Once upon a time a minister friend of mine was at an event listening to a popular pastor speak. After the event he    spent some one on one time with him and asked “how mature” the speaker felt his home congregation was using    a simple 1 to 10 scale. “What level do you teach and preach from?” Shocked at the answer, my friend heard the pastor and  writer say he taught his congregation “the Bible and faith issues” on a level between 4 and 5. Through experience he felt his parishioners were not interested in going deeper.

Of course, we can try to use this information as a judging tool measuring those with whom we share the faith journey! Yet, is has haunted me personally.

Within what levels do I live?

With what issues of faith do I struggle that really matter?

Are they important and Biblical or a concern to current pop-religion?

What levels of faith do I encourage others to grow in?

Do I justify the way I live but end up staying stuck – imagining I’ve grown?

So often I hear the disciples “dogged” in Sunday school or in a sermon. Sure, it’s easy on this side of the New Testament to throw rocks at their confusion, decisions and behavior hanging out with Jesus. Look at poor Thomas. We never forget that one “doubting thing” and have covered over his entire life with it. And, I never hear anyone talk about how Thomas was first to volunteer when Jesus wanted to go see Lazarus after he had died. The stoning committee, from the previous chapter in the Gospel of John, was still standing at the edge of town and waiting for them but Thomas was willing to die with Jesus as he went to pay his last respects to a friend.

Not long ago I was with a church group doing a little one-day service project. They had cameras and video to record their working moments like they were vacationing on the beach. It hit me weird. Shouldn’t acts of mercy, servanthood and grace be common to our day? Why take a picture of it?

Brenden’s an 11-year old boy who recently died of leukemia. In the final weeks of his life he got national attention. After being asked what might be his dying wish he reflected on past experience he had driving by a group homeless folk.

“I was coming back from one of my clinic appointments and I saw this big thing of homeless people, and then I thought I should just get them something . . . They’re probably starving, so give them a chance.”

The ABC network has referred to Brenden’s story at least 3 times. It’s exploded, resulting in mass quantities of food given to shelters across the country. These same non-profits we’ve been hearing about who are unable to do the work they need because charitable giving is down are being flooded because a kid mentioned what was in his heart.

Careful - listen – the camera is clicking away and the video meter is whirring along.

My wife, Marcia, said, “If that kid can “get it” why can’t we?”
I fired back saying the young get it. We’re the ones who take it from them.

In the flailing conditions of this financial world am I assuming the poor can wait for me to “get back on my feet” before I can live out acts of mercy, servanthood and grace behind camera?

Why does it take 11-year old Brenden to get our eyes focused on what’s important?
Where am I in - “church slow class 101?”

Faith really isn’t a journey if we’ve essentially stayed in the same place. Dog Thomas and the disciples all you want but their lives ended sacrificially, severe and painful – even some upside down on a cross – because they spoke and lived out mercy, servanthood and grace. I’ve got it easy!

Young Brenden died last Friday, November 21st.
May he inspire us to be aware while on a short drive ‘round town.

Someone just might need something.
Some food.
Some time.
A friend with whom to travel into dangerous territory.

Remember there’re people who sit thirsty and water sits and waits under their feet.
Got to help them, too.

Hear an interview with Larry Bentley, one of the designers of the world’s only indoor hand-pump repair school at EDGE OUTREACH. You and I can coach communities around the world how to better provide water for themselves.

Here’s to working toward level “10” - for The Thirsty,
Mark Hogg

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“From Stench To Savor” is from the Chronicles of a Naked White Boy, by Mark Hogg

In 1983, I never knew people drank contaminated water that could make them deathly sick. More so, how could God be alive so richly amongst a people whose life was so poverty stricken?

I left the suburban, southern United States as a bull headed, arrogant college student and went to work in West Africa for a summer. Landing in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, I was driven 6 hours from civilization into the bush. “Holy crap, Toto – Kansas is in our rear-view mirror!” Over time, much of what had value for me before was stripped away.
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It’s uncomfortable to point out to someone when they smell bad. It’s easier to keep a distance, let respect dissipate, then just talk about them behind their back.

