tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19257322723887988292024-03-12T19:35:44.313-07:00XPATRIATEGlobalizing The Way We Think and LivePalmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-2086879190543026862012-07-09T16:08:00.000-07:002012-07-09T16:08:08.238-07:00One Sole at a TimeCEDARVILLE UNIVERSITY - Press Release - CEDARVILLE, OHIO – On June 2, Cedarville University students and faculty returned from a trip to Liberia, a trip that radically changed their lives.
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Jon Purple, dean for student life programs, traveled with four Cedarville students to Liberia to distribute thousands of shoes with a group led by Palmer Chinchen, pastor of The Grove Bible Church in Chandler, Arizona. The group consisted of a medical team that included two Cedarville nursing students, an orphanage team that Cedarville students also participated in, a construction team, and a motorbike team, which Purple was on.
The group stayed at African Bible College University (ABCU) in Yekepa, Liberia, and ABCU students also served with the team.
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Cedarville’s involvement in the trip began on September 8, 2011, when Cedarville University students held a Barefoot Thursday on the campus in order to collect shoes to send to Liberia with Chinchen and his team. On that date Chinchen came and spoke at Cedarville and invited students to join him and his church on the trip to Liberia to distribute the thousands of shoes, and a few students joined him in this incredible opportunity to serve.
“The trip was amazing in many ways,” Purple said. “It was hard to see the poverty but so encouraging to see the desire of African believers to share the Gospel in their country, the receptivity and friendliness of the Liberian people, and their thankfulness for the gift of these shoes.”
One of the highlights for Purple was having a chance to serve and worship alongside fellow African believers.
“It was a blessing to experience Christianity from a non-white, non-western, non-middle class perspective and to see people who have so little materially, but yet are filled with such joy,” Purple said. “It was a blessing to serve with them as well. It’s their country, and they know the culture. We were blessed to be the hands and feet of Jesus there, led by our African brothers and sisters in Christ.”
Erica Graham, a sophomore student at Cedarville, said that the trip revealed to her so much about the power of God and the power of faith and prayer.
“Missions trips like this show us how to be the hands-and-feet of Jesus and remind us that it is possible through prayer and the power of God to accomplish more than we could ever plan,” Graham said. “Every moment of our lives we make choices, and those choices can either further or advance the kingdom of God. This trip reminded me of how we can actively choose each day of our lives to advance the kingdom.”
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Rebekah Hoesterey, a junior student at Cedarville, discovered during the trip the fulfillment that comes with serving others and how our comfortable American culture can often hinder us from a life of service. “God showed me that He doesn’t care where I serve, as long as I’m serving!” Hoesterey said.
She shared that the trip also showed her the true meaning of joy. “I know for a fact that I have never been so joyful as I was in Africa, despite being hungry, sweaty, and dirty, far away from home, air conditioning, or running water to brush your teeth in. Joy is giving yourself away, and God re-lit the passion in my heart to do that full-fledged, whether it be here in America or across the world in a little orphanage in Yekepa, Liberia.”
Hoesterey also shared that even though not every student at Cedarville can move to Africa, students can still keep giving themselves away in the surrounding communities. “Trips like this encourage students to pour their life into other people, and what we always find is that the more you pour out, the more you are poured into. The more you give away, the more God is faithful to give back to you, and it is truly a fulfilling experience.” <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rVDKCX-1c4E/T_tioMSt0VI/AAAAAAAAAGM/0RHt6Fch1xc/s1600/beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="214" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rVDKCX-1c4E/T_tioMSt0VI/AAAAAAAAAGM/0RHt6Fch1xc/s320/beach.jpg" /></a></div>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-25852055755070266672011-12-16T08:49:00.000-08:002011-12-16T09:10:19.734-08:00BANNED FROM THE TABLE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-66-2MrXbyfY/Tut5y_4mg-I/AAAAAAAAAGA/3G-hedLFaw0/s1600/huffpost.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 79px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-66-2MrXbyfY/Tut5y_4mg-I/AAAAAAAAAGA/3G-hedLFaw0/s320/huffpost.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686772871534642146" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">This article was originally published by <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/palmer-chinchen/banned-from-the-table_b_1127651.html">THE HUFFINGTON POST</a> Dec. 7, 2011 - by Palmer Chinchen </span><br /><br />“Interracial Couple Ban.” (<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/11/30/interracial-couple-banned-from-kentucky-church_n_1121582.html">HuffPo Dec. 2, 2011</a>) I could not believe what I was reading. An interracial couple is being banned from a Kentucky church in 2011? Unbelievable. Banned from participating in worship, banned from membership, banned from the Lord’s table. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Ridiculous. </span><br /> . . .<br /><br />Banned is the worst of feelings. I know just a bit of what it’s like. <br /><br />The day had been one of the longest of my life, literally. I boarded a Kenyan Airways flight in Nairobi and flew west all day with the sun, to Liberia. When I landed a friend met me and we drove to my war-ravaged guesthouse on the Monrovia beach. The next day I would travel eight hours into the jungle to meet our team. <br /><br />The amber African sun was dipping into the Atlantic and the sky was growing dark, “Hold on,” I shouted to my ride, as I pulled my bags out of the back of his Toyota pickup, “Let me make sure there’s food here before you leave.” I was famished and didn’t want to be stranded with no car and no food. I found Nellie, who ran the guesthouse, and she assured me dinner would be waiting for me at the NGO house just three doors down, at six o’clock. <br /><br />At six I walked down the dirt road by the beach to the NGO house. It was the only one on the beach with metal fencing, razor wire around the top, and an iron gate. I knocked on the dark mahogany door until a young American answered, “How can I help you?”<br /><br />“I’m here for dinner,” I smiled. <br /><br />“Dinner? Who said you could have dinner here?” <br /><br />“Nellie. Nellie said I should come down here at six and there would be dinner.” <br /><br />Now picture this, my guesthouse looked like a grenade hit it during the civil war. The sinks were rusted out, mold covered the walls, and the rooms were stifling. As I stood outside the NGO house I could feel the chill from the air conditioners, I could see a couple of other Americans watching ESPN -- these guys even had a satellite dish! Best of all, I could see the table was set. <br /><br />“Yea, I don’t know anything about that. There’s no food for you here,” he answered nonchalantly. <br /><br />“No, you don’t understand. I’ve just flown all day from Kenya and my driver already left and I’m starved.” Plus, this was an aid organization that was in Africa to feed hungry people – I was in Africa and I was hungry. <br /><br />“Don’t know what to tell you,” was his answer, “there’s no food for you here.” <br /><br />He shut the door. <br /><br />I was banned. <br /><br />Walking back to my gritty guesthouse, I think the shame stung more than my hunger pangs. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">UNSOCIAL CIRCLES</span><br />There’s something in us that likes to keep people out. When we are on the inside and someone else is on the out, it almost feels good. <br /><br />Maybe that’s why even churches can become places of exclusion. <br /><br />Social circles are not there to keep people connected, they are there to keep people out. That’s what C.S. Lewis’ says in his classic essay, The Inner Ring. In it he describes the problem of rings that exist in every realm of society. “I believe that in all men’s lives at certain periods, and in many men’s lives at all periods between infancy and extreme old age, one of the most dominant elements is the desire to be inside the local ring and the terror of being left outside.”1 <br /><br />But the kingdom of God is not supposed to be that way, the kingdom of heaven came to earth to end exclusion and bring inclusion.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">RESERVATIONS</span><br />When Jesus arrived on the scene the religious ones were good at exclusion. Sinners were excluded, women, foreigners, immigrants, the divorced, the sick. They were all banned. <br /><br />Scott McKnight2 uses the powerful metaphor of table to talk about Jewish exclusion. For religious Jews table had always been a place of segregation. Table was reserved for the pure Jew. Their table was for people who looked like them, agreed with them, dressed like them, and talked like them.<br /> <br />We have all seen exclusion. It’s still alive today. The high school cafeteria is a microcosm of what it looks like in practically every aspect of life. When you walk into a high school cafeteria, there may be fifty tables, but you are not free to sit at whichever table you like; because tables are where life separates. There’s the emo table, the baseball table, the surfer table, the cheerleader table, burnout table. And then there’s the table for kids who have no table. At this table high schoolers sit far apart and don’t say a word, because they theirs is not really a table at all. <br /><br />Unfortunately, this kind of exclusion does not stop when you graduate from high school. Segregation, discrimination, racism, and bigotry still happen. We exclude because of income, looks, race, background, gender, marital status, ethnicity, nationality, language, and accent. <br /><br />Can I pause to say, if you have ever been discriminated against in any way, I am sorry. <br /><br />It’s time for that to end, and as people of God we can end it together. <br /> <br />When I hear people in churches talk about who is welcomed, I wonder this, What ever made us think that the kingdom of heaven is only for people like me; who talk like me, look like me, and agree with me? <br /><br />It’s not. <br /><br />Of all the places in the world where people gather, the church has to be a place where racial and ethnic diversity is celebrated and promoted. The church (Christians everywhere) reflects God’s best when we follow Him with people of other ethnicities, race, nationality, and color. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">INCLUDE THE OTHER</span><br />When Jesus appeared on the scene he turned the tables upside down. <br /><br />“The next time you put on a dinner, don’t just invite your friends and family and rich neighbors, the kind of people who will return the favor. Invite some people who never get invited out, the misfits from the wrong side of the tracks.”4 <br /><br />Our natural tendency is, if a person is different we move away from them and exclude them. Jesus says, go toward them, include them. <br /><br />Jesus loved to compare the kingdom of God to a dinner party, and everyone was invited; a scandalously open invitation. Jesus shares a story to illustrate the inclusive nature of his kingdom: “A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests… the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full.’”5 <br /><br />Do you see how this kind of kingdom is for single parents, business owners and factory workers, divorced men and women, company executives and the unemployed, university faculty and high school dropouts, blended families and… mixed race couples!<br /> . . .<br /> <br />Walking back into my dilapidated guesthouse by the beach, I found three former missionary kids – now in their thirty’s – sitting at a small table having dinner. They were back in the country trying to get a generator running for the mission hospital. “Palmer, why are you back already? We thought you had left for dinner.” <br /><br />“Yea, so did I,” I laughed. “They said they had no food for me.” <br /><br />“Hey, well come sit down and eat with us,” one of them offered. I tried to decline, because I could see their serving dishes were already empty. But they insisted, and each of them took food off their plates – pieces of chicken, rice, collard greens – until my plate was full. <br /><br />As we ate together that night, laughing about memories of growing up in Liberia, I don’t think it was the food that felt so good, it was the invitation to sit at their table. <br /><br /><br />1. C.S. Lewis. www.lewissociety.org/innerring.php<br />2. Scott McKnight. The Jesus Creed. Brewster: Paraclete Press. 2004. 