Archive for the ‘Ecclesial Dreaming…’ Category

Displaced…

When I became displaced from the last church that I was connected to, there was one community that helped me stay afloat. It was not something that I had an opportunity to participate in as often as I liked but it was truly life giving and really important at that point in my life. There were so many great people that I met through that web of friendships. Many of those people shaped my life through that transition more than they can possibly know.

Gradually, I was pulled into the orbit of this life-giving community by some people who knew what I had been through, where I was at, and shared my hopes and dreams for the future. While they did not have to, the created a wide and generous place for me at their table.

Last month, I attended what may be the last event I will attend with this group of people and it was extremely difficult for me. It was like losing my last handhold to any meaningful ecclesiastical community. It was like being displaced. Again.

I have spent the last few weeks thinking about next steps and I am still not sure what they will be or where they will lead. I have been doing a lot of writing lately and have several books in the queue. I am hoping to get to that soon.

But first, I am hoping to find a day or two to spend in a Rocky Mountain trout stream.

Stuck in the undertow…

Without question, one of my favorite blogs has to be Hugo Schwyzer’s. It is one of the few that I still try to read every day and it never fails to challenge me in fresh new ways and stimulate my thinking. He had a recent post titled: All on the same team: why fighting for feminism and for men’s authentic liberation is not a zero-sum game. Like all of Schwyzer’s post I liked this one, but for some reason, this one has been holding in my memory for longer than usual as I process some of what he is saying.

While this particular post is a great piece on the practice of faithfully living real lives with real people specifically as it relates to gender relations, I found myself re-imagining the text in light of ecclesiology. It seems that there is a lot of “academic rhetoric” and “airy theorizing” when it comes to the topic of church. No one is more  guilty of the latter (I am too undereducated to fully participate in the former) than I am, including this present post! But Schwyzer is right. This all sounds hard. But I was particularly struck by Schwyzer’s response to a person asking what he could do to make a real difference. Among other things, Schwyzer states:

… But I’m convinced that the single most important thing that feminist men can do to dismantle the Old Boys’ Network is both far more simple and far more difficult: refuse to join it.

Particularly for young white men working for older white men, the pressure to join the the Network can be both immense and subtle. All of us, as we age and climb whatever ladder it is we are climbing, look to mentor younger folks. The desire for a protege is a common one, and the classic model in the Network is for an older man to look for a younger version of himself — which in journalism, or academia, or law, may mean a middle or upper-middle class white guy in his twenties. Even those male supervisors who are ideologically sympathetic to feminism may find themselves more likely to support and nurture a young man with whom they feel that emotional affinity, that sense of themselves at a younger age. Resisting the “unearned privilege of the protege” is a very difficult thing to do.

If you are a young man, low in status in a newsroom or a corporate office or an academic department, the senior men will almost always try and assess your suitability for the OBC early on in one way or another; what is often euphemistically called “collegiality” is just code for “willing to play along and not challenge us.”

In the end, the reason to avoid joining the Old Boys’ Club is about more than just maintaining one’s feminist credibility. It’s about understanding that now, in 21st century America, white male power is maintained less through overt legal structures than through hidden social constructions. White men can no longer exclude women and people of color from leadership positions by fiat alone; indeed, most white men probably don’t consciously want to. But what they do want to do, consciously or not, is maintain an environment in which straight white men — “the Old Boys” — continue to enjoy privilege and comfort. The greatest of those privileges is the sense of belonging. The hard fact is, in order to make most workplaces welcoming to women and non-whites, the Old Boys will have to change the way they do many things. Decades of feminism, decades of civil rights legislation, have done little to dismantle the entrenched resistance on the part of the OBC to surrendering that privilege.

In the end, if you’re a feminist man, the single most important thing you can do is make it clear, in your words and in your actions, that you not only are not looking for OBC membership, but will, politely but firmly, reject it when it is offered.

I include these lengthy excerpts because they explain a lot of my own feelings of being displaced from any meaningful sense of local, embodied, ecclesial community.  When I was attending a Bible college I had an in. When I was co-pastoring my first church plant for 3 years in Denver and could legitimately claim the title of “pastor” I was included. Even when I was filling a role as one of the members of the Executive Council of my last church I had something to hang a hat on. In conversations with other pastors I was considered to be “one of them” and everything was grand.

