The CURE and the POISON for loneliness.

This is one of the loneliest moments in recorded human history. Covid 19 fast forwarded something that was already brewing.

When our troops returned and built homes after WORLD WAR 2, there was a change in the way homes were built. The largest recreation space was moved from the front yard to the back. This created a spacious sanctuary to protect the owner from enemies neighbors. No more front yard cook outs. 

No more impromptu games of basketball out front. 

Our communal relationships “evolved” once more with the creation of the garage door. Now humans could go to work and return home without ever having to hear about their neighbor’s lost cat or husband that recently passed away. They were free from the nuisance of messy relationships.

The internet was the next step toward isolation.
The more we made it easier to connect from home,
the more we felt disconnected. Don't want to hear about someone else's suffering or success? There's a button for that.

It’s only getting worse. When things get harder you can numbamuse yourself with Netflix, games and social media. . They are easier, but they ease you into the way of death and isolation. 

It's insidious.
Fight back. Refuse to decay.

For those of you who feel like you have few friends, 
I want to make an encouragement to you. 
Don’t be alone. There are others in our church who feel the same way and rather than just stay home, they’ve created events for men and women to gather together. Of course they will never be more convenient for you than your phone.

You won’t want to go because you’ll feel like you won’t know anyone. It might be awkward. You’ll find yourself inventing reasons to not go. And yet, while an event won’t often make you feel fulfilled, it will often help you to find your people. The more events you go to, the easier it will be to find your people.

And so friends, I encourage you, as our church schedule begins to fill up, if you want deeper friendships, this is the place to find them. Check our events calendar and make a commitment to be uncomfortable. 

Sign up for our BLVD conference.
Enjoy our Men’s and women’s events.
Get tickets to the women’s soccer game and scream with us. 
Join your city group. And join us this Sunday as we celebrate communion in a beautiful way that may be new to many of you. 

Don’t do this alone church.

I love you. 
-Pastor Dale

P.S. Sign ups are live now for the MY BLVD conference. So far we have 26 people signed up. I really believe this event can be life changing. I believe if we get 40 people to both, our church is going to do some amazing things that we have yet to even imagine.

Please sign up HERE. 
It is free, but it wasn’t cheap for us to take this risk and help fly out 4 people. We hope you will value it and maybe even consider volunteering to help. 

Future dates:   .
April 26-27- The MyBLVD discipleship conference. Starts 6pm Friday night. 
April 28- Men's hang out after the service. 0
May 12th- Mother’s day, Women's soccer game at 430pm against Gotham.
May 20- All church prayer night 7pm by candlelight.
May 25- Women's Spring retreat
May 26- Men's hang out.
Tuesdays/Wednesdays:
City Groups in homes. 
-Wednesdays. 
REEL TEENS meeting at St Stephens Church 6:00-8:15pm 

The Unloved Tree.

One Spring morning, a tender sapling emerged from his sleep in the cool, wet soil. A chorus of birdsong welcomed him. Beckoned by the warm sun above, he stretched his arms as high as he could. He creaked and sighed as the beams of light wrapped around him in a blanket of gold. He felt good. He felt loved by the sun. 

At the same time his roots expanded and drank deeply of the pools of water left by the recent winter rains. And each inky night, he rested and dreamed of growing closer to his sweet luminescent friend the following day. 
He felt good. He felt loved by the sun. 

Every morning, new buds and leaves would emerge. Flowers crowned his head and bees hovered over him with attention and love. He felt good. He felt loved by the sun. Over time the pink crown fluttered to the ground as small bits of fruit emerged. There wasn’t much. But it was beautiful. 
He felt good. He felt proud. He felt loved by the sun. 

But one day, after all the fruit had fallen to the earth, the sun barely came up, obscured by fast moving clouds. He shuddered as the ominous breeze howled and he braced himself for change. For the next few weeks the sun would peak out of the clouds only for moments. His friend, the sun felt distant. Even still he soaked in the moments when he felt the warmth on his branches and creaked with pleasure. 
He didn’t feel the sun as much. But he still felt loved by the sun. 

Then came the days and even weeks when the son went missing. He had been abandoned. The tree tried to stretch like before, but this time he only felt hardened and cold. Leaves fell like tear drops on the ground. 
The tree felt unloved by the sun. Worse yet. He felt bitter toward the sun. 

Now his focus moved from the sky to the trees surrounding him. Even with the sun obscured, he saw the Palms and the Evergreens as resplendent as they had ever been. 
Maybe it wasn’t the sun’s fault. Maybe he was the problem. 

His exterior grew hardened and cracked. Scars emerged in his bark. Not only did the sun not love him. But the tree felt shame at his own lack of growth. He was going backward. Shouldn’t he be stronger by now? 
The days passed and the young tree slept more and more. He stopped looking toward the sun for guidance and love. He felt like giving up. His focused moved to the sodden floor. 
He dreamed of what might have been if he were a better tree. 
If he were a better tree the sun wouldn’t have left him. 
If he were a better tree, he would still be green like the others. He grew colder and sleepy.

Then one morning, something like a memory woke him from his slumber. The gentle caress of the morning sun kissed his tendrils as the birds emerged in song once more. Buds sprouted skyward and he grew daily once more. The bees returned and soon, large, sumptuous apples hung low from his heavy branches. His heavy arms sagged with pleasure and pride. He creaked under their weight. And he understood. The young tree had learned about seasons. 
He felt good. He felt loved by the sun. 

