YMCA & Wounded Healers: a meditation on the weekend of Father’s Day, Juneteenth and World Refugee Day

As Christ Jesus is a wounded healer to you, may you in your leadership and ministry be a wounded healer to those the Lord has brought into your life. May this weekend of Father’s Day, Juneteenth, and World Refugee Day be one of grace, truth and peace.

A wonderful legacy of the YMCA is it’s participation in supporting the creation of Father’s Day, a way to build up the family and the young men they serve.

Through the work of the brilliant Rev. Anthony Bowen, a freed slave, he founded a YMCA in Washington D.C. in 1853, a work which became crucial to creating a safe space for young black men to become fathers of liberation, justice and peace.

Since the founding of the YMCA in London England, 1844 refugees have been a core of our mission, as it still is today across the world, as you can see from this 2021 conference.

As a minister who is a father, and whose father was a minister, Father’s Day is a time when I reflect on ministers and fathers in my life and the difficulties they endure, their hopes and aspirations, their flaws and failures.

The YMCA has been built up by ministers and fathers – Rev. Anthony Bowen, Marine Missionary Thomas Sullivan, Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., Ecumenical Leader John Mott, and many, many more.

Being a minister and father now with the YMCA, amidst the chaos and turmoil of our generation, I found the writings of the priest Henri Nouwen to be particularly poignant, especially as it relates to being a Christian minister and leader in our culture still struggling towards racial equity and welcoming refugees.

This morning I was re-reading parts of the classic meditation by Nouwen called The Wounded Healer. The last chapter is called “Ministry By A Lonely Minister”; brilliant, compassionate, prophetic, honest reflections that resonate with me in my work in the world, my community and the Y.

For you, as you strive to do your part to lead, love, care and serve (minister) in the Y and our hurting world, may Nouwen be an encouraging guide, especially this weekend as we remember our fathers, our emancipated neighbors, and refugees searching for a welcoming home.

We live in a society in which loneliness has become one of the most painful human wounds.

The growing competition and rivalry which pervade our lives from birth have created in us an acute awareness of our isolation.

This awareness has in turn left many with a heightened anxiety and an intense search for the experience of unity and community.

It has also led people to ask anew how love, friendship, brotherhood and sisterhood can free them from isolation and offer them a sense of intimacy and belonging.

…the more I think about loneliness, the more I think the wound of loneliness is like the Grand Canyon – a deep incision in the surface of our existence which has become an inexhaustible source of beauty and self-understanding.

Therefore, I would like to voice loudly and clearly what might seem unpopular and maybe even disturbing: The Christian way of life does not take away our loneliness; it protects it and cherishes it as a precious gift.

Sometimes it seems as if we do everything possible to avoid the painful confrontation with our basic human loneliness, and allow ourselves to be trapped by false gods promising immediate satisfaction and quick relief.

But perhaps the painful awareness of loneliness is an invitation to transcend our limitations and look beyond the boundaries of our existence.

The awareness of loneliness might be a gift we must protect and guard, because our loneliness reveals to us an inner emptiness that can be destructive when misunderstood, but filled with promise for him who can tolerate its sweet pain.

When we are impatient, when we want to give up our loneliness and try to overcome the separation and incompleteness we feel, too soon, we easily relate to our human world with devastating expectations.

We ignore what we already know with a deep-seated, intuitive knowledge – that no love, no friendship, not intimate embrace or tender kiss, not community, commune or collective, no man or woman, will ever be able to satisfy our desire to be released from our lonely conditions.

When the minister lives with these false expectations and illusions he prevents himself from claiming his own loneliness as a source of human understanding and is unable to offer any real service to the many who do not understand their own suffering.

Nouwen, The Wounded Healer, pgs 83-85

The wound of our loneliness is indeed deep. Maybe we had forgotten it, since there are many distractions.

But our failure to change the world with our good intentions and sincere actions and our undesired displacement to the edges of life have made us aware that the wound is still there.

…a deep understanding of his own pain makes it possible for him to convert his weakness into strength and to offer his own experience as a source of healing to those who are often lost in the darkness of their own misunderstood sufferings.

This is a very hard call, because for a minister who is committed to forming a community of faith, loneliness is a very painful wound which is easily subject to denial and neglect.

But once the pain is accepted and understood, a denial is no longer necessary, and ministry can become a healing service.

Making one’s own wounds a source of healing…does not call for a sharing of superficial personal pains but for a constant willingness to see one’s own pain and suffering as rising from the depth of the human condition which all men share.

