Transitions

Top Left July 16, 2017; Top Right Jan. 24, 2018
Bottom Right Feb. 27, 2017:; Bottom Left: May 15, 2017

During my second year of seminary in Chicago, I took a (nearly) weekly picture of the view from my front door. At the end of the year I turned these photos into a time lapsed video. It is still one of my favorite projects I have ever done.

Video

I tried to repeat the idea during my last semester of seminary. This time the bridge over a tiny tributary of the Chicago River was the subject.

Video

I don't think it turned out as well as the first one, but it was an exercise that kept me present during that semester of transition. Even as I rewatch the video today, I am reminded of that bridge, the housing it led to and the campus it lead away from. Memories across my four years at North Park flood my mind. That small space in Chicago is filled with laughter and tears, joy, doubt, fear, certainty, rejection, acceptance, and so much more.

In times of change, I believe it is important to look ahead, to plan ahead, to ready oneself for what is next. Like the titular ant of the Aesop Fable, it is good in the summer to plan for the winter.

In times of change, I believe it is important to stay grounded and present. To leave the worry of tomorrow for tomorrow and participate in the joy of today. Like the titular Grasshopper, it is important to run, sing, and dance while the sun still shines.

In January of 2017, I began a brand new adventure in Copperopolis, CA (Yes it is a real city, and no it is not home to "Copper Man"). I also began taking pictures for a new video. Those of you who follow me on Facebook may remember all the pictures I kept posting of that "same" sandwich.

The goal was to make a video where the tree in the background exhibited the changing seasons. I arrived in Copper after the leaves had fallen, and my journey took me away from that tree (and those sandwiches) just as the foliage of new life had begun to appear. I decided not to cut that video together.

In July of 2017, I began a new adventure in Long Beach, CA. Those of you who follow me on Facebook may have noticed I have been posting the "same" picture of the steeple of my new church. Peeking into the frame of those photos is a tree who I hoped would tell the story of the passage of time through the colors adorning its branches.

As I watched the branches of that tree transitioned from green, to pink, to bare, to green again, I thought this video project just might work out. Then the city, for completely legitimate safety reasons, removed that tree. And while my project stopped there. I have continued to take (nearly) weekly pictures of the steeple, because this church and my role in it are important to me.

These reflections of where I have been and where I am, serve as personal reminders that we can borrow from the past, but never repeat it. We can notice the patterns of what has come before, but they serve only as clues, not certainties of what lies ahead.

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

Two Years Ago

The fact that when we view things from a new location  it causes us to see things differently fascinates me. The relocation caused by time is one of the most poignant ways this occurs (at least in my own life).

Time creates such a new perspective.
Sometimes nostalgia clouds reality.
Other times the distance of time gives one the space to see things clearly.

And then there is the work of reinterpretation. Last time I wrote about how one particular day was understood differently once time had added new experiences into the equation. A day that started in sharp pain and ended in faint hope has become a day of clear hope and distant pain. This shift of perspective was sparked by the "On This Day" feature of Facebook.

Once again, Facebook has brought me memories whose meanings have been refracted through the funhouse mirror lens of time. Two years ago I lived in Chicago. It was less than two weeks from graduation. I had zero idea of what the future held.

I did not know where my journey would take me after walking across the stage to receive my diploma. I was doing my best to remain present. To take in all the things that I would encounter in those last weeks in Chicago. I began to post on Facebook a list of the things that I would miss the most.

On April 27th, 2015 my Facebook status read, "I'm gonna miss doing something two years in a row and calling it a tradition. #ThingsIllMiss #NPTS #13days" The initial meaning of that sentiment dealt with where I ate Thanksgiving Dinner or attending Great America's Fright Fest. It referenced who I spent time with after church on Easter Sunday, and most importantly what film was viewed later that day.

The idea was that my journey through seminary was limited from the very start. I entered into that season knowing that it was going to end and it was going to end soon. There would be only four Thanksgivings that would be celebrated in that community. Only four Easter Sundays. The tradition of attending Fright Fest didn't begin until my second year at North Park. It only happened three times.

