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

Bull Moose

As many of you know, this last year and a half I have served as the intern for the Children's Ministry at a small Presbyterian Church here in Chicago.  It has been a humbling and uplifting experience.  I was able to both teach and learn during my time there.

My last Sunday was June 30.  Each week, the children are dismissed from the service right before the sermon to their time of worship.  I wasn’t teaching, however I had planned to assist in the classroom in order to spend time with the children on my last Sunday with the church..


The plan was to have this week be a relaxed "party" to celebrate the start of the school year.  As I headed from the sanctuary to the classroom, I was told by the CM Director that I had to wait before I went upstairs.

The start of the school year party had now become a "Jesse's last day party".  While I waited downstairs the kids decorated the room complete with my own special chair (a folding chair covered in crate paper), my own special lapel-pin (more crate paper) and a "red carpet" (red crate paper taped to the floor).  The brightly colored paper was accompanied by balloons and snacks.  We simply hung out and played a few games.

I received cards and pictures from the children (and parents) as well as a t-shirt signed by all the children.  But the best gift was a set of three ornaments: a bull moose, a calf moose, and a dead moose.

For those of you reading who have not worked in a camp environment allow me to explain.  No, there is too much, let me sum up.  There is a camp song about a Moose.  Actually, there are several camp songs about Moose.  This one involves a dead moose.

Okay this isn't helping.  Check out the song here  (If anyone has a clip of the song being sung at Alliance, that would be awesome)  So now that we all know the song, lets get back to the story.

On my very first day as an intern at CCP I was asked to create a “gathering time” to encourage kids (and parents) to arrive on time.  It didn’t work.  The experiment ended roughly two months in.  However I was able to bond with the three children who did attend.

One of the activities I tried was to introduce camp songs, specifically "Bull Moose".  I quickly learned why camp songs are camp songs.  It has something to do with sending children home with the tunes stuck in their heads.  For the next year and a half, each time I saw any of these three children who had learned the song, they asked me to sing it for them.  Each time I refused to sing the song again. (Claiming it was a special song for special occasions.)

It was the family of these children that gave me the ornaments.  Softened by the gift, I relented and sung the song one last time.  I lead the children in “Bull Moose” and as we finished, we were told that service was over, and it was time to dismiss the kids.

The first thing I did at CCP was sing “Bull Moose.  The last thing I did at CCP was sing that song.  I couldn’t have written a better capstone to my time of service.

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

Tune in next time for "My week with JR" or "up past 1am all week"

Conclusion of sorts (aka cacophony of thoughts part 2/edge of epiphany part 2)

When we last left our hero he had graduated from college and moved to the big city.

Okay, I didn't really move to that big of a city. But I did have a kind of "if I can make it here I can make it anywhere" attitude. The original plan was to work as a classroom teacher for a couple of years while getting my credential and then be able to work anywhere in the US as an elementary teacher.

Eight years later...

I was still working as a substitute and barely able to make ends meet. Clearly, I wasn't cut out to be a classroom teacher. I was however made to be a Children's Pastor. This fact was evident to all but me.

But before we get there I wanna back up to my first few years at Grace.
Grace was a home for me. It was more than just a place to serve, it was more than just a place to go that wasn't my apartment or the occasional sub job. It is a place where I found family and security.

I remember one Easter where I joked that I had to leave my "adopted family" (the Derby/Harsh clan) to go to my real family for their Easter meal. Before I could leave Meredith insisted that she take pictures with me and her two girls. In some very real ways, I was adopted into that family. Greg served as a surrogate father and the girls were like my little sisters.

Times change, schedules change, rhythms change, and eventually the Harshs weren't as strong a part of my life as they had been. Somewhere along the way I bonded with the McMullens. I can't even begin to describe what that family has been to me.

Between this transition there came the failed experiment of my going to UC Irvine to get a teaching credential. There were some good times, there were some hard times, some lessons learned the easy way, and some lessons learned the hard way. Ultimately, it wasn't what God had for me. Some of the failure came at my own procrastination, some came through challenges that were beyond my control.

Ultimately, I didn't pass my classes at Irvine because I didn't do all the work. Instead I spent, my time serving in the Children's Ministry at Grace.