Now that I have been a displaced, ecclesial dreamer for five years things are a lot different. And as much as I wish I could say my lack of participation in the Good Old Pastor Club was fully a mature expression of my own volition, the fact remains that I no longer get to play in those circles. And things look a lot different out here. And the longer I am outside of the club the more I realize that in some ways, I don’t want to be in it any more. Sure, there is still a very strong pull to be a full participating member in a community of faith. But I am finding that in my context there are seemingly only two ways to accomplish that.

If I ever want to be in any kind of pastoral stewardship role again, I will have to pay some dues to the Good Old Pastors Club. And since I am under-educated, even if I pay those dues I cannot be a full fledged member. And the other option is to become a consumer (hopefully, the generous, financial giving kind) of the product. This role usually is not expected to say anything other than an occasional “amen” and be sitting somewhere that the attendance counter can see you during the Sunday morning service. It helps if you are friendly, have good hygiene, and will volunteer to do things from time to time, but even those are not required. But if you don’t like the mission or vision statement that has been God breathed to the leaders, you bite your tongue and vote with your feet. You are more than welcome to try the church down the street…

Too be honest, neither of those options are really all that appealing to me. But what do I k now? I am just a husband, father, friend, neighbor, government employee, and dreamer. And truth be told, I am really not doing all that great in any of those roles either. If only there was a place that I could go that would help form me to be a more faithful person in all these areas. A place where I could do more than shake the hand of the person next to me, sing a song or two, and stare at the back of someone’s head for half an hour while listening to a therapeutic, relevant sermon. As Hauerwas says, my spiritual life is in too bad of shape to tolerate bad preaching.

Dare to dream.

Still stuck at the crossroads…

I just finished Len Sweet and Frank Viola’s new book, Jesus Manifesto: Restoring the Supremacy and Sovereignty of Jesus Christ. I had never read Viola and I must confess that I fail to appreciate Sweet as much as some of my friends and acquaintances do. Nonetheless, I had high expectations for this book and I was really hoping that I would like it a lot. Sweet and Viola suggest that with this book they are attempting a third way to move out of the crossroads the Christian finds himself in. Instead of moving toward the left or the right, they suggest the third way is to move forward. And as much as I would love to be able to follow them into their vision of what forward is, I just could not find any traction in this book. Instead, I feel a lot like I did after watching Avatar. Just as it was with the film, I believe that I may be in the small minority of people who do not really like this book.

Perhaps it was more about my unrealistic expectations. I was hoping that this book would get into some of the things that I think are becoming increasingly important in our pluralistic and complex theological landscape. I was hoping that it would be helpful for Christians attempting to be faithful to their own traditions in the light of so much religious and cultural diversity. For me, it did not.

Perhaps it is because I am admittedly not a very good mystic. I am not wired to let my emotions drive everything. Sweet and Viola tell me over and over in this book that when (or if??) I can finally see Jesus as he really and truly is, I will fall so much in love with him that I cannot help but fall at His feet and give Him my undying devotion (p. xxv of the introduction). They write that all anyone has to do is grasp the truth of Paul’s epistle to the Colossians and we will finally see the true Christ.1 But they are willing to admit that this is not as easy as it sounds. For them, the worldview presented in Colossians would spin the head of Stephen Hawking and dumbfound Albert Einstein. So what is the third way forward? If we read Colossians and don’t come to the same conclusion of the authors is it because we are not smart enough to “get it” or too smart to submit to it? No. It is that the eyes of our hearts have not been opened (p.40). And that is a work that we cannot do ourselves, so we pray that God will do it for us.

If not, we will always be stuck replacing Christ with things. Things like, rules, regulations, doctrines, duties, causes, etc. They urge us to stop proclaiming things about Christ and simply proclaim Christ. And here is where the wheels fall of for me. How are we to adjudicate between these competing proclamations of Christ? We are simply not told. The closest we get to a specific example is this:

This culture loves causes, and it lionizes those who died fighting them. There is nothing wrong with causes. Archbishop Oscar Romero took up the cause of victims displaced in the Salvadoran civil war, and was assassinated during his homily as he was giving mass in 1980. Now “San Romero,” as he is often called, is one of only ten twentieth-century martyrs honored above the Great West Door of Westminster Abbey in London. On the other hand, Brother Roger Schutz, founder of Taize, was killed on August 16, 2005, not for a cause he was promoting, but because of who he was, a follower of Jesus.

