Trust and Truth

I spent the morning at Dan Kimball’s discussion “fundamental truths in one emerging church.” I like his church, and his approach, but it’s sometimes hard to spend 90% of a session framed in an argument our church is not a part of – the Evangelicals vs. the Emergent Church (cue the dramatic music, please). Coming out of the liberal mainline, we just have different struggles, and different arguments. That being said, I got my nugget in spades (I attend these sessions believing that there is one nugget in each one that I can ponder and use). He said, in slightly different words (sorry, Dan, for paraphrasing!), that the core issue of Truth is now Trust. That we have moved from a propositional, deductive way of learning about truth to a relational one. To take that idea further, our job, as church leadership, is to be trustworthy – to build relationships of trust with God and then with people, so that other people can trust what we trust (God). Genuine, open, loving, struggling, joyful, transparent, trustworthy faith shining forth from genuine, open, loving, struggling, joyful, transparent, trustworthy people is what the world is hungry for.

 

The afternoon was Eugene Peterson. Great pastor, great scholar, great man, great modern. I’d love to share my nugget with you about his discussion of the role of the pastor in the modern church and compare it to my thoughts on the role of the pastor in the post-modern church, but it needs diagrams. My kingdom (mine, not His) for Zoho.

 

Pastor Bran

 

Getting it right

I was in a yoga practice this morning that the leader (Shelley Pagitt of Solomon's Porch) couldn't call "yoga" because it's hard for some Christians.  Yoga is, after all, a religious practice at its core that we westerners have absconded and neutered, turning it into breath mindfulness and exercise with an Eastern flavor.  (We like that in the US.  Eastern religions aren't really religions because they're not challenging. We love the exotic, because we have no investment in the outcome.) Anyway, Shelley properly reminded us that "stretching" isn't a competition.  My demon voice muttered, "of course it's a competition!" as I pushed through a tight right groin muscle.

 

I like to think I'm not competitive. And in many areas I'm not -- I'd sooner drown my Playstation Mario than practice wall kicks, would rather lift a slovenly 80 than hurt to do 100. But sometimes going to workshops I have to beat the demons with a stick, as I compare myself and our ministry to others and theirs.  Forget holier than thou.  I'm aiming for up to par.

 

So it's always a relief in the internal battle to sit in a seminar and experience coherence -- to be taken out of the better-than/worse-than DMZ and into a spacious place.  It's not about being affirmed in what's in my heart (which is nice. Let's be honest with one another.) but about experiencing hope and Godliness. Truth in an eternal sense.

 

Truth is never eternal in its details, but in its essence, in its wholeness and beauty.  In the Glory. And what place of breath mindfulness that is.

Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before

A story I like to tell about Elane and I involves a dinner we had early in our dating relationship. We were in LA, actually, visiting friends. We were having dinner at a nice restaurant, nicer perhaps because we were both in seminary and restaurant visits (along with time together) were not the norm. As the evening unfolded, we began what became a very heated discussion, on the topic of The Incarnation. Our views differed. Voices were elevated, cheeks were flushed, tears were shed, briefly. Hours later when we came to enough comfort with each other’s positions to leave reconciled if not in agreement, we left for the hotel with beautiful plates of cold, untouched pasta still on the table. I decided after that dinner that it would be wise for us to learn when and how to put some topics on hold. And I also decided that I didn’t want to spend my life with anyone who could not argue, cry and turn over an orderly dinner to wrestle with the unruly Gospel.

 

Last night it was Salvation. I don’t think either of us would claim to understand the mechanism of salvation – how or when exactly God pulls us into God’s Jesus-centered embrace, or what else God may be doing in the human story apart from pulling us close in that particular embrace. I think both of us believe salvation through Jesus to be real, tangible, and reliable (okay, at least I do). I think we both believe though you can recant, you can choose to intentionally step away from that embrace, you can’t sin your way out of it (at least I do). The heat of our discussion had more to do with the shades and emphases – how to describe salvation as both decision and lifelong practice. The tricky bit is in describing both/and – not either/or. If there is an either/or, we stand on opposite sides.

 

We’ve matured a little over the years. While there was heat, there were no tears, and we both ate well. And this morning I woke up with a new clarity. For me, the description of the both/and, decision and practice of salvation, boils down to what will get you there. In order to come to faith, I needed to be given a complete change in mindset – a reordering of priorities, of frameworks, of thought – and I needed to play with that in my mind and heart, trying it on, thinking about it, wrestling with it, talking about it. That’s the leading towards decision. I needed someone to try and describe for me what the new world looked like, in order to choose to step into it. Others need to experience little portions of the larger whole in order to take little steps forward towards it – to start by living a small thing new, then seeing how that is and moving a little closer. That’s practice. Some people need to begin to live like people of faith, in order to know deep in their souls that their faith is real.

 

Luckily, God creates for us a both/and world, full of people who might just have that missing word, or action, or tear, or laugh to lead you to embrace more fully the one embracing you. Just remember to eat first.

 

Pastor Bran

 

 

Loving the work more than Jesus

There is a one-man drama being done right now, in which a theologian goes into the next life. He is asked by Jesus, did your work bring others closer to me? Did you enjoy it?  Did you love it more than you loved me?

 

Of course the theologian, an honest and loving (and beloved) man, must admit he did. He did love the work on behalf of Jesus, sometimes, more than Jesus himself. A tragedy. A blasphemy.  So he asks Jesus for forgiveness.  And Jesus replies: you have my word on it.