I turn 40 this September. Being born in the fall, I have already celebrated forty Thanksgiving meals and forty Easter celebrations. How could a mere ten percent of those ever truly be called traditions? But that was the fun of labeling any repeated annual activity a tradition. Knowing that time was limited and calling anything a tradition was a way to mark that our time was fleeting. It was a way to lament that this community would not last. And it was a way to celebrate the fact that while we were still together we could find celebrations and rhythms to call our own.

Yesterday, I attended a meeting of volunteer parents to plan a Fun Day at the local elementary school. Bounce Houses, Photo Booths, and Organized Games were all discussed. We spent several minutes discussing what worked in the past and what we should replace. We discussed the idea that the kids might be bored with the craft that has been done the last two years. The counter to that was that because we have already done it two years in a row the kids might be expecting it (i.e. it had become a tradition).

At North Park the idea of two annual events marking a full blown tradition was encased by the idea that these rituals would not last. The concept itself was marked by irony.

Now the idea of two annual events marking a full blown tradition is encased in expectations and marked by the reality of this new community.

As I read Facebook this morning, I was struck by the fact that two years ago I viewed time and tradition as fleeting. I didn't know what would happen next. I couldn't even really imagine a time and place grounded and enduring.  And now?

Now, I have entered a season where time and tradition are the bedrock of my community. They are the foundations of the ministry I find myself a part of.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau
(The preceding blog was written on 4/27/17, and published on 5/8/17)

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

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

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

My healing...

“One may be cured and healed, or cured and not healed. It is also possible that one may not experience a cure to their disease, but be healed in the midst of it. … Cure is temporary, since all die; but healing is forever (Health Human Life, Bruckner pp. 212-213).” These two sentences encapsulate my personal journey of healing this semester.

I wrote during the first blog of this semester that I had not yet experienced my healing moment. At the time I understood healing in light of cure rather than in light of the wholeness is discussed throughout Bruckner's book. I expected my struggle to go away, to be taken care of, to be cured. However, at least for now, I join Paul in stating that “my thorn” has yet to be removed. I stand “un-cured.”

Yet, my healing moment has begun. I am learning that healing (wholeness) in the presence of, even in spite of malady and imperfection is possible. I have found wholeness even without “perfection”. (Perfection being the idea that a whole, complete and optimally functioning physical body is necessary to be “healthy”.) I found peace with my God (e.g. right relationship). I am trusting his healing work in my life.

As noted above my “thorn” remains. There are days when it causes more pain and days when it causes less. There are days where I am ever mindful of its impact upon my life, and days when freedom reigns in my heart and mind. I am not cured, but I am living into my healing. Paraphrasing the words of Paul I can now proclaim, “Thanks be to God who makes me whole through Jesus Christ.”

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



















Coming Next week, a review of my semester, via my review of the films I have viewed this year.

No one thing

This last month as been filled with many thoughts and many gifts. My soul is lighter as I learn more fully how to carry my worth for myself. My soul is lighter as I am gifted to carry the burdens of others.

The gift of constant affirmation of my calling has come like the ocean breaking upon shores of stubborn rock. These affirmations have worn away the hardness of my heat, as I accepti the truth of my value before Almighty God.

I walk each day in health.  Some days better than others. I am learning to let go of the imperfection of yesterday's journey and embrace what I can do today to live a life of health. I am learning to surrender to God that which I can not do myself.

My life is very much about the present. Even as I learn to untangle the past; even as glimpses of the future unfold before me, I am learning to be present.

There is no one story or study that caused these thoughts. There is no one perfect illustration from my life that sums up how the Spirit has been moving in and through me. Simply know dear friend, that I am living well.

That is not to say that pain is absent or that hurt has gone away. That is not to say that anything is perfect.  But that is the point. Perfection is no longer my goal or my standard. Perfection is no longer my noose or the cause of my defeating thoughts.

Perfection is my Father, my God, my Redeemer. I run toward Him. I press into Him.  Some days I walk. Other days I sit, knowing that He is already where I am. Many days He reaches toward me, when I forget to reach toward Him.

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

Imagining Mud

This semester my goal is to post four monthly blog entries arriving on the first Wednesday of each month. My guess is that they will revolve around my class “Christian Perspectives in Health and Healing” and the main text book “Healthy Human Life: A Biblical Witness” info here.