Just what makes Schutz a follower of Jesus and not Romero is not clearly explained. And for Sweet and Viola, it cannot really be explained without falling into a ditch on either side if the one true path of yielding your self in such a way that Christ is the one living in you. To try to explain that simple truth one either falls into theological rationalism, on the one hand, or, theological ethics, on the other. But, for the authors:

According to Scripture, Jesus Christ (and not a doctrine about Him) is the truth. In addition, Jesus Christ (and not an ethic derived from His teaching) is the way. In other words, both God’s truth and God’s way are embodied in a living, breathing person–Christ.

Later they clarify that even further:

Jesus cannot be separated from His teachings. Aristotle said to his disciples, “Follow my teachings.” Socrates likewise said to his disciples, “Follow my teachings.” Buddha said to his disciples, “Follow my meditations.” Confucius said to his disciples, “Follow my sayings.” And Muhammad said to his disciples, “Follow my noble pillars.”

But Jesus said to his disciples, “Follow Me.”

In all the religions and philosophies of the world, a follower can follow the teachings of its founder without having a relationship with that founder. But not so with Jesus Christ. The teachings of Jesus cannot be separated from Jesus Himself. Christ is still alive, and He embodies his teachings. This is what separates Him from every other great teacher and moral philosopher in history.

While I accept the authors’ conclusion that Christ is indeed living, I do not follow their line of argument here. While Christians do have the ability to share in the divine life, in this moment of history we see only in part, and know only in part. (And here I will reveal in all its glory the claim I made earlier that I am not a good mystic…)I do not believe that I can see Jesus “face-to-face.” I cannot literally fall at his feet and put my finger in the scars from the cross. In this moment of history I relate to him through the mysterious body of his church as it lives out its witness. And this brings me, whether I like it or not, into a historically complex, culturally rich, theologically multifaceted, doctrinally diverse, and pluriform embodiment of practices that offer a multi-vocal proclamation and witness of Him.

All of this leaves me unable to follow Sweet and Viola entirely. There are some good things in this book, and I am sure a larger audience that will enjoy and benefit from it.

**Disclosure of Material Connection: I’d like to thank Thomas Nelson Publishers for providing me this Book free as part of their [...] book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”


  1. which begs the question, why write 178 pages and not just reprint the book of Colossians? [back]

Closing in on Easter…

This quote comes from my favorite missiologist, Vincent Donovan, and can be found in his book, The Church in the Midst of Creation:

Everywhere I have gone I have heard the same question in one form or another: “We see quite plainly the church as it is, but what should it be like?” If you had it in your power to see that church as it ought to be, how would it appear? Not the church in the distant future of science fiction but in the foreseeable, possible future, as we move toward the end of the twentieth century and into the third millennium of Christianity.

It will be a church come of age, under the direction and control of the unpredictable Spirit. It will be a risen church born anew out of the death of the one we now know. The pilgrimage along the road to that church will not be a serene and painless journey. Before we reach the end of that road to a church refounded for our age, there will lie a cross, a crucifixion, not for others but for us.

More thoughts for Holy Week…

The thought below was provided to my by my great friend, Scott. Thanks, Scott.

This is a great quote by an Anabaptist theologian named C. Norman Kraus.  The book is called Jesus Christ our Lord:  Christology from a Disciple’s Perspective:

The cross involved no equivalent compensation or payment of penalty demanded by God’s just anger.  God is justified in forgiving us on the basis of his own holy love and not on the basis of an equivalent penal satisfaction which has been paid to him through the death of Jesus.  The Cross itself as an act of solidarity with us is the divine ethical justification for forgiveness, and the resurrection of Jesus demonstrates the effectiveness of God’s love in Christ to forgive and cleanse us from sin.”

Love it!

Why The Face???

Today was an interesting day. I met a friend for lunch. He is a displaced, ecclesial dreamer, too. He has a community that he is connected with but the connection is more with people in the community than it is the institutional structure. We had a great chat about those kinds of things. It made me miss church in ways that hurt.

Lucky for me, when I got home I found a cure. I checked my mail and found this flier invitation from a new, local church plant:

Easter Mailer

The mailer let me know that I was invited to “come as I am” and had quotes from people who are part of the church to let me know what the “vibe” was like:

“no judgments”

“positive message”

“music rocked”

I have no doubt that this mailer may appeal to some people and may even inspire some people to visit this church. I am not one of them.

