Shabbat

Here recently I have been so overwhelmed with the idea of Sabbath, or in Hebrew, Shabbat. Literally, Shabbat means to rest or to ease. The word Shabbat is mentioned 89 times in scripture, and that does not include all the references to resting or being still. If it is mentioned so many times, then why is it ignored so much. Do we believe that Sabbath is something 'old school' and irrelevant? I think so.

I have been attempting to study the idea of Sabbath for some time now. The true Jewish picture of Sabbath is unbelievably dedicated and committed. The more I study Sabbath, the more I am assured that it is not this be lazy, care free, and get off your feet time, but rather, it emphasizes preparing yourself FOR resting. If you just ignore deadlines, life, work, etc and are lazy - that pressure still exists. However, if you properly prepare yourself to rest you can focus on the very thing that needs your attention the most - your relationship with the Lord.

I have also found that there is no better way to study Sabbath than to participate.

The concept of stopping to rest seems almost ridiculous to me. I cannot fathom it because it seems so impossible. Sunday, for me is a legitimate work day (a 13 hour one yesterday), and most Saturdays are consumed with youth events or something of the like. When am I supposed to rest? In order to properly Sabbath the first thing I have to do is kill the excuses. I do have time, I just have to prepare for it.

This Advent season we as a church family are fasting. We are fasting from something in our lives so that we can focus, celebrate, and prepare for His coming. For some people, that fast may be tv. They watch tv. For some, music. And for others, they may eat too much chocolate...so from chocolate they fast. But me? Well, very simply put - I busy. Busy is a verb for me. So, I am fasting from busy, and doing so by adding a psuedo-sabbath.

My Sabbath time is a baby for now, but will hopefully grow. My time is very split up and every week includes working at the church, ministry, school, and coaching. Therefore, my sabbath possibilities are limited. But, it starts today. Over the next 5 weeks, with dad down with his surgery, I will be sharing the teaching load with Steve and Drew. I need to prepare myself, physically, spiritually, and emotionally for this increase. So, every Monday from 3-7pm I am sabbath-ing. No cell phone. No email/facebook/blog/myspace. No tv. Just me, my Lord, and my thoughts. I will no doubt read, I will study, and heck, sometimes I may even sleep. I will not be a strict adherer to sabbath principles like an orthodox Jew. I will still turn on lights, and "work" - or what would be considered work. But it is going to be some simple 'me' time. I cannot wait. I never thought it would be possible to include this into my schedule, but lo and behold, here it comes!

Wish me luck this Advent season as I attempt to apply this principle of Sabbath. I hope it benefits me and every relationship I participate in. We'll see how it goes!

From Julian to Jesus: (The Long Narrative)

Tired and weary after our long journey to New Orleans, our mission group gathered in this small church (our central hub for the week) awaiting our massive order of pizzas to arrive. Another guy and myself went to get all our pizzas and as we were bringing them in I noticed a man not part of our group. He was a small hispanic man working on laying tile in one corner of the dining area of the church. He was working diligently and minding his own business as he took care of his task. Something prompted me to greet him.

"Hola Senor!"

To which he looked up and greeted me back. My sister, Laura, wanted to invite him over for pizza with us. In doing so she started with the simple question -

"Como se llama?"

"Julian"

And that is when I met Julian.

I never imagined that this one simple meeting would impact my life the way it would. This was the beginning of what would become a very special connection between two souls.

Laura did invite him to eat with us and he did. Laura and Andrea began to talk with him in spanish as best they could. Julian understood very little english, and he spoke even less. Laura and Andrea both had limited training in spanish but could get by and hold a conversation. Then there was me, the ever bullish intruder into conversation with my EXTREMELY limited capacity to understand anything spanish. Basically the only spanish I knew was what could place my order and communicate with the waiter at your basic Mexican restaurant - which if you were wondering was not much. Heck, even the taco bell dog spoke more spanish than I did.

Despite my inability to communicate well in spanish, I was still intrigued by Julian. Through the help of Laura and Andrea's translations and the Lord taking me back to my old spanish lessons, I was able to hear his story.

Julian was a citizen of Honduras. His wife and three children (13,14 and 16) still lived there. His wife was actually an english teacher in Honduras. He was in America for five years on a work visa learning trades so that he could go home and teach alongside his wife in a center devoted to training Honduran children how to learn english and learn trades so that they could live and establish citizenship in America. Julian told us that in Honduras an eight hour work day pays four dollars. The money he made from simply being over here was a blessing that he could send home to his family.

Julian was in year three of his time in America and New Orleans. He safely made it through Katrina and Rita spending his evacuation time in Houston. He was now back in Chalmette, Louisiana working for Covenant United Methodist Church putting his skills to use.

Everyday when we would come in for lunch from working on our site Julian would be working in the church. Then when we would return to the church that evening for our dinner meals, he would still be there. I found myself looking forward to seeing him every time. I am not sure what it was about him that drew me to him, but something did.

As the week continued we talked with him more and more. We began to joke around with him, laugh with him, sing with him, and even pray with him - and he with us. One day, on Jeremy's birthday he led a stirring rendition of "Feliz Cumpleanos".

There was a special joy that he exuded in everything he did. It was attractive and it was contagious and it was peaceful.

On thursday, our last day of work, he told Steve that he was going to be working with us that day. Upon hearing this news, Laura came over to me concerned. She was worried about throwing him into the mix of the family we worked with (which had its own worries and chaos). She also wondered if they would treat a hispanic man in their home with disrespect - something she did not want to subject Julian to. Steve also had a pow-wow with me concerning the logistics of taking him with us. Who was he with? Is he allowed to go with us? What if he gets hurt? These logistics are a part of good leadership but through the whole discussion on whether or not Julian should go with us I just felt a peace. I felt like God had brought him into our lives for a reason, and I trusted that. So...with us he came.

