JoeTucker’s Weblog

Paul makes a statement in the Bible that I have always selfishly wrestled with. Paul states that he would forsake eating meat if it (paul’s eating meat) caused a brother to sin. This was in reference to meet sacrificed to idols, but the thought has permeated (and rightly so) Christian thought. The idea is that if some action causes someone else to sin, then in love you would forsake that action.

So in the back of my mind I fear that one day I would have to stop eating wings, or forsake a delicious steak because it caused a brother (or sister) of mine to stumble. (This is generally why I ask vegans and vegetarians why they choose the diet they choose). Well I have not given up meat, but I did forsake something that I haven’t missed for quite sometime.

This last Sunday, I missed the Superbowl. I didn’t see any of it. No commercials either.

And it wasn’t because the Steelers were playing and as an avid Cleveland fan I didn’t watch in protest. No, I didn’t watch the Superbowl, because there is a friend of mine, here in Philly, that has a gambling problem. So we (myself and other friends) forsook the Superbowl and all its game-day glory for a night of food and video games.

There wasn’t a high degree of spirituality about the room as we played and laughed together. We didn’t;t discuss the deep things of God, but there was a spirit of love. It went without words that the Superbowl wouldn’t be flipped on for a second just to see the score, or that we would watch just the commercials. No, throughout the whole night, we played with the understanding that in love, this was the better choice.

Love is hard. It is costly. It would have been easy to watch the game elsewhere, but I found it invaluable to be there with my friend and to not watch the game at all. For I would rather cast it off entirely, then to cause a brother to sin.

Grace and peace

The title says it all.

I will explain my recent lack of profound posts with three reasons. One, I am busy in Philly. Two, when I have time to post I enjoy being lazy and not doing anything. Three, I lacked clarity with which to post.

But now that clarity has come in the form of a quote from a Martin Luther King Jr. sermon delivered in 1954 (or 56…) entitled Paul’s Letter to the American church. One quote (amongst the many fantastic quotes that the sermon contained) was the above title, “the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the hope of the world.” And it is this overarching statement that has reinvigorated me with the clarity of mind to post, to proclaim, to preach if you will, that I fully believe King’s statement to be true. Just as true as it was in 1954, it is true today, and will be true until the fullness of that hope is achieved That Day To Come.

And if I believe that statement to be true, that truly the Gospel of Christ is the hope of the world, then that makes a great many other things follow from it.

For example, I am in Philadelphia because I believe that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the true hope of the inner city. It is the hope of children who would rather meander around MySpace then read a book. It is the hope of families familiar with violence and oppression. The Gospel is the hope of poor school systems. The Gospel is the hope of utilities not being able to be paid. The Gospel is the hope of molested children and abused mothers. The Gospel of Jesus Christ is the hope of the inner city.

And when I speak of the Gospel of Jesus Christ it is not simply (as if it could ever be simple…) that Christ died on the Cross for our sins, and now we live with Him forever. It is that. But it is the fullness of that Gospel as well. It is the Gospel that redeems the brokenness of the world, that proclaims “Grace, Grace, Grace!” Grace for the prideful. Grace for the lazy. Grace for the weak. Grace for the arrogant. Grace for the selfish. Grace for the perverted. Grace.

It is this redeeming transforming Gospel that can reform the Church, restructure economic norms, abash oppression, reconcile races, cultures, and genders. It is this Gospel of Jesus Christ that is the hope of the world. And that hope is for today. It is not some distant hope to be suddenly upon us on some distant day. It is an ever present hope that we welcome into our homes, churches, workplaces, and lives when we choose Christ above all else.

When we choose Christ, His hope seizes us and we are compelled to live (as King calls it) maladjusted to the patterns of the world. We live maladjusted to patterns of greed, war, violence, oppression. We are, in Christ, opposite of these things. Our Hope is in selflessness, peace, love, and justice.

So it is not with a naiveness that I say that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the hope of the inner city. It  is with a great vindiction of faith and a resolute understanding (or at least always trying to understand more and more) of the immense power and scheme of God. His is not a wicked scheme, He is not cruel. He is good. And His Gospel is hope.