It seems to me that too many of the churches in my neck of the woods are caught in a highly competitive game of ecclesiastical limbo where they are all trying to see how low they can go (and still call themselves a church) in order to attract the most amount of people to their place to consume the show on Sunday. They try so hard to be relevant to an nonreligious target audience (even though 95% of their members are not nonreligious) that they become irrelevant to The Way of Jesus Christ.  And at the moment they reach their mark, I wonder why would anyone want to go there at all? I am quite certain I could find a more efficient way to consume rocking music, positive messages, and no judgments then staring at the back of someone’s head for an hour.

To be honest, I cannot figure out what any of the stuff on the flier had to do with the Resurrection. Maybe I am missing something. I am sure that when this church launches its new series on “the office” it will be made more clear. Too bad I won’t be around to hear it.

Transformation…

I know that I am several weeks late but I just got around to watching my favorite Advent film and while I was watching it I realized something.

At some point over the past 2-4 years I have evolved. I used to think of myself as pastor Kevorkian because it seems that any faith community I find myself involved with died. I figured that there could be a calling in that — going to evangelical churches that don’t realize they are dying and helping them make the transition with dignity and grace.

But after watching the film tonight I feel that I at this stage of my ecclesial journey I am much more like Viktor Navorski. Maybe I need to come to terms with the reality that I am unacceptable.

When dreamers changed the world…

Today I went with the family to the Douglas County Martin Luther King Jr. unity walk. It was a short, 2 mile walk with a bunch of other people to celebrate and remember the life of MLK. At the end of the walk there was a short presentation where an actor performed two of Kings most famous speeches.

There were two things that hit me while I listened to these performances. First, I could not help but imagine the power these words must have carried the first time they were delivered in 1963 and 1968. It is hard for me to picture how different the world was then. Even though I was born in 1968, I did not grow up in the world King and his companions did. I grew up in a world that was changed by them. Second, I could not help but think that some 40 years later the best we can do is re-enact these speeches from a different time.

Don’t get me wrong. I think these were amazing speeches. But I cannot help but wonder, where are these voices today? I know they are there and numerous. But we live in a time where powerful oratory ability does not seem to make much of a difference. Maybe in our multimedia culture our attention spans have become too short to listen–really listen–to an hour long speech. Especially, the speech of a dissident. Today it is easier to consume and regurgitate sound bites and slogans. But to put your life on the line in the pursuit of a dream is costly. I fear that I don’t have the ability to do it. And that is not a pleasant thing to think about.

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”
Martin Luther King Jr. — 1963

Starting on the right foot…

2009 was not a good year for me. It was by far the most frustrating year for my health that I have ever had. I ended the year with the feeling that I was not firing on any cylinder.

I am still wrestling with some health issues and not sure just yet how I want to respond to that. I am not comfortable with any of the current options that I can see before me and I am hoping that something different will reveal itself.

But I do know that this year I want to become more intentional about finding a way to catch up the the ecclesial wagon I fell off of so long ago. For me, it seems that one thing that was missing for me was interacting with books. In a good year I will average around one book per week. I doubt I got more than one a month last year.

I have been setting up a reading queue of books I want to digest in the days ahead, but I wanted to start with something that would bring a measure of redemption to some of the areas in my life that feel broken. There are a handful of authors that always reach deep into my soul and speak to me in ways that not many others can. Probably the one who rises to the top of the list for me is Anne Lamott. In the fist few sentences of the prelude of Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith, I was already hooked. Lamott may be the most honest writer I have ever read and she has the ability to speak into the neediest places in my soul.

If you have never read an Anne Lamott book, you are missing out on a great gift. Stop what ever you are doing and go to the nearest library, or bookstore, and pick up any of her books. Make your favorite beverage, grab your blanket, start up a fire and dive in.

Mvule Tree Project

Mvule Tree Project

All I wanted this past Christmas was to sponsor a Mvule tree, or maybe a few. It was a crazy holiday season full of all the expected, and some unexpected expenses. For a while I did not think I was going to get my tree and I was just a bit grumpy about that.

Our family exchanged gifts on Christmas eve morning because they were going to spend the holiday weekend with Janell’s family in Grand Lake, Colorado and I was going to be home doing some work and taking care of the dogs. When I opened my gift it was a small box with a note in it and the money to sponsor a tree. I hope to add a few more over the course of the year.

Today, my welcome packet came in the mail. My daughter colored my Mvule Tree Project ornament for me and prepared it for me to hang on my rear view mirror. I am looking forward to seeing that logo every day on my drive to work to remind me just how good I have it. And I am already looking forward to adding some more trees.

If you are interested to see what this project is all about, make sure you visit www.mvuleproject.org