There' a well-worn proverb I've heard many times over the years, but it never embedded. Late last week, Tricia and I were watching a harmless reality show called North Woods Law. It's about the adventures and challenges of being a Game Warden in Maine. I watch because I love anything back country-open space. It's in my blood. These folks make their living in such environs.
Anyway, early in the show one of the Wardens has to check on a family that might be violent because of drug dealing, and the word is out they're keeping a ball python in their house. Twice in the first few minutes of the show, he says about checking things out, "Nothing ventured; nothing gained." Apparently, this proverb has a long history, the saying dates back to Chaucer (c. 1374).
For reasons I realize now, it stuck because God has been "prodding" me to finally address my life-long struggle with anxiety. I won't write about it now, but suffice it to say, it has caused problems in my life, and probably resulted in some losses.
"Nothing ventured; nothing gained," stood out and stuck in because the Holy Spirit has been dealing with my decades-long, irrational fear of asking for money. It could be asking clients to pay me for my work, including reminding them about it. I always felt uneasy about taking a paycheck because I've worked in non-profits for decades. This fear is nuts, but resiliently influential.
Skip forward to asking imagine donors to donate, and I lean toward panic. Procrastination is my shield. To be fair, I had an almost traumatic experience with asking for donations a decade ago. I was talked into it and then rebuked harshly by the very person who encouraged me to give it a try. Initiating the ask for money feels for me like intruding or stepping over a boundary. Yet,God's made it clear - even through Tricia - I am to get over my fear and ask with gentle assertiveness, i.e., nothing ventured; nothing gained. It's a responsibility I've been given:
Not venturing to ask is to refuse to offer others opportunity to give.
Not venturing to ask is to deny what God seeks to provide through his people.
Not venturing to ask is to deny his family the responsibility to give to his work.
Not venturing to ask allows the evil one to delay the progress of Kingdom mission through intimidation and lies.
What is not gained by asking is lost, or at the very least, delayed because of inaction. Anxiety becomes a wicked ally of cowardice, irresponsibility, and insipid resignation.
So. I'm gradually learning to silence this enemy in many areas of my life. I sincerely want to gain the ability to make the ask and watch what God provides through his generous ones. More importantly, I want finally to know I've taken a deeper responsibility for the work he's given us, and for the resources lying in wait for me to venture forth and receive from his hand.
I've begun to venture out, but please pray for me and hold me accountable. I'll need both for a while.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
The Simple Kindness of Lasagna Well-Made For Strangers.
Last night, Tricia, Janet and Kevin Williams served at the Interfaith Shelter on Center Street in Northampton. Thank you, guys! Many if not most of us at imagine have prepared and/or served a meal there. For everyone involved it's a heartening experience because you get to be around men and women, young and old whose lives for all sorts of reasons have come apart. They are homeless, un-or under-employed, mentally ill, or struggling with substance abuse. For some, it could be all of the above.
The feeling I get when at the Shelter is their lives have become cut-off and adrift. They are living, but not living forward in any substantial way. Some are in recovery and counseling. They are slowly working on getting well and free. A few are fresh out of prison, but have no place to go yet. Others wait for housing, or work that might provide a living wage. Some shelter guests prefer living independently on the street, but come out of the cold for a night or two. Still, they are chronically alone and estranged. Occasionally, we meet someone who is homeless for the first time, afraid, not sure what to do or how they got there. There are many stories, but similar story-lines of loss, disarray and brokenness.
So we show up on a Wednesday night once a month with food we've made, and the opportunity to serve people with it. At imagine, we use food as a way to bless people. We're blessed to have talented folks in our midst (professionally trained and/or naturally gifted), who take food prep, presentation, and quality very seriously because we all want others to enjoy the goodness of God in a meal. We want it to be sumptuous, unexpected and delicious. We want folks in the shelter to delight in the fact we serve them not just what's leftover or what we can throw together on the cheap, but good food, carefully made. We want the guests to feel they matter because of the effort invested on their behalf. We want to surprise them.
We did something similar, but on a larger scale, when we put on FEAST for Easter at the Northampton Center for the Arts a couple of years back. Our motive was the same. I wrote a blog-post about it. In it I said:
Our serving at the shelter holds the this desire to uncommonly grace these folks in their troubling time of dislocation, disorientation, or resigned despair. We're not over the top with it where people feel uncomfortable, but we want to show them that in Jesus's eyes they are loved more than they know. These "least of these" his brethren, are our brethren too. We are our brothers' and sisters' keepers. They are his guests.