Hope for inner-city Philly. Hope for the Gaza Strip. Hope for suburbia. Hope for Kenmore and South Street and Stow and Green. Hope for America. Hope for Afghanistan. Hope for both the unborn and the abortionist. Hope for for Mozambique and India. Hope for the Dalits and their oppressors alike. Hope for Creation and nature.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ is the hope of the world.

{This has become a predominant theme in my life of late, thanks for taking your time to read it!}

Grace and Peace.

So I have been absent from the blog scene for while and for that I apologize. I have either been too busy, too lazy, or too confused to blog over the last couple of weeks. Anyway, I’ll just throw out a spattering of various thoughts I’ve had that I’m still in the process of mentally refining into blog form.

So I’ve been thinking about…

+the Church. the means by which Biblically we are called to see social change and justice implemented. how could we do church differently, more creatively?? should we adhere the structure of services and buildings to accommodate the lost or should they continue to contort themselves to fit into the pre-established norms (not all of which are necessarily Biblical)?

+Dirty, Sexy Money: Inspired by the show, which I have never watched, and its slightly ridiculous title that uses taboo words to lull in viewers, I have been rethinking what a redeemed sexuality and redeemed finances could look like. Under the premise of cleanliness and uncleanliness from the Bible, how have sexuality and our use of money been distorted from God’s design and how can we partner with (through/in) God to continue to redeem these aspects of our lives. I think one such venue is by being more explicit about such matters, sex and money are quite often discussed in the Bible but seldom discussed in the church (aside from a list of condemnations or something). Crazy questions like would it be Biblical if the church actively helped each other get out of debt (which I believe may be the greatest detriment to the mission life, debt!!) (Expect a post on this soon)

+Racism: I read and discussed more on white privilege and am in the midst of defining what racism means and what I (as a white, middle class, man) ought to do about it.

+My beard. Going on two months since I’ve shaved and my beard really does look fantastic, just a little maintenance, and I look like a mountain man. Sorry for the lack of Facial Hair Awareness Campaign updates, I’ve been too busy living it!!

+What happens next year. Stay in Philly, back to Akron, or somewhere else? Teach, preach, non-prof, church, school, academia?

+Excited for the Watchmen movie to come out as well as The soloist. The former a sweet comic book now hopefully awesome movie, the latter a great read, hopefully great movie about homelessness and mental illness.

+Lots of thoughts on foolishness. Presently reading 1 Corinthians again with a smattering of Gospel excerpts to supplement, (as if 1 Corinthians needs supplementation haha) Considering what a foolish idea the whole of Christianity is. Not in the sense that, “this is foolish, thus we abandon it” but rather in the “this is the foolishness that only God could come up with!!”

+Presently reading: The Ragamuffin Gospel and What am I suppose To do With My Life, (and Ultimate Spiderman volume 12)

Whew, that seems to be a pretty good expression of the majority of the thoughts that I have been having of late, I am excited to expound on some of them soon and eagerly hope for your comments and feedback

Grace and Peace

It was not less than a week ago that I walked to the Indo-Chinese American council to begin my weekly Thursday math-tutoring to the group of 18-22 year olds trying to attain their high school equivalency diploma; a group that was slowly becoming my friends as we shared lunches, jokes, stories, and life. On the walk to tutoring, I passed a neighbor.

This neighbor was a mainstay in our neighborhood. We met him our first weekend in town cleaning up the block. He was an old man who diligently took care, greeted, and looked out for the block and the people within. He always said hello to us and would walk across the street to pound our fists. He was a good neighbor.

He was stumbling as he walked. At 9 am, my neighbor and I passed. I asked if he needed help, if he was ok. He responded with a degree of shock and an air of away-ness, “I don’t need help, I’m high. Drinking that cow’s piss.”

Now I don’t know what cow’s piss is (and I intend on looking it up on urbandictionairy.com), but I was dismayed. Here was a mainstay of our neighborhood, stumbling home stoned out of his mind.

And I arrived at Indo-China, tutored, and talked, laughed, and wished a merry Christmas to the folks that I wouldn’t see again until after the New Year. I headed home, somehow got through the craziness that Thursday after school is (Thursdays are the last day of after school for the week and inevitably end up being the craziest and hardest days), attended a Mission Year Christmas party, then proceeded to drive home through the night courtesy of my good friend Noah.