 

We have Jesus' word on it: once we have chosen -- made the singular, eternal, and active decision to claim him as Lord -- in baptism, he has chosen us for eternity.  He has a claim on us, and embraces us in a loving hold that will never slip, never let go.  If we step away, if we fall or fail, Jesus never lets go. So that in this life, and the next, God continues to urge us toward him.  Our choice is eternal, because God will never ever stop believing in us and urging us closer. 

 

The kingdom of God is at hand. Take the hand.

The Media is the Message

I spent the afternoon session in “The Gospel According to Electronic Culture: Why Changing the Methods Always Changes the Message” by Tim Condor. It was like I had gone back in time to my brief stint at the University of Chicago, studying the sociology of popular culture! Who knew I would be hearing and reading quotes from Marshall McLuhan this week?!?

Mostly, it was a discussion about how we are moving and have moved from a print culture to an image culture, a linear, sequential and left-brain culture to an amorphous, right-brain culture, from a modern culture to a post-modern culture, from an Evangelical (big-E) church culture to an emergent church culture, from a more-concerned with “in” and “out”/“saved” and “not-saved” culture to a only concerned with following Jesus culture, from a Paul culture to a Jesus culture. Having come into the church in a post-modern culture, all I could say was, “Amen!” I mean, while I understand what the big deal is from a historic and sociological perspective, I have nothing but kudos from a personal and theological perspective.

Except… well, there’s one, tiny, niggling little thing that keeps cropping up. When we dumped the didactic approach to salvation (say the sinner’s prayer and you’re good to go), did we also take away the certainty of God’s grace? Personally, while I take no delight (and not much interest) in whether God has marked anyone else as His eternity-wise, in the dark of night (after all, we are called in scripture to tell the Good News, never, ever, are we called to judge what that will mean) I take great comfort in the fact that I believe he has marked ME. I take comfort, when this world is dark, that the promise of scripture is true – that “whosoever” means me too, that I am good enough, right now, even in my failures, even in my sorrows, even when I am not deserving. It is, in fact, what enables me to get up again when I fall. God asked, I said yes, and it is meaningful, forever. The waters of baptism are not fleeting.

In our new, emergent, post-modern, flowing, glorious, Jesus-following experience of God, are we losing the permanence of salvation?

Pastor Bran

God’s Swag

Before I left for the conference, a colleague of mine asked if it was the kind of conference where you get “swag.” For those of you who haven’t attended a professional development conference recently, “swag” is that stuff that vendors and companies give away free to get you to buy more (see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swag). I laughingly replied that they probably would be giving out t-shirts with “Zondervan ROCKS!” plastered across them. (Again, for those not “in the know,” Zondervan is a very large Christian publisher, and the primary sponsor of the National Pastor’s Convention. They don’t, in my experience, give t-shirts.)

It turns out, we got swag! Sure, it’s no magic-8 ball to give you all the answers you need to your common technical problems (“reboot”, “user error”, “it’s a new feature”), but it is swag nonetheless. So far, I’ve collected a book on Spiritual Marriage, a classic from William Wilburforce, a kids story-bible, a CD of collected hits from Todd Agnew. We were too late for the limited number of Contagious Christian kits (don’t worry, it’s an evangelism primer – interesting points, not for our context).

We got the second round of swag before hearing Phyllis Tickle give a feisty 10 minutes on prayer, and before Ruth Halley Barton’s talk on the importance of keeping our souls fed and connected to God in ministry. They both left me with nuggets to take home and ponder: “When the shepherd is starving, he will feed on his sheep.” “If we name the truth in God’s presence, God will come.” “We aim for servanthood, not to be a service provider.”

It’s the last of those that I will chew on more, and not just tuck into my growing good reminder pile. What is the difference between servanthood and providing service? I think it’s something about attitude, relationship, and heart. The service provider serves the people above all. The servant serves the master, and in so doing, serves the people. The service provider gives of what he or she has, or owns, or controls. The servant is sent with that which the master has. The service provider is responsible for what is provided. The servant is responsible for serving the master.

I believe it is part of our call to use our hearts, minds, spirits not just to follow Jesus, but to help others experience the joy of doing the same. But sometimes its comforting to be reminded that at the end of the day, when we are the best we can be, as classy, as articulate, as polished, as sincere, as relational, as caring… well, we’re still just the swag, enticing others to invest in the creator.

Thoughtfully,

Pastor Bran

Eugene Peterson's Bible study

This morning, Eugene Peterson (The Message and the Renovare movement and materials) led Bible Study. It's at 7:30 a.m., but the large room was pretty full. The thing about Peterson is he's deep, and he's been doing this a long time, so a Bible study turns into a sermon in the best possible sense -- a reflection on the meaning of Scripture in (faith) life. I took notes (which are below) so I'd remember the details and be able to share them with you. But I wish I'd showered in him -- let the words and beyond the words shower upon me. I'm not a recaller of details -- I'm more of an absorber and integrater of ideas/experiences -- so I take notes to recall. It is the washedness, the cascade, that moves and feeds me. (So spending time with Todd Agnew on stage later meant a lot for my soul.)

Anyway -- Eugene Peterson. I'm going to get the recording, if they do one, so you can hear.

Here are my notes; the Scripture is Luke 1: 67-80, known as the Canticle or Prayer of Zechariah).

------------------

(The "i" references are Peterson's -- his reflections)

We pray in the large context of God’s creation and salvation. Prayer is answering speech.

Beginners and all of us “wish upwards”; this is the beginning of prayer.

I’d like to be remembered as man who demolished all the perfectionism in prayer. God is generous with his children learning (forever) how to pray. We don’t know how to pray, and yet we pray.

You never really learn how to pray – like climbing a mountain: you never learn to do it, but you learn to make your way.

