Tinsley, our almost-five-year-old, has become the resident meal pray-er. I think it's mostly because she's so darn cute and fun to listen to. We've gone through our fair share of "interesting prayers," and it becomes a great springboard for conversation afterward.
Recently, she has been in a rut. And it is an odd little prayer. There is some (minor) variance to the wording and word placement, but this is the general form:
"Dear God, I pray we have a super-great day. I pray we never give up and never get down. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen."
Now, before you label me as a terrible father and a worse theologian, I want you to know that we have no idea where she got this prayer. We tend to blame one or more of her teachers at school, but that's only because we can't imagine where else she could have gotten it. And, of course, she's not telling.
Of the prayers she's prayed since the days of mimicking her older sisters, this one has had the longest shelf-life by far -- especially the "super-great day" part.
I'm not sure what response we are supposed to have to "public prayer," but I'm pretty sure that one of the responses we should have to any corporate prayer is that of reflection. So, after hearing the prayer a couple (hundred) times, I stopped to reflect on what T was saying. About that time, Wendy said to me, "You know what? It's actually a pretty good prayer." To which I responded, "That's what I've been thinking." As soon as I realized my wife and I agreed on something, I knew we had discovered deep, deep truth.
Now, before we get into what the prayer is, let's chat for a brief minute about what it is not. It is certainly not a long prayer. For some, that is a negative. For others, that is a huge positive -- especially when said with a warm dinner just beneath the nose. It is not an outwardly-focused prayer. No sicknesses or veiled gossip or lost people mentioned at all. It is also not a global prayer. There is no mention of kids who will have nothing to eat that day -- either in Lubbock or in Africa. It is not a deep prayer. (But it's also prayed by a 4-year-old, with no coaching from her parents and older siblings.)
It IS a horribly self-centered prayer, I will grant you that. Outside of the most popular duo of the Trinity, the only people it mentions is, well, us. But if we were to analyze our own prayers, aren't they mostly self-oriented as well? Prayers for sick people are prayers for sick people who are OUR friends, or at least friends of our friends. Prayers for people making poor life decisions are prayers of manipulation to get them to see our version of right and wrong. And if we were brutally honest with one another, most of our time in prayer is asking for things we want for our own sake.
So, if we're praying selfish prayers anyway, why not make it sound something like the T prayer?
Think about what T's asking for in this prayer. She is praying that her family (the "we" of the prayer) has a super-great day. What a beautiful sentiment! And I don't know about you, but when I DO have one of those rare super-great days, I want to have another one as soon as possible! And if we draw that out, super-great days cluster into super-great weeks, which make up super-great years, and before we know it, we've lived a super-great life. Who among us wouldn't love for people to say about us that we lived a super-great life?!
She's also praying that we never give up. Prayers for perseverance pepper the Psalms. ("Strengthen me according to your word." - Psalm 119:28; "Deliver me from my enemies, O God; be my fortress against those who are attacking me." - Psalm 59:1). Perseverance doesn't negate the reality of difficulty, but it causes us to overcome. Every four years at the Olympics the networks go to great lengths to highlight those athletes who have overcome some sort of adversity. Perseverance is one of those qualities that we all want to have.
Finally, she prays that we never get down. Whereas perseverance is more of a physical thing, this is a prayer for mental and emotional victory. One of our greatest enemies is our own broken psyche. We talk ourselves into defeat much more often than we actually get defeated. We talk ourselves out of great victories before we ever get started. We mistreat people around us because we are down -- on ourselves, on our friends, on our families, on our country. Staying positive is one of the most important aspects of a life well-lived. No one wants to be around the "woe is me" person. Everybody wants to be around the person who exudes positivity.
We could easily use bigger words and more words to make this prayer sound more like we're used to hearing prayers sound. But isn't one of the purposes of prayer to bring our heart's desires before our Creator and actually expect Him to do something about it? Let me tell you something. Tinsley has probably had more super-great days in her last two years than I've had in 37. She also is one of the most positive, creative, and self-confident little humans I have ever met. Now I admit, it could be because she's 4 years old.
Or it could be because God is hearing and answering her simple prayer.
My prayer for you -- May the God of the universe grant you a super-great day. May you never give up. May you never get down. In Jesus' powerful name I pray this for you. Amen.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
A day of remembrance . . .
One year ago today, our family experienced its greatest day of loss. We were expecting our first son to go along with three wonderful girls. It had been a trying pregnancy -- we spent a night in the ER with a torn placenta, thinking we had lost him. Wendy was on bed rest to try and get the placenta to heal, which made things difficult around the house. On the evening of August 19th, after a wedding rehearsal I was performing for two dear friends, we came home to get the girls ready for bed. Faith (our then-8-year-old) came hollering for me through the house, telling me that Wendy needed me.
We didn't know it at the time (well, we probably DID know it, but didn't WANT to know it) but Wendy's water had broken. At 17 weeks. We called a sitter over, loaded up in the car, and headed to triage. A friend flagged us down on the way and jumped in the car with us. When we got to the hospital (they put us right into a birthing room -- should have been our second clue), there was no heartbeat. For whatever reason, Wendy's body had gone into labor. At 17 weeks. She delivered Warner Josiah a few hours later. He was 5 ounces, perfectly formed, and fit in the palm of my hand. I remember being completely worthless to Wendy during the delivery. I just couldn't look. I sat in a chair in the delivery room and just stared straight ahead.
Once he was born, we began to have to do all kinds of things we never thought we'd do. They asked us if we wanted to hold him. They asked us what kind of casket we wanted for him. They asked us if we wanted to have him buried with other stillbirths or of we wanted him in a place of his own. We had to go and sit at a funeral home and talk about arrangements. We had to buy a plot of land in a cemetery. We had to decide which grave marker we wanted for him. We had to make arrangements for a memorial. We had to ask one of our dear friends to perform the memorial -- something only a true friend or a complete stranger would ever do for someone.
We weren't sure we were going to try again for another child. We had three wonderful girls and the stillbirth had been a difficult turn of events. For a while after Warner's birth, I could hear Wendy lying in bed sobbing as she held her now-empty womb.
I don't know that we ever had a formal discussion about it, but we eventually decided to try again. If you've met our four-year-old, Tinsley, you know that the LAST thing she needs is to be a part-time only child. The girl needed a sibling. So we were excited when we found out we were pregnant again. Excited, but cautious. When we found out we were having another boy, we were delighted. Delighted, but apprehensive. When we got past the 17-week mark where we had lost Warner, we were relieved. Relieved, but anxious.
I don't know that Wendy and I really believed it was going to turn out well until last Saturday. At 4:53pm, we welcomed Blanton Caleb Drake into our family. A healthy 7 pound, 7 ounce baby boy. At 21 inches long, he might be able to be something other than a point guard on the basketball team. Up until the time he came out, I don't think Wendy and I were sure that this would work. But he is healthy, has a great appetite, and is doing amazingly well. We are blessed.
But today was the one-year anniversary of Warner's death. We have this little community of people that we call "church" that meets in our home every once in a while. Since we don't really have a set "church schedule" (which is GLORIOUS, by the way), we decided that the Drakes were going to have church out at Warner's grave. And we invited our community to join us. And they did. Thirteen of us stood and sat around a grave, reading Scriptures about confusion and loss, about redemption and restoration. We sang songs about a God who knows what it is like to experience the loss of a Child. We cried tears of hurt and tears of confusion. We took communion together as a family. We took pictures of our little family of seven. We took pictures of our church family gathered to celebrate redemption.
Redemption's a strange thing. When something is redeemed, it doesn't mean that the pain of the first experience is taken away. It doesn't mean that all (or any?) of the questions are answered. It doesn't give us back Warner. But redemption is a beautiful thing. It's a healing thing. It's a powerful thing.
And it's going on all around us, if only we're willing to see it. Even (especially?) on the anniversary of our darkest day.
We didn't know it at the time (well, we probably DID know it, but didn't WANT to know it) but Wendy's water had broken. At 17 weeks. We called a sitter over, loaded up in the car, and headed to triage. A friend flagged us down on the way and jumped in the car with us. When we got to the hospital (they put us right into a birthing room -- should have been our second clue), there was no heartbeat. For whatever reason, Wendy's body had gone into labor. At 17 weeks. She delivered Warner Josiah a few hours later. He was 5 ounces, perfectly formed, and fit in the palm of my hand. I remember being completely worthless to Wendy during the delivery. I just couldn't look. I sat in a chair in the delivery room and just stared straight ahead.
Once he was born, we began to have to do all kinds of things we never thought we'd do. They asked us if we wanted to hold him. They asked us what kind of casket we wanted for him. They asked us if we wanted to have him buried with other stillbirths or of we wanted him in a place of his own. We had to go and sit at a funeral home and talk about arrangements. We had to buy a plot of land in a cemetery. We had to decide which grave marker we wanted for him. We had to make arrangements for a memorial. We had to ask one of our dear friends to perform the memorial -- something only a true friend or a complete stranger would ever do for someone.
We weren't sure we were going to try again for another child. We had three wonderful girls and the stillbirth had been a difficult turn of events. For a while after Warner's birth, I could hear Wendy lying in bed sobbing as she held her now-empty womb.
I don't know that we ever had a formal discussion about it, but we eventually decided to try again. If you've met our four-year-old, Tinsley, you know that the LAST thing she needs is to be a part-time only child. The girl needed a sibling. So we were excited when we found out we were pregnant again. Excited, but cautious. When we found out we were having another boy, we were delighted. Delighted, but apprehensive. When we got past the 17-week mark where we had lost Warner, we were relieved. Relieved, but anxious.
I don't know that Wendy and I really believed it was going to turn out well until last Saturday. At 4:53pm, we welcomed Blanton Caleb Drake into our family. A healthy 7 pound, 7 ounce baby boy. At 21 inches long, he might be able to be something other than a point guard on the basketball team. Up until the time he came out, I don't think Wendy and I were sure that this would work. But he is healthy, has a great appetite, and is doing amazingly well. We are blessed.
But today was the one-year anniversary of Warner's death. We have this little community of people that we call "church" that meets in our home every once in a while. Since we don't really have a set "church schedule" (which is GLORIOUS, by the way), we decided that the Drakes were going to have church out at Warner's grave. And we invited our community to join us. And they did. Thirteen of us stood and sat around a grave, reading Scriptures about confusion and loss, about redemption and restoration. We sang songs about a God who knows what it is like to experience the loss of a Child. We cried tears of hurt and tears of confusion. We took communion together as a family. We took pictures of our little family of seven. We took pictures of our church family gathered to celebrate redemption.
Redemption's a strange thing. When something is redeemed, it doesn't mean that the pain of the first experience is taken away. It doesn't mean that all (or any?) of the questions are answered. It doesn't give us back Warner. But redemption is a beautiful thing. It's a healing thing. It's a powerful thing.