Months later with his fruit, all eaten, his leaves fell with the mercury. 
The birds retreated and the sky grew dark once more.
But the seasoned tree wasn’t afraid this time. He knew growth would come again. 
He welcomed the clouds as old friends, even as they obscured the sun. 
The heavens opened and he drank deep from the earth. And while he couldn’t see or feel the sun, 
He felt good. And felt loved by the sun.
——--------------------------
I don’t know if this analogy hits home for any of you. 
Some of you may see it as too simplistic or sappy. (trees. sap. Get it?)
But I hope you will take a moment to embrace it anyway. Ask God what season you are in?
I’ve spoken to many Christians recently who find themselves depressed and wanting something better. 

Parenting, school, age, grief, depression, health challenges, money problems, hormone changes and other situational seasons have left you feeling like your leaves have all wilted and fallen. The fruit is missing from your once fertile limbs. You feel shame. Some of you question your faith. And you look around and see fruit and deep green leaves on all the other Christians around you. But let me encourage you in this. 

God still loves you. And seasons are just that. They come and go. You will again feel His warmth. Don’t beat yourself up if you haven’t been a super christian lately. The Christian life is not linear.  You’ll feel like you are going backwards sometimes. Just don’t stay there. Stick with us but don’t compare yourself to us. Some of us may be in a different season than you. 

Look to God again every morning and one day you will feel his blanket of warmth wrapped around you again. You’ll see the leaves and fruit growing from your tree once more and you’ll be able to encourage those who feel faithless and fruitless like you once did. Just don’t give up.  And DON’T mistake a long season for something permanent. You can do this, and He can help you. Don’t give up on Him, because He will never give up on you.  And remember, just because you can’t feel God, doesn’t mean He isn’t there. 

“But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings, and you will go out and playfully jump like calves from the stall.” Malachi 4:2

He won’t give up on you, Church. You can do this. 
—Pastor Dale

Lifting the bar.

“Whenever you are tired, you are building muscle.”
What a stupid thing to say to me when I could barely lift a bar above my head.

It’s been decades since I laid down on a squishy bench while sweaty dude’s heaved and grunted around me to the sound of weight machines and country music. I’m glad I can’t smell that room anymore. It was my sophomore year of High School and I weighed about 135 pounds in soaking wet clothing and the ladies were not impressed. So I decided to bulk up. I started drinking something call creatine and carbo loading. I would go to a work out station and work muscles until ore and then move to another station.

But that day, my coach stopped me.
“Dale, you moron. You are doing this all wrong. Haven’t you been listening when I teach about this?”
Of course I hadn’t. “During his speeches, I was mostly just imagining myself dragging school busses behind me and picking up cars when a cat got stuck beneath them.
I was imagining all the ladies lining up to feel my biceps.

“Whenever you are tired, you are building muscle. That is the most important time to keep going.” He said.
And so I reluctantly sat back down and continued to work my pecs, while coach probably yelled some catchy slogans at me. I assume he was right. I never really bothered to look it up.

One thing I DO know: He is absolutely correct about life.
If every time we are sin or are sinned against we remove ourselves from Christian community, our resilience becomes weak. If every time we are depressed or anxious and we remove ourselves,
our emotional muscles stay weak.

Our most fruitful victories grow in the soil of darkest struggle.
Our muscles for compassion and forgiveness are strengthened by our own suffering.
Mountains move when we learn to trust God in spite of our doubt, not in the absence of it.
This Sunday, we will gather as the church.
We will sing songs, pray together and learn from God’s word together.
We will also find hope in Jesus’ story of a poor beggar woman who endures when evil conspires against her.

I hope you will join us.
And don’t forget,
When you are tired, burned out, beat down and anxious.
You are building muscle.

-Pastor Dale

When you get punched in the mouth.

When I was younger, my older brother started watching boxing with me. There was one fight I could never forget...

I distinctly remember my brother talking to his friends while I sat in the corner eating my weight in Korean BBQ ribs and Ruffles. When the main event began, we gathered around the glow of the television to see history as Mike Tyson fought Evander Holyfield. Tyson was not the boxer he had been in the past, but he was still scary. And I mean SCARY.

Once the fight started, Tyson lost all sense of sanity and bit Evander on the ear MULTIPLE TIMES. The cameras found an actual bloody piece of Holyfield’s ear on the floor of the boxing ring and I almost regurgitated a lot of Korean BBQ. Gross. Tyson was a cheat. Tyson was insane. Tyson was DEFINITELY scary! 

Since then, Tyson has cooled off considerably as jail time and his maturity levels have changed. Tyson and Holyfield have even teamed up to sell THC infused gummy ears called “Mike Bites.” I’m totally serious. I heard it on the radio this morning.

So why do I mention Mike Tyson today?

Well, Mike has a famous quote:

“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

It’s true right? You think you know what you are doing with your life and then pain, hurt and despair come upon you like a five foot ten, 220 pound ball of anger and muscle.

I’ve noticed during this season many of you have been attacked.

Your health, your immigration status, your marriage, your mental health, your backs, your job situation, your housing, your finances and your spiritual health have taken some serious punches.

Honestly, I’ve felt like in the last few months, even my wife and I are having to apologize to each other like we never have before. Both our mothers have been fighting cancer. We’ve been punched in the mouth by cancer. And while our church will always have seasons of attack, I believe the devil is especially aware of the resource our new building can be to our community and for the kingdom of God. 

Yesterday, I felt so desperate for spiritual covering that I went around the building and anointed it with oil, while praying. I had the staff from another church in the city come pray over our building. And then for much of yesterday and today I wrote out prayers and scripture over our door posts while praying aloud.

I was desperate for MORE covering. I wanted more protection.

I believe this next season is going to be very impactful for our church and community. The devil apparently does too. But remember that Jesus promises the gates of Hell will not prevail against God’s church! (Matt 16) So when you get punched in the mouth, keep your head up. Lift your eyes up to your maker (Psalm 121) and please make sure you aren’t walking alone in your pain. Talk to people. Show up when you are bruised. And if you aren’t being punched or bitten, please use your energy to tend to the wounded!

