Wednesday, December 10, 2008

on not getting things done and other thoughts.

We are beginning to re-think the idea that efficiency is something to be highly valued. I could list, I won't but I could, a number of wonderful moments in our lives here thus far that would have been swept away or ignored had we been evaluating them based on their expediency or their "cost-benefit' ratio. The efficient minister, or at least I would be this way if I prioritized efficiency, stands to miss many important moments in the name of getting things done. (I think though to really value inefficiency, I do have to get better at being focused so that I create space for inefficiency...clearing the urgent so I can see the important etc...) Thoughts?

I read this statement today...Humility is the ultimate expression of courage...hmmm? I think I will chew on that sentence for many days to come...

I also really like the idea of cultivation...I'm reading a book that uses that idea as a framework for leadership...makes sense, gotta keep thinking.

Christmas ethos makes me really happy; trees, fireplaces, old movies, cookies and white elephant parties...it is hard to beat this time of year. I just hope that I am not wringing the import of the season by detaching these ideals from Immanuel. (On the other hand, I am simultaneously participating in the rhythms of advent more fully than I ever have, pretty reflective month so far)

Congrats to Travis on 10,000 days, may you have tens of thousands more. Congrats to Gator and fam on the expansion project, may you have tens of thousands more...

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

more than the nightwatchman waits for the morning

"My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning..."

A night watchman waits in the dark. He paces slowly, methodically, through his appointed rounds. The only sound he wants to hear is the click of his shoes hitting the floor as he guards his post through the night. Any other sound is out of the ordinary. Any other sound means something is wrong.

The night is fraught with fear. He waits for the courage morning brings. The night is full of anxiety. He longs for the peace that comes with the sunrise. The night has many friends with names like uncertainty, suspicion and worry. Daybreak chases them away.

But daybreak is still hours away and the night watchmen must watch the hours between sundown and sunup. The rhythm of his rounds helps the watchman count down the hours…minutes…seconds until morning. Until his fear and anxiety are slicked in the warm flood of light that finds its way through the windows.

What if there were no morning for the night watchman? What if the long, dark loneliness of night didn’t end with the redemption of the morning? What if the night continued forever? The watchman asks these questions to himself as he tiptoes around the corners of the dark building, hoping to find each hallway as empty as the one prior. The night watchman probably wonders if night will ever end as the beam from his flashlight is seemingly swallowed up by the oppressive darkness midnight carries with it. With each corner turned and each room examined, the watchman’s longing for morning grows stronger and stronger. If there is no morning, there is only despair.

"The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned."

And then there is dawn. The fearful darkness flees from the light of day. Once dark objects take shape again and the fearful uncertainty of night is replaced by the joy that morning has come and the hope that it will come again tomorrow…the next day…every day.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning….In him was life, and that life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

on the search for a third space

I was reading a while back about the idea of the "third space." Interesting idea. The idea is presented that most people have three distinct places in their lives, distinct arenas, or stages where the drama of life unfolds. The first two are obvious, home and work. The interesting thing to me is the idea of the third space. In this final space, people, the theory goes, search for a place of belonging, a place to relax, to spend leisure time, to give their down time a context or meaning.

Third spaces are everywhere, diners, bars, coffee shops, book stores...the list goes on as endlessly as there are creative people who find places to belong. People need these kind of spaces, away from home and work where "everybody knows your name..." There is something about this sense of belonging that really drives people to be a regular at the corner diner or the neighborhood pub.

In many ways, the church is a third space. The church is a place away from home and work where people find a place to belong and gives context and meaning to life. Interestingly, the church is the only place that, should, attempt to dump those people back out into the wilderness of life to engage people in their own third spaces. In that sense, the church is really more of a 2.5 space, as it exists as a hospitable place of welcome and belonging, but so that each one might better live outside of the space itself. This is different than the coffee shop or pub. Those spaces equip you to stay inside and do nothing about life outside the space itself. The church challenges Christians to live well in other people's third spaces.

As a pastor, the challenge for me is that church is not only my place of belonging but also my place of employment. The past 2.5 months have been a search for another space, coffee shop, diner, library, some place that I might be a regular, so as to intersect lives with other people. The search has been frustrating so far, although that is probably due more to unreasonable ideals than anything else. But it feels to me like this is an important step for me. I need to find a place, not because I lack a sense of belonging, but because the gospel calls me to live well in other people's third spaces...the search continues.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

an examined life: on asking questions

Lately, I have been wondering whether or not I am good question asker. I am afraid of being someone who lives life with their head stuck in the sand, hoping problems will pass by without my knowing. There are many days when I feel numb to the hard questions that life poses or at least would pose if I would allow it to. It is, to me, troubling to be naive or unthoughtful. I don't want to follow Jesus unthinkingly (I'm not sure that is a word, but you get the point).