One of the advantages we have is a textbook for prayer, used by Jews and Christians forever. For us, the Psalms are in the center of the Bible. If the five books of Moses are the starting place – the basic word of God – and the Gospels are the starting place – the revelation of Jesus – the Psalms, our textbook for prayer, are right in the middle.

Prayer is a response to the word of God – the word we get in Scripture and as individuals in our daily lives.

One of the problems of the American church is that we have prayer groups and Bible study groups, as if we could be specialists.

For 18 centuries, the church prayed the day, which orders the day. Regular set prayer rescues us from the tyranny of circumstances and of emotion. It forms our lives around and in God. (We lost a lot in the post-enlightenment after the first 1800 years.) They become the calisthenics for faith.

Zechariah’s prayer is just what I’m after today. There are five prayers in Luke – in church order (the order assigned in the hours)

1. Mary’s prayer: “Let it be with me according to your word.” (a prayer of acceptance) (early morning)
2. Zechariah’s prayer: “Blessed is the Lord, the Lord God of Israel.” (morning)
3. Angel’s prayer: “Glory be to God in the highest” (noon)
4. Mary’s prayer: Magnificat “My soul magnifies the Lord.” (evening)
5. Simeon’s prayer: Nunc dimitis “Let it be with me according to your word.” (nighttime)

You can tell from Zechariah’s prayer he’s been praying the Psalms all his life – 19 allusions to the Hebrew Scriptures in his prayer; 10 from the Psalms. The HS didn’t give him a new prayer on the spot; but he had soaked himself in God speaking our lives into being through the prayers of the Scriptures.

The death of prayer is generalization, abstraction – or just praying for whatever happens. The death of prayer is also overdetermining, functionality. Prayer is intimacy with God.

The prayer begins with Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit; it ends with John being strong in the Holy Spirit.

Luke is the only gospel writer who wasn’t in a face-to-face conversational relationship with Jesus. He’s very aware he’s in on the 2^nd phase of Xn life. As a result, he’s very aware of the power and necessity of the HS – and that the way you get in on the face-to-face with Jesus as a 2^nd phase Xn is through prayer.

Salvation is not merely saving us from our own sins, but saving us into the vast “country” of God, into God’s glory creation. We are saved into the kin(g)dom of God. It’s not just knowing where you are on the map; it’s taking in the fragrance of God. (Being & becoming in God.) It’s not about getting to the top, getting to heaven, getting to the end. The Way is about living, memory, etc.

Zechariah is praying his whole lifetime in the moment of holding the baby Jesus. It’s not the end (– it’s the wholeness, fruition, fullness).

Then he speaks to John: the prophet, the one – we! us! pastortypes – whose work is to be identified as a prophet, preparing the Way of the Lord for others. Not a historian, but telling people what’s going on, which has to do with the forgiveness of sins.

Then he speaks to Jesus: the dawn, the dayspring, from on high, breaking upon us to give light to those who are in darkness. The word “break” is related to scope – like someone seeing everything and noticing. Us. We’re suddenly in the world of God’s revelation in a fresh new way.

The conclusion of the prayer: Zechariah has been speechless since the conception of John in Elizabeth’s womb, and when he gets his tongue back -- his words have been nine months gestating in his womb – the first thing is that they burst out in prayer. He prays us into the company of those whom God has used in the world.

Prayer keeps company with the multigenerational (ancient, global) followers, faithful, pray-ers.

The center of the prayer is, “and you, child, shall be called the prophet of the most high. You shall go before the Lord to prepare his ways.” You, John. You, Eugene. (You, Elane.)

Who am I? I am the prophet, to given the word to prepare the Lord’s way. It’s not my way, it’s not my word, it’s not my agenda. It’s not my world. And the conclusion is not mine, but the light, the Lord’s – this country of salvation that I walk in, live in.

Morning prayer

As the liturgical world hunts for means to make ancient methods feel contemporary, the evangelical world discovers the value of ancient words, repeated by gathered body over centuries.

 

This morning I attended 7 a.m. liturgical prayer. There's a prayer chapel here, tabernacled in the space of two small conference rooms.  A tall rough-hewn cross is planted in the center, with bowls of candles and visuals of Jesus around it on the floor.  Fabric streams from the cross on the floor and from the ceiling, and there are other separate prayer spaces created in what is otherwise a plain institutional room. It feels intimate and holy. 

 

When familiar words echo softly in the early morning air, it also feels ancient. Or everlasting.

 

I miss this.  I'm drawn to the Hours anyway (There's a workshop on that too, here. Old is new in some places.) so it hits me where I live.

 

For a year I opened up the Sanctuary Tuesday mornings for early prayer.  I know today that I'm not the only one who longs for that order, that ancient and global connection.

 

It may be time again.

 

----

 

Eugene Peterson is emphasizing the importace of ordered prayer -- the Hours -- in his Bible study.  Ahhh....

Notes from Under the Elephant

I began my time at the National Pastors Convention this morning sharing a van ride from the airport with Elane, a gaggle of sales people from some company in the Midwest, and a man I was sure hated me.

Being a post-modern, pro-queer, evangelical Jesus-freak is not always easy. In this time in which the Christian world divides sharply and often destructively around issues of sexuality (let alone gender identity!), I often arrive at primarily conservative Christian conferences with some fear in my heart. What if someone brings up “the issue”? What if I have to take a stand? What if I fail to take a stand? What will people think of me? What will I think of me? It has been said that it’s easy to ignore the elephant in the room, unless you’re sitting under the elephant. From my elephant-impaired vantage point, it was easy this morning to project my worst fears on my fellow van-rider. His cheerful (and probably standard) response of “I’m blessed” to our “how are you” became a comparison rather than a thanksgiving. The slight movement of his head (we were sitting behind him) at the sales peoples chatter about favorite bars became an exaggerated rolling of the eyes rather than a simple stretch of the neck. By the time we disembarked at the hotel, I had already put a hundred divisive exchanges in our history. His smile and “enjoy the conference” did nothing to heal the rift between us.