And it's going on all around us, if only we're willing to see it. Even (especially?) on the anniversary of our darkest day.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
New jobs and such
I began a new job this week. As of yesterday, I am the Volunteer Coordinator for Accolade Hospice here in Lubbock. This will be my first non-church career, so it's been quite an adjustment already. Like any job in the medical field, most of this week will be training videos and reading, which makes for thrilling days. But I love the organization that I am working for and get the sense that they believe that I'm the right person for the job, so I'm excited about where this may be going. I really feel like I'm working with a great team of people.
In addition to watching the standard training videos this week, there is also a national volunteer conference for people in my position. So, I have watched a couple of these conference webinars in an attempt to better understand what it is that I am supposed to be doing. Yesterday I watched a seminar on how to approach faith communities about volunteering with a hospice organization. While the webinar is going on, there is a chat window where people can interact and ask questions based on what the speaker was covering.
It was pretty astounding to watch what people's perceptions of churches are. Comments like, "I approached one pastor who asked me why he would let me try to drum up volunteers for my organization when they won't even volunteer for children's ministry." Or "Pastors don't want anyone that can't help out their church." Or "One pastor asked me how much money I wanted. When I said I didn't want any, he told me that they couldn't help me." Over and over again the comments painted a church that was only concerned about itself and what was needed to keep the machine of church running.
It really saddened me, because I think the vision that Jesus had (and has) for his church is so much larger. You can argue with me if you would like (that's what the comment section below is for), but I believe that Jesus expects no less from his church than the redemption of the world. Pretty major vision. Or, as my Twitter friend Bob Goff says it, "God's plan for the world is as simple as it is inexplicable: It's us." When all the world sees in us is that we only care for ourselves, our people, our programs, something has gone terribly wrong.
Something has gone terribly wrong.
Monday, July 16, 2012
softball ministry
This past weekend I got the opportunity to spend a bunch of time with my 9-year-old, Faith, at a softball All-Star tournament. We got up early on Thursday morning and drove three hours south to San Angelo for a weekend of softball. It seemed like all of West Texas and part of New Mexico descended on the town for a softball extravaganza. Every hotel room in the town was booked and they were even housing people at Angelo State University. It was crazy!
As far as softball goes, it was a good weekend. We had a great team of 12 girls, ages 7-9, and an amazing group of parents! We ended up going 3-3 on the weekend and got eliminated in a game where the ball just didn't bounce our way. It was a great introduction to competitive softball for both Faith as a player and for me as a coach.
It was also a good opportunity for me to spend some quality time with my 9-year-old. We ate junk food and watched Disney Channel and hung out all weekend. Wendy (my wife) and I decided that this summer would be a good opportunity for me to spend some one-on-one time with each of the girls before their little brother comes next month, so this was my time with Faith. And we had a blast!
But I think that my favorite time of the weekend was a 2-hour late lunch with the team's head coach and his wife. After our elimination game, we hung around the complex and watched a great game between two of the other Lubbock teams. Then we went to lunch at Schlotzsky's and really had our first chance to have an in-depth conversation.
I've been coaching with this guy for two years now and have a great respect for him -- the way he looks at softball and the way he looks at life. He is in the process of raising three young ladies, all of whom play softball and all of whom are pretty amazing girls. In these two years, we've never really had a chance to just sit and chat. In this lunch convo, we talked about Jesus and church, softball and coaching, parenting and broken homes. I got a chance to get to know who he is on a different level. It really was a blessed conversation.
What struck me most about the conversation was the affirmation of what has been going on in my heart recently -- the notion that ministry is all around us if we only have the eyes to see the possibilities. Every girl that I coach in softball or basketball, every parent that I interact with, every opposing team that I talk to and play against is a chance to show the love of Christ. For some of these girls that played on this All-Star team, this will be my only interaction that I have with her and her parents. Have I made a positive contribution to who they are as unique children of God or has my contribution been less than it should be?
I may never again bear the title of Pastor, but that doesn't get me off the hook of shepherding people. As a matter of fact, it looks like I'll have MORE opportunities to pastor now that I've lost that title.
As far as softball goes, it was a good weekend. We had a great team of 12 girls, ages 7-9, and an amazing group of parents! We ended up going 3-3 on the weekend and got eliminated in a game where the ball just didn't bounce our way. It was a great introduction to competitive softball for both Faith as a player and for me as a coach.
It was also a good opportunity for me to spend some quality time with my 9-year-old. We ate junk food and watched Disney Channel and hung out all weekend. Wendy (my wife) and I decided that this summer would be a good opportunity for me to spend some one-on-one time with each of the girls before their little brother comes next month, so this was my time with Faith. And we had a blast!
But I think that my favorite time of the weekend was a 2-hour late lunch with the team's head coach and his wife. After our elimination game, we hung around the complex and watched a great game between two of the other Lubbock teams. Then we went to lunch at Schlotzsky's and really had our first chance to have an in-depth conversation.
I've been coaching with this guy for two years now and have a great respect for him -- the way he looks at softball and the way he looks at life. He is in the process of raising three young ladies, all of whom play softball and all of whom are pretty amazing girls. In these two years, we've never really had a chance to just sit and chat. In this lunch convo, we talked about Jesus and church, softball and coaching, parenting and broken homes. I got a chance to get to know who he is on a different level. It really was a blessed conversation.
What struck me most about the conversation was the affirmation of what has been going on in my heart recently -- the notion that ministry is all around us if we only have the eyes to see the possibilities. Every girl that I coach in softball or basketball, every parent that I interact with, every opposing team that I talk to and play against is a chance to show the love of Christ. For some of these girls that played on this All-Star team, this will be my only interaction that I have with her and her parents. Have I made a positive contribution to who they are as unique children of God or has my contribution been less than it should be?
I may never again bear the title of Pastor, but that doesn't get me off the hook of shepherding people. As a matter of fact, it looks like I'll have MORE opportunities to pastor now that I've lost that title.
Friday, July 6, 2012
reflections from a long break
It has been two months since I wrote anything in this blog. Apologies. Life has been hectic and confusing and out-of-round. But people with lives much more hectic find the mindspace to contribute to the conversation in their "spare time", so I thought I should probably try my hand at it again.
I think one of my primary problems with faithful blogging is that I feel like I have to have something profound and verbose to say. The reality is that a lot of the people that I follow on blogs and twitter and the like just post some thoughts or even just link to others' thoughts.
I have had a couple of days to reflect on life and church and family and employment and kingdom and I think I'm even more confused than when I started. Those reflections are probably better left for another time and another place (3 pm in a Market Street coffeeshop seems a little too impersonal for some old-fashioned soul baring).
But as I look at the little community that God has entrusted to me and I balance that with the person that God has created me to be, I feel like I have abdicated some of my responsibilities to them. I'm not sure exactly what I mean by that, but I can't help feeling that I need some more intentionality and discipline in order to lead in the way I have been gifted. So, while blogging is a small thing, maybe it's the gateway drug to deeper discipline.
Since there's very little profound or verbose in my blogging today, I thought I could introduce some of you to one of my mentors, a theologian named Alan Hirsch, author of several books on missional church and one of the foremost thinkers in this missional conversation. Here is one of his recent blog posts. Enjoy!
http://www.thehousestudio.com/2012/christ-must-be-everything/
I think one of my primary problems with faithful blogging is that I feel like I have to have something profound and verbose to say. The reality is that a lot of the people that I follow on blogs and twitter and the like just post some thoughts or even just link to others' thoughts.
I have had a couple of days to reflect on life and church and family and employment and kingdom and I think I'm even more confused than when I started. Those reflections are probably better left for another time and another place (3 pm in a Market Street coffeeshop seems a little too impersonal for some old-fashioned soul baring).
But as I look at the little community that God has entrusted to me and I balance that with the person that God has created me to be, I feel like I have abdicated some of my responsibilities to them. I'm not sure exactly what I mean by that, but I can't help feeling that I need some more intentionality and discipline in order to lead in the way I have been gifted. So, while blogging is a small thing, maybe it's the gateway drug to deeper discipline.
Since there's very little profound or verbose in my blogging today, I thought I could introduce some of you to one of my mentors, a theologian named Alan Hirsch, author of several books on missional church and one of the foremost thinkers in this missional conversation. Here is one of his recent blog posts. Enjoy!
http://www.thehousestudio.com/2012/christ-must-be-everything/
Sunday, May 6, 2012
A Confession
I got really angry today. Not the kind of angry that causes me to yell at an umpire (that was two weeks ago) or the kind that causes me to take a long walk talking to myself the whole way, but the kind that makes you think you are about to do something irrational. The kind that makes your blood boil. The kind that makes you want to punch someone in the face. And my anger was directed toward a group of Christians.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. This week I have been reading "Barefoot Church" by Brandon Hatmaker, pastor of Austin New Church in Austin, TX. (I would highly recommend that you follow him on Twitter, if you don't already @brandonhatmaker). I had just finished the chapter on partnering with non-profits in his book (that chapter alone is worth the price of the book, especially since I found it for $3 at Mardel). In this chapter he lays out for us just why most non-profits are hesitant to partner with churches. Among the reasons? We come with our own agendas. We think we know better than the experts. We show up once and then disappear. Etc. Hatmaker is incredibly generous toward the established church while still making his point that much is wrong with the church, especially when it comes to serving others. It has been an enlightening read and my plan is to finish the book tonight. Or tomorrow.
So this notion that the church does a great job of imposing our agenda on others' lives is fresh in my mind when I see this thing that makes me angry. The kind of anger that makes your blood boil. The kind that makes you want to do something irrational. THAT kind of anger.
But before I get to that, I need to tell you a little cultural phenomenon that takes place every week in Lubbock. I am not sure the backstory on this practice (if only I had access to unlimited information via the Interweb, I would look it up . . .), but every Sunday, several of our prominent street corners get taken over by homeless friends with newspapers. Our local paper, the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal, has a deal with the homeless community here where the men (mostly--there may be a woman or two around town) sell the Saturday and Sunday newspaper together for $2. When cars stop at the light, these homeless friends are there with their sign and their stack of papers. My understanding is that they are out there until all of their papers are sold. And they have a buuuuuuuuunch of papers to sell. The Raintree children's ministry has stopped by several times to drop off bottled water and powerade to the guys out in the heat, so some of our friends have relationships with some of these guys. They are out in the heat/rain/cold/wind all day, until those papers are sold.
And today was hot. We were pushing 100 degrees today in Lubbock when I saw this thing that made me angry. A blood-boiling, do-something-irrational kind of angry. I had just dropped my girls off at a birthday party and was heading home. As I exited the loop at Indiana, I came up on two of these homeless men selling papers. And there it was -- a group of Christians (I would assume) surrounding one of these men with eyes closed and hands held together. There they were, praying for this man. And I got so angry. Not because they were praying for him. But because there they were, in the 100-degree heat, taking time out of this guy's work day to pray for him in the middle of Loop and Indiana traffic. The stack of papers that the man still had to sell was at least 2 feet high, and it was almost 4:00 in the afternoon. The traffic was stopped because it was a red light, meaning that this guy could have been selling one or two or three of those papers, which would have meant that he could have finished up his work two or three minutes sooner than he did.
