ZOE Nashville

There are very few conferences Kara and I get to attend together. Actually, there are very few conferences either of us would necessarily want to be at together. However, this weekend is the exception. One of the highlights of the year, ZOE Nashville is this Thursday through Saturday at Woodmont Hills Church. Thursday and Friday is the leadership conference. Friday and Saturday is the worship conference.

I'm leading sessions"mission in the city" (scripture intersecting the urban context) and "preaching/teaching as public leadership" (with emphasis on media and film). In all, seven sessions.

First on the agenda Thursday morning . . . Kara and I will eat at Pancake Pantry. One friend told me recently, "They have special assessment programs for people with Pancake Pantry fetishes!" If there is a rehab place in America for people addicted to Caribbean pancakes, book me a reservation.

Emerging Artist at Rochester Church

A few years ago, Chris Lindsey and I created EA at Rochester Church. EA (known as Emerging Artist Night) was created to give both Rochester Church artists and artists from our local community a space to demonstrate their talents and gifts inspiring all to see ourselves as artists. Two theological convictions drive this experience. First, God is an artist. This is the first lesson we learn about God in Genesis. Second, God chooses to reveal himself locally. God is not interested in abstract descriptions for he is a God that is about moving into real spaces and neighborhoods. Because our church is primarily committed to being in the Rochester Community--we have to reach and develop artists who help us to understand true beauty, justice, spirituality, and relationships.

Wednesday night was another EA night. It was powerful. From new songs to film, to another great sessions with Peter LeClair and Carmen Paradise (a.k.a. The Marvins)--it was a night to remember. Peter unveiled a new song, Mr. Foolish 2, inspired by my encouragement for them to watch The Notebook (of all movies) during our mentoring sessions prior to their wedding. We also had a special guest--my friend, Paul Blackburn from Gomez Band, showed up to play a little guitar. Kara and I had dinner with Peter, Carmen, Paul, Rachelle (and Rachelle's mom) afterwards and talked about life, love, music, spirituality, marketing in America, life in the U.K, Lars and the Real Girl, and Bono (of course).

Here's a video from Gomez. I love this song.

Senate Prayer

Please join me in prayer . . .

We acknowledge God as Creator and Sustainer of this world.
You have charged us to be good stewards of your creation and your children.
We confess our fragility in this project for we sometimes fall short of this vision.

At times, we vote out of fear.
At times, we don’t tell the truth because the truth won’t get us what we want.
At times, we spin reality, hoping our creative tales will buy us one more day.

Hear our confession today.

Republican, Democrat and Libertarian—we pray to the same God, read from the same holy texts, and attempt to interpret the same constitution. Yet, our understandings of You, our implementation of holy texts and our convictions regarding the constitution are varying, often at odds.

We pray you would comfort those who are broken, distressed, and without hope.

We ask that you give those of us who have been blessed the courage to live our lives as a blessings to everyone around us.

Help us to take our jobs seriously, knowing that work is a gift from You.
Help us not to take ourselves too seriously, lest we think our passions and beliefs are the most important.

As we work today, remind us that “the future belongs to the creatively maladjusted.”
As we work today, remind us that we are all caught up in “an inescapable mutuality.”
As we work today, remind us that there is no greater love than that which compels one human to lay down their life for another.

You created us from dust, and to dust we shall return. That you have breathed life into all of us is something we cannot ever fully comprehend.

This knowledge dares us to live a life worth believing in.

Amen.

Prayer for the Senate

Tomorrow morning, I'm offering the opening prayer for the Michigan State Senate in Lansing. Alan Sanborn, a state senator who is a part of our church family, recently invited me.

In your estimation, the culturally savvy Christian engaged with the world, . . . what would you pray about were you in my shoes?

Tables

Recently I (with the help of generous church supporters) purchased three eight-foot tables. The tables cost $76 a piece. Three tables plus tax . . . $237. The tables aren't much to look at. They are white with gray legs. The tables are plastic. Much lighter than the old wooden tables which still collect cob webs and spilled apple pie in many churches and synagogues all over this country. As we loaded up for Cass Park, I scribbled, in elementary-esque handwriting (due to awkward grooves clearly not designed for writing) Cass Park. 

Today, we put those tables to use in Cass Park. 

On these tables rested chicken, potato salad, cake, snacks, lemonade, water, pop, toothbrushes, deodorant, plates, forks, napkins, spoons and knives. Plastic utensils of course. 