Thank God for music. It was somewhere in the second praise set at the opening session that I started to actually let go. It’s hard to think the worst of those with whom you are singing grateful praises to God. Looking around the room amidst the music that reminded us of the One who thought of us above all, even upon the cross, I could think only about earthen vessels and precious treasure. All of us are broken, and all of us are beautiful. In the big picture, there is no one great dividing line, there are only all the little cracks each one of us bears, each one of us brings humbly to the feet of the Master for healing. Any person at this conference, (or anywhere, for that matter) may dislike me, and that is painful. But I know the deepest wounds we feel are those between brothers, brothers who have forgotten how alike they truly are.

Since then, I have earmarked DVDs of skits for the youth ministry (half-off from Zondervan! Woo-hoo!), found two “ah-HA!” issues in my coaching ministry about which to ask for support and accountability from the staff, tried on at least two different reframings of our church mission, reflected and wept in joy for what I have witnessed God doing with our ministry team leaders.

I have also committed to make at least one overture a day to truly connect with someone I don’t know. I’m here, Lord. And I’m listening.

Pastor Bran

Brian McLaren General Session

Of course I love Brian McLaren. See my earlier posts on that.

 

Here's what he said just now:

…       A leadership lesson: becoming a friend to myself

o       Lincoln: I desire so to conduct the affairs of this administration so that if at the end… I have lost every other friend on earth, I shall at least have one friend left, and that friend shall be down deep inside me

…       How do I talk to myself as a pastor? Meaner than I would to anyone else?

…       What do I expect of myself? Do I allow myself grace?

…       How do I respond to my failures? Do I speak to myself with any kind of grace?

…       If you’ve got a lot of people criticizing you, and you join them, you’ll be outnumbered.

1.      Acknowledge your pain to God

a.       When you take a lot of pain in, criticisms, etc., acknowledge how extinguishing it can be to the soul – and that you have a soul

2.      Find some non-utilitarian friends, friends who aren’t dependent on your sermon, work, or care. Take hold of the power of generative friendship – it’s worth getting on a plane to spend an afternoon with people who help you rest in the grace of God.

3.      Give yourself permission to create or find safe places – boundaries for protection from toxic people and situations, time and social space to think (plausibility structures).  (Sometimes when people catch your faith, you catch a little of their doubt.)

a.       Thinking is a social action … the more on the margins you are, the harder it is to think – you’re stretching and the margin is stretching… it requires connection and space. When you think with others, the center of gravity shifts (and then a countermovement happens). 

b.      Get a cohort.  And if you burst from the pack, find a new cohort.

4.      Know what recharges you .. and do it religiously. Beauty, laughter, rest, sport, art, stupid movies.

a.       And when possible, delegate or drop what drains you.

b.      Realize that ministry is not life – You have to “smoke what you’re selling” (Rob Bell). If you’re telling people to be grounded in God and care, if you’re telling them that work is not life: remember.

c.       Being a pastor is your job, not your whole ministry, not your whole life.

d.      Give yourself permission to have a life.

5.      Do pre-emptive communication: communicate clearly and redundantly and wisely – even if you aren’t certain, communicate.

a.       Do not answer a badly framed question: reframe them or deconstruct them.

b.      Ask needed questions.

c.       (“I have defended myself, but I have never regretted being kind.”)

6.      Expect criticism

a.       Prepare for it in solitude (with God)

b.      Process with friends

c.       Respond in solitude (with God)

7.      Lean into God. Believe God is for you. Stay in touch, even in doubt, maintain first order disciplines (the praying, the reading, the giving, the serving, the friendships, even when your theology about it falls apart and you don’t believe anything you’re ever preached about it.). Rely on your friends’ faith while yours is in pain.

8.      Admit what you must do, what you cannot do, and what you cannot not do.

9.      Allow yourself to be human – boldly: strengths, weaknesses, work, rest, intensity, latency, public, private, sexuality, intimacy, money, family.

a.       The great martyrs of the faith didn’t ask their spouses to go with them. Garrison Keillor

b.      A special note to young men: there is something in us as men that wants to conquer and compete, to prove yourself. In the ministry that thing can get very twisted. So that what looks like passion for God is really just a passion for marking trees.

c.       A special note to women: it’s still pretty closed to women (95/5 in evangelical churches, 85/15 mainline) – dropout rates for women are still high (and they’re higher for men than they used to be): the systemic stresses still get in the way.

d.      It’s not all about me. It’s also people, systems, change.

10.  Spend time, intelligence, money, or energy, you choose, in your professional development – consultants, good books, conferences, vacations, therapists. Invest in yourself.

11.  You don’t have to do this – to be a leader in times of transition – and it’s okay to leave. It’s not evil to leave. But you are needed, and this is a great adventure. Challenging times can destroy us, or they can elicit from us actions and virtues we didn’t even know we had.

 

Our culture has been orphaned. But maybe the times have changed, and some latent sociability may be elicited from us to nurture the culture, the orphaned world.

My new favorite website

For soaking in the presence of God through music and imagery

 

http://www.soaking.net/

Listening to nudges

Sunday, a member of Council (which is our only standing board) decided to resign to focus attention on other good works he is doing. I was really proud of him for doing that.

