Douglass Blvd Christian Church

an open and affirming community of faith

n open and affirming community where faith is questioned and formed, as relationships are made and upheld. 

How you can help refugees

A refugee crisis is defined by helplessness. Helplessness of those fleeing their homes, families, and lives; helplessness of aid workers to feed and shelter them; helplessness of governments to stop the violence; helplessness of those living in safe lands to provide those in crisis safe passage and a new home; it lingers like a fog.

Our helplessness as people of faith can cause us to lash out, decrying those who speak and act from fear rather than compassion. But we are not entirely without agency, and there are productive ways to help. We can reroute that energy into programs dedicated to helping refugees and immigrants find food, shelter, and the tools they need to rebuild their lives here in Kentucky.

Americana Community Center

Americana Community Center is a non-profit organization which provides a spectrum of services for the many diverse residents of Louisville Metro. These services enable people to discover and utilize resources to build strong families, create a safe, supportive community and realize their individual potential.

If you have anything else you'd like to offer, you can contact Clare Rutz for more info.

Kentucky Refugee Ministries

Kentucky Refugee Ministries, Inc. (KRM), a non-profit organization, is dedicated to providing resettlement services to refugees through faith- and agency-based co-sponsorship in order to promote self-sufficiency and successful integration into our community. KRM is committed to offering access to community resources and opportunities and to promoting awareness of diversity for the benefit of the whole community.

Catholic Charities: Migration & Refugee Services

The mission of Migration & Refugee Services (MRS) is to provide refugees with the support and assistance they need in order to become self-sufficient. The role of Migration & Refugee Services is to involve, organize, and bring together the agency, church, and community resources necessary for successful resettlement.

Or, of course, you can give to our general fund here at DBCC, which has been used to support many organizations seeking justice for the disenfranchised.

The best way to help those in need is to support the people and organizations who are committed to doing so. Let's share our wealth and help them make a difference.

If anyone has organizations or people to add to this list, please email Geoff, who will work to get them up quickly.

Rumor Has It (Mark 13:1-8)

Brian Cubbage in the pulpit today. Always excellent.

Jesus reminds us in today’s text that we are not the walls we build. We are not the edifices we inhabit. There is life after stone tumbles upon stone. The birth pangs he identifies are not, or not just, for a new order of things, yet another set of walls, yet another house in which we try to trap God and, in the end, only trap ourselves. The birth pangs are ours: for the new selves that God seeks to birth in us; for the new creations God seeks to make of us.


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More Than All Those (Mark 12:38-44)

What if the point Jesus is making isn’t: Be more like the widow?

What if the point he’s making is: Don’t prop up systems that hungrily seek the last pennies of those who can afford it least?

Apologies for missing the recording of the scripture, which is sort of important. You can read it here.


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A Letter to My Youngest upon Wandering through a Graveyard

By Derek Penwell

Dear Dominic,

I want to tell you about a graveyard I wandered through today. It was rainy and chilly, which seems appropriate if you're going to wander through a place where dead people make their home.

A dry-stone wall rings this patch of land. The stones, which have soft moss colonizing an inhospitable world, are stacked in a way that first appears haphazard, but in reality has its own sense of order and purpose. I suspect that each of those stones has a story to tell about the world that formed them and the hands that laid them.

I'd like you to see what I see and hear what I hear as I wander. The train offers up a plaintive sigh in the distance, while birds perched on a broken branch occasionally provide their own commentary on the landscape we behold.

As you walk down the rows, between the gravestones, you can smell the musky scent of the creek that lies just beyond the far wall. You may also notice that a great deal of time seems telescoped into a very small space, neighbors from different centuries tend their sad homes side by side in this humble stretch of ground.

You may also notice that old people and young people reside next to one another, making their ages unimportant in ways apparently impossible for those of us who tread new paths on top of these old dwellings. But the gravestones, rather than a barrier, form a community whose requirements for membership do not extend to such unspeakably insignificant things as age (or race, or gender, or class, or religion, or sexual orientation, for that matter).

The whisper of the creek carries the muted voices of this particular neighborhood, muted voices anxious to tell a thousand different stories–stories that even the wise stones are not articulate enough to tell.

You cannot quite make out the details of the stories in the language the creek speaks, but you can imagine the tales the whisper wants to tell. And as the creek continues to unfold its watery narrative, you may begin to notice that the stories themselves are alive, that each piece of limestone that stands in the water's way, rather than prevent them, allows the stories to be told again and again–an eternal record of the community gathered.