Health and its relationship to spirituality has been an underlying focus of my time here in seminary. This class has given me language to express what the Lord has been teaching me during my time in Chicago. I enrolled in the class to gain a fuller understanding of Shalom. The idea of Shalom carries a sense of wholeness to it.

This is something I wish to explore more deeply. My faith has long been one of segregation. My mind, body, soul, and spirit were all viewed as separate things. My faith was tied to my mind. If I thought correctly, I would act correctly; and my spirit would be at peace. Care for my body was relegated to right actions. These actions focused on the negative, what I didn’t do (smoke, cuss, or chew as the old adage goes). During high school, I didn’t drink alcohol. This wasn’t because I was young and it could harm me, but because it wasn’t what “good Christians did.” Again, my actions were driven by right and wrong. My care for myself was based on avoiding sin.

Since I have come to North Park, words like, holistic, self-care, and Shalom have begun to become a part of my vocabulary, and are finding their way into my practices. Yet, I still struggle with right and wrong. I still wonder if I am doing the things that please God. I too often fall back on a false theology that states God is only pleased with me in relationship to the number of right things I do. I fall back on the false perception that right thinking leads to right action, and wrong/sinful thinking leads to wrong/sinful actions.

God is good, and God heals, however, I often feel like I am still waiting for my healing experience. I have some issues that pride and fear, as well as prudence keep me from describing in detail here on-line. What I have come to understand is that I do believe that I am loved by God. My theology states that I was created by God, but I do not think of myself as created by God.

My imagination does not see the hand of God reaching down to craft my form from mud. It does not sense the breath of God filling my lungs. I do not recognize myself to be one who reflects the image of God. Instead, I see myself as less than.

But this is okay. Because it simply is. What is cannot be changed. What can change is what will be. I currently live in community where my worth is held for me. Others know what I know (that I am made in the imago Dei) but more importantly, they see that I am made in the image of God. They see my worth, and they speak truth into my life. They give light to my soul. They hold for me what I cannot hold for myself.

Someday it will be that I see my own worth. On that day I will hold my own story, and the light in my soul will come from my imagination now freed to view myself as a worthy child of God.

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

Bonus Poem

Many are familiar with the poem

Dance

   As though no one is watching you

Love

   As though you have never been hurt before

Sing

   As though no one can hear you

Live

   As though heaven is on earth

                                               

               --Alfred D Souza

Today, a friend sent out the challenge to write our own poem full of pithy wisdom. Below is my "version"

Answer

Like your grade doesn't depend on it

Debate

Like no matter you say, they will still be your friend

Play

Like the outcome matters

Live

Like it doesn’t

Rest

Just Rest

Be Selfish enough to be able to give to others

Cookies are acceptable breakfast

But only when eaten as though they were cereal

Laugh

Like those listening are charmed by the sound

Love

Even if it means being hurt again

Dance

Your cares away

Worries for another day

Never be ashamed of what brings you true joy

Live
with those who will remind you of your worth, even when you have forgotten

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

First Day of Classes

What I learned today (September 26):

Before Breakfast:
My room mates are cool and want to pool resources for furniture and food.

During a conversation that started after I returned a car:
I learned that God loves our imperfections.
I learned that God's love lessens our desire to sin and our desire to hide our sins.
I learned that God's love does not mean there is no work for us to do in our lives.

During a conversation that took place while checking out a possible couch for the apt.:
I learned that Children's Ministry is important, and not everyone knows that.

During a conversation in the car on the way to pick up an (already sold) futon (thanks random lady on Craig's list who sold the futon even though my roommate called and said he was coming over.)
I learned that God doesn't look at where we are from or how much we make.  Instead he looks at us as his beloved children.

Then I did Greek Homework.

Still not a bad day.

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

My week with JR

JR is a friend of mine from seminary.  We met during my first semester here at North Park.  My week with JR was only four days long, but it was packed with events.

Tuesday:
JR's birthday is July 31.  Last year a group of us celebrated by going to the Moth Story Slam in Chicago.  This year the tradition continued.(when your program lasts for only four years-anything that is done twice is considered tradition).  The two best stories told that night involved a young man learning how much his parents mean to him, and one involving the privileges of getting lost at Six Flags.  Despite the success of the event, the bar let us down with their food service so we decided to hit the Golden Nugget for late night breakfast foods.  We sat around telling our own stories.  I learned that in our group one person fears roller coasters and another fountains.