West Africa can smell unpleasant to the untrained nose – burning trash pits, the sweet scent of open sewage, dirty livestock and rotten meet sold at market are just a few aromas. Shamefully, I even found the smell of the delightful nationals around me intolerable. When we focus on the negative, people end up in our cross-hairs.

A few days after our arrival, the team traveled several hours further into the bush to a church that sat on a dusty mound under a tree for Sunday worship. The church was made out of pole-like sticks set side by side straight out of the ground and shaped like a big box about 10’ x 15’ and 7′ high. The roof was made in a similar manner and gave the church the appearance of a large rodent cage.

We got there early and I feared an uncomfortable seat for a potentially long worship service. There was one small stump on the dirt floor – I got it.

Preaching that day was one of our team members, a white North American from Irondale, TN. Looking far across the fields, you could watch folks coming. As they arrived, he stood in front of the door welcoming everyone like he owned the place and had been working all week to copy bulletins and pick out hymns. It’s funny to me now, but I didn’t think about it then. I thought WE were in charge.

After a while, my perfect seat lost its appeal. The “sanctuary” filled up - everyone shifted around, more and more people came in and we became literally packed like sardines (seriously, there was no place to move!) Any clothing worn by the nationals was tattered at best. The women were actually topless.  We were all touching each other and it was really, REALLY hot. Worst of all, NO ONE wore any type of deodorant protection.

As I sat, I just got angry. I couldn’t stand the smell, I didn’t like the singing and the pastor seemed to drone on and on. I stood up in the middle of the service and stormed out, forcing a path through the mass of worshippers. I sat under the tree in a huff, waiting until we could leave.

That memory is burned into my mind like it was yesterday. I missed something in those moments. There’s always something bigger going on around us. But so often we can make choices not to see, hear, understand, appreciate or learn – even in a beautiful and foreign land surrounded by inspirational people.

When we search for what is familiar, what is comfortable and what “should be,” disappointment is often close behind.

Right before our eyes, glorious opportunities may be unfolding which we may be unaccustomed to and they may be seen amongst a person or people with whom we aren’t comfortable . . . It is then simple sticks become majestic columns, reaching to the sky, and the scent of sweat reflects the sweet aroma of the Body of Christ. God’s people celebrate in a plethora of ways to tell the Story, hearts find comfort when they hear it.

I couldn’t see it.

Today, some 25 years later, there’s a man who’s building a homeless shelter in our community named Tom. The organization I work with is helping out. When we meet, there’s usually old food in his beard and stains on his clothes. If he comes to our office, the stench of homelessness lays heavy in the air while we talk. And, when he leaves it lingers for quite a while.

I figure Jesus was homeless – must have been the way he smelled, too. Now, I’ve learned to savor it. I hug Tom close when he comes to visit. Perhaps some of the aroma will seep into me.

A Thirsty Prodigal – even after raisin’ up from the trough,
Mark Hogg

It may not be common thinking but I know it’s what I used to think - mission people and organizations were perceived with a “serious tone.” There’s even an “unreachable place” many of us faith dwellers attempt to find after working in short-term-mission scenarios when lifestyle allows.

Sure, many mission folk are on the front lines that define life and death, struggling with constant financial challenges, feeling their way through different cultures and some even face harsh animosity from the communities in which they live. But . . . let’s not take ourselves toooooooo seriously.

In the mission outfit with which I’m involved, EDGE OUTREACH, you’ll find messy, passionate ragamuffins who are extremely diverse. Further, we just stand amazed to imagine how God would make a difference through our hands. We’re hoping, dreaming, praying and struggling just like everyone on the faith journey.

EDGE work is serious but when people of faith live, work, pray and daily connect together in the Story, there’s humor. I mean at the office there’s a group of us middle-age guys working in a cramped space and after long periods of time - we’ve got to have an aromatic candle lit – just got to.

