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5 Things I've loved about the Emerging Church movement...

With everyone writing obituaries and whatnot for the emerging church movement, and with myself coming across more and more as a critic, I feel a personal push towards taking a time-out to recollect some positives and praise for a movement, that while mixed, and in many ways losing momentum and splintering, has been significant for me in my journey. 

1. My initial intro to the emerging church movement came in a seminar with (yes, believe it or not) Doug Pagitt and Mark Driscoll together. On a personal level, at a low point in my life and faith, feeling burnt out and burned, they talked about a postmodern (hey! Remember that word??) approach to faith that was more about Jesus than institution, and more about life in the way of Jesus that made a difference in the world and less about a focus on getting people over the goal-line of decision and their rears into heaven. All of that resonated with me deeply. Brian McLaren's books The Church on the Other Side and More Ready Than You Realize, Len Sweet's Postmodern Pilgrims, an Origins conference with Erwin McManus (and many of his books)... all of these kept my vision and heart for faith and church together even while I worked out on a personal level some things I needed to get sorted that threatened to shipwreck me. And even though now I find myself more often than not pushing back against BOTH Driscoll and Pagitt from my tiny speck of middle ground, I'm eternally grateful that at just the right time, God allowed our paths to cross. 

2. On a theological level, whether they were ever really connected with the emerging church or not, people like Todd Hunter and Dallas Willard, Rob Bell and Ruth Haley Barton all became introduced to me through the EC. And they have all had profound impacts on my thinking about God and faith. Todd Hunter gave me an expanded view of the Gospel and the Kingdom that continues to shape me today- and he did it at various Emerging Churchy type things like the Emergent Convention (remember those??) and Off the Map. Rob Bell, while cool and all, and inability to boil down the Gospel to 140 characters aside (I kid, I kid), proved to be a game-changer for me, mainly by introducing me to William Webb and the redemptive hermeneutic, something that has been massively forming for me. His simple explanation of Webb's take on the redemptive arc in Scripture set in motion for me a internal movement that led me to a completely different view of women in leadership and has shaped Evergreen for the better.

3. On a pastoral/church level, the emerging church conversation broadened my ecclesiastical horizons and helped me to see God at work in all kinds of expressions of Church. But even more so, it gave me the freedom to think outside the boundary lines I had previously limited myself to in terms of what Church could and should be. It introduced me to ideas of a more organic approach, helped shape my thinking on flattened leadership structures and, in a sense, gave me "permission" to try something as crazy as church in a pub.

4. On a missional level, it's largely been through the emerging church that I've been turned on to voices in the missional stream of thinking, like Michael Frost and Alan Hirsch, voices which continue to shape my way of thinking and orientation in the world and which continue to challenge, stretch and even confound and frustrate me- all good things and sorely needed. 

5. Finally, I credit the emerging church movement/impulse with a renewed emphasis in my own heart, in my city, and in the American church in general towards justice and the poor. If you think the emerging church has just been all talk, and no practical good in the world, you haven't had your eyes open for the last ten years. The amount of influence the emerging church has wielded in terms of getting the sleeping giant of the American church off its rear and into the game in terms of helping the poor both locally and globally has been WAY out of proportion to its size and influence in other areas (though it has had influence in other areas). While the biggest churches in America ten years ago were hosting conferences on how to grow your church even bigger, today they host conferences about, push people towards and resource (for example) the fight against AIDS in Africa, clean water around the world and more. Ten years ago much of evangelicalism in the West had its head in the sand in regards to global poverty and today the landscape looks very different. And while a concern for justice and the poor didn't originate with the emerging church, I think a renewed consciousness about and concern for the poor among  can largely be credited to the "prophetic" emerging voices of people like Shane Claiborne and feeling the pressure of all these small emerging communities (some of which have grown into big, city-impacting churches like Imago Dei) that were getting it done in ways that their more-established and better-resourced churches weren't. 

All in all, I'm grateful for the impact of the Emerging Church on my life- while I feel like we've grown apart in some ways (I just need to see other movements... really, it's not you, it's me. Okay, it is kind of you), and while I feel like there's some significant tares in amongst all the wheat there, for today, I'm choosing to see and be thankful for the good. 