We reached Akron at 8 in the morning. I hugged my family, wrestled with my dog, then proceeded to drive to Columbus to drop off my roommate. A power nap. Drive back to Akron. Hello to friends. Dinner. Crash.

Saturday and Sunday and Monday have come and gone in a blur of old friends, catching ups, new stadiums, doctorate parties, bachelor parties, church services, dates scheduled, sisters, dog-walks, present wrappings, and good conversation. (Oh! and not to mention a whole lot of inward awkwardness in being among just whites again, i love the diversity of the city!!)

And now I find myself blogging. Processing the fact that I was in Philly and am now in Akron. That I have talked already to some of my best friends and have left behind some of my newest. It is weird to say the least.

And freshest in my mind is the exchange I had with a friend who drove me home. We discussed a mutual friend who had ‘lost her way’ so to speak. And the realities of life were before me.

People will stumble through life wherever they are. Whether it is my new neighbor stumbling down Ruscomb, high at 9 in the morning or my college friend struggling with identity, sexuality, and depression. We can’t help but stumble.

It seems that the way of this life is rough.

Unsteady. Crooked.

And more and more the goal of not just Mission Year, but following Christ becomes evident to me. We are a voice. A voice declaring,

      “In the desert prepare
       the way for the LORD ;
       make straight in the wilderness
       a highway for our God.

       Every valley shall be raised up,
       every mountain and hill made low;
       the rough ground shall become level,
       the rugged places a plain.

       And the glory of the LORD will be revealed,
       and all mankind together will see it.
       For the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”    (Isaiah 40:3-5)

We shout out to those hard of hearing or speak quietly to those whose spirits are tired that their time in the desert is drawing to a close. That the LORD of Love comes to comfort and forgive. To uplift and renew. To heal and to save. We proclaim that another world is possible to the afflicted in the city and to the aimless throughout the land. We profess his peace, freedom, equality, and love. 

And as we call out, inwardly we await the fullness of His promise.

And one day my neighbor will not need to get high to escape the pains of his life. And one day my friend will know that she is loved.

Those who have hears, let them hear.

Grace and peace.

Things have been happening very fast here in Philadelphia. Thanksgiving has come and gone and now in less than three weeks, I will be heading home for Christmas. Within the last weeks, I have met more new friends, engaged in many a deep conversation, been challenged with other injustices and vices, and have continued to serve with three non-profit organizations. Things have been ‘good,’ but also hectic, challenging, and tiring. So I felt it necessary to take some time to simply process these many thoughts via blogging. Here goes!

I realize as I consider the words to type, that uncertainty unsettles me. The idea or state of not knowing what to do or how to live or where to go creates in me a great deal of unrest. Furthermore as a leader, uncertainty in my life means certain uncertainty in my leadership (how can I lead if I know not where I am going??). So as I serve, live, and learn here in Philly, again and again, I find myself in places of uncertainty, and I find myself desperately searching for some semblance of solidarity, understanding.

And the danger here is being simplistic. The danger with what I’m about to say is that it comes off as a Sunday school answer, not as the deep, lived out answer to my life questioning. So with that in mind, I have found that Christ and Christ alone is my solid ground. I cannot rest on knowledge, achievement, my own ability, humanity, law, money, family, community, or any other facet of life that generally brings us some degree of ‘grounded-ness’ (and I use that term {which I made up} loosely here).

Only Christ is certain. But what does that mean?

It means His love for me is certain. It means I can rest in His promises of restoration and return. It means His call to love and lay down one’s life is not foolish (although at times it seems to be nothing but). It means that the act of following Christ, wherever that leads, is the greatest of pursuits.

And unfortunately for me, it means living in the uncertainty of faith. For to follow Christ means that daily we choose Him and the unknown that is accompanied with following Him, rather than what we ‘know’ we can rely on.

I hope this post encourages you, reader. I feel that I wrote this more for myself than anyone else.

Grace and peace.

Yesterday with a dozen 4th through 8th graders in tow, I walked to the local library to protest the city’s decision to close 11 branches of the Free Library of Philadelphia in order to meet their $8 million dollar budget problem. The students had made signs reading, “Don’t close our library!”, “Books before budget”, Education=Opportunity=Jobs”. We stayed out in the cold for about 45 minutes waving the signs to cars driving by, then headed back to our after-school program.