And another thing, do we dare imagine the humor Jesus and the disciples must have experienced living in their faith clan? Like ribbing Peter for weeks after watching him “freak” trying to walk on water or watching James and John’s reaction when they begged them to pick who would be 3rd among the ranks.

EDGE’s got a story or two, too!
Here’s one -

In the winter of 2002 our first Romania team was dropped into the southern part of the country. One day they were doing home visits for a local pastor to help “check in” on parishioners that hadn’t been seen in a while. Many homes were located in concrete multi-level high-rises, remnants of the communist regime that fell in 1989. This particular afternoon, Janet and Claudia, found themselves groping down a long, pitch black, freezing cold hallway several stories up - literally feeling along the wall for the number 24 on a door. Finally, while dragging along their timid translator, Madelaena, the numbers burst like brail to the blind through their fingertips.

A quick knock resulted in the door being cracked open. Then it just about swung off its hinges and standing before them was a short robust Romanian woman clad for winter in a babushka, wool skirt and sweater. She froze shell-shocked by the foreigners. In another beat she screamed at the top of her lungs and began speaking in a fast, unintelligible singsong manner while turning her back toward them. In one fluid motion she hiked up her skirt, wrestled her wool knickers down, bent over and exposed her bare bottom.

At EDGE OUTREACH we pride ourselves in cultural training. It’s a part of each team’s preparation for international travel. Unfortunately we had failed miserably to counsel Janet and Claudia in an appropriate response to such a bare-bottom greeting.

But, EDGE folk do have a tendency to think quick on their feet. Neither chose to show any sign of surprise and saw simply one choice. They looked at each other and said, “Lets pray.” There, in the doorway, they each laid hands on the bare-ass of their new friend and prayed with all the fervor they could muster for her, her bottom and her family.

Afterward they were invited deeper into her tiny home, greeted even more heartily and served coffee. Only later did they realize the woman assumed anyone visiting from North American would be a doctor. She’d had recent hip surgery and wanted to show off her scar and get a second opinion on the surgery’s success.

Several from the Romania teams gather and for this story and more hilarity here at the EDGE Podcast page.

Bottoms Up and Thirsting for More,
Mark Hogg

I want to express the honor it is to write among this group at Christian Century.

Gordon, thanks for your encouragement to so many and further for your willingness to be raw and open, my friend.

If you followed Gordon’s “water chronicles” earlier this year, it’s evident the power all of us as ordinary people hold in our hands to save lives. His heart and emerging passion for the poor of the world to have pure water is something I am seeing captivate and take hold of many.

I write from Louisville, KY but I’m from much deeper south. If I got sweet tea and dark chocolate several times a day - life is durn good. My heart beats with the prodigal son, the thankful whore and the little drummer boy. Trucks are better than cars. And, like Mr. Beaver says, “Aslan is on the move.” When I’m too old and gassy for anyone to want me around, my dream is to play the tenor sax in smoky bars with a band called “Abraham” and tell Bible stories through the sounds of jazz.

My wife, The Marsh (Marcia), gave up a great job as a graphic designer to be a certified nursing assistant with Hospice and bathes dying alzheimer’s and dementia patients in nursing homes. In the winter, she makes killer soups. She’s an excellent house painter. When she laughs the room brightens. Her dog, Jaz, is a Walker Coonhound.

Many of my experiences come out of a weird and wonderful group of people with whom I work – the clan at EDGE OUTREACH. I’ve worked there since 1995. EDGE is most passionate about pure water for the people of the world, good vision for the poor and works of mercy in our local community. Honestly, it’s a unique context. It is frustrating to watch faith based organizations become tempted to bind down into a corporate or denominational mindset only to end up with dreams and potential life saving work dying on the vine.