Finally, on Sundays, if you make it early or you are setting up and everything looks done, don’t grab your phone and mindlessly scroll. Grab a friend and pray for them or pray WITH them around our building. I hope this practice becomes a more consistent part of our church culture. You never need my permission to pray. Just do it.

How beautiful when the saints gather together pleading with God to glorify Himself by redeeming marriages, cancer and whatever else the devil wants to use for evil. I cannot wait to see the things God does with our PRAYED up church. I believe we will see great things in our lifetime. 

Rejoicing with you through bloody ears and the violent punches of evil, 

Love, Pastor Dale

The Church, after the hurt.

Around seven years ago I moved back to San Diego and a friend took me surfing. I was out of shape and it showed. Well, I was in a shape of a guy who really liked Kansas barbeque. And I really liked Kansas barbeque. So we surfed a gentle spot with a nice clean parking lot. It had a sandy shore and nice showers.  After a few weeks of surfing the gentle break, he took me to a reef.

I remember walking barefoot, down the cliffs to the reef with him. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Then walking on the rocks to the shore. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Then walking on the rocks out into the water. Owwwweeeee!!!

The whole “beach” was covered with a beautiful river rock and below the water lurked a jagged reef. While gentle to the eye, the river rocks hurt like a mother. Each rock seemed to embed a portion of itself into my heel, the balls of my feet or the top of my arch. My excess BBQ weight didn’t help. It was an endless march to the shore where I mercifully began paddling.

That first time was awful. I was outmatched. I was scared.
Two drops of pee came out.

2015 when I thought I knew how to surf the reef.

 Eventually I paddled in.
Of course I scraped my knee on the reef and then gingerly tried to tip toe back to the cliff.
It was awful. I was never going to surf there again.
But five years passed. I got stronger. My barbeque weight melted off.
(I might have replaced it with some tamale weight)
I started thinking about that wave again. 
My gentle beach break with the showers and the parking left something to be desired.  

And so I started back to the reefs again.
It wasn’t the road to Mordor but the walk to the water still hurt.
And on my way back to the shore, IT STILL HURT MY FEET.
But I kept going back and soon enough it felt like home.
On bigger days I am forced to almost run on the rocks and my feet actually end up black and blue on the bottom.

But yesterday while surfing I was thinking about those rocks in relation to the church.

To enter true community, you have to risk some things. You have to walk on some rough terrain and YOU have to make the walk. No one can do that for you. We can try our best to carry you but we can’t. YOU have to seek people out. YOU have to respond to our calls and texts. YOU have to make the effort. YOU have to be willing to be hurt. It feels impossible. But it’s the only way to truly being known. Friends, it is scary! (Did two drops of pee just come out?) I get it.

You may have felt pain when you left community last. It was rocky.
Now you feel hurt or lonely and find yourself unwilling to venture back out.

But there is someone who needs YOU in the church and you need others.
Your children need a loving church family.

Galatians 6:2 says to:
Carry one another’s burdens; in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.

You may be tired and sitting your butt on some pokey river rocks right now.

You might even have a cut on your knee and bruises on your feet. You’ve been hurt or lonely. You are back on the shore and you are wondering if it’s worth it.

It is. Venture back into community.  It’s worth it.
Find a city group. Call a friend. Join us Sunday.
Heck, if you’ve been alone and cannot come back, join ANOTHER church on Sunday.
We just want you around people who know you and love Jesus.

God has you!

-Pastor Dale

Marvel movies and Church services.

Carlos was lonely.

Amongst his many friends was no depth of relationship. Crowds felt lonely to him.  

One day, all of that changed when he was assigned a group project in his last year of college. Each night they gathered in homes, coffee places and a yogurt place until they finished their presentation. It was terribly fun for Carlos and he wished it could continue.

That Saturday night he received a call from the ringleader, Missy, informing him of their plans to go see the newest Marvel movie in the theatre. Carlos was stoked! Real friends. And so the group watched together in the dark. They laughed, threw popcorn at each other, and cheered when the bad guy was defeated. As they left the theatre, they rehashed the best moments from the flick and Missy suggested going to a boba place afterwards to talk a bit more. Carlos, didn’t really like Boba so he skipped out this time. But that night as his head hit the pillow, his heart was full.

The following week a new Pixar film was coming out and the group was going. Carlos jumped at the idea and once again they laughed and cried together as a group. Most everyone decided to go eat afterwards. One person suggested fish tacos at Rubio’s and they all started to head to their cars. But Carlos decided against it. His abuela made the best fish tacos and Rubio’s wasn’t on the same level. The next week brought another movie and Carlos had another excuse not to go out after the movie.

This continued for weeks with varying excuses.
“I have to take my mom to the airport in the morning.”
“My cat’s sick.”
“I need to clean up my apartment.”

The excuses mounted and the crew eventually stopped inviting Carlos afterwards. One week, there were no good movies and so they all went to dinner without inviting Carlos at all.

The group continued to meet. They helped each other move. They went to baseball games. They helped bring food when others were sick. They went to each other’s weddings. As they got older their kids played together in the parks and beaches. Carlos was rarely invited.
  
It wasn’t that they didn’t like Carlos. They did. But they really didn’t know him. Watching movies with him was fun, but they just sat and watched. How can you really get to know someone with five minutes of small talk before and after a movie? You can’t.  Carlos’ loneliness persisted. As the invites dwindled Carlos stopped answering even for the movies. He was done. They had failed him as friends.

Friends. It’s easy to paint Carlos as the bad guy in this story. But he’s not.
He’s just doing the best he can. There are many like Carlos in our church. Well-meaning friends who come on Sunday. They faithfully come to church on Sunday. They sit and sing from their perspective seats. After receiving the blessing they quickly make their way back to their cars, talking to a few friends on the way out. Some stay longer and talk for a few minutes, but you can’t go very deep that quickly.