I still remember when, after that lunch with Scott Peterson and the bus ride from the airport a few weeks later, that it finally clicked, and I knew what I was suppose to do. I was so excited to tell family and friends of my revelation. I was met with a lot of, "We already knew that." and "It's about time you figured it out." (all said in the most loving way possible.)

When I told my mom her response was, "Of course you are suppose to be in a church and not a classroom. Why didn't you pass the classes at Irvine?"

I was always a Children's Pastor, I just didn't know it.

During these years there were those who knew my story (again mostly those who worked closely with me in ministry). But it wasn't my identity anymore.

At least not to the outside world. Inside though-as I look back, I certainly didn't see it at the time-their was that sliver of need. need to be a kid. need to be a dad. need to be loved.

need to know the stories were real.

More than that, what was inside of me during these years was the belief that I wasn't good enough. There was no way I could be called into ministry, because I am no example, no model, I am too broken to fix others.

Then came John Coe. Or at least tapes of John Coe listen to and discussed in an intimate Bible Study made up of two couples (one of which were the Young Adult Pastor and his wife) and myself. Tapes of John Coe describing the dark night of the soul and what that means. Tapes of John Coe listened to and discussed in a group that had dinner parties around getting me to fill out applications and start to move forward. Tapes listened to and discussed with a group that made me cookie monster cakes and went to see Les Mis at the Hollywood Bowl.

A group that cared. Not about my mission, my calling, and certainly not about my failures. But cared about me.

Then God called me to camp.

The first part of this blog centered around the death of my father and how that impacted my identity. It started as very external thing, and slowly moved inward. By this point (circa 2008) it was moved in so deeply that even I hardly notice it.

At camp even fewer knew about my dad. Funny thing was though, they accepted me none the less. They didn't pitty me or need to support me cause I was broken, they just accepted me. Same thing happened at the church I went to. In fact during my time at ARCG/RCC I can only think of two times I told the story of my dad from start to finish (and one of those was in South Africa.)

Then I got involved in the Children's Ministry at RCC, which lead me to North Park.

Something was said to me last semester that is one of the most encouraging things and one of the most frightening things that has ever been said to me. It is encouraging because it shows the strength and healing God has already done in my life. It is frightening because it shows that my course, my path, my story was not inevitable. I had always assumed that my life with all its ups and downs just naturally led me to the place I am now.

We were sharing in small group setting about how we address God in our prayers. The group knew my story from previous conversations. I began with the statement, "I usually begin my prayers with 'Father God' which isn't really a surprise given my story." One of the response to me was, "I don't think that the way you address God is a given, given your story. I think there are several other ways you could understand God through all of that."

It was another reminder that I have been called out. Set aside, made special, made especially for the work of telling children THE story.

So here I sit. On the edge of epiphany. Here I sit ready to go back and expose the wounds, so that they may be cleaned and healed. I am not completely sure when and how this will all happen. But I am trusting God to equip the one he has called.

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

A Year Ago Today ( "Fear the Lord")

A year ago...

I worked in a redwood forest.
I had my faith shaken in the ministry I was working for.
I found out that Howard's doesn't serve dinner.
I was asked my favorite question that I have ever been asked.

today...
I live, work, and attend seminary in Chicago.
I played "21" instead of a full game, because only two other people showed up for ball this morning.
I left early because we finished early...
..I met a man who need $6 for his child's medicine (I only had a $20 so that is what I gave him). I don't know what his need truly was, but it doesn't matter.
I sit in the office at CCP (The Church where I serve as Children's Ministry Intern).

I wonder today, what I wondered a year ago.
When will it end? When will the truth be exposed and I be found out to be a fraud?

I wonder if I have the strength to change.
I wonder how different I really am. I wonder if I am different, but not for the better.

Fear Not, the angel said to Joshua.
Fear Not, the angel said to Mary.
Fear Not, the angel said to the Shepherds.

But they were those who God had picked to lead, to bear, to witness what He was about to do, because of who they were, because of their faithfulness.

Feat Not, the angel said to Gideon.

Fear Not, the holy messenger said to the man hiding in a wine press. Fear Not, though the number of men who will fight with you is cut in half, and then cut in half again, and then cut again. Fear Not though you come at the problem with flashlights and Tupperware.

Fear Not though the only thing you have to trust in is God Almighty. Fear Not.

Lord,
I have nothing to give. Except my surrender. And yet I hold on. And yet I fear.

Today I remember when I thought I had it all. Today I want. Instead of you, I want my control back.