I don’t think the kids fully understood what was going on. And unfortunantly the adolescents of the group were to preoccupied with being adolescents and having the chance to yell to really be concerned. But it was valuable to be there nonetheless.

You see, the city has chosen to close the 11 libraries in the poorest districts of Philadelphia. So my team went to a protest as did the team in SouthWest Philly. A protest to encourage the city to restructure its budget in order to keep the libraries open. Because the neighborhoods actually need these libraries.

They need the libraries for internet access to apply for jobs. For many kids the library is a warm place to go, when they are locked out of their houses/ Believe it or not kids actually still get books from these library branches, not to mention the hosts of programs the library runs to help literacy, reading, GED equivalencies, and so on.

And we plan on doing more than simply protesting. We’ve signed petitions. We’re planning on attending town meetings and writing letters as well. I’ll keep you posted as more news develops.

Grace and peace!

On the eve of my 24^th year of being alive, I walked solitarily back to my house. My journey did not begin in solitude, but it ended there. I left Kensington and Allegheny, where Mission Year conducted a City Wide night—a night when the Mission Year crew members gather to worship, share, eat, and encourage one another. I left with my roommate Chris and another Mission Year team on the SEPTA. The Southwest Philly team continued on the Blue Line while Chris and I transferred to the Orange Line to head home to Logan. A homeless man asked for some food and I gave him some candy I had received for my birthday and continued on to the transfer.

I missed him. I missed Jesus. He was sitting there in the subway station, and I gave him two pieces of candy and went on my way. My roommate hesitated. He had seen Christ, when I had not. As we boarded the Orange Line to head Northbound, he chose against it. He told me he was heading back to the man, and as the train doors closed between us I was a mix of emotion.

Tired from a long day and a longer week. Excited that my birthday was tomorrow. Guilty for not loving the man as fully as I could. Excited that my friend would. Confused as to what to feel, as to what was right to feel, or right to do.

So I drove the train alone northbound home. And I did the only thing that made sense in such a time. I prayed. I prayed for Chris. I prayed for the homeless man. I prayed God’s rich mercy for my soul.

I arrived at my destination. And walked out of the Logan station into the rain. It was a fitting rain for my heart. Not nearly a downpour, but more than a drizzle; a contentious shower. And I walked home. I walked home through the neighborhood I had walked through earlier with a local pastor, Pastor Joseph.

Pastor Joseph has been ministering in the neighborhood for three years, knows the strongholds (both good and evil) of the neighborhood, and took Chris and me on a prayer-walk through those areas earlier this morning. We walked past the alley where prostitutes go and leave behind paraphernalia. I passed by that alley as I walked home in the rain and prayed.

I walked home alone in the rain.

Chris has since returned. I thanked him for loving the man that I did not. He assured me that I had done my part for the evening. I was reminded of how the body functions. How one ministers while the other is weak or tired. And how we support each other in prayer.

And Chris shared with me the joys and frustrations of his time with the man, Carmen. He had obtained a sandwich and a potato salad since we had left him and Chris’ return. Chris gave the man the money he had on him, spent some time with him, and prayed for him (he also offered him a contact with Pastor Joe’s ministry, Victory Outreach—a ministry that runs recovery houses for drug addicts and homeless men).

Then Chris came home, out from the rain.

But where does Carmen go? Perhaps he ended up at a halfway house or local shelter. Maybe he took the info and found a Victory Outreach home. Maybe he stayed the rest of the night in the subway. Perchance he went out in the rain, alone and sought out shelter elsewhere.

***Insert a long emotional pause here as I try to figure out what to write***

It says in Matthew 5 that the rain falls on both the just and the unjust. And it did this very night. I walked through the rain, as did Chris, and I suppose Carmen did as well. And I wonder who’s who. Just and unjust. Chris, Carmen and me.

And I know the labels don’t truly matter in this case, but that when the day is done Chris and I got out of the rain. And what of Carmen?

I don’t know.

I do not know..

Happy birthday

Grace and peace despite uncertainty. Grace and peace.