33-35. <br />3. Revelation 5:9-10<br />4. Matthew 14:12, The Message<br />5. Luke 14:16-23Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-18216599051615521192011-11-18T08:41:00.000-08:002011-11-18T08:50:26.436-08:00ONE MAN CANNOT LIFT A HOUSE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6qcuU14sV9U/TsaK-aEiHiI/AAAAAAAAAF0/tQwn1R8P_p8/s1600/IDENTITY.tiff"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 94px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6qcuU14sV9U/TsaK-aEiHiI/AAAAAAAAAF0/tQwn1R8P_p8/s320/IDENTITY.tiff" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676377185101946402" /></a><span style="font-style:italic;">This article was originally published by <a href="http://www.identityconference.com/one-man-cannot-lift-a-house-by-author-palmer-chinchen">IDENTITY</a> <br />Nov. 15, 2011 <br />by Palmer Chinchen </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">One man cannot lift a house. </span>That’s what Malawians say when they are ready to build a new nyumba (home) for their family. They rally the people of they village to come together to make mud bricks. The clay (dothi) is dug from a damp pit near the swamp and carried in brick-shaped wooden hoppers from the pit to the home site, where the clay will dry before being stacked into a kiln and fired. The hoppers are toted with a jog, so the mud will settle and form a solid brick. It’s back breaking, exhausting. One man can make a few dozen mud bricks, but thousands are needed. It would take him weeks, on his own. Physically he is unable, One man cannot lift a house. But when the community responds, they will do it in a day. <br /><br />And everyone knows, when it’s time to build their home, they will remind him, one man cannot lift a house. And he will come, he will carry mud for them too. <br /><br />I’ve spent about half my life in Africa, and that’s one of my favorite things Malawians do. They never leave a man to build his home alone, but together -- out of the mire and clay -- they lift a house. <br /><br />On this side of the Atlantic we don’t think much about needing the village, because we try to do it alone. <br />. . .<br /><br />One of my great passions is to see an end to extreme poverty. It sounds audacious, but I think it was Jeffry Sachs’ writing that first convinced me it can be done. <br /><br />Sachs, Professor of Sustainable Development at Columbia University (The End of Poverty), says by the year 2025 we can end extreme poverty. Some call Sachs the smartest man in the world – I think they’re right. He has used his “shock economics” to turn fledging economies around.1 And he‘s convinced that if affluent nations and people pool their resources -- and it only takes one percent of our wealth -- we can end the plight of the poorest of the poor. <br /><br />The effort, however, must be massive and concentrated. <br /> . . .<br /><br />As we talk about ending extreme poverty, I would advocate that we point our attention toward Africa, and here’s the reason. <br /><br />Bono has famously said, “There is a continent—Africa—being consumed by flames. When the history books are written this generation will be known for the Internet, the war on terror and what we did—or did not do—to put the fire out in Africa. We must engage as individuals and communities to confront these issues.”2 <br /><br />Bono is right, the world’s landscape is peppered with dire places and people, but the most desperate are in Africa. <br /><br />I was doing an interview with a radio station in Ohio when the host opened it up to callers. As soon as he did a man phoned in and said, “I’m calling to say I disagree with you Palmer. I don’t think people need to go to places like Africa to meet the needs of this world, we have enough problems right here in Ohio.” <br /><br />“Really?” I asked, with skepticisms heavy in my voice. “In Ohio are women chain to trees and sold into slavery, because that’s what happening in Sudan? In Ohio do starving parents trade their toddlers for a bag of maize in the dry season, because that’s what’s happening in Malawi? In Ohio are eight-year-old boys forced to carry guns and kill their own families, because that’s what’s happening in Uganda? In Ohio do babies die every thirty seconds from malaria, because that’s what happening across the continent of Africa?<br /><br />The fires are burning in Africa, that’s the reason our passions, abilities, and resources must be poured out there. <br /><br />I believe the reason we have been unable to put out the fires in Africa is because we haven’t fought them with enough fire hoses. If your house is burning, one hose will not put the fire out. But what if you doused the flames with a hundred hoses? <br /><br />That’s why we must collaborate, and make our efforts massive and concentrated. <br /><br />And we don’t have to give or do enough to make poor countries or poor people rich; we simply have to do enough to help them get their foot on the first rung of the economic ladder. When countries get their foot on the ladder of development they generally are able to climb upwards. But if a country or person is trapped below the ladder and the first rung is too high off the ground, they can’t even get started. <br /> . . .<br /><br />And here’s where it begins, with individuals giving their their lives away to change what’s broken in this world. It starts with one farmer in Ohio show a farmer in Malawi how to irrigate more effectively. It starts with churches, and circle-of-friends, and communities adopting one village to give them clean water. It starts with countries caring about other countries and putting medical facilities in every region. <br /><br />It starts with one person.<br /><br />That one person is you. <br /> <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">COLLABORATE AND SHARE</span><br />My challenge to the church – Christians everywhere – is to collaborate and share. When we begin to pool our resources, and abilities, and passion we can make right what is wrong in this world. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">Share Everything</span></span><br />In Robert Fulghum’s memorable essay, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, he makes a list of all the life-long lessons he learned in kindergarten. My favorite lesson on his list is, Share Everything. <br /><br />In the Bible, Luke writes of a moment when a frustrated man approaches Jesus and pleads, “Jesus, tell my bother to share with me!” 4 In response Jesus tells this story: A man has a huge harvest, more than he will ever be able to eat. In fact, he probably has enough to last the rest of his life. But instead of sharing, he builds bigger barns. He doesn’t need it and still he won’t share it! And then something highly unexpected happens… he dies. <br /><br />Jesus’ point is, share! Share everything. It’s just stuff.<br /><br />I don’t know what it is for you that God is telling you to share, but you know. We all know. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Share What You do Best</span></span><br />God gifts each of us with unique and beautiful passions and abilities. Use them for God. <br /><br />I was recently in Malawi with Steve, a US Airways pilot from my church. He led our team that spent two weeks loving orphans of AIDS. Steve brought stacks of Xerox paper. In every village where they cared for children, Steve spent his time teaching kids how to build and fly paper airplanes. Share what you do best. <br /><br />Dustin is twenty-four and repairs motorcycles for a living. So when I was recruiting dirt-bikers to ride the jungle trails of Liberia to give away 2,000 pairs of shoes -- that people of The Grove left behind on our Barefoot Sunday -- I called Dustin first. He said yes in a heartbeat. Last summer Dustin and nine others, spent two weeks sloshing down muddy trails on dirt-bikes, in the middle of rainy season, to give shoes away to people recovering from a devastating civil war. Share what you do best. <br /><br />Jack is an architect in Phoenix. Sometimes he draws churches. When I told Jack I was heading to Haiti with a team to rebuild a pastor’s house and church, after the earthquake, he said, “I’ll draw the building plans for you.” “Ah, that would be great Jack,” I answered, “but I’m sorry to say we don’t have money to pay an architect.” <br /><br />“No Palmer, I’m not asking to be paid, I want to make my drawings a gift to the people of Haiti,” Jack explained. But Jack didn’t want to draw the buildings in Phoenix, he said he needed to meet the Pastor and hear from his people. So Jack flew to Haiti with us and sat under tarps on Bellevue de Montagne listening to the dreams of a people hoping to put their country back together again. Now, with Jack’s drawings in hand, we start building their dreams this Christmas. Share what you do best. <br /><br />I think your life shines brightest when you are sharing what you do best. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Share Your Life</span></span><br />Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If any of you wants to be my follower… take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it.” 5 <br /><br />That’s the really hard one, sharing your life. But that’s the call of the Christ follower. He wants more than “belief,” more than a “decision.” He wants more than your money – sometimes giving money gets us off the hook -- or your things… He wants your life. <br /><br />On this side of the Atlantic, we are a blessed people. Like the man who built barns, we have a lot, we know a lot, we can do a lot. And when that’s the case, the God of the Bible says, Turn your blessing into a blessing for others. That’s how he said it Abraham, “I will bless you… and you will be a blessing… and all people on earth will be blessed through you.” 6 <br /><br />God said that to Abraham, now he says that to you… because one man cannot lift a house. <br /><br />Notes:<br />1. Jeffery Sachs The End of Poverty. New York. Penguin Press. 2005. <br />2. Bono, quoted by Scott Morrison (speech, Parliament, London, England, February 14, 2008). <br />3. Mark 2:1-12<br />4. Luke 12<br />5. Matthew 16:24-26 <br />6. Genesis 12:2-3Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-73956861273696287052011-10-06T16:04:00.000-07:002011-10-06T16:25:56.850-07:00THE MATATU'S FLIPPED<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ud7Zpipbjy4/To43P2eAaPI/AAAAAAAAAFs/sKYvFocfoOI/s1600/6a00d83451e1f069e20105356ff599970b-800wi.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ud7Zpipbjy4/To43P2eAaPI/AAAAAAAAAFs/sKYvFocfoOI/s200/6a00d83451e1f069e20105356ff599970b-800wi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660522527110228210" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">This article was originally published in <a href="http://www.catalystspace.com/content/read/AUG11--the_matatus_flipped/">CATALYSTSPACE</a> Aug. 11, 2011 <br />by Palmer Chinchen </span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">“I DON'T WANT TO MISS MY FLIGHT</span>.”<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br /><br /> If I’m honest, that was my very first thought when I watched the matatu (Kenyan passenger minivan) crammed with seventeen or eighteen people get hit, flip, and roll onto its roof, which collapsed.<br /><br />Sociologists call it the phenomenon of noninvolvement. Researchers have found that bystanders often have this odd tendency not to respond to someone in dire need. Sometimes it’s out of fear, sometimes it’s simply stage fright—the worst is when people do nothing because they think it’s somebody else’s problem.<br /><br />We can spend a lifetime living that way.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">“WHAT YOU DO MATTERS.”<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span><br /><br />When I saw the matatu flip, that was my second thought: Palmer, you keep telling people that what they do matters!<br /><br />Too often we think what we do or how we live doesn’t matter. We think it doesn’t matter when we spend $348 on True Religion designer jeans. We think it doesn’t matter when a church in Dallas is spending 115 million dollars on their new building.<br /><br />It matters…<br /><br />…because the way you live every day is a picture of your soul.<br /><br />So I urgently yelled to my Nairobi taxi driver, “Stop!”<br /><br />He jumped out with me and ran to the crumpled van and began easing people over the shattered glass. Within just a few minutes everyone was out, and miraculously no one appeared seriously injured.<br /><br />Just when I started to think, “Bravo, Palmer—see, good thing you stopped,” my driver shouted, “They’re killing the other driver!” I spun around to see an angry mob stoning and beating the driver who had hit the matatu … to death.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">“<span style="font-style:italic;">SOMETIMES YOU MUST ACT in order to stop the very worst things from happening</span>.”<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br /><br />That was the heart of my message in twenty-three cities last fall, when I was the speaker on the Hungry for Love tour with Sanctus Real, Leeland, and The Afters. “You must act!” We keep thinking somebody else will, but Christ left this work of the kingdom to you!<br /><br />There’s two lives to be lived. One is the life you live every day. The life that many times ends up becoming a tired rut sapping you of every last ounce of creative passion. But then there’s the life you dream of living. That’s the second life. For many it’s the life-unlived.