EDGE does seem to get things done. The EDGE clan is a people of faith who fight against corporate mindset and the obstacles of time-consuming, committee-driven decisions. We wrestle with personal wealth (I’m not really just talking about money) and work for the poor in an attempt to daily pour out our lives to make a difference. Personally, I don’t deserve the chance to work with these people. They are great servants and passionate lovers of people. My life is different because of them.

We push through fear and remember something important is going on in each moment. Opportunities are thrown in our faces everyday and we can choose to take advantage of them or not. When you make yourself available, risks can be high. Planning is important, but instead of waiting for perfect times, money or the right situation, we’ve resigned ourselves to make soup with what we’ve got. Like some groups, we have extreme differences in personal history, theology and politics. But our differences don’t seem to matter and are rarely discussed. We work closely. We struggle often. We love each other madly. We pray together daily at 9:30AM. We believe intently in what we’re doing.

EDGE stands next to the church – I love the church. However, if you’ve read my “Wanderlust” articles I attempt to lay out some of my frustration with the big “C” church – bureaucracy, politics, lack of imagination and such. Forgive me, it comes out from time to time.

This diverse group has redefined church for me, become my community and has been again and again the vision of the Father leaping from the porch toward me, a stunned prodigal, standing broken. And, like the call of Mother Teresa, we desire to “quench the thirst of Christ,” addressing those needs most important in the moment right in front of us. He cries out through his people, “I thirst.” My emotions take over and I can paint a flowered picture of EDGE staff and volunteers. But we’re all very human and it’s most enjoyable for us to tell and celebrate how God can work through ordinary folks.

Remember - if you don’t stir the pot, it’ll burn on the bottom.

To The Kingdom, Mark Hogg

Often I wonder about the good intentions of people of faith. I think we really do have good intentions but it seems we often miss what the actual “cost” may be to “do” the work of servanthood. There may be pieces that can’t be realized ahead of time. Yeah, I believe we do have good intentions. But, as my grandfather used to always say, “If your gonna do it, do it till its right.” A church mission team working in north western Kenya was staying at a retreat center where the water was supplied by a well and storage tanks on a hill above the center. Each morning women would carry water down the hill in large jars on their heads to fill toilets and basins throughout the center. Preparing to return several years later the team decided it would be a great idea to take some plumbers from the church and pipe the water from the hill directly into the center. This would save the women their hard “back-breaking” water haul each morning. In addition it would give immediate access to water in the rooms and kitchen of the retreat center. These were good if not honorable intentions. However, overnight the women water carriers found themselves out of a job and their families immediately suffering. Further, with easier access to water in the center there were extra demands put on the well. Within several months the well dried up. Another church mission team was working in a village in Haiti. After installing a water purification unit in a village they planned to replace the communities old but operating hand pump with an electrical pump in the well. During the installation the shaft slipped and fell 100 feet tangled in rebar. Stuck in the well casing virtually irrepairable. The people of the village were then forced to walk 3 miles getting contaminated water at another well. Then, that well dried up because of the extra use. With great sacrifice and stick-to-itiveness the church and mission team made a decision to truck in purified water to the community until something could be done. A rescue operation has been put together equipped with a variety of creative tools in an attempt to repair the well. If the repair cannot be done, the church will drill a NEW well for the community because of their mistake. Sticking with it. Florence is in her 80’s and rarely traveled more than 100 miles from her small Kentucky community. She’s a great missionary. Her work quiet and powerful. It’s longevity and commitment reaches over decades to people she has never known or met. Around town local folks have realized the value of sending quality Christmas cards to Florence. And, throughout the year for special occasions she prefers bed sheets as a gift of choice. Nestling down each evening in her home in Crestwood, Kentucky she goes to work. Old Christmas cards are remade. Cut, shaped, and reassembled with messages of hope. Next to her chair are boxes to place the cards in and when filled she sends them to missionaries around the world to give out to people with whom they work. Then with hope and prayer Florence awaits correspondence that the box arrived safely. When not making Christmas cards Florence tears bed linens into long strips. Using a homemade contraption of wood she winds the strips into rolls and tucks them into more boxes in order to send to clinics where missionaries need bandages for the sick.