A Christian community is therefore a healing community, not because wounds are cured and pains alleviated, but because wounds and pains become openings or occasions for a new vision.

Mutual confession then becomes a mutual deepening of hope, and sharing weaknesses becomes a reminder to one and all of the coming strength.

When loneliness is among the chief wounds of the minister, hospitality can convert that wound into a source of healing.

Concentration prevents the minister from burdening others with his pain and allows him to accept his wounds as helpful teachers of his own and his neighbors condition.

Community arises where the sharing of pain takes place, not as a stifling form of self-complaint, but as a recognition of God’s saving promises.

Thus, ministry can indeed be a witness to the living truth that the wound, which causes us to suffer now, will be revealed to us later as the place where God intimated his new creation.

Nouwen, The Wounded Healer, pgs 87-96
Selfie with Father Joseph and the infant Jesus with his mother, remembering the message of new creation of liberation and emancipation God the Father would bring through the Son; the Holy Family would soon be refugees in Egypt escaping state-sanctioned infanticide.

As Christ Jesus is a wounded healer to you, may you in your leadership and ministry be a wounded healer to those the Lord has brought into your life.

May this weekend of Father’s Day, Juneteenth, and World Refugee Day be one of grace, truth and peace.

Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?

This post is personal for me, not abstract; it’s a way for me to work out in my heart how to find meaning in the suffering of life. May Christ Jesus be a guide for you in bringing good out of the pain, for all.

A man reveals to me that his father died too soon, while the son was yet a young elementary student.

That absence, that pain, it is still felt after forty plus years.

If God is so good, why would he take his father away? His father was a good man; he was loved, he was needed.

Why would God take him and not someone doing wicked evil things in the world?

The common question is: why does God let bad things happen to good people.

If God is so good, why would he let something bad happen to someone, something bad that he could prevent.

Since God is all-powerful and only good, you would think that God would intervene more often, keeping really bad things from happening to undeserving people.

Do children ever deserve to be assaulted or forced into horrid slave labor? You get the point.

So why does God let bad things happen to good people?

When I try to articulate an answer to that question, there is not an easy, simple response.

Should God intervene every-time somebody does something bad to an undeserving person?

If not every time, how often?

Which conditions should be automatic-interventions?

God can’t intervene every time, and even if he could, he wouldn’t; a miracle by definition makes it a rarity.

That God does intervene at times is something to be thankful for, though often it prompts resentment by those who wish it for themselves in their own plight and not for another.

So God can’t win.

If he lets people abide by the free-will he grants them, then he gets blamed for not over-riding free-will more often when it is abused.

If God has not granted man free-will, then we can fairly blame God for letting bad things happen to good people, because God is directing all of our thoughts and actions, since we have no free-will.

So: does God “let” bad things happen to good people?

Is it as if God is standing by a river watching a child fall in, doing nothing when he could do something to save the drowning, screaming boy?

Is that the implication?

That God watches atrocities happen, letting them happen when he could flick his finger and kill the perpetrators and save the innocent victims?

Is God able but not willing?

This is all very philosophical and at this point not very Christian.

A Christian reflection on this topic must include the story of Jesus Christ.

It doesn’t do us much good to ask hypothetical questions about what God can and cannot do if we do not focus on what Jesus Christ does and says.

Scripture teaches us that Jesus Christ is God in the flesh; when we see Jesus we see the Father.

Jesus Christ is the one who creates, sustains, redeems and restores Creation and all within it.

Thus, the real question: Does Jesus Christ let bad things happen to good people?

Well, what do the Gospels tell us about Jesus responding to the bad things that happen to good people?

Take for example, Jesus Christ himself.

Could we agree that he is the ideal “good person”?

If anyone was undeserving of an unjust “bad thing”, Jesus is the guy.

And how did Jesus respond to the bad things that happened to him?

Did he shake his fist at God? Did he wonder why God was letting this happen?

No and No.

Jesus seems to assume that this world we abide in is bent, broken, corrupted, infected with evil.

Bad things happen to people in this world.

That’s just the way the world has become.

Jesus doesn’t ask God why he lets bad things happen to innocent people.

Jesus seeks to use the bad things that have happened to him as a platform to save the very ones who do the bad things to him.

In Jesus Christ, we don’t see him questioning God, but rather our assumptions about God.

Jesus tells us little about why bad things happen to specific people.

He implies that if something bad happened to you, and you didn’t deserve it, don’t shake your fist at God, but rather seek to forgive the perpetrator, bring about justice if possible, establish peace, and overcome evil with good.

