New blog address

I'll be posting at http://www.michellevanloon.com from now on. Come visit!

Review: With

"Christianity isn't a religion. It's a relationship."

If you've spent any time at all in the evangelical world, you've probably heard some version of those words. In his book With: Reimagining the way you relate to God (Nelson, 2011) Pastor and author Skye Jethani explains that most of us settle for an erzatz version of this relationship:

• Life FROM God: People in this category are focused on what God will do for them, rather than being interested in God himself. Word-of-faith believers and those who search for God's blessing on their success both capture the essence of this posture.
• Life OVER God: "Proven formulas and controllable outcomes" define this category, best typlifed by people like the jaded agnostic and the pastor who relies on formulas and organizational principles to build a church. 
• Life FOR God: Those in this camp are known for their drive to do great things in God's service and being a world-changer. "Full time Christian service" is the penultimate expression of faith. 
• Life UNDER God: Our role is to learn what God commands, and toil with great intensity to remain within those boundaries. Legalists personify this category. 

Jethani noted that he has spent time living in each one of these categories. (Me too.) But he makes a compelling case for learning to live life WITH God - which, he says, is the only sort of relationship God has ever intended to have with us:

The Life With God posture is predicated on the view that relationship is at the core of the cosmos: God the Father with God the Son with God the Holy Spirit. And so we should not be surprised to discover that when God desired to restore his broken relationship with people, he sent his Son to dwell with us. His plan to restore his creation was not to send a list of rules and rituals to follow (Life Under God), nor was it the implementation of useful principles (Life Over God). He did not send a genie to grant us our desires (Life For God.), nor did he give us a task to accomplish (Life For God). Instead, God himself came to be with us - to walk with us once again as he had done in Eden in the beginning. 

It is just that simple. Which is why, in our broken state, we tend to bollux it, distancing ourselves from Him as we settle for a life lived by the wrong preposition. Jethani's writing is winsome and accessible, and his message is gospel - good news - in the truest sense of the word. The first half of the book explains how our errant categories impede and distort relationship with God. The second half offers a wonderful exploration of what it means live with God - to live into the faith, hope and love that is his character and our birthright as his beloved. A couple of appendices (a brief introduction to some ancient prayer practices in order to cultivate a "with-life" and a thoughtful set of discussion questions) round out the book's 207 pages. 

One of the best-loved passages in Eugene Peterson's The Message paraphrase captures the essence of the message of With. Jesus is speaking to a crowd of people who'd lived under, for, from and over God when he offers this invitation: "Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (Matthew 11:28-30 MSG) 

I am prone to slide to one of the unhealthy postures (from, over, for, under) in my relationship with God. It's like a bad case of gravity, pulling me downward. With is a wise, wonderful reminder that only way to experience the gravity-defying unforced rhythms of grace is by living in the reality that God is with me, and I with him. Highly recommended. 

I received a review copy of this book from the publisher.    



 

Women can. Should they?

I am currently reading Carolyn Custis James' thoughtful call to action entitled Half The Church: Recapturing God's Global Vision For Women, which is an invitation for kingdom women to respond with kingdom intelligence, passion and action to the injustice in our world.  

And then yesterday, I read this this fairly detailed description of men's and women's roles by a Pastor Mark Chanski on the Gospel Coalition blog. Honestly, I am not trying to rant about the GC crew. I mentioned them in a blog post last week, so I didn't imagine I'd be talking about them again this week. But the dissonance between the kinds of women's roles described by Custis James and Chanski's prescriptive stance on masculine and feminine roles left me wondering anew how two people who would both self-identify as evangelical Christians who take their faith seriously could end up in such different places?

Someone explained to me years ago about the relationship between dogma, doctrine and opinion using the diagram above. The essence of dogma, those non-negotiable essentials of the Christian faith, can be captured in a creed like this one. Dogma is the small tip of the triangle in the diagram above. Get your dogma wrong and you end up inventing a cult. 

Doctrine, the next section of the triangle, encompasses issues that distinguish the practice of a particular religious tradition. Get your doctrine wrong and you could end up being booted out of your church.

Opinion, the biggest section of the triangle, is everything else. That includes everything from worship music to leadership structures to the color of carpet in the church narthex. Depending on the crowd you run with, getting your opinion wrong may get you kicked out of your church and being told you’re going to hell, too.

That little diagram has been a big help to me as I’ve watched how well-intentioned Christians have defined what beliefs belong in which part of the triangle. It is amazing how many opinions end up becoming doctrine (or worse, dogma) for people. If you shove too much opinion into the doctrine or dogma part of the triangle, then it’s not really a triangle any more, is it? 

Though I haven't finished Custis James' book, the one thing I've noticed is that there is a sense of empowering "can", as in, "Women can get involved in putting a stop to sex slavery". Her book appears to be about motivating her female readers to step out in faith in order to make a difference for others, no matter what life stage they inhabit. Her dogma enables her to analyze Biblical text in order to build her case, but the tone of her book most definitely falls into the category of passionately expressed opinion. 