I've been in organizations in which anger or despair is the automatic response to resigning from a board. The underlying sense is scarcity: there aren't enough people to do the work so anyone who leaves is a traitor.

We're really trying to become a community in which people listen to God's nudges, try new things, make and keep commitments, and renegotiate their commitments when they discover that God really is nudging a different direction (or has in fact provided different gifts). It takes a lot of courage to try things, be open to course correction, and to try new things. It takes courage to be accountable to your community. And we find new life, become new, when we heed the movement of the Spirit.

Anyway, I was really proud.

After that, the meeting went to talking about an adult baptism coming up at the end of the month. The candidate wants to be baptized by immersion (which I wholeheartedly support), but being a certain stream of Christians we have no baptismal pool. The same fellow who withdrew from Council heard a nudge, and started talking specs.

Now he's leading the baptismal pool build. And two Christians will be (re)born: one through baptism, one through the touch of the Spirit.

Oh! And another man, who is officially a member of another church, but leads a shared ministry and comes to our Bible study, will stand with the baptismal candidate. Her choice.

Big grins all around.

Relieving anonymity

Christianity Today has started a new line of blog/newsletter/downloads/etc. for women leaders. I had signed up for the newsletter, and visited the blog today. Read all the entries, read the bios of the editorial board. Immediately felt unworthy.

In one of the blogs, the editor asks readers to introduce themselves. I'm thinking: sure, why not. Tell 'em who is out here rooting for them (and looking for others).

Consider using a pseudonym: Lone She-wolf (what are female wolves called, anyway?)
Consider using just a first name: Elane (that could be anybody, right?)

Decide that it's so like women to just use our first names -- as if using our last names gives us too much authority, or might truly identify us (and sets us up to be recognized for our failures -- couldn't be our successes, right?), or makes us less friendly and approachable.

Realize: that's the problem. Mine anyway: claiming my power/God's power/successes/hopes.

So I use my whole name. But I don't name my church, 'cause then I'd really be on the hook.

Apparently I still have some work to do.

We're all pagans, really

Last night we put the ornaments on the Christmas tree. Many of the lights on the strand had burned out, so the day after Christmas we'll buy new ones for next year. Used the gold and whitegold balls (medium and small) as the base, then added the special ornaments: the heavy glass ones in muted colors from India, the little creches from Mexico, the handblown venetian-style glass ones from the artist down the street. No tinsel: too painstaking, too silvery.

For years as a child I refused to allow trees in our house. There were just two of us, so one not wanting something pretty much squashed it. It didn't make sense to cut down a perfectly good tree to bring it inside to die. Christmas home as tree-torture site. One year we decorated the wall in the shape of a tree. One year we used cardboard and made a tree. Eventually Mom dragged the silver tinselly aluminum fluffy tree out of storage and threatened to put it up. We went back to real trees after that.

There's something about bringing a recently living piece of the earth into your home. When it's bitterly cold outside, and the birds long ago stopped singing, having that bit of still-bright green close reminds of warmer days, of the inevitable return of spring. The decorations? Memories of better times and hopes for new times too. Bits of twinkling to pierce the darkness, to reflect back hope.

We need our touchstones, our real things. We need living hope, and the assurance of new life. We bring in trees, but we look for Christ.

God giggles

So bought the laptop, encouraged by the husband.

One minor irony: after writing this morning about fear of unintended consequences of spending money, went into the laundry are to discover 1" of standing water. Immediately thought: "Aha! Spendthrift! Wastrel! Now you need a washing machine."

Or, in this nonalternative reality, needed to mop up where waterrepellent pillows had made it overflow.

God giggles.

p.s. got one refurbished, better specs, $300 less than anticipated. I giggle too.

When is frugality merely fear?

My writing is unreadable and my brain unstoppable: a laptop would be helpful most days, most times. Having borrowed my lovely husband's laptop on my trip to hear Brian McLaren, and having envied pastorfriend Heather's little MacBook over Thanksgiving, I've finally decided to buy a laptop. Sort of.

I've researched and price-compared and read reviews. I've done and redone our budget and reallocated our savings. I've looked at my set-aside personal money and allocated it differently. We have enough money for me to do this.

But we need new flooring and landscaping. There may be a child someday and we'll need to pay match fees. My shoes need heeling and polishing, and the car has 163k miles on it. I might want a cup of coffee while I'm out someday. So what am I doing thinking of buying a laptop?

Can you see the hideous spiral?

My brain knows very well that I live in extraordinary abundance: we have steady incomes which surpass our actual needs; I love my work; we are healthy. But something inside me is afraid, and the fear can be paralyzing.

Here's the thing about trusting God, which I really do: I feel (not think) God expects me to make reasonably good decisions, and is not about to bail me out if I buy a laptop but actually should save for flooring, or for the medical help we don't need yet but might in 30 years. Which in my little lizard brain becomes "God will only take care of your real needs if you don't do anything stupid." Which is pretty stupid itself.

So I'm working on trusting God to take care of my real needs even if I buy a laptop. Because I've decided to do that. Sort of.

Funerals

When I was in seminary, the line was that funerals were "better" than weddings. I don't remember hearing an actual person say it, but I know it was the common wisdom.

I have now officiated at a number of each. Because I require premarital counseling with me, I've spent a lot of time with couples. And because I usually don't know the deceased, I've spent a goodly amount of time with the bereaved. Here's what I know:

• Engaged people lie. A lot. They lie to each other and they lie to me. Most of the time they don't realize they're doing it.
• Bereaved people lie. They do it to protect the good memories, and so as to not affront anyone.
• Engaged people are focused on the wedding day. The rest is too hard to contemplate, and a great unknown.
• Bereaved people are focused on the funeral. The rest is too hard to contemplate, and they fear they do know it.