We serve great food they don't expect, and they are enlivened a little bit. I have been told twice by 2 different Shelter staff that regulars remember and look forward to imagine/Northampton bringing the meal. I hope that's true of others who graciously bring food there also, but finding out we brighten their lives when so much else in their days has gone wrong is warms us. It's nice to give someone something to look forward to when so much they experience is just plain hard.
We want to do far more to help homeless, broken people get unstuck and heading toward who they were meant to be, especially in coming to discover and know this God who is far more than they imagine. Hospitality and delicious food -- something we have been committed to since being here -- is a winsome, fulfilling way to grace people, whether in our homes, Sunday morning, or serving at the shelter. Doing good to others humanizes us, thus softening our hearts to perhaps risk sacrificing more for the "fading away ones" who perhaps can take a step toward coming back into view because of the simple kindness of lasagna well-made for strangers.
May we never lose this desire to delight, enchant and grace people beyond what they expect, or have settled for. A little wonder can work deep into the heart by way of the palate.
The feeling I get when at the Shelter is their lives have become cut-off and adrift. They are living, but not living forward in any substantial way. Some are in recovery and counseling. They are slowly working on getting well and free. A few are fresh out of prison, but have no place to go yet. Others wait for housing, or work that might provide a living wage. Some shelter guests prefer living independently on the street, but come out of the cold for a night or two. Still, they are chronically alone and estranged. Occasionally, we meet someone who is homeless for the first time, afraid, not sure what to do or how they got there. There are many stories, but similar story-lines of loss, disarray and brokenness.
So we show up on a Wednesday night once a month with food we've made, and the opportunity to serve people with it. At imagine, we use food as a way to bless people. We're blessed to have talented folks in our midst (professionally trained and/or naturally gifted), who take food prep, presentation, and quality very seriously because we all want others to enjoy the goodness of God in a meal. We want it to be sumptuous, unexpected and delicious. We want folks in the shelter to delight in the fact we serve them not just what's leftover or what we can throw together on the cheap, but good food, carefully made. We want the guests to feel they matter because of the effort invested on their behalf. We want to surprise them.
We did something similar, but on a larger scale, when we put on FEAST for Easter at the Northampton Center for the Arts a couple of years back. Our motive was the same. I wrote a blog-post about it. In it I said:
I must celebrate God who answered our prayer that his guests would feel special; despite their circumstances, they mattered and he delighted in blessing them on this Day of days. Everyone I spoke with, including guys who referred to their address as "in the woods," was blown away by how they were treated and served. The beauty of the room and how the table was set elegantly, the lavish menu, including desserts you'd find at a 4-star restaurant, and the kindness shown them by the team and volunteers sent a clear message. People were overwhelmed saying things such as: "I've never eaten a meal like this," or "I feel I was treated like a king," or "This is amazing!" He honored our desire to create a good memory for people.
Our serving at the shelter holds the this desire to uncommonly grace these folks in their troubling time of dislocation, disorientation, or resigned despair. We're not over the top with it where people feel uncomfortable, but we want to show them that in Jesus's eyes they are loved more than they know. These "least of these" his brethren, are our brethren too. We are our brothers' and sisters' keepers. They are his guests.
We serve great food they don't expect, and they are enlivened a little bit. I have been told twice by 2 different Shelter staff that regulars remember and look forward to imagine/Northampton bringing the meal. I hope that's true of others who graciously bring food there also, but finding out we brighten their lives when so much else in their days has gone wrong is warms us. It's nice to give someone something to look forward to when so much they experience is just plain hard.
We want to do far more to help homeless, broken people get unstuck and heading toward who they were meant to be, especially in coming to discover and know this God who is far more than they imagine. Hospitality and delicious food -- something we have been committed to since being here -- is a winsome, fulfilling way to grace people, whether in our homes, Sunday morning, or serving at the shelter. Doing good to others humanizes us, thus softening our hearts to perhaps risk sacrificing more for the "fading away ones" who perhaps can take a step toward coming back into view because of the simple kindness of lasagna well-made for strangers.
May we never lose this desire to delight, enchant and grace people beyond what they expect, or have settled for. A little wonder can work deep into the heart by way of the palate.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Imago:Self Portraits w/ Disposable Camera, January 11, 2013.
Five days ago imagine/Northampton opened it's gallery for the fourth month to Arts Night Out Northampton. It was a cold and rainy January Friday, but people were out. Some were going to the galleries and other venues in town.