<br /><br />So I write this today to inspire you, to challenge you to abandon your comfortable routine and discover the exhilarating life God has waiting for you.<br /><br />Back to Kenya: Without thinking, I sprinted toward the mob. They call it mob justice in east Africa. But it’s not just; it’s sick vigilantism. I knew without a doubt they would kill him if I didn’t act.<br /><br />When the matatu flips, you must act.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">DISPASSION</span><br /><br />After visiting dozens of churches on the Hungry for Love Tour I came home discouraged. Generation-excess has moved into the suburban church.<br /><br />In one large church the pastor proudly stated, “We just spent a million dollars on this sound system!”<br /><br />I about choked. What in the world are we doing spending a million dollars on a sound system? And why do so many churches need I-Mag (Image Magnification). That’s the awesome technology that projects a really big picture of your preacher on a screen.<br /><br />Here’s the simple truth we miss: just because we can … doesn’t mean we should.<br /><br />I say all this because the church’s focus must turn out. We’ve focus far too much of our effort and resource inward.<br /><br />How will we ever rebuild countries like Haiti, or stop the spread of malaria in Africa, or free girls from sex-slavery in Thailand if we keep building kingdoms on street corners in the suburbs – instead of taking the Kingdom of God to the world.<br /><br />The matatu’s flipped.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">ONE LIFE MATTERS<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span><br /><br />Forcing my way to the middle of the raging mob, I dropped to my hands and knees over the man’s head, thinking, At least they’ll have to hit me first.<br /><br />“Stop, stop! Please stop!” I yelled.<br /><br />“Get out of the way—we want to kill him!” the angry young men shouted back.<br /><br />“No,” I answered loudly but calmly as I looked up. “Nobody’s going to die here today.”<br /><br />As they slowly dropped their stones and backed away, I helped the beaten man sit up, then carefully pulled him to his feet and brought him to the rear bumper of his van, where we sat until the mob was gone.<br /><br />What I’m not saying is that Palmer Chinchen is a hero. I’m not. I simply try to live the way I tell others that Jesus told us to live—like your life matters. What you do matters.<br /><br />So let’s stop being so self-indulgent and stop growing inwardly focused churches, and realize that God can use your life—your church—to change what is messed up out there.<br /><br />You see, if I wait, if I don’t act—if you wait, if you don’t act—the man on the side of the road dies … literally.Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-8642327289745937342011-08-08T14:25:00.000-07:002011-08-08T14:35:13.288-07:00GENERATION JUSTICE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0vd4h44KrY4/TkBUsplYwQI/AAAAAAAAAFY/bfgVhm-TFXs/s1600/next%2Bwave.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:centert;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 79px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0vd4h44KrY4/TkBUsplYwQI/AAAAAAAAAFY/bfgVhm-TFXs/s320/next%2Bwave.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638599859521503490" /></a>
<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">This article was originally published in</span> <a href="http://www.the-next-wave.info/2011/07/generation-justice-by-palmer-chinchen/">NEXT-WAVE</a><span style="font-style:italic;">, July 18, 2011.</span>
<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">by Palmer Chinchen</span>
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<br />I have a name for this generation.
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<br />No one’s been quite sure what to call the emerging generation. Some call them the Millennials, or Generation Next (that’s makes no sense, every generation is the next), Generation Y, Generation 13, Generation I, Generation Digital Natives… but none of these labels say what this generation is most about… Justice. They are. And that’s why we need to start calling this generation of 18 to 28 year-olds by a new name, Generation Justice.
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<br />I know this is true because I’ve watched how they live. They are most about pursuing justice for the marginalized and being a voice for the silenced and oppressed. They want to repair this world and make it beautiful like Eden. They live out the mercy of God.
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<br />The contrast to prior generations is striking. I went through college with the Yuppie Generation. We were a self-indulgent lot. Everyone wanted to drive a Beemer, wearing a Member’s Only jacket — with the collar popped on their pastel Izod.
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<br />Not this generation. They wear Tom’s shoes because Tom puts shoes on bare feet in places like Bolivia. They’ve made scooters cool again because you can ride a hundred miles on a gallon of gas. They embrace simplicity because they want to share more with people who have less. That’s the heartbeat of Generation Justice.
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<br />I say that with confidence because of twenty-something year-olds like Jennifer Preyss. Jennifer is a young, energetic reporter for the Victoria Advocate; Texas’ oldest newspaper. Last year Jennifer traveled to Malawi, Africa and spent several weeks loving and caring for orphans.
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<br />In October — still bothered by the extreme poverty and the lack of simple basic needs like shoes — Jennifer read about The Grove’s Barefoot Sunday. She was captivated, compelled, and certain God wanted her to hold a Barefoot Sunday in Victoria, Texas — then send the shoes to children in Malawi. Jennifer says she “stalked” me on Facebook until I answered. Her urgent plea read something like, “Palmer, I want to hold a Barefoot Sunday for the entire city of Victoria! Can you help me?”
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<br />It sounded audacious. I told her I would do my best. But her plans seemed lofty, and South Texas was a long way from Chandler, Arizona. I was a skeptic.
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<br />Jennifer kept working. Her passion was infectious. Three more reporters in their early twenties joined her cause. A date was set, February 27th. A goal was established, 1,000 pairs of shoes.
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<br />When I showed up in Victoria, the night of their Barefoot Sunday, I saw how Jennifer had inspired a city. She and her team had rallied participation from 20 churches, 4 schools, 2 colleges, and a Synagogue. An entire class of second graders insisted on going barefoot when they took their shoes off for Africa. The reporters drove around the city picking up piles of shoes in newspaper delivery trucks… after their deliveries.
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<br />On Barefoot Sunday Jennifer ended up with a mountain of more than 5,000 pairs of shoes to send to Africa.
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<br />Right now Generation Justice is flooding the U.S. Government office for Nonprofits with applications. Their aim is not to grow massive aid or charity organizations. They are far more organic than that. They are simply living their passions. They are responding to the needs of desperate people that grip their heart. A recent report on volunteering in America reveals that this generation has fueled a national spike in volunteers, “Led by teens and young adults accounting for almost half the increase, about a million more people volunteered last year.”1
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<br />Every time I visit my son at college I’m reminded of the pervasive mercy spirit of Generation Justice. The walls of every hallway are littered with posters promoting the students’ causes. Students recently held a Live on a dollar a day week. They erected cardboard shacks in the middle of campus and slept there for a week to champion the need to end extreme poverty. The last time I was there it was Barefoot Friday, because students were giving their shoes away. A sophomore named Christian has founded Beacon of Light. On Wednesdays at 5 o’clock her student volunteers crowd into her cramped dormitory kitchen to make piles of pb&j sandwiches. Then load into cars, drive downtown, and give the sandwiches away to men and women who live hungry on the streets of San Diego.
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<br />Something very spiritual is happening.
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<br />Generation Justice has taken to heart Jesus’ kingdom-cry to feed the hungry, give clean water to the thirsty, put clothes on the naked (and shoes on the barefeet), and care for the sick — and end the pandemics.
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<br />Salad Days
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<br />Developmental psychologists refer to these years (18-28) as the critical years. Because The most important things we do with our lives are often determined by the choices we make, the values we form, the decisions we follow, the affections we develop, the allegiances we create during the critical years.
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<br />Shakespeare, Saturday Night Live writers, and Wheaton College students call them the Salad Days. These are the best days; the days in which we grow and flourish and thrive.
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<br />In the critical years you hold life by the tail. The world is yours for the taking. The doors are all open. You may live in any city you choose. You can take any career path you like. You can marry whoever you like… well, not really – but you get my point.
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<br />So much of who we you are is defined in those few developmentally important years. Think about your parents for a moment and the music they listen to. I can bet cash money it’s not Lil-Wayne or Usher. Your mom is still playing her Michael Bolton cassettes and your dad’s waiting for Kiss’s reunion tour.
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<br />In her seminal work on this formative life-stage, The Critical Years, Sharon Parks writes about the motion of faith. She argues that this period is a unique and identifiable developmental stage. Parks writes, “A Central strength of the young adult is the capacity to respond to visions of the world as it might become. This is the time in every generation for renewal of the human vision.”2
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<br />While at Harvard, Lawrence Kohlberg (considered the preeminent thinker on moral development) once taught a course on moral choice. Ethicists, who studied the effect the course had on students moral reasoning, reported that these young adults sense “a deep obligation to relieve human misery and suffering if possible.”3
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<br />This is why Jason Russel, Bobby Bailey, and Laren Poole founded Invisible Children. These three aspiring film-makers, in their early twenties, traveled to northern Uganda because they were disturbed by the atrocities taking place in Dufar, Sudan.
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<br />While looking for a way across the border they found themselves in the middle of a human tragedy. Thousands of children who feared being abducted by Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), to fight as child soldiers, were walking miles and miles every night from their rural villages to seek refuge in the towns of Gulu and Lira. The concrete floors of bus depots and hospital basements became their beds.
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<br />The three friends couldn’t believe what they were witnessing; literally, a flood of children filling the towns every night. Why hadn’t anyone told them? Why was the world silent?
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<br />They began to film the atrocity, produced a documentary, founded an organization, met with government officials, and called the world’s attention to the tragedy in northern Uganda. People, churches, schools, and governments have responded. The tide has turned. Kony is on the run. Children near Gulu are again sleeping in their own beds at night.
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<br />Do you see why I say it’s Generation Justice that is leading the charge to rescue children in places like Uganda — places like hell on earth?
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<br />The Rest of the Gospel
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<br />From my vantage, the Americanized version of the gospel is incomplete. We’ve focused our attention on an intellectual relationship with God, and for the most part we’ve neglected his call to live out this gospel of the kingdom – show mercy, pursue justice, love the marginalized, and free the oppressed.
