Grapes part 2

When we last left our hero he had been captured by the nefarious Candy-Cane and suspended over a giant vat of molasses dangling by a slowly unraveling rope....

Wait, wrong show.

When we last left our hero he was headed to Chicago knowing only that he was following the call of God on his life.

Like Moses I entered into obedience unsure of what would come as the result.

Like Moses I saw God at work over and over, assured that my God was greater than the powers of this world.

Like Moses I completed my task.

Like Moses I passed through.
He through the Red Sea, myself across a stage to receive a diploma.

But the story of Moses doesn't end with the crossing of the Red Sea. Nor does my story end with recieving my degree.


The people of God were still to enter into the Promised Land. The book of Numbers recounts a tale where the people sent in spies to scope out the land. Twelve spies were sent. Twelve spies saw the land and its bounty. And as with all good scouting expeditions the spies brought back (stole) some produce to show the people what they found there.

Among the produce were enormous grapes. Scholars can debate exactly how large the grapes were: whether they were truly gigantic, simply relatively enormous and plentiful, or if the grapes grew in size as the tale was told and retold; the real concern is the reaction of the people to the grapes.

Ten of the spies saw odds too great and a God too small to save them. They believed the challenges of the Promised Land to be greater than the promises of God and his ability to bring them to bear.

Two of the spies, Caleb and Joshua saw the grapes and their bounty as proof that God was able to give his people good things. They saw the grapes as evidence of the promise and its near fulfillment.
 
The same grapes elicited two contradictory responses: Fear and Faith.

There are days when I look out at the land and the promise that God has given me and I feel fear. Fear that the problems of this world are too big, that I am too small, or worse yet that like Moses I will not enter in the Promised Land.

There are days when I look out at the land and I am filled with faith. I remember God's love and provision of the past and I am assured that it will continue into the future. I see not only problems, but solutions as well.

Most days I look out and I feel both. I feel fear and faith. Right next to each other, each competing to be louder than the other.

And now like Moses, when I thought the next step was receiving the promise, I find my self in a place of waiting.

At my graduation ceremony there was a prayer given that has stuck with me since. The prayer thanked God for those graduates who (like Moses) were lead by a pillar of clouds by daylight, able to see where God was taking them. They prayer asked for guidance for those graduates who (like Moses and like myself) were led by a pillar of fire at night, unable to see where God was leading, but trusting still that one day they would enter into the promises of God.

Lately, faith has been winning out. Most days the grapes are signs of bounty, signs of power, signs of hope.

And as I continue on this journey, I will follow the pillar of fire until night breaks and the morning's light reveals clearly what is next.

As I continue on this journey I will thank my God for all of you who journey with me.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Like Moses (aka Grapes part 1)

Below is an excerpt from a blog that was published on 5-19-11.

It is republished here as context for next week’s blog.

So when we last left our tale of my "heroes journey" I was back from Africa and reflecting on the lessons of that trip. Last night I found myself doing the same thing. Last night, I was reminded of God's call on my life to serve kids, to serve kids that have no one else.

…

I was accepted into North Park. I was denied the (Presidential) scholarship. So, now I am left holding pieces (of my life story) that don't fit together. Holding chapters with major plot holes. Holding onto fear that I will end up where I was two and half years ago. Praying to let go of fear and hold onto God. Knowing that the pieces do fit, just not in the way, just not in the time that I first thought.

This season is about waiting. This season is about risk.

Moses was called to go to Pharaoh and tell him to let the Hebrews leave Egypt. And what did Moses get for his obedience? Pharaoh mad at him, his countrymen made to work harder, and the Hebrew leaders upset with him for meddling in their affairs. If I was Moses I would be mad. I would be upset. I would be holding onto fear that maybe I imagined that flaming shrubbery, and this wasn't what God had for me.

But Moses went back. And Pharaoh said no. And Moses went back again, and Pharaoh said no. God was doing more than showing Moses about obedience and being used of God. God was dealing with Pharaoh, with the Hebrews, with Egypt, with promises made to Abraham, and with setting the tone for what would be the future of Israel. And in the end Moses and his people walked across dry land, while Pharaoh and his army did the dead man's float (Oh, baby let my people go, yeah, yeah, yeah, I said Oh baby...)

I have some pieces and I don't know how they all fit. I know one is a picture of me as Children's Pastor. I know that one is not me returning here to camp. I know that one is not returning home to live on a couch and nurse my emotional wounds.