On the other hand, Pastor Chanski's post is full of shoulds and shouldn'ts. Men should "...step up to the plate in Sunday School classes and prayer meetings in such a manner that their verbal contributions lead the way, and not leave a void, provoking the women to take over." Women should "...extend hospitality in its countless forms. A Christlike, foot-washing, servant-hearted woman is a mighty kingdom weapon...Women are the church’s infantry." I understand that the Gospel Coalition folks believe that their take on women's roles is a non-negotiable that is a marker of a person's understanding about Scripture's inerrancy. 

"Should" is the language of dogma. "Can" is the language of opinion. 

And promise. And possibility.

My question for you: Should 'should' be a part of these kinds of discussions about men's and women's roles?

What's a nice egalitarian woman like you doing...?

What's a nice egalitarian woman like you doing in a complementarian church?

When we started attending this church a year and a half ago, a friend said to me, "You know they're Gospel Coalition people, right?"

Yes, I did know. In fact, during our decision/discernment process about whether this church would be a good fit for us, we'd invited both pastors over to our home for some frank conversation about how their neo-Reformed theology worked itself out in the congregation. The conversation touched on topics including their view of Israel (an urgent question for us, since Reformed theology is typically supersecessionist in its interpretation of Scripture's story, a position my husband and I find untenable and anti-Semitic) as well as the role of women in the congregation.

The funny thing about at least one of those conversations is that neither my husband nor I brought up the subject of women's roles. The pastor did, perhaps because he knew that I am a writer and do some speaking.

He didn't know that my husband is probably more of an egalitarian than I am. Bill had sifted through the hysteria and hyperbole surrounding these issues early in his seminary days. He'd enrolled in seminary in his forties after a couple of decades of experience in the church. As a result, he was not in the market for a ticket to ride on whatever popular "issue of the week" theological bandwagon that happened to be rolling by. At Trinity, that bandwagon was a faddish devotion to Calvin-flavored fundamentalism. Bill noted that when he was an undergrad at Trinity in the 1970's, most of the faculty were dedicated Arminians - in other words, the bandwagon was heading in the opposite direction back then. 

Because I began my church life in a very conservative "non"denomination, I accepted this group's take on women's roles without question - though I never donned a head covering for worship like the really spiritual women did. Though we moved on from that church shortly after we married, I didn't really do much serious reflection on the topic of women in ministry for several years. I wrote and spoke, gradually finding my voice and embracing the ministry and gifts God gave me. When I read Dr. Sarah Sumner's Men and Women in the Church: Building Consensus on Christian Leadership a few years ago (while working at Trinity's bookstore!), I felt that she'd put words to who God had called me to be. The book launched some new conversations in my life, including a few with my husband, who had often wondered what took me so long to believe about myself what he had long believed about me - and so many other God-gifted women. Everyone's gifts are needed in order to so the church can both be and become the Bride of Christ.

It is a wonderful blessing in the truest sense of the word to have someone else affirm your ministry. Bill's ongoing blessing of my writing and speaking ministry has had an unexpected side effect: it has stripped the gears from my propensity to agitate against institutional injustice when it comes to this issue. Perhaps because I am free to step behind a pulpit on a Sunday morning or in a seminar as a guest speaker if I am asked (just as Bill, a gifted teacher in his own right, is), I don't feel any urge to fight this particular church on these issues. Or, more likely, maybe I'm just battle-weary at this point in my life.

I appreciate the preaching at this church, which thus far has been mercifully free from agendas and politics, and value the humility and service orientation I see among both men and women there. The women I've met there are smart and curious. I do feel a bit sad the church is limiting their voices in areas that could benefit this local body. But male and female members alike have chosen to affirm the complementarian position in order to structure their life together, and I can respect their choice to do so.

They've been supportive of our Jewishness, our connection to Caspari and love for Israel as well as the other ministries (Bill is a Mundelein police chaplain, I handle communications for Christ Together) of which we're a part. I am so grateful for their prayers and kindness in that way. We always have to suck it up in some area or other when we become a part of a local body, right?

So, I'm curious - what do you think? Is the issue of women in ministry a deal-breaker for you when it comes to choosing a local congregation?

Review: The Seraph Seal

I'm not much of a fiction reader, but when I saw Leonard Sweet's name on the cover of this book, I decided to give it a spin*. Co-written with Lori Wagner, The Seraph Seal (Thomas Nelson, 2011) is a genre-blurring book the authors have dubbed "engaged fiction". The meat of the book is an apocalyptic journey through the end of days that borrows in structure from barn-burners like the DaVinci code, book-ended with Sweet's trademark provocative, prophetic decoding of the often-disparate clues embedded all around us. "(I pay) attention to the signs of the times and (follow) the traces and trails that lead to places of intersection, especially where our story meets God's story," he explains. To that end, Wagner's fiction grabs signposts from all sorts of places: ancient Christian traditions and writings, Kaballah, Mayan prophecies, global warming theories, political realignments, social trends, advances in the tech world and more.

