Pastor Judy's Blog

Hands Free

Last week I left North Park’s campus rather late one evening. I don’t remember exactly what it was that kept me at the office but I do remember feeling a bit exhausted as I walked across the parking lot to my car. After I situated myself in the front seat I picked up my phone to call my husband to find out if he had any thoughts about dinner. We’ve both been traveling a lot lately and he mentioned that the pickings in the fridge were slim. I tried to think creatively about the ingredients he listed off and I began to realize that ordering pizza was a better option than spaghetti squash covered with BBQ sauce. I must admit that for a brief moment I wished for a traditional pastor’s wife who would have had dinner on the table. The image quickly vanished as I reminded myself that my denomination does not allow people to have a husband and a wife and that I am in love my husband even if he can’t cook.

While still talking on the phone trying to resolve what dining establishment was going to get our business that evening, I pulled out of the parking lot and turned north on Kimball Avenue. Now I know that Chicago is a hands-free cell phone city but, I justified my hands-on approach by telling myself I was only going a few blocks. I approached the four-way stop and dutifully stopped and then began to pull forward into the intersection never having looked to my left or my right, both because I was tired and because I was on the phone. As a result I failed to see a man crossing the street with his dog.

Now before you bring up a tragic picture of a flattened dog and a weeping owner let me say that I stopped in the middle of the intersection, that I didn’t need to slam on my breaks and that the man and his dog were not in front of my car when I came to a stop...they were only just about to be in front of my car. All that being said, I was still wrong and this man let me know it. He began screaming at my window, hands in the air and anger on his face, “Get off your bleeping phone.” (edited for content)

This was not a passing scowl but rather an invitation to a fight and everything in me was saying, “Do you want to step outside?” Isn’t it interesting how even when we’re rightfully called out for our mistakes we still want to defend ourselves? Instead I lowered my head in submission, told my husband to order whatever food he thought best, put down the phone and held up both my hands in an act of apology. The man walked on but I could tell that he was no less angry and that our relationship was nowhere near restored.

I began driving towards home when I had this strong nudge to go around the block and find this man and his dog. My defensiveness was gone and as is always the case, when I take a deep breath and quit being defensive about what I’ve done wrong I am able to clearly see my faults and on good days seek reconciliation. I had to search a few blocks but I found the man and pulled over a bit ahead of him, put my car in park, got out of the car and extended my hand to him. “Sir I’m so sorry I scared you.” He was a bit taken aback and didn’t really know who I was, so I had to own my own mistake again. “I shouldn’t have been on the phone and I know I scared you. I’m sorry I made a mistake.”

“You found me.” he said. “Yes, I felt so bad that I scared you and I wanted to say I’m sorry I made a mistake.” He was almost stunned into silence but then he said, “I’ve made that mistake too.” I nodded and simply said, “We all make mistakes.” He chatted briefly about the restoration of his faith in humanity and all I could think was that if that’s all it takes to restore our faith in humanity maybe the solutions we’re seeking don’t need to be so revolutionary. A simple drive around the block, a willingness to own our mistakes and someone willing to let us off the hook because they recognize they have made mistakes as well...revolutionary.

The War against the Weeds

I spent the past two summers eradicating weeds. Not just any weeds, these are weeds called Phragmites that are nearly intractable. It is an invasive species that has been brought into the great lakes on the bottom of boats and seems to have found a place it likes to live where it finds little competition and a climate that is suitable to its desire to take over all marshland. Phragmites are prolific because they reproduce themselves in two ways, both by horizontal runners that put down roots at regular intervals and through the dissemination of seeds that are carried on the wind to the next suitable place to invade. The result of no competition, a suitable climate and a commitment to procreation has left much of the shoreline of Green Bay clogged with acres of these weeds.

The Department of Natural Resources (DNR) noticed the invasion quite some time ago, but because the Phragmites grew up in marshlands and wetlands that were protected for the sake of other species they chose a “wait and see” approach. The result has been catastrophic to those same natural species as the Phragmites have choked out all other grasses and weeds, have become so thick many nesting species can no longer make their way into the protected marsh and have created a habitat for another invasive species called zebra mussels. Two years ago the DNR lifted some of its restrictions on cutting down or pulling up the Phragmites and so the past two summers I have made it my business to try to eradicate some of them.

