Ultimate Church

This picture is of one of the most famous and popular places in Central Park- The Great Lawn. On a beautiful Sunday, like we had this past weekend, it is a place for tens of thousands of people to get away from city life, to feel the cool grass on their bare feet, to run around, or just rest. There were softball games, roller bladders, bikers, dog-walkers, soccer and football. There were plenty of tourists mixed in with the New Yorkers who retreat here regularly from the concrete jungle.

May 10 was the second Sunday of the month, and for Communitas, that means a party. We have set aside every second Sunday of each month to break out of our norm and to express what it means to be a “church”- a group of people following Jesus together- in a different way. Second Sundays for us are about getting together for fun and laughter and joy, eating together, and in this case, a little game of ultimate Frisbee. Our hope is that some of our friends who are perhaps leery about church, about religion in general, will accept an invitation to come to a party where there are no expectations except to hang out and have some fun together.

I, for one, enjoyed every minute of it. I am paying for the frisbee part with some sore muscles today, but it was worth it. I had a chance to meet some new people, to learn some new things about people I already knew (it is amazing what competition brings out in people you thought you knew really well- I lost count of how many times I was called an old guy by members of the opposing team). It was great to sit on the grass and have conversations that were not constantly interrupted by sirens and horns.

I am reminded that Jesus encountered people, not only in the synagogue or the temple, but also out where life was being lived. His greatest influence on his 12 disciples was probably in the many spontaneous moments shared together rather than in some formal “teaching” session.

If you happen to be in NYC on a second Sunday- look us up. You’ll find us in a park, on a roof-top, on a ball field… It won’t look like church, but the church will be there.

The City That Never Sleeps

I live in a city that has been called "the city that never sleeps." Tonight it lived up to that reputation. I headed out on my bike around midnight (because I don't sleep much either). A couple of my friends really wanted to get free tickets to Saturday Night Live and I guess because Justin Timberlake is on the show, they figured they needed to get in line early- like a couple of days early. Normally the line begins to form at the NBC studious at the Rockefeller Center sometime on Friday. So to be sure- they sent up camp on the sidewalk on Thursday- intending to remain there until Saturday morning. I thought I would pay them a surprise visit- maybe ridicule them a bit.

I love riding the streets of New York City at night. There is still traffic, but it is very manageable. But tonight, the city was wide awake. What should have been a simple 10 minute ride covering about 24 blocks became a bit complicated. I was flying down 33rd Street and as I hit Park Avenue I realized a bunch of people were yelling at me. I had apparently ridden onto the set of a film crew filming a scene for an upcoming movie starring Nicholas Cage. I was forced quickly up onto the sidewalk and out of the way. Then I noticed the two Lamborghinis, the lighting cranes 60 feet up in the air, the truck watering down the pavement, the camera on a boom mounted on the back of a car, etc. I was stuck against a building until there was a break in the action. Look for me in an upcoming Disney Film.

As I neared the NBC studios I came across hundreds of people camped out on the sidewalk on 49th Street, 4 deep and stretching an entire block. They were in sleeping bags and cots and covered in plastic to ward off the heavy rain we had earlier. I went up and down the block several times looking for my friends with no luck, and thinking all the while how crazy they were. I finally asked a NYPD officer if these people were waiting for SNL tickets. Nope. They were waiting for Friday's "Today" show, and the outdoor mini-concert at the studio featuring New Kids on the Block (are they still around? They sure aren't new). The officer told me that many of them have been living on the sidewalk for 6 days. It has been a horrible week of weather- heavy rains and thunderstorms. These fans have been enduring all that for one shot to see the New Kids up close. Hundreds of them.

I found out where the line was for SNL and on my way passed the trucks and crew setting up the concert for the New Kids- at 12:30 AM!. I arrived at the NBC Rainbow Room entrance to find one tent and three people in line. No sign of my friends. Turns out they figured they didn't need to be there that early, so they went home and to bed.

On Monday this week my friend Timm invited me to join him at a taping of The Late Show with David Letterman. I have been a Letterman fan for a long time, so it was pretty cool. We were chosen to be in a group that sat in the front row. The Ed Sullivan Theatre was amazing. David was great. My favorite comedian, Brian Regan, was on the show. It was a really fun experience. But that's all it was- 60 minutes of laughter and good music, and then back to life. Can't see how it changed my life, and I wouldn't have waited 5 hours on the sidewalk if that's what it took. But thanks, Timm, for the tickets (see his blog about it at http://mustardseeddistributed.blogspot.com/)

As I rode home I tried to imagine what would compel people to endure 6 days on the sidewalk for 5 minutes of live music by a boy band. Will they go home satisfied? Will it have been worth it? I know they will post pictures and words on Facebook- telling everyone who cares to listen how close they were to the band. Why do we worship celebrities? In the end, what does seeing or meeting or being near someone famous actually accomplish? Whatever it is, the expectations must be pretty high for people to endure the kind of discomfort I saw tonight.