I almost pulled my car over to where they were praying and laid on my horn. But that would have been irrational. All the way down Indiana, I was looking in my rearview mirror and swearing under my breath, which was the blood boiling. Why such a reaction, you might ask? This man was doing his job. It wasn't much, but it was something. And this group of Christians, desiring to make themselves feel good/look good/be able to sleep at night, came by to pray for this man, clueless as to his needs. Why not first grab four or five papers apiece and head out into traffic? The sooner this guy were to get those papers sold, the sooner he could have gotten on with his day. And after you help him sell his papers, why not take him to dinner? Maybe to a place like Furr's where he could choose what he ate instead of having to eat what the soup kitchen was serving? Take a minute to hear his story over a meal, pray for him there, in the privacy of a restaurant. Could you imagine a group of Christians in the express checkout lane at Wal-Mart deciding that they wanted to pray for the cashier for 5 minutes? Every other person in line would be hollering and pointing and threatening! But we can do that because this is just a homeless guy, and he's just selling papers? He's doing his job. I was angry!
But, in case you've forgotten, this post is entitled "A Confession." This post doesn't sound very confessional. Confrontational, yes. But not confessional. When do we get to THAT? Well, in the midst of my driving, cursing, fuming down Indiana Avenue, I realized something. Yes, it was a selfish approach to helping this man. Yes, it was an approach that seemed to care very little about what the man's real needs were. And yes, it will probably be a one-time event in the lives of those brothers and sisters. But it might be more. There might be a backstory that even I can't imagine, and who am I to judge them? But more than that, despite the misguided nature of their service, at least they were doing something. I didn't even stop to buy a paper. Shame on me.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. This week I have been reading "Barefoot Church" by Brandon Hatmaker, pastor of Austin New Church in Austin, TX. (I would highly recommend that you follow him on Twitter, if you don't already @brandonhatmaker). I had just finished the chapter on partnering with non-profits in his book (that chapter alone is worth the price of the book, especially since I found it for $3 at Mardel). In this chapter he lays out for us just why most non-profits are hesitant to partner with churches. Among the reasons? We come with our own agendas. We think we know better than the experts. We show up once and then disappear. Etc. Hatmaker is incredibly generous toward the established church while still making his point that much is wrong with the church, especially when it comes to serving others. It has been an enlightening read and my plan is to finish the book tonight. Or tomorrow.
So this notion that the church does a great job of imposing our agenda on others' lives is fresh in my mind when I see this thing that makes me angry. The kind of anger that makes your blood boil. The kind that makes you want to do something irrational. THAT kind of anger.
But before I get to that, I need to tell you a little cultural phenomenon that takes place every week in Lubbock. I am not sure the backstory on this practice (if only I had access to unlimited information via the Interweb, I would look it up . . .), but every Sunday, several of our prominent street corners get taken over by homeless friends with newspapers. Our local paper, the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal, has a deal with the homeless community here where the men (mostly--there may be a woman or two around town) sell the Saturday and Sunday newspaper together for $2. When cars stop at the light, these homeless friends are there with their sign and their stack of papers. My understanding is that they are out there until all of their papers are sold. And they have a buuuuuuuuunch of papers to sell. The Raintree children's ministry has stopped by several times to drop off bottled water and powerade to the guys out in the heat, so some of our friends have relationships with some of these guys. They are out in the heat/rain/cold/wind all day, until those papers are sold.
And today was hot. We were pushing 100 degrees today in Lubbock when I saw this thing that made me angry. A blood-boiling, do-something-irrational kind of angry. I had just dropped my girls off at a birthday party and was heading home. As I exited the loop at Indiana, I came up on two of these homeless men selling papers. And there it was -- a group of Christians (I would assume) surrounding one of these men with eyes closed and hands held together. There they were, praying for this man. And I got so angry. Not because they were praying for him. But because there they were, in the 100-degree heat, taking time out of this guy's work day to pray for him in the middle of Loop and Indiana traffic. The stack of papers that the man still had to sell was at least 2 feet high, and it was almost 4:00 in the afternoon. The traffic was stopped because it was a red light, meaning that this guy could have been selling one or two or three of those papers, which would have meant that he could have finished up his work two or three minutes sooner than he did.
I almost pulled my car over to where they were praying and laid on my horn. But that would have been irrational. All the way down Indiana, I was looking in my rearview mirror and swearing under my breath, which was the blood boiling. Why such a reaction, you might ask? This man was doing his job. It wasn't much, but it was something. And this group of Christians, desiring to make themselves feel good/look good/be able to sleep at night, came by to pray for this man, clueless as to his needs. Why not first grab four or five papers apiece and head out into traffic? The sooner this guy were to get those papers sold, the sooner he could have gotten on with his day. And after you help him sell his papers, why not take him to dinner? Maybe to a place like Furr's where he could choose what he ate instead of having to eat what the soup kitchen was serving? Take a minute to hear his story over a meal, pray for him there, in the privacy of a restaurant. Could you imagine a group of Christians in the express checkout lane at Wal-Mart deciding that they wanted to pray for the cashier for 5 minutes? Every other person in line would be hollering and pointing and threatening! But we can do that because this is just a homeless guy, and he's just selling papers? He's doing his job. I was angry!
But, in case you've forgotten, this post is entitled "A Confession." This post doesn't sound very confessional. Confrontational, yes. But not confessional. When do we get to THAT? Well, in the midst of my driving, cursing, fuming down Indiana Avenue, I realized something. Yes, it was a selfish approach to helping this man. Yes, it was an approach that seemed to care very little about what the man's real needs were. And yes, it will probably be a one-time event in the lives of those brothers and sisters. But it might be more. There might be a backstory that even I can't imagine, and who am I to judge them? But more than that, despite the misguided nature of their service, at least they were doing something. I didn't even stop to buy a paper. Shame on me.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Book Review, The Road to Missional, by Michael Frost
One of the things that I am having the hardest time balancing in the midst of this transition is finding time to read. With the pressure of providing for a family in the midst of trying to find a more consistent job (t-shirts are great, but intermittent), the thing that gets pushed aside is the reading. But I am realizing that, as we embark on this missional journey, the only way that I am going to get answers for our little community is by reading about what people much smarter than me are thinking and doing. And since I suck at retaining information from the things that I read, I thought it would make sense for me to do a “book review” of what I am reading for this blog. That way I can let you in on what I’m learning while, at the same time, helping my own retention.
This past weekend I did a wedding in the Dallas Metroplex, which means I got a chance to go and buy books at bookstores that I usually can’t frequent. While at one of these, I found another copy of The Road to Missional: Journey to the Center of the Church by Michael Frost (co-author of The Forgotten Ways with Alan Hirsch). This book was recently placed on a list of the top 40 books for a thorough understanding of the missional church conversation by a missional organization called Sentralized (check them out at www.sentralizedgathering.com). Anyway, I bought this book a few weeks before I moved out of my office, so I have no idea where my original copy is. But, since I saw this one, I bought it and began reading it on the flight home. Here’s a brief, somewhat haphazard review of the book:
This book is one of the Shapevine Missional Series (www.shapevine.com) designed to further the conversation on missional church. Frost begins by defending the continued use of the M-word (missional) to describe the wholesale changes that he deems are necessary for the church to thrive in these changing times. His premise is that, while missional has become a buzzword for churches around the globe, very few understand just what this entails. Missional isn’t a trend to attract more people to church; it is the wholesale reorientation of the church around mission. As he says on page 21: “Missional leaders don’t see changing the church as central to their cause; they want to change the whole world.” He then brings up six examples of what this looks like in the six chapters that make up the book. I’ll look at them chapter by chapter with some relevant quotes interspersed.
1. The Missio Dei - Seeing Mission as Bigger than Evangelism
This is rightly the best place to start. In my conversations with people about what in the world I am doing, this becomes a sticking point almost immediately. Those of us steeped in Christendom have a hard time understanding what the big difference is between mission and evangelism. While I can’t do it justice in these few words, I’ll hit some high points about what this means. Frost quotes NT Wright extensively in this book, and quotes David Bosch extensively in this chapter. A few of their quotes may help me communicate the thoughts of this chapter. First, Wright: “Despite what people think, within the Christian family and outside it, the point of Christianity isn’t ‘to go to heaven when you die’”(p. 23). This has probably been the hardest thing that I have had to learn, that our efforts to “save souls” are in vain if we are not “transforming people.” Bosch writes, “[Mission] is alerting people to the universal reign of God through Christ” (p.24). This changes how we do things when we make the transfer from being primarily concerned about “there and then” and set our focus on “here and now.” As Wright says elsewhere, it’s about life AFTER life after death – what things look like on a redeemed and restored new heavens and new earth. The primary image that Frost plays off of in this chapter is the idea of a movie trailer. Our lives as Christ-followers are to serve the role that a movie trailer plays. We are to portray enough of what is to go on in the redeemed creation that people become drawn to it and “want to see the movie” themselves. Frost also plays on an image that Wright uses in Simply Christian, where he talks about the Celtic concept of “thin places” – places where the veil between heaven and earth become so thin that the light of heaven shines clearly through into this world. I love that image and will blog later in the week about a “thin place” that I saw this past weekend at a wedding.
2. Slow Evangelism – Moving Beyond the Four Spiritual Laws
On the heels of his discussion that the purpose of the church is so much bigger than evangelism as it has been traditionally interpreted, Frost talks about what evangelism should look like in a missional community. Unlike many of the postmodern church thinkers who deny the importance of the proclamation of Biblical truth, Frost acknowledges that the announcement of good news is an important aspect of mission. As he points out, the St. Francis quote that many love to quote about preaching the gospel at all times DOES include the important point that, when necessary, USE WORDS! He does contend with Hauerwas and Willimon that “The only way for the world to know it is being redeemed is for the church to point to the Redeemer by being a redeemed people” (p. 56). But there has to be a balance between announcement and demonstration. His missional indicators for the church on pp. 62-63 are worth looking over to get a better handle on what this chapter means for the church.
3. A Market-Shaped Church – How Membership Has Trumped Mission
This is one of the concepts that I absolutely believe with everything that is in me – that the church has become so infected with a consumer virus that we don’t even realize that we have it. I would guess that over half of the institutional church leaders across the country would agree as well. The problem becomes, how do we change it? This is where so much of my mindspace goes these days. How do we change a church culture when that culture is so intertwined with capitalism and “American values” that we can’t untangle them? As Frost says on p. 76, “What we require today is a radical rethink about the degree to which our churches have unwittingly embraced what Bryan Stone calls the logic of production, and an uncoupling from that paradigm, setting churches free to embrace the alternative paradigm presented by Jesus, a paradigm of truthfulness, love, and incarnation.” This might be the biggest challenge for the church moving forward. While Frost identifies the problem well, I am not sure that he provides great and clear solutions about where we go from here.
