A cool cup of water.

Our team had just returned to our camp after a long day serving the poor in the city of Balan in Haiti.  I had to admit, I was embarrassed how tired I was from just a few days in the Haitian sun.  What long term missionaries endure hurt my brain.  What the residents of this poor town experienced on a daily basis stretched beyond what my mind could fathom.

    Our week was wrapping up and we were all exhausted.  Upon return to camp I made sure to drink my favorite Haitian soda, “Limonade.” (So as to not get dehydrated, which was really my way of justifying crazy amounts of sugar intake.) 

After showering and eating we gathered as a team on the roof for another night of recap, prayer and worship.  We traded stories like currency and the sunset stretched into late evening.  I specifically remember a moment when someone spoke about the kids who were always lying about how much cold water they had been given.  Those sneaky kids had been intentionally deceiving us so as to gain more water and we started to game plan about how to sniff them out so they wouldn’t “double dip” us.  “That kid with the old red Nike’s is the worst!”  A few of us mentioned the same kids with the same outfits.  There was some laughter again.  “That sneak!”  Yet underneath our laughter was another sound.  One of the hosts at the orphanage was beginning to sob.  It was small at first but it began to rise above the laughter.  We grew silent. 
Her words stung.

“Why should a child have to manipulate us for clean water?
Why should we call a child who WANTS WATER a sneak? Don’t they deserve water?

All of us were cut to the heart.  More tears.  Bibles began to flip. 
The words of Jesus echoed in the humid evening breeze.

And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward. (Mt. 10:24)

Lord Jesus, this feels so wrong. What have these children done any differently than our own children to not deserve water.  That conversation has stuck with me.  A day later as our “Tap-tap” drove through town we saw a man laying on the side of the rode, passed out from dehydration.  We pulled over and administered aid, water and passed him some money.  Our hearts were sufficiently broken but time often causes one to forget...until today
…
Today, I entered a Starbucks in my neighborhood I don’t go to often. To be quite honest, it is a terrible place to work.  It’s right up against a trolley station and is surrounded by transients without a penny to their name.  They usually come in, use the restroom, ask for a water, or today I saw a dude ask for a hot water and you know what? 

They totally gave it to him. 

This is me, "Obeying my thirst, yo."  Probably quite unaware of the irony.

What kind of business strategy is that?  You give water to the homeless so they stick around and paying customers like me have no seat and feel nervous when a crack head starts to stare me down and scream crazy crap. (Which has happened)  It unnerves me and I am there to work not perform an exorcism.  When the pea soup starts flying, I’m out.  I’ve seen drug deals go down here and the hand-outs only encourages it to continue.   BUT, as you have probably guessed, today I remembered the words of Jesus, once again. 

Dang His words can cut like a knife.

If a non-Christian, publicly traded, organization, with shareholders can practice the work of Jesus, what’s my excuse?  

Who can you offer a glass of water to today? 
Do they deserve it any more than you? 
Do they deserve it any less? 

THINK OF THE CHILDREN!!!!!

MAN, I’ve struggled to write this one. Usually I sit down and the words pour out of me.  This is a bit personal and thus I’ve had to navigate my own feelings before I could put pen to paper, or fingers to laptop, or whatever. This essay is not meant to be a judgment of anyone, but more a defense of doing ministry where we do it.  Hopefully, if I offend, you will have grace for me. 

So here it is.  The last several months I’ve been told several times our church location is too dangerous, not for adults…but for kids.  I’d like to offer several responses. Here they are.

#1- Control over safety is a farce.
I’ve lived in very hard neighborhoods as a child and some really nice ones. I remember when my family decided we were moving from the mean streets of inner city LA (where all my friends were) to some stupid suburb in San Diego.  I was entering fourth grade and I was devastated. However, my parents assured me, our neighborhood, (which I constantly played in till dusk as a third grader) was in fact, too dangerous.  So we moved to a nice suburb.  Within a month, there was an incident.  I remember getting out of the shower and drying myself off in my new fancy room, boxes everywhere from moving in and my mattress still on the floor.  I heard a car backfire on our cross street.  Soon after I heard a helicopter circling our street. As a curious fourth grade kid, I threw on my Gecko parachute pants and booked for the house behind ours.  There I saw a young man’s body covered by a police blanket. The image of his feet sticking out the blanket still burns in my mind.  It turned out a rival gang came to his door, asked for him by name and shot him at his doorstep with his horrified mother watching. That day I realized you cannot escape evil.  You cannot escape danger.  Danger is everywhere.  It was even in our impressive new house in the burbs.

Since then I have actually lived in the “safest large community” for rape and murder in the United States and guess what happens there every year? Rape and murder. Yep. There too.

A few months ago, I had a very close friend who told me he would not visit our church because he thought the neighborhood was too dangerous.  He sheepishly told me a couple weeks later a swat team stormed the house next door with many, many, guns drawn, ready for action, IN HIS NICE NEIGHBORHOOD.

Yet, this Saturday I took my daughter trick or treating in our church’s “dangerous” neighborhood and only encountered kindness and never felt anything less than safe.

Safety is an illusion.  We are given a finite amount of breaths on this earth.  I would prefer God use my family now, even with mild danger, knowing I could die tomorrow from a heart attack in Compton or I could fall down the escalator at Nordstrom’s.  I could get in a car accident in Watts or drown in fancy pants, La Jolla.  Death happens everywhere and we all have an expiration date.  There is nothing worse than a full jug of milk, unused and past the expiration.  I don’t want to be that jug of sour milk.  I’d prefer God lift a light container and say, “Yup, all used up.” (I like to think He was cool drinking directly from the jug, cause He’s cool like that.)

#2- Sheltering children can be more dangerous.
Kids who have grown up in a very sheltered environment seem to struggle the most as adults.  The ones I meet, often, seem ill equipped to handle real life. These are the same adults who brandish several hundred-dollar bills on the trolley to the Padre game.  WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? 

Of course, they have never been taught how to be careful because they have never been in a situation where they had to be.  Welp, enjoy that walk from the trolley to the stadium cause you about to get robbed.