You may sense the spirit of those buried joining together, an expectant company of those departed but still strangely present, hoping desperately for someone to stop and listen to lives that we often think have slipped quietly into the darkness, but lives that continue to speak nevertheless–even though it's true that most times the only ones there to hear already abide in this sacred community, among the broken stones that surround them and the rippling stream that gives voice to their longing.

I want you to wander through this graveyard with me, my son, so that you may recognize the muted voices of our own lives, which will one day also join this commonwealth and be borne upon the song of the waters. A strange joy to be welcomed home.

Love,

Dad

Where God Is (Revelation 21:1-6)

Our passage this morning about the new Jerusalem doesn't say that God's home is among mortals . . . except for, you know, the Muslims, or the atheists, or the Republicans (or Democrats, depending on your politics). God doesn't say, 'This place would be just perfect if we could get rid of the people who live on the other side of town, if we could just check papers for the undocumented, or the hoodlums, or the St. Louis Cardinals.' God says, 'Ok, so it's a fixer-upper. I'll take it. I'm going to do a little renovation anyway, but the neighborhood is just exactly my kind of people.'


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2015 Halloween Party

We had a great time at the Halloween party Saturday night! It was wonderful to have the women and children from Freedom House with us. Thanks to everyone who participated, and everyone who helped. Most of all, thanks goes to Jennifer Vandiver for organizing everything.

What Do You Want Me to Do for You? (Mark 10:46-52)

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So when Jesus asks, 'What do you want me to do for you?' we believe we know how to respond. 'This or that,' we think, is what will enable us better to follow Jesus 'on the way.' A little tuck here, a pinch off there, and we’ll be good as new. We don’t need much. Already in pretty good shape.

But what if Jesus’ vision of what we need is different? What if Jesus sees a completely different road from the one we’ve been trained to expect? What if following Jesus is being given eyes to see that what formerly looked like failure is precisely the path down which we’ve been called?


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In Your Glory (Mark 10:35-45)

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Popular Christianity promises a Jesus who only wants to be your pal, a Jesus who doesn’t want you to be inconvenienced, a Jesus whose real concern is that all your biases are continually reconfirmed for you. A Jesus who knows what true glory looks like. And, let me tell you, that would be a whole lot easier on me.

But unfortunately, I’m not good enough at this to give you that Jesus. Instead, I’m so incompetent at my job that all I can manage to figure out how to give you is a Jesus who seeks out the small, the irrelevant, and the marginal. I’m only skilled enough to show up on Sunday mornings with a Jesus who thinks glory looks like losing, sacrificing, and dying. I hope you’ll forgive me my vocational inadequacies.


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More than Love in Dreams (Mark 10:17-31)

Derek Penwell and his son, Dom. 

Derek Penwell and his son, Dom. 

It occurs to me that what Jesus is suggesting here is that—far from being that which frees us from the worries and constraints of life—clinging to things, the accumulation of stuff is that which binds us . . . enslaving us, possessing us, mocking us, killing us. Far from liberating us from the cares and worries of the world, the accumulation of stuff ensnares us, adding link by link to the chain that shackles us to ourselves.

All that stuff, at some indeterminate point, switches places with us in the saddle, and starts riding us.


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What if I'm the Only Expert Available . . . and I'm Not an Expe

By Derek Penwell

I was on my way to pick up my two older kids from high school when my wife called to tell me she had a flat tire. She was stuck only a couple of miles away, so I said I’d pick the kids up and come over to help change the tire right away.

When we got there, I went through the pain-in-the-neck stuff associated with replacing a flat tire with a spare. As my wife and I were working, it occurred to me almost immediately that my two teenagers displayed an appalling lack of curiosity about the practice of tire changing.

But my purpose in writing is not to complain about my kids. Frankly, I’m not sure how interested I’d be if I were them either. It was hot outside at the end of an already long day. You know how it goes. Why go looking for extra work if you don’t have to?

Afterward, though, I thought, What if my kids had a flat tire and their mother and I weren’t around? Then, of course, I felt guilty about not helping give them more life skills when I had the chance.

Leaving aside my own inadequacies as a parent, their lack of curiosity makes a certain amount of sense, if you take into account the fact that our culture has become so specialized that we’re conditioned to expect there must be an expert to call on whenever we run into problems. Even the proliferation of DIY shows is a subtle reminder to most of us that we do a whole lot more watching of DIY shows than actually DIY-ing.

