*Note: many portions of this column are tongue in cheek.  Especially the title.  I love teleworking.  Mostly because I don’t do any real work but shhh…
I don’t know about you guys, but frankly, I love when the pope visits DC.  I got to work from home for three days this week!  Thanks to the Holy See!  (What the heck is a See anyway.  If I were the pope, I’d have people refer to me by a much better nickname like the AllFather or the Super Robe or the White Wizard.  I’ve been reading too many comic books.)
The reason I got to work from home was because of the potential traffic gridlock caused by blocked off streets and massive amounts of tourists that was anticipated, so my employer decided to allow employees to telework if they needed to.  I heard some people were planning on sleeping at work or going in at noon and staying past midnight just to avoid traffic.  Because let’s be honest, driving in traffic in this area makes one really appreciate gun control laws.  But ironically, for those that did have to commute, it didn’t really turn out to be that bad.
Maybe it was because of the amount of employers approving telework in anticipation of the traffic or people changing their commuting schedules to avoid any issues.  Maybe it was divine providence because the pope really does have a landline upstairs.  Whatever the reason, those that did brave the outside during the pope’s visit probably had a much easier commute than expected.  For a region that prides itself on having only 1 road between Maryland and Virginia, that’s pretty good!  (In other news, seriously, get it together Maryland and Virginia.  Build a bridge or something.  It’s not that hard.)
Often times, we’re so much more afraid of what the consequences we imagine could be than what reality actually turns out to be.  In matters of faith, this is probably a concept many of us church-going Christians are all too familiar with.  “But if I commit to an oikos group, my Saturdays will never be free.”  “But if I tell people I’m a Christian, they might expect me to be good all the time.”  “But if I go to a missions trip, I might have to… do stuff... and not be able to shower.”  Yes, these are all very true potential consequences, except the showering part – this is purely optional but highly recommended for the sake of your teammates as well as the gospel.
But, in Christianity, there is no such thing as teleworking.  Jesus’ Great Commission is not a message to a select few super Christians.  The Bible is not a book to be read only by Christian nerds.  Our faith is not meant to be a lamp hidden under a bowl.  We are supposed to live what we believe no matter what the consequences.
And the truth is, the consequences are never really as horrible as they seem.  On a personal level, some of my greatest experiences of true vulnerability and community have been within an oikos context.  Telling people I’m a Christian at work has allowed me to share my faith with those I might never have spoken to about Jesus.  And every missions trip I’ve been on, not only have I showered (except that 1 time when I wanted to see how black my scalp could get), but I’ve seen God move incredibly in the lives of others as much as myself.  I also know for a fact that many others in our church have had similar if not even greater outcomes.
So, church, let’s step out in faith and say yes to the Lord in things both big and small.  No doubt, there is potential for some traffic on the 495 of our souls (my old English professor just threw up).  But the truth could be so much sweeter than what we fear.

From Pastor David’s Heart
September 27, 2015

I went to get a pedicure with my wife Mina a couple weeks ago.  It was highly uncomfortable.  Not only because I was the only man in there and women were secretly laughing at me (I’m used to that – I get my hair cut at hair salons, have bought clothing at Forever 21, and in general, have experienced girls laughing at me, Mina included, as a daily experience) but because it feels weird to have someone touch your feet like that.  I’ve never had anyone handle my feet this way before.  The closest I have come to experience someone massaging my feet is when I try to rub my calloused toe on Mina and she punches my foot.  It’s quite soothing.
So, I had to distract myself.  I tried watching whatever was playing on TV, but it was “The Notebook”, which is probably one of the worst chick flicks ever made.  And I’m not biased against chick flicks – you are talking to the guy whose very first DVD purchase was “You’ve Got Mail” starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan (Side note: you know you’re old if you hear the movie title and automatically hear the sound of dial-up.  Also, if you know what dial-up is.)  But the movie just does not do the book any justice!  (Hmmm… maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that I read the book.)  In any case, I had to resort to playing a game on my phone just so I could focus on something other than the woman handling my feet and making fun of me to her co-worker while Mina took pictures of my discomfort because my wife’s favorite pastime is laughing at my pain.
Afterwards, I thought about how we as Christians believe the washing of feet is such an intimate act.  Partially because it’s so utterly humbling – feet are disgusting things – but mostly because our Lord did this very act – he knelt down before his disciples and washed their feet: disgusting, calloused, smelly, hairy, and all.  Even the feet of Judas were wiped clean.
And I wonder how the disciples reacted.  We know that good old Peter first tried to refuse it, then asked Jesus to basically give him a backrub at a Korean spa.  But I wonder if the others responded the same.  Were they as uncomfortable as I was at the nail salon?  Were they ticklish?  Did they refuse eye contact?  Did they feel guilt or shame knowing how dirty their feet were?
The truth is, Jesus washes our feet every day.  Because every day, he forgives us our sins.  He takes the filth and grime around our hearts, our hearts that are so not used to being touched and warmed and massaged, and wipes them clean with his own blood and tears.  When I stop to think about it, that makes me just as uncomfortable as any pedicure.  But we don’t often stop and think about it, do we, church?
I have a friend who has gone to missions in India to work with the Devadasi, a group of women in Hindu culture who are trapped in their station in life as temple prostitutes.  In a society with no social mobility, girls born into the lowest caste of poverty and insignificance are dedicated to a Hindu goddess and serve the rest of their life in sex work to provide a means for their family.  At one of the conferences put together by a local missionary to encourage these women, my friend and his other short-term missionaries sat the women down and washed their feet, one by one.  At first the women protested – the caste they are in is literally called “the Untouchables.”  But soon, their protests gave way to tears as men and women from a faraway land touched their filthiest body parts with a tenderness and love that they had never experienced before.  And in that touch, many of them saw Jesus for the first time in their lives.
For women (and men) who get pedicures all the time, it’s easy to get over the discomfort of someone touching your feet.  For us, who are forgiven all the time and take grace for granted, it’s easy to forget that there was a cost to our forgiveness and mercy.  But there’s even grace for our forgetfulness.  And even better, we can share in that grace with others too.  Let’s go wash some feet, church.

From Pastor David’s Heart
June 28, 2015