Oh, and Brian Babylon (the emcee of the night) just may have been a bit intoxicated and coerced into singing the National Anthem at evening's end.

Wednesday:
Wednesday nights are board game night.  To say that JR is a gamer is to say that the sky is blue.  Its obvious, everyone knows it, and it doesn't really due justice to the topic at hand.  I have been invited into JR's world of gaming friends.  But I draw the line at board games (see next week's blog).

This summer the regular host of board game night (Dan-who is one of the best people I have ever met) is remolding his kitchen so the games have been moved to another home.  Jim was out of town so it looked like it would simply be an off week.  However JR wanted to play board games on the actual date of his birth.

I had offered my humble home, but Dan insisted that he wanted to host JR on his birthday.  The three of us played board games at a little card table in the basement.  Nothing unique about the events of the night, however I got to share space with Dan and JR who are fast friends who can have entire conversations quoting lines from Monty Python, Muppets, and punchlines from inside joke culled from years of friendship.  Plus I only lost the first game (one I had never played before) by like two points.

Thursday:
Thursday was the last day of my Hebrew intensive.  That evening the class was invited to the professor's home for a potluck/BBQ.  After hanging out with some really cool people, I stopped by JR's (another really cool person) and we watched Veronica Mars reruns until 3 in the morning.

Friday:
Friday I played my first table top RPG.

 Next Week: My first Table Top or How I learned to stop worrying and love the RPG

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

Previously on...

So its been a while since I have blogged.  There are many stories as to why, but for now they will have to wait.  I learned long ago (in a math class) that trying to play catch up only you leaves you constantly behind and with a C in the class.  Hopefully, we will find time to fill in the gaps as we go along.

Last time I posted I mentioned that I was looking at doing CPE this summer (basically an internship as a hospital chaplain).  That didn't happen.  The short version is that I turned my application in too late to be placed this year.  The long version is one of those stories we need to skip for now.

Not doing CPE this summer means that two other things happened instead.  The first is that I was able to finish out my internship at CCP.  The second is that I was able to take a six week intensive course in Biblical Hebrew.  I am taking Hebrew as I pursue a Masters of Divinity.

Those of you close to the world of seminary, may be asking, "What happened to Children's Ministry?'  While the rest of you are asking, "What is a Masters of  Divinity?"

A Master of Divinity (MDiv) is the four degree (at least that is how long it will take me) that is the most common degree in seminary.  Statistically that may no longer be true, but the perception of most churches is  that an MDiv is the "real" degree, while the others are specializations for "lesser positions."  I know that I am over simplifying the reality, but not by much.

I am pursuing an MDiv degree because it better communicates to churches the roles and responsibilities that I am seeking.  Even when Children's Ministry was my primary focus, I never thought of myself as a Director or Coordinator but as Pastor of Children and/or Families.  My time here at seminary has shown me that the MDiv will afford me further training and experiences that will better equip me to serve in a pastoral role.

I haven't left my passion for Children's Ministry behind.

However, I have found a growing passion for "Christian Formation"  as a whole.  Christian Formation is the encompassing title for the programs and discipleship of all the congregants of a church.  My time in seminary has shown me that good Children's Ministry is closely tied to "what the adults are doing" as well as the fact that "adult" formation can benefit from the attitudes and structures of a good Children's program.  I am now seeking a role as either a Children's Pastor and/or the role of Pastor of Christian Formation.  I have found that I love to teach.  It doesn't matter what subject or what age.  I love making things understandable to others.  More than that I love to see people live out what they are learning.

When you combine this love of teaching with the the joy of watching God change lives (and being called to be a part of that process) you have the calling placed upon my life.  I believe the MDiv is the degree that will best help me live out my calling.  I am excited to see how this becomes reality in the future, as well as how God will use me these next two years in Chicago.

I invite you to share this journey of discovery with me.  Next week I will tell you a story that illustrates one way God has been using me this far.


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

Tune in next week for "Bull Moose-Dead Moose" or "Bullwinkle forgets to eat his supper"