​I talk a lot about what a gift it is to know people in the neighborhood. People I might not otherwise know. Such richness in the variety of young and old, folks new to the area and those that have lived here for over thirty years, different cultures, families, languages, religions, experiences, and personalities. It is truly a gift. This week I was reminded of this in such a profound way. We spent time helping our friends and neighbors move into their new apartment. When I first met Efrem and Senait, they were facing huge challenges like many others in our community trying to find affordable housing. So Saturday was a wonderful celebration as they moved into a great apartment close by. It seemed absolutely perfect for them and the boys were thrilled that they could continue on at the same school.
 
The super fun part was that as we were sitting around sharing breakfast and chai tea, we learned that Senait Amine is a bona fide music star in Eritrea! With 1.6 Million views on YouTube. Oh my. And Efrem writes, plays and produces all the music. I knew he was a talented musician when he played at our community meal. But I had no idea how talented. In fact, they recently produced a fabulous music video. Of course, my husband David whipped out his iPhone and showed him my famous Sting video (although that is sort of cheating, cause it was a moment unlike Senait and Efrem’s established music careers). But it was fun to share music and to laugh and to realize that we have so much more in common than we ever thought. And so we find we are connected and I can sense the joy we share in that. How can we hear each other’s music? How can we be creative together? What will unfold as we share life in the neighborhood and in community? 
 
This week as we attend the Inhabit Conference (there's only a few spots left!) and talk about the great local convergence, I feel a convergence of my own. As a songwriter I’ve been recently inspired to write songs that reflect God at work in the neighborhood. And this weekend, I will be sharing an original song about the gift of my neighbor -- accompanied by Efrem, my neighbor -- at the conference that is all about loving my neighbor. Coincidence? I think not. Surely this is the beautiful, stunning work of the Spirit, who is bringing rockstars, quasi-rockstars and dreamers together all across neighborhoods everywhere.

Good news is only good news if it truly is good news. You and me, we may not be rocket scientists or published theologians, but I think we get this simple truth. Good news must be good news. Like actual, bona fide, pinch-me, too-good-to-be-true good news.
 
The problem today is this phrase, good news, has come to mean something else entirely. For many, the gospel actually sounds more like bad news. An angry, punitive god who can’t tolerate sin and demands a sacrifice to satisfy a moral code. Ugghh. No one wants this god. Resembling the ancient mythological gods of wrath more than the God that I know. For at the margins, the gospel is represented by the crazy prophet guy at the street fair holding a big sign and yelling at the crowds to repent or burn in hell. At yet all the more alarming, today mainstream “evangelicalism” conjures up images of judgmental, naïve, mean-spirited people who don’t care about the plight of the poor, who are out of touch and perhaps a little out of their minds. For many young people today, this is a deal breaker, only serving to ensure the final nail in the coffin of the traditional church as their stomachs churn and they flee for their lives and their consciences.
 
You see, they know. They know that this is supposed to be good news for everyone. There are many false gospels today. Jesus told us to be on the look out for them. And for me, the litmus test is this. Is it really good news to my neighbors? To all my neighbors. Rich, poor, old, young, those who live in their big houses, those who don’t have a home, those who are addicted to screens and those who need their daily fix of methadone. Does it embody the heart and compassion of Jesus? Is it truly good news?
 
For God is good, always has been and always will be. From beginning to end. Our story begins as the Spirit first breathed life into a good and beautiful creation and the first image bearers and declared that it was very, very good. When Jesus entered the beautiful broken story of humanity, coming as one of us, the angels brought good news of great joy that would be for all people. When Jesus walked the earth, he declared in his inauguration speech that he had come to preach good news to the poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, to set the captives free and to bring freedom to those who were imprisoned. And when his followers were startled out of their minds to find that Jesus who had suffered and died a brutal death was in fact very much alive, it was a kind of good news in which the world was now a different place. Heaven had come and God’s restoration project had begun to renew all of humanity and creation to the goodness for which it was created.

Bread. It is life. It is sustenance. In so many cultures, it carries our stories. Here around the table, we gather as we have for hundreds of years and we share life. We share community. And we share bread. This week as I feasted upon the wonderful array of delicious traditional dishes made lovingly by the mothers of our Turning Point families, I also feasted upon the sites, the sounds, and the stories. This is the beauty of our community meals.
 
