We're currently at Jolie's folk's home in Mesquite. J, C and me are doing great. MEGA-SUPER-MUCHAS GRACIAS to Mitchy the Kid and Digsby for being much more than traveling companions. Hope you are home resting in the goodness of God tonight.

Speaking of traveling companions, I watched Return of the King for the 2nd time this afternoon. The main characters are continually wondering where their friends are and how they are faring. I am very grateful that I can go to a computer terminal and find out almost immediately how many of my dearest friends are doing. How great that we got this blogdom thing going when we did!

Felt very warm and refuged catching up on everybody's blogs tonight. Hope to contribute again soon (lots to report, as usual...)

I have been energized in recent months by exploring the early Celtic Christian tradition. It's really old, but Patrick and his successors were too far "out on the fringes" (like Paul) to be influenced by Rome and the establishment of the time.

Apparently St. Brendan the Navigator (486-575 A.D.) made frequent adventurous voyages to launch new works in and around Ireland throughout his life. He represents the "call to risky living" in the Celtic heritage. As my final exerpt in South Carolina, I would like to quote from the last Stanza of a liturgy used as a prayer for a spiritual journey in Brendan's honor:

Lord, I will trust You,
help me to journey beyond the familiar
and into the unknown.

Give me the faith to leave the old ways
and break fresh ground with You.

Christ of the mysteries, can I trust You
to be stronger than each storm in me?

Do I still yearn for Your glory to lighten on me?

I will show others the care You've given me.

I determine amidst all uncertainty
always to trust.

I choose to live beyond regret,
and let You recreate my life.

I believe You will make a way for me
and provide for me,
if only I trust You
and obey.

I will trust in the darkness and know
that my times are still in Your hand.

I will believe You for my future,
chapter by chapter, until all the story is written.

Focus my mind and my heart upon You,
my attention always on You without alteration.

Strengthen me with Your blessing
and appoint to me the task.

Teach me to live with eternity in view.

Tune my spirit to the music of heaven.

Feed me,
and, somehow,
make my obedience count for You.

Jolie and Connor should be safe and sound in Texas by now. I'll be embarking on the road trip early tomorrow morning. So I suppose these are my last bloggings from the Palmetto State...

First a few quick "shout outs":
- to the McNeals for giving us much-needed support and nurture during these final weeks.
- to the Toburens for offering us their house to live in for 2 1/2 days during Christmas. Connor loved it and we were able to feel refreshed here.
- to Pastor Don for a very meaningful phone call early this afternoon.
- to the Peters for having me over for Christmas dinner (the "J" cookies rock!)
- to 'da boys for whatever we're gonna do tonight (got to get a good night's sleep, though!)

Last night Jolie and I turned on the Toburen's beautiful and large Christmas tree and enjoyed a quiet conversation. There were no gifts exchanged. We created a meal out of the final bits of our freezer meat, carrots and apples. We discussed trying to raise Connor to appreciate Jesus over and above Santa and consumerism (any suggestions, parents out there?). Realizing that it was originally Jesus alone that received gifts, we want to explore the idea of giving gifts to others as a literal giving to Jesus Himself. This could be expressed by the "least of these," or seeing family, friends or church community as the body of Christ. It also hopefully will help determine the type of gifts we choose, as well, the kind that would please Jesus to receive. Anyway, the point is that we really enjoyed the simplicity and lack of fanfare in the midst of our present nomadic circumstances.

Later on, Jolie finally forced me to watch the last hour or so of It's a Wonderful Life. I must admit that I have grown calloused to this film over the years. I didn't what to spoil our evening this way. But when the final scene developed, I realized there was far more in it for us than usual this year. George, of course, is suicidal about going to jail because he's short about $8,000. But the whole town flocks to his house to pitch in and bail him out, because he has touched many of their lives over the years. Clarence (the angel for the movie-illiterate) leaves his copy of Tom Sawyer with a quote inside, "Dear George, Remember no man is a failure who has friends. Thanks for the wings! Love Clarence."

THAT'S why Jolie and I had such a great Christmas in spite of everything being so caddywhompus in our lives right now! THAT'S why we feel richer than ever this year! It's because so many people have poured out their love on us. We have been so blessed. Now I want to run through the streets of Bedford Falls screaming "Merry Christmas Cinema! Merry Christmas wonderful ole Building and Loan!"