As soon as he got into the Jeep with us we popped his favorite spanish praise and worship cd and rocked out all the way to the job site. He explained in spanish how praise music is like the smell of a flower to God and how happy that it made him. I definitely agreed.

As soon as we arrived at the job site our family greeted us with a boom. One of the girls in the house was awakened by our working and in response proceeded to curse at us and her family. For ten minutes or so we were hit with a barrage of filthy language and cursing. As Chuck put it - "I did not know the F word came like Baskin Robbins - in 31 different flavors." The young lady left the house and then after the dust settled we began to work.

The whole time during the morning disturbance Julian just worked. I envied him. I envied the fact that many of the things she said were foreign to him, and he was able to focus on what he was there to do - simply serve.

As the day went on, and especially as I view my time working alongside Julian in hindsight I realize how special of a day that it was. For six hours Julian and I worked, ate, sat, and rode side by side....and for those six hours we communicated flawlessly. And remember the catch - I can speak very little spanish, and he can speak very little english. We talked about God, about school, about work, about our families, about each other's lives, about our passions, about sports, prayed with each other, and talked about food - and I cannot explain how. In Acts chapter 2 reads a story of when Peter, newly spirit empowered, walks out into the street and begins preaching - and everyone understands him in their own language! This is the closest thing to the Pentecost story that I have ever experienced. The Lord gave us both patience to communicate, and continually brought me an understanding of what Julian was saying to me....and I assume gave him the same understanding of my words to him. It was truly amazing at how God and God alone provided us with the context for communication.

On the way home from work, and knowing that it was our last day in New Orleans, I invited Julian to come eat with us one last time. As 7:30 rolled around that evening I was excited to see my newfound friend roll up on his little red bicycle. He was a few minutes late, and his appearance explained why. I had never seen Julian out of his work clothes - a paint stained pair of light khaki pants and a ripped and stained long sleeved work shirt. But tonight he honored us...even in his dress. He wore a sleek black shirt, pressed dress pants, shined shoes and his hair was slicked back, not in it's usual hat. He dressed to respect us.

We feasted on jambalaya and then had a final meeting as a group. During the meeting we went about our usual business and then spent a time discussing our peace button. On day one in New Orleans we bought a cheap, hippie-inspired peace sign button at a convenience store. We passed this around through our group all week long to people who brought us peace. I took the button at the end of the meeting and was going to present it to Julian. I explained to him as best I could and told him it was an honor to work beside him. I thanked him for his hard work. And I ended by telling him he made my heart happy. (and yes...i attempted all this in spanish). I choked up a bit as usual, gave him the button, and joined our group in applause for him. He had truly been a blessing to us that week.

As I concluded by presentation of the gift to him, I stayed on the verge of tears. I felt like a big baby. I even left the meeting room and waved at my eyes to dry them up. There was something just tugging at my heart that kept me within an instance of weeping. I couldn't explain it. After the meeting I went back into the little sanctuary room where I found Julian. He asked me again about the button, and I explained it was a symbol of peace, and that he deserved it. There was a minute of somewhat awkward silence between us and then it happened.

Then he looked right at me...staring me in the eyes, but looking into my heart and he said these words...IN PERFECT ENGLISH!

"I love you for who you are"

At the sound of hearing this phrase I hit my knees and just wept. He said to me again, this time in spanish, that I was his brother forever and would always be family. He said I was an excellent person and that our conversations all week made him happy and were all for the Lord.

I couldn't stop crying. It was not a sadness, just a speechless expression of joy and awe at how mighty our God is. His words to me may have used his vocal chords, and his lips may have been moving - but I can assure you that it was Jesus speaking to me.

He then wanted my contact info and I wanted his so we began to swap that as well. In looking through his little notebook I flipped page after page full of contact info of people that this quiet and quaint man's life had touched. I was in awe. I could not stop weeping. I went in the bathroom and sat on the floor for a good 10 minutes just crying before the Lord. I felt the Lord take me to Isaiah chapter 6, where Isaiah encounters God and is rendered speechless, a man with lips not worthy to speak. I now understand Isaiah's plight. I have never been more sure of being in God's presence as I was that night.

Julian embodied the characteristics of Christ more than any man I have ever met. When I say I left my heart in New Orleans it's caretaker is a humble and meek man named Julian. The things this man taught me about the Lord cannot be contained in this story...they must be unpacked in one to follow. But I do know this....

I know that for going on 16 years now I have followed Christ. I think I know what that looks like. But on Thursday night, October 18th, I fell in love with Jesus....because I fell in love with the heart of a man named Julian. And this love was enough to change the heart of a guy who many times sees himself going through the motions of what it means to follow Christ - ignoring the heart that God has given me.

Andrea came to me later that night and said that it was good to see my heart come out like it did.

I don't mean this pridefully, but it was good for ME to see MY heart come out. Sometimes I feel like I leave it places and say things that I know will just work, things that are even truth. But to get a chance to see your own heart spill for love of Christ is a motivation that cannot be described.

Although you will probably never read this, Julian, I thank you. I thank you for looking different and foreign. Not because you are from Honduras, but because you are a citizen of heaven. The phrase "Let Heaven fill your thoughts" has never been more evident to me than it is now. Seeing Julian live life proves that when Heaven fills your thoughts, it overflows into your life.

Again, my brother, mi hermano, te amo y mucho gracias!