List du jour

A near-perfect grandma day: Sitting in those butt-numbing chairs in an 76 db McDonald's Playland, watching your almost four-year-old grandson run and laugh, then going to the grocery store and letting said grandson sit in the front of one of those mutant shopping carts that looks like a fire engine while you shop, then watching some hideous cartoons on TV (when did newer cartoons become so visually ugly? And why?), then going to church with grandpa where the child hated the loud worship music but loved the bright kids' area, then hanging out together blowing bubbles at dusk before I tucked him into bed with a story and a prayer.

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Best post I've read in a long time: This Cerulean Sanctum entry, discussing the constant complaining about one another in the body of Christ going on in the blogosphere, over radio airwaves, in print and most especially, in person. I was simultaneously convicted by this entry (God knows I do more than my share of carping) and cheered (Dan Edelen's intelligent analysis is almost always fiber-rich food for thought).
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Dumb idea: Going to Taste of Chicago on a 97 degree day while on a new heavy-duty diuretic.


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Most under-used resource in my life: extended time with God. I discovered again in Kansas City how powerful it is to simply sit all day with an open Bible, a journal, and a desperate and impoverished soul. I read through Leviticus - an unusual choice, to say the least, but I felt strongly that this is where God wanted me during my time there.

Author Chris Tiegreen writes about Leviticus in his book Creative Prayer: "Sometime during a reread of that strange legal document, I began to smell the smell of sacrifice. The vision of a constant stream of blood flowing from that altar began to impact me. The aroma of incense, the sound of bleating, and the hazy air rising from burning flesh filled my disturbed heart. The busy rituals of preparation seemed to say to me over and over again that there was once a vast, tragic rift between me and my God, and there are two things I can never, ever take casually: my sin and his holiness."

In a place like the International House of Prayer, where there is so much worship going on, maybe Leviticus is exactly where I needed to be, for exactly the reasons Tiegreen describes.

Just my size

When I was about to turn six, I really wanted a Barbie house for my birthday.

When I sixteen going on seventeen, I remember crushing on a pair of Frye boots, and insisting that they would be the birthday gift of my dreams.

When I was twenty-nine (for the first time, as I often joke about being 29 again every year), I am pretty sure my birthday list included major appliances.

Sitting on the bubble of turning 48, all I could imagine wanting this year was a trip to Kansas City to touch base with some friends and spend time at the International House of Prayer. My husband Bill loves this place even more than I do, and we've always, always visited here together. But the last time we were able to do that was two years ago. Moving, book writing, job changes, stuff with our kids and life all managed to wallpaper our schedule with committments requiring us to be present in Chicago.

When Bill asked me a few weeks ago what I wanted for my birthday, I said, "Really, all I want is to go to KC." Through a crazy chain of last minute events, Bill said, "Go. Happy Birthday."

When I write that, it looks like I nagged like an acid-filled dripping faucet, but I didn't. I just said it. And Bill gave me the gift that cost him more than the price of the rental car to get me here. He's a man that could use a vacation, and craves long chunks of time with the Lord. And this the gift he gave to me.

It would be perfect if he was here to share it. (Next time!)

Kickin' `em when they're down

I get Monday Morning Insight's (MMI) weekly pastor/leadership newsletter every (surprise!) Monday morning. The dudes there definitely have their biases - they heavily promote the Second Gen Mega Church church leaders. I don't always agree with the MMI guys and their congregational cover boys, but the things they're thinking about and doing affect us all, whether we want them to or not.

So it's been interesting (like a car wreck is interesting) to follow the discussion that's ensued at the site in the wake of a question about church hoppers vs. church "lifers", which shifted in an instant to become a discussion about the problems with church hoppers versus the problems with screwed-up dysfunctional abusive church leadership. This is an old, tiring debate that never seems to change any minds or any practices. The MMI conversation in particular has left me feeling a little beat up, frankly. Both sides (because in this conversation, there really is a sense of "versus" that is fueling this round and venue of the old, tiring debate) mostly sound like Jets Vs. Sharks, not sheep and shepherds.

My good friends (scattered all over Chicago and WI) have been listening to me weep and grieve these last few months over the fact that we don't have a church home. (If you want to hear the whole sad saga, e-mail me at mishvl@yahoo.com. An abbreviated version is also listed on the above MMI post.) We have been attending a place, but it is shockingly unhealthy, and we know at this point in our lives, we aren't the stick of dynamite these sleepy people desperately need. I have grieved deeply, perhaps obsessively, that we're back on the road again...again. And I have grieved the molasses-like stuck-ness that has left this middle-aged church shrinking, clubby and completely disconnected from the community around her.

So listen up, MMI guys: I don't want to be looking for a new church. I don't want to be a church hopper. Your conversation this week hurts right now. Not like conviction hurts - in order to bring change. No, it hurts like cliques and smug answers hurt.

I want to be the church - the bride!, live the mission, and love and be loved by Jesus.

Go home

Because my husband was preaching this morning, I had an opportunity to mediate on Luke 8:28-39 this week. Those thoughts became a reading he used to introduce the story of the text. I’m sharing it because I wondered if some of you might find this creative recounting of the story an encouragement.

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He terrified them.

They were all relieved when he “relocated” from town to live in his own personal ghetto – the graveyard just outside the city limits. The only time they had to deal with him was when they went to bury one of their own out there and his violent, naked screams tore into their grief like a knife. He saw the terror in their eyes, but he was powerless to calm them. Or to calm himself.

There was a rasping soundtrack blaring inside his head day and night: “You’re worthless…useless…beyond redemption.” Couldn’t anyone hear the noise?

There was a tiny corner of his tormented soul that had once tried firing flares to God: Help me. All he ever heard in response was “God doesn’t hear you, fool!”

But that was a lie. Years after everyone else had abandoned him, fled from him in fear - Jesus came. To him. As Jesus approached him in that desolate field of tombs, the man’s tormented screams became louder and louder. Without fear, Jesus said firmly: “Come out of him.”

The response? “What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, don't torture me!”

Jesus looked at him, pure, fierce love. “What is your name?”

The man didn’t answer. The demons did. “Legion.” The Roman army’s legions numbered 3000-6000 men. The anarchy of the legion of demons tormenting the man ceased – with military obedience, the demons spoke as one.

Those who’d followed Jesus to the graveyard heard the voice, a ragged dark scream begging Jesus to command the legion of demons anywhere but back to the abyss from where they’d come.

“Send us into the pigs over there,” Legion begged. Whimpered. Demanded.

Jesus anticipated exactly what the maddened pigs would do next. And for the sake of those present – and for our sake as well – he permitted the legion of demons to enter the pigs. The quiet milling herd became a swirling fury. The swine were suddenly hearing and feeling what the man had experienced for years. They thundered down a hillside and into a lake...a watery abyss...and drowned. Every last one of them.

The pig herders ran shrieking into town.
“And he…”
“…Then the man…”
“…and the pigs…”
“…like an avalanche…”
“…drowned…”
“…It was Jesus….”

The people from the town came thundering like a herd to the graveyard. And stopped, as one, by the sight of the man.
Someone had given the man a cloak and the man was wearing it! And he was sitting and listening to Jesus…smiling and laughing.

The townspeople were terrified. More terrified than they’d been when the man was running naked among the tombs, screaming and swearing. What kind of power had made the madman whole? As one, a legion of sorts, they begged Jesus to leave their town. To stop disrupting the “normal” order of things.

Jesus’ answer? OK.

As Jesus stepped into the boat to leave, the man who’d lived among the dead approached him. He wasn’t laughing now. His eyes filled with tears. “Please, Jesus. Take me with you,” the man begged. “Please.”