You stand before me and you say "Fear Not.' You remind me that the battle is not mine and never was.

I have seen you work in my life time and time again.
Yet like the nation who cried to you for deliverance,
the nation who gave you honor until they had been given comfort,
the nation who asked for kings that they could see;

I balk, I forget, I fret, I sin, I shutter at the light, I fear.

Yet while the light exposes the filth that fills my life, the light also purifies the stain.

You never leave us where you find us.
You always have an answer.
The answer is always the blood of your son.
The answer is always your perfect love.


Your perfect love...



...that drives out fear.

Journal Entry from 8/11/11

Unpacking and Packing
Several years ago I went on a mission trip to England. As our time came to a close our leader Tom spoke to us about unpacking. He noted that when we returned home we be unpacking not just our clothes and souvenirs, but our memories and lessons learned as well. Tom said that some lessons would be unpacked as soon as we got home, while others could take days and months, and some even years.

Since that trip, I have tried to look at what I am learning and how past experiences, even those years and decades past form and inform the present.

The present is a tricky thing for me. I like to look down the road. I like to know what is next. I like to plan. I want to have control.

I have sat at kitchen tables, gym floors, and airports surrendering my control to God. Each time a baby step, a microcosm of my movement toward God.

As I write, memories and lessons of this year crash and swirl together. Trying to make sense of my past, praying to present and enjoy my time here and now, some days dreading the future-yet learning to obey-and learning to not doubt my God who has my future.

I was recently found a note in my mailbox that reminded me that, "Life is not like a movie. God writes our endings." In the same note my friend mentioned that there was pain in this year for me. There definitely was pain, but as time moves on and the present becomes the past the pain grows smaller and it becomes harder to see. Lessons began to form and take its place. I have begun to unpack some of these lessons.

I am not only unpacking memories and lessons as I look back; I am trying to pack up-to store up-memories and lessons to take with me to Chicago. I am also trying to physically pack up my clothes and souvenirs to take with me to Chicago. That has not gone as planned. There is still much to do before I leave for Long Beach, and even more before I leave for Chicago. However, I am also trying to pack up some memories in my last few days to take with me. So clothes are left on shelves, but opportunities are not wasted.

DCB with PC

Wednesday night Phillip and I went to go see the David Crowder Band at the Sonoma County Fair. I didn’t know I was going to that 7:30pm show until 3:30pm that day. Merv and the Spring Hill Community Church worship band opened for DCB that night. Merv gave two of his comped tickets to me and Phillip.

The seats were in section DD. Both Phillip and I assumed that we would be rocking the nose bleed section of the outdoor venue that night. We met some other friends at the fair who had purchased their tickets online. As we walked in through the general admission gate, we were pulled aside and told that we had come in the wrong way. Our entrance was on the other side. We were escorted to the correct gate and given a new hand stamp. The seats were basically a mosh pit with chairs, and we were ten rows back from the stage. We had taken the lowly seats and been given places of honor.

This picture as silly as it may seem, reminded me of how my God is in the business of raising people up. How God desires for us to be used in ways we could never dream possible.

There were several people I knew already there. Seeing friends from work and RCC, singing and praising our heavenly Father, reminded me of the undreamed blessing I have already received from God. That night assured me that God can and will use me in Chicago.

The night reminded me that while Abraham walked (however imperfectly) in faith, he did so after God had given him a promise. Moses went to Pharaoh after receiving a promise from God. Joshua took command of the Israelites after receiving a promise from God. All of these men had limited views of how God was going to work. Their faith was in the promise of God. The promise that while they didn’t know how, they knew that he would indeed work.

I certainly do not know how God is going to work in me in Chicago but I know he will. I know this because I too have been given a promise. I have been promised that I am to work with kids. To teach them about Christ’s unfailing love for them. To teach them the promises of God.

DCB left the stage to chants of “Of one more song!” They returned and played an encore of “Here I am to worship.”

As I raised my voice, my hand, and my heart to God, that song summed up that night and this last month. As I sang I was reminded of the countless times I had proclaimed that He was my God. As I looked up at the moon filled sky, as I heard friends and strangers praising, I knew that my God was all together worthy, all together lovely- and that He has been all together wonderful to me.