The book's 560 pages (!) follow one Peter Binder, University of Virginia history professor, as he pieces together the clues in a race against time to bring together the chosen "horsemen of the apocalypse" mentioned in Revelation before an anti-Christ figure (who happens to be the President of USAmerica) can arrive in Israel's Upper Galilee with his own anti-horsemen at 9:00 PM on December 21, 2048. There are multiple characters and plotlines, skipping all over the globe. Wagner is a capable writer, pulling Sweet's understanding of semiotics into a readable page-turner of a book. Though the first 20% of this lengthy volume was slow going for me, though eventually the mysteries and connections hooked me into the story.

The good news about this story is that it is not another Left Behind (dispensational) vision of the end times, which is not an eschatological system I embrace. Instead, Sweet and Wagner offer a vision of the last days that has many elements that feel far more faithful to Scripture than does Jenkins and LaHaye's - with a giant "but" tacked onto the end of the sentence: While The Seraph Seal leads the reader to a new heaven and a new earth at the end of the book, it is these human horsemen and the sacrificial death of their very human companion that brings us there. I understood the symbolism, but I experienced a disconnect between that symbolism and the real, recognizable world these characters inhabited so fully throughout the book. My own "through a glass darkly" reading of Revelation has Jesus at the center of these events in a more literal manner, one that matches the literal destruction of the world imagined by Sweet and Wagner. 

One of Sweet's appendices at the end of the book describes and categorizes some of the signs of the times to which the book refers (ranging from Abaddon to Zero Point Energy). This reading adds value and understanding to the story told by Wagner, and left me with some haunting food for thought as I try to do what Christ has asked each one of us to do: Pay attention to the signs of the times. The Seraph Seal, a work of fiction, offers readers a reminder that God has equipped them to do just that, if only they'll see and hear.

*I received a review copy of this book from the publisher.

The taste of daily bread

"Our driver is running a few minutes late. Is that O.K.?" The voice on the other end of the phone waited for my answer.

What was I supposed to say? I'd been sitting in an office with nothing much to do except wait for the guy from the office equipment company to come pick up his copier. "Sure. I'll be here."

It is the mundane nature of days like this that threatens to numb us from savoring the activity of God in our lives. 

I diddled with some paperwork, wrote a few emails, and watched the minutes tick by like migrating geese. At last, there was a knock on the door. "Sorry about the delay." A man in his early forties wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Hot one out there, eh?" 

We exchanged weather-related pleasantries and I shot a glance at the clock. I could still make it out of here before rush hour starts. We talked through the logistics of how he'd get the aging copier out of the office building and into his truck, and discovered we had an acquaintance in common. He busied himself unplugging cables and readying the machine for transport, then stopped and looked at me. 

"So what do you do?" 

It kind of a funny question to be asked while I was standing in an office, though he did know that I did the bulk of my work for the organization from home.

"My primary job is writing," I told him, and explained that I have a variety of different gigs going these days, most writing-related, including the one that brought me to the office that day. 

His curiosity was piqued. "What do you write?"

When I tell people I've written two books about the parables of Christ, the conversation usually goes in one of two directions. Either they smile at me like I am a deluded fool and change the subject, or they begin to tell me a little about their own faith story.

Our ensuing conversation was in the latter camp, but with a confessional twist. For a moment, he looked like he was about to break down, then the words poured out of him like a river. "This economy has been brutal on my business. I'm the owner, but can't afford to pay a delivery driver right now. I am a person of faith and love to share it, but the first and the fifteenth of each month when I have to pay bills, I take my eyes off of Jesus. I'm scared." He paused, an attempt to dam the river. His face reddened a bit. "I don't know why I'm telling you this..."

I nodded. Maybe he thought that because I wrote a book, I'd have a solution for his fear. Honestly, I'm a little scared these days, too, in several different areas of my life. I told him briefly about my own struggles, and referenced the words we pray but sometimes struggle to believe when fear's shadow threatens to block out the truth about who God is. As we talked, the copier and the truck and the clock metering out the moments of our respective workdays faded into the background as if it was bad scenery from a high school play, and the kind of fellowship found only in the kindgom of God filled the space between two struggling strangers. A tiny fragment of eternity had invaded our now.

Our conversation came to a resting place, and the clock again came into sharp focus. "I better get going," he said, glancing at it. "Before I do, I was wondering if you'd think it was weird if we prayed together?" 

Weird? It was the only logical place we could go. As we said our Amens, each of us let out an involuntary sigh, lightened from the release of lifted weight from weary shoulders. 