I caught up with her one day and as we were talking she suddenly got emotional. As the tears rolled down her cheeks she told me the source of a deep joy. Florence had just received word a box of bandages she sent had arrived at its destination. On que I expressed my celebration, too. However, was soon stopped dead in my tracks to face the limitations of my own understanding of commitment like looking in a mirror. Florence takes her work seriously. She prays for and tracks every single box sent out. She had been praying for that particular box of bandages to be released from a customs office for eight years.

Where to Wander to Next?
Mother Teresa’s personal calling was a response to Jesus cry on the cross, “I Thirst.” She spent her life attempting to “quench the thirst of Jesus.” The existence of her ministry was based on the same. In each Sisters of Charity chapel above every altar are the words, “I Thirst.”

Emerging throughout the world is a water crisis like none we’ve ever experienced. I’ve often wondered why we don’t take water ministry seriously in the church. Ordinary people can learn to use incredibly effective water tools. It doesn’t have to be left to engineers and folks with lab coats. The church can play a powerful role in saving lives and letting water share the Gospel story. If we’re doing work in developing countries, let’s consider taking along skills like water purification, well drilling, health education and hand pump repair.

But, doing mission work like this we would be forced to change the way we are “doing” missions. “Wanderlust” is long term commitment, relational, sacrificial small living and thirst quenching grace.

Let’s quite talking about our problems at home like gas prices. Let’s ask the right questions to do the mission work right. Will these gas prices diminish our passion for the Gospel to be taken into distant lands? Is our sacrificial commitment so strong that no matter what the costs are at home we will live even hungrier and more thirsty to do that which we are called to do? As the richest people on the planet, how thirstily committed are we willing to live in order to live for those who will drink water today that will make them sick tomorrow?

Mark Hogg

“Wanderlust” is usually reserved to describe the hearts of drifters, gypsies, carnies and prodigals whose passion for travel and exploration usually govern not only ones’ lifestyle but decisions and relationships, too.

Though never working the carnival nor evolving from gypsy lineage, I often hold fast to a prodigal’s heart that can call on a breeze. Wonderful possibilities are envisioned and I can quickly be off to distant lands chasing bright shiny objects if I’m not careful.

Over the last 30 years the mission work of the church has grown to epic proportions. Though with good hearts, we’ve sprinkled love like pixie dust assuming a dab is all that’s needed. Living out the gospel is difficult to do in snapshot segments. Projects of value and acceptance of culture are critical allies on the mission field but more so are long term relationships. There’s a conquering element and even an arrogance to North American culture. In a time when world wide water and hunger issues face us daily we must ask ourselves if we’ve been been feeding our own cultural and insatiable thirsts on the mission field. In these changing times shouldn’t we look back and evaluate our effectiveness with those we are called to visit and hope to satisfy a need.

In the early years “missionary” was reserved for people living in distant lands. They emerged every few years to visit churches in North America, showing carousel after carousel of slides to encourage congregations with stories of hope and wonder. Today many North American Mission Culture “missionaries” are recognized by slick brochures, conference booths and large teams of smiling faces. Our culture seems to have dictated a “mission-cation” style of short-term trip to infuse our “restless wanderers” sitting in the pews who may need a prodding.

This way of mission ministry leads to planning meetings where questions echo like, “Where are we going next year?” and “What are we doing next time?” We seek the thrill of the experience to quench our thirst for excitement. The “where” has become more important than asking “how should we go about missions.” The “what” has become more important than wondering if we should we do a project just because we can.

Do. Done. Next.
A pastor friend of mine was driving through the countryside of Ghana with a guide on a mission trip. Over the course of several hours he noticed again and again they were passing empty churches. He eventually asked the guide why there were so many churches empty and lifeless. The guide replied, “The North Americans like to come here and build churches. . .So we let them.”

Mark Hogg