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<br />I fully realize that it is good and necessary to have a mind after God. I have a PhD, I get it. But simply knowing your systematic theology doesn’t do it. Jesus flat out told the Pharisees they had no clothes. He was fed up with their pseudo-religious intellectual piety.
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<br />I think it’s the trophy hunters in Africa that got me.
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<br />I’ve spent about half my life in Africa and I can’t tell you how disenchanted I’ve become with the trophy hunting preachers. They come from churches and mission organizations to preach in villages and ask for a raising of the hands. Then they return to their country exclaiming a count of how many souls were saved.
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<br />Really?
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<br />They’ve missed it. They’ve missed the rest of the gospel! They miss the part when Jesus says, “care for them, feed them, love them, free them.” They never ask about the babies dying of malaria, why the stomachs of the malnourished swell, or who will care for the toddlers orphaned by aids.
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<br />They came to take a trophy, not to bring a kingdom.
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<br />But Generation Justice has heard the cry of the ancients like Micah and Amos and Isaiah, and they’ve started to live out the words of Jesus.
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<br />And they have begun to bring Christ’s kingdom to earth, just as it is in heaven.
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<br />That’s why as I type this sentence, eighteen year-old Allie Cestmat is in Malawi going village to village, with our team from The Grove, putting 8,000 pairs of shoes — from places like Victoria — on bare feet in Africa.
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<br />Citations:
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<br />1. Mark Hrywna, Young Adults Fueled Spike in Volunteers. Non Profit Times, July 29, 2009. Accessed at http://calservenetwork.blogspot.com/2009/07/young-adults-fueled-spike-in-volunteers.html
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<br />2. Sharon Parks, The Critical Years (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1986), 30.
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<br />3. Carol Gilligan, Moral Development: In the Modern American College. (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1981), 139, as quoted in Parks, 105.Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-5784937644350849842011-07-14T16:18:00.001-07:002011-07-14T16:55:56.677-07:00ALL-STAR SHAME<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BqobMgz08DE/Th-AgooEZRI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/bYff2C-A5yE/s1600/huffpost.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 79px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BqobMgz08DE/Th-AgooEZRI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/bYff2C-A5yE/s400/huffpost.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629359357386056978" /></a><br />(This article was first featured on the front page of the <a href=" http://www.huffingtonpost.com/authorarchive/?palmer-chinchen/2011/07/ ">HuffPost</a> on 7/11/11)<br />By: Palmer Chinchen, PhD<br /><br />It’s all about shame. <br /><br />That’s the motivation behind the Maricopa County (Phoenix, Arizona) Sheriff announcing that he will assign his chain-gang to weed duty outside Chase Field during the 2011 All-Star Game. <br /><br />You read correctly, his chain-gang. <br /><br />The first time I passed the sheriff’s chain-gang, when I moved to Arizona, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Women in prison-striped uniforms hoeing weeds … chained at the ankles, with shotgun-toting deputies standing watch. I was shocked. It looked like a scene from 1950s rural America. <br /><br />My soul ached to the gut. Yes, these women may have committed crimes that deserve incarceration—but not this dehumanizing humiliation. I hurt for them. I wanted to cry for them. My thought was, “Palmer, you must do something …” So I hung a U and got out. I approached the deputy and asked if he would give a message to the sheriff. He listened patiently as I said, “Please tell your sheriff that in Chandler, we do not want women humiliated. In Chandler, we believe that every person should be treated with dignity and respect. In Chandler, we want this practice stopped.” He was kind enough to say he would pass my message along.<br /><br />Starting with the opening pages of Genesis the Bible explains that all people inherently carry the Imago Dei (Latin for, Image of God). “So God created human being in his own image, in the image of God he created them” (Gen. 1:27). Because of this central theological truth every person has great value and dignity. <br /><br />I think this is one of the reasons Jesus stopped the mob of men from stoning the adulterous woman, this is why he insisted the woman “famous for her sins,” be allowed to come near to him. This is why he focused much of his attention on the lame, the outcaste, the least, the sinners, the marginalized, and the despised. And this is why he insisted that those in his kingdom care for prisoners (Matt. 25:36). <br /><br />You see, all human beings have great worth. Regardless of race, gender, ability, wealth, religion, or nationality, all people deserve dignity and respect. This is not simply a Christian theological argument, this is a moral position. To publicly humiliate and shame anyone is immoral and unjust. It’s wrong at every level. <br /><br />Who among us would stand idly by while a person maliciously scarred da Vinci’s Mona Lisa with graffiti? We would scream NO! Stop!—we would take action because this painting is deemed beautiful and priceless. How much more beautiful and priceless is the life of a woman—even one in chains!<br /><br />Why are we silent?<br /><br />Maybe our silence is the greatest crime here. <br /><br /><br />It’s time to speak up. Like the prophets of the Old Testament, you and I are called to be a voice for the silenced; yes, even the ones in chains. <br /><br />The King of wisdom Solomon writes, “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all” (Prov. 31:8) He says, “Because we are precious in his sight” (Psalms 72:14). Then Solomon writes theses stinging words, “Don’t hesitate to step in and help. If you say, ‘Hey, that’s none of my business,’ will that get you off the hook? Someone is watching you closely, you know – someone not impressed with weak excuses” (Prov. 24:11-12 msg).<br /><br />We point back in history, to another continent, and chivalrously boast, “I would not have been silent when that happened to millions of prisoners.”<br /><br />Then why are we silent today?<br /><br />We wait for our local or state or even federal government to do something while we say nothing. <br /><br />Last week it was 117 degrees here in Phoenix. Our sheriff finds some twisted pleasure in keeping his inmates in stifling, unairconditioned tents. The women said it was cooler outside than in their tents. I don’t leave my dog outside this time of year, literally. But we said nothing. <br /><br />He shames men by dressing them in pink underwear and pink slippers and we say nothing. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oNgr67xpF4c/Th96xIkpDeI/AAAAAAAAAE4/1fV4uK9KwtI/s1600/s-ALL-STAR-GAME-CHAIN-GANG-small.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 112px; height: 82px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oNgr67xpF4c/Th96xIkpDeI/AAAAAAAAAE4/1fV4uK9KwtI/s320/s-ALL-STAR-GAME-CHAIN-GANG-small.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629353043769757154" /></a>If you are on your way to the All-Star Game, would you stop and say something? Would you tell the women in striped jumpsuits and chained at the ankles that we are sorry, and they are beautiful. And tell them they are loved, if by no one else, by God himself. Then give them a bottle of cold water or a ballpark frank -- and give them dignity. <br /><br />The women in the tents say it’s so hot at night they can’t sleep. God can’t sleep. I hope you can’t either. <br /><br />It’s a sham and a shame, an All-Star shame.Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-32881897084642107642011-06-03T09:11:00.000-07:002011-06-03T09:28:53.513-07:00GOD CAN'T SLEEP<iframe width="475" height="280" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-KApC0VekPY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-61348435813348424122011-03-07T14:43:00.001-08:002011-03-07T15:00:01.465-08:005,000 & COUNTING<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MFKXXqXQkbU/TXVhIZCxQNI/AAAAAAAAAEc/OdCNWpGKOiw/s1600/TX%2Bbarefoot2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 251px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MFKXXqXQkbU/TXVhIZCxQNI/AAAAAAAAAEc/OdCNWpGKOiw/s320/TX%2Bbarefoot2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581474109984948434" /></a><br />I keep trying to tell people that their one life matters. You matter. How you live, what you do matters. If you’re not convinced, let me tell you about Jennifer. <br /><br />Jennifer Preyss (pronounced Price) is a young, energetic reporter for the Victoria Advocate; Texas’ oldest newspaper. Last year Jennifer traveled to Malawi, Africa and spent several weeks serving with Children of the Nations (COTN), loving and caring for orphans. <br /><br />In October -- still bothered by the extreme poverty, the lack of simple basic needs like shoes -- Jennifer read about The Grove’s Barefoot Sunday. She was captivated, compelled, and certain God wanted her to hold a Barefoot Sunday in Victoria, Texas and send the shoes to children in Malawi. <br /><br />Jennifer says she “stalked” me on Facebook until I answered. Her urgent plea read something like, “Palmer, I want to hold a Barefoot Sunday for the entire city of Victoria! Can you help me?”<br /><br />It sounded audacious. I told her I would do my best. But her plans seemed lofty, and South Texas was a long way from Chandler, Arizona. I was a skeptic. <br /><br />Jennifer kept working. Her passion was infectious. Four more reporters joined her cause. A date was set, February 27th. A goal was established, 1,000 pairs of shoes. <br /><br />On Victoria’s Barefoot Sunday I preached three services at The Grove, then hurried to the airport with Dan Angermiller. Dan returned from Malawi with a similar passion to Jennifer’s, and founded Lightfeet Project; his efforts to collect shoes for Africa and Haiti. <br /><br />We landed in Houston and our good driver Erica kept her foot to the floor trying to get us to Victoria by 6:30. When Dan and I walked through the doors of Renegade, the appropriate name of the church hosting the event, Pastor Bard met us with a giant Texas smile, handed me a wireless mic and said, “Ok Palmer, you’re up, this is the bands last song.” <br /><br />That night I saw how Jennifer had inspired an entire city. She and her team had rallied participation from 20 churches, 4 schools, 2 colleges, and a Synagogue.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J1DmZTeBE_8/TXVgtFPyGWI/AAAAAAAAAEU/dzNnHxpMg5k/s1600/BFS%2B2n%2Bgrd.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J1DmZTeBE_8/TXVgtFPyGWI/AAAAAAAAAEU/dzNnHxpMg5k/s320/BFS%2B2n%2Bgrd.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581473640814352738" /></a>An entire class of second graders insisted on going barefoot the whole day, when they took off their shoes to send to Africa. A high school junior, Keaton Warren, said, “What good are shoes without socks?” So he started his own sock drive. More than 2,000 pairs of socks came in on Barefoot Sunday. And I loved this, when shoes piled up all over the city, the Advocate newspaper sent their truck out to do shoe pick-ups -- after their newspaper deliveries. <br /><br />When I spoke that night I had the privilege of applauding the efforts of everyone in Victoria. I told them about the places their shoes would go, like Liberia, Malawi, and Haiti. I told them how valuable one pair of shoes is to an African orphan. I told them how a pair of shoes moves a barefoot high school student in Africa from going to school full of shame, to walking to school full of dignity. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8mT95_-CqWo/TXVgKJ2DLSI/AAAAAAAAAEM/WMmUWqZfsn4/s1600/BFS%2BTX.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8mT95_-CqWo/TXVgKJ2DLSI/AAAAAAAAAEM/WMmUWqZfsn4/s320/BFS%2BTX.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581473040753175842" /></a>After the closing Barefoot Sunday event, as we surveyed the mountain of shoes, Jennifer gave us a count… “We’ve blown past our goal, Palmer, you’re looking at 4,700 pairs of shoes!” <br /><br />Do you see why I say one life, like Jennifer’s, really can make a difference?<br /><br />The next morning the shoe count jumped past 5,000… and counting.Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-76896447782580765962010-12-15T08:09:00.000-08:002010-12-15T08:09:32.467-08:00Sanctus Real :: Feed-blog<a href="http://www.sanctusreal.com/sanctus-real/c/feed-blog">Sanctus Real :: Feed-blog</a>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-67531167322613483062010-11-13T07:31:00.000-08:002010-11-13T07:34:02.756-08:00David C Cook Announces Winner of the True Religion Missions Trip Scholarship<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/TN6vo5rkKmI/AAAAAAAAAD8/XSEPBDtfc8M/s1600/image001.