Jesus was moved with compassion for the man…and for the cowering crowd beyond them. Jesus told the man he needed to go back to the town…back home…and live among all the people who’d been terrified of him before, and were even more terrified of him now.

“Tell them how much God has done for you,” Jesus said.

The man’s heart generated a thousand questions in a fraction of a second. All he wanted to do was serve this One who’d set him free. And as the man looked into the eyes of his deliverer, he knew that Jesus understood that. Loved him. And wanted to do the same for each one of them. Jesus nodded toward the murmuring, tense group behind them and said, “Tell them.”

The man nodded his yes, turned and walked toward the terrified crowd.

#1 Hypocrite

"I'm fed up with Christians these days," my friend said on the phone last night.

She's spent the last few years living in very intense, intentional discipleship and faith community settings. She's put her own heart and attitudes both under a microscrope, simultaneously allowing them to be projected onto a big screen in the name of transparency, healing and spiritual growth. She's experienced the kind of kingdom-radical transformation most of us can only dream of. She was a poster girl for the parable life.

I asked her what was bugging her about other believers. Her answer: "People who should know better and be better just end up acting like the rest of the world."

Haven't we all sung that song? Maybe some of us sing accompanied by a banjo, and others by a full symphony orchestra, but the lyrics are always the same.

I asked her what she was doing with all her frustration and there was a half-beat pause. "I'm not really attending church right now because I can't sit through any more long, repetitive services. I'm not really reading my Bible or praying..." And as she talked, she confessed that in some weird ways, she was becoming exactly what she disliked so intensely those around her - someone who knew how to play the game, but whose spiritual life was gradually being drained of power. Her disappointment and disillusionment with other believers were eroding a once-vibrant walk with Jesus. And she knew that few people in her life these days would be able to perceive the subtle cooling that had taken place in her once-fiery heart, precisely because she had learned to play everyone's favorite Christian game, the Hypocrite Show.

The conversation was a good one, especially since I didn't have to say much. As she confessed her struggles, she became acutely aware of the course correction she needed in her life. The bonus was that God used her struggle to convict me, as well. Smug judgementalism dogs me - I hate it in myself. (But something tells me I don't hate it nearly enough, since it is a regular and familiar battleground in my life.)

Again and again in our lives, we have to come to terms with the hypocrites around us, and the hypocrisy that lurks in our own hearts. The beauty of the parable of the tax collector and the Pharisee is that the poverty of the rich man was more precious to Jesus than the "righteous" performance of the religious man. It's ironic that the moment we stand in judgement of those hypocrites, we are a hair's-breadth away from becoming one of them.

Have you ever realized you were on the way to becoming what you hated in others' lives? I'd love to hear about what made the lights go on in your heart.

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Update: The high drama of the church women's summer book club's loony choice of "The Secret" ended. (Kidding about the drama - to my knowledge, there wasn't any, other than a couple of e-mails I sent) An announcement went out today - cancelled for lack of interest. Good - because it was a poorly-informed reading choice in this church's context. Troubling - because the reasons for the "why" and "how" of this choice really need to be addressed. I'm not sure they will be.

Get me a refrigerator magnet

The relationship between art (and artists) and the church was a chilly one when I first came to faith in Christ in the `70's. Evangelicalism had a serious case of amensia, leaving itself disconnected from 2000 years of church history. We got kitsch instead of thoughtful, provocative, beautiful art.

It's a lovely thing to see the tide turning. Lovelier still, to be able to surf on it. The old, false, mean-spirited walls are crumbling. It is a slow process, but a hopeful one. I love the changes I see happening in the church's attitude toward art. Here in Chicago:

Willow Creek does an amazing arts conference each June. How I wish I was there this year. I followed the reporting on their conference blog, and it made me salivate as I read: http://2007artsconferenceblog.blogspot.com/

Karitos, that unpredictable, scrappy, vagabond and completely delightful multi-disciplinary arts conference, continues to be held each year: www.karitos.com.

Artists who happen to be Christians make art. Write books. Create music. I am on a mailing list for a group that is trying to gather for artist support and discussion in Chicago. The groups's purpose is not to help its members figure out how to paint a pastel picture with a Bible verse (taken out of context) on it - but how people of faith can create excellent art. I'm hoping to visit this group at one of their upcoming gatherings. I'll let you know what its like.

I've attended a couple of different writer's groups this year - first time in my life to try to be a part of a writer's group. The writing in the non-Christian group was awful. Bad, talentless writing - or porn, which actually doesn't take much talent either. The writing in the Christian group has been, for the most part, pretty darn good.

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On a separate note: Though I'm not sure you can call it art, my sons Ben and Jacob are now the proud hosts of a radio show being broadcast over the FCC airwaves at WNUR-FM , the Northwestern University radio station. The dudes will be on the air from 5-7 a.m. every Saturday through the summer, and, if you're an early riser with titanium eardrums, you can also listen to them online. Ben and Jake play bands most people have never heard of (including me) including Deerhoof, The Shags, Old Canes, Jana Hunter and Tragedy Skit System.

Banned book at church

Bill and I have been attending a small church for the last 9 months or so. Small churches typically don't drown their members' schedules in lots of programs and meetings and busywork. This congregation is especially sparse, programming-wise. Besides Sunday services and a wee youth group, there was some kind of once-a-month women's meeting that did...something, but I have no idea what, and a women's Bible study that met this spring to explore the book of James. (Let the reader note - I didn't participate in either of those women's "ministry" offerings.)

I was surprised to get an e-mail note to the women of the church that read:
Ladies Book Club
Book Choice: The Secret by Rhonda Byrne
Instructions: Please purchase/borrow the book, before the start of the first session please read
the Forward, The introduction and the first two chapters.
For the second session please read chapters 3 - 6, the following session read two chapters.
This will be an open forum to express your views and feelings on the book, and gain insight from everyone attending. I hope it will be a fun and interesting time! This group is open to all of the women (of the church) & whom ever they wish to invite.

(If you're unfamiliar with Oprah's most recent fave book, author, pastor and professor Donald Whitney has a fair and non-hysterical review here. )

I give the context for the invitation to spend some of my summer evenings with the ideas found in The Secret and the women of this troubled church because this has left me in the unpleasant position of Bad Cop, questioning both the "why" of this book choice as well as asking whether the elders at this church reviewed the book before giving the OK to the woman who initiated this book group. (Aw, come on. You already know what the answer is.)

If there was a sense that this church was interested in exploring the intersection of Biblical truth and pop culture, I might have fewer questions and different concerns. But I have seen no evidence of this in the kind of teaching the church proffers on Sunday mornings, the kinds of outreach (none) the church does, or the kinds of things the women typically discuss amongst themselves. I am trying to figure out what itch The Secret scratches for the women of this church, and why they're willing to spend time with this book instead of something that might spark some spiritual growth among them. I am also realizing that the trust issues (old scars) I have when it comes to church leadership have been scraped open a bit with the announcement of this book group.

How funny that I, a writer who reads widely in my areas of passion as well as a reader who encourages others to read books and blogs with which they'll be challenged or even disagree in order to shape their hearts and minds would become Bad Cop when it comes to a book group.

BUT its not just a book group. It's a book group AT CHURCH. If I wanted to learn about The Secret, I'd watch Oprah or go to a discussion group at Barnes and Noble. But I don't.

I want Jesus....

What do you think about this? Am I wrong in my concerns? If so, why?

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And just to lighten my mood on this depressing topic, I'm posting a picture of 3-1/2 year-old grandson Gabriel.

See? I feel better already.