4. Triumphant Humiliation – The Cross as a Missional Paradigm for Holiness
In this chapter, Frost points out that the cross needs to be “not only the means by which our sins are forgiven, but also the template for all subsequent Christian living” (p. 87). He advocates a cruciform model of discipleship, including a mentor who is willing to give his life for an apprentice. I loved how he put it on page 85 – “Discerning what Jesus would do in any given situation, especially when we live our lives among the poor and the marginalized, is actually hard work.” We have often reduced discipleship to a set of rules and regulations and in so doing have robbed the cross of its power. Frost spends most of the chapter contrasting piety and discipleship. Piety (rule-following) is easy and leads to an offensive self-righteousness; discipleship (Spirit-following) is difficult and leads to attractive humility.
5. Breathing Shalom – Bringing Reconciliation, Justice, and Beauty to a Broken World
One of the hallmarks of the missional movement is the emphasis on Shalom, the Hebrew word that is usually translated “peace.” Shalom is a much richer concept than our view of peace, which we usually use to communicate a personal calm or a lack of conflict. Shalom might be better translated “wholeness,” that idea of things being “as they should be.” Our task as Christ-followers is to recognize shalom when we see it and to do everything in our power to foster shalom in our world. The three primary areas that Frost points to are restored relationship, reestablished justice, and recognition of beauty. As Wright says, “We are called to be part of God’s new creation, called to be agents of that new creation here and now. We are called to model and display that new creation in symphonies and family life, in restorative justice and poetry, in holiness and service to the poor, in politics and painting” (p. 115). This chapter created many life-giving thoughts and dreams for what our new missional community should look like.
6. Moving into the Neighborhood – Living Out Incarnational Mission
I love that even recognized authors such as Michael Frost have to put up with stupid/smart people. He tells the story of his argument with a seminary student about his “misuse” of the Incarnation as the model for mission, since clearly the Incarnation of Christ was a once-in-a-history kind of event. Yet, we are called to live the life of Christ among the people we are called to live near. I loved Frost’s example of how many church people live in one neighborhood yet church in another. (Yes, I just turned “church” into a verb. Deal with it.) The examples of this chapter stretched me and challenged me to rethink what it means to live in a neighborhood. It caused me to rethink what my calling is in the midst of that neighborhood. I especially loved the parting quote from Alan Roxburgh – “And until we build transformed communities, there is no hope for a broken world” (p. 140).
I know that I have not done an adequate job of conveying Michael Frost’s great work in this book. As I re-read this “book review,” I have completely missed the overarching role that Jesus plays in this whole matter. Frost does a much better job keeping us focused on Jesus. What I greatly appreciated about this book was the variety of authors quoted. He quotes Wright and Bosch and Newbigin extensively, but also spends some time quoting Piper and Keller and McLaren. He even introduced me to some new people, like Kristin Jack and Marilynne Robinson. I am going to pass my two copies of this book (once I find my other one) around to my little community to read. I would recommend that you read it if you’re wanting a clearer picture of where the missional conversation came from and why it’s not done yet.
All quotes are from The Road to Missional by Michael Frost, ©2011 by Michael Frost, published by Baker Books (www.bakerbooks.com).
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Bringing Resurrection, Easter 2012
Today in the place in which I live, good Christian people gathered all over the city in beautiful buildings to celebrate a risen Savior. Songs of resurrection were sung and prayers of thanksgiving were prayed. Sermons were preached extolling the significant, world-altering event that took place 1985 (or so) years ago and the importance that it still has today. Thousands of dollars were spent on new dresses and ties and suits. Twitter and Facebook feeds blew up with pictures and Scriptures and praises and celebrations. My cousin participated in one of the 35 Easter services that his church put together. (He doesn't live in Lubbock, by the way, in case you were racking your brain to think of a Lubbock church big enough to pull THAT off.)
Also today in the place in which I live, good people gathered at major intersections to sell Sunday papers to try to earn some meager money for their massive needs. Others sat at hospital beds weeping over parents who were slipping away. Good families hunkered down in rooms waiting to hear news about the health implications of complications from a child's surgery. Brokenhearted people sat in desperate need of having their hearts bound up. Poor people waited desperately for someone to come and preach them some good news. Captives wondered who would come to them and proclaim freedom. Prisoners sat again in darkness, wondering where all the light had gone. Mourners looked around for someone to bring them comfort.
Maybe it is because today was the first Easter in my life that I didn't darken the door of a church building. Maybe it's because the things that God has been stirring in me are moving me toward action of a different kind. Maybe it's because I have surrounded myself with people who have challenged me to see the world as broken and in need of redemption. Whatever the reason, the dichotomy of the first two paragraphs that I wrote above hit me hard this Sunday. Today, churches across our country gathered for their high holy day -- Resurrection Sunday. Churches beefed up their greeter force and rocked out their worship. Churches spruced up their signage and weedeated (weed-ate???) their parking lots. Churches spent dollars on egg hunts and advertising. They gathered in their places of worship, counted their people and offerings. Compared this Easter's attendance with the year-to-date (and with the ghost of Easters past). Felt really good about what they did today.
And redemption happened. I have read tweets and posts about all of the good things that happened this morning. My friends at Ecclesia Houston had an overwhelmingly blessed Easter gathering in the heart of that city. My friends in Lexington, KY, brought hope and redemption to the lives of hundreds. My friends at Experience Life here in Lubbock lived up to their name and helped a packed house at their downtown campus experience that life. And while I haven't heard much from my family at Raintree, I know that it was a weekend of blessing and being blessed. There is no doubt that redemption took place in the midst of these gatherings that took place.
But just in the relatively modest city that we live in, there were so many missed opportunities to live out the Isaiah 61 reference alluded to above. God-followers would have had their pick of places to bring redemption to Lubbock today. Almost all the social organizations had opportunities to serve today -- Christians were busy gathering in their houses of worship and forgetting just what the Savior that they were celebrating spent most of his time doing. I am not saying this to minimize the amount of redemption that took place in those gatherings. I am saying that to try to get us to think about where God is already working and to get in line behind him.
One of my favorite authors, Leonard Sweet, made the contention SEVERAL years ago that God might just be more active in the world these days than he is in the church. When I first read that, I almost went ahead and dismissed him as a heretic. Seemed like an appropriate thing to do. But the more that I reflected on it, the more truth it seemed to hold. If God is a God of the oppressed and broken-hearted, then wouldn't it make more sense that He was doing His thing right in the midst of an oppressed and broken world?
I hesitate to tell you our story from today, because the last thing that I would want to convey is that I have it all figured out. That this is the only way. That I'm right and others are wrong. I merely tell you our story to try to get you to see that there just might be another way -- a more redemptive way. Today we loaded up our family at 6:40 am and headed to the Ronald McDonald House in Lubbock. For those of you unfamiliar with RMH, it partners with local children's hospitals to provide a place to stay for out-of-town families who find their children sick and in the hospital. A group of us went to cook breakfast burritos for the families that were staying there. And to bring them Easter baskets with games and activities designed to restore some sense of normalcy in their lives. And to generally let them know that, despite mounting evidence to the contrary, Jesus loves them. Dearly. And their sick children. Especially their sick children.
The lady in charge said that we would probably see parts of two or three of the ten families staying there. Most would prefer to stay in their rooms, hunkered down for the fight that they were in. I think we ended up meeting 7 or 8 of the families. Their stories were absolutely heart-breaking. A one-year-old experiencing complications from a second heart surgery. A 17-year-old on life support. A 17-week-premature baby fighting in NICU. A 7-week-premature baby that mom and dad are hoping to take home this week. And a kitchen-full of breakfast burritos gave us the opportunity to hear these stories. To encourage these families. To pray for these children. To bring life and hope and resurrection and redemption into a culture of hurt and brokenness and pain.
I feel like it was the first time I have ever really celebrated Easter.
Also today in the place in which I live, good people gathered at major intersections to sell Sunday papers to try to earn some meager money for their massive needs. Others sat at hospital beds weeping over parents who were slipping away. Good families hunkered down in rooms waiting to hear news about the health implications of complications from a child's surgery. Brokenhearted people sat in desperate need of having their hearts bound up. Poor people waited desperately for someone to come and preach them some good news. Captives wondered who would come to them and proclaim freedom. Prisoners sat again in darkness, wondering where all the light had gone. Mourners looked around for someone to bring them comfort.
Maybe it is because today was the first Easter in my life that I didn't darken the door of a church building. Maybe it's because the things that God has been stirring in me are moving me toward action of a different kind. Maybe it's because I have surrounded myself with people who have challenged me to see the world as broken and in need of redemption. Whatever the reason, the dichotomy of the first two paragraphs that I wrote above hit me hard this Sunday. Today, churches across our country gathered for their high holy day -- Resurrection Sunday. Churches beefed up their greeter force and rocked out their worship. Churches spruced up their signage and weedeated (weed-ate???) their parking lots. Churches spent dollars on egg hunts and advertising. They gathered in their places of worship, counted their people and offerings. Compared this Easter's attendance with the year-to-date (and with the ghost of Easters past). Felt really good about what they did today.
And redemption happened. I have read tweets and posts about all of the good things that happened this morning. My friends at Ecclesia Houston had an overwhelmingly blessed Easter gathering in the heart of that city. My friends in Lexington, KY, brought hope and redemption to the lives of hundreds. My friends at Experience Life here in Lubbock lived up to their name and helped a packed house at their downtown campus experience that life. And while I haven't heard much from my family at Raintree, I know that it was a weekend of blessing and being blessed. There is no doubt that redemption took place in the midst of these gatherings that took place.
But just in the relatively modest city that we live in, there were so many missed opportunities to live out the Isaiah 61 reference alluded to above. God-followers would have had their pick of places to bring redemption to Lubbock today. Almost all the social organizations had opportunities to serve today -- Christians were busy gathering in their houses of worship and forgetting just what the Savior that they were celebrating spent most of his time doing. I am not saying this to minimize the amount of redemption that took place in those gatherings. I am saying that to try to get us to think about where God is already working and to get in line behind him.
One of my favorite authors, Leonard Sweet, made the contention SEVERAL years ago that God might just be more active in the world these days than he is in the church. When I first read that, I almost went ahead and dismissed him as a heretic. Seemed like an appropriate thing to do. But the more that I reflected on it, the more truth it seemed to hold. If God is a God of the oppressed and broken-hearted, then wouldn't it make more sense that He was doing His thing right in the midst of an oppressed and broken world?