Who we are becoming... accidentally

I heard someone say today "Pastors often lose sight of who they are."

I think to some extent that may be true- especially for those of us who tend towards the co-dependant. Being driven more by who we feel others want us to be. 

But I think it might be more precise to say we often become people we didn't intend to be. And we do so by living reactively- taking each day as it comes, dealing with the facts (and fires) on the ground, avoiding the 50,000 foot view altogether. 

And the 50,000 ft view is a picture of who we want to be down the road. 

This week I was reading Letters To A Skeptic by Greg Boyd. In it, he talks about a woman he knows who had been a bright, vibrant and happy person early in her life. All that changed when her sister ran off with her fiance. Or maybe I should say, all that began to change with how she reacted to that event, and how she chose to continue to react- nurturing bitterness and unforgiveness- until at the end of her life she was regarded as a difficult, bitter and angry old woman. 

As I thought about that story and overlaid my own life on top of it, I realized a piece of something I had let creep in to my emotions and come out in certain actions just wasn't congruent with the person of peace I hoped to be in old age. That realization alone was enough to get me off my chair and into making a concrete change.

In other words, I realize it's not just that we make choices- it's that our choices are very literally making us. And unless those choices are guided by a picture, a blueprint of who we want to be, we'll end up becoming someone purely by accident- shaped more by our circumstances and reactions to those circumstances than by any values or vision we might have. 

So here's the question: Who do you want to be? And what are you doing to become that? What are you doing that is at odds with that, that is taking you in another direction. 

And more importantly, what are you going to do about it? 

From Ennui to Epic...

I was sitting with a new church planter yesterday, talking. He asked, "So how have you avoided burn out?" And my first thought, honestly?

I haven't. 

It's not so much burnout maybe as... rust. Ennui. 

As I thought and as we talked I came to think that what I'm feeling is something of the natural extension of the "church planters" personality- that entrepreneurial make-up that pushes us to new things, keeps us from settling in and being satisfied with the status quo... and maybe causes certain people to blow up their lives every so often. 

I've been feeling a desire to be challenged, to be not so much pushed, but pulled purposefully into something deeper, more difficult, more...

Don't worry- I'm not going anywhere. 

But I do think this next stage of my life is going to involve going deeper into mentoring others, building skills in listening and coaching which will express itself in writing and speaking more.

So- first things- blog more. This blog is like a withering plant- dry, dusty, in desperate need of revival. And that's just a symptom really of where my state of creativity is. Writing is a skill that gets easier the more you do. A writer writes... always™! 

Second- finish my book proposal for the video venue/internet church thing. I think the time is right for a critical look- Lord knows there's a new "pro" book every week... 

Third, in my pastoral work, I need to get more focused. I feel as though an effort to bring others along and hand off certain things has left me feeling a blurry and rootless as to my role. So, time to take a slice of the pie of our community and go deeper while continuing to try to bring new and existing leadership along. As it is now, I feel like an effort to step back and let others step forward has resulted in few people feeling pastored by me. It shouldn't be an either/or.

Fourth, my New Year's resolution to "kick ass" needs some, uh... resuscitation. Physically, mentally, spiritually... Ruts suck. Just say no. 

But I will say this- I'm well on my way to an epic beard!

Rescue Mission

For the past few months I've been taking the family down to the Rescue Mission on the 3rd Friday to serve. For awhile, I wondered if this was really worth it- it was far from the Mission scene in Dr. Horrible- you know, kindly indigents quietly eating their soup with thankful, beatific looks on their faces. This was more like a bunch of people who knew how to work the system (many were coming from one meal a few blocks over and many more were preparing to go just a block down for yet another meal after- with it possible to get free breakfast, lunch and dinner every day of the week now in PDX, no one needs to go hungry here).

But, slowly, I've come to appreciate, and even look forward to being there. 

I think it's impacting me in a very good way. 