:)

Out of the money

I didn't even know I'd been entered in the Evangelical Press Association's contest, but apparently my story "Tina Meets The King" came in fifth in the Fiction category. Here's some irony for you:

(1) Since I wasn't aware that Discipleship Journal had entered the piece in the competition, coming in fifth was a nice little surprise.

(2) I'd originally written the piece after my first visit to the International House of Prayer in Kansas City. The visit solidified my conviction that I could no longer stay on staff at our church in Wisconsin. "Tina Meets The King" captured both all that was wrong with my life at the time, as well as all that God really wanted from me in story form.

(3) I had to do a double-take when I realized the story had been placed in the Fiction category. "Tina Meets The King" feels like reporting from the front lines to me.

Thank you, Jesus.

This is worship?

What does worship look like? Here are thirteen ways to offer a bit of yourself to God, and none of them include singing:

1. Make eye contact with the lady behind the counter at McDonalds. Ask her how her day is going, and thank her for her help.

2. Let someone into traffic in front of you.

3. Put something away for someone else in your house, and thank God for the person to whom it belongs.

4. Wipe the crumbs off the kitchen counter. Without griping.

5. Go through a tollbooth, and pay your toll and the toll of the person in line behind you.

6. Send an old friend an e-mail. Better yet, write him or her a note - slap a stamp on it and mail it old school.

7. Carry your neighbor’s garbage cans from the curb to his garage door.

8. Say hello to the people you pass on the street.

9. Give a young mom your place in line at the grocery store.

10. Buy a newspaper from the guy selling them on the street rather than dropping your quarters in a box.

11. Choose to park at the far end of the lot so someone else can have that great space you spotted near the door.

12. Compliment a coworker.

13. Pray for your family members. Tell them you love them. Don't ask them to take out the garbage for at least a half an hour after you tell them you love them.

Some reader thoughts today...

I am so happy that I get to read again! I've been completely focused on research and writing for the last 9 months or so. I've been reading A LOT, but its been a lot of "hafta" reading. (I'm not complaining, because the "hafta" has a huge measure of "wanna" in there.)

But now I get to read whatever I want to read. This is a great thing since I work part-time in a bookstore, and can borrow books by the armload as long as I handle them carefully and bring them back quickly and in pristine condition. I recently read Pete Grieg and Andy Freeman's Punk Monk - a book about the 24-7 prayer movement in Europe, and living a creative, monastic, dedicated life. Fantastic - and challenging. Convicting. Wooing.

Because I've been really, really sick the last two weeks, I also got a chance to read 3 pulp fiction books I was handed for free when I went to that CBA dealie in Indianapolis a few months ago. I am not a fiction person, but when you're sick, pulp fiction seems right. I read one of the other books I was given a few weeks ago while at McDonalds with grandson Gabriel, and hated it so much I actually threw it away. One running gag in the book featured Donny Osmond, OK? (I have never, ever, ever thrown a book away before.)

It took a little self-talk to ramp up for more fiction after that horrible reading experience, but I was too sick for Big Thoughts. The good news is that I didn't throw any other books away. But with one of them, I actually contemplated it briefly.

Today I checked out Phil Yancey's Prayer, Mark Buchanan's Hidden In Plain Sight...and a Karen Kingsbury book. The first two are favorite authors of mine. And I'm curious about Karen Kingsbury. She cranks out books really fast, and people seem to like them, so I'll try to suspend my "no fiction" rule a little longer.

Since I'm still on antibiotics, I guess I can.

P.S. about books: I'll include this offer on this blog, since I'm posting it in other places as well, and included it in my newsletter. I bet you know someone going through some tough trials right now.(That "someone" might even be you.)I'd love to encourage a few of those people with the gift of a signed set of my books:Parablelife: Living the stories Jesus told in real time and Uprooted: Growing a Parable Life from the inside out. The first three of you who get back to me at michelle@theparablelife.com with the name and address of a person in need of a little encouragement will be able to gift your friend (or yourself) with signed copies of the books.

Mom moment

Jacob, 20, holding a copy of a screenprinted illustration he's selling. He's an art machine.

He sees the world in a completely different way. Love it. Love him.

Contact me if you want to know how to own your own copy.

Why should the devil have all the good music?

This was the music of Christian counter-culture, circa 1970's








This music INFURIATED a lot of people back in the day. Christians singing pop or rock? Larry Norman (on the left) penned the immortal words "Why should the devil have all the good music"? in response to the scathing criticism from most in the mainstream church to his music: the sounds of rock `n roll married to songs about (and to) Jesus.

Last night, while watching American Idol, I was struck by how different things are today.











Jordin Sparks, a Christian, sang a song penned by Christian recording artist Scott Krippanye (and a pastor friend of his). The song, "This is my now", won the American Idol songwriting competition. Jordin's performance of this song probably cinched the competition for her.

From Larry Norman to Jordin Sparks. It's enough to give a person a case of whiplash.

We've gone mainstream. The jury is still out about whether this is a good development.

Think on these things...

Is the glass half-empty or half-full? My own tendency is to see the glass as half-empty, and suspect that the other half full of some kind of odorless, tastelss clear toxic chemical.

Some pretty serious things have happened in the last few days:

- A freakish series of events in the last week may (?) have deep-sixed the publication of the book manuscript I just finished.

- My husband was in a car accident. The other person involved in the accident has already retained a lawyer.

- One of my children has made a very hurtful, painful choice that reads like rejection to me.

- Our church situation continues to be a source of sorrow and dysfunction, not community. We are weary at constantly grubbing around for ad hoc community. It's better than nothin', but it ain't what we know it should be.

Yes, it could always be worse. All of it could be a heckuva lot worse. No one is hurt (my husband is just fine - not even a sore neck) or sick or in jail or in imminent danger. But those sorts of comparisons don't really help at all. "It could always be worse", the words of the half-full-glass people, throw circumstances into some sort of a comparison mode. Those comparisons actually tend to make people feel like their tsuris (Yiddish for troubles) shouldn't matter. But tsuris happens. And stuffing them, or ignoring them, or saying that things could be much worse tends to make me feel much worse because I start to feel like a gigantic wimp.

When I have attempted to count my blessings as a way to assuage my woes, I grit my teeth, start listing them, and then deteriorate into a puddle of self-pity.

You know what actually seems to change me?

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." - Philippians 4:8

The Greek word for "think" here is logizomai. It carries the sense of numbering, or accounting for, gathering. Counting my blessings doesn't work. But "counting Him" - numbering the Immeasurable, pondering all that He is: true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy - this changes me. Centers me. Shelters me. Aims my life away from me...and this...toward Him. He is wonderful, and worthy of every praise I can offer Him. (Somehow, I wonder if the praise that rises to Him when things aren't so good smells different to Him...?)

The glass is empty - poured out as an offering. The glass is full - overflowing.

A gigantic milestone

My husband Bill began college in 1973 at Elmhurst. After a year there, he transferred to Trinity College. He loved Trinity, but had to drop out after three semesters there because of a serious accident that left him in the hospital for a month.

After we got married in 1979, he realized that his lack of a degree was holding him back from advancing in his Information Systems career. Elmhurst had recently started an adult degree completion program, so he started their program in 1982. It took him several more years to finish up some gen ed credits, but he received his Bachelor of Science in Business from Elmhurst in 1990.

But the desire to obtain a theological education never went away. In 1999, he tentatively took his first class at the Trinity extension site in Milwaukee. There was only the one Master's degree option available through those extension sites at the time - the 48-credit hour Master of Arts in Religion (most Masters' programs are 32-36 hours including the thesis; the M.A.R. is a 48 credit hour endeavor). Bill loved the classes (most of `em, anyway) and kept taking classes, one at a time while working full-time, parenting three teens, and being involved in church leadership. We relocated back to IL in 2004, and he finished the degree here.

