Last Monday our house had our community Thanksgiving dinner (yum!), after which we followed Bonnie-Marie’s family tradition of filling a blessing box with papers on which we had written what we are thankful for.

We’re thankful for so much. Here’s what we wrote:

Julie:
I’m thankful for…

· Friends and family, of course

· Michael, of course

· God’s faithfulness even when He seems far away

· The things I take for granted, like a house to live in, 2 jobs, health

Joel:

· I’m thankful that we all had the courage to move forward with this awesome house idea.

· I’m thankful for God providing me a job.

· I’m thankful for my wonderful, beautiful wife and the chance to start our life together in the midst of some great communities.

· I’m thankful for the delicious food that we all shared together tonight.

· I’m thankful for a loving family that is always eager and happy to see me, but is also supportive of my life apart from them.

· I’m thankful for you guys who cared more about having us n this community than about looking out for your own interests.

Paige:

I’m thankful for:

· health (so much more than just a few years ago)

· 1 ½ years of marriage (and how we’re being stretched and our love is deepening)

· wonderful jobs (1 year ago I was unemployed and Paul’s job wasn’t all it is today… now they’re great!)

· our community house (we could’ve never imagined…)

· my mom not having cancer (praise God!)

· growing relationships @ Westminster (and new found opportunities to serve)

· enough $ to save some

· bounty, bounty, bounty

· seeing God’s hand and answered prayers in some specific ways this year

· direction in pursuing coaching certification

Michael:
I’m thankful for:

· The wisdom of others

· Provisions & Security

· The Church & Its Mission

· Family & Friends

· The Holy Spirit / God’s Omnipresence

· Beauty

· Rest

· Work – Being able to take part in God’s redemption

Jessi:

I’m thankful for:

· This house, and all the friendships within

· Joel – the way he loves me so selflessly and cares about even the small things that matter to me

· Bonnie-Marie – the way she’s been willing to be real with us & the way she inspires me to care for what God cares about

· Paige – the way she’s exemplified a humble & teachable spirit this year and makes things more beautiful

· Paul – his ability to put words to what’s true & right & good

· Michael – his sense of humor that keeps us from being too serious, balanced by a heart that cares deeply for people

· Julie – for her impeccable wit and tender heart toward God & others

· For my brother, who will always have a special place in my heart

· For my parents who have loved me so well and now become my good friends

· For Gram, who taught me to give to those in need … and who taught me how to dance

Paul:

I’m thankful:

· That we all have good jobs.

· That we have rich friendships in this community and in Dayton.

· For: English Brown ale, fire pits, Sufjan Stevens, & good books.

· For an incredible family in good health.

· For the richness of life & the promise of redemption.

· For Jonathan Crompten.

· For a wife that dearly loves me.

Bonnie-Marie:

I’m thankful for:

· My community mates –

Michael – who shares history & politics with me.

Julie – who has a great sense of humor and is a great BBQ friend.

Paul – who always want to do something awesome – and shared his theology classes

Jessi – who makes the best dill green beans and decorates to make space so beautiful

Paige – who plans, remembers, & listens – who appreciates Remington Steel & Sherlock Holmes

Trig – who tells great stories & gets working w/HS students too

· Good friends: Anneli, Hayley, Jess, Zoe, Pam, & Danielle

· Financial resources to apply for law school – all the support everyone has given me

· My family & my Dad who tells me he is proud of me, my mom who now chats with me & my bro who I love more than anyone else

· My granny and extended family

· My time in Vancouver and the lessons God began there of freedom, humility and grace

· That there is freedom for all bondage in the here after and hope of that in the present through Jesus Christ

· My students

Our community recently hosted a fascinating person at our dinner table.

His name is Norm Jones, and he and his wife are both artists. She is a painter and he is an actor and director. Norm is highly accomplished and respected in his field. He has written, performed, and acted in countless plays. He commissioned Cry Innocent, the longest continuously-running show north of Boston that has been featured on the Discovery Channel, the Travel Channel, A&E, Nickelodeon, TLC, NPR, BBC, CNN and MTV.

But for Norm Jones, each day he can see his wife’s artwork or use his gifts is precious, because Norm is going blind.

But losing his vision has caused him to see some things more clearly. “As my vision of myself as person is being revised,” Norm said, “I'm learning to accept the difficult lesson of being more dependent on other people and on God.”

Norm now walks with a white cane, a step of dependence that was difficult for him to take at first. But he found that embracing the cane brought more opportunities than he ever would have imagined.