This is where the next step is so important. City Groups.

City groups are imperfect. They don’t always go deep in one week. Sometimes they are too big to have genuine conversation. Other times they can be awkwardly small. But the depth built over months of faithfully meeting each week always leads to depth of relationship and friendship. You will continually have great excuses not to make a city group. The most common is your work schedule or being tired. You will have to eat during your group. And I get it. When it comes to engaging other humans at 6:30pm on a weeknight or eating cereal while mindlessly scrolling Instagram, the city group is never going to be comparatively easy. But it will stretch you and grow your faith. It will stretch and grow the depth of your relationships, but it will always take more work than watching Netflix.

I wish I could say it’s easy.  But it’s not. Building relationships is serious work, but there’s one thing I can always promise you. It’s also worth every minute and it brings God glory.

You got this,
-Pastor Dale.

PS- You can find your city group HERE and give it a shot this week!

What Chapter are we on?

Some people love those e-reader book things. 

Not me. 

I LOVE real books.  I love the way they smell.  The way you cradle them in your lap.  I can read books on an airplane when all electronics have been shut off. I crease pages and write in them. I highlight favorite parts and return later. Books never give me notifications, never need to be charged and never have a pinwheel saying loading. Perhaps my favorite feature of books is the instant progress report of a bookmark.  You can see and feel all you’ve read. Sure an e-book robotically tells you 34% is finished, but it just aint the same as a solid bookmark taken from a receipt of bananas and carne asada from the market 4 years ago.

But life isn’t books.  We don’t have a progress bar. There’s no luxury of knowing when this will end. Coronavirus has given us anxiety about an uncertain future. We’ve had to hunker down in our homes.  For some parents that means, no moment for thought.  Thoughts drowned out by “Kid’s Bop” and shouting often fail to go beyond surface and survival. For others it is a desperate loneliness.  Some sit alone in darkened homes, waiting for a call or porch visit.

Oh to hug my mom, who hasn’t felt the touch of another human in over 100 days.  

And even still, we don’t know if we are in the final chapter of the struggle or the second chapter. (Depressing, I know!)

Because of this, most of us have gone into survival mode.  Looking inward. And this is not bad if it draws us to Jesus and God’s word.
But as we venture into new chapters, I hope our eyes return to the horizon, to our neighbor and to our church family.

Perhaps there is someone you know you would love an invite.  Maybe for you a five minute call feels like a meager offering, but there may be someone who would cling to it for the rest of the week like a breath of oxygen under water.

For now, it’s okay to focus on you and your family needs, but let us not forget we are surrounded by people who desperately need hope right now and as a light bearer, you can bring the hope of Christ to those who have little momentary hope. 

Chapter 12 will come one day and when it does,
consider those whose children are not often invited to play dates. 
Consider those who never get the invite to lunch. 
Consider those who could really use a friend.

We are going to get this wrong, but as a church we can continually strive to grow in this area. 
I believe in you, City Life.

You got this,

Pastor Dale

How would Jesus shop?

For the last few weeks I barely left my home, saddled with a mild cough.  Knowing that the ‘Rona sometimes had mild symptoms, I tried to stay away. Since recovering, my wife threw her back out and it became my job to venture out of the house for family needs. Multiple extended family members and friends needed fruits and vegetables so I would visit a few stores.  I honestly felt anxiety leaving the house, with my disinfectant wipes and my facemask in tow.  Glasses fogged up, I entered my first store. This was the more expensive store. It was largely empty, mellow and kinda eerie (like the ski resort in the Shining, eerie). My son with feeding issues needed the fancy organic chocolate milk from this store. I was so thankful to see a woman unboxing them and I got two.  The cashier told me she had been treated well, and I felt a pride in our collective humanity. This trip would be easier than anticipated.

Next, upon entrance to the inexpensive store there was another vibe altogether.  The air was dense with desperation and fear. If you’ve seen the show “Super Market Sweep” from the 90’s, it was much like that; heads down, rushing through the aisles, grabbing as much as possible.  No one was running, but everyone was deliberate, even stalking the workers for the essentials. The usual caviler conversations were exchanged for heavy silence and sweat. While checking out, I asked the cashier how she had been treated, “HORRIBLE” she muttered. As I consoled and thanked her, behind me someone started shouting at the manager about him showing preferential treatment.  People nearby were in an altercation about someone not keeping the six feet of space rule.  When I began packing up my groceries, another person yelled at the manager, who held his head down, trying to stay above obvious despair. Before leaving, another person chewed him out, saying they had been overcharged.

Why such a dichotomy between these two stores, I thought? 

A simple sign, that has given us the chance to love our neighbors during the Coronavirus.

The more I considered, the more it made sense. “Wealthier” people, myself included, have been able to stock up on our essentials for weeks. We have been able to save and use our finances for moments such as these. Many of our neighbors are living paycheck to paycheck, or only using EBT.  They cannot think ahead when they only have enough money for the moment in front of them.  They cannot shop at the expensive empty stores, because they have to stretch their finances to meet the needs of everyone.

This is why we have a note in front of our home offering food and supplies to anyone who needs it. For the middle class buying up all the toilet paper weeks ago, they will be fine. Others didn’t have the money to go out and buy TP when the hoarding began.

If you are able to buy a few extra groceries, consider who in your community might need it. Consider checking in on them today.  Maybe even make a sign offering help. Who can you share with? It may mean a world of difference to them.            

When your child isn't like everyone else.

