New Hope Baptist Church. I have never been a member of New Hope. I have never served their either. Yet, when they learned about what God was sending my family to do, they allowed God to surprise me through their faith and love by including me into their church budget in a very, very significant way! Sometimes the monetary surprises come from surprisingly surprising places, like my health insurance provider! You read correctly, my insurance! We received a sizable check from them just the other day.

The best God surprises, however, usually have nothing to do with money. Such is the case with our number one surprise. We should have seen this one coming. We didn’t. It has surprised us just how this whole move is transforming our family! We are closer and more committed to each other than ever before… and we were already pretty close! Our boys have simply hit a growth spurt of maturity and faith. They are so confident in God right now, as well as in themselves. This whole transition has deepened their positive self-images as children of God, empowered for a calling. At the same time, Kim and I have discovered new depths of peace and faith. All of this is a fantastic gift from the Lord.

These last few months have not unfolded in a way I would have ever guessed. And, to confess, there have been moments when I was ticked off at God for not doing things when and how I thought he should. He decided to do things his way instead. SURPRISE! But you know, I’d be lost without surprises. Doxology!

Running the Gauntlet of Goodbyes

It was hard, traveling around North Carolina, to say goodbye to friends and family. I shared tears and lingering hugs with so many over the past month. You see, I recently traveled to a number of communities and churches, as well as homes, to share about my new calling and raise some financial support. In some ways, it was emotionally draining to encounter these many farewells, especially knowing that there are still many more to come. It is like a slow closing of the eyes when you’re just not sure you’re ready to go to sleep. My head, however, is nodding toward Germany.

As hard as it is to say farewell, however, I found something deep, lasting, and wonderful in these “goodbyes”—stories. So many stories were shared with me as I visited. I learned things about friends and family that I never knew. Many people shared memories and feelings about me and my ministry and friendship with them through the years. Oddly, these moments were kind of like being present at my own funeral! Part of me wanted to remind people, “I’m not dying folks!” The rest of me simply took everything in, stored it, knowing I might need some of those encouraging words in the days to come. No, I don’t believe every good word that is said about me. No one should. But I will take them nonetheless.

I’ll tell you another thing I found in these moments, a lasting question. Why do we wait until the funeral moment? Why don’t we tell others, in the here and now of life, just how much they mean to us? This is a lesson I have learned in recent weeks. I take it to heart. Perhaps we all should.

Thanksgiving is coming up, here in the U.S. What better way to celebrate, than to seek out the ones who matter, the ones who impact our lives, the ones who play a part in all that we are? What do we do when we find them? Tell them thank you! Why wait until the funeral, or the long goodbye? Why wait for anything?