When I’m engaging in a new community, one I’m building or newly joining, I am very aware of my lack of knowledge regarding norms. Norms in communities are essential to their health and well-being. The hard thing is that most often norms require storms.
What do I mean?
Norming and storming is the cycle of growth in communities. The initial folks gather and create norms. As others enter in there will be storms, conflict, and then new norms will be created. This process creates a spiral of depth in community.
Communities that seek to avoid conflict at all costs remain in a faux honeymoon. They never become all that they could be. Depth of relationship never grows.
I have been re-reading through Faithful Presence by David Fitch this last week. As I read, I am struck by the significance of presence over and against program.
Many conversations that I have with colleagues are about how to “reach” the emerging generations. I’m coming to the conclusion that this is the wrong question. The better question is, “How can we be present with the emerging generations?”
Do you see the difference? One question is about how we can, in a sense, sell/convince/capture the other is a question of being and engagement.
The first question leads to programs. If we can find the right program that will “capture” their interest then we can “reach” them and bring them in. Programs become the center of creative outlet, financial commitment, and time consumption. What is great about programs is that they are easily measured. The metrics are clear and you can determine your success by counting.
Programs in a monolithic culture are very useful. They work because we can assume what people like, want, and how they will resonate. We can also assume that people probably desire the same outcome: being part of our congregation. You see, monolithic culture is key to the success of programming and goes well beyond skin color and economic status. It needs to cut into worldview. During the mega-church boom programs were effective because it could be assumed that many, if not most, people wanted to be part of a congregation, they just needed to find the right one. People were looking for congregations that met them in their niche culture. For the sake of growth and success congregations were happy to oblige.
Then the culture changed, it fragmented, it evolved into something that was not monolithic. We slowly became more isolated from one another even under the guise of deep connection via the internet. Where we are now is the logical conclusion of what began 50 years ago. No longer are there necessarily groups of people looking for niches, now we are so desperately individualistic that the way we used to think about “reaching” people has lost much meaning. We can no longer make any assumptions about any group, much less any individual.
We must seek a new way forward. This new way is not in programs, it is in presence.
The questions before us as the people of God is not how to “reach” people. The questions are now, how can we be with people. How can we be like the God we claim to follow who “moved into the neighborhood”? As one of my favorite poets, Derek Webb, wrote, “We must become what we want to save/that’s always been the way.”
Presence demands more of us than programs. It demands that we set aside our outward desires for looking successful. It demands that we are OK with connecting for the long term. It means that we will have to give of ourselves to others in relationship and connection. We will have to understand that our metrics have to be set aside. They don’t have meaning in the new paradigm. You can’t measure relationship, connection, spiritual growth, and wholeness. Presence is not some new thing we do at our church buildings. It is an intentional living into the world within which we find ourselves.
I am becoming more and more convinced that the Lord’s prayer is the road map to being present in our families, neighborhoods, and towns. Read it. Ponder it. Let me know what you see in it…
“Pray then in this way: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one.
For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” — Matthew 6:9–15
In some reading this morning there was a line, “the earth we tread on will dissolve like the morning dawn.”
This struck me.
I live in the future. I find it very difficult to live in the moment and embody the here and now. The reality that the earth will one day dissolve like the morning dawn grabs my attention because it is a stark reminder that if I miss this moment, it is gone.
Embodying the moment, living here and now, understanding that all is vapor, therefore, enjoy the work, enjoy the play, enjoy life.
I recently spent time dwelling on Ecclesiastes and this is the same message that resonates there. We have but one life and it is a gift. What will we do with it? How will we live?
Over the last 24 hours I have discovered a new social media platform, Mastodon. I have connected with it in ways that remind of Twitter when it first go going. I am connecting with new people and beginning to build relationships. I am so excited that there may be a space where I can process, connect, and share without the worry of the trolls. It’s exciting!
In light of this, I have begun thinking about friendship. I am trying to allow myself to enter into what it means to have friends and connect. I am realizing that I need people more than I ever realized.
I have been a person that stuffs his feelings and emotions. When I was younger, I used to joke that I didn’t have feelings. If people were in my way, I ran over them (metaphorically speaking, I don’t have any hit and runs on my record). I kept folks at an arm’s length because, because why?
Because I feared losing them.
So many people in my life have left. My father wound is that he left. He wasn’t evil, or mean, or bad, he just left. Sure, he showed up every other weekend to take us to his house and occasionally showed up for a game or event. But, by and large, he left.