Well, it's after 1 AM now, and I can hear the noises outside the window telling me that the city is still awake, but I am tired. Plus, I better be rested in case Disney calls asking me to reshoot my scene tomorrow night.

Sunday In NYC

I love this city, and love living here. I don’t know where else I could have a day like I had today.

It began with an early morning 4 mile bike ride in light rain with my friend Dave from my apartment to Central Park. We met Keith and Ralph, and completed a 5 mile run, also in light rain. But what’s a little rain to New Yorkers? The park was full of life, including thousands of bikers who were participating in a bike tour through all five boroughs of New York City- in the rain!
After the run, we biked home through Times Square, dodging the tourists and a parade of Scottish men in kilts playing bagpipes- in the rain! Don’t know what the occasion was; there is always interesting and sometimes unusual stuff going on in this amazing city. We sped down 7th Avenue to 34th, dodging the tourist busses and bagpipes and the constant flow of bikers racing up Broadway.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, we headed out on the subway to attend services at the Salam Arabic Lutheran Church in Brooklyn. The “we” included Timm Kelly, who is on our team and will be moving to the city with his family this summer.

The trip to the church reminded me once again of the immensity of this city. We took the 6 train to the N train, traveling under the East River to the R Train- and finally to our destination- about an hour later- still in New York City.

We got to the church early to meet with the guest speaker for the day, Bishara Awad. Bishara is the President of Bethleham Bible College. He had spoken last Wednesday at Kensington Community Church. He was making a stop in Brooklyn to visit with his daughter and her family before heading back to Israel on Monday. Steve Andrews had called me and suggested that we try to connect with Bishara while he was in town.

The Salam Arabic church service was in Arabic- go figure! My Arabic is worse than my Estonian (see earlier blog). Most of the time Dave, Timm and I were lost, but even with the language barrier we knew we were worshiping God with our Arabic brothers and sisters in Christ. Fortunately, Pastor Khader El- Yateem (who happens to be a graduate of Bethlehem Bible College) translated Bishara’s message for us sitting in the back pew. He taught from the Sermon on the Mount about what it means to “go the second mile.” It was a very challenging message about finding the “second miles” in our lives in which we follow Jesus, sometimes at great personal cost, and always only in his strength.

During the service I was struck with the diversity and the beauty of the varied expressions of the community Jesus has formed and is forming around the world. And I realized again that most of the world is within reach right here in New York City. We sat together for 90 minutes with little in common- different language, culture, and how to worship God- but with the most important thing in common…Jesus.

One of the intriguing side notes is that this church is in the Bay Ridge area of Brooklyn. Timm Kelly is coming to start a new charter school where he will serve as principal in…guess where? Bay Ridge! Perhaps today was the beginning of a something God has for us in terms of building a relationship with Pastor El-Yateem and the Salam Arabic Lutheran Church.
The day ended with Communitas’ weekly gathering. We talked tonight about the kind of community we trust Jesus is forming us to be as we lock arms together. Jason shared his story of how he found Jesus- or rather how Jesus found him. Keith led us in communion as we remembered Jesus love for us.

After the gathering, a bunch of us hung out at a local diner just around the corner as we do most Sunday nights. I eavesdropped in on conversations around the table- the laughter and the struggles and the insults- mostly directed at me!
A pretty full day- bikers and bagpipes, long subway rides- receiving communion in the morning in Arabic in the evening in English. As I said, I love this city, I love living here, and I love this group of people who collectively are Communitas.

Saturday in the Park

A new condo high rise is going up a block from my apartment on the corner of 33rd and 2nd Ave. A big banner stretches across the building announcing that it is “Murray Hill’s First Green Condo”. I am not sure what makes a condo “green”, but I know what the phrase is intended to communicate. The builders care about the environment.

Being “green” is important these days. This past Wednesday was Earth Day. Since 1970 it has served as a day to focus on the well-being of this planet we inhabit. Across the country and around the globe people have awakened to the importance of taking care of planet Earth. But caring for the environment is not a new idea. In the creation account in Genesis, after each day of work, God comments on his own handiwork with these words: “and it was good”. And his first words to the human race had to do with caring for what he had created. I believe God thinks that “going green”, while not really a new idea, is a good idea nevertheless.

I have to confess that most of my life I cared little for matters of the environment. It’s not that I was pro-pollution. I simply didn’t think that in the long run what we did with planet Earth mattered much since my theology- my interpretation of the Bible- indicated that eventually God was going to destroy all that he had created and start all over again. Saving planet earth was like trying to save a sinking ship that had no chance of staying afloat.