I know that I have been accepted into North Park. I know that Chicago sounds like a great city. I know that North Park had programs to work with inner city kids. I know my heart for South Africa may be met, in some small way, by working with them.

I know that the piece with me as a Children's Pastor needs to be one I follow in obedience. I know that a degree can help this become a reality.

God showed me North Park. He never said that it would be free. He never said that it would be easy or comfortable or only take me two years.

Waiting and Risk. But waiting in the One who fulfills His promises. Taking risks with the One who fulfills all his promises.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away

--Jesse "Gonzo" Letourneau

original post

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Have a great Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, Solstice, Binge watch of 1970s stop-motion specials, or whatever else this month means to you!

--Serving Him alongside all of you, Just from further away,
--Jesse Letourneau

P.S. In defense of Baby It's Cold Outside (even the versions without Miss Piggy in them)

The little things: Texas style

They say that in Texas everything is bigger.

Driving the highway each morning to work, I can certainly attest that the flags flying outside nearly every business and office building are larger than what I have experienced elsewhere (With the exception of the flag outside Leisure World in Seal Bach). The city is without a doubt more spread out than Chicago, and the sky feels bigger here. (Of course it depends on where the sky starts.) And I haven't tried the local food, but just from reading the labels in the supermarket, I am pretty sure the cuisine runs hotter here

However, I have found that in Texas like elsewhere, it's not the only the monumental events that leave an impact but the mundane ones as well.

The other night I sat on the couch with my brother, sister-in-law, and brand new niece and thought, "I scarce can take it in." Some of you may recognize that phrase from the old Christian hymn "How Great Thou Art". The song speaks of the power and wonder of Creation and the sacrifice of Christ. In response to these things the author wrote that line.

Yet my response wasn't to some large wonderful earth shattering, mind blowing event. It was to the simple fact that I sat indoors, with a full belly, next my family.

While I am grateful for the space that my brother and his family have provided, it is not the space but the presence of family that I find rest in.

While I am grateful for the meals my sister-in-law makes, it is not the nourishment but the gathering together to enjoy each other that reminds me of my worth.

While I enjoy the movies we watch each evening (some more than others), it is not the flickering images upon the television screen that bring peace, but the simple reminder that yet another day has past with shelter, food, and acceptance as a part of it.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
 --Jesse Letourneau

One More Time

Did I do enough? Did I see enough?

I never got out to Second City or the Science Museum! Is the car packed? Will I get to see everyone before I leave? I don’t have a picture of Wrigley Field! I didn’t pet a police horse! Is the car packed? Is there something on Foster I need to experience for the last time? Will I get to see everyone? Do they have board games and pick-up basketball in Texas? Is the car packed?

Did I do enough?

These thoughts ran on a loop through my brain as I approached my last week in Chicago. I was so concerned with “leaving well” I had forgotten to actually leave well. Thanks to some solid advice I was able to shift my thinking from worrying about the bucket list I had made for myself four years ago, and instead contemplate what I wanted to do with the week I had left. It was then I realized that what I wanted wasn’t brand new experiences unique to Chicago or to construct the "perfect" finish to my time.

What I needed to do was answer the question “If I have a week left in Chicago, what do I want to do with it?” The answer was to enjoy each fleeting moment. 

Rather than worry about manufacturing some “too good for a movie” ending to my time in the Windy City, I decided to enjoy “One More” time with the people and places that had made the last four years of my growth so special, so unique, and so cherished.

I stopped being obsessed with the past and what I had or hadn’t done.

I stopped being obsessed with the future and what I did or didn’t need to do.

I became content with the present. I sat and enjoyed “one more time” with the people and places that shaped my life these last four years. 

To all those who were a part of that week,

and to all those that were a part of these last four years,

so long and thanks for all the fish...

and here’s to the hope that we may meet again

One More Time

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away

--Jesse Letourneau

video here

Lean Forward

Lean forward. Let your momentum carry you off the platform. And trust the zip line.

With these words I was able to encourage the students at Alliance Redwoods to ride our zip line; to encounter risks as well as rewards. Watching kids trust the zip line, watching them learn to trust themselves was the most encouraging, most fulfilling piece of my work as an Outdoor Educator. Hearing their screams of panic and regret turn to shouts of joy and delight was my absolute favorite part of the job.