I was reminded of the countless times I had sung this song before. I recalled the tables, floors and airports where I had called out to God. As the melody looped back around and the words, “Here I am to worship” came from my lips, I knew that it was not a declaration of location, but of motivation.

I have loved my time here in Northern California. However, I am no longer here to worship. My place is now in Chicago.

Under the night sky I once again surrendered my control to God. As I thought on the past and savored the present, I knew that God has undreamed blessings upon my future.

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

train of thought

So random tidbits,

My car battery died yesterday, hopefully that is all it is and not the alternator (getting that checked out today).

I am in Occidental for a length of time that will require only one more haircut.

Obedience is hard, but it is easier than faith.

Ping pong balls only go missing on my days off.

From the outside it is possible to see what could be, but it is not easy from the outside to see what is.

I have learned more than I thought was possible this year.

There are days I feel like I have forgotten more than was possible.

I don't think I will have closure to my time here at Alliance, because what I have learned was only the prologue for what God has for me in Chicago.

I NEVER thought I would pursue being a pastor.

I never thought I would move somewhere without a job lined up.

I don't know what state I will be in, but I know where I will be Thanksgiving weekend (at a theatre watching The Muppets).

All the plans I once held dear

I now count as loss

Hoping/Needing/Always Needing to be taken back to the cross.

I never in a million years thought that from where I was I could end up here.

I have no idea how what I thought I wanted and needed didn't come to pass, and have no idea how much better God's plan for me is.

I need to find an excuse to drive the Gator one more time.

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

Traveling to Egypt

Abraham is often cited (and rightly so) for being a man of extraordinary faith. God told him to go, and he did. God didn't say where exactly, or how long it would take, just to go. Hebrews tells us that faith is the evidence of things not seen the assurance of things hoped for.

When I was a child I assumed this verse spoke of belief in Christ, trusting in God, and having my ticket punched for my train ride to heaven. To be sure faith in an unseen God is crucial. It is the starting point, but I am learning faith is much more than that.

Abraham wasn't given a clear destination. I have been given one. Here is the thing, I haven't been told the how. I hate not knowing the how. I hate not having control, I hate the unknown. I struggle with faith.

It is funny that I have used the word destination, as if Chicago/North Park was the end of the road. As if once I get into school, once I get a ministry of my own, then I am done growing. Then God will use me, but surely He won't stretch me any further. As if then I will have finally arrived.

When Abraham was told to go, he went. And then he hit trouble. Famine hit the land and Abe decided he needed to eat. There was food in Egypt, and so logically he went there. The problem was that Egypt was off the course. Egypt was Abe's answer to the problem not God's. Now once in Egypt, Abraham made a few other costly mistakes (that ironically enough came about due to lack of faith). I think lack of faith comes when we think we have a better answer than what God has.

The astute among you will know that I have written about destination and journeys on this blog before. You will note that I have written about being in a place of peace in allowing the journey to take precedent over just reaching the destiny. Those of you who know me well, will know that this didn't come easy, and that I am likely to have to repeat my lessons.

I had this picture of me living in a small place eating, but not eating well, getting by, and going to school. I saw this picture of the first act of a cliched small town boy moves to big city kind of story. And I was okay with that, until this job opportunity came along. Then I didn't want to suffer, I wanted the easy road, and that is the path I pursued.

I didn't get the Children's Minister position in Chicago. Which means not only was I taking pieces of the puzzle that were not yet mine and trying to fit them into the picture I wanted to make, it also means I still don't know how I am going pay for things like food and shelter. I know God can provide, my heart is just having trouble finding the faith that He will. Cause I want the control, I want to know how things are going to work.


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

The Last Four Months Part 1 and 2

So, it has been four months since I have put pen to paper. Well, it has been four months since I have blogged in a major way. So much has happened in the last four months I doubt it will all be put down here. So much has happened in the last three days, I don't yet know what it all means.

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.

On February 14, I had a discussion about our lives in Christ and how they are like a puzzle. However, we aren't always given a view of all the pieces at one time. Sometimes where you think a certain piece fits into the story isn't where it belongs at all. Sometimes you have pieces, yet you have no clue how they fit into the masterpiece God is weaving, and you just have to wait. This season was about waiting.

Sometimes you have a piece that you know fits, but you don't know where. You don't have the compliment to the piece. Sometimes you don't know how things are going to work out and you have to trust that the piece you have will connect to the rest in due time. Sometimes you have to follow the what even when you don't know the how. Sometimes you have to risk. The season was about risk.