If the kid stays asleep for a few more minutes, I'll be able to wax nostalgic about the last couple of weeks...

Gateway BC had its official Commissioning Service for my family and the Harrells on December 10th. To begin the service, I had the honor of baptizing a handful of really special people that have been part of the Student Ministry [Aaryn, Faith, Harvin, Brandon and Hap]. This was my last act as "pastor" before being appointed as a "missionary." The Harrells are being sent to Mozambique with the IMB, so it was a particular honor to share the time with them. One of the most profound moments for me happened while listening to Bryan's father (himself a retired missionary from South Africa) addressing his son with 15 bullet points of advice. The one that stood out was "You can't love people if you don't love their culture." He told Bryan to seek out the best parts of the culture and to celebrate them regularly. I pretended he was talking to me as well. Actually, I knew the Spirit was encouraging me. The emerging culture that God is sending me into has significant points of divergence from the more entrenched modern culture. In fact, perhaps the saddest description of the "modern church" is that it has DEMONIZED American culture, rather than loving it! Lots of "experts" make a very good living writing books, preaching and speaking about how evil lurks behind every aspect of the culture. "It's filthy!," they shout, "and we must not allow our children to become contaminated!" It becomes increasingly difficult to love people genuinely with such us-versus-them paradigms.
The designated time of prayer at the end of the service was also richly treasured. The students never seem to tire of offering bold intercessions for Jolie, Connor and me...

On Thursday, December 11th, we had the annual Student Ministry Adult Workers Christmas Party at the McNeals. After the ornament exchange there has typically been a moment to reflect on the "state" of the ministry and to encourage each other. This year, though, I told this amazing bunch that they were our family this year for Christmas. What followed was a very tearful array of heartfelt "thank you's" and an unexpected round of prayers. In many, many ways THIS was our true commissioning service. These people have genuinely been our church over the past 6 years. We left that night - after lingering with the McNeals until the late hours - equally sorrowful and emboldened from the Spirit's "send off."

On Wednesday, December 17th the available co-workers at Gateway assembled for another impromptu commissioning moment. We snuck away into a quiet room where I was again surprised by the character and vulnerability these men were willing to offer. This small gang has been finding times to meet, struggle together and pray for several months now. It's quite beautiful how strong the bonds have become between us. Once more, I felt that a specific expression of church was sending us forth with strength and courage.

Later that afternoon I was able to share another commissioning of sorts in a profound and completely indirect manner. It's interesting to me how these indirect moments have a way of touching the soul directly. Part of the mystery thing, I suppose. Just like maduro haze and vanilla coke. Go figure.

Thanks, Connor, for giving Daddy this moment. Sleep in heavenly peace, little guy.

The irony is that the most eventful days - the ones that I want to share with the blogdom - are the very ones that afford me no time for reflection and accessibility. What I mean is that I have a TON of catching up to do once this whole going and coming thing finalizes.

Right now I am sitting at Rick Toburen's computer (I hope he doesn't mind?). Jolie, Connor and I are staying here until they fly away and I begin the road journey to Lone Star Land. Today an admirable gang of friends assembled at our house to load up the 28' trailer. The trailer arrived at 10:00, the masses arrived simultaneously at 10:30 and...
the whole thing was done ('cept for garage randomnesses) by 12:15! Can I get a sturdy round of hand clap praise offerings for this crew? Mike, Dave, David, Tim, Ted, Brandon S., Brandon P., Mark, Eric and especially Marie for making the squid giggle in the background. And visits from Jamee, JD and Ashley. Truly inspiring what a group can do when it is unified in purpose. (Sounds strangely familiar...).

Did I mention that we sold our car, piano and swing set all in a period of 2 hours yesterday? Yep, another hand clap praise is in order.

Tomorrow may be Christmas Eve to you and yours, but it's Cleanin' Day for us Willises. Another glimpse of unforced and spontaneous community? Bet on it.

Thanks to Tim, Ashley, Jennifer, Marie and Debbie for helping us pack today. In just a few moments the computer will be in a box and taken out to the garage. Hopefully I'll have access to other computers soon enough. The only thing heavier than this piano is my heart. Peace out.