I hesitate to tell you our story from today, because the last thing that I would want to convey is that I have it all figured out. That this is the only way. That I'm right and others are wrong. I merely tell you our story to try to get you to see that there just might be another way -- a more redemptive way. Today we loaded up our family at 6:40 am and headed to the Ronald McDonald House in Lubbock. For those of you unfamiliar with RMH, it partners with local children's hospitals to provide a place to stay for out-of-town families who find their children sick and in the hospital. A group of us went to cook breakfast burritos for the families that were staying there. And to bring them Easter baskets with games and activities designed to restore some sense of normalcy in their lives. And to generally let them know that, despite mounting evidence to the contrary, Jesus loves them. Dearly. And their sick children. Especially their sick children.
The lady in charge said that we would probably see parts of two or three of the ten families staying there. Most would prefer to stay in their rooms, hunkered down for the fight that they were in. I think we ended up meeting 7 or 8 of the families. Their stories were absolutely heart-breaking. A one-year-old experiencing complications from a second heart surgery. A 17-year-old on life support. A 17-week-premature baby fighting in NICU. A 7-week-premature baby that mom and dad are hoping to take home this week. And a kitchen-full of breakfast burritos gave us the opportunity to hear these stories. To encourage these families. To pray for these children. To bring life and hope and resurrection and redemption into a culture of hurt and brokenness and pain.
I feel like it was the first time I have ever really celebrated Easter.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
A Place at the Table, day 38, 39, 40
So here we are. In what seems like an unbelievable turn of events, I have survived the 40 day "A Place at the Table" fast with a minimal amount of damage. As a matter of fact, there have been several positive things that have come out of this fast, just from a physical perspective. We'll start this blog post with the two big advantages of this fast for me physically and we'll see where the blog goes from there.
Advantage #1: I learned to like beans.
I know this seems like such a minor detail, but for those of you who know how dadgum picky I am, this is a pretty huge deal. This is going to be of extra significance to me because of where I currently live. Every other restaurant in Lubbock is a Mexican restaurant, and my ability to get meaningful sides with my quesadillas, tacos, and fajitas is going to greatly increase my opportunities to leave a restaurant full. I should no longer have to keep my main course separated from the sides, lest the thing that I like get "infected" by the things that I don't. I could legitimately go to Abuelo's and eat a meal that included no meat and still walk out full. The implications of this are life-changing. I hope.
Advantage #2: I lost a bunch of weight.
This is the easiest advantage to behold. Over the last few weeks especially I have gotten comments on how much weight I have lost. My insurance guy caught me in the grocery store today and commented on it. I've actually been losing weight since November (there's a story to it -- you should ask me some time!), and have only lost about 10-12 pounds on this fast. But I guess it was the kind of weight loss that shows up in my face, which has led to the increase of comments. I am now (at least according to my scale) at the weight that I should max out at for my age and height. It's pretty sad that it takes a 40-day fast to get me down to where I should have been maxed out. But it does feel good to be here.
Now, as far as the other advantages, I feel like I have only just begun to reap benefits in other areas of my life. There have been days in the past several years when I have wondered if I was disciplined enough to do anything for a week, let alone 40 days. This experience has shown me that I do, indeed, have that level of discipline. And I just can't get away from the linguistic tie between "discipline" and "disciple." Maybe I do have what it takes to be a disciple of Jesus after all.
The camaraderie that has been formed in our little group during this 40 days has been unreal, even for those who weren't able to participate in the fast. I don't really understand where this level of community came from or how we got there, but it has been phenomenal for us. It was the absolute BEST way to begin a journey together, and I even feel like this fast is going to inform where our community goes from here.
Even though the blog will change from being focused on the fast to being more holistic, I feel like the topics and discussions and conclusions that I come to in these writings will be informed by what went down during this fast. So thanks, Chris Seay (like he reads this!) for having the courage to experience this fast yourself a year ago and for writing it down for others of us to be a part of. Thanks to those of you who stuck with this blog and encouraged me along the way to keep writing. And thanks to this little community that enacted this fast together and was there to whine and complain about it with me. I am so excited about where we go from here. I mean, after Feaster!!!!!
Advantage #1: I learned to like beans.
I know this seems like such a minor detail, but for those of you who know how dadgum picky I am, this is a pretty huge deal. This is going to be of extra significance to me because of where I currently live. Every other restaurant in Lubbock is a Mexican restaurant, and my ability to get meaningful sides with my quesadillas, tacos, and fajitas is going to greatly increase my opportunities to leave a restaurant full. I should no longer have to keep my main course separated from the sides, lest the thing that I like get "infected" by the things that I don't. I could legitimately go to Abuelo's and eat a meal that included no meat and still walk out full. The implications of this are life-changing. I hope.
Advantage #2: I lost a bunch of weight.
This is the easiest advantage to behold. Over the last few weeks especially I have gotten comments on how much weight I have lost. My insurance guy caught me in the grocery store today and commented on it. I've actually been losing weight since November (there's a story to it -- you should ask me some time!), and have only lost about 10-12 pounds on this fast. But I guess it was the kind of weight loss that shows up in my face, which has led to the increase of comments. I am now (at least according to my scale) at the weight that I should max out at for my age and height. It's pretty sad that it takes a 40-day fast to get me down to where I should have been maxed out. But it does feel good to be here.
Now, as far as the other advantages, I feel like I have only just begun to reap benefits in other areas of my life. There have been days in the past several years when I have wondered if I was disciplined enough to do anything for a week, let alone 40 days. This experience has shown me that I do, indeed, have that level of discipline. And I just can't get away from the linguistic tie between "discipline" and "disciple." Maybe I do have what it takes to be a disciple of Jesus after all.
The camaraderie that has been formed in our little group during this 40 days has been unreal, even for those who weren't able to participate in the fast. I don't really understand where this level of community came from or how we got there, but it has been phenomenal for us. It was the absolute BEST way to begin a journey together, and I even feel like this fast is going to inform where our community goes from here.
Even though the blog will change from being focused on the fast to being more holistic, I feel like the topics and discussions and conclusions that I come to in these writings will be informed by what went down during this fast. So thanks, Chris Seay (like he reads this!) for having the courage to experience this fast yourself a year ago and for writing it down for others of us to be a part of. Thanks to those of you who stuck with this blog and encouraged me along the way to keep writing. And thanks to this little community that enacted this fast together and was there to whine and complain about it with me. I am so excited about where we go from here. I mean, after Feaster!!!!!
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
A Place at the Table, day 35, 36 & 37
It has been an interesting first week away from "ministry." I really don't know how I had time to do ministry with all the opportunities out there. I spent the morning on Monday having coffee with a friend who had somehow missed my announcement that I was moving on. Monday evening was a chance to connect with 12 different families through coaching Faith's softball team. Tuesday was a coffee appointment, a lunch appointment, another opportunity to minister through softball, an impromptu check-in with two friends who were grabbing a cup of coffee and some conversation, and a late-night, 3-hour conversation with a friend who is having a rough time right now. Wednesday was working from a coffeeshop and finding opportunities to meet some neat people who are doing some pretty amazing ministry at Tech. After lunch was another coffee appointment with a friend who is dealing with some of life's crap. Then we went to a baseball game of one of our little friends (and his family) before I ended the night with an appointment with some new friends about doing their wedding in a couple of weeks. Whew!
Ministry opportunities are all around us. If Jesus is to be believed (and I tend to believe He IS), God is always working. We spend so much time in church work trying to plan and prepare so that everything is in place for the Spirit to move among us. What if we've got the paradigm all jacked up? What if we were to spend our time seeing where God is working and getting in line behind Him? What if we didn't spend so much time trying to make the conditions optimal for God's movement and instead spent the time looking for the opportunities God is placing in front of us? Opportunities to bring redemption and healing and wholeness? You don't have to be a paid minister to do that. This week's been proof of that.
Where is God working around you, and what would it look like if you got in line behind Him?
Monday, April 2, 2012
A Place at the Table, feast day 5/an ending
It's going to be hard to sum up yesterday in one blog post. I'll either ramble on for paragraph after paragraph or I'll cut things too short and leave way too much out. But it was an important day, and as such I feel like I ought to devote a whole blog post to it. So here we go . . .
Yesterday marked the end of an ebb-and-flow 10-year ministry with Raintree Christian Church here in Lubbock. I have officially been on staff since January 1, 2003, but I began leading worship on a consistent basis almost the moment that I stepped out of the moving van from Martha's Vineyard, MA. I've seen some unbelievable things in my 10 years here -- both ministerially and personally. We as a church have absolutely been through the highs and lows of life together. I have connected with some of the most amazing people I have ever met. I have grown from a punk 27-year-old youth minister into a punk 37-year-old associate minister. I have started two new and distinctly different services -- the River and raintree pm -- and led countless others. I have preached sermons, taught lessons, sung songs, written articles, made CDs and DVDs, made copies, moved offices (I ended up having 5 different offices in that building). I spent years as the youth minister, the college minister, the worship minister, and even a few days as the children's minister (not our brightest idea). I have seen marriages stay together that I thought were doomed, and I've seen marriages that had no reason to end head that way. I've run sound for funerals and weddings and even performed a wedding or two. I have welcomed two beautiful girls into the world (Gracie was born in MV), and I have placed a precious son in the ground. It has been quite a ride!
Often in the midst of the busyness of ministry, people get lost. We become about running around doing programs and lose sight of the fact that ministry is, first and foremost, about people and connecting people to Jesus and one another. In my worst days, that has been me. I was reminded of the fact that I almost alienated one of my best friends, Dusty Milner, before our friendship ever got started because of my flaw of putting programs over people. I've had my moments of greatness and many more moments of humanness.
For our last Sunday, the leadership of Raintree encouraged the people to write out for us their memories of our family. The responses were varied, but I saw one theme emerging as what people remembered about me. More than anything else, people appreciated how real I was. Not how well I sang; not how well I preached; not how well I ministered; not how well I . . . And what was amazing to me was that many of the notes referenced what were the lowlights of my 10 years. Those of us who follow Christ spend so much time worrying about how this will appear or what people will think of that action. All that people want is for us to be real in our relationship with Jesus -- good, bad, and ugly. Especially the ugly.
I want to share something from an unnamed friend that challenged me to continue to be very intentional about living out the Jesus way in the midst of the stuff of life. I share this, not because I want to puff myself up, but because I want to challenge you to live out the life of Christ in your own context. I think this person has some rose-colored glasses when it comes to my failings, but it challenges me to live like Jesus did.
"I can count on one hand the people who I have truly seen God in, and you are one of those people. You are an example of Christ's love and He shines through you. You will be missed and loved always. Go shine."
Friends, whether in this church or that, in this place or that, in this way or that, let's go shine. That's when kingdom breaks out among us, within us, and around us.