On February 18, I went on a date with a co worker from camp. That date lead to a relationship. That relationship led to several pieces being handed to me. However, I assumed I knew where they went. I assumed that what I wanted, that the picture I would paint matched perfectly with what God had for me.

Just over eight weeks later we broke up. The pieces, the growth, the lessons, the truths, the time, the memories, the experiences, the treasure of each moment with her were all still there. Only now they looked different. They fit together differently. How they played into the picture was completely different.

I had taken risks and the end result was God letting me know that it was time once again to wait. Time to continue to be single. Time to rely on Him for who I am, rely on Him and nothing more, rely on no one else for how I see myself. Time again to wait.

In the middle of all this I was given yet another piece to my story. I was encouraged to apply to North Park Seminary in Chicago.

I am assured that I am a Children's Pastor. I simply do not yet have a church at which I serve full time. Going to North Park seemed to be the answer. Seemed to be the next step, the next piece, the next chapter. However, I have no money (well some, but compared to the cost of moving/living/and paying for school I have none).

When God calls, God provides. So I applied. I applied for the full tuition Presidential Scholarship.

I was accepted into North Park. I was denied the scholarship. So, now I am left holding pieces 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

The story of my first date with Emily (for those of you who care):
I entered the Spring Semester here at ARCG, with the thought that I would do my job, look for churches to serve in full time Children's ministry, and then move on. That and nothing more.

I told God that I was happy to put aside the pursuit of finding someone to date of finding "that right one", and focus on my task here at camp. Focus on pursuing full time ministry. I have been single for the vast majority of my adult life. I have been on a handfull of dates, but never "dated" anyone. I have had countless friends tell me that God would bring me the right person as soon as I stopped looking.

I can't tell you how much I hated that advice. How do you turn off the part of you that knows "it is not good for man to be alone?" How do you stop wanting community at the most intimate level? How? To be honest, I could make a big deal about how I did just that. How I trusted God and his timing. How I finally stopped looking and rested in where I was. But, here is the problem. I never actually did that.

I stopped looking, because there was nothing left to seek. I looked around at my life at camp and my life at church and there was no one there who was a compliment to who I was. There were plenty of godly women around, but none were the right one for me.

So, I told God that I could wait. What other choice did I have?

This January I met a new coworker named Emily. She grew up in a Covenant Church (which just happens to be the denomination of the church I am attending). However, I always hesitate to offer rides to church because I am there for both services and I don't want anyone to have to wait around for me. Emily doesn't mind, in fact enjoys spending time alone. I started giving her a ride to and from church on Sundays. Our friendship grew out of these times together.

Roughly a month into the Spring Semester (and yes, Daria they are semesters), my roommate and I were discussing a retreat we went on last fall, and how there was a girl there from another camp who liked me. Which of course I was completely oblivious to. Only half joking, I asked him why he didn't tell me. He asked, if I wanted him to tell me when he saw these things. I told him I did.

"Pursue Emily" was the response.

The next couple of weeks I thought and prayed about my feelings for Emily, and what I should do. All the while paying attention to her, and noticing her smiling at me when she thought I wasn't looking, and laughing at my jokes that weren't funny.

It was during this time that Scott Peterson recomened I started looking at North Park Seminary. On the ride home I was sharing with Emily about the news. Our conversation allowed me to process what I thought about the idea. While, I was intially nervous about the change (I still am), I was also beginning to see how well North Park fit what God has for me.

Emily remarked, "I am really excited for you." That was the moment I knew I needed to invest in this girl. I knew that we liked each other, and that we were compatible, but I hadn't done anything out of the friend range at this point. The way she said it, though conveyed that she cared about me and my following God. She didn't try and scheme to keep me around. I knew that she had my best interests at heart (and her definition of my best interests, is me following God, which is an incredible thing).

So it took me another week to fall for her completely, and to decide, that even though I was possibly leaving camp soon, that a relationship with her was worth the risk.

We went to dinner on a Friday. We tried two places, but both were closed, so while driving in circles in the dark, and playing with my GPS, and making cracks about the Holy Spirit (guiding us) and being the Holy Spirit for each other (she was choosing the third place), and kinda flirting, we arrived at a little burger joint. It is owned by a Greek family and we got complimentary falafel!