The basketball careened off of his head for a third time…
My beautiful seven year old son was experiencing his first basketball practice and scrimmage. His face red and his eyes glistening, my boy fought back tears. Oh, sweet child. How I wanted to caress his face and hold him close so no one could ever hurt his heart again. I wanted to hold him in my arms and keep him safe from all the bad experiences but I could not.  He needed to do this on his own.

My son has special needs. He is quite skinny, can have an awkward gait and his bright blue hearing aid in his left ear reveals just one more way he’s not typical. Normally he is wowing us with his rare musical gift or encouraging others with his sweet disposition. I’m used to him being different and in many ways his differences are beautiful and extraordinary, but on this occasion my heart ached.  For one, I grieved what I already knew. My son would never play sports at any sort of higher level. I was never talented enough to provide such a progeny that would leap over defenders and dunk in your face, but there was always an infinitesimal chance that my children would get my uncle’s gift for basketball. But with our son’s spacial awareness, developmental delay and his ADD, it was clear, he was pretty much in over his head. Still he persevered. I watched other kids cut in front of him when it was time to take their shots. I watched their laughter. Moments later, they dribbled across the court, sinking 20 footers while playing lights out defense. Often the coach would shout to the talented kids not to steal the ball, but to his dismay they would disregard and pass the ball down the court to the kids they knew would sink the shot.  He often looked like he was playing defense against his own team, hands in their face, desperately pleading for them to pass him the ball. When my son did manage to get the ball, he would dribble well enough and get right under the basket only to fling an un-makeable, underhanded, granny shot, toward the bottom of the rim, to a distinct chorus of muffled snickering.  Throughout the scrimmage, which I’m pretty sure lasted about 30 years, my wife and I took turns leaving the room to compose ourselves so as not to show our son the burden our hearts wrestled to carry.

As the scrimmage went on, each child was cheered for by the room as they made their respective baskets. My son melted to the floor as he noticed the lack of cheers for him.  Unable to secure a basket, no one rewarded him with the feedback he so desperately wanted. Coach blew the whistle for a quick water break.

Our son stomped back to his mother, head down and defeated. Tears streaming down all our faces, we came to the conclusion he was not going to finish his scrimmage. It was decided; he would find comfort on our lap for the rest of practice and then resign from the team. But with our son’s face still hidden in his mother’s bosom a small child with a sweaty face, red from effort, softly walked up to our family and tapped our son on the shoulder.

His soft, gentle voice not much more than a whisper.   
“Will you come play the rest of the game with us?”

I had no doubt his mother was involved in his sweet message of compassion but I didn’t care.  This petite harbinger of grace showed courageous empathy to our son and it made all the difference.  My boy went back out on to the court.  He didn’t make any more shots but he now had a friend who wanted him there. At the very end, the coach gave him the ball to try one more shot and our little, white, skinny, seven year old, Magic Johnson swished that bad boy as the crowd erupted in cheers. We still weren’t coming back next week of course, and then the new young friend came by to check in on us and tell us that he hoped we would come back next week.  We still might.

Parents.  I cannot urge you enough. Prepare your children for what to do when they experience a child that is “different.” How they respond to a child that has special needs, dirty clothes or burns on 80% of their body, will have much to do with how you speak to them in advance and the way you model compassion. Their words and behaviors can make and break our fragile children who already have much to fight against. My son will not be a pro athlete. He may never sink a basket in a game. But he now has a friend on the team and that’s enough for us.  

Big news!!!

Friends,

Ruben Cazarez

We are so excited to announce that we have hired Ruben Cazarez as the next worship leader for City Life Church, San Diego! Ruben has a great heart for Jesus and has demonstrated to us that he is clearly a servant. He is also bilingual! He dreams of one day have a gospel choir alongside a jamming worship band. Ruben has spent time helping lead worship and youth in Brooklyn and San Diego but his heart rests here in San Diego. His first Sunday is August 11th and we cannot wait. I believe Ruben is the man who is going to take us to the next level as a church in worship.

Please join us in welcoming Ruben to our team!

God is good,

Pastor Dale

Don't throw out grandma with the bathwater.

“I believe the children are our future.”
Famous words sung by Whitney Houston and a more infamous Randy Watson.

These words have been repeated since the beginning of time by teachers, businesses and especially skeezy politicians. (Usually the baby kissing kind) While I totally agree that children actually are our future, I sometimes worry other generations are slowly being left out of our thinking. If you have fulfilled all of your potential and are now on your downswing in life, we overlook you.  Sometimes we don’t just overlook you, we discard you.  This has been a consistent theme in our community as I see greedy landlords taking advantage of the old and enfeebled only because they can. In the same way, if you grew up listening to Bing Crosby and laughing at Bob Hope, most churches are going to think of you as a lost cause.  I believe this is wrong. Consider a few of the verses in the Bible that speak of the aging…

Psalm 71:9 says: Do not cast me off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength is spent.

Proverbs 20:29 The glory of young men is their strength, but the splendor of old men is their gray hair.

The truth is, while many around us are dying apart from Jesus and we should have tons of concern for the next generation, there is currently an entire generation LITERALLY perishing in nursing homes who need to hear about the love of Jesus.

If they become believer will they become a dynamic leader in our church? Probably not.
If they become a Christian will they give lots of money? Probably not.
If they came to our church, would they make us “cooler.” Heck to the no.

However, salvation changes a person’s identity and eternity, even if it comes in the Autumn years.

So what do we do as a church?
I’m not sure.  I believe since our church is growing, at some point we will need to add a new city group (missional community).  What if a city group decided to adopt a local elderly care facility? What would that do? Well, it would not grow our church. 

But it might grow the Kingdom and that is enough for your pastor.     

You got this Church,
Pastor Dale

Better Together, why we partner with the SBC and beyond.