But everyone is relieved, for a moment, when the event is over. And God attends every wedding and funeral God is invited to.

A couple of weeks ago, a woman attended our worship service for the first time. She looked vaguely familiar, but since she was sitting with a woman I knew I figured I'd met her before. Turns out I'd performed her wedding a couple of years back, and that the marriage had broken up, for all the reasons I'd warned them about. She hadn't remembered that this was "my" church, and I hadn't remembered her. She came and left, lightly.

We held a funeral on Monday for a woman I had never met. Her husband is a sweet and good man, broken by the loss of his wife. He had the funeral at our church campus because he and his wife had been married there 20 years ago. The pastor at that time basically told him he needed to shape up and be a man to his wife. And he was, and he said goodbye to her Monday.

I can't say I prefer funerals, but I know that God is asked to attend them more often.

Christmas presence

My lovely husband keeps asking me what I want for Christmas. I already circled the slippers in the Lands' End catalog, but I think he wants another answer. I told him I want a full day off, but that's not what he's looking for either. An esthetician appointment? No.

"What do you want for Christmas? What present?"

What present, indeed.

Here's what I want for Christmas:

• I want to see God. Not just "God in another human being's face", not a namaste moment. I want to see God ("and live", would be nice too).
• I want all the people who are grieving to get a break. There's so much grief around right now, and it hurts. A selfish request, but it's my present list, after all.
• I want to be fearless.
• I want to know whether God has a child for us in the plan. Either way is fine, but I'd like to know.
• I want the seven or eight children in our church who I really worry and pray about to find one good adult to guide and love them.
• I want the adults in our church whose pain is so buried that they're destroying themselves to sit down and dig -- and to let someone be with them in it. I want them to want healing.
• I want our country to gain some perspective and humility, and our President to listen to people who disagree with him.
• I want more time with my lovely husband.

I want Presence in the present.

But shoes are always good too.

Inside is winter

The only excuse for not posting is lack of discipline. Christmas season is busy for church people, but it's busy for everyone.

My nonChristian friends are often just as busy as I am, or more. They're shopping and baking and making their homes fancy and fanciful. I have visited friends in mid-December, and stepped into former apartments or hovels or houses that had become winter wonderlands. Why is it that we in warm climates do what we can to simulate German landscapes, with fir boughs and holly and pine cones? And those in colder climes bring simulated snow into their living rooms, as if they regretted the heat they so dearly pay for?

Perhaps we bring winter inside to warm our hearts. With what shall we warm the world?

Time to start writing again. Keep me at it, okay?

Brian McLaren at Soliton Zoo #2

I said in the first post that the McLaren's talk brought oxygen. For me, this was much-needed breathing space. But in the afternoon session you could feel people's tension, as more oxygen created more light and heat.

Light and heat are not always comforting things, esp. when the talk is of hell and the kingdom of God. What I find deeply reassuring in McLaren's work is precisely what others find challenging: McLaren is breaking through multiple hidden boundaries of understanding. For me, that makes fluidity; for others, chaos.

Thesis, simply put: in the West, for a thousand years or so, some of the theological questions we've asked have not been the best ones. At least, our questions have not been the only possible questions (hence, our answers not the only possible answers). To use a music metaphor, we've created a boxed set of greatest hits -- atonement, salvation, hell -- but there are other genres and musicalities to be found.

So, for example, our connection with God isn't: "Hell: Who's going?" or even "Jesus saved X people by doing Y".

It is instead: the kingdom of God is at hand (meaning, right here right now). How will we live in it? How will we regather, reconnect, restore, reconcile the whole of creation?

I realized, as the tears welled up, that I love McLaren because for the time I'm reading his books or hearing him speak, I don't feel alone in this. He writes and says what I don't have words for, but long to.

One of my brothers asked, heartfully, "what happens to sin? What happens to the atonement?" I think he meant, "I have experienced God's salvation in Christ. If that isn't the point, what does that mean for me?" McLaren was warm, and gentle, and did not defend or critique, but opened up a different conceptual box, and examined its contents with us.

During this talk, a listener noted that at least one major denomination has embraces the crazy concept that the earth needs to fall completely apart and be destroyed for the Second Coming to happen. As if God would have us destroy his property in order to hasten our salvation. Those among us from that denomination and its brethren listened, and reflected. Those of us whose roots are elsewhere listened, and reflected.

All that was said, was said with wonder and awe in a room that allowed difference, and humility, and pain, and joy. There is the graciousness, and the Grace.

I was so glad to be there. Sometimes God drives us 314 miles each way just to breathe the air.

Brian McLaren at Soliton Zoo (Ventura, CA) #1

First, thanks to my wonderful husband Bran for loaning me his laptop.

There are gracious souls active in the world. Some of them are in the bodies of pastors and theologians. One of them is in Brian McLaren.

McLaren speaks from and to an evangelical background and perspective -- his critique and hope rest upon those foundations of faith. He hasn't said this, but I suspect that his great driving desires (and we all have driving desires) are Christlikeness and wholeness. So his work -- his books, his speech, his operative questions -- center on the meaning and being of Christ, and integration (of being, meaning, activity, theology, etc.). That means that he seems uninterested in plotting a position and sweating to fill in the gaps and cracks, as if unassailability and permanence were the goal. (Which may be why his critics are so strident, as they stand spattered with mortar and spackle.)

So you probably want details.