I don’t think that way any more. I see the future differently…a future where God takes what he once made as very good and restores it to its original beauty. In the meantime, the original mandate stands- to be caretakers of God’s “green” earth.

With that in mind, Communitas joined 4985 other volunteers this past Saturday who spread across New York City’s 5 boroughs to clean up parks. Our group of 15 was assigned to Cunningham Park in Queens. Armed with rakes, shovels and plastic bags we did not change the world. But we did enjoy being outside on a very warm spring day. We enjoyed being together, working (and goofing off some), and in the end, after 109 trash bags full, changing one small part of God’s creation just a little bit.

On a Greyhound Bus

Since moving to NYC last summer, I have had many “first-time” experiences- like riding in a taxi cab, seeing a airliner floating down the Hudson River, and going to the second floor of the County Court house a few weeks ago to file some papers, stumbling onto the set of “Law and Order” as it was being filmed (don’t look for me in an upcoming episode). Now to these illustrious first time events I can add, “taking a long trip on a Greyhound bus”. I don’t recommend it.

I have concluded that the people who work for Greyhound do not like their jobs, and particularly do not like people. I think it may be a requirement to be hired. And the people who take long bus trips- well, since I am now in that company, I better not share my observations. So why the long bus trip?

As I shared in an earlier blog, living away from family creates a certain strain that I have not experienced until this point in my life. One has to be particular about when to return “home”, and how. On Sunday evening, April 5, right after our Communitas gathering, I began to receive a series of texts from family members saying that my dad’s health seemed to be failing quickly. Words like “two or three days to live” came along with “or he could live for months or years.” Over the next 24 hours I continued to get varied updates. I had just been in Michigan less than two weeks ago to help my mom get my dad into a long-term care facility. He was very confused mentally, but his body seemed strong. How did this happen so quickly? Should I jump on a plane (or a bus) and head back to Michigan again…so soon? The rational part of me said that this could be the case for the next several years. Can I rush home every time there is a medical crisis with my dad?

This was my mental dilemma throughout the day on Monday, April 6. I tried to work, but found myself checking airfares throughout the day, hoping they would magically fall dramatically in price. I still didn’t know if I should go, or how I would even know if I should go.

Later that evening, I got another call with more detail. He had pneumonia, had suffered a mild heart attack, and was in full renal failure. My sister was driving from St. Paul. One brother was driving down from Elk Rapids. They were going to bring him home on Tuesday for hospice care. He was not expected to live long.

There was a bus leaving NYC on Tuesday evening at 10:15 PM. It was a 14 hour trip, and would get me in around noon on Wednesday. And the price was right- $48 instead of $848 to fly. I still felt uncertain about leaving New York again, but finally, with the nudging of Chris, decided it was the right thing to do. So Tuesday evening, with my 16 year old son, Caleb, I left Manhattan on our first (and last?) Greyhound trip back to Michigan to see my dad before he died.

The bus was very uncomfortable. I think I finally fell asleep around 2:45 AM. I was awakened by my phone vibrating in my pocket. I glanced at my watch and saw it was nearly 3:30 AM. I knew it could not be good news. Before answering, I looked at the caller ID. It was my mom. “Hi mom, what’s going on”? (I knew). Her first words: “God was merciful. You father went to be with him about an hour ago.” It was a brief conversation that I will always remember- marking the end of my dad’s life here on earth- April 8, 2009. Caleb and I talked for awhile as the dark bus rolled through the hills of Pennsylvania in an April snowstorm that eventually brought the bus to a complete stop. All my 5 siblings had made it home in time. I was the only one not there. I admit to feeling angry- at myself for delaying the decision to leave, and perhaps at God for not helping out a bit and letting me get there on time.

But God was merciful. My last conversation with my dad had occurred just 12 days earlier. I was trying to get him to dinner in the nursing home cafeteria. He wouldn’t come. I told him that I was his son and that I would take him. He hit me and said “you are not my son.” He was suffering and all of us were suffering watching him gradually withdraw into a reality where we could not go. Since that day, I had been asking God to take him home. I never imagined it would come so quickly.

The funeral was on April 11- the day before Easter. The words of Paul had special meaning that weekend:

When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” “Where, O death, is your victory. Where, O death, is your sting?”

As we grieve the death of my father, and feel the sting of death, we also celebrate his life here on earth and the life that has now just begun and will never end- a life without tears or pain or sorrow, and without death. Jesus overcame all of these- for my dad, who received these by his grace. As Paul wrote elsewhere, we grieve, but not as those who have no hope. Our hope (certainty) is Jesus.