In our minds, last Friday night was an experiment within an EXPERIMENT - the latter being offering the imagineGALLERY at all. The prior months were more traditional in the media we showed: paintings, photography and wall-hangings plus hand-made books. All very well-done and well-received.
Last Friday's experiment took a different tack. Let me give you the back story. A number of weeks back, we asked CT poet and friend, Brad Davis, if he'd be willing to do something for our January exhibition. We asked him to come up with an idea. Beyond being a friend and a fellow color-outside-the lines Jesus follower, he has graced our space before first in September, 2010, when he coordinated and collaborated with poets Jendi Reiter and Nancy Watkins Denig for an evening of their poetry called the splendid ordinary. Then, last spring, he offered a day workshop for creatives called Place and Possibility. Both were well done and we knew he'd come up with something cool
He did.
He named it IMAGO: self portraits w/ disposable camera. The idea came from a chapbook he created called I & We You & I: self portrait w/ disposable camera. For those who don't know what a chapbook is: "a chapbook is a small book or pamphlet containing poems, ballads, stories, or tracts. The term is still used today to refer to short, inexpensive booklets." (web.mit.edu/21h.418/www/nhausman/chap1.html) His concept for the evening was people would come to the gallery and have the opportunity to have a portrait Tricia would take with a Polaroid camera in any pose they liked. They would also have to somehow hold or pose a small disposable camera in their portrait. Their posing was supposed to be personal and expressive of how they see themselves. Then, periodically, Brad would read from his chapbook.
To create a buzz, Trey McCain and I went out on Main Street with handbills to entice folks to come and see our gallery. We encountered young and old. Some were not gallery-hopping; others were, and many we handed handbills to actually took us up on our invitation. Our trudging around paid off.
When people came up into the space they had three opportunities. The first, was to sample the wonderful food, some of it gourmet, we put out for each reception. It's part of offering quality and enhancing their overall experience. People ate. Ben, the street guy, piled a plate 3 inches high at it's apex. The second, was the chance to hear Brad ably read poems from his chapbook two times an hour. People sat and listened. They responded appreciatively. Their feedback was that of interest and connection. The third opportunity, was to sit for their picture in their preferred poses.
Those who participated in the evening said it was fun and different. We loved the fact they joined in making the IMAGO collage of Polaroids. Some were playful. Some were reserved. There were couples and individuals each expressing a visual notion of who they are, or how they wanted to be seen in the image.. There was even a triad of friends.
We were so glad Brad and Deb Davis were with us. We always are. They got to see Brad's creative idea enfleshed so to speak - the creative word blended with the created image making strangers collaborators in the imagineGALLERY space. Simple gestures and evocative word images married. Tastes and sounds and images all working together to create a simple happening for a few hours. It felt good.
Equally important was people came into the space who'd never been there before. That led to conversations about what imagine is. No one ran screaming from the building when they discovered imagineGALLERY was an effort of imagine/Northampton, a church. Their assumed categories were altered a bit, I bet. We like that. Challenging cultural assumptions, and doing so with unexpected dollops of grace builds a human bridge.
We like that too. A lot.
Who knows how this EXPERIMENT will morph over the next months. We hope it'll create relationships, offer support for artists, and reveal that "church folk" can be about community or cultural activities which don't seem or look very churchy. In other words, what if people could let down their guard a bit, enjoy some art together, and perhaps, just perhaps, have a conversation about eternal things without everybody getting all weird.
We really like that!!!
Sunday, November 18, 2012
You're a Frickin' Church?
Last night as I was manning my 5-7PM post at the imagineGallery for Joe Don Richardson's Deep Waters exhibit of photography: http://oldmenplantingchurches.blogspot.com/2012/11/imaginenorthamptons-arts-night-out-2.html, a middle-aged couple and their 20-something daughter walked into the space. We exchanged greetings and they headed into the front room where most of his work hangs.
When they returned from viewing, they had all manner of praise for his photographs and our gallery, especially the woman. She gushed a bit. I was delighted, to be honest. She then asked how long we'd been here? I told her we'd come up from Connecticut 4+ years ago, and had been at our current location for a little over 3 years. Next, she asked what was our mission and vision for the gallery?
Wow, what an open door! So I said we're a church at which point she blurted all wide-eyed, "A frickin' church???" "Yup," I said adding, "actually that's our byline: "We're a frickin' church!" They all laughed good-naturedly. I then went on to tell them what we're about, why we have the weird name, and why we are using our space part-time as an art gallery. She apologized for using the word "frickin'", adding she is normally "church-averse." I told her I was not offended by either, and talked a little bit more about what artists we had coming next.