“Watch this,” Norm whispered to Joel and I as we headed out of a crowded room. People came scurrying to open the door, to help us hold things, to assist. Because of his cane, a visible sign of dependence on others, Norm has been able to connect with people more quickly and easily than ever before in his life.

What really struck me about Norm was his open posture, his readiness to share his own story and to connect it to the stories of those around him. He’s one of those people who lives in a beautiful balance between childlike wonder and depth of thought and meaning. He finds God in the beauty of the ordinary. In fact, after spending some time with him, I started to wonder if Norm was actually seeing more than I was.

I hope we can drink in these true words from him:

“Share your own imperfections-your hurt, your loss, your grief--with the hurting, grieving Body of Christ, in whom God's perfect Spirit dwells; who--despite us and because of us--God uses to speak to one another through His grace.”

For more of his story, read the article he wrote, “Visions and Revisions: The Journey of an Artist Losing His Eyesight”

“http://www.gordon.edu/article.cfm?iArticleID=540&iReferrerPageID=2114&iPrevCatID=94&bLive=1

It isn't a night at the house without a reading of "How the Child of God Should Dress." Note the conviction and dismay on the faces of most all of us--and the resolute judgment on the face of Joel.














One couch, one house.

The hospitable reception of a guest is more than just opening the door of one’s home to another (although that may be a part of it). It is actually more fundamentally about opening one’s self to another. Author Henri Nouwen is one of the voices leading me into this new way of contemplating hospitality. In his book, Reaching Out: The Three Movements of The Spiritual Life, Nouwen shares that the type of hospitality that truly matters is rooted in the creation of a free space within and around the host, into which a “stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy.” This space is free and safe because in it the host does not seek to change visitors, but instead provides them the room in which change can occur. And it is the gift-like extension of this kind of space that can be truly healing.

Elizabeth Newman, in her book Untamed Hospitality: Welcoming God and Other Strangers, says that hospitality is a move toward “being with” others instead of just “doing for” others – a process which is often messy and which requires the hospitable person to “give up concern with efficiency and results and to ‘waste time’” on and with other human souls. Hospitality, then, is not just opening my front door, it is opening my mind, heart, and soul. It is inviting others in spite of – and, in fact, into – my messiness.

In The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society, Nouwen says that humans are desperate to be acknowledged in all their brokenness and responded to by their fellow man. It is within our context of cultural independence, individualism, and isolation that is becomes so crucial, as Nouwen says, for “Christians to offer an open and hospitable space where strangers can cast off their strangeness and become our fellow human beings.” In fact, it seems to be the case that we cannot take away the sufferings of our fellow men without entering into them with our whole being, accepting the risk of being wounded ourselves.

As Christians, we must share with our fellow human beings in both the common pain of our basic brokenness as well as the hope of God’s promise of salvation. As we share in these two ways, we will likely watch community rise around us. We were created with togetherness in mind, and there is deep solidarity to be found as we together recognize the reality of our shattered condition and seek to grasp the magnificent dimensions of the grand restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I am learning that it is my incarnational task to make room within my life and offer the invitation of togetherness to those around me: to journey together, share together, laugh together, grow together, and grieve together. Hospitality, then, starts with inviting another person into my life and letting them know right off the bat that they are truly wanted here.

This is a song I wrote a few years ago, and some friends and I turned it into a music video last summer. Check out the video here.

It’s been about two months since Joel and I moved into our first home together—into what we have all now affectionately deemed “the Kedesh house.” It’s certainly not what I would have pictured a year ago. To be quite honest, I was excited about the idea theoretically, but when we actually started considering it as a real possibility, I wasn’t too sure. I was concerned—Won’t we need to establish our own identity as a new family? Will we have enough privacy? Don’t our jobs engage us in enough outgoing ministry already? What if we all end up hating each other? Can we afford it? These and other concerns rose to the surface as we talked together, but as we took the idea to our trusted advisors, we couldn’t help but dwell in the realm of possibility: what if this year of life together—a year of intentional community for the purpose of reaching out and reaching in—what if this year of life together was what God wanted to use to deeply shape our souls for the rest of our lives?