Maybe think of it this way:  You have a pet lion, Simba, and you raise him in the comfort of your nice home.  (Scar is not going to get him here!)  So you feed him steak twice a day, brush his fur and sing him lullabies every night. (The circle of life!) He has no contact with mean lions, nor any understanding of dentists, who hunt lions in their spare time.  When Simba is 18 he decides to go back to the savannah.  How is Simba going to do?  Like how many seconds will he last? Scar and his evil cadre of hyenas will have him for lunch.  But wait, weren’t you sheltering him for his safety?

#3- Is physical safety more important than spiritual?
I once had a youth pastor friend who would ask parents of his students a rough question:  Would you rather your kids be successful or know Jesus? You’d be surprised how many parents chose the former and made rationalization that the latter would still come.  Maybe you wouldn’t be surprised how many parents didn’t even answer.  Perhaps it felt like an unfair question to ask, I mean the answer should be both right?

So today, parent, I ask you another unfair question.  If you could choose physical safety or spiritual safety for your children, which would you choose?  I think most Christians would come to the correct conclusion in word, if not deed. As for me, I would rather my children’s eternity be safe more than anything else.  Hard to think about, I know.  But if we truly believe eternity is on the line we should act like it.  I would like to contend that a safe, sterile Christian environment, surrounded by programs, perfectly fit to entertain and build up the self esteem of our children may be spiritually setting them up for failure. Because we all know life is not perfectly programed. They will one day meet a spiritual version of a hyena troop or Scar, himself and they will falter. (Taking the Lion King all the way here, sorry) However, when children serve and meet the lost, the poor and the hurting, I believe they experience and hold fast to the love of Christ at a foundational, forever level.

#4- Flesh and blood versus ALL of God’s children-
As a parent, I feel a strong “evolutionary” or God given desire to protect my beautiful children.  They share my blood.  They share my DNA.  They go to sleep with my childhood teddy bear, Huggle.  My love for them transcends words. 

However, there are children who do not share my DNA in our community and they are languishing.  They are taught drug dealers and gangbangers are the only people of influence in the city.  These kids go to schools we avoid. There is no one to teach them otherwise.  I would contend as Christians, we are clearly called to love them as outlined in James one. (Read it, I’ll wait) How can we move further away from these children when God so explicitly tells us to care for them, all over the scriptures?

The least of these should become important like our children.  They are God’s children.

Okay now, this is gonna be harsh, but, are we treating God’s children like bastards, doing everything we can to avoid their hazards for fear they come in contact with our own?  Do we see them as poor young Harry Potter needing to be locked under the stairs so as not to inconvenience us, and our friends?  I imagine meeting Jesus saying, “Yes, I know you told us to watch over those kids but our kids were in danger.’”  Will he accept our flimsy denials of understanding?  It’s plainly written in His book.  It’s not veiled.  It’s not confusing.  It’s an obvious command.

#5- One caveat.
Just because our church is in an area some might call “dangerous,” doesn’t mean we don’t take steps to protect them.

Such as:
A)We have a computerized check in/check out system so the right person is always taking home the right child.
B) No child is ever left alone with only one volunteer.
C) Our children are in a building set up for kids only.
D) We background check every volunteer that works with kids.

Finally, I know many of you are called into your suburbs by God to share the gospel with those who live near you and not necessarily in the city we live.  This is not a judgment of you.  You do your thing.  Matter of fact, this is not a judgment of anyone. This is a plea to consider the places in our city where Jesus might be found. Often he was with the forgotten, the broken and the hurting.   That is where I would like to be found too.  Will you join us?

See you Sunday,

-Pastor Dale

Life on Cruise Control.

It’s nice to be back in my hometown once again.  Although traffic has been a bit of a rude awakening.  And by rude awakening I mean like someone pouring water and angry bees on your face while you sleep, kinda, rude awakening. 

On Wednesday and Thursday this week I probably drove for about 5 hours, IN THE SAME COUNTY.  I realize for most San Diegan’s this is not a big deal but I should remind you I just moved back from Kansas.  In Wichita, I always gave myself 30+ minutes to be somewhere and would sit in my car, in the parking lot, for 15 minutes.  In Wichita, during rush hour, I would give myself 45 minutes to get there and sit in my car, in the parking lot, for a half an hour.  In Wichita, I usually couldn’t hear you complain about traffic because I was laughing to loud and pointing at you. 

“Right, traffic…hahahahahaha…wait, were you being serious?”

Now I am home and I remember real traffic…shudder.  I have become an aggressive driver once again (Not a jerk, mind you) and I am remembering how to get around town.  In Kansas when you had a long drive you could throw on some music and hit cruise control all the way to your destination and although it was flat and kinda boring you would get there easily.  Here, I have found cruise control is just not an option. 

Sometimes there is a flat tire on the 805 and cars are lined up for miles just to see it.  This makes cruise control difficult.  Other times they’ve decided to do road work on the 163 north, 5 north, 805 north and 15 north at the same time.  This makes cruise control difficult.  Sometimes it rains and people still drive 100mph causing 2 accidents per driver on the road.  This makes cruise control difficult.  Sometimes it’s just hot and 3.1 million people wanna get them some beach time, AT THE SAME TIME.  This, too makes cruise control difficult. 

Spiritually I’ve felt the same thing.  It’s so nice to throw on cruise and just chill but easy is not always the life of one who loves their Savior and their city well.  Loving San Diego well, as missionaries, means we are going to have many starts, stops and rough transitions.  If we persevere, we may get to a beautiful new destination we couldn’t have imagined while on cruise.  It will be harder.  Life won’t be smooth as it could be, but it will be oh so right.   If you’ve ever contemplated joining us or another church plant, I can tell you, it may FEEL harder but it is so worth it.  And if we do it right, we are going to pick up new believers along the way. 

You know what happens when you pick up new people? 

Two words: Carpool. Lane.   

Living out of a "tent." Perspective on first world problems.