My dad has left behind a great family- pictured below on the day of his funeral. Never has Jesus meant so much, nor my family meant so much to me.




He is Risen. So is my dad!

Estonia???

One of the things I never thought would happen when I left last summer for NYC to plant a church is that I would become an associate member of the Estonian Educational Society. In fact, I am not sure I could have located Estonia on a map. Of course, you have to remember that when I studied geography, the Soviet Union took up a large percentage of the globe, including what is now, or once again, the country of Estonia. But as you can see by my membership card, I am a member.


You might be asking yourself, “what does Estonia have to do with church planting? “ Nothing, except that Communitas’ third meeting place is in what is called The Estonian House. About 2 months ago we saw that we were outgrowing our space at 61 Gramercy Park North. It had served us well since October, but we were getting a little tight with our modest growth over the months. So we began to pray about the next space. After a number of dead ends, costs too high, wrong location, etc. we found this in our back yard- two blocks from where our family lives. To be eligible to rent the space, I had to “join” at the steep rate of $50 annual dues. I may be the only member who does not speak a word of Estonian- is that a language?



There are many buildings like this in our area due to the United Nations, which is just 10 blocks north. It is a kind of community gathering space for Estonians who work and live in the area. It turned out to be totally available every Sunday, at a great price, and is large enough for us to double in size before we hit the road again.

This space not only gives us more room, it also gives us more space to do things like have music and worship. Of course, it helps to do those things if you have musicians and someone to lead worship, which we did not- until a few weeks ago. A couple walked into our Sunday evening gathering in mid-February and after that first visit felt totally drawn to become part of our community. Turns out Neal plays guitar and sings and Val sings and plays the piano. In fact, Val is in New York as a musical theatre grad auditioning for parts on and off Broadway. They are both very gifted, love Jesus, and have years of experience leading worship.

Sunday evening, April 5 was such an encouraging night. As I looked around at our community gathered together in our new space, led in worship of Jesus by our new friends, I saw God’s gracious hand who gave us these gifts when we did not know where or how to find them. I don’t know what is in the future for Communitas, but my suspicion is that God is going to lead and provide.



Well, Nägemiseni for now. (That’s Estonian for “goodbye”.

Counting My Days

This past Monday evening I popped a video tape into the VCR and sat down with my brothers and sisters and watched all the old family movies that had been shot with an 8 mm camera and transferred to video tape some years ago. For you youngsters, 8 mm is what we had before video tape. There was no sound, and you actually had to send the film in to get it developed, then feed it into a projector and show it on a portable movie screen or on the wall. Yeah, I know, stone-age.

We watched birthdays and Christmas mornings and family vacations. We saw our family grow from 2 kids to 6, and our family shrink as grandparents disappeared from family gatherings as the years went by. We laughed at clothes and hairstyles and fads as we moved from the fifties through the sixties and into the seventies.

The setting was the family room of my parent’s house in Michigan. We had come from New York and St. Paul and northern Michigan to be together as a family on the night before my dad, who is suffering horribly from advanced dementia, would leave his home for the last time and move into a facility that would be able to provide adequate care. At the dinner table I think it was one of my sisters who suggested we watch the home movies. At first, I thought it was a horrible idea- it was already painful enough. “Yeah, let’s watch old family movies so we can cry some more!!” But she was right. It was a good thing to do. My dad sat in the chair, pretty much unaware of what was going on or even that all the people in the room were his children. But the man on the screen we watched was another thing. He was a twenty-seven year old walking with his two sons. He was a thirty-two year old teaching his kids how to water ski. He was running along side his son as he showed him how to ride a bike. But most of the time, he was not on the screen at all. The movies revealed what he saw as he held the camera and pointed it at his wife and sons and daughters . He was capturing his family on film. We got to see what he saw through those decades.

It was a bittersweet experience- to contrast that young man with the man he is now. I think that evening will help me to remember him not as the man who forgot my name or that I was his son, but as the man who for most of his years was full of life. Somehow, it helped to bring some joy in the midst of our deep sorrow.

Later in the evening, I found myself thinking about how quickly a life goes by. I found myself thinking about the dozens of video tapes I have of my family- each with three hours of family history, and these actually have sound! I realize how often I live as if life will just go on unchanged, but it won’t. And whether my life is being captured on film to be reviewed on some future day or not, it is nevertheless being lived and spent everyday. While this is not a new thought for me- right now there is a lot more urgency attached to it. I will live one time- and I will leave an imprint on those around me and on my world.



Moses asked God (Psalm 90) to teach him to number his days so that he could gain a heart of wisdom. This week I understand that prayer more than I have in the past, and finding myself asking God for the same thing.