The task has been overwhelming. Phragmites have a root system that creates an extensive web right below the surface of the lake bottom. You cannot pull them out one at a time because they cling together and hold onto one another in such a way that pulling these weeds is simply not an option. Because pulling was not an option two summers ago, I tried cutting down the Phragmites but they grow about a foot a week and I must admit I was more than a bit discouraged by then end of the summer. Just like grass when you cut it, it takes cutting as a cue to grow back stronger. Down the shoreline the DNR tried to burn the Phragmites, not surprisingly just like after a forest fire what grew back grew back healthier due to all of the nutrients that had been quickly decomposed into the earth by the burning.

I must admit that coming into this past summer I was not excited about the prospect of this continued battle. There were not enough of us working against the weeds. Many people along the shoreline never new it had looked any different and so they didn’t feel the urgency and most of those who felt the urgency didn’t have the time to work against the weeds. And so to date, there are only small stretches of the shoreline that are Phragmite free and these small stretches are bordered by fields of Phragmites whose horizontal runners are ready to put down roots and whose seeds are waiting for a good wind.

As I worked on the weeds these past two summers I often found myself wondering what the invasives are in my own life. What are the nonnative species that have taken root and gone uncontested? Are there habitats that were meant for growth that now choke out other species? What will happen if I take a “wait and see” approach? What will happen if we all take a “wait and see” approach? Now before you begin pulling weeds let me add one caution. As humans we have a tendency to notice the crabgrass on someone else’s lawn while failing to see Phragmites on our own landscape (Luke 6:41-43). So let me encourage you to look close to home before you begin looking at your neighbors lawn. And then ask yourself some questions, what’s your shoreline look like this morning? Have you grown used to the weeds or are you weary of them? Which ones will you set out to eradicate and are there others that will join you in this war against the weeds?

Community

I have loved the word “community” and I never thought I would get tired of the concept. It’s a word that encapsulates so much of what I believe about the best kind of life and living. The concept has pushed me across boundaries into other people’s lives and has prompted me to reach out and invite people into mine. I’ve thrown the word around in sermons and I’ve encouraged members of congregations to embrace the community that surrounds them. But I now find myself tired of the word.

Perhaps it’s because my current congregation, which is made up almost entirely of 18-22 year old students so often use the word to declare what is not rather than what is. “I just want to be a part of a real community.” or “I wish people wanted to create real community.” When I ask them what they are looking for they detail a beautiful picture. Community is a group of people who care about each other, who are present in each other’s lives, who share resources with one another and who always give one another the benefit of the doubt. It is a beautiful picture that I wish were real.

So many people long for this kind of community and yet so few people seem to find it. And so recently I’ve been using a significant amount of my brain space contemplating why real community is so elusive. My first big revelation occurred around a conversation concerning a student who had come declaring that a group of fellow leaders had not invited her to be a part of their community. She felt left out, ostracized and uninvited. During the conversation there were several hypothesis about why the exclusion had occurred. Perhaps she was intimidating or they were jealous of her. Perhaps it was because of her race or her gender. Perhaps they disagreed with her point of view or her politics. Toward the end of the conversation a simple question was posed to her. “Do you know the names of the people in your leadership group?” She could name only two of the thirteen.

I felt like I was on to something. In the following week I began to dig deeper into my students’ view of community and although the scenarios were all very different the core of the comments were the same. Somewhere along the way it appears that community became something to consume rather than something to create, something that was offered to rather than something to be invested in. It began to be clear that there is an idea that communities exist for the sake of the individual seeking them and therefore communities have become just one more thing to consume. Community was a gift for the one who needed to be cared for, to acquire resources, and to be heard. Community was an entity where an individual could be known and loved, oddly it was not often considered that the sustaining of the community would require that you would know and love others as well.

Somewhere along the way the idea that community requires commitment over time and outside comfort zones has gotten buried under the idea that there are communities that magically appear or are magically sustained. I’m tired of the word community because it is so often thrown around without being attached to the word commitment. The creation of community requires work and no one truly experiences it without a commitment to be the community they want to experience. To be known we must know. To be included we must include. To be heard we must hear. To be protected we must protect. To be supported we must support. To find a friend we must be one.