Yesterday marked the end of an ebb-and-flow 10-year ministry with Raintree Christian Church here in Lubbock. I have officially been on staff since January 1, 2003, but I began leading worship on a consistent basis almost the moment that I stepped out of the moving van from Martha's Vineyard, MA. I've seen some unbelievable things in my 10 years here -- both ministerially and personally. We as a church have absolutely been through the highs and lows of life together. I have connected with some of the most amazing people I have ever met. I have grown from a punk 27-year-old youth minister into a punk 37-year-old associate minister. I have started two new and distinctly different services -- the River and raintree pm -- and led countless others. I have preached sermons, taught lessons, sung songs, written articles, made CDs and DVDs, made copies, moved offices (I ended up having 5 different offices in that building). I spent years as the youth minister, the college minister, the worship minister, and even a few days as the children's minister (not our brightest idea). I have seen marriages stay together that I thought were doomed, and I've seen marriages that had no reason to end head that way. I've run sound for funerals and weddings and even performed a wedding or two. I have welcomed two beautiful girls into the world (Gracie was born in MV), and I have placed a precious son in the ground. It has been quite a ride!
Often in the midst of the busyness of ministry, people get lost. We become about running around doing programs and lose sight of the fact that ministry is, first and foremost, about people and connecting people to Jesus and one another. In my worst days, that has been me. I was reminded of the fact that I almost alienated one of my best friends, Dusty Milner, before our friendship ever got started because of my flaw of putting programs over people. I've had my moments of greatness and many more moments of humanness.
For our last Sunday, the leadership of Raintree encouraged the people to write out for us their memories of our family. The responses were varied, but I saw one theme emerging as what people remembered about me. More than anything else, people appreciated how real I was. Not how well I sang; not how well I preached; not how well I ministered; not how well I . . . And what was amazing to me was that many of the notes referenced what were the lowlights of my 10 years. Those of us who follow Christ spend so much time worrying about how this will appear or what people will think of that action. All that people want is for us to be real in our relationship with Jesus -- good, bad, and ugly. Especially the ugly.
I want to share something from an unnamed friend that challenged me to continue to be very intentional about living out the Jesus way in the midst of the stuff of life. I share this, not because I want to puff myself up, but because I want to challenge you to live out the life of Christ in your own context. I think this person has some rose-colored glasses when it comes to my failings, but it challenges me to live like Jesus did.
"I can count on one hand the people who I have truly seen God in, and you are one of those people. You are an example of Christ's love and He shines through you. You will be missed and loved always. Go shine."
Friends, whether in this church or that, in this place or that, in this way or that, let's go shine. That's when kingdom breaks out among us, within us, and around us.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
A Place at the Table, days 30-34
I knew that this week would be a hard one to blog, but I didn't expect myself to sit out the ENTIRE WEEK! I haven't even read my assigned reading in "A Place at the Table." There has just been too much going on. And probably too many memories for me to try to unpack. I suppose that there will be time for that in the future.
This week has been about transitions. I spent several days clearing out my office and boxing up my books -- always a good exercise. I have so many good books I need to read. Then I spent a day or two going through the building making sure that I have all of my stuff. It really is amazing how much stuff one can accumulate in 10 years of ministry at a place. (Not that there are just a bunch of folks that work at the same church for that long, but there are a few of us.) Wednesday night was the last worship practice with some of my favorite people in the world -- people that I have laughed with and cried with, screamed with and whispered to, argued with and agreed with, eaten with and misbehaved with (especially Aaron, Edwin & Dusty). I spent the week interviewing at different places for employment. My wife would really like for that aspect to line up quickly. I also worked my newly-acquired t-shirt sales gig, chasing down shirts and jobs and designs. (If any of you need a t-shirt made, look me up!)
So as I sit here in my blogging chair for the first time this week on the night before my last Sunday at Raintree, those memories are making it a little difficult to blog. I'm afraid that if I started to try to put some memories down in this blog, I'd become a blubbering mess and not ever finish this blog. You can't pour your heart into people for 10 years and NOT have stories -- both good and bad -- to tell. Marriages saved and broken. Kids rebelling and staying close to Christ. Songs that were well received and, well . . . . Memories. I'd better stop before this gets too sappy. Maybe I'll get sappy in a few weeks.
This week has been about transitions. I spent several days clearing out my office and boxing up my books -- always a good exercise. I have so many good books I need to read. Then I spent a day or two going through the building making sure that I have all of my stuff. It really is amazing how much stuff one can accumulate in 10 years of ministry at a place. (Not that there are just a bunch of folks that work at the same church for that long, but there are a few of us.) Wednesday night was the last worship practice with some of my favorite people in the world -- people that I have laughed with and cried with, screamed with and whispered to, argued with and agreed with, eaten with and misbehaved with (especially Aaron, Edwin & Dusty). I spent the week interviewing at different places for employment. My wife would really like for that aspect to line up quickly. I also worked my newly-acquired t-shirt sales gig, chasing down shirts and jobs and designs. (If any of you need a t-shirt made, look me up!)
So as I sit here in my blogging chair for the first time this week on the night before my last Sunday at Raintree, those memories are making it a little difficult to blog. I'm afraid that if I started to try to put some memories down in this blog, I'd become a blubbering mess and not ever finish this blog. You can't pour your heart into people for 10 years and NOT have stories -- both good and bad -- to tell. Marriages saved and broken. Kids rebelling and staying close to Christ. Songs that were well received and, well . . . . Memories. I'd better stop before this gets too sappy. Maybe I'll get sappy in a few weeks.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
A Place at the Table, day 29
I have a feeling that for the next several posts, the thoughts will be more about life changes than about the fast. Most of you who follow this blog know that I have made the decision to leave Raintree, the church that I have been at for over 10 years, to pursue church in a different fashion. I'm sure that there will be many posts in the future about this new plan, but for today I want to focus a bit on the leaving.
My wife and I had a little tiff yesterday over my office. You see, I am what's known as a "book whore." (It's my own term, but I love it, so I use it.) Despite the fact that I already own hundreds that I haven't read, I am constantly buying books. And all of those books have to be out of my office by Sunday -- thus the tiff. My library is one of my favorite things. I am a big believer that you can tell a lot about some one's passion for ministry and study based on the contents of their library. I have books that I disagree with because they're too conservative, and books I disagree with because they're too liberal. (I made a joke to myself yesterday in the midst of moving 17 boxes of books that the books from a liberal perspective are even lighter to carry! I thought it was funny and had to share.) I have a few books that were from my grandfather's library, and a ton of books that were from my dad's library (talk about a heritage!).
Every time that I move my books (and I try to do this as infrequently as possible), I am reminded of how much I love my library. When I handle certain books, I am reminded of the impact they have had on me. Books like "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning, "Velvet Elvis" by Rob Bell, "A Celebration of Discipline" by Richard Foster, "Desire of the Everlasting Hills" and "The Gifts of the Jews" by Thomas Cahill, "SoulTsunami" by Leonard Sweet, "The Tangible Kingdom" by Hugh Halter & Matt Smay, and "The Forgotten Ways" and "Untamed" by Alan Hirsch bring back all sorts of memories of where I was in my walk with Jesus when I read them. Sometimes those memories are filled with longing for a more simple approach, but mostly those memories are filled with happiness over where I am now in the journey -- often BECAUSE of the content of those books.
Books contain information and information can lead us to knowledge and wisdom and transformation. Whenever I find myself in a funk in my relationship with Jesus, you can probably trace it back to the fact that I'm not reading. This fast that has literally transformed the way I think is the result of reading a book -- A Place at the Table, by Chris Seay, in case you're new to this blog.
As I loaded up almost all of my library (17 boxes last night -- not sure where they'll all fit in my "home office"), it hit me that a love for reading is one of the most important things that I will hand down to my kids. I have a 10-year-old daughter that consumed the entire Percy Jackson & the Olympians series in about three weeks. I have an 8-year-old that is constantly reading Wimpy Kid or Dork Diaries or her American Girl magazine. And I have a 4-year-old who "reads" Chronicles of Narnia picture books all the way to school (while rocking out to the David Crowder* Band, no less.) She also refuses to go potty at home without a book in hand. (That reminds me of a Seinfeld plot line . . .) This will be an important part of the legacy that I leave to my children and grandchildren. I might not do everything right with them, but I feel like the love that both Wendy and I have for reading is being passed down in a healthy and life-changing way.
Maybe you're struggling with life right now and you're not sure how to pull out of it. It won't solve everything, but might I suggest trying to better yourself by reading a good book? If you haven't read "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Manning, that'd be a great place to start, a great reminder of the grace and love of Jesus. Some others that come to mind are "Permission to Speak Freely" by Anne Jackson, "Blue Like Jazz" and "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" by Donald Miller, or "Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt" by Anne Rice.
What books have spoken to you? What books have YOU read that I need to read? I'd love to hear your suggestions!
My wife and I had a little tiff yesterday over my office. You see, I am what's known as a "book whore." (It's my own term, but I love it, so I use it.) Despite the fact that I already own hundreds that I haven't read, I am constantly buying books. And all of those books have to be out of my office by Sunday -- thus the tiff. My library is one of my favorite things. I am a big believer that you can tell a lot about some one's passion for ministry and study based on the contents of their library. I have books that I disagree with because they're too conservative, and books I disagree with because they're too liberal. (I made a joke to myself yesterday in the midst of moving 17 boxes of books that the books from a liberal perspective are even lighter to carry! I thought it was funny and had to share.) I have a few books that were from my grandfather's library, and a ton of books that were from my dad's library (talk about a heritage!).
Every time that I move my books (and I try to do this as infrequently as possible), I am reminded of how much I love my library. When I handle certain books, I am reminded of the impact they have had on me. Books like "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning, "Velvet Elvis" by Rob Bell, "A Celebration of Discipline" by Richard Foster, "Desire of the Everlasting Hills" and "The Gifts of the Jews" by Thomas Cahill, "SoulTsunami" by Leonard Sweet, "The Tangible Kingdom" by Hugh Halter & Matt Smay, and "The Forgotten Ways" and "Untamed" by Alan Hirsch bring back all sorts of memories of where I was in my walk with Jesus when I read them. Sometimes those memories are filled with longing for a more simple approach, but mostly those memories are filled with happiness over where I am now in the journey -- often BECAUSE of the content of those books.
Books contain information and information can lead us to knowledge and wisdom and transformation. Whenever I find myself in a funk in my relationship with Jesus, you can probably trace it back to the fact that I'm not reading. This fast that has literally transformed the way I think is the result of reading a book -- A Place at the Table, by Chris Seay, in case you're new to this blog.
As I loaded up almost all of my library (17 boxes last night -- not sure where they'll all fit in my "home office"), it hit me that a love for reading is one of the most important things that I will hand down to my kids. I have a 10-year-old daughter that consumed the entire Percy Jackson & the Olympians series in about three weeks. I have an 8-year-old that is constantly reading Wimpy Kid or Dork Diaries or her American Girl magazine. And I have a 4-year-old who "reads" Chronicles of Narnia picture books all the way to school (while rocking out to the David Crowder* Band, no less.) She also refuses to go potty at home without a book in hand. (That reminds me of a Seinfeld plot line . . .) This will be an important part of the legacy that I leave to my children and grandchildren. I might not do everything right with them, but I feel like the love that both Wendy and I have for reading is being passed down in a healthy and life-changing way.