She and her husband then asked if we had any materials and if we met as a church in the building? I responded we offer counseling during the week, but had moved our Sunday worship elsewhere. They took one more look at Joe Don's work, and then as they headed out the door, she turned abruptly and said, "I don't know what it is, but there is just something about this space." I nodded and smiled.
Our entire interaction lasted maybe 3-4 minutes. I loved every minute of it. As mentioned in the blog about Joe Don's Opening Reception, we have received many remarks about the space. People are curious about who we are, especially when we mention we are church folk. They have no category for how we're being church. I'm getting better at responding to such questions. When I do, people always seem to have a, "Well whadya know!" look on their faces. The fact we are doing a pretty good job at being a gallery doesn't hurt either, but the most fun is engaging people about church and faith in such a context.
And it's laugh-out-loud funny when a diminutive, 60-something woman pairs the word "frickin'" with "church" in the same sentence. Made my night!!!
By the way, you really should come out and see Joe Don's work. We'll be open this Saturday evening from 5-9 PM, and the following Friday and Saturday, 5-9PM also.
When they returned from viewing, they had all manner of praise for his photographs and our gallery, especially the woman. She gushed a bit. I was delighted, to be honest. She then asked how long we'd been here? I told her we'd come up from Connecticut 4+ years ago, and had been at our current location for a little over 3 years. Next, she asked what was our mission and vision for the gallery?
Wow, what an open door! So I said we're a church at which point she blurted all wide-eyed, "A frickin' church???" "Yup," I said adding, "actually that's our byline: "We're a frickin' church!" They all laughed good-naturedly. I then went on to tell them what we're about, why we have the weird name, and why we are using our space part-time as an art gallery. She apologized for using the word "frickin'", adding she is normally "church-averse." I told her I was not offended by either, and talked a little bit more about what artists we had coming next.
She and her husband then asked if we had any materials and if we met as a church in the building? I responded we offer counseling during the week, but had moved our Sunday worship elsewhere. They took one more look at Joe Don's work, and then as they headed out the door, she turned abruptly and said, "I don't know what it is, but there is just something about this space." I nodded and smiled.
Our entire interaction lasted maybe 3-4 minutes. I loved every minute of it. As mentioned in the blog about Joe Don's Opening Reception, we have received many remarks about the space. People are curious about who we are, especially when we mention we are church folk. They have no category for how we're being church. I'm getting better at responding to such questions. When I do, people always seem to have a, "Well whadya know!" look on their faces. The fact we are doing a pretty good job at being a gallery doesn't hurt either, but the most fun is engaging people about church and faith in such a context.
And it's laugh-out-loud funny when a diminutive, 60-something woman pairs the word "frickin'" with "church" in the same sentence. Made my night!!!
By the way, you really should come out and see Joe Don's work. We'll be open this Saturday evening from 5-9 PM, and the following Friday and Saturday, 5-9PM also.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Introversion, Anxiety and Collaborating in Northampton.
In 2010, I wrote a blog asserting that introverts can plant churches. I still stick by that assertion.
http://oldmenplantingchurches.blogspot.com/2010/01/do-introverts-make-good-church-planters.html. Here we are four and a half years into this and we are planted; we're still small, but planted nonetheless. We have life and a purpose.We're heading somewhere and have braved the spiritual "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," plus our own greenhornness. It's been a ride and not for the faint of heart, at least in New England.
I got to thinking about my introversion after having experienced almost 2 weeks of agita over making contacts with folks who might serve as collaborators with our effort to launch imagine's first OPEN TABLE in Northampton. Trey McCain and I took on the task of compiling a list of folks who might be interested, or direct us to others who would. From there we searched the Internet, gathered email addresses and made the first contact. So far so good. The next step was to call them. Oh-oh...
That's when the irrational procrastination really settled into me.
In my head began a noxious monologue like this: "I'm going to have to talk to strangers. Rats! They don't want to talk to me. Anyway, I'll garble it all up when I try to articulate the Open Table concept. That's if I even get a chance to explain it. They're veterans in the effort to help people find shelter and meals, overcome addiction, get off the street and out of poverty, get help for their children," and on and on. We're at the most "new kids on the block," with a great idea sure, but nothing to back it up with yet! You know what, I'll call tomorrow. Yeah, that's it. I don't have to call today ..." Tomorrow became a week of tomorrows and growing pressure. I gotta get this done!