But still I wonder: Why do bad things happen to good people?

There are many theories; but the lived experience of humanity reveals that we live in a world where evil has reached a vast complexity.

Bad people do bad things on purpose; good people do bad things on purpose; bad and good people do bad things by accident.

You get billions of people doing bad things even just once in a while, and you have a recipe for evil on a grandiose, horrific, painful level.

Does God afflict people with diseases and cancers randomly or out of his divine plan?

Jesus says little about the source of the diseases, he points out through his words and actions that God is primarily focused on healing people from their afflictions.

Jesus demonstrated again and again that God has come as a man to bring good things upon us.

God is good, all that he creates is inherently good, he can only do what is good.

He doesn’t afflict us, he comes to restore us; we are already afflicted, he has come to heal us.

Diseases, cancer, health related problems are not doled out by Jesus to people, they are a result of being human in our world.

Everybody has to die of something.

It’s how we live and die that Jesus is most concerned about.

Jesus grieves when people die horrible deaths, he knows what it is like.

He grieves when people live and then die horrible deaths all alone, abandoned, tortured, mocked, and desecrated.

He is opposed to it: the problem is that many of us are not.

Jesus is the head, Christians are supposed to be his body.

Jesus is supposed to be able to get more done in this world by having millions and millions of adherents continuing his work of good news: forgiveness of sins, restoration of the whole person, alignment with the goodwill of God, etc.

Jesus could probably stop more bad things happening to innocent people if more people were committed to the same cause.

The real question is not: why does God/Jesus let bad things happen to good people.

The real question is: why do we let bad things happen to good people?

People suffer and die on this earth. That’s the way of this world.

But it doesn’t have to be the only part of the story we fixate on.

My mother, while a young teenager, lost her mother to cancer. Then in college she lost her father to a heart attack. Then when I was in college she was diagnosed with cancer. And then diabetes. And then one of her sons died of a brain tumor. And then another one of her sons was killed by a drunk driver. Then her husband of 39 years died unexpectedly of brain cancer.

Why do some people have bad things happen to them, things they don’t deserve, and yet they emerge from those experiences still trusting God, even if just by a thread?

The world is so complex, we can’t full know why things happen.

It’s not that God made those things happen.

But God is willing to help bring good out of those bad things.

If God could do something good, he would do it.

So all the bad things that happen, if God could stop each one of them, he would.

But he doesn’t. Because he can’t.

He can’t override our free-will; if he did, we wouldn’t have free-will.

This doesn’t “limit” God, it just states the obvious: you can’t have a square triangle, you can’t have two plus two equalling five: it is not within the realm of reality.

What Jesus has proven God to be is the One committed to the Reconciliation of all things, the Restoration of Creation, the Ground of our Being, the Source of Reality, the Renewal of Humanity, the Rescue of Sinners, the Renovation of our Hearts.

This is what God can do, and in doing so, he is overcoming evil with good.

More could be said on what is the most existential, most complex, most personal experiences of all humanity.

But this post is personal for me, not abstract; it’s a way for me to work out in my heart how to find meaning with Christ in the suffering.

This encouragement from Saint Paul to the Christians going through painful trials in Corinth was read at the funeral for my brother Matt; he was my second brother to die. This text always stuck with me and is a guide for me in striving to have good come out of my suffering:

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who consoles us in all our grief and suffering; with the comfort we ourselves receive from God, we can compassionately care for those in any kind of hardship and tragedy. 

For just as we are in solidarity with Christ Jesus who suffered, so also Christ’s consolation abides and abounds through us.

[St. Paul to the Christians in Corinth, 2/1.2-5, adapted from the NIV]

May you find comfort and consolation, redemption and healing amidst the suffering of your life and those you love, through Christ who suffers with us.

(this post adapted from one originally authored by me in March, 2008)

YMCA and Gerard Manley Hopkins

YMCA and Gerard Manley Hopkins ::: an unlikely and unique connection between the genius of George Williams and the British poet Hopkins – a rare exploration of the convulsive context in which the Y was founded and the poetry created – both a testament to their personal and transformative experiences of God’s salvation and calling upon their life.

The Y and Hopkins were born the same year, in 1844; both British in birth and embodiment of the diverse Christianity that grounded their culture.

June 6, 1844 is the founding of the Y; Hopkins is born July 28, 1844 and would die still a young man at age 44 on June 8, 1889.

This past Sunday I wrote about Williams founding the Y, today on Hopkins death-day I want to remember him and the cultural context he shared with the Y, and what it could contribute to an ecumenical Christian emphasis today.