Complaint #1- So today we held another worship service for our baby church.  We sat under two canopies and melted as the heat rose to 99 degrees.  I killed a million ants before the service.
Complaint #2- My family is staying at my mom’s house…the house I moved to when I was in 4th grade.  I watched Saved by the Bell in this house.  My parents spanked me in this house.  We’ve been here for over three months, living out of boxes and trying to save for a home.  Seriously, we hang all our clothing in BOXES.  It’s a little humiliating and out of the way.
Complaint #3- The only homes in the area where we want to live are extremely expensive or so small and dilapidated we would could not imagine living in them.  Our realtor had a cockroach fall on her hand at one house!
There was one house in the South San Diego area we looked at recently.  It was bad.  Seriously, there would be no way to fit all four of us in 850 square feet. As we walked through the small home, with no AC, no dishwasher and barely any room we were frustrated.

That brings me to perspective.  (Thanks for sticking it out, got real complain-y up in here)

Blessing #1-
Our church has a place to meet, free of charge that faces our neighbors.  It’s a pretty sweet set up in a back yard.  We usually have a cool breeze and rarely get up to 99.  We have great canopies to cover us from the sun.  We also have AC for our kids space, icy bottled water and coffee. 

Legit, huh? 

As we meet with little to no expense, we can save our money for the day we are larger and will need to pay for a meeting space.  What a blessing!  God has also blessed us with many great volunteers dedicated to this neighborhood. 

Blessing #2-
Our family is staying in what is starting to feel like a mansion, free of charge so we can save.  God also has us in the community I grew up in for a reason.  We have the ability to love our neighbors well because there is already some relationship to start with and I speak a similar language.  My mom has AC and can host all our friends who do not.  We are a cool zone for our church and my kiddos see their grandma a ton.

Blessing #3-
We have the ability to look for homes.  We have not considered sharing a house with anyone else.  Many people in SoCal could not even imagine owning a home without sharing it with several families. As we walked through that tiny home, we noticed something:  Each room seemed to contain an entire family.  Can I repeat that?  Each room contained an entire family.  850 square feet for around 12-16 people.  Should I dare shake my fist at God when he has provided beyond what I deserve?

Being a church in the city is not supposed to be easy in our own measure but we continue because we are blessed to be a blessing.  Israel lived out of tents for 40 years.  Surely we can suck it up and see the good around us in this season.  Whatever position you find yourself in today, I pray perspective finds you with open arms.  I pray you see the blessings around you.  Believer, whatever you walk through today, you have a God who is for you and not against you.  I pray He will be your bottled water on a sunny day.   

Dear Special needs parent: The church needs you and you need us.

“Lisa” had a sort of frantic, frenetic, frizzy hair that screamed “I just don’t care anymore.” Bags under her eyes told the story of the sleep situation at home.  It had been a hard knock life for Lisa.  As we sat in the brightly colored waiting room, equipped with a Thomas the Tank Engine table, we chatted.  Then she found out I was a pastor and the conversation turned to shame.  “I really wanted to go to church, I just don’t feel welcome with HIM and honestly, It’s hard to be there and I feel judged, so we just worship our own way.  Honestly, we’ve tried.”  How could I blame her?  Her husband was gone after the arrival of her special needs son and Lisa marched on doing whatever she had to for her two kids. 

Lisa is not alone.  Indeed, I have read that 85% of marriages with a special needs child ends in divorce.  Eighty-five, freaking percent!

***********************************************************************************

Fast-forward a few years to our church plant in Kansas, meeting in a large theatre downtown.  As our pastor Casey preached, someone began to shout during the message.  It wasn’t super noticeable to me, over the beautiful cacophony of crying babies in the back.  However, I noticed a family get up from their seats.  Their daughter was struggling to walk and she had something like a dog toy in her mouth.  Through the squeaky toy I heard periodic shouts.  The family began to walk out with apologetic faces directed toward those sitting in their vicinity. They were a nuisance and knew their place.  I bolted to meet them in the lobby. We made eye contact. 

“We are so sorry to be such a distraction.”  They said.

Tears formed in my eyes and I explained they have nothing to be sorry for.  They were always welcome.  I also explained how my son had special needs and there were several others in our church family.  They took a deep breath, exhaled…they were home. 

***********************************************************************************

“Austin” joined us on a Sunday morning.  You could tell Austin was special.  He loved everyone and everyone loved him.  When Austin saw me and recognized me from my band’s CD’s he picked me up in a hug…He literally picked me up.  Austin had to be at least 6’4.  Austin was baptized less than a year later and is now a greeter, a beautiful, friendly face at the front door of our congregation.  His overwhelming kindness makes everyone feel welcome.  Recently he has started bringing a new friend who will rap for you if you ask and sometimes if you don’t ask.  We are a better church for having Austin.  I am better for having known him. 

So special needs parent, why do I write this?  I want to say a few things to you.
#1-You are not alone.  There are so many of us who share your struggle. 
Don’t be alone.
#2-Please seek out the church.  If you struggle on your first few visits, try again.  You need the church.  You need people who can help you, serve you, pray for you, bless you, baby sit for you, drive you to doctors appointments and sometimes just bring you a meal.  You need the church.  Let us try and help.  Don’t do church on your own.  That’s just not church.  Church is so much more than Sunday.
#3-We are going to fail you, but would you stick it out with us?  Church can be awkward and messy, but churches that profess Jesus as Lord, want to be in community with you.  Childcare and Sunday school will be harder to figure out, but we’d like to figure it out with you.  My son often has one person in Kid’s Life just for him.  We use volunteers, but we want to make it work. 
#4- We need you and your child.  My daughter has learned so much about compassion, empathy and joy from her little brother.  Also, your child has made you into a parent worth learning from.  There may be a day when you can help another family through the same journey you’ve traveled through.   The children of our church can grow from knowing your child too!
#5- If you are still married, go out on dates to nurture your relationship.  You need breaks.  Maybe the church can help.

Special needs parent, we need you.  You need us.  See you soon.