Like Adam and Eve, I am given the task of caring for Earth-Creation and for family.
Like Abraham, I am instructed to stake my tent in a land I know not.
Like the Covenant People of the Torah, I am "set apart" to demonstate the nature of YHWH to all the peoples of the earth.
Like David, I am stirred to sing a new song of praise unto the Almighty Lord.
Like Isaiah, I am to proclaim good news and freedom to the oppressed and imprisoned.
Like Daniel, I am moved to be unmoved by any counterfeit gods.
Like Jonah, I am captured by an assignment that does not wait for my approval.
Like Mary and Joseph, I am expected to bear up a son of incarnation.
Like the Twelve, I am called to follow the way of the Master.
Like the Seventy, I am sent into the city with all authority in heaven and earth.
Like Peter, I am to feed Jesus' sheep.
Like Paul and Barnabas, I am commissioned through prayer and the laying on of hands from my dear church family.
Like Priscilla, I am resolved to use my home and my possessions for the sake of the ecclesia.
Like St. Patrick, I am cajoled to return to the home land I tried to escape.
Like the Celtic monks, I am compelled to establish community among the commerce.
Like Martin Luther, I am blazing forward during a cusp in history.
Like Mother Teresa, I am commanded to see Jesus in the eyes of the unlovely.
Like my grandparents, I am available to be used wherever I find myself.
Like my parents, I am bound to the story of God as revealed in the fullness of Christ.

I am a missionary.

There once was a land, unspoiled and beautiful, that came under the lordship of an evil tyrant. All the people of the land were under the curse of his rule. Though a remnant of people lived nobly and maintained the rituals and traditions of the old days of freedom, most people became more and more corrupt and bloodthirsty. The land was completely controlled by fear and the threat of the dictator.

But there was yet another King whose kingdom included all the lands of the earth, including the cursed realm. This King promised to redeem the captive people from under the tyrant's rule. His very words penetrated the hearts of the people, birthing comfort and hope to all who heard and believed. And so the captive people looked beyond the barbed wire borders, watching and waiting for a sign that the King was coming to deliver them.

At first strange messengers would appear occasionally and alert the people that the King was approaching. They would scream and tear out their beards and plead with the people to prepare themselves for His comiing. But the King never came. Eventually, they hardened themselves to the messenger's cries. Some were even mocked and threatened. Then no more messengers came. And no King.

After so much time had elapsed, the people stopped believing the King's promise. Things seemed hopeless. Fear and doubt grew, until there was nothing but darkness throughout the land. Only the smallest handful continued to wait in hope.

When the time was ripe, the King snuck His own son into the cursed land. Vulnerable and alone, no one noticed the significance of the child. And so the child grew to be a man in this strange and lifeless country. And quite suddenly he went public. His first dealings with the tyrant were right in the evil lord's home. The dictator slyly tried to sway the King's son to join forces. But the Son stood his ground, and the tyrant left him until he could plan something more sinister.

After the Son had made quite a news splash for several years, the evil one was ready. He captured the Son with alarmingly little resistance, and had Him put to death. The tyrant's press secretary proudly announced victory on CNN and Al Jazera. The body was paraded throughout the city to prove that He was dead. The land grew darker than ever.

Several days later something strange happened. A bright and blinding light began to dispel the darkness. Before people knew what was happening, the tyrant had vanished. The people didn't know what to do. Some proclaimed that the Son had come back to life and had defeated the great dictator. But many refused to believe. They feared that they would be punished when the evil lord showed himself again. They continued to act as if the lord were in power.

Years passed. There was continual tension between those who lived in hope and light and those who lived in fear and darkness. Nothing was ever settled. Until the day the King's Son returned with the evil tyrant in his clutches. The people could hardly believe what they saw. This once powerful lord looked pitiful and harmless. He had, it seemed, been hiding in a hole for years, trying to avoid the intelligence of the Son's army. All the people realized their fears had been in vain, that the tyrant had lost power when the Son had indeed risen from the dead. And so the Son threw the evil lord into prison, along with those who had been sympathetic to him and those who had refused to believe the Light. And the crowds (even the liberal news media) cheered and celebrated.

The End.

Reluctantly, I agreed to watch the 2-hour finale of Average Joe Monday night with my wife. After all, she has endured countless action movies, Simpsons reruns and sporting events with minimal complaining. Still, I feel the need to offer some form of pennance, something to "redeem" the time spent watching this non-event. Here goes:

It strikes me that this predictable and disappointing "reality drama" offers a glimpse into a perceived image of the Son of God Himself. In many deliberate ways, Jesus was average. The prophet Isaiah reveals that the future King wouldn't exactly be eye candy. The gospels give us nary a hint of any special physical features. Orthodoxy views Jesus as the complete embodiment of His message and ministry. Jesus, then, would be meek and poor of spirit - the antithesis of one who attempts to project a sexy image, to draw attention to one's self. In fact, when He DID inevitably receive attention for His radical teaching and actions, He refracted all the attention to His Father alone.