You can get a sense of the anxious blather working to hamstring me.
But yesterday I took the plunge. I decided I'm going be a big boy and tackle this thing. Just work through the list and let the chips fall where they may. The first number I called was a young man working for a prominent service organization in town. I introduced who I was and why I was calling and away we went. He was gracious, intrigued and supportive. He did what you hope for and told me there was someone I really needed to talk with who would be very helpful. As my first call, I felt a little stumbly, but it didn't seem to impede our conversation.
Bolstered by my initial connection I kept on and each person I talked to was open and affirming as they say in another context here. In fact, one person was quite excited by the Open Table idea and the fact we wanted to launch one in Northampton (the first in New England I understand). She inquired about the church (others did as well), and affirmed our desire to help in this. It sounded innovative to her. She also gave me a contact of someone who gathers all the service people once a month to share ideas and resources to help the homeless and working poor recover.
After I was done with those and other phone calls, plus setting up some meetings for next week with folks, I felt excited that perhaps we were on the path to being a real contributor to the well-being of our neighbors well-beyond the ways we'd been helping. We'd have a place at the table for the Kingdom as we've wanted to. We had something of value to offer in this war on poverty. The Open Table idea is not ours, but the work in Northampton will be. Also, we'll get to build relationships with folks and they with us. That's the point in all of this: building relationships and breaking down walls so we can offer the hope in Christ we have to them as friends and collaborators in something we both care about. And we can help make life better for everyone.
I also learned something about the deceit of anxiety as it's expressed through introversion. It takes a temperament for self-containment and self-fulfillment (as in: I'm most comfortable pursuing what is intriguing, or fascinating by myself), and exaggerates the weight of feeling exposed or incapable in front of others, especially when having to engage someone new with something important to one's self .The fear of the interaction is grossly overblown; because the person on the other end of the exchange now has a say in what is being offered, it can be perceived as threatening even if mildly so.
The thing is, I actually felt great pleasure after the phone calls and not merely because I 'd been successful at plowing through the list. Rather, I'd connected with folks about something I care a great deal about and see great potential in, and they resonated with me. It feels good and it felt right as if the Kingdom had an opening that was not there before. We'll see, but something good was established yesterday. I know it. I sense it.
I'll always be an introvert, but what I experienced yesterday only affirms I can break new ground in engaging folks for the Kingdom by ways and means initially uncomfortable to me but useful to Christ. I also get to meet some lovely people as well! Worth the doing, I think, no matter the anxiety.
http://oldmenplantingchurches.blogspot.com/2010/01/do-introverts-make-good-church-planters.html. Here we are four and a half years into this and we are planted; we're still small, but planted nonetheless. We have life and a purpose.We're heading somewhere and have braved the spiritual "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," plus our own greenhornness. It's been a ride and not for the faint of heart, at least in New England.
I got to thinking about my introversion after having experienced almost 2 weeks of agita over making contacts with folks who might serve as collaborators with our effort to launch imagine's first OPEN TABLE in Northampton. Trey McCain and I took on the task of compiling a list of folks who might be interested, or direct us to others who would. From there we searched the Internet, gathered email addresses and made the first contact. So far so good. The next step was to call them. Oh-oh...
That's when the irrational procrastination really settled into me.
In my head began a noxious monologue like this: "I'm going to have to talk to strangers. Rats! They don't want to talk to me. Anyway, I'll garble it all up when I try to articulate the Open Table concept. That's if I even get a chance to explain it. They're veterans in the effort to help people find shelter and meals, overcome addiction, get off the street and out of poverty, get help for their children," and on and on. We're at the most "new kids on the block," with a great idea sure, but nothing to back it up with yet! You know what, I'll call tomorrow. Yeah, that's it. I don't have to call today ..." Tomorrow became a week of tomorrows and growing pressure. I gotta get this done!
You can get a sense of the anxious blather working to hamstring me.
But yesterday I took the plunge. I decided I'm going be a big boy and tackle this thing. Just work through the list and let the chips fall where they may. The first number I called was a young man working for a prominent service organization in town. I introduced who I was and why I was calling and away we went. He was gracious, intrigued and supportive. He did what you hope for and told me there was someone I really needed to talk with who would be very helpful. As my first call, I felt a little stumbly, but it didn't seem to impede our conversation.