He completed all of his degree work in December `06, and grumbled a bit about walking in the ceremony in May, but the smile on his face yesterday was the smile of a man who'd achieved a gigantic milestone in his life. He's a gifted leader and teacher, and wants so much to be used by God. I'm so proud of him!

Rest in piece

Dan at Cerulean Sanctum posted once again about the bizzy-bizzy nature of the Christian subculture. It's a theme he's tackled again and again, and I hope he keeps at it. It reminded me of another post I'd read a couple of months ago at the Christianity Today Gifted For Leadership blog about how easy it is for well-meaning, gifted people to slowly get sucked out of the rhythms of our own lives with God because we're trying to serve Him.

It occurs to me that many of us use our time the same way we use credit cards - spending beyond what's in our budgeting, buying what we don't need and can't satisfy, and hoping we'll be able to pay off the debt...er...uh...you know...sometime.

If ever I've heard a "stewardship" sermon that touches on the topic of time (very, very rarely), it usually has something to do with giving time to the church. Being busy. In over 30 years of church life, I have never heard a sermon about the sabbath. Have you?

I am grateful for the space to really listen to the Word of God. To pray. To listen to the sound of my grandson's voice. In a little flourish of irony, Gabriel is sitting next to my husband right now, singing the jingle to a credit card commercial.

**********

I visited WI yesterday for the first time since last summer. Had a great visit with my compadre and pray-on-the-phone-together-every-Wednesday-morning sister Meg. Got to visit with a wonderful semi-retired pastor and his razor sharp wife. And saw my friend Mary, who stood by us when so many others abandoned us during a particularly brutal church implosion.

The day was filled with spring sunlight, deep God-conversation and prayer. Even though it was Wednesday, it was a sabbath. Rest. Creation. Re-creation in conversation.

I could almost hear Him gently breathing.

Let's Make A Deal

You are looking for a church. Here are your choices:

(a) A once-Charismatic congregation that's transitioned away from those roots to a hyper-cautious blend of seeker-Reformed.
(b) A church with a bit of an identity crisis that belongs to a fundy-holiness denomination, but has positioned itself in the emerging stream, ancient-future variety.
(c) A highly programmed big box where the paid staff are leading the key ministries, a fleet of volunteers reports to the staff, filling slots on an org chart
(d) A small and getting smaller church riddled with complacency and compromise

The standard answers are - go where God has called you; look to see where your theology and gifts best match; pray.

What happens when you've done those things for three years and nothing happens? "Nothing" here means that you become a butt in the pew for an hour or so each week.

Is it too much to ask for leadership you can respect and trust, and that leadership's willingness to empower and equip people to do meaningful ministry? Is it too much to ask for good theology, an embrace of the life of the Spirit, a passion for souls, and a sense of community?

Sigh.

Lonely Boy

As the news about what was going on inside the heart of VT shooter Cho Seung-Hui broke yesterday, followed with information about how others had perceived him throughout his formative years (to sum up - either invisible or really weird), it struck me that there are a lot of Chos walking around this planet.

There are few of us so damaged and demonized that we'll go out and buy a gun and write a ranting manifesto that channels odd Biblical/literary references, rage at the capitalist system and Columbine. But the evil soundtrack that looped in Chos soul is background music for a lot of people.

Cho Seung-Hui, apparently, was a strange, troubled, quiet kid. People either ignored him or used him as the butt of their jokes. How many of us have been where Cho has been - strange, quiet kids who've been ignored or teased? Or worse, abused?

I remember what it was like to be the weird new kid at a new school in 8th grade. At first I was ignored by all the other insecure kids, who'd already formed their middle school survival cliques. I was clumsy and didn't feel very attractive (long straight blonde hair parted down the middle was the style, OK?) and somehow, had been tagged with the nickname "Monkey" from the 7th graders on our new block. I reacted negatively the first couple of times they tried the name out, which meant I was branded with that horrible name for the rest of the year. I can still barely type the word "Monkey" without a rush of shame and adrenaline.

That pain opened the door in my life to promiscuity (what better way to make some friends than to give some of myself away? Plus, maybe I wouldn't feel so ugly if someone wanted me even for a few minutes). Other things that entered through that open door were suicidal thoughts, drug use, a complete disengagement academically. Not one good thing came into my soul as a result of being first ignored then teased.

And though most of us probably can point to some time or other in our lives when being ignored and being teased has happened to us, most of us try to make sure that we never have to feel like that ever, ever, ever again. Which means that if there's a weird, invisible guy like Cho in our lives, we tend to keep our distance so none of that weirdness ever splashes us.

I love the way that Jesus wants to march right in there and connect with the Chos of the world, which is all of us, without Him. This is why He came:

"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." (Luke 4:18-19)

Without Christ, I am capable of opening the same door to evil, rage and despair that Cho did. Without Christ, I am completely focused on self-preservation instead of pouring my life into the lives of those around me - which include a few people moving in the wrong direction on the Cho continuum. Even in Christ, I love me too much.

Join me today in praying the above Scripture for yourself and for all of those Christ-followers you know who need to be empowered by the Holy Spirit to march into darkness and preach good news to the poor, freedom to the prisoners, sight to the blind, release for the oppressed, and God's favor.

I wonder as I wander...

I got a chance to hear Todd Hunter of Alpha USA this morning at the Catalyst quarterly meeting. (Wouldja look at all those hyperlinks in one sentence!) He gave a great quickie primer on thinking missionally in our changing post-modern culture, followed, somewhat ironically, by a very modern-in-orientation saturation ad campaign leading into the push to do lots of Alpha at lots of churches across Lake County next fall.

I like the concept of Alpha, especially the focus on community, conversation, and the inclusion of teaching about and encounter with the Holy Spirit as part of the evangelism process - and it was cool to hear that just last Sunday, my mother-in-law got baptized (on Easter morning) because she'd been going through Alpha at a church near her home in Sun City, AZ.

Though this morning felt a little like a commercial (probably because it was designed to motivate all of the pastors and church staff members to get on board with the plan), I am praying for the many people around me who need to know their Savior. Alpha may be the tool that God will use to spark evangelism and community in some of the churches in our region.

I'd researched Alpha a few years ago, and even made a pitch for it when I was on staff at the church in WI. I've heard that it can be a good shot in the arm for churches, and can provide the additional benefit of giving a good 'basics of Christianity' boot camp to church members. Any of you reading this have any experience with Alpha? Positive? Negative? Neither?

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Friday special: Some of my favorite blog haunts these days:

Your Writer's Group - a thoughtful, brave blog about writing and Christianity, done by night by a thoughtful, brave acquisitions editor who is employed by WaterBrook Press during the day.

A Place For The God Hungry - Pastor Jim Martin IS a pastor - his blog oozes humility and pastoral care for his readers. He asks great spiritual formation questions, and listens well to his respondents.

Two posts that will break your heart and make you think: The People Formerly Known As Pastor and The People Formerly Known As The Congregation.

From across the pond: Living Spirituality

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Print read of the week - Dr. Sarah Sumner's Men and Women In The Church. I have avoided the topic of women's leadership in the church like the plague, but had to do some finishing work on the Money, Sex and Power section of "The Church For Skeptics". I'd followed along as Scot McKnight blogged about the book at jesuscreed.org - and grabbed the book off the shelf at the Trinity Bookstore (where I work part-time) last week as an afterthought. The book is a revelation to me. It helps that Dr. Sumner hung out and learned in the same Chicago suburban evangelical world in which I live. It helps that she is not angry, which sometimes characterizes the writing of others on both sides of this issue.