I don’t want people to leave. My fear is that when people get to know me, really get to know me, they will leave. You can imagine how hard this has made building a marriage. I’m still working through that. My default is always to hide. It works that way with my kids too.
To be sure, I have had many breakthroughs with my wife and we have a healthy marriage. I am more open with her than anyone else in my life.
I have a couple friends that I can be this brutally with too.
As I enter into new relationships this old fear crops up. Will they leave?
You see, the thing about friends is that they show you who you really are and that’s what makes friendship so beautiful and scary.
It’s been a bit since I last wrote a blog or recorded a personal podcast. This week, I shared with some friends how I’m feeling a bit blocked for some reason. I asked them to pray.
As I sit here today, the block remains.
One of my friends asked me if I need to sit with the block. He suggested that I may need to enter into it and experience it, to be aware of it, to be mindful of it.
“Perhaps God is asking you to be patient.”
For the last 48 hours or so, I have been. I am trying to allow myself to see the block, so to speak. During this time, I have found quiet moments to let my mind prayerfully enter in and try to embrace it fully.
What am I finding? Frustration.
That is an emotion that, for me, is negative. I don’t like feeling frustrated. Feelings of frustration are ones that I try to avoid at all costs.
One of the things that I’m learning about myself is that I try to avoid pain. As a result, I self-medicate with food and entertainment. This frustration that I’m experiencing because of a perceived loss of creativity is driving me to entertainment. I am working hard and have some accountability with food, but the entertainment piece is difficult to stop.
Also, because I avoid pain, I don’t very often “sit” in these moments of pain. I tend to move past them and away from them as quickly as possible.
I am not going to do that this time. I am going to enter in and experience the frustration. As I am being prayerfully mindful of the frustration, I am seeing some things about myself that I needed to see.
For instance, I am learning that I need a great deal of input and mental stimulation through reading and conversations. I also need to be very diligent in capturing ideas when they strike me. I can’t hope to hang on to them and hold them in my mind.
So, here’s what I’m beginning to do. I am starting to carry a small notebook in my pocket. Hopefully, I will remember to jot ideas down when they hit me. Also, I am forcing myself to read first thing in the day. Finally, I am making myself write, something, anything every day. I have found a nice little private blogging space. Maybe someday they will become public, maybe not. But it’s there and it’s for me.
What do you do when you’re feeling creatively or mentally blocked? I’d love to hear in the comments!
One of the questions that I bump into on a regular basis is, “Why doesn’t God do some signs? If God really wanted people to believe then he would do miracles and prove it.”
I wrestle with that question often, if I’m honest. I read through the Scriptures and think about what it must have been like to walk with Jesus or the prophets. Could you imagine seeing Jesus turn water into wine? Or raising Lazarus from the dead? What about actually being present when healed the leper, the blind, or paralyzed? As I think about seeing these things in person, I think, “My faith would be so much stronger if we could see these kinds of miraculous events around us.”
Yet, when I get even more honest I realize that is complete bull. My faith wouldn’t be stronger. It would be exactly as it is, middling to weak. I know this is the case because I have seen answered prayer and I always look for the “reasonable explanation” first, as opposed to simply giving God glory.
There’s a great story at the end of John 4 that is often overshadowed by the story at the beginning of John 4. The beginning of John 4 is the story of Jesus interacting with the Samaritan woman the launch of the Samaritan revival. It is juxtaposed against this story at the end of the chapter.
In the second story, there is a royal official whose son is dying and he comes and begs Jesus to save him. At the moment, Jesus is in Cana, where he famously turned water into wine. Jesus’ response is,
“Unless you people see signs and wonders,” Jesus told him, “you will never believe.” — John 4:48
I thought that was strange until I connected this story to the one before it. The Samaritans didn’t demand signs from Jesus. They believed his words.
So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers. — John 4:40–41
Now, this official comes asking Jesus do something miraculous. The crowds were probably watching with baited breath. What will Jesus do? Will he go to the official’s home? Will he be able to save the boy? Jesus calls them out in their desire for signs. All this would have done was raise the tension.
Will he heal or won’t he?
What happens next?
The royal official said, “Sir, come down before my child dies.” “Go,” Jesus replied, “your son will live.” — John 4:49–50a
The official wants Jesus to come to his home. He demands it. “Come down,” is an imperative. He is commanding Jesus to come to his home. Jesus responds to him with a command and a promise, “Go,” and “your son will live.”