"Thanks," he said. "By the way, my name is John."

"Nice to meet you, John. I'm Michelle." After he left, I stood in the office, chastised by the echoes of my grumbling just a few minutes earlier about the inconvenience of the delay to my precious schedule. I didn't deserve the grace that filled that conversation, and remembered again that these sorts of encounters are exactly what daily bread tastes like. 

At The Table: A Reading For Two Voices

Once upon a time, I used to write a lot of readings for use during church services. Some of the pieces were meant to tell a story in a unique way, other readings were simply a creative division of a Biblical text that would allow a congregation to listen to familiar words with fresh ears because 2-5 voices proclaimed them.

This summer at our church, there was a call for the congregation to bring our "Living Psalms" to one another. Below, you'll find my psalm, the first script I've written in a quite a while. If you know of a congregation interested in using this piece (about 1:30 in length), you're welcome to share it with them with my blessing!

At The Table

This psalm, to be read by two people (Voice 1, a male reader and Voice 2, and female voice), is inspired by the parable of the banquet found in Luke 14:15-24. This piece would be suitable as an intro. to communion.

Voice 1: The world says I am not invited to its party.

Voice 2: There is no place card for me at its table.

Voice 1: The world says my name is Poor.

Voice 2: Crippled.

Voice 1: Blind.

Voice 2: Lame.

Voice 1: The world calls me Loser.

Voice 2: Awkward.

Voice 1: Burden.

Voice 2: Ugly.

Voice 1: Failure.

Voice 2: Disappointment.

Voice 1: Sinner.

Voice 2: The world’s labels have branded me.

Voice 1: The identity they gave me was as comfortable as an old pair of sweats…

Voice 2: And as ill-fitting as a prom dress three sizes too small.

Voice 1: Sometimes, when I dream at night I imagine a different name for myself.

Voice 2: Those dreams are the true desire of my heart, hopes I don’t dare to voice when the world has already pronounced its verdict over my life.

Voice 1: Heavenly Father, you authored my desire.

Voice 2: You gave me those dreams.

Voice 1: Yet in the cold florescent glare of the world’s light, those dreams seem nothing more than a hazy fantasy of my own invention.

Voice 2: When I heard about invitations going out to the best party of them all, I shrugged it off.

Voice 1: I wouldn’t be invited to an event like that.

Voice 2: Why would I be?

Voice 1: Never had been invited before.

Voice 2: Never dared to dream I would be today.

Voice 1: And then, there was a knock on my door.

Voice 2: And then, a kind messenger handed me an invitation.

Voice 1: My name engraved on the envelope.

Voice 2: It was the name I’d only dreamed of hearing from you, Lord.

Voice 1: Friend.

Voice 2: Others just like me…

Voice 1: Others who’d been wounded with labels like the one I wore…

Voice 2: …received invitations that day, too.

Voice 1: Their invitations had names like ‘son’.

Voice 2: ‘Daughter’.

Voice 1: ‘Holy’.

Voice 2: ‘Beloved’.

Voice 1: Father, these were the names you gave to us before we were even born.

Voice 2: While each one of us was still in our mother’s womb.

Voice 1: You, Lord, prepare a place at your table for us.

Voice 2: You, Lord, invite us to come to your table.

Voice 1: To revel in your presence.

Voice 2: To feast on your goodness.

Voice 1: To savor your mercy.

Voice 2: To be transformed by your grace.

Voice 1: And so, we respond to your invitation here in this place.

Voice 2: Grateful.

Voice 1: Humbled.

Voice 2: In awe of all you are and all you’ve done for us.

Voice 1: We say yes to your invitation with our new name on it.

Voice 2: We come to your table.

Voice 1: And as we do, we are fed…

Voice 2: …restored

Voice 1: …and renamed.

Trying to look on the sunny side

"My husband reads your blog, and he commented that you seem to have a lot of complaints about the Church," a friend told me recently.

A number of responses came to mind, mostly of the "Well, yeah" and "No duh" variety.

There are lot of voices offering criticism of the church around the blogosphere. A sizable percentage of these critics sing the laments that jilted lovers do. Their minor key songs are the kinds of songs sung by those who gave time and money and the best parts of themselves to a congregation, only to be neglected, used or abused in return. I would definitely put myself in this category. When I tell sad stories or ask questions about church, I am doing so because I want to use my voice to encourage others who've been hurt by the people who are meant to be your family in the best, healthiest sense of the word. I use my voice because there is nothing more affirming and empowering than discovering that you're not the only one.

That said, every once in a while it's good to tell a different kind of story about a church leader. I am still a part of the body of Christ, which means that either I'm completely nuts for sticking around after some of the horrors I've experienced in the Church - or I have learned that those people are not the sum and total of who the Bride is meant to be.