Without these tables, the afternoon is awkward and artificial. Without the food, social power games of old rear their ugly head. 

With the tables (and the excellent food) . . . conversations break out, prayers rise up from the sidewalks, stories are told and re-told (and told again), friendships are renewed. Laughter then replaces a scowl, and despair gives away to hope. The trees are a bit greener. The sun is slightly brighter. The air, a little more pleasant. 

Christianity is a strange religion indeed. Brilliant but strange. 

God takes the ordinary things of life and turns everything upside down. Water. Blood. Food. Wine. Feet. Fishing. Perfume. Bread. And . . . of course tables.  

"Want to change the world?" I can hear Jesus ask his disciples. "Pay attention to your tables."

WE HAVE DONE IT OURSELVES

Lao Tsu once wrote:

Go to the people
Live with them,
Learn from them,
Love them.
Start with what they know,
Build with what they have,
But with the best leaders, when the work is done, the task
Accomplished,
The people will say,
We have done it ourselves

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Last night, during our mid-week service, several of our college students participated in our Can I Get a Witness? series; discussing their six-week immersion into life in Uganda with the Jinja Mission Team. They told stories, read poems, testified to the difficulty of being American in Africa, bore witness to the love and hope springing forth from poverty and H.I.V. . . . I could not be more proud of these emerging leaders and their commitment to live for the sake of others. "Don't ask what the world needs. Instead, ask what makes you come alive . . . because what the world needs is people who've come alive."

Silence and News from U2

Richard Foster recently had this to say when asked "what is the discipline that you think we need to be exploring more at this point?"

Solitude. It is the most foundational of the discipline of abstinence . . . The evangelical passion for engagement with the world is good. But as Thomas a Kempis says, the only person who's safe to travel is the person who's free to stay at home. And Pascal said that we would solve the world's problems if we just learned to sit in our room alone. . . .

And of course, you can't be alone unless you've learned to be with people. Solitude teaches us to live in the presence of God so that we can be with people in a way that helps them and does not manipulate them.

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New Testament scholar and close friend Greg Stevenson recently shared this breaking news on the U2 front regarding their upcoming album (and future in general).

‘This is our chance for us to defy gravity once again, ‘ explains Bono, calling in from a break in recording sessions in the south of France. ‘ We have what it takes, we have the songs, new rhythms and a guitar player who is not ready to re-enter earth's atmosphere until he's taken a slice of the moon!

Believe What is Already True . . .

I've found myself drawn to this quote over and over again this week.

"We don't serve God to gain His acceptance; we are accepted, so we serve God. We don't follow Him to be loved; we are loved, so we follow Him. It is not what we do that determines who we are; it is who we are that determines what we do . . . To live the victorious Christian life you have to believe what is already true about you,” (Neil Anderson in Victory over Darkness).

Teacher Man

Today is Kara's first day of substitute teaching. She started a graduate degree in education recently and decided to get out of the bank world and into the classroom.

As she left this morning, I was reminded of my one-year stint as a substitute school teacher in the Metro Nashville Public School System while I was finishing seminary. Nashville Public Schools is an interesting outfit. The overwhelming majority of students are minorities for, unlike Metro Detroit for instance, most of the white kids in Nashville attend a private school. Anyone who's taught in Nashville will attest to this. It's unusual. While I don't think every child should enroll in public school, I'm also skeptical of the idea of those who believe every child must, in the name of family values, be home-schooled or private-schooled. Every child is different. It's complicated. Jesus seemed awfully interested in being salt, light, cities on hills.

Laotian. Hispanic. Kurdish. Black. These were the four major groups I interacted with the year I taught in Nashville.

These kids are bussed all over the city, to sit in the classrooms which used to be filled with the more affluent white children. When Jim Crow Segregation fell in the South, the complexion of the school system changed. Some say Jim Crow didn't die; Jim Crow just went under-ground.

I will never forget one of my first teaching experiences in MNPS.

I reported to an elementary school on the east side of town in a well known Hispanic- Latino section. I was to teach First Grade.

I reported early (I frequently left our apartment early for fear that the engine in my Dodge would overheat, leaving me stranded and unable to get to the minimal paying job) and began to take attendance. These kids were shy. More so than most six and seven-year-olds.

We stumbled through the beginning, the Pledge, and the morning story-time. Late in the morning, I took the students to music class. One of teachers struck up small talk with me.

"So, how's the morning going so far?"