Iris, resilient and eloquent, her voice strong and yet incredibly gracious as she tells the story of her Native American people through the fry bread she has brought.
 
Saba, warm, gentle and kind. Not generally one for the center stage but everyone knows she is the mother hen behind it all -- gathering, nurturing, greeting everyone with a hug or kiss, and informing the other Eritrean moms what dishes they will bring to complete the meal. She holds up the beautiful himbasha she has made especially for this night served in a traditional colored basket. And she talks with pride about the prominence of injera at the center of every Eritrean meal.
 
And then Efrem. Talented, likeable, smart, with a winning smile and an excitement for life. Nodding his head enthusiastically as Saba describes his own culture and food. Willingly jumping up on stage to play his saxophone and a kirar (which is a stringed guitar-like traditional instrument) as he began to sing a traditional song. The whole room is caught up in the performance and the kids squeal with delight when he offers to let them join him on stage and play along. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It is here at our community meals that I experience just a little taste of heaven.
 
And so it strikes me. Bread. Communion. The stories of death. The stories of life. The stories of celebration. It is all here. Around the many different colored faces in the room, the varied languages, the rich cultures. We share bread and so we share life. And we share community.

As Iris spoke of the pain and suffering held in the story of her fry bread, I was deeply moved. For the Navajo fry bread was born out of the suffering of captivity and death as they were forced from their fertile lands on “Long Walks” to internment camps where hundreds died from starvation and meager supplies. Fry bread could be made from the flour, sugar, salt and lard that was provided and so became their sustenance, their manna in the desert. To this day, fry bread remains an important part of any gathering, across different Native American tribes, languages and cultures. For in it holds community, tradition and the celebration of life. And through it, they remember a common story of suffering, death and an atrocity never to be forgotten.
 
As Saba shared about her beloved injera, it spoke so beautifully of community. The process to make injera takes days, allowing time for the dough to ferment -- just as everything good and beautiful takes time. If you run out, you go get some from your neighbor. Everything about their meal is communal, served on a family-style plate where everyone partakes in this earthy and bodily experience using only their hands. You see, the very nature of the bread tells a story of communion.
 
In my own faith tradition, we also have a bread of communion, a bread of celebration, and a bread of suffering. We celebrate the Eucharist, remembering a horrific death, the crucifixion of Jesus. And we remember that life comes out of death and that joy comes out of sorrow. That Jesus rose from the grave, conquering death and evil for all time. We celebrate that love wins. That mercy triumphs over judgment and that love conquers evil.

This is what the Easter holiday is all about. And so as we break the bread, we remember the suffering of Jesus and of all humanity. We stand in solidarity with those who suffer the unimaginable  -- the Syrian refugee, the child forced to work slave labor, the women and children in South Sudan walking for weeks in search of food. And we remember our suffering God, who entered the pain and the brokenness of our world and who ultimately defeated evil, violence and oppression with LOVE. We remember that God’s presence is here with us. We experience communion. God’s presence is near, and it sustains us. For Jesus said, I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry. We receive the gift of community. We are not alone. We are all a part of a story of love and redemption that is unfolding.
 
This week, as we remember the suffering of Christ and the suffering of the world, may we eat the bread of brokenness and join in the suffering of all of humanity. Conversely, as we celebrate the biggest win of all time in the resurrection of our Lord and the day the revolution of love began, may we also share in the bread of celebration and abundant life. And may we break bread together. Often. Regularly. With our neighbors. Across different cultures and different religions, political mindsets, and socio-economic divides. May we find the joy of communion as we share our bread and thus our lives.

​by Jessica Ketola

We’ve been going through the Beatitudes for Lent, and it is so freakin’ unbelievable how  “opposite” this crazy kingdom of God is. I mean it challenges everything. And I mean e v e r y t h i n g. Our own pursuit of happiness, our comforts and our consumption, our hobbies and the ways we spend (or waste) our time and money, our attempts to make something of ourselves and to be successful, liked and admired. Jesus says all of this will leave us empty.
 