1st, there's the compassion thing. I recognize that there ARE a lot of folks on the street who for one reason or another choose to be there. Yeah- it's a hard life, but being a "normal" to them is probably harder, so this is what they prefer. But in spite of those folks, every time I'm there, my heart is captured by someone's face, someone's story- someone who clearly would rather be elsewhere- who's either been beaten down by life, is suffering mental illness, or has just gotten old and finds that it's a hard life to make your way in. I love those folks, and more and more as I'm around them I am learning what it means to just sit and talk, listen, pray for and with them. 

2nd, there's the family thing. They LOVE our kids. We bring all three, with Jack and Jane serving on the line in aprons and Josie usually riding on my back in the pack. They smile to see a baby, have a small child serve them. And, our kids love going- they are learning to serve. They are learning that not everyone lives the kind of life we do. 

I think a lot of people come down to the Mission and see the line of guests come through, realize they will be served and eat whether we come and volunteer or not and so wonder if it's really worth it. 

It is.

It's worth it to them to be served by someone who cares, who smiles, who offers them kindness when what they normally get on the street is contempt, who will pray for them, look them in the eye and treat them like a person...

And it's worth it to us- but not immediately. I think the "magic" of serving in a place like the Rescue Mission is what happens over months and maybe years of regularly showing up- learning names, hearing stories, offering kindness and prayer- having your views change and your heart moved. That won't necessarily happen the first time you come or even the 4th or 5th time... but like our friends in the recovery community say- "Keep coming back- It works if you work it." 

And it does work...

Closure

I want to thank everyone who's prayed for me over the last few days. What could have been a hard and "low" period for me has ended up actually being a good time of closure and of thankfulness for my life.

I flew down to San Diego yesterday to bury my father. He died and was buried just how he lived, how he liked it- alone. 

I wish I could say my dad and I had a complicated history, but we don't. Far from it- it's pretty simple, actually. He was never really interested in being a dad, so he wasn't. End of story. 

I used to expend a lot of energy wishing it was different- but over the years learned to make peace with his total absence. Yes, there would be the occasional flare-ups, like when I flew the family down to San Diego last year because I wanted him to meet his grandchildren at least once in his life- and he didn't show up. 

But all in all, I've gotten to a place where being a dad has superseded having a dad in my emotional hierarchy- and yesterday was a good time of cementing that and saying good bye. 

I flew down early in the morning, got a rental car and after driving by the house I grew up in, drove to my aunt and uncle's. I bundled them in the car and we headed to the funeral home. 

This is the same place where I said goodbye to the grandparents who raised me- the same funeral home, the same chapel room, the same wooden stand their coffins sat on. 

The difference was, there were people there for both my grandfather and grandmother's funerals. Not so with this one. 

 No friends. No neighbors. No acquaintances... no family other than myself and his sister and brother-in-law who'd done the hard job of taking care of him for almost a decade now. 

Depressing, but not surprising. He cultivated no friendships, didn't seem to have spoken to his neighbors at all- he lived only for himself- his next meal, his next TV show, whatever...

So in the end, he got what he wanted. 

To be alone. 

After my aunt and uncle paid their respects, I sat with him for awhile, silently saying some things. Mostly just letting go. 

I realized as I looked at him in that box that I wasn't angry, I wasn't bitter... I wasn't even sad. 

I forgave him. I forgave him and prayed that God would too- that He would have mercy on my dad, even then knowing that my dad wouldn't want or take it if it was offered. That even in the end, he would choose what he always chose- himself. To be alone. 

But it was good closure- sitting there I realized my heart was light- not happy, but simply unburdened. Closure. 

We drove to the cemetery and re-enacted what we'd just done at the funeral home. The three of us sitting there, saying a few things about my dad- but what is there really to say? 

"Better to spend your time at funerals than at parties.

After all, everyone dies— so the living should take this to heart."

I was exhausted  coming home and decided to upgrade out of cattle class to 1st class for the ride home. First time I'd ever done that... but very glad and thankful to have dinner, some space to stretch out and even this: 

When I got home, Jack and Jane ran and grabbed me shouting "Daddy, Daddy! We missed you!" 

Ahh... to be missed. 

My dad won't be. 

I hope to keep living and fathering so I will be.