Unfortunately, our culture’s inexorable march toward ever greater efficiency through specialization means we have been lulled into thinking that most problems require an expert. And often, we’re content to wait until the expert shows up before doing anything.

But, as I suspect we all know, there are times when no expert is available, while there are things we could actually do ourselves. What do we do when we’re in a situation where there are no experts to call? It happens.

Perhaps better put: What if I’m the only expert available … and I’m no expert?

That seems on its face like a stupid question. If I’m not an expert, I’m not an expert—no matter how nice it would be if I were.

Ok. Let’s change the question then. What if the situation I’m in doesn’t require an expert, but merely someone willing to brave the fear of failure to try something they’re not expert at?

Because, let’s face it, most of the problems we encounter don’t require an auto mechanic, or a brain surgeon, or an attorney. We’re much more capable than we give ourselves credit for.

[Disclaimer: There are problems that require expert attention. Regardless of the movies, you’re probably not going to be able to land that 747 manually after the pilot has been rendered unconscious and the radio useless, using only your native intelligence and plucky can-do spirit.]

With what seems like the constant drum beat announcing the inevitable demise of institutional Christianity, the church often finds itself in the same boat, looking for an expert to help us fix what we’re convinced is fixable. But the enduring belief that what’s wrong with us is fixable by the right expert has two problematic assumptions that keep us mired in anxiety and brokenness.

First, not all problems are fixable—even if you lay all the experts end to end at the foot of them. Many factors that contribute to congregational decline, for instance, are beyond anyone’s control, let alone ability to fix. Population density. Traffic patterns. Demographic shifts. Geographic location. Quit punishing yourself for things you can’t control.

Second, often the “experts” are unavailable to you. They’re big and important, and, if you don’t mind me saying so, you’re not. (Neither am I, so don’t email me.) What if you’re stuck, having to change your own dang tire?

See where I’m going with this? Most of the time, what we need isn’t so much an expert as a group of people convinced that the challenges we face aren’t insurmountable, if we’ll risk failing and just get in there and do it. Often what congregations need has less to do with some mysterious cache of technical knowledge available only to experts than with cultivating a group of people who believe we already possess the fundaments that will allow us to face the challenge before us.

Waiting for an expert to fix your problem may be what you have to do. But more often than not, waiting for an expert to fix your problem is only justification for not trying because you don’t think you can, or because you’re afraid you’ll fail.

But for those who follow an unemployed revolutionary executed by the state, failure should be something we’re not only used to, but embrace.

Is It Lawful? (Mark 10: 2-16)

The easy thing, the seemingly natural thing is to secure the advantages of a world built with people like me in mind. But if we're concerned about participating in the world announced by the unfolding reign of God, the question we ought to be asking should never be: 'Is it lawful for me to disregard people who don't have the same advantages as me?' As followers of Jesus, the questions we must ask are: 'To what extent am I helping to build a community that welcomes the vulnerable and provides healing to the brokenhearted? How do I help to transform a world built for people like me into a place that thinks first of the powerless and those on the outside? How do I stand with Jesus against a world that too often tramples the best interests of women and the needs of children, that regularly ignores the plight of the hungry, the homeless, the addicted, the stranger, and the outcast?


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Cracking Skulls for Jesus (Mark 9:38-50)

Derek Penwell and his son, Dominic. 

Derek Penwell and his son, Dominic. 

Don’t you see? I want everybody on the inside. As far as I’m concerned, there is no outside.

There probably will be, of course, since there are always folks who don’t want to be at a party if they know those people are going to be there. But just remember this: Hell is being determined to stand by the valet station outside of the greatest party in the world, while the host keeps poking a head out, pleading with you ceaselessly to come inside and have a drink. It’s an open bar, and the house is paying the tab.


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Remembering Diana Garland

We're saddened today with news of the passing of a wonderful human.

Rev. Diana Garland, founding Dean of Baylor University's School of Social Work, and friend to Douglass Blvd Christian Church passed away yesterday, ending her battle with cancer.

Her impact was significant, and we honor her life by continuing to strive to love those whom God loves.

She spoke here a few years ago. It was thoughtful and profound. It's definitely worth another listen.


The Urgent Hope of Ta-Nehisi Coates

. . . Coates’ cynicism is not simply cynicism for cynicism’s sake. The “hopelessness” identified by Anyabwile affects something in our minds and hearts, if we allow it.