The reason is that an unexamined life seems to me to be an indefensible life. How can I answer questions posed to me by others if I have not thought about them on my own? How can I give reasons for anything; my values, convictions, opinions, my hopes, dreams etc. unless I have taken time to really consider them myself? If I am challenged on a particular piece of my worldview, how am I to respond unless I have taken time to examine my life, or made an effort to be a thoughtful follower of Jesus?

In my opinion, the answer is, I can't. Unexamined lives rely on pithy statements or cliches to get them through life's questions. Even if the statements and cliches are in some sense true, the truth of it is probably lost in my casual casting of it.

The challenge for me is the fear of what I will find. If I really start to grapple with life's hard questions, or the difficulties and obstacles to faith; what will I find? For me, the temptation to live a numb, unexamined life is fueled by a combination of a desire to be comfortable (that is probably code for lazy, I'll get back to you on that) and this fear or apprehension of what I will find if I explore these questions deeply. I have seen far too many people abandon principle at the hand of intellectual exploration, and so part of me is probably afraid of where I will find myself if I start to ask good questions.

I don't, however, think this releases me from this challenge of examining my life (by that I, of course, mean everything about my life). If I really trust that God is the God of the universe then he is probably unfazed by my feeble attempts at understanding. I am probably not going to stump him. If he promises to walk with us through the valley of the shadow of death, then he will probably walk with me through the valley of my curiosity too.

I have also learned that I have to have a healthy distrust of myself in this process as well. What I mean is, my logic has often proved illogical and my feelings have often betrayed reality. So, in that, it is entirely possible that answers to my curiosities lie outside the bounds of my oft stunted logic and regularly manic emotions. At the same time, those are the best discerning tools I have on my own. I guess faith is, in some way, the intersection of where my reasoning faculties end and the Spirit's voice begins. Perhaps that is what it looks like to lean on something other than my own understanding alone.

I think God would honor and welcome the earnest pursuit of knowing Him like that, I just hope I have the courage to ask about it sometime...

Thursday, October 30, 2008

season ending reflections

Well, another season has come and gone. The greatest game in the world has once again crowned a champion and a city waiting decades for a championship gets to savor the taste of victory. Congrats.

The other day I saw a commercial advertising hi-def television and it used baseball as its marketing ploy. The man buys an HDTV and all of a sudden he experiences baseball in all new ways...his nostrils are singed and he is blown away by the blistering baseball action he now experiences due to the wonders of modern technology.

I don't know about you, but I have never experienced baseball in this way. I don't know of anyone who ever has. It is not that baseball is not exciting. It certainly has its moments that keep you on the edge of your seat. But, in the main, that isn't what baseball is about. This game is not about the fast-paced, it is about the methodical. It isn't about packing every second with movement, it is about creating space for reflection and conversation. Baseball is a game devoted to intricacy, not smashmouth action. To suggest that a TV can help you capture this kind of action is to suggest you can catch something that isn't there in the first place.

You cannot love baseball for the same reasons you love football. If you try to love baseball for the action, you will have little to love. Baseball is about stories. Baseball is about heros and believing in something bigger than yourself. Devotion to baseball teams is arguably unrivaled in American sport today. The traditions of baseball is where fans find their love of this game. Players, coaches, writers, and fans all find their place in the larger story of what this sport means to the history of our culture in America.

Baseball provides a common thread through your life. When I tune a radio to a baseball game, I remember falling asleep to Jack Buck or Mike Shannon on hot summer nights when I was a kid. Trying so hard to stay awake just to picture the game happening right before me. Loving baseball today connects me to my past, in a way, baseball provides the setting for my story.

How many of my memories are tied to baseball? How often has a silly game brought me incredible joy or tears? Why do I care so much about a game, or a team? Something inside me craves the feeling of belonging to something...even if I'm disappointed, it's safe because they come back next year. Until then...

Friday, October 24, 2008

distractions

Sitting down to write today is hard, not because I don't have something to write, but because I have too many things to write. My heart has been on a roller coaster ride the last few weeks. I find myself discouraged by the chaotic world and the fear we all seem to breathe in like oxygen about crumbling markets and presidential hopefuls. But simultaneously, I am wrestling with what it means to be a child of God, a citizen of his kingdom, and oftentimes my spirits are bouyed. My idealism has taken hits over time, but God has faithfullly repaired the hits in the part of me I treasure most.