So with that, a good leader story. I first wrote about it in more detail here, but it is a story worth repeating. It is a beautiful picture of how a leader's response to a messy person can bring incredible healing. It remains one of the most transcendent moments I've ever had in a church.

I'd been, as they say, thrown under the bus several years earlier by a leader with a secret to protect. (The secret was that he was a porn addict and was thisclose to having an affair.) It was devastating at the time, but by this point, I figured I'd worked through the worst of it and I was now all right. Really. Fine, thanks.

I was at an organizational meeting in a new church in a new state years later when I saw a face, an image that transported me back in time to the point of impact. A PTSD microburst. I freaked out inside, but did my darndest to maintain a calm, rational exterior.

I nearly pulled it off, except for the fact that I'd begun shaking uncontrollably. I prayed that no one noticed, and tried to figure out how to excuse myself from this room of near-strangers so I could go to my car and cry. 

A leader at the church, Mike, noticed. He gently asked me if I was OK. I tried offering a brief explanation that would have allowed me to preserve a scrap of dignity, but I'm not sure I made any sense. My chattering teeth didn't help the effect.

Mike quietly directed the others in the room to gather around me, lay their hands on my shaking body, and pray. He'd been a grade school teacher for years, and he knew just what to do when someone got hurt at recess.

None of them knew what they were praying about for me. But the Holy Spirit knew, and he moved them to pray prayers of freedom and release that hit their mark. They could have branded me an emotionally-disturbed woman, and they'd have been right.

Instead, fueled by compassion and directed by Mike's shepherd leadership, they didn't label me with any other label - except that of a friend in need of prayer.

This is how a leader who is following Christ is supposed to respond to someone else's mess. In fact, this is how each one of us who has been filled with the Holy Spirit is invited to respond. Think Good Samaritan.

Mike did that night. And I am grateful. 

 

The electric fence

"I'm wondering if you and your husband have run into issues of sexual sin among any of the leaders in your congregation." My query paused the conversation while my friend reviewed her experiences in the last year or so since her husband had become an elder in a mid-sized, non-denominational congregation.

The fact that she had to pause and think about it answered my question.

"Well, there's a couple dealing with infidelity on the part of one of the spouses," she said at last.

"Are they in leadership roles?" I asked.

"Oh no," she said, a note of shock in her voice. "No problems at all like that. Why do you ask?"

I'd been reflecting on the devastation that had been wrought by the wandering desires of church leaders I've known over the years. Leaders' porn addictions, adulteries, emotional adulteries, more porn addictions, more adulteries and a few cases of fornication for good measure have pock-marked the narrow road I've walked during the last three decades.    

If a leader is not inclined to confess, then without a moment of hesitation, he or she will destroy anyone who gets too close to their secret. The love the ministry leader may profess for their congregation ends at the electrified fence they've built around their secret. The leader usually has no problem shoving the potential exposer into the fence and watching the person fry. "See? There's the problem in our congregation," the leader will say as he or she points to the now crispy-fried reputation of a brother or sister. And in my experience, they'll resort to this tactic again and again and again until they either get caught or collapse under the weight of their double life. 

Someone once told me I seemed to have trust issues with church leaders. (Ironically, I later discovered that this person was heavily involved in a cover-up of a church leader's emotional affair. But I digress.) When I recently shared some of our war stories with a new friend, I realized that either (a) my husband and I have extraordinarily terrible discernment when it comes to choosing churches or (b) the problems are here, there and everywhere, and when we've prayed "God, please use me", he will take us at our word and escort us right toward an electrified fence. 

The temptation to say, "Forget you" to the Church has been great at times - and there have been periods when simply walking in the door of a service and taking a seat in the back row has been all that I can do. Even then, when I was in non-involvement mode at a church, I once had a woman in leadership decide to befriend me because I seemed safe (because I was non-involved) and confess to me the affairs she and her husband had both had in recent years. Oy. 

I am certainly more guarded these days, but I believe that might be called "Wisdom". I also am learning to trust God, even when his people fail. I fail, and God trusts me to continue to carry his Spirit in spite of my own failures - and because of his bottomless love and mercy.

I also believe that the people I learn from are often not the ones wielding power in a church professing their desire to 'equip me for ministry', but the ones who probably aren't on the church org chart who have the time and openness to sit at a table across from me and share their lives. Our society provides us all with regular tutorials about the relationship of power to sexual appetite - Arnold Schwartzenegger and Anthony Weiner, most recently. Truth 101 here: Power in any sphere can be simultaneously a narcotic and an aphrodisiac, and yes, that combo, applied to the unhealed wounds of a church leader can out a dormant hidden self that will take down others to preserve its secrets. 