At present I am sitting in the Indo-China Council computer center. This place is a school for young adults striving to obtain their GED equivalency. It is both a place of both hope & despair. Hope, in the fact, that the students here are trying to better themselves to grow as individuals, to learn in order to obtain careers, provide for their families, and to make a living. Desperate in the fact that there are so many present obstacles between these students and “success” (whatever success means anyway….)

And when I came to Philly, I expected to work in places like this. I expected to teach, serve, tutor, love, befriend, etc. These things all seem like natural progressions of working in the inner-city (or working anywhere for the Lord for that matter) to me. However, I did not expect to learn and be challenged with the need to pray.   

In my devotions I read Mark 6 today, which is the story of the feeding of the 5000. And I am beginning to understand the dilemma the disciples faced when challenged by their rabbi to fed the masses. They said that it would take 8 months wages, they felt it an impossible, weighty task. Yet Jesus beckons them to search the crowd and to see what they could find.

I can imagine their cynicism. As they grabbed 5 loaves and 2 fish from among so many, it must have seemed pointless. Futile. I can imagine that they handed what little they had found to Jesus with a degree of despair, disappointment, or maybe even a scornful, “I told you so.” (Of course I am putting some of my own feelings into the Scriptures, so this isn’t Biblical truth, so much as speculation, but stick with me here.)

And then Jesus breaks bread. And He does it again, and again, and again. And at somepoint everyone is fed. The entire crowd eats their fill and there are leftovers! It is only by prayer that I can have that some hope and faith at my worksites and in my neighborhoods. There exists in the depths of the city an almost palpable cynicism that daily seeks to overcome you with its constant reminders. Aimless youth. Trash on the streets. Broken windows. Dilapidated houses. Racism still present. Systems of oppression after system of oppression.

It’s encompassing, overpowering. It is a pungence so foul that one would forget what pleasing aromas are.

If not for prayer. If not for daily seeking out the Lord and pleading His presence throughout out day. Because daily it seems that the insurmountable needs of the city stifle my meager attempts at change, I have no other course but to seek out He Whose Strength is Greater, that I might serve at His command.

I did not come here to learn how to pray, but the city has forced it upon me.

Grace and peace

This is a question I am often asked on the phone, via facebook, etc. And to be honest it’s hard to answer succinctly. Sometimes I say things are “intense,” because they are. It is intense always being in ministry, living with 5 people, meeting neighbors in a new place, and of course there is the immensity of the city itself, intense indeed.

But it’s good. So I sometimes will say that on the phone or in a facebook message. But ‘good’ doesn’t do this experience justice (and trust me Mission Year is all about justice). It’s not ‘good’ in the sense of, “Oh life’s good” as we shrug our shoulders; which we all know only means that life is boring or uneventful or the same-old-same-old. And my life in Philly has hardly been that. Many days are different here, with new challenges, excitements, encouragements, and/or sad/joyful realizations. So ‘good’ just doesn’t work. The curse of semantics!

So we return to the original question. How are things in Philadelphia? Good? Yes. Intense? Assuredly. But something more…worthwhile. Worthwhile, as in the awkwardness, the trials, hardships, new lessons, and challenges are worth it.
Worthwhile in the sense that the ‘joe’ that emerges from the year will not be the same ‘joe’ that entered into it not more than two months ago.

Worthwhile in the sense that absolutely nothing we do, no one we know, nothing we own is of greater worth than knowing Christ and growing in His likeness and love.

Word!

Grace and peace.

Some of you may have thought that with all my new experiences in Philadelphia that I would have developed new passions and left behind some of my old passions such as the campaign to spread the joy and depth and beauty of facial hair. Well rest assured that I am still concerned about facial hair in both Akron, and Philly and the world.

My roommate Chris has a fantastic beard that I have encouraged him to continue to grow. There is a man who I work for at a Medical Clinic in Kensington (a district of Philly) who has recently started growing a beard and I have encouraged him in this endeavor as well. And it is great to come to this city and to work with people and encourage them to grow out their beards.

Philly has warmly embraced the beard. I often see men on the subway with thick beards. Walking throughout the city there are regal beards, tattered beards, well-cut beards, the classic college scruff beard. The whole works.

But there is also resistance to the beard trend. There are still those who mock and encourage men to shave their beards. But rest assured that I am working hard to continue to fight for the continued rights and freedoms of beards everywhere.

Grace and peace.