In the end, I know that being a part of what God is doing in the world is an ideal that I want, more than anything, to spend my life for. Not because I enjoy being on the right side of things, or take pleasure in trusting that it is the "winning" side. But rather, because I fully believe that God's kingdom is about restoring what seems so chaotic right now. It is about delving into the mess and restoring its beauty. It is about pushing back what is wrong and shining a light on what is good. God is working to bind up the broken, to befriend the lonely, to kneel down next to the broken down stepped ons of society and help them back up. When I read of Jesus and try my best to listen and understand him, I don't see someone bent on flashy argumentation or legislative evangelism, but someone who so embodied the compassion of his father that it seeped out of everything he did. When he said he came to declare the year of the Lord's favor, he announces that the kingdom is here and is for good things; hope, love, justice, redemption...that list goes on.

I have been speaking lately about having eyes to see God and to see his work happening before us, but how difficult it is to make that a priority. As I was reading this morning, I was struck by something I had not thought of before. I was struck that my participation in the kingdom is not just a matter of obedience, but it is the way I encounter what is good, true and beautiful. As I labor, I experience the goodness of God. So I need not fear the chaos...God give me eyes to see you clearly amidst my muddied life.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

a surprising hospitality

I guess that I really have not been all that surprised by my new life here in Brooklyn. If anything, it has been underwhelming. Underwhelming in the sense that I thought, or perhaps more accurately, most people thought I would think, that moving to the city would be the most overwhelming step I would take in life.

And yet it has not. Very quickly, this place has felt like home and the hustle/bustle of the city has not been intimidating. Instead, I have felt that the constant to and fro of the people in my new neighborhood has been life giving to me. I find myself invigorated by it.

The invigoration of the city seems to stem from the curiosity aroused by my new surroundings. If I sat on the same corner of the same street everyday for a month I am sure that, every day, I would learn significant lessons about my neighborhood and the way people choose to align their lives here. I am fascinated by the confluence of cultures; the irreligious and the devout, those that possess and those that desire, the young and the old, those that have called this place home all their life and those who may be freshly minted U.S. citizens...

There seems to be a sense of shared identity that people have simply by their geographical location that is uncommon in my experience. In that, despite the vast differences that are easy to observe in others, there are many common values and factors in play here as well. I had a conversation this summer where a particular man said to me something along the lines of "People all over think New Yorkers aren't friendly, but I have experienced the exact opposite. People here are the nicest, warmest and most open people I have met." Is this something more than hometown pride? After all, don't most people tout the distinctives of a town they come from? I did, after all, come from a town that is home to a certain insurance giant and a giant in the world of brilliant tasting steak burgers. We brag about that where I come from. Is this the same thing?

Perhaps not. The kindness of the people in my neighborhood is observable. In our world, just being able to see it is something. People open themselves to one another in ways I have not observed in the other contexts I have lived. Of course, there are stereotypical car horns and aged curmudgeons, but in the main people have an air of openness about them that seems to demonstrate what my friend had said.

Except for me. For some reason, people have walked by me a bit more coolly than they walk by my wife. My wife had a 15 minute conversation on the street with someone recently, instigated by that person. That has never happened to me, except in cases where I instigate or when I am with my son (but I am still convinced they are warm to him and not me).

But I have noticed an interesting thing. In the cases where I attempt to instigate some kind of warmth or openness with a passer-by; they respond very favorably, but it jolts them. So far, it is my experience that, in the main, people are surprised by the gesture coming from me. I have to ask a couple questions here. Are people surprised by the gesture of hospitality alone or are people surprised by the fact that the sender of said gesture is a young man? Whatever the reason, the relief and exuberance of the response to my "hello" helps me to confirm the suspicion that the cold passings I normally experience are not due to the people I walk by but perhaps due to the low expectations of what that person might receive in return.

I wonder what that means for what I spend myself doing everyday. Perhaps people really do crave real hospitable spaces where they can be known for who they are and where they can explore paths toward being more than they are so far, but they are afraid of the response they will get if they open themselves by reaching out with the first proverbial head nod or "hello." Perhaps the general lack of welcoming spaces in our world today insulates that longing in people so that it is hard to recognize.

"Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden. Take up my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." What does that mean for the people who follow Jesus?