I have ducked thinking deeply about this issue for years. I have a great husband who is my primary pastor, no matter what church I attend, and am grateful that he listens to and learns from me, as well. But as I write - and seek to speak more and more - I am going to have to stop ducking this issue. Dr. Sumner's book - both in tone and content -was a revelation for me ---

In the home stretch

I’m 95% done with “The Church For Skeptics” – well, with the writing part of it, anyway. It still has to go under an editor’s microscope, and then into a designer’s hands. I’m not sure what kind of rewriting I’ll have to do, although my guess is that it won’t be any significant amount. What an amazing process this has been. I’ve been working on this book non-stop since last summer and have gotten a chance to go deep as I’ve written on one of my favorite topics – the church.

After exploring the definition, the beliefs, the practices, the history, the denominations and the community of the church, as well as what Jesus has to say about religious insiders and spiritual outsiders, the process has changed me. I have run into every possible sort of group identifying themselves with the church as I’ve surfed the net the last few months. Notables include a nice man named Earl who has declared himself the true Pope, the flaming fury of the fundamentalist haters committed to showing up at soldiers’ funerals, the people who believe that the Bible is nothing more than an interesting Important Cultural Myth, white supremacists, and a lot of bloggers angry about everything from Southern Baptist church politics to the use of the “e” word – emerging.

The subject of the church stirs a lot of passion in me. It always has. I am ruined by the promise of what I saw when I read Scripture sitting alone in my room for 3 years because my parents prohibited me from attending church while I was a teen. I saw the problems of the church, but I also believed the description of who she is meant to be – a body, a family, a living temple, a bride. Given the dumb stuff* we’ve gone through at the hands of some mighty dysfunctional churches, it would have made a lot more sense to just walk away at some point. But I can’t…

I am amazed at the number of people who feel as passionately about the church as I do. Though some of them are at best misguided – and others are dangerous whack jobs – it’s been fun to discover that there are some interesting people who’ve tasted Jesus and, as a result, refuse to settle for a life of complacency and safe religion.

*One sorrow - More than anything, I wish I could have spared my kids the experience of living through the dumb stuff.

I do not like this noun

I love to volunteer to help, to serve, to minister, to use the gifts God has given me to bless another. Volunteer is a verb in this sentence.

I hate to be called a volunteer. Noun.

When I was on staff at a mid-sized evangelical church, we spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to fill slots in our org chart, especially in the children's ministry, cleaning and lawn mowing areas. Some of the people used words like "recruit" and "volunteer" A LOT. We brainstormed lots of creative ways to get people to volunteer for the grunt work of the church. (Of course, we never quite put it in those sort of bald terms, but really, that's what it was.)

On a recent visit to the Letters From Leavers website, I found a couple of points in one person's letter that seemed to capture what it is about the noun "volunteer" that cranks me a little. He (or she) wrote: "IC’s establish a hiearchy within the church. Paid staff know the answers and the average Joe believer takes their orders from them" and "IC’s promote believers to identify themselves by what they “do” at church and assign value, higher and lower, to their areas of service. A praise singer is awesome while a stage hand is trivial. They may say that “all” service is equally important but they treat them with high/lower values in mind."

So what is it about the word "volunteer" that bugs me? Two things - First, though no one quite puts it like this, it seems to me that often "volunteers" are the blue-collar laborers, doing tasks assigned by the white-collar staff. Second, most of us know that there is certainly a lot more church social currency given to someone who can play a killer guitar solo than the person who mows the lawn.

And though there are lots of good reasons for the former (and not a single valuable one for the second) - big churches ARE institutions and organizations, and need manpower (people power?) to keep them running at max capacity. And good leaders make sure to try to help plug people in to their org charts by using their gifts and talents, not just by finding someone with a pulse.

But I think there is a kind of non-profit business paradigm embedded in the word "volunteer". Scripture never uses this sort of image to describe the body of Christ. As a matter of fact, the idea of a volunteer kidney or tibia is absurd.

Every believer is called a priest. This is not a volunteer position. Our ministry of offering praise to God comes in the offerings we bring to him, and the way we love one another in the body. This can mean volunteering to watch poopy kids in the nursery, cleaning the toilets, or singing on a worship team - because we've been empowered to minister, not because we've been drafted (or conscripted by guilt) to BE A VOLUNTEER at a church.

P.S. - If any of you are blogger users and can explain why this wacky site doesn't show my line breaks between paragraphs, HELP! :) I don't like reading solid walls of text, either - and haven't entered it this way, so I'm not quite sure what I"m doing wrong.

Changed, not vaccinated

Minneapolis pastor Dave Johnson writes in today's Out Of Ur blog about a guy he knew growing up named Ray who was a pillar of the church - yet was completely barren of spiritual fruit in his life. Johnson writes, "The Spirit’s fruit, like love and joy, rarely showed up in him in any discernable way, and he didn’t much like it if showed up in yours."

He wonders what the deal was with Ray - how a lifetime of church involvement (including a stint in leadership) had seemed to change him so little.

I ask a variation of this question often. My particular slant on the question is, "Why do kids who grow up in families with committed Christian parents choose to go faith-dormant (or worse - to walk away) as they enter adulthood?" There's no easy or single answer to the question, of course. Some families have a different dynamic behind closed doors than their public, church faces (hypocrisy or abuse), others assume that if the kid isn't balking at church stuff, that they're on board and growing spiritually (and maybe they're not). Some kids take the whole thing for granted, and their faith never really becomes their own. Other kids are compelled to explore the darkness for themselves - hearing their whole life long that there is a world full of darkness out there (forget the darkness in our own hearts) is not quite the same as experiencing it.

I ask this because I watch our own kids battling in varying degrees with what following Christ is going to look like in their lives. And because I work at a Christian college and see the same sad saga repeated in so many of the students' experiences.

For a crusty crank like Ray - and for a generation of kids who grew up in the church - the questions are the same. For these people who've been vaccinated with a good dose of religion and know a lot of information about Jesus and how to play American Evangelical Christianity - how can they encounter both who they really are and Who He really is?

Spiritual friends

I was struck by something in my Bible reading this morning. I'm just finishing Romans, and as Paul is coming in for a landing in his letter, we can see his emotions for his friends in Rome. Chapter 15 is a combination of his urging for them to be the people in Christ he knows they're capable of being, and a discussion about the nature of his ministry to the gentiles. There's a lot of good stuff in this chapter, but today, what I heard as I read was a man who was looking forward to the deep connection he had with these friends. Listen:

"...Since I have been longing for many years to see you, I plan to do so when I go to Spain. I hope to visit you while passing through and to have you assist me on my journey there, after I have enjoyed your company for a while... know that when I come to you, I will come in the full measure of the blessing of Christ...I urge you, brothers, by our Lord Jesus Christ and by the love of the Spirit, to join me in my struggle by praying to God for me. Pray that I may be rescued from the unbelievers in Judea and that my service in Jerusalem may be acceptable to the saints there, so that by God's will I may come to you with joy and together with you be refreshed."

Throughout the chapter, you can see Paul at work, describing his ministry, and focused like a laser on the tasks he needed to complete prior to his planned visit to Rome. But what I hear in these words (quoted above) are the emotions of a friend: "You guys, I miss you so much, and want to be with you. Please join with the intercession that Jesus is undertaking for me, because I KNOW love of the Holy Spirit blazing in your hearts. I can feel Him in you from here! Even though miles separate us, we are connected. Because we are, I'm asking you to fight for me in prayer because I'm facing real danger and worry about not being effective in ministry. And because we're connected, I am confident you will. If God wills it, my plan is to come to you. This will be cause for celebration - and hanging out with y'all will refresh you and me both."