The note of shock in my friend's voice sounded a lot like "That could never happen here". That tone of pride was more alarming to me than her answer. Paul, writing to a congregation where sexual sin was center stage, coached them with these words of warning: "So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!" (1 Cor. 10:12) 

My prayer for my friend is that she and her husband will indeed be careful - especially if they find themselves being escorted toward an electric fence. 

Have you ever been in a church impacted by the sexual sin of a leader? How did it affect you? 

Country music words quiz

I've avoided the genre like smallpox, but in recent years, a few crossover hits have captured my imagination. And that Mad Magazine coverboy, also known as American Idol winner Scotty McCreery, got me to thinkin' 'bout tryin' the Country Music for the first time. (!) I challenged myself to give country a chance for a month.

I'm almost done with my 30-day challenge period wherein I listen to pop-hit country US99 in the car when I drive. There are a few songs that I simply can not stomach as a newbie country music listener (like this one), but for the most part, I think I might be getting hooked, at least a little bit. I like the storytelling aspect of the music, and there are bonus points because I don't feel quite as slimy as I do when listening to certain autotuned pop stars who shall remain naLAmeDYleGAssGA.

I'm a word girl, so I have collected a vocabulary list from the songs I've heard in heavy rotation on the radio station. Country music fans, can you name the current song and artist where each of these words are found? 

1. Porch

2. Critter

3. Piece o' wire

4. Mama

5. Daddy

6. Beer

7. Whiskey

8. Tractor

9. Coon dog

10. Conway Twitty

*I know, I know. Some of these words are in thousands of country songs. Seriously. Beer? Whiskey?Just do your best with what's on the current charts

**And yes, some of these words come from the same song. 

***Yes, yes, I do find myself wondering what a nice Jewish suburban Chicago girl like me is doing listening to a song with the words "Coon dog" in it. Thanks for asking.

Spiritual narcissism

Yesterday while I was playing hooky, I headed to WI for a quick visit with Meg, my long-time prayer partner. We ended our day in the empty sanctuary of her Pewaukee church. It is a small modern space, but was sited onto the land with great respect to the old trees and plantings already residing on the land. Windows behind the altar bring breathtaking views of creation into the building all four seasons of the year. 

As Meg and I prayed, I could almost hear a sermon preached to me by the plants and trees in full bloom. Their early summer majesty whispered to me that they are helpless to grow themselves; sun, wind, soil, rain and time are given them by the One who hard-wired the DNA within each one's seed. Dr. Gerald May noted, "The gentlest form of spiritual narcissism is the idea that one can accomplish one's own spiritual growth."

Jesus told a story about the nature and purpose of spiritual growth. In my book Uprooted: Growing A Parable Life From The Inside Out, I spent a little time imagining Jesus' revolutionary idea that God alone causes growth to happen in our lives. Enjoy!

He also said, "This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come."    -Mark 4:26-29

    Levi groaned. The first rays of the sun slanted through the open doorway, and he rolled over, draping his arm across his eyes. Ah, for just a few more minutes of sleep.
    Miriam’s side of the bed was already cold. She was a good woman, that one, up before the dawn to begin preparing breakfast for the family.
    He let his arm drop, and pushed himself up to a sitting position. As his feet hit the floor, he uttered the day’s first prayer:  I give thanks before you, King, living and eternal, for you have returned within me my soul with compassion, abundant is Your faithfulness. Amen.
    He’d built his life using the pattern given him by his father, may he rest in peace, and from his grandfather before him. Levi’s family was comprised of an unbroken chain of rabbis, honorable men who’d taught others how to live every jot and tittle of the Torah.
    He lifted the tefillin, those small boxes containing portions of God’s Word, one for his head and one for his hand, and began wrapping the leather strapping to himself in the prescribed manner. Left hand first, Levi prayed: Blessed are you, Lord, our God, King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and has commanded us to put on tefillin. Amen. Up the arm, 7 times around, Levi pulled the straps snugly: Blessed is the Name of His glorious kingdom for ever and ever. Amen. He affixed the other precious little box to his head, and continued, Blessed are you, Lord, our God, King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and has commanded us regarding the commandment of tefillin. Amen.
    He paused for a respectful moment, then repeated the statement that completed this part of the ritual. He’d said it by rote every day of his life since the day he became a man: I will betroth you to Me forever, and I will betroth you to Me with righteousness, justice, kindness, and mercy. I will betroth you to Me with faithfulness, and you shall know Me, God.
    He dropped his prayer shawl over his head like a small tent and raised his hands: Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us regarding the commandment of fringes. Amen. Those carefully knotted fringes were combination amulet and billboard, a reminder of God’s 613 rules at the foundation of Levi’s life.
    Levi completed his morning prayers, removed his tefillin, and went to join his wife and children for breakfast. He stopped to wash his hands: Blessed are You O Lord our God, King of the universe, Who has made us holy through His commandments, and has commanded us concerning washing hands. Amen. He then prayed a blessing on the warm flatbread (“Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Ruler of the Universe, who brings forth bread from the earth. Amen.”) and figs (“Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of the fruit of the tree. Amen.”)
.     Each moment of Levi’s day was shaped as much by those rules as by the centuries of commentary about the specifics about how to best obey those rules. His life was a chain of days; the links forged of iron obedience.
    The latest debate among the men at his synagogue centered on how best to thank the Creator for two pieces of fruit when one piece was cut into pieces and the other was served whole. Give thanks for the whole piece, of course, Levi contended. But others felt that thanking God for the cut pieces was in order since those were the ones that were going to be eaten first. Some complained that they were splitting hairs with an axe, but Levi was convinced, as were his father and grandfather before him, that these questions were practically a matter of life or death.     
    Jesus’ full-house audience that day at beside the lake was peppered with many men like Levi, men who’d come to hear this rabbi from Nazareth. Most wondered aloud, “Can any good thing come from such a place?”  They’d heard about him, and were curious to hear this teacher’s opinion about how to best thank the Creator for cut fruit, the right length for the tassels on one’s prayer shawl, and how to measure their strides on the Sabbath so they didn’t inadvertently work by taking one step too many. As he seated himself along the lakeshore in a prime spot, Levi knew he’d best be attentive. Jesus’ words would be additional kindling for the fiery discussion at the synagogue that would follow His visit to their area.   
    Imagine Levi’s surprise when Jesus didn’t talk about the proper way to bless a bowl of cut figs. He told a cluster of stories instead, telling His hearers about an odd kingdom He claimed was God’s where people were themselves the fruit. Levi knew the power of a story to make a point; he used the technique himself when a particularly slow-witted member of his congregation didn’t understand him.
    Jesus’ stories were ridiculous…insulting even!  Levi was furious that Rabbi Jesus would tell the people a story that wasn’t even much of a story – it was simply a description of the life cycle of a seed. A seed!  What kind of a hoax was this?! How could a plant tell people more about God’s kingdom than a Law-loving man like Levi?   Levi considered himself a fair and open-minded man, but as he listened to Jesus, he absently fingered the tassels on his tallit and slammed his heart shut.
    Amen.