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 145px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/TN6vo5rkKmI/AAAAAAAAAD8/XSEPBDtfc8M/s320/image001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539057708925463138" /></a><br />Megan Boudreaux from New Orleans, LA, has been selected as the winner of the True Religion Missions Trip Scholarship. Palmer Chinchen, author of True Religion, and David C Cook, publisher of True Religion, sponsored the $1000 scholarship that was awarded to Megan on November 8, 2010. The award will be applied to a mission trip Megan will be taking to Haiti with Hope for Haiti on December 5-10, 2010.<br /> <br />Megan, a native of Lafayette, LA, believes God placed so much compassion and love in her heart at the age of seven when her father passed away. Megan is a graduate of Tulane University and has been on many mission trips including Honduras, Uganda, Ukraine, Mexico, and Haiti. Megan has worked in Haiti and planned medical mission trips for a hospital in Baton Rouge. Megan’s first impression of Haiti was, “It was unlike ANYTHING I had ever seen before. I knew I had been blessed with a burden for orphans and children.” After spending time in Haiti and having the privilege of loving these children and seeing Jesus in these orphans’ beautiful eyes, Megan knew that Haiti is where God wants her to be. As Megan says, “I’ve been forever changed by the children of Haiti.”<br /> <br />You can learn more about Megan and her work in Haiti on her blog at http://blessedwithaburden.wordpress.com.<br /> <br />About True Religion by Palmer Chinchen: True Religion: Taking Pieces of Heaven to Places of Hell on Earth examines the idea of living a life sacrificially poured out for Christ. Chinchen believes that those who are willing to give their lives away to change the world will find their own lives changed forever through that process. He challenges believers to love the Lord with all their mind and soul, with all their strength and heart, and as this love is poured into the work of Christ, believers will experience God moving them in a unique direction that will carry them into new and exciting areas of service. For more information, visit: www.truereligion.com.<br /> <br />Headquartered in Colorado Springs, Co, with offices in Elgin, Illinois, Paris, Ontario, Canada, and Eastbourne, UK, David C Cook resources are published in over 150 languages, distributed in more than 80 countries, and sold worldwide. For more information, visit www.davidccook.com.<br /> <br />Audra Jennings<br />Senior Media Specialist<br />The B&B Media GroupPalmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-13587242832569906432010-09-24T07:16:00.000-07:002010-09-24T07:28:09.004-07:00AMERICAN JESUSWhen I was in college a friend named Bob, at Cal Baptist Univ., flew to Liberia for the summer. He was 6’6”, a Rock Stark basketball player, had hair down to his shoulders, and a beard… the Liberians immediately dubbed him American Jesus. Everywhere Bob traveled that summer playing basketball the crowd chanted the same thing, American Jesus. <br /><br />I was flying back from Virginia last week, reading Michael Frost’s Untamed, when this line jumped off the page, “If Jesus came back to earth and walked into an American church… I think he would be pretty surprised.” <br /><br />The statement has made me think much about the American church and the things we value. Strangely, we are about a lot of things that Jesus was never about. <br /><br />Then this somewhat amusing thought hit me… what would Jesus be like if he really was like many American Christians? <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">American Jesus has a lot of nice things:</span></span><br />And that’s pretty true. American Jesus wouldn’t mind materialism. He likes a good cause but at the same time he makes sure his garage and back yard and side yard and closets have nice things, a lot of nice things. That’s how Jesus would live if he really was an American, but he does give 2%.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">American Jesus is mildly devoted to his cause:</span></span><br />Don’t get me wrong, American Jesus likes God. He likes the church. He likes sunny Sunday mornings and lunch out after church with his family. It’s all a very pleasant experience. And the hope is, he can put in his time on Sunday and have the rest of the week to pursue what he’s really passionate about… a promotion at work, respect in the community, a new car, golf, shopping, and vacations in California. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">American Jesus likes I-Mag:</span></span><br />If your church in America is serious about God, you better order an I-Mag projector. Because right now every church that’s worth beans has I-Mag. I-Mag is short for “Image Magnification.” With a couple of cameras in the back of the room, an image of the person on stage is projected onto the big screen… 5 or 10 times their actual size. It used to be that only football coliseums and NBA arenas had I-Mag. But today, it seems that every church with more than 50 people has I-Mag, because American Jesus likes really big things. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">American Jesus is running for President: </span></span><br />I sense a message is being broadcast that if you are a true Christian in America, you will align with a particular political party; or at least Jesus would. We all seem to forget that when Jesus first came on the scene in the middle east, he said he was not here to run for office. But that was way back 2,000 years ago, I’m quite sure that today American Jesus would run for President. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">American Jesus boycotts Disneyland… but not Las Vegas:</span></span><br />American Jesus is mad about a lot of things, that’s why so many Christians spent so many years boycotting Disneyland; while they held conventions in Las Vegas. But here’s what a lot of people want to know, what is American Jesus for? We know what he’s against, but what is he most passionate about? What makes his heart beat fast? That’s what everyone wants to know. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">American Jesus looks caucasian:</span> </span><br />I’m not sure where the idea came from that Jesus would not look like he was from the middle east. Maybe it was the pictures of him we saw when we were kids. Because Jesus looked caucasian in the picture of him holding sheep, that hung in my Sunday School room; and that is what he looked like in the stained glass windows in the old sanctuary. Or maybe we think like that because we all have this idea that Jesus will look a lot like me. <br /> . . .<br /><br />The good news is, Jesus looks like God;<span style="font-style:italic;"> Jesus is not an American. </span><br /><br />And even better, the Bible says Jesus is for people from every country on every continent on this planet:<span style="font-style:italic;"> “And they sang a new song: ‘You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, because you were slain, and with your blood you purchased people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation.’" Rev. 5:9-10</span>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-56599543918950614082010-07-17T17:45:00.001-07:002010-07-17T17:49:35.904-07:00MEET MADDEN<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/TEJOyUVQzBI/AAAAAAAAADk/kAuttygc7wE/s1600/IMG_1410.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/TEJOyUVQzBI/AAAAAAAAADk/kAuttygc7wE/s320/IMG_1410.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495041121703742482" /></a>This is Madden. I’m guessing Madden is about six months old. I met Madden when I was walking through the Chimpampa village in Malawi with high schoolers from The Grove, going hut to hut distributing mosquito nets. Madden was sitting on his mothers lap, on a bamboo mat, in front of their mud hut. I thought Madden was awesome. <br /><br />Madden is why we keep giving away mosquito nets in Africa. You see, every 30 seconds a child in Africa dies of malaria. The net we left for Madden really might save his life. That’s the hope. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/TEJO8tZeB7I/AAAAAAAAADs/yyb3t7Sj-w8/s1600/Moses.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/TEJO8tZeB7I/AAAAAAAAADs/yyb3t7Sj-w8/s320/Moses.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495041300230965170" /></a>This is Moses. I’ve known Moses for quite a few years. I ran into Moses when we were back in Malawi last month, it was really good to see an old friend. But Moses’ story is quite a bit different from Madden’s. Moses is why I first started asking people at The Grove to give nets away in Malawi. Moses had baby twin daughters, about Madden’s age. They both contracted malaria. And before he could tell me or anyone else who could help… they died. I didn’t even know they were sick until Moses asked me if I could help pay for their coffins. <br /><br />Every time I return to Malawi I give Moses a hand full of mosquito nets -- even though it feels WAY too late -- I know he has three more children who need the nets. I really wish I had nets to give away when Moses’ tiny girls needed them. <br /><br />But it’s not too late for Madden, and all the other toddlers in Malawi. That’s the hope. That’s why we keep giving away nets in Africa.Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-46360328075756819262010-07-03T19:04:00.000-07:002010-07-03T19:21:20.936-07:00LOVE IS BETTER THAN WARI spent the last two weeks bouncing and sloshing across Liberia's rugged roads, with our team of 29 from The Grove, to four of the country's largest cities, Yekepa, Ganta, Buchannan, and Monrovia. The message we carried, the message I preached was LOVE IS BETTER THAN WAR. <br /><br />War messed up Liberia for 15 years and everyone in Liberia is ready for something better, something new: that's why we carried the message that the love of Jesus Christ is so much better than the bitterness of war. <br /><br />I spent my second day in Liberia in Karnpleh, a town near the Ivorian boarder. Karnpleh is where the war started. Karnpleh is where Charles Taylor recruited his first boy soldiers. So Karnpleh was the town we chose to start THE LOVE LIBERIA PROJECT, and it was in Karnpleh that we began telling all Liberians why Love is Better than War. <br /><br />Hit play and let Scott Erickson tell you about our day in Karmpleh: <br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/j_STXFykuvk&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/j_STXFykuvk&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-51396253353910852542010-06-18T07:25:00.000-07:002010-06-18T07:31:25.056-07:007 DAYS IN MALAWIAfter a week in Malawi with The Grove’s team of 63 people, I just flew up to Kenya to meet up with our other Grove team that is headed to Liberia. As we waited for our connecting flight one of them asked me, “What are some highlights from your week in Malawi?” I love that question. I’ll share a few highlights with you:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Watching a new tin roof replace a widow’s dilapidated thatched roof was a highlight. <span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span> When I showed up with our construction team to look at one of the widow’s huts that needed a new roof, even I was surprised at the condition of the roof. A few pieces of tattered plastic and a thin layer of thatch was supposed to keep out the rain… but it was full of holes. The guys took turns going inside because they couldn’t believe how much sunlight was coming through the gaping holes. <br /><br />The next morning we returned with a pick-up full of lumber and tin. By that afternoon the small mud hut had a shiny new roof over the heads of a widow and her seven children. That was a highlight. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Pulling bright new colored t-shirts over the heads of 300 village kids was a highlight<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span>. Just before leaving for Africa, The Grove’s t-shirt printer had a fortunate misprint… he had misprinted hundreds shirts and didn’t know what he was going to do with them. I told him, “Let me buy them off you really cheap, and we’ll give them away in Malawi.” He was glad for the offer. So Saturday, when our team held a VBS for hundreds of children in the Chimpampa village, the kids showed up in the one outfit they owned: ragged, torn, dingy shirts, shorts, and dress. It was so fun to watch the expressions on their faces when our team began to pull bright purple, yellow, blue, and red t-shirts on every kid. The dusty village filled with color. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Hearing the stories of our people was a highlight. <span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span> Every night, for a week, when we came together for dinner I got to hear the compelling stories of our people’s day. One young mother bubbled, “My afternoon with the high-school girls playing net-ball (a Malawian version of basketball only played by women) was the best experience of my life.” Another said, “When we showed up to paint the orphan girls’ bedrooms, we didn’t expect them to help, but they all came in and painted with us. It was the best day ever.” Three ran up to me one evening and exclaimed, “We spent the day taking mini-busses (public transportation) around Lilongwe buying 500 new plates and cups and spoons for all the kids in the feeding program… and together we are sponsoring three children from one family so they can eat every day too!” <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Watching our women give giant bags of maize to widows was a highlight.</span> One of our teams is spending their two weeks loving widows whose husbands have died of AIDS. Veronica and the team brought with them from America gifts like dresses and shoes. But on Friday they bought a bag of maize for each widow. A bag of maize doesn’t cost much to us, but it will feed one family for two to three months. It’s the Malawian staple. Without maize people die in Malawi, literally. Watching women from The Grove pull huge bags of life-giving maize through the doors of small mud huts was a beautiful highlight. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Having my twelve-year-old son ask if can give his shoes away was a highlight.<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span> In all the years I’ve been doing short-term trips to Africa, this was the first time my sons have been able to go with me. It was good. It was especially good when my twelve-year-old whispered to me, as we loaded up the van after our first day in the Chimpampa village where practically every child goes barefoot, “Dad, I brought two pairs of shoes with me, can I give one away before we leave?” I love it. He’s heard his dad’s passion, but now his heart is bothered. That was a great highlight.Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-29639676977251908352010-06-13T12:32:00.000-07:002010-06-13T13:02:28.121-07:00ONE ROOF AT A TIME<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyQLLqVomqYc0Ts-46R-oyA7IH9aaMz4dmNtFpTM1zPZKnV1BuQn3cgiH6fDUlfWvZF5hvFlzHRMgdBK2xJuQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-31427296301628257722010-05-13T16:05:00.000-07:002010-05-13T16:17:52.777-07:00I JUST WANT TO SAY THANK-YOU<span style="font-style:italic;"></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/S-yGuSljdBI/AAAAAAAAADU/lbOjv6ZSb_o/s1600/167.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/S-yGuSljdBI/AAAAAAAAADU/lbOjv6ZSb_o/s320/167.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470895777169765394" /></a> <br />Wow. <br /> <br />I am so humbled and impressed by the heart of everyone at The Grove. <br /> <br /><br />This past Sunday, Mother's Day, is a Sunday I'll never forget. <br /> <br />If you were present, you already know that at the end of each service we invited people to walk up on stage on Mother's Day and take home the picture of a child who had no mother, and sponsor them; kids from Haiti, Liberia, and Malawi. <br /> <br />We hung a hundred profiles over the stage. We had received 132 profiles but I thought if we had 100 kids sponsored in one day, that would be amazing; and to be honest I wasn't quite sure 132 kids could be sponsored in one day, so we left 32 kids in a box... plus we ran out of room on our wire clothes lines. <br /> <br />At the close of the 8:00 service 28 kids were taken home on Mother's Day. We were all thrilled. I was hopeful, I thought maybe by the end of the third service they might all find a home.<br /> <br />But when we invited people up during the 9:30 service the stage was flooded. It seemed like every family present came to take a child home. When the stage cleared 70 more kids were sponsored! Just 2 profiles sill hung... they looked lonely.<br /> <br />Eric must have thought the same thing, because he ran down the aisle from the back row, jumped on stage, and grabbed the last two. <br /> <br />I loved the applause. <br /> <br />Fortunately (due to my lack of faith!) we still had 32 profiles left to hang for the third service. Those were gone in a heartbeat. <br /> <br />Thank you. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. <br /> <br />Thank you for the sacrifice you will make every month to help feed these kids. <br /> <br />Thank you for loving a child on Mother's Day who has no mother. <br /> <br />Jesus' brother James said, "True Religion is to love widows and orphans." Thank you for living that way. Your religion really is true. <br /> <br />Grateful,<br />PalmerPalmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-75080747550655788352010-05-10T12:32:00.001-07:002010-05-10T12:38:51.078-07:00I'M SICKI’m sick. <br /><br />I’ve just finished reading a New York Times article on the tragic murders of an albino mother and her five-year-old son in Burundi, who were killed by witch-doctors for their body parts. (New York Times, May 8, 2010, Burundi: Albino Mother and Son Are Killed.)<br /><br />This is possibly the most senseless crime I have ever heard of.<br /><br />About ten years ago belief spread in East Africa that eating the body parts of an albino will bring fortune and success. So witch-doctors and medicine men began hunting albinos. Since 2007, 71 albinos have been killed in Tanzania alone. Tens of thousands have gone into hiding. The entire notion is completely absurd – BUT IT’S NOT BEING STOPPED. <br /><br />Here in the United States we are rightfully angered when people are biased against because of the color of their skin. But if mothers and five-year-old boys are dying in Burundi because of their skin color shouldn’t we all be outraged. <br /><br />The killers must be brought to justice so that a message is sent loud and clear that no person anywhere will die because of the color of their skin.<br /><br />One small step forward I am taking is to write to the President of Burundi to offer to help, in whatever way needed, stop this atrocity. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">AN OPEN LETTER TO THE PRESIDENT OF BURUNDI, PIERRE NKURUNZIZA</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />Dear President Nkurunziza, <br /><br />I write to you with a sad heart, saddened by the tragic murder of a Burundian mother and her five-year-old son. <br /><br />I write to say these killers must be brought to justice. And I write to encourage you to pour every possible resource into protecting the lives of the marginalized albinos in Burundi. <br /><br />I know that you are a man of God. I know your heart is good. So I simply write to implore you to seek justice for the albinos of Burundi. <br /><br />I write on behalf of Christians everywhere to say, Please stop this senseless crime. I do not write to place blame or to judge, I write to encourage action. <br /><br />I also write to offer the resources of every Christian in my country who cares about justice. I write to offer means to help educate a population that killing albinos is the worst kind of crime, the most senseless of crimes. Albinos, like all of us, are created by God, in His image, and they are loved and prized by God – it’s just that their skin is a different color. And only sheer ignorance would cause anyone to believe that there is magic in their bones. <br /><br />I offer the recourses of every Christian in America who cares about justice to help shelter and protect the albinos of Burndi. <br /><br />I write to offer to partner with you to rescue those who’s very lives are threatened because of the color of their skin. <br /><br />May God’s great hand of blessing be on your life as you continue to lead with wisdom.<br /><br /><br />Respectfully,<br /><br />Dr. Palmer Chinchen</span>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-53533542600589981212010-04-29T16:36:00.000-07:002010-04-29T16:43:25.161-07:00TRUE RELIGION<object width="576" height="347"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/XkOTHTF2C7E&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/XkOTHTF2C7E&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="576" height="347"></embed></object>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-58744210319461238052010-04-09T23:04:00.000-07:002010-04-12T13:44:24.597-07:00TODAY IS NOT TOO SOONAs I write this sitting on a plane headed for Santo Domingo, I’m looking out the window watching the shadow of our 737 skim over the brilliant green water of the Caribbean, and reading a USA today article titled, “Too Soon for Service Trips to Haiti, Colleges Told.”<br /><br /> I’m on my way to Haiti. But our 737 packed with spring break college students leaving the U.S. to serve will go as far as the D.R.. The dozens and dozens of students on our flight will never make it to Haiti because they, like so many others, are being fed lines like, “Too soon for Service Trips to Haiti.” <br /><br />If today is too soon, then when will the day be right? What greater disaster must a nation suffer before the time is right? The article states that the C.I.D.I. (an ominous sounding acronym for the Center for International Disaster Information) is advising volunteers to “wait until conditions are better to serve... at least one year,” it suggests. <br /><br />What tragic irony. How will conditions ever get any better until people go and help make it better? <br /><br />The article implies that volunteers and college students will use “valuable resources” in Haiti that can be better used by someone else. That statement would be funny if it weren’t so sad. I’ll bet cash money the person who made this statement at the CIDI has never set foot in Haiti. Believe me, I’ve been there. Even in Port au Prince there’s enough bread and bananas and goat (yep, our last team had goat in Port au Prince) to feed college students.<br /> <br />This same kind of reasoning is what vexed me when buildings came crashing down in <br />January. It took five days of sitting and watching and assessing and evaluating before our government felt it was “safe” enough to allow earthquake rescue workers into Port au Prince to begin digging through the rubble for survivors. FIVE DAYS! I was sick. We should have had people there in five hours. Literally. <br /><br />Sean Penn is a stud. He’s in Haiti right now yelling for America to get down there and get people out of the mud and rain. He’s built a camp for 45,000 Haitians who have lost their homes. I caught him on CNN this week. He said, “Get down here or people will die!” He’s right. <br /><br />I hope you see what I’m saying, wherever or whatever the need, circumstances will never be perfect or perfectly safe. But go anyway. That’s when you’re needed most. <br /><br /><br />*To view Anderson Cooper's interview with Sean Penn click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-E_f5iph0Y">HERE</a>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-86190978886171015092010-03-13T07:51:00.000-08:002010-03-13T07:59:03.302-08:00ROSETTA'S TENTTen-year-old Deannzi greeted us with a bright smile as she stood in front of her broken home. She pointed us through the rubble to where we could find her Aunt. <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzkrMcP5hHhDGcxiX-jOs2AYPM5pAbpqOQeyM8SirjW7v-NfvWdy_1vAkt-LknM_h2G3Dd6Zs_rPaSWB9TzLw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />I told some of you that when I was in Port au Prince, just after the tragic earthquake, I met a young mother of three who was living under bed sheets, in front of her crumbled home, that sat collapsed on two of her family – turning their concrete home into to a rubble tomb. <br /><br />Her name is Rosetta. I’ve had a tough time forgetting about Rosetta. I don’t think life gets any worse than when you end up living on the dirt in front of your broken home full of sorrow. <br /><br />Late yesterday afternoon, as the hot Haitian sun went down and the air cooled I stopped to visit Rosetta with Tom and Matt and Rich. She’s still living on the dirt. I thought she might be and I knew that when the rains come her bed-sheet home will become a muddy pit, so I brought Rosetta a tent.<br /><br />As we put the tent together it looked small. Target labeled it a “6 man” tent – it’s not that big, I wished it was bigger. <br /><br />Rosetta smiled. She was gracious and grateful. <br /><br />I sure wished the tent was bigger.<br /><br />She said since the earthquake crumbled their home on January 12th no one from anywhere has stopped to give them anything. Deannzi’s father asked if we had another tent, they were living under bed-sheets too. We did, so we set up another tent for Deannzi’s family. As we finished putting up the tents Rosetta warmly thanked us again; I still wished the tent was bigger. <br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzzKpw3_Y9ISm3BNXzGRDh25drCZm6b-zupwv5RyYk2kps0bVPjxym0117gqo01_5ytsjCB4_KKjz92WsYfTQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />I guess I had wanted to do something bigger. The team of 19 from The Grove was a mile away building a new dorm for orphans; that felt big. The Grove is building a 12,000 sq. ft. gym for African Bible College in Liberia; that feels big. This bright green tent, dwarfed by slabs of broken concrete piled high behind it, looked small. <br /> <br />The lime green, “6-man” tent was the biggest one they had at Target, but I know I could have found a bigger one if I had just tried harder. I really wished I had looked harder for the biggest one I could buy. But I thought I was busy and didn’t have time. <br /><br />After we said goodbye to Rosette I told Tom I wished the tent was bigger. Tom said he thought the tent was good. He said, It’s better than the dirt that will turn to mud when the rains come, plus the brilliant green tent seemed to really brighten Rosetta’s day. <br /><br />He was right, it was good to see Rosetta smile. <br /><br />I guess I say all this to remind all of us – remind me – that sometimes the world’s trouble seem so daunting that we begin to believe that my effort will be too small to matter, what I do is “just a drop in the bucket.” So at times we choose to do nothing – rather than something small. <br /><br />Tom’s words reminded me that God has a way of using our small efforts too. Because isn’t it true that God uses one person to touch one life at a time.