I am convinced Paul’s letters to the Ephesians, Galatians, Corinthians etc, were not written to a singular house church.  I believe they were written to the churches that made up the whole city.  Even further, we know the churches all over the ancient world shared and exchanged these letters. So I reflect on why our small urban church chooses to partner with so many.  Why?  Because we make up the Church, the bride of Christ and we are better together then separate.

The SBC-
When we decided to join the Southern Baptist church, we knew they loved the Bible and were starting hundreds of churches, while nurturing them to maturity.  There were some crazy uncles, (like the one who had Sean Hannity preach in their service, WUT?) but the majority were  lot of crazy good leaders in the group, lIke a ton.  So we joined and they supported us.  They checked in on my family, sent us on dates, and sent us gifts.  They truly cared for us. What I did not imagine is the partnerships we’d have.

Obviously our planting church, City Life Church, in Wichita has been UH-MAZING through this whole process.  They have supported us financially, prayed consistently with and for us and been a constant source of encouragement.  They sent teams two years in a row to help us as well.

Hundreds of people from City Life Church, Wichita, praying over our team a few days we followed God to San Diego.

Another surprising encouragement has been Taylor Road Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama.  Since the first time they worshiped with us in a backyard in the hood, we have been floored by their “all in” attitude.  They have loved us well, when we were a service of about 15 people and have continued as we have grown.  They believed in us when not many did.

First Baptist Church of Russellville, Arkansas has become more and more a partner in ministry with us.  They’ve handed out fliers for us, prayed for us, prayed for our neighborhood and even gathered to pray over someone in our church when she was very ill.

One of the ways, we’ve seen these partnerships flesh themselves out is how our upcoming Easter event has come to fruition.  A while back, the leadership from First Baptist Russellville contacted us about serving our church on March 18.  We talked about doing an Easter egg hunt for our under-served, mostly poor, urban community.  We had NO IDEA how we would get the word out or where the money would come from, but we said yes to the event. 

A few weeks later we got a message from Taylor Road Baptist church, saying they would be here on MARCH 16 and had a day to help us out.  It was clear as day who would pass out the majority of our fliers for our event!  God, you crazy.  Next came the finances.  With a wing and a prayer we submitted a request to the California Baptist foundation and within a few days they had agreed to FULLY FUND our event.  God was working in the details even when we were walking in faith. 

One of the many teams that have worked on my neighbor's yard, played with kids, prayed for people and handed out our flyers.

BLVD-
The BLVD training program is through the SBC and their goal is to make disciple makers in the Urban Church.  They make me a better husband, leader and pastor.  The leader of the program, Dhati Lewis has provided so much encouragement to me personally.  Blueprint Church, where he pastors has grown by engaging their local community and sharing the gospel through relationships and service. 

Without BLVD I would’ve never met my friend Sam Dula, who not only has preached for me many times but also is one of my first calls when I need help serving in my context.  He always cuts it straight with me and makes me laugh, EVERY SINGLE conversation.  His prayers and friendship have been much needed through every season of church planting.  Also without BLVD I think I would've said and done some really dumb things within my community.  God is good, y'all.

This is pastor Dhati trying to not be annoyed with me.

San Diego-
In San Diego I’ve also been encouraged by local churches who pray and serve each other.  Whether it be the Urban Church association guys, the local Baptist churches or the guys in the Acts 29 group that let me tag along even though I’m not an A29 leader.  I am blessed.  There are leaders all over the place that desire to see our church thrive.

Upcoming events:
We have also partnered with churches for combined services and it has been such an encouragement.  Epikos church is a church with a heart for the people of SESD and I have been stoked to join with them.  Their pastor, Coral has meets with me for prayer and he is a godly man.  I’m excited for the events we will do together in the future including our upcoming good Friday service.

Pastor Coral, from Epikos speaking to BOTH congregations.

We are also doing our “If” conference alongside Mission Trails Church in San Carlos and there is another lead pastor, Kyle Walters who is a constant blessing to me.  Without their hospitality our conference would have to meet in a cramped home.

My hope for the future:
I truly believe we are better together.  We are THE CHURCH and I hope more and more we can come together in the name of unity, in the name of racial reconciliation and in the name of the hope we profess.

Keep grinding church!

Pastor,
Dale

Tall fences: In De(fence) of Christian Community.

I love walks.  I love the smell of fresh flowers, old leaves, and food cooking in various kitchens. (Especially tamales. Dang, I want one now.)

Wind on my face, the gentle scuffle of my feet on pavement, and neighborhood noises immerse the senses. Stray dogs offer another bouquet of smells, but that’s another story. 

As healing as my San Diego walks can be, they sit in the shadow of multiple barriers: Pit bulls and Chihuahuas, pronounce me unwelcome.  Fences above the legal height loom ominous and thick locks drive the point home:
YOU ARE NOT WELCOME IN MY CASTLE.

Okay, so how about a little history?
When soldiers came home, victorious from WWII to build suburbia it was designed to be a self-sustaining unit. No longer did you need your neighbor. You were a self made man!  Empty space was moved from the front yard to the back yard where you could recline alone.  Over time, front porches shrunk or even disappeared.  Now, In many neighborhoods, people drive into garages, never talking to a soul.  This self-reliance has not only become a symptom of a problem, it contributes to our crippling loneliness. 

As a result Americans have become notoriously isolated.
Studies around 1970 found 11-20% of Americans admitted to feeling lonely.  In 2010 AARP did a study and found that 40-45% of Americans felt lonely.  As tall walls beget loneliness, loneliness begets depression.

So is it better to be lonely than hurt? 
The Bible would tell you otherwise.  Proverbs 27:6 even tells you the wounds of a friend are GOOD!
Check these other verses.

Hebrews 10:24-25
And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

Psalm 133:1
How good and pleasant it is
when God’s people live together in unity!