"Pretty good," I said mustering the most bravado one could hope for in light of the fact that as a substitute, I was a recognized, ordained, labeled Outsider.

"So, do you speak Spanish?"

"Me? No. I ummm . . . I had four years of French. No Spanish though."

"Wow. How are you connecting with the kids? You do know that it's an ESL class?"

In that moment, I ran the call letters E-S-L through my head a dozen times. ESL, ESL, ESL . . . I know that code. It's code for . . . oh my . . . it's code for English as a Second Language. My face must have turned into the same face I make when I drink sour milk.

"Oh, sure. It's a little difficult but were managing," I whispered with a lump in my throat.

Immediately, I turned around, walked back to my classroom. It turned out that I was "teaching" (if you could call it that) a class with students who barely, if at all, spoke English. No wonder I'd received large smiles and blank stares the entire morning.

Oh mon dieu. Que pasa?

He Sent Them to Galilee . . .

“Only novels know of time machines reversing the tides of the centuries. The myth of a return to the golden age is more pagan than Christian. Christ did not leave his disciples with a promise to lead them back to the Garden of Eden. He sent them to Galilee . . . to the world of humble tasks, trials, sickness, sorrows which he had encountered in his ministry, and to the hopes, struggles, and expectations of common folk," Lucien Legrand in The Bible on Culture

COME AS YOU ARE

Christ Church Macomb (our first multi-site effort for the Rochester Church) launched in March of this year. I'll never forget that Sunday for it was a day to remember for many reasons.

I had been planning to spend all week (immediately following the launch day) in Cass Park with several students from Rochester College for an Urban Plunge. This is our annual urban spiritual formation retreat, one of the highlights of the year for me. Because we were coming from Cass Park, where we'd just fed almost 300 people, I decided to invite a few of my homeless friends to the opening worship gathering of Christ Church. I thought they would enjoy it . . . and I thought it would be good for the folks present at the launch.

About halfway through the time of worship, a friend tapped on my shoulder. "They need you in the men's bathroom right away."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"They need you now."

Kara was sitting with me. Sitting next to her was one of our friends from Cass Park, Aleeya. I told both of them, "I'll be right back."

As I approached the bathroom, some of our students explained to me what had happened. One of our friends from Cass Park decided to make the most of the excellent facilities. Frank, an older man with a deep Caribbean accent almost impossible to interpret, was now standing mostly naked (work with me here) in the bathroom, in front of the sink, giving himself a make-shift bath.

Later, Ashley Harrison would report the reaction of the school janitor (CC:M meets in an elementary school) who, many of us have determined, talks exactly like Joe Pesci. "Ashley," in his high pitch tone, ". . . Ashley . . . this can't happen. He's naked."

Ashley handled the situation like a champ.

Eventually we got Frank dressed, disaster averted. The funniest part of this entire story happened a few days later when I e-mailed the leadership team of CC:M with a simple one line response: "Team: CCM's tag-line all year has been 'Come as you are' . . . I suppose Frank really believed this."

Sunday is the re-launch. I don't think Frank will be there. If he shows up, however, we'll make room. There's always room for Frank in this family.

Random

Christ Church Macomb is moving to a new time this Sunday. Join us for a great morning of worship and testimony followed by a block part from noon to three p.m. Worship begins at 10:30 a.m.

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My friend in Nashville, Lee Camp, is continuing his interesting work of bringing together religion, music, art, and literature (among other things). Check this site out.

NOTE: I had the wrong site for the Lee Camp link. I apologize, it's now fixed!

Priceless

Kara is quite the organizer.

Recently, she went through a bunch of drawers, boxes, and files . . . in that process I found a card she'd written to me a few years back. Here's an excerpt:

". . . [T]o try and put into words the experience and feelings of the past two years is impossible. Yes, some days are rough, but if I could only live two years, it would be the last two. You have showed me a new and true part of myself, I have learned to love deeper and live out loud 'louder' since falling in love with you."

I would not trade these moments for anything under the sun.

TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN IT USED TO BE

One of the big (if not biggest) debates happening in philosophical/religious circles is the nature of truth. There are all kinds of complex words one could throw in at this point . . . but that only caters to a select few. Suffice to say, the discussion of truth is paramount . . . especially if a church is serious about entering into culture (where people are currently "at") to offer a word of grace, forgiveness and hope (Paul called this "the ministry of reconciliation").

Let me use a baseball analogy here to illustrate how different people perceive truth. I did not come up with this, it's pretty common.