What should this hopelessness inspire in Coates’ audience, particularly those of us who identify as Christians?

In a word, urgency.

Sojounrers

Great commentary on encountering Coates from the perspective of a people of faith. Basically, if you aren't reading Ta Nehisi Coates regarding people of color in the U.S., you should be reading Ta Nehisi Coates regarding people of color in the U.S.

Saving a soul from death (James 5:13-20)

According to James, we’re not called to believe the right things, say the right things, have the right bumper stickers on our cars. According to James, our job is live like Jesus.

Simple. Do the things of Christ and people will see Christ. Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, bind up the broken-hearted, give voice to those who have no voice, sing with those who sing, mourn with those who mourn, heal the sick, pray and cry and laugh and confess your sins to one another—because Lord knows we’ve all got plenty to confess. And the miracle of it is, when the church begins to act like Jesus—it’s its own best advertisement.

(He's back.)


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Getting In Shape (Mark 8:27-33)

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Story keeps us connected, teaches us, saves us repeating mistakes and creates space for relationship. When we hear, really listen to another’s experience, we can begin to see our own story—the shape of our life with new ears, new eyes.


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Telling Our Story: A Few Questions to Get Us Thinking

By Derek Penwell

As I write, I'm headed to Denver on the final leg of this sabbatical journey. It's been a wonderful summer, and I'm grateful to have been given the opportunity, both by the Lilly Foundation and the good folks at DBCC. Thank you.

As you know, I've been thinking a lot about story and plot this summer. In particular, I've wondered about how we can tell DBCC's story over the past eight years. I know you all have also been doing work on the kinds of changes that have occurred, and how those changes fit into a coherent narrative. Done well, storytelling is a difficult but extraordinarily gratifying task. I want to thank you for the time you've invested in this process.

Earlier this summer I wrote about the heart of narrative–conflict. Conflict not in the sense of fighting other people (although that too is a part of narrative conflict), but in the sense of two sometimes opposing forces: desire and obstacle. All good stories have some version of conflict. The protagonist wants something (e.g., to find love, to get back home, to survive tragedy, to discover something new, to find meaning, etc.) but is prevented from realizing the yearning by some external or internal obstacle (e.g., a competitor for the beloved's affections emerges, a mugging results in a lost wallet and passport, food and water supplies threaten to run out, the mathematical calculations fall short, a troubled past gets in the way of carving out a new future, etc.).

I challenged you to think about DBCC's desire (i.e., what has driven us?), and what kind of obstacles have arisen to make the journey more difficult. I'd like for us to have a discussion about that when I return, because (at least in my own thinking) this is a promising way of thinking about our story–both what has already happened, and what kind of things we might think of doing moving forward. 

Perhaps a way to “prime the pump” as you reflect is for me to offer a few questions:

  1. What kinds of things have we been most afraid of as a congregation?
  2. Have we dealt with the root causes of those fears? If so, how? If not, why not?
  3. What kinds of things do we consider victories?
  4. What kinds of things have proved the most challenging?
  5. Which of the speakers this summer helped you think about your faith or the life of the church differently? Why?
  6. What kinds of ideas did the speakers evoke in you that might be worth thinking more about as we think about the future?
  7. If your thinking about DBCC has changed over the course of the summer, how has it changed?

You may think of more questions. What I hope this does is help us to consider the path our journey has taken, and where we think we're poised to go next.

I find this to be such an exciting opportunity, and I hope you've been stimulated by the broad range of speakers, the loving attention provided by Candasu, and the steady administration of the staff. I can't wait to see you next week!

Personal Piety (Mark 7:1-23)

The problem comes when we allow our desire for control over our lives to guide us instead of allowing God’s word, which tells us to love one another and pray for our enemies and feed the hungry and visit those in prison, to guide us. The next thing you know, we’ve taken actions that started out as merely convenient, or which supported our desires, and made them into rules to live by. Eventually those rules were codified and we began to remember them as coming straight from God’s lips.

Modern people didn’t start that fire. The problem of teaching human precepts as doctrines is an old problem – thousands of years old. That’s what was behind the argument in this passage from Mark.


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The Impossible Gift

Welcoming Phil Snider as our last guest in the Telling Our Story series. Among other things, Phil is here to tell us what God looks like in a post-modern world. How should we encounter God? How should we talk about God?

If you want to build a ship, don't drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea. -- attributed to Antoine de Saint Exupéry


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