The crowds must have been flabbergasted at this moment. How dare Mary and Joseph’s son speak to an official this way. What was he thinking? He had been given a command and he shot right back at the man. What was going to happen? Surely, Jesus would not walk away from this without repercussions.
What happens is this,
The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and started on his way. — John 4:50b
He believed the word. He trusted that what Jesus had said to him was true. As he went home his servants came and let him know that his son was well and upon discovering that he became well at the same time as Jesus command the Scriptures say,
So he himself believed, along with his whole household. — John 4:53b
Wait, wait, didn’t he already believe? Sure. He believed. But now there was a qualitative difference in his belief. He didn’t simply in the word of Jesus, the object of his faith was now Jesus himself.
The question we must ask ourselves, “Do I trust Jesus enough to believe him at his word?”
This father must have been absolutely desperate for Jesus to save his son. I know I would have been. In that moment I would probably do just about anything to have my son be saved from imminent death.
The man trusted Jesus at his word and went. Then when Jesus’ word was made good, he trusted him. In what ways do you need to trust Jesus at his word right now? Are you demanding signs or are you willing to believe and then believe?
We do not have to have a perfect faith. We simply need to be willing to trust Jesus at his word.
This year I’m trying something new. I am not going to make the normal new year’s resolutions. This is kind of a big deal for me. I am very much a resolutions kind of guy. Resolutions are inspiring to me, at least for a few hours or days (if I’m lucky).
I take it back, I’m going to make one resolution and then I’m setting goals. Very specific and clear goals.
I know, resolution and goal, these two things sound like a difference without a distinction. In my mind though, they are very different. Over the course of my life the resolution has become something that is not very specific but is very broad and open ended. Just the way I like it.
Goals on the other hand, in my mind, are specific and measurable. With goals I can ascertain whether or not I accomplished them. Did I reach or did I not reach them? If I did reach my goals, I can celebrate. If I’m not reaching my goals I can evaluate and try to change course to reach them.
The Resolution
This morning as I read the daily psalm in the lectionary, Psalm 34, it struck me that the opening stanza was my resolution for 2019.
I will bless the LORD at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth.
My soul makes its boast in the LORD; let the humble hear and be glad.
O magnify the LORD with me, and let us exalt his name together.
I resolve to bless the LORD at all times. This means that when there are trials, tribulations, joys, and celebrations, I will bless God. This idea of “blessing” God is to worship him, to trust him, to believe him in the midst of the every day life.
I also resolve to invite others into that blessing. To call those in my sphere of influence to magnify and exalt the name of God together. This will demand my engagement in community and relationship. There will be no room for “just me and Jesus.”
It may seem that I have two resolutions. But, really they are one in the same. The second is a development on the first. So, even though it appears to be two, I’m embracing it as only one.
This resolution is a mindset, an attitude toward living, a way of thinking about all that happens to me (and us) in the day to day of life. It is a challenge to embrace a perspective that demands faith, repentance, and community.
Other Resolutions Are Dumb
I suppose I better explain myself. As is typical for me, I make a bold statement here. I am sure you have 101 reasons to disagree with me, and you’re probably right. Yet, I have decided resolutions beyond the grand gesture that provides perspective are dumb.
They simply don’t work for me. Probably because I have in my mind a very different meaning for resolution and goal.
So, I’m setting some goals as I head into 2019. Goals that I can easily track, easily evaluate, and that have tangible results.
“Eat better.” That is what I now characterize as a “dumb resolution.”
“Exercise more.” This too is a “dumb resolution.”
Goal setting looks more like this:
Exercise a minimum of 3 days a week, including 10 miles of cardio training per week.
Track calories daily and limit intake to between 1500 and 1800.
Get established with a primary care doctor.
Publish a minimum of 3 blog posts per week.
Record 30 personal podcast episodes in 2019.
Those are my personal goals for this year. They will be challenging, but I think doable. They will stretch me, but I don’t think they will break me. They will demand me to use time well, to sleep, to read, and to use social media less. The best part? I’ve already scheduled a doctor appointment! If he’s not a tool, then one of my goals will be accomplished within the first week of 2019. #BOOM
I would love to know what you resolve this year and what your goals are. So, hit me up here with a response or connect with me on Twitter and let’s hold each other accountable.