• The church has always had an emerging edge -- we have never been rendered for all time in stone -- so there has never been a single "biblical" or "christian" world view (for example).
• A "good" theology must earn its acceptance, not impose it upon the world through conquer or coercion. It will be coherent, contextual, conversational, and comprehensive (meaning -- will speak to and with the other theologies around it, not comprehensive meaning permanent or impenetrable).
• Our world is not pluralistic, but fragmented. Fragmentation becomes relativistic becomes narcissistic.
• The best news can only come with vulnerability (and yes there's part of my xmas message!).
• The gospel is not any particular atonement theory: it's not "Jesus came to die for your sins." or "God sent his son to pay your debt." or "Jesus shows the falseness of empirical human power". The gospel (I love this): the kingdom of God is at hand. Reconcile.

Which of course is what Jesus himself said. (Matthew 4:17)

Selfishly, I am getting what I came for: refreshment, oxygen, spaciousness. That's graciousness, and Grace, at work.

(Plus there's nothing like being in a room of youngish people with light bulbs going off over their heads and sparks in their hearts. Whew.)

Elections

I try to keep it vaguely apolitical over here. I'm not a political leader, but a spiritual one, and I know that broadcasting my political views will alienate my spiritual charges as quickly as broadcasting my spiritual views will alienate my political allies.

That said:

The appallingly arrogant Republican Congress and White House has received a cold water baptism. "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near," quoth a dear friend of mine and yours. But that "kingdom of heaven" ain't a Democratic Congress, either. It's a place in which all human beings are treated with dignity; where the rich accept their responsibility to care for the poor, widows, and orphans; and where the planet and all things in it belong to God (and are cared for as if God were standing right there supervising).

I am tired of being called a traitor because I believe the men and women of our armed forces are being used, and are not being provided for while or after they serve.

I am tired of being treated as a heretic because I welcome gays and lesbians into my church, and because I don't believe wealth is a sign of God's favor, but of our ability to climb on the backs of others.

I am tired of "purity" being the mark of faithfulness, as if Jesus were such a standoffish kind of guy (and it seems to be working so well for Ted, Mark, and all those guys).

And I am really, really, tired of our claiming that corporations have just as many rights or more than the 18-year-old orphan girl next door to me, who cannot pay rent with what she gets paid, and dares not ever get sick.

Do I believe that the Democrats are going to do better? No, because we've all sold out to greed and fear. But I pray that this latest baptism is a mark of communal repentence. I pray that we do begin to choose differently. For the kingdom of heaven has truly come near, and God is standing right here, supervising.

God cheats

Last night, we had a wonderful, Spirit-led worship experience led by Kathleen Fagre (http://www.kathleenfagre.com). This morning I received an email from one of the people who attended, which (with permission) I needed to share with you.

I've changed some names and identifying marks, but you'll probably recognize yourself anyway...

So there I am, well out of the circle, just so I can stand up to sing, nothing to do with picking up extra space between me and all those people of course, singing away on the last song, eyes closed ...
"May the journey be a blessing, may I rise on wings of love"
...and whump! all of a sudden my arms are full of another worshipper, weeping violently.

Now we have observed before that mercy gifts are not the dominant part of my makeup and I have generally not (never if I could help it) been the person found holding anyone weeping violently. But I can't exactly kick her away either, especially not when I'm right in the middle of asking God for an increased resemblance.

So I did the only thing I could think of and prayed the song over her as strongly as I could, changed the pronouns on the last verse and tried to bring it home to her, and for a few moments anyway, saw God in her face quite clearly.

But God definitely cheats. And telling Her so makes for a remarkably unproductive conversation.

My personal DNA

The revgalblogpals blog ring is taking a "Personal DNA" personality test and posting the results.

Here are mine.

Respectful Director

Adopting

I got up this morning full of good intentions for writing something both pithy and profound about the nature of faithful living. But on my desk are scattered agency specs and requirements, two glossy photos of my husband and me, and a colorful flyer on cardstock with our names bannered across the top.

Finally, our "Dear Birthmother" letter and our photos are being printed. The web designer is getting his specs and budget. The 800 number is working. And very soon, we will be praying even more frequently and fervently about the baby we hope God is finding for us. By next week or so, my husband and I and our adoption agency will be actively looking for a mother who wants us to be her child's adoptive parents. We will be actively waiting to become parents.

I never thought I'd have an 800 number. I never thought I'd be waiting to be a mother. Amazing what God leads you to that you'd never thought you'd do, and want to do.

So nothing pithy and profound. Just life in faith.

... and the joy of new life

Last week I posted about compassion. Yesterday at our staff meeting, our music minister, Cheryl, concernedly enquired after the state of my soul, having read this blog. (Ah, those Christians: how they love one another.)

My soul is pretty good. There's been a lot of pain and grief among my people -- loss of beloved pets, postponed manslaughter trials, end-of-life decisions to be made -- as well as the discomfort that comes with change. I had posted about this last thing -- how much pain change can bring -- but I was feeling some of all of it, I think.

God lifted a lot of my own weightiness during my prayer time (and while listening and crying to great Black gospel music).

But the other thing that evened out my soul, and lifted it, was noticing little signs of new growth among the people: new ministry ideas, renewed vigor, volunteering out of desire not guilt. God working in the very cells, renewing and restoring among us.

It's the joy of new life. And yeah, Cheryl, I'm good today -- and keep asking!

Thank you, Lord, for the pain of compassion

Lord, I thank you for the pain of compassion today. It feels like weakness, God. It feels like I don't trust you. But I read about the fleshly Jesus, and his compassion, and I know it is because he trusted you that he could feel it. I pray that when I ache, when I look at someone and suffer in my bowels with him, that it is your compassion I am feeling. I pray that when it hurts, and when I am led to not trust you because of the hurt, that you turn it around and let me hurt because I trust you to help.