Of course not every student was encouraged to take the “leap” off the platform by those words. Others needed to know the science and math of our cables and trolleys before they could muster the courage to leave the platform.

Most of our students however were unimpressed by the physics of their body in relationship to the pull of the trolley or the numbers that showed the reliability of our cables. Most students needed more encouragement to justify the risk of leaving a platform perched sixty feet in the air.

When this happened I knelt down next to them and said, “Bravery is not about being unafraid. It is about doing something even when you are afraid.” Most times these words provided the courage the students needed to experience the zip line.

When this happened I often heard the voice of the Lord asking me, “And what about you? Are you willing to be brave and trust me?”

My answer to the questioning of my God was, “I am at work. Can we talk later?”

But God is persistent.

After three years at Alliance it was clear that the next step God had for me was seminary.

However, there wasn’t much else that was clear. I simply knew that I needed to “Lean forward and trust God.” I did learn that I had been accepted into North Park.  I learned that there was a family in Chicago that I knew and who were willing to meet me at the airport, take me in for a night, and feed me.

After four years in Chicago I graduated from North Park Theological Seminary. I found places in Chicago where I could be completely myself. I found people who accepted me as I am.  What I didn’t find was a job. 

And so now I once again find myself in a place where there isn’t much that is clear. I am back in a place where I need to “Lean forward and trust God.”

As it turns out I know a family in Texas who is willing to take me in and feed me. My brother and his wife recently bought a house outside Houston and have graciously allowed me to move in with them.

On Novemeber 1st, I loaded my car with all of my earthly possessions and drove from Chicago to Texas. My desire is still to work for a church in the ECC and I am pursuing that goal. But until that becomes a reality I will be in Houston pursuing what God has for me in this time.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
 --Jesse Letourneau

Back in the day:
Addie wasn't one who needed help leaving the platform

Pixar is Following Me

While watching Inside Out last night, I was reminded that

Pixar is following me.

Get out of my head!

In 2009, I moved to the Bay Area of California and learned about risk.

I learned that playing it safe wasn’t always the best option, and that adventure wasn’t to be feared.  I began to learn that life often doesn’t happen as we had planned, but there is still much pleasure in this world if we simply open our eyes to what is in front of us.

In 2009, Pixar released UP, whose tagline is "Adventure is Out There”, and whose themes include unexpected change in life plans and finding joy in what is still around us.

In 2010, I was preparing for my transition from my life in California to my soon to be new life in Illinois. It was time to prepare for the unknown by putting away the old things and embracing new opportunities.

In 2010, Pixar released Toy Story 3, about a boy going off to college and the journey that he (and his sentient toys) take as they prepare to face the unknown by putting away the things of the past.

In 2015, I served as a chaplain at a retirement home. I was faced with the reality of loss and of death on a nearly daily basis. Through this experience I was forced to explore the emotions I had yet to encounter surrounding the death of my father, when I was twelve. The short version is that I learned that all emotions have value and none should be suppressed or avoided.

In 2015, Pixar released Inside Out, a brightly colored children’s film that argues for the value and inclusion of all emotions in a balanced and heathy person.

What is truly bizarre is that in 2012, I took a trip to Scotland with my mother and she turned into a bear for three days.

 --Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Odds and ends

Three thoughts on this the day before I receive my Master's degree

Identity (yes, identity again)

Identity hasn't simply been the theme of this past semester (see last entry), it has been the theme of my entire time here at North Park. Four years ago my very first class of my Master's program was New Testament I, taught by Klyne Snodgrass. Anyone who has taken this course knows that the central theme of the course is identity. The class asks who we are, who Christ is, and who we are in light of who Christ is.

My very short answer to the last question is that I am a pastor. As such, I am called to bring Jesus to others, to extend to them the grace that has been extended to me.

Last Monday, my very last class of my Master's program was a worship service. During the service Communion was served. Each student received the elements, and then in turn gave the elements to another student.

My time at North Park began by asking the question of who I am. My time at North Park ended by answering that question with serving the bread and extending to another the grace that had been extended to me.

Holding On
Doesn't it feel good to be done?
This question has been asked of me several times in the last week.

The simple answer is yes. Yes it feels good to be done. It feels good to have all the papers and tests and books and academic requirements of this season put to rest.

The less simple answer is no. It is scary to know that it is time to move from the place where I have lived and worked over the last four years. It is scary to know that it is time to leave behind the people with whom I have laughed and cried over the last four years. It is scary to know that it is time to move beyond what I know.