The first umpire says, "I call balls and I call strikes." Let's call this the naive objectivist viewpoint. This view is as arrogant as the next, though most in this camp would not admit this the case. The naive objectivist believes that truth is universal (for all times and places), transcending "particularities." For instance, for many years, sophisticated culture believed that the universe revolved around the earth (how convenient!) . . . now we know better for the earth, in fact, revolves around the sun.

The second umpire says, "It's not a ball until I call it a ball. It's not a strike until I say it's a strike." This is the arrogant subjectivist perspective. In this view, truth is always relative, contextual to my own understanding and/or experience. This understanding of epistemology (how we know what we know, or how we arrive at what we know) is suspicious of overarching stories (sometimes called metanarratives) which make absolute claims about reality. Why? Because for too long, these overarching stories have been used (e.g. science, religion) to silence minority voices, kill innocent people, inflict pain upon people who would not "convert" to a particular system.

The third umpire says, "I call it like I see it. If I think it's a strike, that's what I'll call." I like this view because it offers a third way. It rises above the first umpire because it admits that I make truth claims out of my own experience. I cannot NOT be me. It critiques the second umpire because it ultimately wants to make some kind of conviction about reality and life; some kind of moral structure to one's life.

One wise thinker is often quoted (at least by me) for his summary of this entire discussion. "I believe in absolute truth (also known in Christianity as God) but not in my ability to understand God absolutely."

If you think the previous is "bunk" at least this might provide you a framework for understanding how many in North America approach religion and values. How people arrive at "truth" means everything for how Christians do evangelism, church, gospel, faith, and community.

More on that to come.

Same Kind of Different as Me

I won't spoil the plot . . . but, if you get a chance, check out the book Same Kind of Different as Me by Ron Hall and Denver Moore.

All I'll say is this. I was exhausted last night. I picked up to read a few chapters and ended up staying up halfway through the night to finish. I laughed, cried (but hey, I watch Chick Flick's . . . remember?), and I felt a sense of deep hope for this broken world.

It begins outside a burning plantation hut in Louisiana... and an East Texas honky-tonk... and, without a doubt, in the heart of God. It unfolds in a Hollywood hacienda... an upscale New York Gallery... a downtown dumpster... a Texas ranch. Gritty with pain and betrayal and brutality, it also shines with an unexpected, life-changing love.

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In the spirit of Elie Wiesel (see posts from last week), I've decided I'm not going to blog about politics until after the election. There are many reasons, some good, some not so good . . . however . . . the venom being unleashed by Christians (right and left) is disturbing and I don't want to contribute to that in any way these next twelve plus weeks. So, that's my promise. I'm fasting from blogging about politics. If you are Republican, Democrat or independent . . . please show humility and grace to those around you.

Lipscomb and Nashvegas

Thursday night, I had the honor (and scary proposition) of speaking at the opening graduate chapel for the students in the (ol' alma mater) Hazelip School of Theology. It's an exciting time around Lipscomb, there are so many things a changin'. The faculty is as good as any other faculty in Churches of Christ. I would highly suggest anyone considering going back to do graduate work in theology or ministry . . . do your homework and see what Mark Black, Terry Briley, John York, Philip Camp, John Mark Hicks, Lee Camp, George Goldman, David Fleer, Earl Lavender and company are dreaming for the future of theological training.

Lee gave a charge to all of the students near the end of our time of worship. It was brilliant. I'm going to try and get my hands on it soon.

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This morning, I hung out with Doug Sanders. I thought I had a heart for the city. Doug took me from housing projects to shelters to a meeting regarding the incredible work being done by ROCKETOWN (Michael W. Smith's brainchild). I met several men and women who've given their life to working with people who lack a voice in mainstream culture. I could not believe how many of the workers, directors, and homeless people knew Doug by first name . . . the second he got out of his car, "Doug . . . what's up brother?"

Doug is going to help me with the leadership track (Th/Fri) for the upcoming ZOE Conference Nashville. If you haven't signed up for ZOE Nashville . . . the clock's ticking.

Leadership

If you have a chance to read Wade Hodges blog today on church leadership, do it.

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After my freshmen year of basketball at the college level (which, no matter level that is, is so far removed from the world of high school sports) I decided that I wanted to transfer to a different school. Partly because I thought I should've played (I red-shirted that year), partly because I wanted to get out and see more of the "world"--something I'd get to do for grad school by living in Nashville and Abilene. I went to my coach, Garth Pleasant, who I've written about on this blog in the past . . . and the conversation went something like this.