Friends, I truly believe God wants you in Christian community.  You WILL have your heart broken.  There WILL be misunderstandings, but you will be as God has created you to be.  You will also find joy that only comes from knowing others and being known as you should be. 

So friends, may we lower our bridges, lock up our dragons, (Yapping dogs) and forsake our kingdoms for the Kingdom of God.  You need your neighbors and they need you.  We need you.

You got this.
-Pastor Dale.

Your good deeds are pointless

Doing ministry in the inner city carries with it a desire to “do good” in our neighborhoods.  So when you live where 42% haven’t completed High School you know you can “do good.”  When websites rate your community an “F” for crime, you know there is a need.

So the goal becomes:
Step one: Help children get an education.  (“Help kids read good.” -Zoolander)
Step two: Help adults get jobs.
Step three: Cuddle up with a good book and watch rainbows and unicorns appear.

But beneath all the platitudes something sinister lurks.  If we perfect this and crime goes down, education goes up and indigenous people revitalize their own neighborhood, we can still fail.

Take Japan for example. The economy is booming.  Neighborhoods are clean and crime sprees in certain neighborhoods consist of someone writing on walls with chalk. 

Wouldn’t we love our neighborhoods to look like Japan? As a church, the answer should be an unequivocal no.  While Japan may look perfect in all the ways we would love, they are also far from Jesus.  Statistics say only a half of a percent of the people of Japan confess Jesus as Lord.  If we truly believe what we say we believe, 99.5% of a beautiful, fun, creative, civilized country is destined for hell.  That should cause alarm. Japan struggles with an alarmingly high suicide rate. The MAJORITY of people under 30 seem to not be interested in a romantic relationship at all!  Pornography, video games, social media and sex toys dominate the lives of young men to where they have little to no interest in actual women.  All that is to say, Japan needs Jesus.

If we improve the physical climate of our neighborhoods but neglect the spiritual, our hoods will be destined to become successful communities on the road to hell.  Forgive me if I sound flippant.  I am not.  I adore the people that surround our house and pray daily for their salvation.    

Friends,
Clean neighborhoods are not what Jesus is looking for. 
He wants to see dead people come alive. 
May we always consider whom we can share our resources with but may we never forget their dire need for a savior and redeemer.

When people around you are drowning.

Have you ever ventured to the harbor downtown?
Cruise ships, battle ships, The U.S.S. Midway, fishing boats and the Star of India (Circa 1863) all glide swiftly to an attentive audience of skyscrapers.  No boat is superior to the other.  Each has it’s own purpose. 

Now, if you’ll look to the harbor with peculiar eyes, you’ll see more.  Within the water, float millions of people.  Some hold on to old furniture like Rose from Titanic.  (“I’ll never let go Jack!”)  Others tread water poorly, wondering how much longer they can keep it up.

As large boats sit majestically unmoved in the harbor, life guards sit on the decks looking out for those drowning that want help.  The bigger ships struggle to see the people as they sit so high, but they do great work.  Once rescued and on the deck of the large ship, many take positions inside, helping the boat to run.  Others go inside for warmth, food and perhaps entertainment.  A dedicated few sit on the deck, remembering the one who pulled them out of the water, remembering the terror they felt as the wakes crashed upon them.  They who remember, continue to throw down lifesavers.

Down below the decks of the large ships sits a different type of boat.  We call them Church plants.  Sometimes crudely or even hastily made, the Church Plant still puts pieces in place.  You can see through slats at times and when wind causes the harbor to bounce, they take on water.  Those aboard are forced to spend time bailing out their largely unfinished church plant. Sometimes a church plant takes on too much water and is left to the depths. 

SO why board a church plant at all?  It’s a silly idea this church plant, but look to the gleaming boats in the harbor, and be reminded how they too began as a small boat bailing out water for the sake of those drowning in the sea. 

The church plant is small and agile.  She can easily go to areas of need as the larger ships are unable to pivot like her.  Those aboard also have a greater vision for the drowning.  As the boat sits at eye level with soggy swimmers, it is easier to pull them aboard and welcome them into the family. 

The big ships are good.   However, at times people completely abandon the lookout and embrace entertainment and comfort.  Soon the boat becomes weak.  The integrity of the large boat begins to give and the people slowly sink into obscurity and selfishness, unaware they are descending like those they were called to save.

City Life Church takes on water.  We offer little in amenities.  But we are close to the action.  There are holes in our façade, but when I see sunlight break through our cracks, I peak through and see the drowning, up close and there is no place I’d rather be.  We have the unique opportunity to offer a hand and feel the firm grip of a renewed hope.

City Life.  Our call has never been easy.  But it has always been good.  Throw that lifesaver over your shoulder.  Grab a hammer, a bucket and let’s continue faithfully on God’s voyage together.

Open the door.

At the beginning of the school year I felt I could help with parking patrol at our local school.  The parking lot was small and people triple-parked if unwatched.  So I strapped on my neon vest and got to work.  Sadly ambition and optimism faded quickly.  Didn’t these people know I was helping them?  You’d think I kicked each car as it passed by.

STOP! IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!  Ok, not really the law.  Just some guy in a vest.

Parking patrol can turn you into a praying man or a broken one.  Parents cursed me out for enforcing safety rules.  I received the one-fingered salute on multiple occasions.  I’m pretty sure a few wanted to park on my face.  It was tense.

Eventually, I realized I was going nowhere.  I wasn’t helping like I had hoped.  So I prayed about it.  I complained to the Lord and I felt released from parking enforcement. 

My new role is parking helper.  I open up car doors and help kids safely on to the sidewalk.  When parents realized I was not there to scold them but to help, much changed.  As a result I’ve had some very sweet moments in the last weeks where parents have thanked me and encouraged me.  Today someone thanked me “for my service.”  Isn’t that something you say to a marine when they get back from Iraq?  I'm just a weirdo in a neon vest but all it took was opening doors.