+ + + + + + +
 

    Jesus told those willing to hear Him that the process of a seed’s growth is a simile that can help us discover His kingdom here and now. A plot of ground, planted intentionally with seed, tells us exactly what we need to know about the way His kingdom works. There are many who believe they’re growing God’s kingdom by with beautifully-crafted religious technique. But all rules and methods can ever do is create a structure. We humans have the capability to build things, but are powerless to make growth happen.
    Jesus’ little story, found only in the gospel of Mark, carries a heaven-sized message that tells us that we are barren earth, impotent to generate life or produce fruit. God’s kingdom is contained wholly in the seed – His life, planted in each of us who follows Him. The whole aim of the seed’s life is to come to maturity and be ready for harvest by the One who planted it in the first place. This parable isn’t a biology lesson. It’s about the mystery of His life lived in us.
    And the world around us – every blade of grass, every shaft of wheat, every willow and thistle and palm is explaining the mystery to us.

Review: Story Engineering

Toward the end of his life, King Solomon famously noted, "Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body." (Ecc. 12:12) In our modern age, we are now up to the point where there are endless numbers of books about the writing of books. Some new classics about the art of writing, like Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird or Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down The Bones, are designed to inspire both beginning and veteran authors.

There are other books that function as "how to" texts for adult newbie writers. These study tools can be helpful for some, and wearying for others. There is no one-size-fits-all manual that will deliver everything that an aspiring author needs to craft a book. A person who wants to learn to tell a story will benefit from wading through a few "how to" manuals in order to glean the information that works for him or her.

Story Engineering: Mastering The Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing by Larry Brooks (Writers Digest Books, 2011) is a how-to manual for aspiring novelists. Brooks, a writing coach and the the author of five thrillers, approaches his subject matter with the precision of...well, a very chatty engineer. He insists that even those who sucessfully create their stories organically (like Stephen King, whose style Brooks refers to as "pantsing", as in, "writing by their seat of their pants") are bound by the rules of story engineering.   

The book explores the components used to build a story: concept, character, theme, structure, scene execution and voice. Brooks relies on popular recent blockbusters like Dan Brown's ubiquitous The DaVinci Code to provide examples of how these components *must* be fitted together to create a marketable final product. He insists that if someone follows the formula (while insisting that it is not a formula), the author will increase their chances of creating a book that will catch the eye of an acquisitions editor:

Without the right knowledge, without mastering a formidable list of basics that is rarely talked about coherently, most of us end up with a dream that never materializes...too often (authors) don't even recognize the pit they're in, so when the rejection slips arrive they don't have a clue as to why. 

