Bible Teacher. Pastor.Educator.

Transitions and Expansions!! Southside and Northside.....

                 I wanted to officially inform you all that I am stepping away from my responsibilities as a Youth pastor at New Beginnings Church on August 12, 2018. After spending two years with this organization, I have had the opportunity to learn so much about myself, inner city ministry, and strategies for reaching unchurched teenagers. When the Lord called me to move to Chicago I know that being a part of New Beginnings Church was definitely a part of His plan.

It has become a home away from home and the kindness that I experienced there when I arrived is exactly what I needed for that season in my life
                  That being stated, a lot of evolving has taken place within myself this year and I as I prayed for God to show me the next steps, He opened the doors for me to extend my ministry to the North Side of Chicago! After much prayer, I have accepted a position at North Side Gospel Center as their Associate Pastor of Evangelism and Outreach! I have also accepted a position to serve with the non profit organization, Slingshots, as their Assistant Director. Both of these opportunities will be under the leadership of my long time friend and mentor, Bob Anderson. I was unsure about these moves initially because it will be such a huge change in my life, however I realize it is a chance to grow in my leadership and it gives me a broader audience of teengers to reach. 

           Even though my primary church will now be on the North side of Chicago, I will be continuing to facilitate club events and do ministry work with Youth for Christ on the Southside! This new transition is the Lord’s way of enlarging my territory and blessing me with the responsibility of working on both sides of the greater Chicago area! I am excited about God’s Will for my life and I have to follow His directions. There were parts of me that were hesitant, but I know that just as I was blessed at New Beginnings, I will be blessed at North Side Gospel Center.Please keep me and both churches in your prayers! I greatly appreciate you all! 

Respectfully 

Pastor James Owolabi! 

 

Cherish Your Heritage! Reflections on going back to Home to Nigeria.#1 of 5

After returning back to my home in Nigeria I was immersed in a culture that was all to familiar and simultaneously foreign. 20 years is a long time to be gone from a place that used to be all I knew. I hope that the new knowledge I will be sharing impacts your life and enhances you as a person.

One of the first things I noticed after returning to Nigeria was how westernized everything has become. The native people of Africa are now wearing more western styled clothing in place of the traditional African patterns, they are also speaking english regularly and have even adapted to using American figures of speech. Even though the electricity was inconsistent, the weather is different and of course the infrastructure of roads has still not come up to North American standards, the country was heavily laced with westernized values.

Having spent more time as an adult in America than my upbringing in Africa, I’m so grateful to understand my native language and it felt amazing to communicate in my native tongue. It honestly disappointed me to see the increased pursuit of western culture was causing Nigerians to start to losing their roots. It was striking to meet kids who are Nigerian citizens with two Nigerian parents that only know English!

 

As people who are African, Korean, or any ethnicity -- we need to remember that our ethnic heritage is special. We should never be afraid, ashamed or embarrassed about our roots. Every culture has it’s pitfall and highlights, Yoruba culture for example is very petty on its respect for authority and how we communicate between age groups. It can be especially cringe worthy pertaining how we depict roles in marriage; relationships between husband and wife in Nigeria can consistently be found as abusive or insensitive to the needs of women. Contrasting hashly to white American culture that can be easily misunderstood as making men feel passive or encouraging passivity in the household. Every culture has its extreme nature and patterns. The most important thing to remember is that your culture, whatever it may be,  is a gift from God. Our languages, skin tones, origins, and identity determinants are all gifts from God. We should never worship our culture, but we should treasure it and cherish it.

 

What does it mean to cherish our culture?

A healthy way of cherishing our culture is simply respecting it, remaining grateful, sharing parts of it with others, and passing on the stories of our ancestry. Our ancestors and the components that make our respective countries unique deserve celebration. The Lord has made the body of Christ in a beautiful gradient of skin tones, hair textures, and languages for divine reasons. Generations to come should still have pieces of the past running through their veins.

 

What does it mean to treasure our culture?

A healthy way of treasuring our culture is teaching our children their native language, maintaining our traditional clothing styles, and keeping certain customs alive. Even though technology is advancing and global communication is improving we should not start to simulate to one plain world. Keep your culture alive and cherish it in a way that would honor the people who came before you.

• Remember to always worship God for your heritage and the heritages of others
• Find other cultures that have a better style in terms of communication, common practices, or quality of life we should embrace the knowledge, but not adapt to a level in which we are not recognizable.
• Respect other cultures .No culture is perfect and no culture should be worshipped, but they are all valuable to the Kingdom of God.

 

Each heritage is equal and loved in the Lord’s eyes, so keep that spirit of inclusivity in your heart.

Respectfully,

Pastor James Owolabi

 

learning my lines. . .: Crossing The Line With Ellen Degeneres. . . .

To be honest, you feel like a killjoy when you start to question stuff like this. But we still need to stand back and ask the hard questions. Did Ellen cross a line? Did the parents cross a line? Do we cross a line when we ignore what's really going on to enjoy the cuteness of a couple of little kids, justifying it all by saying, "Come on, they're only little kids"? Do we allow our emotions to trump responsible thinking and critique? I'm afraid we're losing our ability to think critically and Christianly about all of life, a reality which requires us to recapture and relearn skills that evidence discipleship of the mind.

I took some time to think more intentionally about this whole thing. I wrote up a 2-page 3(D) review of these videos of Sophia Grace with Nicki Minaj for our latest edition of ENGAGE. You can download the pdf of my review here. Use it to provoke your own thought. If you're a parent, talk about it with your kids. If you're a youth worker, spend an entire evening looking at, talking about, and thinking through the video clips.