From the Archives: Limitations

You'll notice the blog has been a bit more... sporadic... lately. 

I'm trying to get back into the swing of things, but I want to remember what I wrote just a few months ago: 

Limitations

I've been thinking through the issue of why I haven't been blogging as much... that's probably a nice way to put it, yeah? Truthfully, these last three months have found my blog laying by the side of the road like a wounded lemur. Will no one stop to help?

Anyway...

I've been (somewhat) enjoying the break, feeling a strange freedom from expression. It's not that I haven't had thoughts these last few months- I just haven't shared many with you. Naughty, I know. But maybe necessary. 

Maybe a break has been just what I needed, and more than the few weeks' hiatus that generally occurs around December. Maybe what I've needed was to reengage with why I do this blog, why I run PastorHacks.com.

Reading Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership has been good for me. Ruth Haley Barton is the real deal, and her wisdom for those trying to engage the difficult life of leadership as well as the disciplines which do (or rather, must) undergird it are invaluable. 

Here's what she said that stopped me in my tracks and convinced me I needed to do more of a reevaluation than simply taking a breather when it came to blogging and websites and the like:

"There is something deeply spiritual about honoring the limitations of our lives and the boundaries of what God has given us to do as leaders. Narcissistic leaders are always looking beyond their sphere of influence with visions of grandiosity far out of proportion to what is actually being given. Living within our limits means living within the finiteness of who we are as individuals and as a community- the limits of time and space, the limits of our physical, emotional, relational and spiritual capacities, the limits of our stage of life... and the limits of the calling God has given. It means doing this and not that. It means doing this much and not more."

As I read this, I felt the subtle shift inside from "dream big" to "dream deep." There's a time to go all Jabez and try to extend the circle of influence of our lives as widely as possible. And there's a time to recognize that eventually, that becomes counter productive to getting beyond the merely surface level in any area. To truly master something, you have to give yourself to it. You have to say no to a lot of things to say yes to one or two. 

Right now, my priorities are serving/worshiping/glorifying God through my family, my church and becoming the person I feel like God has me on track to become. My confession is that those priorities don't always work themselves out in that order and that I continually feel the tug of mission creep. Invitations which appeal to one's ego are difficult to turn down. 

The psychic weight of blogging and maintaining readership is honestly something I could live without. It feels at times like simply another obligation. 

While I love hearing from people I meet that something I wrote has helped them or contributed to their church planting/pastoral/personal journey, I recognize that I love it both in a healthy and unhealthy way. 

At my worst moments, I recognize that this whole thing of blogs and stats, of links and hat tips is an ego booster that needs to be kept in check. Scratch that. "In check" doesn't get it. "Killed" or more precisely "crucified" would be the right way to say it. To the extent I allow my identity to be based on being known and appreciated for writing or a blog, I'm actually feeding a cancer on my soul that, uncrucified will leave me a self-centered husk who cares more about stats than anything else.

Something I care about will get crucified. And it's either going to be my ego or more important things (like family, church, etc). Worst case scenario thinking, I know. But I'm pretty good at looking down the road and playing out consequences, and I'll just have to ask you to trust me on this one. 

So, is this my "Dear Bob.Blog Readers" letter of dropping out of the blog world? 

No. 

But it is an admission that my family is more important than you, my church is more important than you, and my personal mental/spiritual/emotional health is more important. For me, right now, I have to stop thinking as broadly as I have, I have to stop trying to "influence the conversation." 

"When we refuse to live within our limits (one of my deepest temptations), we wear out ourselves and those who lead with us. We compromise the quality of our relationships with God and the people around us. We compromise our effectiveness at doing the things we have been called to do. To live within our limits is to live humbly as the creature, not the Creator. Only God is infinite; the rest of us need to be very clear about what we are about in any given moment and say no to everything else."

I think it's a particular pastoral temptation to be dissatisfied with the ministry and situation God has given me- to dream constantly of bigger and better, of more influence and respect, to lose sight of what's now because we focus so much on what's next.