Last night, I got a phone call from an old friend going through some rough stuff with a couple of her kids. She's in full-time vocational ministry, and she is a busy person pouring the gospel into the lives of people who don't know much about the God of the Bible. But during our call, both of us shared the kinds of emotions that Paul was expressing here. We didn't talk about the tasks we need to complete, or the ministry plans we're working on. We listened to one another's hearts - that messy, honest stuff that gets churned up when your heart is being broken - and we prayed. And I think we were both refreshed, even though today we're both now carrying a fresh burden in prayer for one another's current life situation.

This is different than "we work together", "our kids play soccer together", or "we serve at church together" kinds of friendship. Those kinds of relationships have value, of course. But they do not serve as the kind of "filling station" deep friendship that most accurately reflects the kind of friendship that God has with us: "My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you." - John 15:12-15

I'd love to hear your thoughts - What human friendship do you have that serves as a "filling station", pouring His life into you? Why?

{Seeds and Brackets}

There are people all over the country sitting in sports bars and La-Z-Boys watching teams like Davidson College and Gonzaga. They're clutching xeroxed copies of their brackets, hoping they win their office pools.

Most of these people don't follow college basketball at all throughout the regular season. (Come on, you brackets people - how many of you can tell me what conference Davidson College is in?)

I had to fill out a brackets sheet at work this week. (I'm back working part-time in the bookstore at Trinity International University, whose basketball team is NOT in the NCAA tournament.) A couple of the guys seem to know something about this whole brackets thing, and the rest of us just filled the sheets out to humor them. Since it's a Christian university, there's no office pool. The winner of the brackets gets to run around the bookstore gloating.

I picked So Cal to win the tournament. I totally picked them only because So Cal is a cool place. I don't know a single blooming thing about their team. I was told (after I filled out my brackets) that the team has the same chance of winning as say...Davidson. Then they put a picture of a person wearing a USC Spartans raincoat and umbrella on my computer, and taped a picture of my face on it.

I think they were laughing at me.

I say, "Go So Cal!"

Go around to the back

Matt asked me a great question in his comment to my “Vegetables of the Spirit” post below. He queried, “As a "front door" person, go ahead and take your time getting to know your way around and then jump into serving and community. As a "back door" person, the expectations for gift use and leadership increase pretty dramatically. There is a payoff and cost either way, isn't there? That being said, what are your thoughts about bridging the gap between the two experiences?”

It’s a question that’ll become increasingly relevant in his own new ministry – and it is a question my husband and I have had to wrestle from both sides of the welcome mat. On the “inside”, as church staff/leaders in WI and as people who’ve interviewed for staff positions at other churches - and, in the last 3 years, as “front door guests” at a number of churches as church visitors.

Here are some thoughts how churches can bridge the gap between their front doors (guest doors) and their back doors (staff doors).

First, a couple of disclaimers:
(1) Not all churches have front doors and back doors. Home churches, simple churches, church plants and small churches either don’t have two doors, or the doors are positioned so close to one another that you barely tell them apart.
(2) Not everyone needs to come in the back door of a church. Many people choose to simply attend a service and leave, without interacting much with the community life of the church. They may be investigating Christianity and want to sample church life. Or they may be investigating the church and prefer to get to know the church through the church’s formal channels. Or they’re busy in other areas of their lives, and don’t have a need or desire to connect with the church community more deeply. Or they’ve been hurt by the church, and the fact that they’re even at a service is all they can do – and that even showing up in a church has come at a very high price in their lives. In any case, the front door practices of the church (greetings, newcomer packets/gifts/visits/brunches/classes) are designed to welcome these people in.

In fact, the reason these practices are used is because they work. People need to get to know a church, and the church needs to get to know them before the people can be given responsibility. Paul offers some principles to his young mentoree, Timothy, that shape our thoughts on this (not many should teach, and new believers should not be given leadership responsibility).

In practical terms, many churches have a policy that people can not become ministry leaders until they’ve been at the church for a specific amount of time or completed various classes and seminars. Some churches have been left holding the bag when a person is given a responsibility and then the person decides the church isn’t where the he or she belongs after all.

Paid staff go under the microscope, as they should. They’re being given a position of trust and honor in a congregation, and those who are leading the congregation (and those who will be working alongside a potential staffer) need to make sure that gifts, personality and experience are a good fit. People’s tithes/gifts are being used to pay staff salaries.

But when God sends a mature, experienced leader to a church, there ought to be a pathway to service in the church that takes into account that person’s experience. I am thinking of a man my husband and I know who had been a pastor for nearly 30 years. Though some difficult church politics, the man was ousted from his position and showed up at our old church in WI to rest for a season. He soon discovered that the gifts and calling of God in his life were still at work in his life, and almost in spite of himself, he began ministering to those around him. The elders and staff wrestled with what to do about using him in the church’s ministry because he hadn’t gone through our “pathway”. He was limited to ushering, the cleaning or parking crew, helping out in children’s ministry. We had clearly defined pathways to leadership and responsibility in place, and no idea what to do with this kind, gifted ex-pastor who oozed pastoral gifting desperately needed in the church. “If we break the rules for him, then anyone can be in charge of anything,” some said.

Perhaps the rules were artificially stringent. A different discussion about insecurity about one’s position and how the rules were used to keep people out of the inner sanctum might fit here. To the man’s credit and maturity, he served faithfully in the little things and found other ministry outlets (preaching and pastoring at a nursing home) to use his gifts. But several people in the congregation asked questions about why this man was kept at arm’s length for such a long time.
I believe that just as a clearly defined “front door” pathway must exist and be exercised with supernatural hospitality in a church, so must a well-lit, paved pathway to the back door be made clear. If God sends a leader to a church, wouldn’t it be worth cultivating that leader using some of the same methods used to hire a staff member? (Is it a waste of time taking someone through a rigorous interview/courtship process when no paycheck is involved?)

Am I asking this because I think I deserve a position of responsibility in a church? Am I asking this because I don’t have a servant’s heart? Is this just a lack of humility – I am looking for a fast track to a position since I might be back on the “church search” trail again (we’ve been attending a small church for a few months, but its future is very, very questionable at this point), and already know what it means to walk in the front door? Once we find a church, more months of doing nothing – which is a direct contrast to those who come into a church because they’ve been invited to join the church staff. Am I weary because I know that community and meaningful service exists for those who get to use the back door and I am aching to be a part of a team where my gifts and experience fit and matter?

I’ve had a lot of time in recent years to discover that each of these motivations exist in me. God has done a big work in me – and has used the wait to purge and purify me. And if He asks me to keep on waiting, I will. And I will serve Him as I have been, everywhere I can, in the wait – because that’s what He’s asked of me.

P.S. - The chapter "Unbiased Discrimination" in my book Parablelife talks about what it is like to be in the busy-busy inner circle in a church and yet live without true community. Being in the Pluto orbit of the inner circle has some missional ministry advantages, for sure. But what I'm advocating in this post is that some of the artificial ways of org-charting people in the church need to be reevaluated.

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The Vegetables of the Spirit

Christianity Today's Out of Ur blog recently posted part of an interview they did with Phil Vischer, the guy responsible for Larry and Bob, those CGI vegetables that became an empire. Phil talks about the way that our bigger-is-better American thinking has shaped the way do ministry in this country - and what being a poster boy for this "false gospel of impact" did to his soul.