This averageness never has and never will impress the world of the comfortable, the glamorous and the rich. It may be easier for a camel to get through that needle's eye than for an attractive person to enter the Kingdom of God (but remember, nothing's impossible with God!). Jesus' averageness is part of what Paul refers to as foolishness and a stumbling block to the world.

So everyone watching this show was rooting for the average Joe, but nobody was surprised when she chose the good-looking model instead. Like I said, too predictable. His image was just too irresistable in the end. Average people have an image problem.

What should the church do about it's Savior's image problem, then? This is where the metaphor gets sad. Many modern expressions of church have tried to give Jesus an extreme makeover, attempting to recast Him in a more appealing image. He's pro-America. He loves to give us money and comfort, just as long as we "claim it." He's a pop star, a real American idol. Style is so much easier than substance.

The thing I really liked about the average Joe was that he always remained true to himself. He knew who he was and he acted within his own limits. His attitude was "every day I'm still here there's a hope that she'll choose me." The church could learn from this example.

When Melana finally gave average Joe the boot, her words were particularly revealing: "You always made me feel so beautiful." THAT'S what our average Jesus does for His Bride, the Church. No such words for the pretty boy.

Thirty-one flavors, hospitality.
Every guest, even husband and son,
Treated in decadent reality;
Leaving no miniscule detail undone.
Thirty-one birthdays of embodied grace.
Presence a present to open a room;
Expressions of sunshine take flight from thy face;
Healing the boredeom of nebulous gloom.
Thirty-one chapters, Proverbial book.
Woman of action and commerce and care;
Never expected, this gourmet of cooks;
Jewels this precious, the rarest of rare.
Thirty-one days to re-cycle the moon.
Thirty-one lifetimes with thee come to soon.

Familiar words sometimes sneak up on me and surprise me with delight. I get a kick out of discovering philological connections that should have been obvious but strangely lurk beneath consciousness. Like the connection between the words advent and adventure. How can words with precisely the same original meaning have taken such opposing connotations? One seems so passive and dull, while the other is the epitome of action and excitement. Oddly enough, my current life-experience seems to be a wonderful union, signaling the truer meaning of both words.

I am definitely waiting, hoping for an Arrival of sorts.

I have been lighting an Advent candle for nearly three weeks now, in the Celtic tradition of a 40-day period of anticipation of the birth of the Messiah. I find myself sucked into God's Story, deeply emphathizing with those pious and faith-filled Hebrews who yearned for God's Word to speak into the darkness once again. They free me to acknowledge the longings in my own soul without fear or shame. I wait for our house to sell. I wait for the details of our move to unfold. I wait for signs of hope that all will be well for my family when we get to Texas. I wait for greater visionary clarity. I long to pour myself out like a drink-offering at Gateway, knowing that everything I had to give was spilled out. I yearn with tears to inherit the Kingdom of God within, and to become the fragrant aroma of Christ among the quick and the dead in Austin. Oh, and I am not yet the husband and father my spirit cries out to be! And the deepest part of me screams with a desire to live a holy and righteous life - whatever that means... All my multi-faceted hopes merge and center on nothing less than the Living God, the Christ of Bethlehem, the Christ of Calvary, the Christ of Glory!

Yet even as I wait I realize that I, too, am on the Way. I am living an adventure (it's not my fault that sounds so trite), expecting to arrive at a specific destination. Yes, Austin. Yes, a brand new effort to Incarnate Christ. Yes, a closer proximity to family and roots. But to an even greater extent, all those mentioned inner longings and a thousand more.

For the past 5-6 weeks, Jolie and I have been reading The Return of the King to each other. I never realized how slow it is to read adult novels out loud. Something inside us wanted to short-circuit the process and "get it over with." The fast-food-eating, movie-watching, cable modem-connecting, instant gratification-demanding world had so conditioned us. But tonight, as we finished the final chapter, all that patient consistency paid off. Tolkien's adventure was far sweeter and more rewarding because we waited our way through.