Bolstered by my initial connection I kept on and each person I talked to was open and affirming as they say in another context here. In fact, one person was quite excited by the Open Table idea and the fact we wanted to launch one in Northampton (the first in New England I understand). She inquired about the church (others did as well), and affirmed our desire to help in this. It sounded innovative to her. She also gave me a contact of someone who gathers all the service people once a month to share ideas and resources to help the homeless and working poor recover.
After I was done with those and other phone calls, plus setting up some meetings for next week with folks, I felt excited that perhaps we were on the path to being a real contributor to the well-being of our neighbors well-beyond the ways we'd been helping. We'd have a place at the table for the Kingdom as we've wanted to. We had something of value to offer in this war on poverty. The Open Table idea is not ours, but the work in Northampton will be. Also, we'll get to build relationships with folks and they with us. That's the point in all of this: building relationships and breaking down walls so we can offer the hope in Christ we have to them as friends and collaborators in something we both care about. And we can help make life better for everyone.
I also learned something about the deceit of anxiety as it's expressed through introversion. It takes a temperament for self-containment and self-fulfillment (as in: I'm most comfortable pursuing what is intriguing, or fascinating by myself), and exaggerates the weight of feeling exposed or incapable in front of others, especially when having to engage someone new with something important to one's self .The fear of the interaction is grossly overblown; because the person on the other end of the exchange now has a say in what is being offered, it can be perceived as threatening even if mildly so.
The thing is, I actually felt great pleasure after the phone calls and not merely because I 'd been successful at plowing through the list. Rather, I'd connected with folks about something I care a great deal about and see great potential in, and they resonated with me. It feels good and it felt right as if the Kingdom had an opening that was not there before. We'll see, but something good was established yesterday. I know it. I sense it.
I'll always be an introvert, but what I experienced yesterday only affirms I can break new ground in engaging folks for the Kingdom by ways and means initially uncomfortable to me but useful to Christ. I also get to meet some lovely people as well! Worth the doing, I think, no matter the anxiety.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Running Into Raymond.
I've seen him before on the streets of Northampton, mostly in the evening. When I do, he's generally "half-cocked" as he calls his drunkenness. He's short in stature, extroverted and a bit ornery. His name is Raymond. He says he's a roofer who's been in these parts since the "70's. He says he's a Vietnam vet as well. Raymond usually has much to say.
Tuesday night, Jim LaMontagne and I were returning from the Neilson Library on the Smith College campus where we'd just listened to a lecture on Jonathan Edwards by a historian named Ronald Story. He'd written a book called Jonathan Edwards and the Gospel of Love, and we wanted to hear what he had to say given the reality of the impact Edwards had on the American Christian ethos in the mid-18th century. It was no small thing that he was a pastor in Northampton for a number of years as well.
We'd just returned and were chatting in front of the doorway into our building when Raymond came across the street and headed right for us. He started talking in our direction before we realized he had us in his sights. For the next 20 minutes or so, he regaled us with everything from a false bomb scare happening a few minutes ago up the street, to Revolutionary and Civil War history, to asparagus and grass fields on Rte.9 back in the day. We functioned as an audience for him. He peppered his discourse liberally with f-bombs (sometimes like a cascade), and other assorted expletives. Occasionally, he'd ask about us, but our answers just served as launching pads for his next observation.
Raymond is an alcoholic and more than likely has been one for decades. I never see him when he's not lit up.
He has the gift of gab when he's that way, but I wonder what he's like when he's sober. Is he quiet, shy, easy-going, or detached? I have no way of knowing so far.
That's the problem with alcoholics or drug addicts actively using; you can never peer into who they really are. Getting drugs, using drugs and coming down from using drugs take center stage in their lives. They are high or trying to get high. Trying to have an actual conversation with them or get to know them beyond the surface has proven very tough so far. It's frustrating, because it's not of any substance in the sense the person you're interacting with is distorted by the madness of the addiction. You might get glimmers into them, but nothing to hold onto.
The drug effects are always the "third person" in the conversation. Who knows what's real?
I feel sad in a way because I know there is a someone looking back at or talking to me, but I can't get to know him or her. I want to find out who the real person is and hear his story. I want to offer Christ and the love he holds out to them. I want to say, "Let's figure out how you can work to overcome the past, get back on your feet, and show the world what you might be made of." If I can't get there, they remain a kind of burlesquish caricature to me -- by that I mean a distorted parody of who they might be underneath. What a travesty because this same person bears the image of God. I don't like such diminishing of any human being.
