September 2009


Dear Friends,

First of all, to all of you who took the time to write such thoughtful responses to last month’s letters, a big fat thank you! Your combined wisdom and encouragement—excepting a few very serious cranks among you—are the makings of a good book about coping with hard-to-love people. As for you very serious cranks, well, thanks to the others, I should have you well in hand any time now.

In the meantime, below is the copy of a letter I recently hand-delivered (and explained) to everyone in our fellowship, which signals a significant shift in our Monday night dinner plans for this year. The bottom line is that while our little core group doesn’t mind throwing the occasional ‘light and airy’ party for lots of our neighbors, we’re no longer up for doing that every week. On the contrary, we’d rather increase the relational and spiritual intensity of our fellowship, go deeper with a few, and see what happens.

You’ll see too, of course, whether or not it’s pretty. That’s what you get for giving me your e-mail address in a vulnerable moment. Next time, do what smart people do when they pass through the ‘hood: Hand the needy-looking guy some cash and keep on moving.

Keep the faith,

Bart

PS – I have been asked to reiterate that you can donate online to support our fellowship, which is conveniently registered as a 501c3 non-profit organization. Consider it done.

Dear Members and Friends of the Walnut Hills Fellowship,

If you are wondering if we will ever restart our regular Monday night dinners, the answer is yes…and no. Yes, we’ll be eating together again, beginning this coming Monday. But no, Monday night dinners won’t be exactly like they used to be. Hopefully, they’ll be better!

Last year’s Chicago trip really brought our group together, but this year things were different. While almost everybody had a great time, our relationships with one another didn’t get much stronger as a result. Instead, after the trip our fellowship seemed to be running out of gas. Maybe that’s natural, but it didn’t feel good, especially to the people working hardest to keep us together. So then, we took a break and came up with a new plan.

Beginning in September, our first Monday dinner of every month will be a kind of celebration of friendliness, where we not only get to reconnect with our familiar circle of friends, but also get to bring with us other Walnut Hills people we think might enjoy being part of that circle. It won’t be open to all comers, of course – in this neighborhood that would be totally unpredictable! Instead, those who want to come will need to RSVP for themselves and their guests by Sunday night, so the cooks know how much food to prepare.

Those first Monday dinners will be aimed at making everyone feel welcome, before, during, and after the meal. If we play games, they will be optional and fun to watch or play, but we may also bring in some musicians or a comedian once in a while, just to keep things interesting and energized. The only goal will be for us to be really positive all together, so everyone feels good about themselves and one another.

Our second, third, and fourth Monday dinners of every month, however, will be smaller, more intimate gatherings for those of us who want to deepen our relationships in order to help ourselves and each other live better lives. Instead of games and music after dinner, we will send the little ones off to child-care and settle down for some good, old-fashioned adult (or youth-level) conversation about things that matter: Parenting, the parables of Jesus, making healthy meals, being a giver even when you’re broke, and similar topics.

You shouldn’t feel bad if you don’t want to participate in that kind of conversation, but you shouldn’t RSVP to come to those dinners either, because everyone there will be expected to ‘pull their own weight,’ either by speaking up or by listening with interest. Otherwise, you can just save your appetite for those first Monday nights of each month, which will be lots of no-pressure fun.

As you all know, I love the Walnut Hills Fellowship and, as I hope you know, I love each one of you. I feel blessed to be part of a group like ours, where I can be myself without fear. My prayer is that God gives us even more life this year, by giving us even more love.

Keep the faith,

Bart

Dear Friends,

In 1958 the Teddy Bears released the song “To know him is to love him,” which might as well have been called, “To know know know him is to love love love him,” since that’s the way everybody remembers it. Either way, you get the idea: There’s this great guy out there, and the closer you get to him, the better you’re going to feel about him and, in all likelihood, the better he’s going to feel about spending time with you. After all, who doesn’t like being loved for who they really are?

Of course, there is no rule that says you can’t choose instead to get close to a lousy person, no matter how mean, lazy, stupid, violent, or unbelievably selfish he or she might be. On the contrary, there are plenty of rules saying we should do just that, in the name of Jesus. And there are plenty of stories and proverbs suggesting that when we do, wonderful things can happen. And so they do, especially early on in the relationship.

The problem is that to love love love a lousy person over a long period of time is…well, to find out just how lousy they are. It is to see for yourself, over and over again, why the rest of the world has left that person alone. In other words, in some cases, the closer you get to someone, the worse you are going to feel about them and, eventually, the worse they are going to feel about spending time with you. After all, who doesn’t hate being disdained for who they really are?

This isn’t an idle meditation on the Teddy Bears’ one and only hit. This is me trying to figure out why some folks who used to love being with me don’t want to be with me anymore, even though all I’ve done is care and help and give and forgive…and quietly lose respect for them even as they fall ever deeper into my debt. OK, so maybe I’ve already figured out why.

I know I always say this thing is more about loving people than trying to fix them, but it turns out I have been secretly hoping that if our little core group set a tone of mutual love, we would unleash the ‘inner good neighbor’ in everybody else, and a true fellowship of friends would emerge, wherein everybody genuinely cared about each other. It never occurred to me that if folks couldn’t – or just didn’t want to – start improving their lives or giving back to the group, the warmth they initially enjoyed might end up feeling like some kind of negative judgment. It never occurred to me that grace could backfire.

God, how do you keep loving people who can’t stand being known? If you pray, ask that for me.

Sincerely,

Bart Campolo