Maybe you're struggling with life right now and you're not sure how to pull out of it. It won't solve everything, but might I suggest trying to better yourself by reading a good book? If you haven't read "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Manning, that'd be a great place to start, a great reminder of the grace and love of Jesus. Some others that come to mind are "Permission to Speak Freely" by Anne Jackson, "Blue Like Jazz" and "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" by Donald Miller, or "Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt" by Anne Rice.
What books have spoken to you? What books have YOU read that I need to read? I'd love to hear your suggestions!
Monday, March 26, 2012
A Place at the Table, feast day 4
As I have mentioned before, I expected this fast thing to be second nature by this point in the process. I figured after a couple of weeks, this thing would be old hat. Well, that has certainly NOT been the case. Even though we have only two weeks (12 days) left of this thing, it seems like we'll never get through this. But one thing that I think I've gotten REALLY good at is the art of the feast day.
You could probably call it the pig-out day. I have turned cramming as much food as possible into a day into an art form. Yesterday we were up painting the big girls' room, and I just happened to hit a stopping point right at midnight. So I stopped. And ate a reprise of what the girls had for dinner. Well, since it is my custom to go up to church on Saturday night to make sure all my ducks are in a row, I did that for a couple of hours. Then, when I came home to so to bed, I loaded some Cinnamon Toast Crunch in a bowl of milk (dang, I miss cereal!) and headed to bed happy and full.
Since I've never been a big breakfast guy, the caramel macchiato from Starbucks was sufficient for me to get going after a few hours of sleep. Church was its usual rocking and sweaty mess, then I kicked the afternoon off with a bacon cheeseburger from McDonald's. Not my favorite choice of restaurants, but since Tinsley gave up McDonald's for lent and since she's really figuring out this feast day thing with us, I want to reinforce that in her. Plus, we had a softball opening ceremony that we had to run to after church, so we needed something quick!
The evening consisted of our group reading four chapters of Mark on location, followed by an all-meat pizza at One Guy from Italy. We feasted and laughed and told stories and dreamed and planned and feasted. Have I mentioned that we feasted? I love the community of people that God has placed in my life. It is a blessing to fast and feast with them.
I can't imagine what the immediate future holds for our group, but I don't think I've ever been quite so excited about church as I am right now. It is a scary exciting time for our family, and I can't wait to see where this leads.
You could probably call it the pig-out day. I have turned cramming as much food as possible into a day into an art form. Yesterday we were up painting the big girls' room, and I just happened to hit a stopping point right at midnight. So I stopped. And ate a reprise of what the girls had for dinner. Well, since it is my custom to go up to church on Saturday night to make sure all my ducks are in a row, I did that for a couple of hours. Then, when I came home to so to bed, I loaded some Cinnamon Toast Crunch in a bowl of milk (dang, I miss cereal!) and headed to bed happy and full.
Since I've never been a big breakfast guy, the caramel macchiato from Starbucks was sufficient for me to get going after a few hours of sleep. Church was its usual rocking and sweaty mess, then I kicked the afternoon off with a bacon cheeseburger from McDonald's. Not my favorite choice of restaurants, but since Tinsley gave up McDonald's for lent and since she's really figuring out this feast day thing with us, I want to reinforce that in her. Plus, we had a softball opening ceremony that we had to run to after church, so we needed something quick!
The evening consisted of our group reading four chapters of Mark on location, followed by an all-meat pizza at One Guy from Italy. We feasted and laughed and told stories and dreamed and planned and feasted. Have I mentioned that we feasted? I love the community of people that God has placed in my life. It is a blessing to fast and feast with them.
I can't imagine what the immediate future holds for our group, but I don't think I've ever been quite so excited about church as I am right now. It is a scary exciting time for our family, and I can't wait to see where this leads.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
A Place at the Table, day 26, 27, & 28
I'm not gonna lie. I've been having a little bit too much fun in the last few days to keep up with the blog. We've been hanging out with friends and shuttling girls to ballet and softball and painting rooms of our house. It has been a busy couple of days, for sure. But this blog has become important to me (and to other people, I am finding), so I thought it would be best to get caught up.
Thursday (day 26) was a day of work and homework (the girls, not me) and ballet and softball. We shuttled the kids around a bunch and then tried to settle them in to the routine that they have at our house. Thursdays are usually tough days for the older girls, as their bodies have a hard time adjusting to life at our house. But we fought through it and had a good night.
Saturday (day 28) was christened by wife wife as a work day around the house. Not my favorite thing to do. But there was a lot of weed eating and painting and hanging and laundry done on that day. Wendy's going to try and implement one of those types of days every month. Lucky for me, April is full of Easter and weddings and general busyness, so it might be May before we see one of those days again!
But Friday (day 27) is what I want to focus on for just a few moments. We have a friend couple that we share an anniversary with (the date, not the year). Four small groups ago we were in a small group with them and made a plan to go out for our anniversaries. Well, life happened, and probably three years later we still hadn't gone out with them. Their kids keep them busy and our lives are usually hectic, so nothing had happened. We finally made that long-standing appointment a reality this week. We went out and hung out at Texas Roadhouse and had an absolute blast!
Before I get into the content of our conversation, let me take a second to brag on myself. At Texas Roadhouse, I ordered my first vegetable plate. Now, if you know me very well, you know what an accomplishment that is for me. Vegetables and I are barely on speaking terms. But the fact that I ordered the vegetable place (at a steak joint) is not what I want to brag about. I ordered a vegetable plate WITHOUT ANY VEGETABLES!!! Yes! My four "veggies" were a baked potato, mashed potatoes, steak fries, and rice! All on the vegetable plate option list; none of them veggies. Yay, me!
Anyway, I was amazed at how quickly we stepped back into life with this couple. We had hardly seen each other in two years, yet we sat at that booth and laughed and talked for hours. We caught up on what was going on with our kids and what was going on with work. We laughed about our mistakes as parents and as human beings and we generally had a grand time.
We talked a lot about church. This couple hasn't really found a church home since leaving their church. They have wanted to allow their kids to find a place they liked and then make that place work for them, but it hasn't happened -- at least not for them. And it reinforced for me just how important community is for all of us, but especially adults. When we were in small groups and would do gender breakouts, this guy would amaze me with his honesty, transparency, and willingness to be the man God wanted him to be. I was constantly challenged by this guy to be a better dad and husband and man. I don't think he intended to challenge me in this way; it just happened. And I wonder how many other guys have been deprived of that blessing because of the life circumstances that forced them out of meaningful community with others. I wish things had gone differently and others could have received that blessing.
But this is where we find ourselves and so I am left with a choice. Will I see this as a great opportunity to catch up with some old friends? Or will I see this as an opportunity to reconnect with people that need my community as much as I need theirs? I hope I choose correctly.
Thursday (day 26) was a day of work and homework (the girls, not me) and ballet and softball. We shuttled the kids around a bunch and then tried to settle them in to the routine that they have at our house. Thursdays are usually tough days for the older girls, as their bodies have a hard time adjusting to life at our house. But we fought through it and had a good night.
Saturday (day 28) was christened by wife wife as a work day around the house. Not my favorite thing to do. But there was a lot of weed eating and painting and hanging and laundry done on that day. Wendy's going to try and implement one of those types of days every month. Lucky for me, April is full of Easter and weddings and general busyness, so it might be May before we see one of those days again!
But Friday (day 27) is what I want to focus on for just a few moments. We have a friend couple that we share an anniversary with (the date, not the year). Four small groups ago we were in a small group with them and made a plan to go out for our anniversaries. Well, life happened, and probably three years later we still hadn't gone out with them. Their kids keep them busy and our lives are usually hectic, so nothing had happened. We finally made that long-standing appointment a reality this week. We went out and hung out at Texas Roadhouse and had an absolute blast!
Before I get into the content of our conversation, let me take a second to brag on myself. At Texas Roadhouse, I ordered my first vegetable plate. Now, if you know me very well, you know what an accomplishment that is for me. Vegetables and I are barely on speaking terms. But the fact that I ordered the vegetable place (at a steak joint) is not what I want to brag about. I ordered a vegetable plate WITHOUT ANY VEGETABLES!!! Yes! My four "veggies" were a baked potato, mashed potatoes, steak fries, and rice! All on the vegetable plate option list; none of them veggies. Yay, me!
Anyway, I was amazed at how quickly we stepped back into life with this couple. We had hardly seen each other in two years, yet we sat at that booth and laughed and talked for hours. We caught up on what was going on with our kids and what was going on with work. We laughed about our mistakes as parents and as human beings and we generally had a grand time.
We talked a lot about church. This couple hasn't really found a church home since leaving their church. They have wanted to allow their kids to find a place they liked and then make that place work for them, but it hasn't happened -- at least not for them. And it reinforced for me just how important community is for all of us, but especially adults. When we were in small groups and would do gender breakouts, this guy would amaze me with his honesty, transparency, and willingness to be the man God wanted him to be. I was constantly challenged by this guy to be a better dad and husband and man. I don't think he intended to challenge me in this way; it just happened. And I wonder how many other guys have been deprived of that blessing because of the life circumstances that forced them out of meaningful community with others. I wish things had gone differently and others could have received that blessing.
But this is where we find ourselves and so I am left with a choice. Will I see this as a great opportunity to catch up with some old friends? Or will I see this as an opportunity to reconnect with people that need my community as much as I need theirs? I hope I choose correctly.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
A Place at the Table, day 25
The conversations of the past week have been enlightening. My wife is convinced that once I can focus all of my attention on this new movement, I'll have more answers. I hope she's right, because it sure seems like my answer to every other question these days is, "I don't know." What are you going to do? I don't know. How is this going to look? I don't know. When can this become an inclusive gathering that welcomes all people? I don't know. What are the Cubs World Series chances? Slim. And none. But mostly none. What does discipleship look like? I don't know.
It's that last question that I have been wrestling with the most these days. If I see this little movement as a missional, disciple-making movement, what does that mean? And how do we get there? While I certainly don't have the answers, I do have some thoughts. So I'll share.
I have come to realize that discipleship is an intimately personal endeavor. So to try and "program" discipleship is quite a misnomer, at least insofar as we try to have a one-size-fits-all approach. What discipleship looks like to this friend might not be discipleship to the next one. While there are certainly some overarching principles, one size does not fit all.
And I think that one of the aspects of discipleship that the church has sorely missed is the notion of discipline. There has been within the church recently (especially within the "emergent" church) a desire to recapture what has been termed the "spiritual disciplines." Things like fasting and meditation and lectio divina and silence and examen. These are things that, for the most part, the church has ignored. I could devote multiple posts to the reasons why we find ourselves in this place, but that's another blog for another time.