-Pastor Dale Huntington
City Life Church, San Diego

An open letter to the LGBTQ community from a pastor of a tiny church.

I’ve thought this through a lot. I’ve considered writing it often. Today as the SCOTUS made it’s landmark decision and my Facebook feed was filled with hashtags of #lovewins and echos of bigotry and #hatelost, I found the tension too much to bear.  I can foresee the day my children will be mocked at school for their “archaic views” and it breaks my heart.  So this letter is a request for your help.

#1. Who I am:
I have picketed against Fred Phelps.  I have several friends who are gay, or cohabitating that have always felt welcome in my home, amongst my family. I believe if you asked any friend of a different faith, the vast majority would say I have handled them with compassion and kindness.  So, I promise, I don’t hate you.  I don’t think YOU are what’s wrong with America and I hope some of you would be open to calling me friend one day, which is why I have written out this awkward plea.

#2-The Bible: 
I believe the Bible to be the inspired, inerrant word of God.  I did not grow up in a Christian home and this was not something I came to lightly.  Matter of fact I thought Christians were arrogant hypocrites who blindly followed some goofy legend and yet when I began to actually read the Bible I felt a veil lifted from my eyes and I was smitten.   There have been things that vex me at times within its ledgers and yet I cannot help but believe.

#3- Homosexuality:
I have read the Bible all the way through many times in about 6 translations and cannot get past what it has to say about homosexuality.  WELL CRAP!  WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT?   The Old Testament verses could maybe be put aside as contextual but I struggle to read the New Testament and not come to any different conclusion than: sex outside of Marriage between a man and a woman is sin.  I want to believe something else, but I don’t and so here I am, asking for your assistance. 
To my LGBTQ friends, I need your help.

#4- My plea:
Please show me grace. 

I know many of you have experienced something quite ungraceful from people who would call themselves Jesus followers.  I have talked to some who were even beaten for their sexuality and it sickens me.  Honestly, I made fun of people for their sexuality before I became a believer at 16 and I am ashamed at my behavior in many areas of my life before I became a believer.  

A season is coming, and well, it is already here where I will be called a bigot for what I believe.  My son and daughter will be seen as warped children of the KKK in some circles.  Yet my beliefs are steadfast and even though at times I would like to trade them in for something more palatable to our society, I believe what I believe. 

So, my plea to you is this: Please treat me kindly, perhaps like you have not been treated.  My hope is you would respect what my faith teaches and allow me to show you that my love for Christ absolutely still overflows to you.  I do not see you as my enemy.  I do not see your sin any worse than my own.  For the love of Pete, pastors are failing left and right and we would have the audacity to say our crap doesn’t smell?  It is only by the life, death and resurrection of Christ that I would have the confidence to declare myself forgiven. 

I know to many of you, I will just be a bigot like those in the south, in the 50’s, who thought burning crosses was Jesus’ idea of a good time.  However, I really think if you got to know many Christians, you would find someone who firmly believes so much in the Bible and loves you so much that we would so want to speak truth for the sake of your eternal soul, but even if you disagreed vehemently, they would treat you with kindness.  It feels awkward and probably a bit annoying to you but I promise sharing what is considered hostile to many, is not always easy for us either.  And Yet, I push on because I actually believe what I say I believe.  If you would like to be friends with Christians, many of us would be happy to put a gag on this topic and pursue friendship with you.  You know how we feel.  We know how you feel.  I can deal with that tension if you can.

Last thought:
I don’t hate you.  I love you, but I need your help. 

God Bless you,

-Dale Huntington
City Life Church, San Diego

PS- We can totally go some place other than chic fil a.
PPS- I want you to know that I do not believe this is a choice, nor do I believe just being homosexual is a sin.  I am friends with those who are born homosexual and choose not to practice.
PPPS- I'm disabling the comments.  We can go hang out at the sizzler and you can tell me how I am wrong but apparently blog comments is not the place.

This is an old picture but it was a cool day.

The good Samaritan: RETOLD.

Reader's note:
Whenever we think about the good Samaritan, we usually consider a generous, loving soul who cares so much for others.  What we forget is when Jesus spoke about the Samaritan, He was speaking of a person who would have been reviled by all of Jesus' listeners. Our positive view of the Samaritans today,  loses some of the punch that Jesus' narrative would have carried.  So for your consideration, here is a retelling of that famous story.  I've taken some poetic license, hoping you know this is a departure from scripture in order to re-contextualize a once powerful message.

............................

Meet Carlos:
Carlos grew up in the Barrio Logan.  When he was 18 his parents had saved up enough money at their mattress store to help send him to San Jose state to study computer programming on a partial scholarship.  He was the first of his family to go to college and his parents were beyond proud.  He excelled at school and even interned for a few different Silicon Valley companies before starting his own business in San Diego.  He was doing well.  One day his father called him asking for help.  It seemed he needed someone to load up the box truck for a big delivery in the morning and dad threw his back out the day before.  This was a big order and they really needed Carlos to come through. Carlos, being a good son, said he would do it after work.  That day he worked his butt off to finish work early so he could get out to the Barrio to load the box truck before the padre game started.  However, one of his clients called to complain about something, which ended up adding several hours to his day.  He left his office around 9pm without even remembering to eat lunch or dinner and he was not even considering making the padre game at this point.  Just go help his dad and get home.  He was in a bad mood but sometimes after being in an office all day, doing grunt work, like moving mattresses around, made him feel a bit more like he was alive. He had changed into his old nasty racquetball sweats and was glad he was alone, because he had not washed them after using them recently and they stunk.  He arrived at 9:30pm to the little store-front.   He grabbed the keys to the box truck and pulled it into the alley so he could more easily load the mattresses.  Sometimes thieves were known to hang out in the alley, but he was Carlos, everyone knew Carlos and he figured no one would mess with him.  He got out of the box truck, unlocked and opened the garage door to his parent’s business and then quickly walked back toward the to open up the back of the truck.  He heard a weird noise behind him and whipped his head around to check.  Nothing there.  It was dark and he was suddenly feeling a bit creeped out, being alone, even in his old hood.  He stopped for a moment, felt a quick shiver go down his spine and got back to work.  As he reached for the back of the box truck, to open it up, something strange happened.  He suddenly felt a wave of dizziness and nausea.  Soon after, he felt a searing pain in the back of his head.  It stung like a knife in his skull.  He vomited, collapsed, felt his body involuntarily convulse and fell asleep.    