Of course, his book got published because he's got a name and a platform. People in the evangelical world know about Veggie Tales, and may know something about the rise and fall of Phil's Big Idea company. But it isn't the autobiography of a business flameout that makes his words a prophetic warning for our evangelical subculture. It is in his insider's view of the spiritual sterilization that occurs when our cultural values are bred with the gospel.

Ironically, the man who brought us talking vegetables was brought to repentance by the Bible's discussion of fruit. He said, "...one day I was reading my Bible and I came across the verse that lists the fruit of the Spirit. It occurred to me that none of those things were present in my life. It didn’t say the fruit of the Spirit is impact, large numbers, or selling lots of videos. I realized something was not right."

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I have been thinking recently about what a radically different experience it is entering a church through the front doors (as an unknown visitor) than it is coming in through the back door (an invited member of the staff).

You get to participate in community if you come in through the back door. You get a form to fill out and a "getting to know you" class if you come in through the front door.

When your leap of faith leads you down a dark alley...

You believe you've heard from God. What you heard doesn't seem rational. You wrestle deeply in your soul, and cry out for God to speak, to show you the way. He reminds you that He already has spoken. The next move is yours.

You take a step, afraid (in a healthy way) of disobeying.

The way the script is supposed to go is: And it all works out. And God blesses. And all the nay-sayers, including the nays you told yourself, are silenced. You look like a winner.

What if it doesn't work out like the script?

What if it looks like failure? What then?

Today, I don't have any answers.

P.S. - I know what the answers are supposed to be. Right now, they reside in my head. But they're doing no good to me there.

As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?
My tears have been my food day and night, while men say to me all day long, "Where is your God?"
These things I remember as I pour out my soul: how I used to go with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God, with shouts of joy and thanksgiving among the festive throng.
Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. My soul is downcast within me; therefore I will remember you from the land of the Jordan, the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.
Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.
By day the LORD directs his love, at night his song is with me—a prayer to the God of my life.
I say to God my Rock, "Why have you forgotten me? Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy?"
My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me, saying to me all day long, "Where is your God?"
Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. - Ps. 42

Reese @ Aldi's, Michelle @ Eastview

This is not normal behavior.

People do not act like this in real life.

I have never seen anyone at Aldi's in a corture gown, shopping for $1.69 a box Millville cereal. Aldi's is real life.


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This is a picture of Eastview Christian Church in Normal, IL. Here's a cool God story about it:

So there's this magazine called Church Bookstore. They ask me if I would travel to Normal to write a profile of the church's bookstore. I say yes. I love a road trip, especially across miles of snow-covered farmland.

It's the church I attended while in college. It's the church (I think) at which I got baptized during high school, when I was on a weekend visit to a friend who attended the college in Normal. The magazine didn't know I had any history with the church. The church didn't know me from Eve. But God knew, and gave me the gift of a blast from the past, only the past is long gone at Eastview.

It was a little like slipping into a rabbit hole, and emerging in a different space and time. The church I remember during college was a pretty traditional small congregation of about 300. (Of course, I wasn't really paying attention to that kind of stuff back then, so maybe Eastview was a lot bigger...or smaller.) Now its a Willow Creek-style huge, sprawling complex that's sprouted in the middle of snow-covered farmland. Over 3,000 people attend this church today.

It was a fun trip, and the folks (yes, folks is the right word, there) at the church couldn't have been nicer.

We're asking for IT, but are we ready for IT?

"It" is revival.

And recently, Shawn Blanc, a blogger and staffer at IHOP-KC asked this question, giving a very human and humble response.

Hundreds of miles away, just a couple of weeks ago, so did Dan Edelen. This post is worth a visit because he talks intelligently about the "why" behind the "wow" of a visitation from God.

Catalyst here in Lake County, IL is dedicated to positioning and preparing the church in this region for revival.

In this month's Charisma magazine, there is a profile of Bethel Church in Redding, CA, talking about the culture of revival at this church.

The reason so many people in so many different places are asking about whether we're ready is a rhetorical discussion. We know we're not ready. We know that what passes for normal Christianity is often normal (and toxic) religion - and that this religious wineskin will shatter when revival is poured into it.

I love to study past revivals looking for clues about what it might be that will spark a revival. I celebrate the stories of persistent, passionate prayer...the Herrnhuts, the Haystacks, the Azusa Streets, Wales. I celebrate the preaching of repentance that causes people to rend their hearts a la Joel 2, like Edwards and Finney brought to the church.

But the question of the hour isn't what revival might look like here and now. This external focus shifts the orientation onto managing our circumstances or our behavior in order to make it happen.

It will happen. It will happen because God wants a pure Bride.

The urgent question of the hour is "What MUST we do to get ready?" Join me in asking the question of God in prayer... The story of the bridesmaids in Luke 25:1-13 holds our strategy. And every time we ask "What MUST we do to get ready?", it changes us.

Oh God, what MUST we do to get ready?

28 days - and in a leap year 29

Seven reasons why February seems like it's the longest month of the year

1. There are no mittens in the stores, but if you need a bathing suit or white pants, you're in business.

2. People giddily comment on how warm it is outside - and the temperature is a balmy 35 degrees.

3. Valentines Day candy is 75% off by February 16. We buy it. Then we eat it.

4. We have the urge to paint something yellow. We dream of yellow rooms, yellow t-shirts, yellow balloons, yellow snow shovels. There's not much sun in Chicago in February.

5. No mail on President's Day.

6. Take car through car wash. Do it again. Do it again. Do it again.

7. One word: Phlegm.

In a one mile radius

There is an intersection not far from our home. Within a one mile radius of this particular intersection, there are 4 church buidlings (2 conservative denominational outposts, 2 conservative non-demons). From what I can tell, these churches seem to mirror one another fairly closely when it comes to doctrinal belief and practice - and probably aren't too terribly distant from one another in their worship styles and preferences.

Why are there four congregations? Should there be? And what would life be like for the average member, for the ministries of the various congregational leaders, and for the reputation of Christ in the community if some of them were to merge? The answers aren't as simple as it would seem. Any thoughts, O readers?

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For some weird reason, I have written a lot about paper products this week. I can't quite figure out why. Besides my previous post, I also sent an e-newsletter out this week that discussed paper towels and offered book give-away using the paper towel theme.

I can't explain this odd turn of events. The only paper product that is noticably absent from this week's posts is toilet paper.

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Some of us Van Loons have been handed microphones in order to tell people stuff. The jury is still out on whether this has been a good idea. I used to do announcements at our church in WI. Though many people remember the one that featured me hauling a couple of huge, bloody raw steaks out of a cooler to illustrate what people might consider bringing to the picnic, I like to think that my announcement-giving career had a lot of other highlights. And I have some warm (?) memories of watching our son Ben doing punk-style announcements when he was in the Master's Commission program at Souled Out Ministries. He had a mohawk, and his odd sense of humor and aggressive rebel yell of "next slide!" in order to cue the powerpoint people made for a memorable delivery. People may not have remembered what he said, but they sure remembered that he'd said it.

Check out this blog to see the logical conclusion of a career in announcement giving. Brilliant!

When a Kleenex isn't a Kleenex

Among the other stuff that piles into my e-mail "in box" each week is a newsletter from a website called Monday Morning Insight. Even though its aimed at evangelical pastors and church leaders, I subscribe to MMI because...

(a) I'm currently writing a book about the church ("The Church For Skeptics", to be published by FaithWalk Publishing later this year)
(b) I'm perpetually curious about what makes churches tick - or self-destruct
(c) My husband and I have been in church leadership in the past, and somehow, reading the various columns and news stories makes me feel like the sometimes crazy, always life-altering church experiences we've had are not just our lot in life.