I work in the Department of Spiritual Formation at Bryan College, so I’m in the business of soul-shaping. Spiritual formation isn’t a new way of saying “campus ministry.” It’s actually far more holistic and—for Bryan—far more closely tied to the academic curriculum. Spiritual formation has to do with the process by which we invite the Spirit to transform our interior life in such a way that it becomes like the interior life of Christ. And the outflow of an interior life that is shaped like Christ’s is a person who sees their own story as part of God’s greater story for the world—a person who lives in ways that inspire others around them toward the reality of God’s Kingdom in our world here and now.

All of us in this community are Bryan grads, and we’ve all been exposed to spiritual formation during our time at Bryan. We tasted something really good there, something really authentic. And now we want to pursue spiritual formation on our own.

I wonder how we will nurture spiritual maturity in each other and inspire each other toward Kingdom living. I wonder how we will pray with each other and carry each other’s burdens. I wonder how we will “meet and dwell with Jesus and his Father in the disciplines for the spiritual life.” I wonder how we will open each other’s eyes to people in our community who need the outstretched hand of healing and compassion that Jesus would offer. I wonder how we will let each other uproot pride, selfishness, and petty needs from dark places in our hearts that have long evaded tending. I wonder how we will invite the Holy Spirit to do his work among us and through us this year.

The deepest ache of the soul is the spiritual longing for connection and belonging. To be human is to have been designed for intimate relationship with the Divine. In spite of the messages of Western culture, personal fulfillment lies in connection, not autonomy. Spirituality is the discovery of the fundamental connection that exists between us and God - a connection that properly aligns us to others, the world, and our deepest self.

--David G. Benner

If I had to use one word to describe the first few weeks of our year together it would be bounty. We have had a bounty of relationship, not only among ourselves, but with a host of guests. We have had a bounty of laughter. Eveningfuls of it. We have had a bounty of food; creamy curries, midnight pancakes and bacon, beer-boiled brats with apples and onions, rich chicken salad, spaghetti and meat sauce--variety and flavor and abundance. We have had a bounty of play: highly competitive Cranium games, Lost marathons, fine cigars.

This abundance raises a question. How are we to respond to bounty?

It would seem that our first response should be to simply receive. No good gift comes from anywhere but God, writes the Apostle James. We are children caught up in Christmas morning, as our Father delights in our delight over what great surprises we are about to unwrap. To not be able to simply receive is to be a poor child.

But this can be difficult for us heavily-churched folks. I've often felt that my first response to the good gifts of God is to weigh them in light of my worthiness. Why should I dine on curry? What of the starving? What of the malnourished? These questions, which are vital to a full theology of bounty and essentially tied to the Gospel story, can be arrived at too quickly. To rush to them is to abort the gift. When I do this I end up passing quickly through the gift experience with a sense of guilt, neither experiencing any good nor doing any charity.

This guilt-driven deficiency is at odds with the Kingdom-entering child. The great Reformed preacher Jonathan Edwards wrote "He that truly receives redemption, receives it as a little child." The Reformers were adamant that our salvation is anchored to the idea of simply receiving: we bring nothing, God brings everything. The Kingdom belongs to the empty-handed kid.

And it is not merely our salvation--we are gloriously dependent on the ordinary elements of air and light; we are clay whose forming is none of its own, indulgently partaking in the free buffet of beauty, taste, and joy. To receive well is to posture ourselves properly before YHWH-Yireh, the one who provides, and YHWH-Tsidkenu, the one who is our righteousness.

Another difficulty comes from my own bloated consumerism, which leads me to passively intake without thought or question. This disease is rooted not in an addiction to good things but in a numbing to them. We over-consume because we fail to recognize. We are gluttons not because we enjoy donuts too much but because we do not pause to enjoy a donut well.

Consumerism is passive. Receiving well is anything but passive.

It requires concentration, being aware of the goodness of the gift and the generosity of the Giver. To hurriedly down the fine glass of wine, to skim the poem, to stare at a TV screen in the company of immortals, is to be unaware and thus unreceptive. "Be still and know that I am God," the One who has given you all good things.

It also requires articulation. When a gift is heralded and named, and thankfulness and appreciation are spoken, the receiver embraces more fully the Giver.

So here I am, living in a bounty-filled house, battling on one side the deadly consumerism woven around me and on the other side the guilt-driven overreaction. Its not an old fight. Indulgence or restraint? Revelry or Gnosticism? Self-centered consumption or deficient self-denial?

And the answer is "Yes." There is a time to fast. There is a time to sacrifice. There is a time to enjoy. There is a time to savor.

We begin by standing open-handed, in awe of being created, receiving from the Giver the richness He delights to give.