After you read it, I want to know. . . Am I over-reacting? Should we be concerned? Is this evidence of deeper issues in our culture? If so, what are those issues? What do you think?

via learningmylines.blogspot.com

Welcome to the Wild Wealthy West, We use people to get stuff!!!

Thoughts about Black Friday:
• Do I use people to get stuff?
• Will my friends be my friends if they never gave me anything again but a nice conversation?
• Are we better than brutal dictators who kill for power when we trample a pregnant woman and a man to buy stuff?
• Are people more important than what I want?
• Do I really need a new phone or a new shirt?
• Why do I buy things that I do not need to impress people who act like they don’t need me?
• Is there a difference between things I need and things I want?
• Is Christmas really about giving gifts that people need or the satisfaction I receive from making people happy?
• When will my longing for stuff be satisfied?
Read the article below and let me know...

"This Black Friday has been marked by disaster as a Wal-Mart employee was trampled to death by the crowd of savage shoppers, hurrying to get their hands on the different displayed products that were on sale.

Black Friday is the Friday that immediately follows Thanksgiving and though it‘s not an official holyday, it represents the start of the winter shopping season and it’s the day when people start putting up their Christmas decorations. Black Friday is a merchant’s heaven as many people go into some sort of a shopping spree and most employers give the day off.

Unfortunately, some people don’t know the difference between being excited about something and acting like a mindless crowd of savages. The identity of the Wal-Mart employee was not made public and the shop’s owners were not available for comment.

This points out to the kind of world we are living in and it gives a totally different meaning to the word consumerism. The Wal-Mart employee was just 34 years old and he was unfortunate enough to be in front of the crowd of shoppers who ripped the store’s doors from the hinges this morning. People there declared that the crowd was so powerful that several people were injured, a pregnant woman was knocked down and parents had to hold really tight to their children in order to protect them.

Black Friday is the day when shopping is the main activity of most people as discounts are everywhere and, usually, companies make offers that are hard to say no to, but actually causing someone’s death to get your hands on some cheaper product seems tasteless and grotesque" -By Davie Barret 19:26, November 28th 2008.
© 2007 - 2008 - eFluxMedia

God, Please, Bless Africa!!!!!

child's scream in a Kenya shack By Sue Sprenkle Jun 3, 2008

Sue Sprenkle EDITOR'S NOTE: Sue Sprenkle, the International Mission Board's overseas correspondent for Africa, has reported from that continent for the last 10 years. She remains haunted by the atrocities she witnessed during Kenya's post-election violence earlier this year – and continues to wonder about the fate of one little boy. Warning: contains graphic content. NAIROBI, Kenya (BP)--An ocean of sticks, clubs and machetes wave to the low, rhythmic chants of Kenyan youths. Nearly 100 gather to protest the fate of their country in a small slum in Nairobi. A few hundred yards away, government forces dressed in protective gear form a line to keep them from advancing -- riot shields raised, guns and tear gas bombs poised. A water cannon truck moves into position. Chants of "No justice, no peace!" grow in volume. The mantra steadily gains power. Stones start to fly. Youths in the front line try to advance through milky gray clouds of tear gas while the rest break ranks and run down three-foot-wide paths between shacks, eyes bloodshot, filled with anger, looking to wreak havoc on anyone who is not a member of their tribe. Police chase after them, but it's useless. There's no way to keep up with the spreading frenzy. Screams echo from every direction as people are pulled from their homes and savagely beaten. People run screaming, desperately searching for safety. In chaos like this, it is difficult to differentiate one scream from another -– but today is different. I hear a piercing wail octaves above the others. I put away my notebook and camera and follow the sound. I step over makeshift barricades, walk through the black tar smoke of burning tires and jump over open sewage. Rioting youths run past, raising their pangas (machetes) and rungus (clubs) to the sky in triumph. They want their picture taken and strike a pose reminiscent of conquering heroes. I ignore them. I am focused on finding the source of the heart-wrenching sound. I am closer, but run into another group of youths looting and pulling apart meager slum dwellings. It's not difficult. Walls of thin, corrugated metal are knocked over with a couple blows. They tire of this and set the homes on fire. There's dancing and singing and celebration. The scream gets louder and more intense. I cover my ears. I don't want to go on. Something inside me warns against finding the source of this sound, but it pierces my soul. I continue on. Feet sprawl from the door of a smoking, tattered shack. An older youth ahead on the path looks at me. He smirks, then kisses a bloody panga before raising it in the air. I know what just happened. Another blood-curdling scream brings my attention back to the shack. I take a deep breath and step inside. Someone must still be alive. On the floor is a young woman. Blood oozes from a gash in her head and pools on the dirt floor around her. A toddler stands next to his dead mother. Tears drop from his round cheeks and splash in his mother's blood. He runs to the only chair not overturned in the ransacked house. He crawls up on it and turns his back to me -— as if hiding -— and continues to scream. I look up and down the smoke-filled path to find help, but everyone has fled. I step over the mother's body and into the blood. The closer I get to the toddler, the louder he screams. I know I scare him, but I have to get him to safety. I pick him up. He kicks and hits me. He screams in my ear. It's the scream that drew me here. Months later, the toddler's cry and other sounds of terror still haunt my sleep. I wake up wondering what happened to him. I wonder if he still sees the attacker as I do when my eyes are closed. I wonder if he survived the internally displaced persons (IDP) camp I took him to. My mind constantly plays the "what if" game. What if I had followed the sound just a few minutes earlier? What if I had not stopped to take a picture en route? Would the mother still be alive? What if I had brought the toddler home with me? What if he ends up on the street or in an orphanage because no one claims him? I can never answer these questions. It is Christ's love that draws us to these things. I close my eyes and hear his haunting scream once again. On some level, I never want to forget that sound. --30-- © Copyright 2008 Baptist Press