……………….

Meet Sylvester:
Sylvester was not from the Barrio.  Sylvester was actually from North County, San Diego.   Sylvester was always good at math and he quickly made a good living of it.  After graduating from UCSD with honors, he found himself tutoring math students at a prestigious and very expensive learning center in La Jolla.  During that time he met a nice woman and married her and had children.  They bought a house in La Jolla and life was going great, until he began to tutor a beautiful 16 year old girl who was terrible at math. Her grades were so terrible that she found herself in the tutoring lab with Sylvester almost daily.  They hit it off right away and soon after, the tutoring relationship became in inappropriate personal relationship.  Sylvester knew it was wrong and that it was hurting the girl, himself and his family but he just couldn’t stop himself.  Eventually her parents found out and Sylvester was thrown in jail.  His wife took the house in the divorce proceedings and he was told he would never see his children again.  After serving his time in prison Sylvester was put on the sex offenders list and after struggling to find a job, because of his status, he found himself homeless. 

Sylvester began collecting cans in the Barrio and other parts of the downtown area.  It was nothing like his old job but he did what he had to, to survive.  He worked hard and eventually saved up over $450 from the cans he sold to the recycling businesses in the area.  Even now his shopping cart was almost full with crushed cans, which he knew meant he was going to get about 14 more dollars tomorrow.  He was on his way back up! Soon he would be able to afford a weekly hotel where he could take a hot shower and drink all the free tap water he wanted. These cans had become his hope and he was on the verge of having a “livable” life once again.  One night he found himself walking down an alley looking for just a few more cans before he would call it a night and go to sleep.  He found himself intrigued by the truck lights beaming in the alley at such a late hour.   
He figured he would check it out…

……………………………….

Finding Carlos:
It was there in the alley that Sylvester saw Carlos. Based on Carlos’ appearance in his smelly old sweats, Sylvester figured he was homeless.  As he moved closer to Carlos he saw him on the ground surrounded by a pool of his own puke and blood.  Sylvester realized Carlos was very sick.  He had no phone to dial 911 and all the businesses nearby had been closed for hours. 

No one was around and Sylvester only had one option.  Quickly, he ran to his shopping cart, turned it over and shoveled out all the cans he had collected in the last 4 days.  Recently he had gone to a 24 hour medical clinic, perhaps a half a mile away, and he knew they could help him if he only got the sick man there.  He turned his, now empty shopping cart right side up, lined it with his jacket and carefully lifted Carlos into his cart.  Carlos didn’t move at all and it made Sylvester worry.  The cart shook violently as Sylvester ran through the alley and down the street.  He had to focus to keep the cart from turning over on the uneven sidewalk as he flew with a speed he didn’t know the cart could even manage.  Sylvester felt like he had lost his life before and he didn’t want to see someone else lose theirs.  Sylvester’s calves burned as he ran.  He remembered how hungry he was and it was starting to feel like this clinic was further away than he remembered.   As he turned the corner, the medical clinic came into view and he began to shout “HELP!” but no one came outside.  He rushed into the clinic where an older man sat behind a desk.   The old man informed Sylvester he would have to pay the full $400 upfront to see the doctor or they would have to go to an ER 3 miles away.  Without a second thought, Sylvester grabbed his wad of cash…The very cash he was going to use to stay at the hotel, for hot showers, for free tap water…for his new life and quickly gave it to the man behind the desk. 

Carlos was diagnosed with a brain tumor and soon after transferred to a hospital where he began to receive the treatment he needed to eventually recover.  Sylvester continued to struggle to get jobs (because of his status as a sex offender) but even with only a few dollars to his name and no cans to fill his cart, his new life started that day… He was no longer just Sylvester the sex offender.  He was now Carlos’ neighbor.

You're going to start a church where??? Ministry on the wrong side of the tracks.

Would you like to know a secret?  Ministry in the suburbs is dangerous, sometimes worse than the urban context.  The people in the suburbs are often better at hiding and concealing their sin. 

Yet, every time I mention to someone where our Church meets, I often hear the same thing… “That’s not a good part of town.”

Every time I tell someone where I would like to move our family, I am told. 
“That’s a dangerous part of town.  Don’t move there”

I heard it today.  I heard it last week and I’ve heard it repeated often.  However, if the Christians decide to stay out of certain rough areas, they will only get worse.  Have we not received so great a salvation to compel us to bring the light of Christ to the dark places?  Gang-bangers, prostitutes and dealers all start out as children and these neighborhoods are flush with children bearing malleable minds in need of positive affirmation, encouragement and someone to look up to.

Luke 14:13: But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind...

Christians should not think an area is too dangerous to enter, but instead the neighborhood is too dangerous not to enter! These communities need Jesus and if we do not enter in, who will? 

About two weeks into our stay in San Diego, two team members had their bikes stolen.  It hurts and they may not be able to buy new ones, but each time a window is broken or a bike is stolen we are reminded why we are there.  Jesus is the answer and we come holding Him up as the only hope for our communities. 

-Dale

PS.
Today was a special day as we celebrated in worship as City Life Church, San Diego for the first time.  Twenty-two of us gathered, prayed, worshipped and heard from God’s word.  It was beautiful. 

Surfing is not easy.

So I went surfing yesterday.  I squeezed into my wetsuit, which nine years ago was new and straight up boss.  Today that same wetsuit looks a bit old and is tearing in some seams.   It may have something to do with the fact that I am nine years older and have a gut, or perhaps it has something to do with the wetsuit being nine years older.  Either way, I got to go surfing yesterday and had a pretty good time.  The kids joined me at the shore as I came in and I have to admit I had a great time.  I may be out of shape but I was still able to catch a bunch of waves, do a back-side bottom turn and make a drop that others didn’t make. 