Revelation 3:20
Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.

Friends, if you are called to neighborhoods that don’t know Jesus, remember, your job is not to scold. (The Holy Spirit is already working on that.) It’s time to open up doors so they might see Jesus.  If you live in an area of material poverty, you might be able to open up doors to education and opportunity as well. Either way, we have no need to judge and enforce behavior of our neighbors.  We need to point them to Jesus.  He is knocking on their hearts.  Let’s help them open the door.

Eat your dang food!

So I’ve gained some weight recently. 

I mean, not like The Nutty Professor, fat suit, weight, but still, I notice it.
My wife has confessed the same problem, although she looks awesome.
I can usually trace my weight gain to something like zero exercise, slight weather changes, football season, baseball season, basketball season, badminton season or just a desire to eat pizza for 12 days straight. 

But this time I have a new excuse.

As many of you may know, my son has been on a feeding tube for most of his life.  Several months ago, we stopped feeding him via tube under our doctor’s supervision.  We do weekly weigh-ins like it’s a heavyweight fight.  Without our beloved feeding tube we are trying to teach him what it means to eat to survive.  Some weeks we feel victory, other weeks we fear we will have to go back to that infernal machine.

So my wife after a ridiculous amount of research devised a plan.  We are not to encourage or force him to eat (because that would feel like pressure), we just need to eat in front of him.

Of course since our son is not a heavyweight, we started buying whole milk, chocolate milk, butter cookies, bacon, pirate’s booty and anything else that might contribute to his gaining weight.  (Sometimes he’d just look at it and gag)  Since we didn’t want to pressure him into eating, we just ate in front of him.  But did he actually see me eat that cookie, I would think?   Perhaps I should eat seven more in front of him to show him eating cookies is a good thing.  Yes, I made a sacrifice people.

SO, yes, I’ve gained a bit of weight.  Thanks for checking in, judgy. 
But it’s for the sake of my child!  Eating gallons of Ice Cream is the way I show my boy love.
The struggle is real.  My daughter helps out by eating large chunks of butter. 
(Does that make us paleo now?)

Recently this got me to thinking about my personal Bible study.  Usually I wake up before the sun is awake and do my Bible study and time with God.  The bummer is, like eating, my kids won’t always see me do that and thus learn of its importance.  So I’ve begun thinking about how I can study with and in front of my kids more.  What if I had my Bible open when they woke up on a Saturday morning? What would they perceive from that?  I think they would consider the Bible to be important to daddy.  Of course in order for this to work, I may have to read the Bible when I they might not see.  Just like the seven slices of gluten free pizza on Sunday.  No one may ever see me study and I’ll have to be okay with that. 

The good thing is, unlike food, I don’t think you can have too much of God’s word.  If I became full of God’s word I think that might be a good thing.   If I devoured his word like those six avocados last week, I would actually become spiritually lean.  My kids would not feel pressure to study the word but they would see the importance of it. 

I like this idea.  I think I’ll celebrate with a carrot stick.

Kids can be jerks.

I once was a bully.

When I pushed people around, nasty amounts of pride swelled in my awkwardly skinny chest.  It made me feel better.  Like a parasite I sucked energy from the weak.  Sometimes they were bigger than me, but often I was aggressive enough to push around the large and insecure as much as the small.
Once I teased the wrong, large boy, and he kicked the crap out of me.

I deserved it.

Still, If someone had learning problems, I’d make fun of them.
If someone was not as good at sports I picked on them. 
(Funny because I stunk at most sports)
If someone spoke another language, yeah…  You get it.

So now probably 20+ years later I have come to know Jesus in a profound way and have apologized to most people that I bullied in my youth.  I’ve apologized for violence, hurtful songs I scribed and just a general meanness that was pervasive in my childhood.  I feel free from the shame and guilt that comes with such despicable behavior, as I have been forgiven in Christ.  It is only in Him I can find such peace.  I don’t deserve it, but I receive it.

And yet, I see bullying rearing it’s ugly head in my life once again, as kids begin to tease my beautiful special needs child.  It’s not aggressive or violent but it stabs me all the way to my core.

You may say I deserve this for my awful behavior, but no child deserves to pay for the sins of their father.

My 4.5-year-old son has William’s syndrome and he’s not typical.  He hugs everyone he meets to the point of awkwardness.  He asks the name of people he knows, just for fun.  He is still learning to not poop his pants, which can leave a smell that kids are quick to pounce on. 
(Figuratively, cause I aint cleaning that up) 

When they catch sight of his diapers, I know teasing is inevitable and it breaks my heart. 

Amidst all his apparent flaws is a beautiful boy that will love you for you.  He will see you as special and treat you as such.  He might throw stuff at you but he is quick to apologize.  He has an almost savant-like love for music and he already can rock a beat on the drums.  But when he walks awkwardly says something weird, he’ll be teased. 

Parents, this is where I need you:
I’ve heard kids make fun of my boy and yet, I don’t know how to chastise someone else’s child.  It would be weird and someone might call social services on me if I got in the right mood.

“YOU LITTLE TURD BLOSSOM, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? THIS CHILD WAS MADE IN THE IMAGE OF GOD!”  Gosh, that would probably still be bullying…dangit.

So this is my plea, parents.  Help me.   Help me by teaching your children to cherish those who are different from them.  Help me to show them what bullying can do to a person.  Let’s show them how to embrace someone that looks or talks differently than them. Don’t let anything go unsaid. 

Talk to them early and often about showing kindness to people different from them.  
A few helpful words a week could change a life.

Who knows that life could be my beautiful boy.

Thanks,
-Pastor Dale.
(Recovering jerk)