Remember, I'm referring to people who've been this way for years. They've lived on the streets, moved in and out of prison, lost jobs, spouses, families and friends; they've hurt those who've loved them, thus eventually consigning themselves to an aimless, disconnected slavery. Many have been to counseling, been in rehab and attended many AA meetings, even worked the 12-Steps. But, using and trying to stop using has become a Sisyphean struggle of sorts for folks at it for decades: 2 steps forward, 3 steps back, and on and on.
After a while, I've found myself avoiding them, feeling it a waste of time to interact to any degree. I'll give them a buck or two occasionally, but that feels foolish, or acquiescing to the addiction thus cooperating with their demise. At the same time, to ignore them is to ignore our common humanity. I turn a blind eye to their suffering. I join all the others who do so without giving it a thought. That's not OK.
Perhaps, as we heard in the Edward's lecture Tuesday night, I must not cooperate with besmirching their dignity in any way. If they're doing so to themselves, that's they're choice. The reality I have to keep always before me is in serving them, I serve Christ, even if they're irresponsible, belligerent or manipulative. My job as a follower of Jesus is to give to the poor, including the addicted poor-in-spirit. I am to treat them as I would want to be treated if I were them. I am my brother's keeper and must not pick and choose their pedigree in that regard. But for the grace of God I am them.
In reality, I'm not sure the frustration and helplessness I feel will go away easily or like a vapor, but I've made a willing adjustment to engage and give to my street brethren. Giving to Christ can become my joy if I let it.
We'll see how it goes. If you think of it, pray for my freedom and generosity of spirit with these folks. I always appreciate prayer for me. I chronically need grace both amazing and abundant.
Tuesday night, Jim LaMontagne and I were returning from the Neilson Library on the Smith College campus where we'd just listened to a lecture on Jonathan Edwards by a historian named Ronald Story. He'd written a book called Jonathan Edwards and the Gospel of Love, and we wanted to hear what he had to say given the reality of the impact Edwards had on the American Christian ethos in the mid-18th century. It was no small thing that he was a pastor in Northampton for a number of years as well.
We'd just returned and were chatting in front of the doorway into our building when Raymond came across the street and headed right for us. He started talking in our direction before we realized he had us in his sights. For the next 20 minutes or so, he regaled us with everything from a false bomb scare happening a few minutes ago up the street, to Revolutionary and Civil War history, to asparagus and grass fields on Rte.9 back in the day. We functioned as an audience for him. He peppered his discourse liberally with f-bombs (sometimes like a cascade), and other assorted expletives. Occasionally, he'd ask about us, but our answers just served as launching pads for his next observation.
Raymond is an alcoholic and more than likely has been one for decades. I never see him when he's not lit up.
He has the gift of gab when he's that way, but I wonder what he's like when he's sober. Is he quiet, shy, easy-going, or detached? I have no way of knowing so far.
That's the problem with alcoholics or drug addicts actively using; you can never peer into who they really are. Getting drugs, using drugs and coming down from using drugs take center stage in their lives. They are high or trying to get high. Trying to have an actual conversation with them or get to know them beyond the surface has proven very tough so far. It's frustrating, because it's not of any substance in the sense the person you're interacting with is distorted by the madness of the addiction. You might get glimmers into them, but nothing to hold onto.
The drug effects are always the "third person" in the conversation. Who knows what's real?
I feel sad in a way because I know there is a someone looking back at or talking to me, but I can't get to know him or her. I want to find out who the real person is and hear his story. I want to offer Christ and the love he holds out to them. I want to say, "Let's figure out how you can work to overcome the past, get back on your feet, and show the world what you might be made of." If I can't get there, they remain a kind of burlesquish caricature to me -- by that I mean a distorted parody of who they might be underneath. What a travesty because this same person bears the image of God. I don't like such diminishing of any human being.
Remember, I'm referring to people who've been this way for years. They've lived on the streets, moved in and out of prison, lost jobs, spouses, families and friends; they've hurt those who've loved them, thus eventually consigning themselves to an aimless, disconnected slavery. Many have been to counseling, been in rehab and attended many AA meetings, even worked the 12-Steps. But, using and trying to stop using has become a Sisyphean struggle of sorts for folks at it for decades: 2 steps forward, 3 steps back, and on and on.
After a while, I've found myself avoiding them, feeling it a waste of time to interact to any degree. I'll give them a buck or two occasionally, but that feels foolish, or acquiescing to the addiction thus cooperating with their demise. At the same time, to ignore them is to ignore our common humanity. I turn a blind eye to their suffering. I join all the others who do so without giving it a thought. That's not OK.