When I was out surfing I was thinking about how weird it is that I surf.  I’ll level with you.  I am a bit afraid of the ocean.  When I see a rock below me I freak out.  (Does that look like a shark to you?) When I drop in on a piddly wave of about 4 feet I am scared.  I’ve been surfing over 20 years and I still get nervous surfing.   I think this has to be one of the reasons I enjoy it so much.  I don’t have the talent to surf and yet I still do it.  Every time I drop in, it shows I can conquer my fears of the water.  My grit and determination make me a surfer. Each wave: a victory. 

As many of you know, we are a week away from planting city life church, here in San Diego.  I love planting a church for an entirely different reason.  There is no amount of hard work or dedication on my behalf that will make the church great.  No matter how hard I work it is God who will build His Church.  He will do great things in our midst and we cannot take the credit.  Scary, but I trust him a whole lot more than I trust myself.  So here we go people.   Let’s ride a wave and watch God do it all.

On Becoming a House of Peace...

I’m an extrovert.  So that means I love people, right?  I’m not sure who decided that but it is a gross exaggeration.  Extroverts need time to themselves without 7 kids destroying your house.  Extroverts need to sit and read or watch movies without anyone sharing their struggles with you.  Extroverts need peace.  Parties get old.  Extroverts need sleep too, people.

It may surprise you when I say being outwardly focused on our neighborhood is hard.  Loving people is hard.  Our house is an embassy in our neighborhood.  You need to escape something? Come to our house.  You need a snack? C’mon over.  You need safety? Saddle up partner.  This designation as a house of peace did not come through our extrovert-id-ness, though.  Actually it came from intentionality and response to the love of Christ.  It came from our willingness to be awkward and annoying for the sake of love.  We’ve run out to meet the new neighbor getting the mail.  We’ve gone over when we needed vanilla for a cake.  We’ve invited peeps to parties, BBQ’s, trick or treating, super bowls and walks around the neighborhood.  I’ve had neighbors mock me to my face. We actually once sent a letter to a neighbor entitled: “Awkward letter to our neighbor.” 

There are a five things you need to know about being a house of peace:
1. Sometimes there is no respite from your house and you have to just say:
“no, the house is closed.”
Other times you may just be tired and need to suck it up and love people like Christ loves them, despite having had a rough day with the kids or a poopy day at work.

2. No matter how extroverted or introverted you are, you will have to rely on the love of the Holy Spirit to reach out well to those around you.  Every believer needs to do it and nobody is fully equipped for it.

3.  The more you reach out to your neighbors; the more you may find yourself loving them with all your heart.  We have four families we pray and care much for.  We also have two widows nearby who we dearly love.  Finally there are six girls and two boys in our area that I absolutely love like family and would give my right arm for.  We chose to love them, but found out quickly they were easily loveable. 

4. The more you reach out to your neighbors, the more you may find they can help and love you well.  When we began fixing up our house to sell it our neighbors stepped in.  They have helped watch our kids, fixed our electrical wiring, become my running partner, loaned us movies, taught me how to drywall, let us come over when our house smelled like toxic paint and most of all lifted our spirits in true friendship. 

5. If you have children, they will watch the way you love others.  Also others will see the way you love your children.  Do not forsake either one.

The reaching out part may be hard at first, but dang if it isn’t worth it.  We get to share the love of Christ with those who surround us at work, school and in our communities.  We can choose to never get to know them or we can allow love and familiarity to break down walls.

Our house in Kansas is under contract. In less than two months we are moving back home to San Diego where we hope to afford a humble home and I cannot wait to write my first “Awkward letter from your neighbor.”  I can’t wait, not because it’s easy, but because I know it will be worth the effort. 

Throwing away my deceased dad's stuff.

“What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.” –James 4:14

Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?
A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever. -Ecclesiastes 1:1-3

Today I returned home from San Diego.  The temp when I left was around 68.  The temp in Wichita?…wait for it…15.  That’ll make your bull run. 

The purpose of my trip was to spend some time with my mom in her garage to make room for our church’s trailer, which we will need when we move back to San Diego at the end of May.  Each morning I got up before six and we started working hard on the garage. (Save one morning of surfing)  I also managed to pack in many fruitful meetings with local ministry leaders in San Diego.  If I wasn’t meeting or eating we were probably packing things tightly into the trash, taking things to AMVETS or dancing around trying to remove spider webs from our bodies.  (I’m convinced there is still a spider in my clothes.)  It was a great trip and my mom was a gracious host.

As we opened up myriad boxes (which had not been opened for 20-25 years) we began to find more and more things we just didn’t know what to do with.   What do I do with my dad’s diplomas?  There are many of them.  How about the many drafts of his doctoral dissertation?  Pictures of his students from 40 years ago?  Books he had as a child?  Essays, poems and doodles he has written?  Published stories?  Old Stamps? These things were once cherished.  This went on for a long time and while we kept the most important things, my mom and I were struck with a thought:  Everything we keep, will be thrown away one day.  If she keeps things, I will probably have to throw them away one day.  (We are hoping to buy a tiny house in San Diego)  If I keep them, my children will have to wrestle with throwing them away one day.  My treasures will be junk to someone. 

What a sobering thought.  The things I create, the music I’ve worked so hard on, my reputation gained will one day be only a shadow.  And no one on this earth will know I existed.  Significant thought, huh?  As my mom grieved the things I not so gingerly tossed in the trash, we held another funeral for our own legacies.  At least it was 71 degrees as we read our own obituaries.

This week I had the honor of attending a pastor’s roundtable hosted by Larry Osborne, who lamented the idea of a self centered “legacy.”  He posited that no matter what you do for your church they will one day forget you.  They could put your name on a building, but 15 years later no one would actually know your personality or your heart.  

You.  Are.  A.  Mist.