But I'm pretty sure that you can't have disciples without discipline. I know that should seem obvious, especially in the English language, but sometimes we miss the most obvious things because they're, well, too obvious. As my friend says, "If only there were some clue . . ." More than anything else, this is what the fast has taught me. Discipline is a non-negotiable part of discipleship. The last thing I want to do while making my daughters' lunches in the morning is stick to my beans/rice/potato/bread diet. I would SO love to lick the peanut butter knife or eat one of those apples. But I have made a commitment to this discipline, and so I am sticking with it.
My dream for this little community of friends/believers/journeyers is that we would continue to hold one another accountable to some form of discipline. We're (hopefully) going to follow this 40-day fasting experience with a 40-day experience with reading the Scriptures. And then maybe a 40-day journey with journaling. Then maybe 40 days of prayer. I just can't escape this notion that disciples have discipline.
And the ways that discipleship shows up in the midst of these disciplines is sometimes unexpected. One family in our group has re-engaged one another in conversations about going on the mission field in a foreign land. They didn't set out in this fast to find life direction, but it is happening as a byproduct of discipleship. Another family is re-examining finances and seeing how much exactly they need to live on so that they can give the rest away. The fast was never designed to mess with personal finances. Still another family is wrestling with what it means to be a community that "does no harm" in the things that we purchase and where we purchase them from. Again, this was never a focus of this fast.
But when we go a little deeper than the surface, we find that there is much to be pondered, explored, and discussed. Many of our deepest wishes and desires show up when we're willing to get beneath the surface. This is what happens when disciples of Jesus rediscover the importance of discipline.
It's that last question that I have been wrestling with the most these days. If I see this little movement as a missional, disciple-making movement, what does that mean? And how do we get there? While I certainly don't have the answers, I do have some thoughts. So I'll share.
I have come to realize that discipleship is an intimately personal endeavor. So to try and "program" discipleship is quite a misnomer, at least insofar as we try to have a one-size-fits-all approach. What discipleship looks like to this friend might not be discipleship to the next one. While there are certainly some overarching principles, one size does not fit all.
And I think that one of the aspects of discipleship that the church has sorely missed is the notion of discipline. There has been within the church recently (especially within the "emergent" church) a desire to recapture what has been termed the "spiritual disciplines." Things like fasting and meditation and lectio divina and silence and examen. These are things that, for the most part, the church has ignored. I could devote multiple posts to the reasons why we find ourselves in this place, but that's another blog for another time.
But I'm pretty sure that you can't have disciples without discipline. I know that should seem obvious, especially in the English language, but sometimes we miss the most obvious things because they're, well, too obvious. As my friend says, "If only there were some clue . . ." More than anything else, this is what the fast has taught me. Discipline is a non-negotiable part of discipleship. The last thing I want to do while making my daughters' lunches in the morning is stick to my beans/rice/potato/bread diet. I would SO love to lick the peanut butter knife or eat one of those apples. But I have made a commitment to this discipline, and so I am sticking with it.
My dream for this little community of friends/believers/journeyers is that we would continue to hold one another accountable to some form of discipline. We're (hopefully) going to follow this 40-day fasting experience with a 40-day experience with reading the Scriptures. And then maybe a 40-day journey with journaling. Then maybe 40 days of prayer. I just can't escape this notion that disciples have discipline.
And the ways that discipleship shows up in the midst of these disciplines is sometimes unexpected. One family in our group has re-engaged one another in conversations about going on the mission field in a foreign land. They didn't set out in this fast to find life direction, but it is happening as a byproduct of discipleship. Another family is re-examining finances and seeing how much exactly they need to live on so that they can give the rest away. The fast was never designed to mess with personal finances. Still another family is wrestling with what it means to be a community that "does no harm" in the things that we purchase and where we purchase them from. Again, this was never a focus of this fast.
But when we go a little deeper than the surface, we find that there is much to be pondered, explored, and discussed. Many of our deepest wishes and desires show up when we're willing to get beneath the surface. This is what happens when disciples of Jesus rediscover the importance of discipline.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
A Place at the Table, day 24
I really DID sum up a lot of days in yesterday's post! One feast day and four fast days! Hard to believe that I'm now almost 5/8 of the way through this thing. And as much as I like to "gripe" (and I DO like to "gripe") it really has been a pretty fascinating experience.
I had some good conversations today with some good friends and I began to realize something. Eating is for me an incredibly social event. I do everything in my power to NOT eat alone. I've got a couple of friends (you know who you are, Drew & Delux) that I kind of have on permanent standby for when I'm facing the prospect of eating alone. And when that doesn't work out, I usually go home for lunch and eat as quickly as possible so that I don't have to spend much time eating alone.
But this fast has changed that for me. I suppose it's my fear of rejection that someone might comment on the oddness of my eating only potatoes, beans & rice -- even though I have eaten with multiple people while on this fast and once I have explained what I am doing, they don't look at me all that strangely. But this fast has really shut down my socializing around meals. I have greatly limited my social eating, especially with those who are not participating in the fast with me.
But I have kinda decided that I'm done with that. So I had lunch with a good friend yesterday. And coffee with a good friend today. And dinner with three good friends tonight. And I loved it! My coffee appointment (which might be the focus of my blog tomorrow) was invigorating! Despite my continuing disdain for black coffee (see, there I go "griping" again!), we had some pretty earth-shattering conversations about where this little movement goes from here. We dreamed some dreams, had some laughs, and generally enjoyed our time together -- at least I did!
Which reminded me that this fast is about so much more than food. It is about me truly coming to grips with reality. It's about realizing how important community is and what it really looks like. It's about digging deeper than every day surface conversation to figure out what God is really doing among us. It's about connecting with Jesus on levels that can't be reached without self-discipline and a teench of sacrifice. It's about practicing a spiritual discipline that changes you in ways that you never even knew you needed to be changed. It's about kingdom. Breaking out. Within. And without. Like Jesus said it could. Like Jesus said it should. Like Jesus said it would.
I had some good conversations today with some good friends and I began to realize something. Eating is for me an incredibly social event. I do everything in my power to NOT eat alone. I've got a couple of friends (you know who you are, Drew & Delux) that I kind of have on permanent standby for when I'm facing the prospect of eating alone. And when that doesn't work out, I usually go home for lunch and eat as quickly as possible so that I don't have to spend much time eating alone.
But this fast has changed that for me. I suppose it's my fear of rejection that someone might comment on the oddness of my eating only potatoes, beans & rice -- even though I have eaten with multiple people while on this fast and once I have explained what I am doing, they don't look at me all that strangely. But this fast has really shut down my socializing around meals. I have greatly limited my social eating, especially with those who are not participating in the fast with me.
But I have kinda decided that I'm done with that. So I had lunch with a good friend yesterday. And coffee with a good friend today. And dinner with three good friends tonight. And I loved it! My coffee appointment (which might be the focus of my blog tomorrow) was invigorating! Despite my continuing disdain for black coffee (see, there I go "griping" again!), we had some pretty earth-shattering conversations about where this little movement goes from here. We dreamed some dreams, had some laughs, and generally enjoyed our time together -- at least I did!
Which reminded me that this fast is about so much more than food. It is about me truly coming to grips with reality. It's about realizing how important community is and what it really looks like. It's about digging deeper than every day surface conversation to figure out what God is really doing among us. It's about connecting with Jesus on levels that can't be reached without self-discipline and a teench of sacrifice. It's about practicing a spiritual discipline that changes you in ways that you never even knew you needed to be changed. It's about kingdom. Breaking out. Within. And without. Like Jesus said it could. Like Jesus said it should. Like Jesus said it would.
Monday, March 19, 2012
A Place at the Table, catching up
The discipline of daily blogging has been very beneficial for me. Having to spend 30-45 minutes each day to reflect and process the day is a discipline that would probably benefit all of us. So it has been an unhealthy digression for me personally to have gone this long without blogging.
But I have found in my "blogging vacation" that the community of those following these thoughts is more vast than I imagined. In the last two days I have had conversations with people that I barely know and people that I know well yet live far away who have continued following this communal journey. So to those of you who are following this blog, thank you for your kind words and for the accountability that you offer me simply by reading this.
Our little group gathered together as a community on Sunday night for the first time in two weeks. We spent a lot of time complaining about this dang fast. Where I thought this diet would get easier as the 40 days went along, it looks like the farther into this we get, the more difficult it becomes. Now, that would make a lot more sense if it were a true no-eating fast. But I didn't quite understand why it has turned more difficult on the fast we're on. It's not like we're hungry; for the most part, we're just bored with eating the same thing every meal. But it has become more difficult for all of us.
But one of our friends nailed it in our conversation. Because we had gone a Sunday without meeting, we hadn't had our weekly opportunity to "gripe" (not the word he used). And we have come to rely on this gathering to feel legitimate community. We need to know that people understand what it is that we are going through. We need to know that we are not alone in this struggle.
And that's one of the primary things that the church has lost. We went so long trying to work out a theology of "personal salvation" that we forgot the importance of community. And then when we rediscovered community, we thought that we could program it. We tried small groups and ministry teams and support groups and the list goes on and on. But community happens when we do life together, not when we try to make it happen. Accountability happens when we truly care for one another, not when we plan a 6am coffee every other week. Vulnerability is what happens when deep trust is established over time, not when the church tells us we should trust somebody because other people have trusted them.
Community is hard. And time-consuming. And painful. And unlike anything else this world offers. And those who have experienced it will never settle for the programmatic version.
But I have found in my "blogging vacation" that the community of those following these thoughts is more vast than I imagined. In the last two days I have had conversations with people that I barely know and people that I know well yet live far away who have continued following this communal journey. So to those of you who are following this blog, thank you for your kind words and for the accountability that you offer me simply by reading this.
Our little group gathered together as a community on Sunday night for the first time in two weeks. We spent a lot of time complaining about this dang fast. Where I thought this diet would get easier as the 40 days went along, it looks like the farther into this we get, the more difficult it becomes. Now, that would make a lot more sense if it were a true no-eating fast. But I didn't quite understand why it has turned more difficult on the fast we're on. It's not like we're hungry; for the most part, we're just bored with eating the same thing every meal. But it has become more difficult for all of us.
But one of our friends nailed it in our conversation. Because we had gone a Sunday without meeting, we hadn't had our weekly opportunity to "gripe" (not the word he used). And we have come to rely on this gathering to feel legitimate community. We need to know that people understand what it is that we are going through. We need to know that we are not alone in this struggle.
And that's one of the primary things that the church has lost. We went so long trying to work out a theology of "personal salvation" that we forgot the importance of community. And then when we rediscovered community, we thought that we could program it. We tried small groups and ministry teams and support groups and the list goes on and on. But community happens when we do life together, not when we try to make it happen. Accountability happens when we truly care for one another, not when we plan a 6am coffee every other week. Vulnerability is what happens when deep trust is established over time, not when the church tells us we should trust somebody because other people have trusted them.
Community is hard. And time-consuming. And painful. And unlike anything else this world offers. And those who have experienced it will never settle for the programmatic version.
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