Gather your lost lambs, Lord, and draw them into your safety and your salvation. If I'm not the right disciple to point them to your love, if our church fails them or isn't what they need to find you, please just reach out and find them through someone else, so that they're not all alone out there.

Thank you, Lord, for living your compassionate pain among us, and in us, and through us. Even today.

Elane

Leaving and staying

The sky is creeping tangerine across a steel gray expanse, and I'm feeling blue.

95% of the time I believe that God sent me to my church to help God turn it around: to help God's people here discover a vibrant, living, active, passionate faith, and to help others find it too. (As I write this sentence I realize what "turn it around" means to me. Who knew?)

100% of the time I know that "turning it around" will mean that many people who have affiliated with the church for a long time but who don't want what God is doing there right now will leave. 95% of the time I'm not happy with that, but I'm okay with it.

Today, I'm living in the 5% of both those things: I'm not convinced God sent me to do this, or that it's the right thing to do, or that I'm doing it rightly; and I'm not okay with the sheep who are quietly wandering off. And they do it quietly... they just slip away, without comment, their memories lingering, their ministries abandoned.

It's not the loss of numbers. I really do not care about that. But I am deeply afraid that God's lambs will wander into the hands of wolves, or simply out onto rocky promontories, alone. If they find another church community and a faith that feeds them, makes them stronger and more at peace, that's wonderful. Go with my blessing. But the potential loss, and lostness, makes me grieve.

Yesterday I was angry at the lack of accountability and straightforwardness. Today I am just sad. It's grief.

Friends, if you read this, please pray for Jesus' lambs, that as they leave our fold they find another that nurtures and sustains them. And if you have an extra prayer left in you, pray for Jesus' church in Campbell, and for me, their rather blue pastor.

The Resurrections

My sister-in-law, Caitlin Scott, was inspired by one of my husband Bran's sermons, and wrote this:



Cicadas, just
their empty husk
clung to the rails
of the back steps
in the dog days
of the brick house
in Little Rock
each of the six
crisp, claw-tipped legs
sunk in gray-blue
peeling paint. Backs
arched, torn open
by the insects
bursting out and
up and free, their
exoskeletons
irrefutable
evidence
of departure
and existence
elsewhere. The child
who found one nudged
it loose, placed it
in our army
in the dollhouse.
We three at dusk
commandeering
the lightning bugs
heard cicadas
saying something
immense, filling
the failing light
and Gothic oaks
with whispers of
a place to live
and breath and have,
at last, our being.

Responding to revgalblogpals' post:

Friday Five: Brushes with Greatness
...
1. Tell us about a time you met someone famous.
How about the times I didn't, but mostly slinked past: Gene Wilder (blushing and giggling), John Lithgow (trying to avoid his feeling I was stalking, when we kept passing each other in the grocery aisles).
Or did, when they weren't really: Lea DeLaria, Tim Curry.
Or did, but it mattered not one whit to them: All of Sweet Honey in the Rock, Robin Williams, Maya Angelou, Bishop Tutu (I have been a waitress, caterer, and stage manager in my past). Oh, and Ian Anderson (did I mention I hung with roadies, briefly?)

2. Tell us about a celebrity you'd like to meet.
Meet? None. Have actual conversation with? Bono. Nelson Mandela. Kathy Griffin. Sublime, ridiculous, and in-between. Brian McLaren. God, and, well, God. Jodie Foster. Dallas Willard.

3. Tell us about someone great who's *not* famous that you think everyone oughta have a chance to meet.
Kathleen Fagre, who is an awesome worship leader based in Colorado (http://www.kathleenfagre.com) and funny and humble.


4. Do you have any autographs of famous people?
Tom Robbins -- stood in line for two hours and got kissed. Wow.

5. If you were to become famous, what would you want to become famous for?
Never wanted to be famous, though rich wouldn't be at all bad.
If I were ... I would want to be famous for having done something right and good.


Bonus: Whose 15 minutes of fame was up long, long ago?
Karl Rove (my mouth to God's ears, please) and all the corrupt cronies.
Barry Bonds -- I'm just bored with it
Anyone on any reality tv show.

Witnessing miracles

You know Einstein's saying, "Either nothing is a miracle, or everything is"? My mind tends to believe the "nothing" and my heart the "everything". But last night my mind and heart teamed up with a celebratory, "Wow."

Our friend Philip came home from the hospital after surgery for colon cancer. His doctors took out a big tumor, a foot and a half of colon, and a lot of lymph nodes. His prognosis looks very good -- no sign of cancer in the nodes.

That's not the miracle.

His family is extraordinary. You meet them for the first time and just want to stay quietly in their living room. Their love for each other, and their generosity toward the world, is palpable. It's not niceness, per se. It's love of God and others.

That's not the miracle, either.

There was a glow about Philip, and a peacefulness in the house that was not broken even when the dog started barking and the younger child energized the air. He told us about the surgery, the pathology, and the doctors. How the nodes looked really, really bad, and how amazed and relieved the surgeon and pathologist each time one turned up negative. How wonderful every one of the doctors was. How he'd had no anxiety all along.

How people all over the world had been praying for him. And how he'd felt it, felt secure in it.

We could see him and his family resting in God's hands. Secure. Safe. Illuminated. Incarnate.

My husband and I spent a lot of time praising God last night, thanking God for safe deliverance, for all the praying people, for healing of bodies and souls.

God is active, present, and healing in that family. I don't know why, and why not elsewhere, and really, I don't much care. But today, everything is a miracle, because I saw one last night, and knew it when I saw it.

That's the miracle.