"Coach, I want to be up front with you. I'm thinking about going to ______ instead next year."
"Really?"
"Yes. I've thought this over" (I'd pondered this decision for all of two weeks) " . . . and I think this is what I'd like to do."
"Well, I'm really surprised to hear you say that. We have big plans for you. We want you to be here. We think you have a chance to be a really good college player."

Something clicked inside of me in that moment. In my immature mind, I thought leaving was the answer. I thought my surroundings were the result of feeling depressed. The truth is always much more complicated than that. The truth is that what I was really looking for affirmation, for someone to say, "we value you" and "you have a place here." Instead I masked that need for something else.

This happens on college campuses all the time. Happens in marriages, at churches . . . we think that if our circumstances change, our hearts (and general disposition) will follow. This simply isn't the case. If it's true that "the hardest place to live is right where we are", as one great thinker has written, than "right where we are" is the only place God can break into our life.

It's also a reminder to us "leaders"--sometimes people aren't following us because we've simply failed to ask.

I decided to stay and play for Coach Pleasant for four more years. Four of the best years of my life.

As I prepared to preach at Rochester Church yesterday . . . these words were on my mind: "For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, 'Do it again' to the sun; and every evening, 'Do it again' to the moon . . . It may be that he has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we." --G.K. Chesterton

I know I've posted that before . . . but I love this depiction of God.
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I was able to watch the U.S. Men's basketball team defeat Spain (thanks to modern technology). What an incredible game. One has to give credit to Spain for constantly coming back just when it looked like the game was over. If not for some guy who speaks fluent Italian (Kobe), Spain might have the gold instead. That was a fantastic game to watch. I still think this team is a notch down from the original Dream Team of 1992.

Wiesel Continued . . .

I don't quite know how to describe the Elie Wiesel event from this past week. Patrick's recollection contains a great story.

The auditorium was at capacity by 6:30 p.m.--Wiesel didn't enter the room until 7:20 p.m. When he finally entered, the entire room (about 950-1000) erupted in sincere applause. There's something special about having a force like Wiesel in a smaller, more intimate setting. I suppose it would be similar to listening to Eric Clapton play in a smaller venue, or hearing Maya Angelou recite her work in a high school auditorium. The venue was large enough for the event to feel important, small enough that the audience felt like participants, not spectators (as happens in church most Sundays).

As for the speech . . . Wiesel stood in one spot the entire 50 minute presentation. He weaved rabbinic wisdom and story-telling, with personal wisdom and lessons regarding "the power of language for forgiveness and reconciliation." There were times he strayed into philosophical fields and historical nuance, but, for the overwhelming majority of his speech, he kept the diverse crowd within reach.

There were too many great quotes to list in their entirety (e.g. "I am defined by me relation to you. If I honor you I honor God. If I dishonor God I dishonor you." Or . . . "After the Holocaust, of any other profession, writers committed suicide at a higher rate than any other profession. Why? Because, writers need words to make sense of their life. And survivors of the Holocaust shared one conviction in common: we had no words for the abandonment we'd experienced." Or . . . "A handshake sometimes has the weight of a poem." Or . . . If Auschwitz did not end racism in the West, what could?")

Wiesel shared several incredible stories of his work in reconciliation with well-known world conflicts and leaders. One story lingers in my heart . . .

Following Nelson Mandela's release from prison, Wiesel held a reconciliation conference in which he invited the then President of South Africa, along with Mandela. After listening to Wiesel and Mandela describe the brutality of ethnic genocide and institutional racism, the young president stood up and declared to the entire audience, "I was born into apartheid, it's all I've ever known. My fervent wish is that I now am able to attend its funeral."

We only get one brief shot to make a difference in this world. Most of us might not have the opportunity (or burden) to impact the world to the degree of Elie Wiesel. I am certain however, that with our very words, we can create and heal more worlds than we'd ever thought possible. I left the Wiesel event with more hope than I've had in a long time. Enough hope to think that God might do his best work in the midst of human chaos and suffering.

Cardboard Testimony

When you get a chance, watch what Richland Hills Church did recently in their gathering time recently. What a powerful reminder that all of us have a story of life, death, and resurrection. I'm grateful that Churches of Christ have a church like Richland Hills which is willing to re-imagine and re-think the task of reaching those who don't know Jesus. The mission drives everything they do.