There are very few articles on the internet that make this kind of unique connection; this one published by JSRT of Gonzaga University titled Romantic Critiques of Industrial Technology is illuminating.

A bit more about the context in which the Y was founded:

The Young Men’s Christian Association was founded on June 6, 1844 by 23 year old George Williams and eleven Christian friends.

Williams was involved in the drapery or clothing industry, and would become very successful and prosperous in it.

His conscience was pricked by the complex societal difficulties and suffering of urban families, especially the young men leaving the family farms for factory work.

This cultural upheaval was experienced as one caught in the roiling surf, almost caught by a riptide but almost to tired to take the extended hand of the lifeguard in the boat.

The YMCA was started for multiple intertwined reasons: to save the souls of young men in the city who had left their parish behind; to save the minds of these young men from the grinding and filthy monotony of the factories; to save their bodies from the base temptations afflicting their neighborhoods.

The wider cultural changes included resentment and resistance to the calculated rationale of the Enlightenment and its mechanistic interpretation of the world which fed the appetites of industrialists but destroyed families.

Movements emerged which sought to re-humanize the world, to lift up the heart and value personal experiences; this was reflected in part by the birth of evangelical revivals which stressed individual conversion marked by emotional and dynamic evidences.

Poets, artists, novelists, philosophers and theologians all added their talent and energy to this movement.

The YMCA was not the only Christian organization to emerge in this time to rescue young men from the de-humanizing industrialization of the community and create space for them to have a transformational inward spiritual awakening and calling.

It seems so simplistic now, but it was a radical act of hospitality to open up housing for these young men that was safe, sanitary, secure, but also spiritually alive.

Bible studies, prayer sessions, worship gatherings were all forms of protest against state-supported or traditional churches that rigidly clung to form of transformation, logic over emotion, correctness over inspiration, hierarchy over brotherhood.

Inspired by the dark and grueling context in which Williams founded the YMCA, what are the depressing and gross circumstances that young people need rescued from today?

What kind of housing and hospitality, safety and spiritual vitality can the Y offer in these dangerous days?

A bit about Hopkins and his context in 1844:

Gerard Manley Hopkins converted from Anglicanism to Roman Catholicism, inspired by the writings of Cardinal John Henry Newman, much to the sorrow and grief of his devoutly religious family.

As a young man he was caught up in continual conflict, complicated loyalties, frustrated talents, and isolated friendships.

His deep love for nature and people put him at odds with the rational industrialized culture which prioritized technology and production over people.

As a poet he had a roiled soul, drawn to love and serve God, inspired by the stunning Creation, but personally struggling with depression, loneliness, and meaninglessness.

Like the YMCA, he spent his life with young men, seeking to build them up in spirit, mind and body.

Though the YMCA was a evangelical Protestant Christian organization, and Hopkins a Jesuit Roman Catholic, they both valued the inner heart of an individual, striving to bring discipline and freedom to their soul, instructing and guiding others to be one with God and be His faithful servant in a fallen, corrupted, industrialized world.

The YMCA and Hopkins are both unique in their Christian contribution to God’s work in the world; both are still a force for good and an inspiration to Christians these many years later.

They both inspired many other people to experience renewal and attempt their own creative projects.

The Y has been a source of original contributions to the world: ESL, camping, basketball and volleyball, group exercise and swim lessons, etc.

Hopkins invented a fresh and engaging form of poetry, putting together new words and rhythms that compel attention and spur fresh insights into Creation.

At their heart, the Y and Hopkins strive to see the world as it really is, to see men and women as they really are, to see humanity in truth and grace.

They know darkness and the light, joy and suffering, friendship and abandonment, success and failure.

For Y leaders wanting a fresh perspective on seeing the world, try taking up some of Hopkins eclectic and intriguing poems.

For Christians wanting to remember the real context for the founding of the Y in all its complexity and genius, getting to know the real George Williams and Gerard Manley Hopkins can ground you as well as inspire you.

Here are a few of my favorite poems by Hopkins that attempt to help us see the complex spirit of humanity, the faithful Spirit of God, and how we can participate in the reconciliation and restoration of all things as ones loved and transformed inwardly by Christ Jesus.

Gerard Manley Hopkins – 1844-1889

God’s Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs–
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Sunrise over Jerusalem

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things—
   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
       For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
   Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
       And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.

Silver Bay YMCA on Lake George, NY

As kingfishers catch fire

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I dó is me: for that I came.

Í say móre: the just man justices;
Kéeps grace: thát keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is —
Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

Kingfisher
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