<br /><br />So maybe on some days it’s okay to do the small things that are good. <br /><br />Because on some days maybe God wants to sprinkle heaven just one drop at a time.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/S5u2E5u76MI/AAAAAAAAACU/Feu6FgbRRac/s1600-h/Rosetta_2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 307px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/S5u2E5u76MI/AAAAAAAAACU/Feu6FgbRRac/s320/Rosetta_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448148369568164034" /></a>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-74314689232138108762010-02-13T19:52:00.001-08:002010-02-15T12:03:29.890-08:00WAR IS NOT GOOD<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/S3d0IBclZiI/AAAAAAAAACE/N3vvZhMapBc/s1600-h/Grand+Devil.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/S3d0IBclZiI/AAAAAAAAACE/N3vvZhMapBc/s320/Grand+Devil.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437942756249265698" /></a><br />Neah is one of the African Bible College students I spent time with in Liberia this past week. During the civil war Neah escaped to Cote d’Ivoire to live as a refugee and complete high school at a school aptly named “Grukarsen” -- which means, “War is Not Good.” <br /><br />And it isn’t. <br /><br />This past week I experienced firsthand why war is not good. War is not good because it leaves soccer players with one leg. While meeting with pastors in Ganta to plan our summer Love Liberia Project, one of the things we talked about was soccer. Everyone seemed to have a different opinion about who the team from Arizona should play, where the match should be held, and how it should be promoted. When with sudden authority Russell spoke up. “Listen, I’m the football (soccer) player here and I know football in Ganta better than anyone. Let me plan the event.” That was it, everyone agreed the responsibility was best his, they all new Russell was Ganta’s soccer aficionado. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/S3d0IrWQtfI/AAAAAAAAACM/J65NqAjhydI/s1600-h/Russel+.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 280px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/S3d0IrWQtfI/AAAAAAAAACM/J65NqAjhydI/s320/Russel+.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437942767497033202" /></a>The painful irony, however, is that Russell has only one leg. A rebel bomb stole his other leg that let him run and score. <br /><br /><br />Do you see why I say war is not good?<br /><br />War is not good because young women are raped by angry men. Welcoming us to nearly every town and city on our 800 mile trek through Liberia was the same large, rusting metal sign with the blunt message STOP RAPE. During 15 years of civil war, rape became a preferred weapon of many fighters. Some say the young men forgot rape was a crime. Women across Liberia are still healing from the scars. War fills my heart with rage when I hear that beautiful women are raped. War is not good, war is tragic. <br /><br />War is not good because small boys attend school wearing nothing but blue flip-flops. We stopped in the remote, dusty town of Juarzon to make sure we were driving down the right jungle road when kids, on their way to school, gathered around the jeep to chat. Some wore blue and white uniforms. Some had on mismatched shirt and shorts. A few wore only the blue shorts with no shirt. But one small boy wore only blue flip-flops. He held a copy book in one hand and a grubby pencil in the other, but that was it. He wore no clothes. He smiled and waved as he went one his way. You see war has left Liberia poor. Some families remain to poor too buy their children clothes for school. <br /><br />That’s why war is not good. <br /><br />War is not good because the Grand Devil is dancing again. When we visited my childhood home, deep in the Sappo Rainforest, hundreds of Christians gathered to welcome my family back. But during my father’s speech, when he began to quote scripture, he was suddenly interrupted by beating drums – the Grand Devil was coming. It was Jesus versus Juju. <br /><br />In the jungle it has always been the juju of the witch doctors and Grand Devils verses the truth of Jesus Christ. But during the horrible years of civil war juju spread wildly. The Grand Devils promised rebel fighters and boy-soldiers magical protection from bullets if they would participate in their ceremonies and make a sacrifice – sometimes human. Liberia has always been a Christian nation but juju became the faith of war. <br /><br />And now, as the message of Jesus Christ is again being carried back to the cities and into the jungle, the Grand Devil is vexed. His power is threatened because Jesus is back. <br /><br />You see war and anger and tribal dissention has fractured Liberia. That’s why the church I lead, The Grove, is returning to Liberia this June to lead The Love Liberia Project. Our people will travel the country and spread the word that The Love of Jesus is good, so very good. It’s better than anger, it’s better than bitterness, it’s better than revenge, it’s better than war. <br /><br />War is not good.Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-66134108016176710092010-01-30T18:28:00.000-08:002010-01-30T18:34:54.842-08:00DÉSOLÉ<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/S2TsF42w2WI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7Q-nGXZT5LE/s1600-h/desoule.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/S2TsF42w2WI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7Q-nGXZT5LE/s320/desoule.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432726636421241186" /></a><br />While I was in Haiti this past week I said <span style="font-style:italic;">désolé</span> often. <br /><br />In French, <span style="font-style:italic;">désolé</span> means sorry. <br /><br />When I say <span style="font-style:italic;">I’m sorry</span> to people in America they look at me a little funny and say, “It wasn’t your fault.” But growing up in Africa <span style="font-style:italic;">sorry</span> said it all. When someone was hurt, when someone was melancholy you would simply say <span style="font-style:italic;">sorry</span>. <br /><br />To say sorry in Liberia is to say, I empathize -- I share your pain -- I hurt because you hurt – you do not hurt alone. <br /><br />Nobody should have to hurt alone. <br /><br />In Malawi when someone is in sorrow they are never left alone. When tragedy comes the furniture is taken out of the house so that people can come in. They come and sit on the floor. They sit for hours. No one says anything, your presence says everything, <span style="font-style:italic;">I’m sorry and you are not alone in your sorrow. </span><br /><br />I don’t think God meant for us to be alone when life really hurts, that’s why I said désolé so many times in Haiti. <br /><br />Our English word desolate comes from the French <span style="font-style:italic;">désolé</span>. Desolate is a heavy word, we use it when we are deserted, abandoned, alone, or absent of joy. Maybe its most weighted meaning is, <span style="font-style:italic;">devoid of comfort</span>. <br /><br />That’s why I said désolé in Haiti. I simply wanted the beautiful but hurting people I met to know they were not alone in their pain. <br /><br />As our team of doctors and nurses worked at field hospitals (literally on the grass in fields), at clinics, and at orphanages, I first wondered in what ways could I help? I’m a doctor – of philosophy – but that doesn’t help when someone needs a leg set or a wound dressed. <br /><br />But when I met the Haitian boy Kevin with the amputated leg, without thinking much, the word <span style="font-style:italic;">désolé</span> just came out. Haitians speak French (French Creole), he smiled and said, <span style="font-style:italic;">merci</span>. <br /><br />Across the dirt road from the orphanage where we delivered food sat a pile of broken concrete that used to be a two-story home. I walked over to see if anyone was in the bed-sheet tent in front of the pile of the rubble. A young woman in her twenties was living there. Her story hurt my heart. She and twenty other family members are sleeping in front of their crumbled home. Some sleep between the crevices in the slabs of concrete. Two of her family are still buried in the rubble. <br /><br />What do you say when you hear that? How much sorrow can one person take? The only words I really had were, <span style="font-style:italic;">“Je suis très désolé”</span> – I am so very sorry.<br /><br />Driving through Port-au-Prince a colorful Haitian bus pulled in front of us, in huge, bright letters were the words, <span style="font-style:italic;">Sorry My Friend.</span> The bus said it well. <span style="font-style:italic;">Désolé mon ami </span><br /><br />Leaving Haiti we stopped to deliver meds at a field hospital. As we come up to rows and rows of Red Cross tents that sheltered hundreds of recovering patients with amputations, crush wounds, and broken bones, I noticed that a teenage boy, probably 19, was laying alone; on a bare mattress, under a tree that shaded him from the setting sun. Four large metal pins extruded through his skin as part of the external bone fixator that immobilized his tibia. <br /><br />The field hospital was doing a supurb job but it felt strange that a patient with critical injuries be left alone under a tree. So I walked over and asked, “Êtes vous d’accord?” (Are you ok?”). He said he was doing fine. So I just sat down next to him and practiced my French -- and said <span style="font-style:italic;">désolé mon ami.</span>Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-14010357368420778122010-01-15T09:10:00.000-08:002010-01-15T09:12:01.605-08:00THE DAY WE BECAME A GENEROUS CHURCHWhen Sebastian walked into my office with a great big Jim Carrey smile and a giant zip-lock bag of change, and announced that it was his birthday I thought we might become a generous church. <br /><br />Sebastian said, “Pastor Palmer, today I’m eight years old and I’m bringing you $108 dollars for mosquito nets for kids in Africa.” His dad explained that Sebastian had been collecting change for months and wanted to make the delivery on his birthday. It was a great moment. As he handed me the bulging bag of change, he said with resolve, “Next year, on my ninth birthday, I’m bringing you $109.” I love it. <br /><br />At The Grove we talk about living generously, living simply... so that others can simply live. I’ve always hoped this would become our culture, part of our DNA. <br /><br />In September we challenged our people to leave their shoes at church and go home barefoot, so that their shoes could be given away to people in Liberia who had no shoes. We dubbed it Barefoot Sunday. My sons told me this was a bad idea, they said people will not come to church that Sunday. <br /><br />On Barefoot Sunday The Grove was packed – my sons were wrong. On Barefoot Sunday more than 2,000 pairs of shoes were left at The Grove. On Barefoot Sunday I thought, maybe we’re become a generous church. <br /><br />Three weeks before Thanksgiving we put 180 empty boxes in the lobby and asked people to take a box home, go shopping and fill it for a family’s Thanksgiving dinner... and include a turkey. All the boxes were gone before people arrived for the third service. The third service people grumbled that they had no boxes to fill. <br /><br />We put a hundred more boxes out the next Sunday. Those all disappeared as well. The Sunday before Thanksgiving, as I stood and watched a refrigerated semi fill with 280 boxes of Thanksgiving dinners for families in need, I thought, we could be on our way to becoming a generous church. <br /><br />A month before Christmas we told the people of The Grove that this Christmas we would take our church’s first ever Christmas Missions Offering. The project we chose was to rebuild the gymnasium at African Bible College in Yekepa, Liberia that was destroyed during the civil war. We needed $50,000 -- in one offering – on one Sunday! The amount was staggering. Frightening. Audacious. It would take a miracle, I told the people of The Grove. <br /><br />On December 20th our people gave to help rebuild buildings and lives in Liberia, but instead of giving $50,000 they gave $110,000, and I thought, we just might be a generous church. <br /><br />This Sunday, today, a couple stopped me after the second service and slipped a hundred dollar bill in my hand and said, “Please give this to someone who needs it.” I said, “I will, I have no idea who, but I promise I will do that.” After the third service a young man stopped to say hi, I knew his wife had just lost her job and life was tight, and it hit me, today they need this hundred dollars more than anyone I know. So I slipped the bill into his pocket and said, “A generous person at The Grove wants me to give this to you.” <br /><br />Today I realized we are a generous church. <br />Generosity really is a part of The Grove culture. <br />I try to live that way.