I have been reading a great little book by Henri Nouwen called Finding My Way Home. It’s a short collection of essays. The first essay is on the powerlessness of God. It has challenged my thinking about how God works and how we as God’s people ought to work in the world.
Have you ever considered the reality that the God of the universe, the Creator, the ultimate reality, the prime mover, the Power, chose to enter the human story by becoming fully human? Unlike the gods of the myths who held onto their great powers as they incarnated, this God of the Bible entered the story by being born of a woman. He came into the world the ordinary way, as they say.
He wasn’t born into a wealthy family. He was born into a peasant home. He didn’t live a life of luxury. He lived a life of toil and work. God lived in obscurity in the neighborhood.
Yet, it was this God who would confront and subvert the powers of the world. He would eventually defeat them and overcome them. The great victory of God over the powers didn’t happen with military might but by one who would die.
The powers tried to eliminate him early in his life when he was most vulnerable. The order went out to kill the boys of the kingdom who were born about the time he was (Matthew 2:16). Why? Because the newborn “king of the Jews,” was to be more than an ordinary king. He was to overthrow the powers and bring the people out of exile.
The powerless God fled into an exile of his own and then returned. He grew up into manhood. There was nothing special about him. He was just a guy, Joseph’s son.
All of a sudden there was a baptism, a test, and water was made into wine. The blind received sight. The lame walked. Good news was proclaimed to the poor.
None of it done from a position of power. All of it from one who was powerless in this world.
He was so utterly powerless that he was eventually arrested and murdered on a Roman cross.
That should have been the end of the story.
But God, in his utter powerlessness won the ultimate victory because it was in death that ultimate power was revealed.
For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength. — St Paul
There is nothing more powerless than death. Yet, in the powerlessness of God this death was what defeated the powers and ended the exile.
When we consider the reality of how God chose powerlessness and sacrifice to gain victory over the powers it begs the question, “How do we engage this world as those live by his name?”
I often see people talking about the need for the Church to have a “seat at the table.” They mean that we need Christians in positions to influence power. In other words, we need to be powerful to make change in this world.
What if we followed the way of our Lord? What would it look like to choose the way of powerlessness?
Can you imagine a world where the Christians set aside a clamor and desire for power and instead chose service and sacrifice?
American Christianity is by and large a clamor for power. The successful congregation is measured in the size of the building and the number of attendees on a Sunday. Business metrics and congregation growth metrics are one in the same. The leadership books of the church are the same as the leadership books of the corporation.
Could it be that we as the Church have missed an important and critical calling? The calling to powerlessness.
How do our Sunday experiences jive with the Master who told people to keep him a secret? The Master who challenges crowds for wanting him just for what he could give them? The Master, who was so challenging, that he had to ask his closest friends, “Will you leave me too?”
We need to take another look and ask, “Are we following the way of power or the way of powerlessness?”
Have you ever noticed that some things are not the way that you would expect them to be?
When it comes to God, it seems that things are almost always upside down and backwards. We expect God to zig and he zags. We expect a warrior and he comes as an infant.
As we prepare, again, for the coming of Christ in Christmas we would do ourselves well to take a moment and consider who he is.
We are to be like him.
He is our big brother.
He is our mentor.
He is our King.
What does this great bringer of peace look like? Not at all what we expect him to be.
In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death — even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
This is the mindset and attitude of the great bringer of peace. What is yours?
Does anyone like being disciplined? I don’t. Yet, that’s part of what is happening as the people of God wait during Advent. I explore this idea a little in the part 2 of my ongoing conversation on Advent from the Old Testament.
This Advent season I challenged the congregation I serve to try to engage their imaginations and be surprised by Christmas. Advent is a season of waiting and preparation for the coming of the King. The people of God waited for the Messiah to arrive for 576 years. We know he has come and so we look back on that time of waiting.
But, what if we didn’t have to engage our imaginations? What if, we are in another time of waiting and preparation? What if, we have been waiting even longer for Advent to come to an end than our ancestors?
We have.
We who are on the other side of the resurrection know that Christ has come, that he has lived, that he has died, and that he has risen. We know that he sits at the right of the Father.
Yet, we still wait.
We wait for his second coming, the ultimate coming of the Christ when he finally makes all things right and makes all things new. When he wipes away every tear, when faith becomes sight.