In the comic book Fables (which I cannot recomend enough) there is a character called the Magic Mirror (yep, that Magic Mirror). The Mirror was once human, but has been trapped for uncounted millennia. In the comic there is an event called the Unbinding. The short version is that what was magically bound together has now come apart. The mirror himself almost came free of his glass prison.

Fables #87

He goes onto explain that at the last minute he found himself holding to place he had come to know. So now he remains in the mirror. Like the Mirror, I find myself wishing to hold onto the place I know.

I am so grateful that the Great Unbinding known as Graduation is upon me. I am so grateful for all who stood by me. I am grateful for the moments filled with laughter and those filled with tears. I am grateful for the preparation I have received. I am grateful for having been given the perspective and tools to better extend to others the grace extended to me.

Am I happy to be done? Yes.

And no.

And Yet...

Shelves

This morning as I set my Bible on the coffee table, I looked up at my bookshelf. My bookshelf contains my DVDs and comic books (mostly Fables). They are the stories I can go to after a long day.

They are the stories that help me escape. My shelf is filled with the things make me feel safe. Soon they will be packed away and possibly stored away for some time as I look for what is next for me.

This thought made me sad. I grieve the fact that my comfort and security will radically change in the coming months. However, as I thought about packing, moving, changing, I was reminded that as much as it is a comfort to have my things around me, I would rather have God beside me.
 
--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Identity

This is my last semester of seminary. During my second semester I posted the following blog: click here This May I graduate with an MDiv. As a part of my requirements for graduation I have been doing an internship at a retirement home for the past seven months. That is all in the way of background and context.

This morning I sat with one of the residents. This woman, whom we will call Olive, is so very frail. She is always bundled in blankets and never without her beanie pulled nearly all the way down over eyes. She is half deaf and three quarters blind. She struggles with memory. What she doesn't struggle with his her faith. She asked me what I did. I told her I was in school to be a pastor.

"Catholic?" Olive asks filled with anticipation.
"No, Protestant," I reply.
"You study the Catholic faith. You will find it is the best." Olive's whole face, her whole body breaks out in a smile.

Olive sits in her wheelchair, I sit on a bench facing her. She takes my hand and pulls me in closer. "For every question you have, the Catholic faith has an answer. And if they don't, you don't need one." Olive is completely present in this moment.

She may not remember my name or what she can see of my face. She may not remember that in the short time we have spent together she has asked about lunch every ten minutes. She may not remember these things, but she knows her God.

I am pulled into a place of wonder. I wonder how a faith becomes so strong. I wonder if mine will ever be this strong. I wonder how I am considered worthy to be called into this sacred space.

Olive reaches down as she holds my hand. She feels the group of strings tied around my wrist. Unable to clearly see what they are, she asks, “Identity?”

Olive is referencing the ID bracelets that each resident wears. In reality they are part of a Thai ceremony. (Same teacher, different class.) Olive is more right than she knows. I simply answer, “Yes.”

Our conversation moves to the difficulties of age and problems with young people today. Then it is time to go in for lunch.

I am left with what it means that these strings are symbols of my identity.

I still struggle with my worth. I know that I am a beloved child of God, but I don’t always remember that.

Like Olive, I also have moments where the only thing on my mind is the question of when lunch is. Like Olive, I have moments of clarity. Moments where I know fully who I am and whose I am.
 
--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Imperfect.

It began on Valentine’s Day. I was playing board games with two of the best people I know. I thought, “I have always wanted to take a photo a day for a year, who says it has to start on Jan 1.” So, I snapped a picture, and made a commitment to take one a day for the next year.

I have not taken a picture a day since that day. However, what I have done is taken a picture a day-imperfectly. Normally, when I start something that doesn’t work like I wanted it to, I just stop. There might be excuses and rationalizations, there may be second chances and renewed attempts, but the old “failed” attempt is put away.

This time I tried something new. I missed a day and kept going. I have missed several days. But the project continues. I don’t know what the final count of pictures will be, but no longer is the goal 365 pictures. The goal is to look around my world, to look into my life and find the things that give me courage. To find and record those things which keep me from wanting to pack it up and go home.

My life is imperfect. My photo album is imperfect. But both are filled with extraordinary things.  

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away

--Jesse Letourneau

2-14-15

Full album