So what does that leave us with?  Shall we despair?  Should we eat and drink, for tomorrow we die?  Surely not.  Is that a way to live?

Our legacy is that we are participants in thousands of years worth of the Church.  Our legacy has to be pouring into the next generation.  Our legacy has to be teaching others the love of Christ and TEACHING THEM TO TEACH OTHERS!  If we feed people the gospel but cannot teach them to share with others and so on, we have failed. 

Church, may we press onward with vigor!  Our legacy is the legacy of Christ!  What joy that we are included in thousands of years of history!  We only have today so make it count. 
Amen,
-Dale 

The 20 Best Bathrooms in San Diego County!

I can’t imagine I’m the only person tired of the Buzzfeed “articles” that fight for our collective eyeballs and advertising dollars on social media.  I mean, I already know the best carne asada burrito in San Diego.  (Lolita’s, yo!)  I don’t need a “news source” to tell me San Diego is awesome.

This influx of San Diego articles on my news feed has recently brought unease to the surface of my heart.  I feel like I can’t share them or even speak of them less people think I am moving to San Diego for the wrong reasons.  I’ve already heard it a million times: 

“San Diego, huh?  I feel SO BAD FOR YOU!  It must be hard to enjoy all that good weather.  You are really roughing it for Jesus, eh?”     

Ultimately I am going for Jesus and willingly moving my family 1300+ miles to a house that will be smaller than my present one for 3-4 times the price. We will be sharing the gospel with people in addiction, loss and despair, but, hooray, it will be 70 degrees sometimes! 

The fact is, I WILL go surfing.  I WILL take my family to the park in December and I WILL rekindle a stoke for my hometown that sat like smoldering embers in the back of my brain after leaving California for the Midwest six years ago.  I'm sorry but I will fill your Instagram feed with countless sunset pictures and they will be gorgeous. 

I am not ashamed that San Diego just might be the world’s finest city.  
I will seek the peace and prosperity of the city where God has placed me. (See Jeremiah 29:7)  I will even try and get you to move and join me.  There is much to do and we will need workers for the great harvest. 

Am I ashamed that I love San Diego?  Nope.  Do I feel called to share the gospel in San Diego?  Yep. 

I can live in the tension.

So come on in.  The water’s fine.

The way to San Diego is through Dallas.

The way home is through Dallas.  I know that's weird, but my sense of direction is not off.  I just cannot escape how God has used the "Metroplex," deep in the heart of Texas, with that awful dry rub Barbeque, to pull me back west.

DALLAS EXPERIENCE #1
I think it all probably started in August of 2013.  Exhausted, I landed in Texas after a week in Haiti, (only a week after a seven state tour with my worship band.)  Honestly, I didn’t want to be in Texas, in the middle of summer, in the middle of the busiest year of my life.   I also didn’t want to be in fancy pants Dallas after being in the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  (Culture shock much?)

However, the Southern Baptist Church was putting on The Send North America conference and as a part of an SBC supported Church plant, I felt compelled to go.  The whole conference was compelling.  There were so many great speakers including Dhati Lewis, Lecrae, Kevin Ezell, Luis Palau, Ed Stetzer and music led by a personal favorite, Kristy Nockels.  But there was one particular moment that really stuck out to us.  Casey, our lead pastor, pushed all of us to go to a break out session on the SEND cities in North America.  (Cities with great influence, size and lost-ness)  Ashley and I decided we might as well go to San Diego since it was our hometown.  At the breakout we heard all about the need for Christ Centered churches in San Diego. (90% of the people don’t claim Christian faith)  Our SEND coordinator, Victor, painted a great picture of why churches needed to be planted in San Diego.  We left the break out convicted but not convinced that we might be called home.  We also ended up spending time with the staff of the Village church in Dallas and were encouraged.  This led to:

Dallas experience #2-
After my time with The Village Church in 2013.  I scheduled a return visit in February of 2014 with the worship pastor, Michael Bleecker.  Michael is a super encouraging dude, who doesn’t really care if you know that he’s won ASCAP and Dove awards.  The fact that he spent an entire day with me was overwhelming.  He’s talented and crazy humble.  While there, Michael and the entire worship staff was sharing with me their excitement over planting a church.  Something stirred in my heart after hearing the fruit of the plant.  I went home and listened to everything I could from the Village about Church planting and felt the same stirring in my heart, which we felt at the SEND conference.   They also began a series in Acts that left me inspired.

Dallas #3-
June 2014, The day we announced our desire to plant city life San Diego, I left after the service for a conference put on by DCPI (Dynamic Church planting International) at a building for Gateway Church in…DALLAS.  I learned and grew more in my resolve and drove back to Kansas a better pastor. 

Dallas #4-
Once again I was back in Dallas in October 2014 for the Village 101 conference.  There, I was heartened by the encouraging staff and found myself with an even deeper love for the Church and doing it all the right way. 

Would I have planted without Dallas?  Yeah, probably, but God used this flat, crowded mass of earth to draw me closer to Himself and to his will.  I am not sure when I’ll return to Dallas but I am forever thankful for the SEND conference, The Village Church, DCPI and Mr. Michael Bleecker who encouraged me.  Dallas, your BBQ is inferior to Kansas in every way but you equip the church well and for that I am forever grateful.

How being a cheapskate can make you a "better" Christian

11-7-14
So my wife is a cheapskate…

Like, “This apple didn’t taste good.  Lets take it back,” cheapskate.
Like, “You bought TWO redboxes???” Cheap.
Like, “Who needs new jeans when I have these jeans that fit me in 2005?”
(She’s lost about 80 million pounds since then.)
You get it. She’s cheap. She prefers the term thrifty, but I think cheapskate has more pizazz.Today I had an epiphany about how my wife has slowly made me a better missionary to our city.Before we were married I used to eat out CONSTANTLY. I paid someone to mow my lawn. I got gas at the closest station because it was…well…close.