Perhaps, as we heard in the Edward's lecture Tuesday night, I must not cooperate with besmirching their dignity in any way. If they're doing so to themselves, that's they're choice. The reality I have to keep always before me is in serving them, I serve Christ, even if they're irresponsible, belligerent or manipulative. My job as a follower of Jesus is to give to the poor, including the addicted poor-in-spirit. I am to treat them as I would want to be treated if I were them. I am my brother's keeper and must not pick and choose their pedigree in that regard. But for the grace of God I am them.
In reality, I'm not sure the frustration and helplessness I feel will go away easily or like a vapor, but I've made a willing adjustment to engage and give to my street brethren. Giving to Christ can become my joy if I let it.
We'll see how it goes. If you think of it, pray for my freedom and generosity of spirit with these folks. I always appreciate prayer for me. I chronically need grace both amazing and abundant.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
imagine/Northampton's Arts Night Out #2: Photographer Joe Don Richardson.
Friday night began Chapter Two of imagine/Northampton journey into becoming a contributing member of the arts community in this small city with Joe Don Richardson's exhibit of color and black and white photographs he calls "Deep Waters." As you might recall, last month, we launched the imagineGallery with Catherine Elliott's evocative, contemporary Impressionist paintings. Joe Don's Opening Reception was similarly well-attended, and we made some connections with folks in town, including artists. A few of them returned Friday, in fact. More about that later.
I've known Joe Don for almost 10 years. I had the privilege of helping him decide to attend The Hallmark Institute of Photography in Turner's Falls, MA. He's always liked taking photos, including being a summer camp photographer for a few years in CT. Prior to going to the Institute, he'd also taken a trip to Europe and taken a bunch of photographs. He made them into a book. While that of an amateur, it also was obvious he had talent. When he chose to go to school to become a professional I was very glad for him. Going was a big step, but he went after it, and worked his talent to another level.
I was proud of all the work he's put in to do our second show, and proud of him. Unless you've done this, make no mistake it isn't easy to do. You put your heart and soul out there in front of friends and strangers. Doing so feels a kind of nakedness not for the faint of heart. I was also thrilled that many folks talked to him about his work, and one showed interest in purchasing a piece. I know Joe Don left on Friday night feeling drained, but buoyed (no pun intended), and encouraged. Our show brought more folks than his first, and they were supportive.
As we did with Catherine's show we had sumptuous food. One young fellow, by all appearances a college student, came in and blurted out with delight: "Oh, this is where the good food is!!!" Indeed. A number of folks remarked about the quality of what we served. The only refreshment we omitted this time was the wine. We had a bit of a problem last time with someone who revealed himself to be too enamored with the grape, shall we say. He returned this Friday and left within five minutes, not even glancing at the photos. Hmmm. Nevertheless, part of our mission is to offer hospitality which captures people and causes them to linger with the art and with us, wine or no wine.
As I've mentioned in earlier blogposts, it's both about supporting art and building relationships with folks in Northampton. Toward that end, it just so happens a man and a couple from last month's show returned . We'd learned each other's names and seemed to hit it off then. Last Friday, there was talk with them of dinner together, and the wife is a weaver who's interested in perhaps exhibiting at imagine. She gave a CD of her work to Tricia. They'll be in touch.
Imagineurian Dave Sweeney invited a client who also lives in the area, She came with a friend, liked Joe Don's work, and then inquired about imagine/Northampton. She's walked by our space on Main Street and wondered about us. She took our materials as did others. The conversation we had opened a little door of awareness and understanding. Maybe Jesus will create a relationship. I hope so.
For us, getting face to face with folks and having an opportunity to perhaps reflect Christ to them is a key focus of our Kingdom mission. We need to keep joining the community discourse whether it's having an Arts Gallery, serving meals to the homeless at the Interfaith Shelter (as on the night before Thanksgiving), launching an Open Table in early 2013, running our second 5K Hot Chocolate Run in support of Safe Passages in December, and staying to help clean up, offering a Family Night in December so parents can go Christmas shopping, or maybe even hosting a Writer's Group next year in our 70 Main Street space. The point is we want folks to discover and follow the God who is far more than they imagine in our community, one person, one couple, one family at a time.
We're on our way. It's taken a while, but there is momentum building, slowly, but surely.
Pray for us and stop by one of these days. Come to dinner in Northampton, and check out Joe Don's work this Friday or Saturday evening, 5-9PM. We'd love to see you.
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