I'll tell you why, and I haven't even read their manuscripts. They were rejected because one or more of the Six Core Competencies was executed at a level that failed to inspire the agent, editor, or producer to offer a contract....here's the good news: The knowledge of how to understand and apply the Six Core Competencies of successful storytelling is out there. In fact, it's right here in your hands.

I have no quibble with the basic content of the book. It is formula - but novice writers need a helpful introduction to the rules so they know how to obey and intentionally violate them in order for their stories to capture the attention of readers in our era of "making many (many, many, many) books". Though this is not the be-all, end-all of writing books, it will serve a purpose for some beginning writers of the left-brained variety who want to understand how to construct a page-turning story.

What I didn't like about Story Engineering was Brooks' habit of announcing and then announcing some more that he was about to make a Big Point. He devoted pages and pages of the book to hyping this principle or that one before he actually came out and just said it. It made me feel as though he was trying to sell me on the book even though I was already reading it, and I started resenting him for it about a third of the way through the book. If all of this point-padding were removed, the book would probably be about half its 288-page length - and it would have been a much more interesting and user-friendly read.  

*I received a Kindle version of this book to review from Thomas Nelson publishers.

Building a bridge from here to There - part 3

Transitions are the bridges from here to There in written and verbal communication. In part one of this three-part series, I offered some basic thoughts about how transitions serve as a sort of GPS, directing readers/listeners from point to point of an author or speaker's idea journey. In part two of the series, I showed what happens when transitions are ignored in one especially potent form of communication - a church service. I created a generic example pieced together from years of sitting through services where people in charge may have thought about the specific element for which they were responsible, but often didn't think about how or why to create bridges between these elements. (And in some cases, they didn't think through the "why" the element was there to begin with, which meant that they often missed the point and purpose of the element entirely. But that's another whole series of blog posts - or a book!)

If you've hung with me so far, then allow me to have a final look at this subject. I've re-imagined my imaginary church service, this time, with the kinds of bridges from here to There that are designed to help a group move through corporate worship together. 

As the doors to the sanctuary open, a single individual is playing worship music on a keyboard. The music has the effect of hallowing the space and time, so as the congregation enters the room, they are being cued to shift gears and come together for worship. Those involved in leading worship (musicians, preacher/teacher, sound team) were gathered for prayer "off stage" in order to prepare their hearts and be receptive to what the Spirit was saying to the church that morning.

The worship leader took the stage and read a passage of Scripture and prayed that God would help the congregation give themselves freely in worship, responding to the One who'd given himself to them first. 

Several songs grouped around the theme of the day's message are sung, punctuated once with a brief and appropriate prayer of thanksgiving from someone in the congregation in response to the words of the song. As the sung worship draws to a close, a worship team member reads the text of an ancient prayer that echoes the theme for the day's service. 

The person giving announcements takes the stage, and welcomes all assembled to the gathering. The announcements of upcoming activities are brief, simple and clear - framed in terms of who the church is as a worshiping community. The church has recently decided to do away with "passing the plate" due to the leaders' growing conviction that this Scripture applies to this practice coupled with the fact that many more members are giving using an online donation tool. The announcement-maker notes that there are offering boxes positioned near the back of the church. 

The preacher then takes the stage and prays for the congregation - that they will live lives that give freely to God and to others, and that his/her words will be used of God to equip each one to follow Him more faithfully. S/he reads the day's Bible text(s), then preaches a message that points people toward Jesus, and ends with some words designed to bridge from the text of the message to the next element of the service: communion. 

A member of the congregation comes and reads a brief devotional thought s/he's written about the day's text that contains a brief corporate prayer of confession of sin. The worship leader allows some time for silent reflection, before speaking words about God's grace and forgiveness over the people. S/he then reminds the congregation that God is inviting all of those who believe in Him to share in this meal together, and blesses those who are not yet believers, letting them know that they are free not to participate. As the worship team plays an instrumental piece of worship, the congregation is invited to come to one of the stations around the room that contains the elements, take them, and return to their seats.  As they do,  The worship leader reads 1 Cor. 11:23-26 and prays as the congregation takes the elements together. Two more songs of thanksgiving, then a congregation member comes to the front and reads a benediction over the congregation, blessing them as they head out into mission. 

If you compare the haphazard assemblage of elements I described in Part 2, you'll see some tweaks to some of those elements above. But if you look past the tweaks, you'll see that the basic structure is pretty much the same - but the bridges - the transitions - are much stronger. With intentionality about good transitions, there is less room for ham-handed transitions (like "Go team!") to do the heavy lifting of building a bridge from element to element.  

Because I've been involved in worship planning in a variety of different settings, and because I am a writer who is forced by my vocation to contemplate how to create fluid transitions in my work, I am willing to confess that perhaps I am extra-sensitive when I see them omitted or dismissed in corporate worship.

Or am I? If you've lived through a few church services like the one I described in Part 2, did the lack of intentionality about the transitions bother you? Why or why not?