<br />I hope you will too.Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-56987505949442447962009-12-05T19:08:00.000-08:002009-12-05T19:11:45.515-08:00TWO-FER TUESDAYTuesday was a good day. I started Tuesday at about 6:30 at Starbucks, writing and having coffee with a warm cinnamon roll. Starbucks now has ovens that make the cinnamon roll soft and tasty. Warm cinnamon rolls with coffee make me feel good – real good. My friend Tom happened to stop in and sat down to say hi. Having a warm cinnamon roll and coffee with a friend is even better. But I didn’t offer to share my cinnamon roll with Tom, but I think it was ok, he’s one of those guys that only eats really healthy things, like apples. <br /><br />When I drove up to The Grove I stopped to watch Butch pour the footings for our new sign. This made me very happy. I’ve wished for a front entrance sign for three years! Plus I love construction, maybe because it means something new is happening. I could tell Tuesday was going to be a very good day. <br /><br />Somewhere around nine Colby and Matt came in my office to tell me about the Christmas songs <br />they wanted to sing this Sunday. I like Christmas songs, they make me think about Christmas, and Christmas always makes me feel warm and good. My favorite memories as a kid all seem to have something to do with Christmas. <br /><br />At noon my very attractive wife stopped by with a turkey and cranberry sandwich. I love turkey and cranberry sandwiches but I only get to eat them around Thanksgiving. Fortunately, after Thanksgiving, we get to eat the stuff for about a month.<br /><br />Our staff meeting started at one. I like our staff. They are all gifted… and cool. I secretly believe The Grove has the best staff in America. On Tuesday I felt very fortunate to be a part of leading The Grove. <br /><br />Later that afternoon I left the office in a hurry because my freshman son took the wrong color jersey to his Perry High basketball game at Corona. I took him the blue one. We made it before tip-off. Watching my sons play sports is one of my favorite things I get to do as a dad.<br /><br />At halftime my 11 year-old son and I got hot dogs, chips, and a Dr. Pepper. Eating junk food while you heckle the referees and watch your son play basketball makes the game even sweeter. <br /><br />As soon as the Freshman game was over, the JV game started. My 16 year-old son plays on the Perry JV basketball team. It was a two-fer Tuesday! <br /><br />I really wanted them to beat Corona because my friends Gary and Tim always talk about the state championships they won at Corona and how Corona is Arizona’s basketball powerhouse. After trailing the entire game Perry took the lead with two minutes to play… and won! <br /><br />It may have been just another Tuesday, but this was a Tuesday that God filled with so much good. I think he does that more often than we realize, we just don’t bother to notice.Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1925732272388798829.post-3276264267625658052009-11-27T08:27:00.000-08:002009-11-27T08:36:51.337-08:00How To Write a Bestseller<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/Sw__WKOxwCI/AAAAAAAAAB0/rYTKKJZcMD8/s1600/Great+Wall.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ONuH1Gy9A5o/Sw__WKOxwCI/AAAAAAAAAB0/rYTKKJZcMD8/s320/Great+Wall.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408822433663795234" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">On my 13 hour plane ride to and from Beijing last month I read Don Miller’s new book,</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A Million Miles in a Thousand Years</span></span></i></span><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Quirky, different… and very compelling. It has to be on your reading list this year.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Miller’s theme is story.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We are all living a story.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But some are living better stories than others. God gives you liberty to live a great story or a pretty sorry story.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But here’s what hit me when I finished the book, God gives you a co-author to help you write the very best story. We could even call him a ghostwriter… the Holy Spirit.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">How to Write a Tragedy</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The problem is, all too often we want to write the story on our own.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We refuse to listen to the whispers and proddings of the One who writes with us, and we end up writing a tragedy.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It’s pretty obvious when someone is in the middle of writing a bad story.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Their lives fill with anger, deceit, jealously, conflict, bitterness… you’ve seen it before.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A few years ago I returned to the LA area where I used to be a youth pastor and walked into a restaurant and saw the mother of a couple of my former students.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So I walked over to her with a big smile to say hi… but then slowed down.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Because the man she was sitting with was not her husband.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Oh, Palmer, great to see you.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Let me introduce you to my friend Bob.”</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I didn’t want to meet Bob.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I must have had some odd look on my face because the next thing she blurted was, “The boys are fine Palmer.”</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">She had five. “They’re big now, you know.”</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The youngest was five.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">You see what I mean, she was in the middle of writing a very tragic story.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A story filled with brokenness, sorrow, aloneness, and nauseating regret.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Even the Bible is filled with stories like that.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Cain wrote a story that was about jealousy.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Boaz wrote a story about loneliness.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Gomer’s story was about shame.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">David wrote a story about unfaithfulness.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">They were all writing tragedies.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Drivel</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Maybe you are not writing a tragedy but maybe your life is just drivel. It’s not that our stories are bad stories, it’s just that sometimes there’s not much of a story.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Everybody wants to write beautiful prose with their life.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We want dramatic moments, we want to make the audience to gasp and applaud… but then we settle for drivel.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But here’s the truth, life doesn’t just happen to you, you are the screenwriter. The story that will be written is up to you… but then we let ourselves live in writers block – and nothing happens.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">While in China we traveled the Great Wall outside Beijing.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">On the way, our overly talkative tour guide, Adam, began to tell us about Marco Polo.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Among too many lines, this one stuck with me. Adam explained that Marco Polo once said, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Everyone’s life is a book, but for those who never travel their book has only one page.”</span></span></i></span><span style=""><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Because of this thought I’ve begun inviting the people of The Grove to travel to Africa with me and ride dirt bikes in Liberia.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Here’s why.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We have about 2,000 pairs of shoes in a shipping container in our parking lot headed to Liberia, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to distribute them.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Then this exhilarating thought hit me. How about when our team travels to Africa next June I put about half a dozen people on dirt bikes everyday and send them into the Liberian jungle; down bush trails, deep into the rainforest with big boxes of shoes strapped to the back of a dirt bike, to give to pastors and village leaders.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I have 123 people signed up now for the trip.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I think they all want to ride dirt bikes down jungle trails.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We may need to hold tryouts.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Your life doesn’t have to be drivel, your story can become riveting if you’re just willing to take a few risks.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If you are content with a weak relationship with God, then don’t listen to his spirit.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If you are content with a some-what-moral life, then don’t listen to his spirit.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If you are content to daydream and just not do much with you life, then don’t listen to his spirit</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If you have little ambition of doing much to change what is broken in this world, then don’t listen to his spirit.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A Better Story Starts Now</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This story the Holy Spirit is whispering on your heart requires action.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">You must move.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">You must respond.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">You must do something good.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And it all starts now.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Right now.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">While riding a bullet train heading north to the gritty Chinese city of Siping I was reading the China Times, when this article grabbed my attention.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Foreign Hero Saves Six.”</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The article explained that in the Guizhou Province, construction scaffolding collapsed with hundreds of bags of concrete, trapping six people beneath the pile.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But then I read these words, “A muscular African-American man in a white t-shirt and blue jeans ran to their rescue and began throwing bags off concrete off the suffocating people.”</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Singlehandedly he saved all six… then walked away into the night.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The Governor of the province is searching for this hero to honor him.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">By the time I finished reading the article, I wanted to be that muscular, African-American man in a white t-shirt and blue jeans tossing fifty pound bags of concrete like they were pillows.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">That’s the kind of story I want to live.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Do you see how the very best stories require action on your part.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">How to Write a Best Seller</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Writing a great story starts with this simple idea, listen more for the leading of the Holy Spirit.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">God has put his spirit in your life for that very reason.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Pay more attention on this day, today.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Today the page is blank.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Today the story starts fresh -- if that’s what you need. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Today you can begin a new story, a better story.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Your story is not written yet… you write it right now.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Palmer Chinchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15839223644124582406noreply@blogger.com0