The first century followers of Jesus were waiting with baited breath for his return. So much so, that some of the early leaders in the Church had to remind them to go to work and care for their families, because God does not work on our schedule.
Still, here we are two thousand years later and we wait.
Two thousand years later and the Christ has not returned. We continue on seeking to be the body of Christ wherever we are.
Two thousand years later we are still working out what it means to love our neighbor as ourselves.
Two thousand years later we are in Advent.
The difference between then and now is that there was a resurrection. The difference between then and now is that the Holy Spirit lives in us.
But, just like then, we wait.
Check out what Jude (yes, I know you’re humming Hey Jude! now, get out of your system, you good? OK,):
But you, dear friends, by building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life. — Jude 20–21
We build one another in our faith. We pray in the Holy Spirit. We keep ourselves in God’s love.
AND WE WAIT.
How are you waiting? Who are you building up? Are you praying? How are you loving well?
To wait with patient expectancy is an active waiting. It is not passive.
I think as we seek to live this way we experience something deep within ourselves. We will experience joy.
My hunch is this, if you are not a joyful person then you are not building others up, you are not praying, and you are not seeking to love well. If we engage in these activities then we can’t help but be joyful.
Approximately eighteen months ago I was plunged into a dark night of the soul. I stepped off a cliff and began to experience something that is commonly called, “deconstruction.” All of the answers about God, faith, and Jesus fell apart. They all seemed thin. None of them appeared to be grounded in anything substantial.
I was wrestling with faith and doubt in ways that I had never known. It was hard and frustrating and utterly painful. I desperately wanted to escape from this period of my life.
I wanted all the answers to make sense again.
My greatest desire was to hear God’s voice and feel God’s presence like I had when I was younger.
But, his voice stayed silent. His presence seemed absent.
So, I searched.
I waited.
I cried out.
I waited more.
I searched again.
I cried out again and again.
Then, God did something. He made himself known to me in his people. He showed me himself through the people who call themselves his. From that moment on I’ve had a new song, a new faith, a clearer sense of the reality and beauty and mystery of God.
I rediscovered joy.
David wrote a poem that resonates with me like it never has before. Here’s the first stanza:
I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in him. — Psalm 40:1–3
One of my favorite bands, U2, recorded a version of this psalm and it has become an anthem for me. I leave you with it:
Last night my wife and I had a conversation with our son about how I, “make people mad.” It was kind of a fun conversation because my wife kept saying, “Your dad is not a jerk about things, well, he used to be, but he’s not any more. Now, he simply knows what is right and true and he doesn’t back down.”
Those were really encouraging words for me because as I shared yesterday, I have had to be “humbled” quite a bit. But, now when I “make people mad” it’s often because they simply don’t like what they are hearing.
It turns out that when you have integrity and character those are really subversive traits in today’s society.
Some Scripture
This morning I was reading about John the Baptist in Matthew 3. He was a guy that had integrity, character, and spoke the truth. He knew who he was and who he wasn’t. He embraced his identity. I love what he says here in verse 11,
I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me comes one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.
How different is his attitude than ours? Can you imagine a pastoral transition where the outgoing pastor says of the incoming one, “Folks, this guy is such a great man that I’m not even worthy to carry his shoes.”
What usually happens?
Usually, the outgoing pastor has either been fired or if he’s retiring and trying to pass off the baton he sticks around and makes life miserable for the new guy.
These are the moments that show us what a person’s character and integrity are. Can we come to terms with the reality of who we are not? This was one of the key things about John being a man of integrity, he knew who he wasn’t. He wasn’t the Christ and let everyone know.
Do you know what happened to John the Baptist?
He lost his head.
Quite literally.
The powers that be didn’t like him and had his head removed from his neck.
It turns out that being a person of integrity and character was pretty subversive in the first century too.
So What?
What does any of this have to do with Advent and joy? That’s a great question. I think that one of the ways that we experience joy is in the context of living out of our identity. Being who we are in every sphere of influence we find ourselves in.
What I mean is this: We are to be the same person at home, at work, at play, with family, with friends, and with strangers. We are to live a life that is integrated and is based in who we are and the acceptance of who we are not.
When we live this way we will begin to experience joy. Not necessarily happiness. When you live with integrity and character it is not always going to be easy (thankfully you probably won’t lose your head), and so you might not necessarily be happy. However, joy is deeper and more enduring than happiness.
Joy is a sense of contentment knowing who you are and how you are to live.