We sat and talked, and told our stories (Okay, we all know I talked more than she did). We talked about God calling us to camp and danced around the issue in front of us.

On the drive home the following conversation took place:
Emily, "Can I ask an awkward question?"
Jesse, "Please do."
Emily, "Is this a date?"
Jesse, "I kinda hoped it was, and would be disappointed if it wasn't."
Emily, "I would be disappointed too."

Then I blabbed about how much I liked her (and may have scared her a little). We came home and hung out a little.

I walked her to her house and made a comment about awkward moments. She said how about a high five? I gave her a high five, and a side hug. Then went home.

The little things

So if you believe in coincidence then you will chalk up my story to nothing more than that.

If you know my God, then you will no doubt see his fingerprints on this story.

Change, Journey, Destination, Risk, Growth, Manhood, Servanthood, even Puzzles. These words have defined my road the last two years here at Alliance. Some of them stretching even farther back than that. This semester has been wrapped up in the word Identity. I have much more to write on that when the time comes.

The very condensed back story to this entry is that my identity has been shaken and stripped. Who I thought God was making me to be I no longer trusted in. I felt alone and I felt helpless. I had no control. And instead of giving control back to God (or rather admitting He had it all along) I tried to find it in other ways and by other means.

All the while my prayer was that I could give God control. But I knew I didn't really want to. Not just yet. I wanted to wallow just a little longer.

One thing I thought I knew was God’s calling for me to attend North Park Seminary in Chicago. There is another story for another day, but the short version is God asked me to become a Children's Pastor (see previous entries) and showed me my next turn was to attend North Park in Chicago.

I was happy to apply to the school, apply for the scholarships, and then wait. However, when my life turned upside down, when what I was holding onto for my identity was radically shaken, I stopped trusting and became anxious. I checked my mailbox every day (sometimes multiple times a day, as if the mailman was going to circle back and deliver a letter he had placed on the dashboard of his little white truck) for news from North Park. I needed assurance that I still knew where God was taking me. Even if only in the physical sense. I knew what I truly needed was to meet with God. To focus not on my needs but on His Word.

Here is something that a prospective seminary student maybe shouldn't admit. I have lost my Bible.

I work at a Christian camp and am literally surrounded by Bibles. But like a little whinny baby, I wanted MY Bible. Only MY Bible could do. I didn't really believe this lie, I just wanted to put off hearing from God. I was afraid of what He would say. I was afraid He would ask me to trust Him even if seminary rejected me and I had no plans for the fall.

This weekend I was sick. Legitimately sick. Symptoms, fever, aches, the whole nine yards. But I used this as an excuse to just wallow in self doubt and self pity and second guessing. I used the excuse that I was tired and wouldn't get anything out of reading the Bible.

This morning I had the day off, and felt much better. I got a couple of chores done, and even went outside. But still I felt bad, and wanted to feel that way. I knew how to change my attitude, I simply chose not to.

After dinner this evening I checked my mail (for like the third time today). And there wasn't an letter that the postman had forgotten. Instead there was a Bible bought at a second hand store. A Bible bought for me by a friend knowing I had lost mine.

So, having a Bible of my own, I sat down and read. Nothing fancy. Nothing life changing or new. Just a Psalm and the first few chapters of Proverbs. Then there was a Psalm I wanted to read, but couldn't remember exactly where it was, so I went to the computer to look it up.

Of course I had to check my email first. In my inbox was a note from North Park Seminary, saying that the scholarship meeting has been moved back, and that decisions are coming soon. Knowing that they have my paperwork. Knowing that there will be an answer has taken so much weight off my shoulders. I can put that piece of the puzzle back in God's hand.

Like I said, it seems so much like a simple coincidence. But I know the timing of everything was in His hands, and my simple act of yielding was answered by a simple act of assurance that the plan is still in motion, still trust worthy, still the one I am to be on right now.

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

--Jesse "Gonzo" Letourneau

housekeeping

Hey all,

Reading back through my blog I realized I hadn't yet given part three of my Arriving at Destination "series." The short version is that friends from home came up for the weekend, and we spent it laughing, sharing, eating (tons of great food, and they kept insisting on paying), going on ziplines in the rain, and the canopy tour on the sunniest day of the weekend.