Today, I realized I (ME?) was mowing the lawn. I started about a year ago and we’ve already saved a huge chunk of money. Asking myself how this happened I also opined how the grass was not as green as it used to be. I then recalled my thrifty wife talked me into shutting off the sprinklers years ago. We eat out once a week for date night. We thrive off of hand me downs for the kids. We buy food in bulk and rarely waste it. We buy generic stuff whenever we can and we bake our own gluten free bread.

Why tell you all this stuff? Is it to tell you how goofy or awesome my wife is? Partly, however, there is more to it.

When you budget for food, you can budget for giving. When you budget for giving, God can use you in big ways. Now, I am not talking about giving ten percent to your church. Make that happen capt’n.

What I am talking about is generosity. We budget for generosity and when the moment comes we don’t have to talk to each other about it. The system works. (Barring a Simpsons, season one fiasco) There are no fights, no guilt trips and no waiting to ask till it’s too late. We thrift so we can be generous.

If you are terrible at this, start eating out one fewer time a week and setting aside what you saved for a day of generosity and you’ll see how cool it can be to give from what you have and not what you don’t.

-Dale

Is San Diego ready for the Church?

9-17-14

I’ve had many meetings in San Diego in the last two days. In five meetings with lead pastors, I’ve seen a few common themes. Firstly, there are many godly people here in San Diego being used by God in great ways. Secondly, I’ve heard a theme of “soil.” Why is soil so important in a church plant? In Matthew 13 Jesus talks about the seed falling upon different types of soil and yielding much different results.So what type of soil is San Diego?  Bad soil, full of weeds and death?If you grew up in the 90’s, like me, you’d have watched “The Lion King” 400 times, learning about the circle of life from James Earl Jones and perhaps Sir Elton John. What dies, usually falls to the earth and sweetens the soil for growth.  Also they mention the Wheel of Fortune for some reason.  (Note: I’m talking gardening not pantheism!)

Secular San Diegan’s might say they have achieved a renaissance, where religion no longer drives or controls people in our city, to which I say hooray! I believe the death of a controlling evangelicalism in San Diego has left fertile soil for growth.  Where we are no longer in control, we can be servants, advocates and peacemakers.  Most people have very little experience (good or bad) with the Church now and most of it is from television programs they don’t really take seriously.

Perhaps this can be a season where out of death there is growth. Death of the Church’s influence in San Diego has also created something beautiful…unity! One pastor I talked to recently spoke of how 40 pastors are getting together next week to sign a covenant, to only speak positively about each other in our city! There you are Church! A Church undivided and focused on Jesus and the lost is compelling. What a glorious movement we are privileged to join. The Holy Spirit is doing a work in cities across the world and we get to take part. How will you join in?

-Dale

On discerning God's will to join us in San Diego

In the past several weeks we’ve encountered a few Kansas folks who are struggling to discern if God may be calling them to help plant City Life Church in San Diego. While I do not claim to be an expert on God’s will, I may be able to offer you a few pointers.   But first, check out these verses:Genesis 12:1- “The Lord had said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.”Genesis 12:10- “Now there was a famine in the land. So Abram went down to Egypt to sojourn there, for the famine was severe in the land.”Look at both verses. Do you see a difference? In verse one God calls Abram away from his country. Nine verses later Abram leaves due to severe famine and not due to a call from the Lord. In both situations, Abram ends up prospering and God redeems the situation for His glory. Certainly I would much rather receive a verbal call from God.

But if you haven’t heard a verbal call how are you to evaluate? I would ask yourself a few questions.

1. Does this decision honor God?
Will you go to share the Gospel, or soak up sun? If you are going for the sun, most likely you won’t last. There are many tough things in the City and if you are there for the wrong reasons you may despair, also you’ll hold us back from real mission.

2. Do you trust the leadership?
If you believe me a heretic, I wouldn’t go. Do you believe the leadership has integrity, vision from God and worshipful hearts? If you answered no to any of those three, DON’T GO!

3. Do you desire to go?
f God has not called you to go explicitly and you’d prefer not to go, don’t. That was easy.

4. Is it feasible? If you have a family, do you have some savings to help make the transition? Do you have a trade you can do in San Diego? Do you have a health challenge that would prohibit you from travel? San Diego is expensive. You’ll need a plan.

5. What does wise counsel say?
I’d consult people who have gone before you. Are there people who have participated in national or international missions who might be able to speak to your situation? Consult them now. Your friends and family might be wise, but they also might scare you away from doing great work for the Kingdom.

If you’ve gone through all these steps and still believe you should go. It’s time to talk to us.
We’d love to pray with you through this decision.

-Dale

PS.  If you are not praying about it, you probably shouldn’t go too!

So I had a dream recently

8-9-2014 (Archive)

Two nights ago I had a dream that I was in the downtown area of San Diego.  Most likely it was the Gas Lamp but I felt like I could see most of San Diego, so it was probably a weird dream state version of my home town.  Boats were coming into the harbor with Christmas lights on them.  It was evening and I was by the pool of some swanky hotel downtown.  A cool evening breeze rustled the palm trees.  Bright blue lights from the pool, reflecting on the faces of those around me. They all seemed to know I was planting a church in downtown San Diego and they all casually remarked how nice it was to start a church in paradise.  A woman with short blonde hair, red lipstick, perfect white teeth and a shiny cocktail dress pointed a finger out to “America’s finest city” and remarked at how perfect it was. As my gaze went beyond the smiling faces and the laughter faded to the background, I saw downtown San Diego.  Small pockets of light shone throughout the downtown area but darkness  dominated.  I knew in my heart pain, hurt and fear were lurking in the shadows.  “No” I said.  “It is not perfect.”  I felt my heartbeat quicken.  I was ruining this weird party.  Smiles faded.  I was the wet blanket.  They insisted I was wrong and soon after I awoke.”Paradise.”

That is where I am taking my family.  I believe God is working in great ways in San Diego, through His Church and through His Holy Spirit.  I am honored He would call our family to join in the assault on the darkness.  Many will not understand.  Many will not see the desperate need.  However, we will bear the light with boldness as we venture into places cold and murky.  Jesus is our Light.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” -John 1:5