The life Jesus offers is the living water that satisfies our every thirst, the love and goodness that chases us down all the days of our lives, and the mercy of God that pours out like oil over our brokenness. Jesus says that we will be happy, blessed, joyful, fulfilled and whole, in the sense of everything coming together as it was meant to be, heaven coming to earth, when we pursue his kingdom first. And so it’s opposite day. It’s the upside down kingdom that turns the world right side up.
 
But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. - Matthew 6:33

Sadly, it’s true that we often seek his kingdom last, not first. After all the demands of our jobs and families, our schoolwork and responsibilities. After we have some down time and some play time and some “me” time. After we have paid the bills and spent our monthly budgets. And well, this makes sense, right? Yes. But NO. You see, there is this upside down nature of the kingdom that should challenge how we as the church live into God’s dream for our communities and our neighborhoods. For church is not something to be “added” to our already overloaded, busy, stressed-out lives. It is not a Sunday event or a community social club.

The church is the hope of the world. And we are called to give our whole lives.
 
Excuse me if I am wrong, but isn’t this what Lent is all about? This journey to the cross and our whole-hearted surrender to Jesus? Dying to our desperate need for security, control and affirmation? So that. We might LIVE: A beautiful invitation to repent and realign our hearts and lives to the plumb line of God’s mercy and grace. For we are to seek God’s kingdom first.
 
And yet, this seems hard to do, especially when it seems we do not have enough. It is precisely in these moments that we are invited to practice hilarious generosity. For when we clench our fists tight instead of opening our hands wide, we will always struggle with “not enough.” I believe when we practice the kingdom first, it breaks the tyranny of never enough. As a pastor, I have heard countless stories of not enough time, not enough energy, not enough money, and not enough resources.
 
This is why people opt out or are taken out of the game. They simply can’t. Well, I challenge this assumption and this way of thinking. Reading our sacred text reminds me that all things are possible and that God gives freely to those who give freely. Sure, we may only have two fish and five small loaves in a multitude of need, but it is God’s to multiply. Ours to give.
 
This week, as we opened our arms and our wallets to a refugee family in the midst of our own financial struggles as a small faith community, I felt a shift. We put a stake in the ground to give generously out of our lack. To be more concerned with the call to love our neighbor and to welcome the stranger than our own interests, comfort and security. And I believe that God will bless us richly with more than enough.
 
You see, I believe when we put God’s ways first, whether it is our money, our time, keeping the Sabbath or our call to love neighbor, our lives come into kingdom alignment. And we experience the blessedness of the Beatitudes. For we don’t want to merely give our leftovers and complain about how we are stuck in life, never having enough, never satisfied. Instead, what would it look like for us as followers of Jesus to invest the whole of our lives? Not an hour or two on a Sunday morning. But to live into an alternative narrative of the kingdom, embodying the compassion of Jesus in our neighborhoods. Where we see every conversation, every mundane task, every connection, every challenge, and every need as an opportunity for God’s love to break in.

I want our small band of Jesus followers to seed our time and our energies not into programs or doing church stuff. But rather into God's work in our neighborhoods, schools, and workplaces. As a community, we are making choices to live into the dream of sharing life together for the sake of others. Choices that affect where and how we live. And as a pastor, I am well aware that I could spend the majority of my time just running the church; and yet I want to make decisions to be faithfully present and to invest first in God's kingdom here. To tutor at-risk children at Turning Point, to give generously to those in need, to offer spiritual direction to those who are seeking, and to offer hospitality to the lonely and the stranger. 

Can’t make Sunday morning? Well, forget about it! Make every day! This is the call to us as the church today. To live extravagantly and generously in the kingdom of love so that people will know our extravagant and generous God.
 
​
Some give freely, yet grow all the richer; [The world of the generous gets larger and larger.]
Others withhold what is due, and only suffer want. [The world of the stingy gets smaller and smaller.]
A generous person will be enriched, [The one who blesses others is abundantly blessed.]
And one who gives water will get water. [Those who help others are helped.] - Proverbs 11:24-25 [The Message]
 
Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you. - Luke 6:38
 
Tell those rich in this world’s wealth to quit being so full of themselves and so obsessed with money, which is here today and gone tomorrow. Tell them to go after God, who piles on all the riches we could ever manage—to do good, to be rich in helping others, to be extravagantly generous. If they do that, they’ll build a treasury that will last, gaining life that is truly life. - I Timothy 6:17-19
 
by Jessica Ketola