I was blessed by their presence, and so very blessed by being able to be in place to give back (working at camp allowed me to have their weekend to be quite cheap). Again to serve from a place of strength. It was doubly honoring to serve from a place of strength to one of the many groups of people who served me when I was still in my place of (for lack of a better term) weakness.

I know the journey through my time in Africa is incomplete and long overdue. I have summarized the trip into two more blog posts, I just need to get them from my head to the screen. They will come "shortly."

A new season of Outdoor Ed has begun here at ARCG. Loving the new team, looking forward to getting to interact with the kids.

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

--Jesse "Gonzo" Letourneau

Ariving at Destination part two

The weekend of October 15-17 I was lucky enough to go to a conference for Christian Camping. I took a ton away from that time. A renewed focus on student lead teaching. A realization that I belong to a larger community of Christian camping. The reminder of the beauty of God's creation. The reminder of the beauty of relationships. And a confirmation that I work with wonderful, open and honest, and God-fearing people.

Oh, I also ended up on a free guided tour of Yosemite!

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

--Jesse "Gonzo" Letourneau

(as always click on pics to make em bigger)

Arriving at Destination part one

I have long thought it would be cool if there was a GPS for life.

"Turn Left Ahead." Take this Job." "Avoid crazy girl approaching" and of course "Arriving at Destination." ah, Destination, the journey's end. I have always been more about the where than the why. Maybe it's because I can get car sick even if I am driving. Maybe it's because getting there takes work, and I would rather avoid work. Maybe getting there takes pain, and I assume I have had enough of that for one lifetime. Maybe it's because the journey is about growth, and growth implies that one is getting stronger and better. And maybe for too long I saw myself as unworthy of being better.

Whatever the case, I am slowly learning to look around me and enjoy the view, enjoy the journey, and even enjoy the pain and growth, and maybe even to accept the fact of my worth. The thing that makes any destination, any journey, and really any thing worth the effort is the people you are traveling with.

God has underscored my journey, my growth, and my worth three times in the last five weeks. Each time He did so at a camp. Each time he used the people who have stood along side me.

September 24-26 was a crazy weekend for me. Here at Alliance, we hosted a Men's Advance (cause guys retreat enough on their own). A thousand little moments that weekend, some good, some bad, some big, some minuscule, some echoing faith that can move mountains, some that I am smart enough not to commit to writing, all led to the Saturday night sermon.

The cliff notes version is that men in this country are absent. Fathers in this country are absent. Boys do not have a ceremony, a time, a rite, where someone sits them down and tells them what it means to be a man. Where someone sits them down ans tells them that they are a man. At the end of the service, an invitation was sent for those who felt the need to mark the truth of being a man, and even more than that being a man of God was extended. The other men in the room came forward and prayed over us.

I am a 33 year old guy (no longer a boy, but never embracing my manhood), who was raised from the age of 12 by a single mother. The idea of having someone speak those words to me (and don't get me wrong, my mom is awesome, and there have been a thousand father figures in my life, I have learned from the church what being a man is) as a novel concept isn't horribly shocking.

What is shocking, what is appalling, is that to my left and my right, and filling three rows behind me sat men who had never had this done for them. Men in their 30s as well. And men in their 40s, and 50s, and 60s. How the hell does the church allow someone to become a grandfather, yet the idea of marking their time from boyhood to manhood is a new one to them? How has the Church, how have we as men, failed the body, how have we failed each other? Let's hit pause for a second, because I want to come back to this, but first I need to explain what was happening in me that night.

That night I was healed. That night all of the zip-lines, and sea cave kayaking, and ski lessons, and movie nights, and simple words of encouragement, all my time at ARCG, all my time in CM at Grace, all my time at Simpson, all the encouragement of friends and family over my 33 years, finally made sense, complete and total sense. I saw fully (or at least more fully, cause grace isn't a concept I will fully unpack in this lifetime) the person others had seen in me. I was commissioned by man that night, but my spirit was spoken to by God.

He told me that I was a man, and that I no longer needed to serve as broken and lonely, but that He had made me into a man of God, a man with gifts, talents, and passions that would be able to reach out to the men, the guys, and the boys I so desperately want to tell of the wonders of grace. I now no longer serve being able to only put my arm around those I serve, and share in their pain. I now can help them up to where I am. I can pull them up, because God has made me whole, and I stand above, not better than, but healed.

That day my son, I became a man.

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

--Jesse "Gonzo" Letourneau