The dudes who run the MMI site support the corporate, programmed side of the evangelical world, and feature lots of info. about various leadership conferences and trends. But every once in a while, one of their columnists will focus on something that reminds us how very mustard-seed-like the kingdom truly is.

This guy named Greg Atkinson wrote a little piece about the new Kleenex "Let It Out" ad campaign. The ads feature two people sitting on an Ikea-ugly couch in the middle of a city. One person sits and listens while the other person talks about something that touches them deeply. The speaker is ambushed by their emotions toward the end of the commercial, and reach for a Kleenex brand snotrag.

Though we from the church often ask questions ("Where will you spend eternity?"), Atkinson notes thtat these commercials are a visceral reminder of the incarnational calling of the church in the world. He wonders if maybe we church people are asking the wrong kinds of questions sometimes - and listening poorly to the people who most need to simply let it out at other times. Somehow, the man on the ugly couch with his box of Kleenex made it safe for people to tell their stories.

Atkinson asks, "I believe God works through local bodies of believers, but wouldn’t it be amazing, powerful and revolutionary for the Church to leave its four walls, set out a couch on the street and just listen to people’s stories as they pass by?"

A congregation can't do this. (Just imagine several hundred people trying to squish onto that ugly couch!)

But I can.

You can, too.

Al Gore, phone home

Dear Al,

The inconvenient truth is that it was nine degrees below zero this morning here in Chicago. I know you're very upset about global warming so I'd like to make you an offer you can't refuse:
You send us some global warming, and we'll send you some deep dish pizza. We'll throw in a passel of votes from dead people and prisoners, just to sweeten the pot.

Your friend, Michelle

Partying with Jesus

Today at our church, we did something wonderfully unexpected that'll stay with me a long time.

We shared communion. And it was a party!

At this church, the opportunity to participate in communion happens smack dab in the middle of the worship service each week. In order to mix things up, the actual observance of communion cycles between passing the plate with the thimbleful of Biblical Welch's Grape Juice/fragments of matzo and inviting people to come to a table set with a little bowlful of aforementioned juice and a plateful of matzo pieces.

But today, the congregation was invited to a very different kind of communion celebration. At the close of the service, while the pastor was praying, someone uncovered two long tables covered with all varieties of bread: matzo, dense french bread, sweet breads, dark breads...and grapes...and chocolate! There was a table set with bottles of sparkling grape juices as well.

The ritual solemnity with which we Christians usually participate in communion was absent this morning. In my head, I've known these verses for a long time:

At His final Passover Seder on earth, Jesus said: "After taking the cup, he gave thanks and said, "Take this and divide it among you. For I tell you I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes." - Luke 22:17-18

Fast forward to the end of the story, where the angels proclaim: "Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready." - Rev. 19:7

And in my head, I've known that communion is SO MUCH MORE than a Barbie-sized religious snack. (Even wrote a little piece about this very subject for Group magazine a couple of years ago.) A lot of the meditations out there to help people engage with communion tend to target our cognitive response to God. "Oh yeah," we say. "I must now remember that this little cracker fragment and sip of room-temperature juice is meant to help me remember that I'm supposed to remember...uh...Jesus died on the cross for me."

This morning, people of all ages were taking handfuls of chocolate and grapes, sampling breads, pouring sparkling juice into clear glasses. This morning's celebration, communion with a group of a group of happy, surprised people smiling, laughing and actually eating and drinking together was an experience that burned itself onto my heart.

This'll be an experience that I "bring to active remembrance" when I participate with Jesus as I share communion with Him and others in the future.

Celebrating! Tasting grace! It made me soul-hungry for the real thing - the party in heaven.

But you know what? I think Jesus enjoyed the party at the church this morning.

The Biggest Loser

Last night's American Idol featured the abysmal auditions of wanna-be pop stars who were missing something - looks, talent, confidence, a decent wardrobe. The show's producers are counting on our need to feel better about ourselves at someone else's expense with these Auditions From Purgatory shows. Last night's show could have been called "Ain't Too Proud To Beg". There were a number of people that pled their case for stardom with the same kind of urgency you'd see from someone begging not to be sent to the electric chair for their unpaid parking tickets.

"Man, I'm glad I'm not like those losers," we smirk. "Don't they know they stink?"

Well, some of them do, but a lot of them have had their friends and family tell them they're awesome and amazing and a way, way, way better singer than [fill in the blank with the name of your favorite season 1-5 American Idol]. And then Simon pulls out his Uzi and guns them down. Some would say it's a mercy killing...and maybe it is.

But I wonder what's happened to some of those failures. No, not the extreme cases the producers cherry-pick for our public consumption. But the rest of those thousands of people who showed up at the nationwide cattle calls and were sent home by some assistant to the associate junior producer after singing 4 bars of a song they'd been rehearsing for weeks. The whole thing goes on their failure resume.

Then there was this one guy auditioning last night who got to the Hollywood round of the competition last year and then bailed right there on stage. Couldn't hack the pressure. And everywhere he went, he had people asking him, "Hey aren't you the one that quit?" The Failure Factor had come to define his life. It had become his identity.

Today, blogger king Dan Edelen writes about how desperately we Christians need a gospel of failure. Man, do I agree with him! I hope to be exploring this topic in blog posts to come.

But for today, I just want to make an observation. In Uprooted, I tell the story of these two women I once worked with who NEVER HAD ANY PROBLEMS. This wouldn't have been much of a problem if we'd been employed at McDonalds (in fact, it probably would have made working together quite pleasant) - but we worked at a church. Though church is supposed to be a place for people with problems, we all know that it freqently is a place we find ourselves auditioning for our own version of Spiritual American Idol.

Again and again, I heard from the people-with-problems who attended the church - "Those women make me feel like I'm a loser." The irony is that the women were perfect examples of what we frequently tell each other the abundant, victorious Christian life is supposed to look like. And as a result, the women served as a kind of defacto Randy, Paula and Simon judgment panel for the church, since they had perfected their own performances so well.

Man, we need some new paradigms.

The Full Moon restaurant

I met a friend this morning at one of the truly fine dining establishments in the Chicago area - the Full Moon restaurant, conveniently located on a desolate stretch of Hwy. 41 between the sprawl of Abbott Labs and Great Lakes Naval Training Center. They feature a concoction I've never seen on a menu anywhere else - the Carbetsi omelet. I think "Carbetsi" is a Greek word for "wipe everything on the greasy counter into the pan".

Besides the Carbetsi, this dining establishment had something I haven't seen for years: a cigarette vending machine. Maybe I don't hang out in enough divey places. I dunno. Seeing that machine jammed into a corner near the washrooms was like a 3-D flashback to a time when cigarette machines were everywhere. My dad, a 2 pack-a-day Parliament man, sometimes bought his smokes from a vending machine. And when I was first toying with adult behaviors as a 13 year-old, the tired Holiday Inn on the other side of the fence just behind my house had a vending machine. I could walk over there and buy (really stale) Marlboros any time I wanted.

The world quietly moved on from the days when gas stations, bowling alleys and restaurants way nicer than The Full Moon had tobacco vend-o-matics. And though Jesus spared me the anguish of a lifelong nicotine addiction, seeing that vending machine today was like a flashback to the ordinary moments of my childhood: my dad sitting at the table, telling stories about his day's adventures in insurance adjusting. He'd flick his lighter open like he had about a bazillion times in his life, putting blue flame to the end of a cig. While he talked, my mom would be pulling the electric broom out of the closet so she could vacuum the avocado carpeting in our kitchen. (Yes, we had carpeting in our kitchen. Eeew.) My sister was usually parked in the den, watching "Speed Racer".

Just like that - launched into the past by a Carbetsi and a cigarette time machine.