It's a given that I'm a husband and father and need to constantly renew my commitment to placing them first. I'm also a pastor. God has given me a church. These are my people. And in ten years I want to be known, not for having written a bunch of stuff that not many people remember, but for having given myself to the care, feeding and encouragement of my family and a group of people called Evergreen. I need to stop mourning the fact that my family and pastoral duties preclude me from writing that book or the killer blog post that will set the internets on fire. The work God has given me for this period of my life is enough to challenge me, to sustain me and for me to enjoy setting my hands to.

And enough to form me, I think... to get me where I want to be after 10-15 years- The wise, older man (who may or may not have a grey, balding ponytail- TBD) who can speak into the lives of pastors and mentor leaders and serve the church through serving those who lead. 

I guess I'm realizing that for all intents and purposes, I've just been trying to jump that gun a bit. 

So I will continue to blog and express myself, but won't obsess over it. I hope what I post will be meaningful first for Evergreeners and where they are at, second for those in ministry or heading that way, and third for those who for one reason or another are interested in what I have to say.  

And maybe I'll check the stats a little less too.

I've been thinking through the issue of why I haven't been blogging as much... that's probably a nice way to put it, yeah? Truthfully, these last three months have found my blog laying by the side of the road like a wounded lemur. Will no one stop to help?

Anyway...

I've been (somewhat) enjoying the break, feeling a strange freedom from expression. It's not that I haven't had thoughts these last few months- I just haven't shared many with you. Naughty, I know. But maybe necessary. 

Maybe a break has been just what I needed, and more than the few weeks' hiatus that generally occurs around December. Maybe what I've needed was to reengage with why I do this blog, why I run PastorHacks.com.

Reading Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership has been good for me. Ruth Haley Barton is the real deal, and her wisdom for those trying to engage the difficult life of leadership as well as the disciplines which do (or rather, must) undergird it are invaluable. 

Here's what she said that stopped me in my tracks and convinced me I needed to do more of a reevaluation than simply taking a breather when it came to blogging and websites and the like:

"There is something deeply spiritual about honoring the limitations of our lives and the boundaries of what God has given us to do as leaders. Narcissistic leaders are always looking beyond their sphere of influence with visions of grandiosity far out of proportion to what is actually being given. Living within our limits means living within the finiteness of who we are as individuals and as a community- the limits of time and space, the limits of our physical, emotional, relational and spiritual capacities, the limits of our stage of life... and the limits of the calling God has given. It means doing this and not that. It means doing this much and not more."

As I read this, I felt the subtle shift inside from "dream big" to "dream deep." There's a time to go all Jabez and try to extend the circle of influence of our lives as widely as possible. And there's a time to recognize that eventually, that becomes counter productive to getting beyond the merely surface level in any area. To truly master something, you have to give yourself to it. You have to say no to a lot of things to say yes to one or two. 

Right now, my priorities are serving/worshiping/glorifying God through my family, my church and becoming the person I feel like God has me on track to become. My confession is that those priorities don't always work themselves out in that order and that I continually feel the tug of mission creep. Invitations which appeal to one's ego are difficult to turn down. 

The psychic weight of blogging and maintaining readership is honestly something I could live without. It feels at times like simply another obligation. 

While I love hearing from people I meet that something I wrote has helped them or contributed to their church planting/pastoral/personal journey, I recognize that I love it both in a healthy and unhealthy way. 

At my worst moments, I recognize that this whole thing of blogs and stats, of links and hat tips is an ego booster that needs to be kept in check. Scratch that. "In check" doesn't get it. "Killed" or more precisely "crucified" would be the right way to say it. To the extent I allow my identity to be based on being known and appreciated for writing or a blog, I'm actually feeding a cancer on my soul that, uncrucified will leave me a self-centered husk who cares more about stats than anything else.

Something I care about will get crucified. And it's either going to be my ego or more important things (like family, church, etc). Worst case scenario thinking, I know. But I'm pretty good at looking down the road and playing out consequences, and I'll just have to ask you to trust me on this one. 

So, is this my "Dear Bob.Blog Readers" letter of dropping out of the blog world? 

No. 

But it is an admission that my family is more important than you, my church is more important than you, and my personal mental/spiritual/emotional health is more important. For me, right now, I have to stop thinking as broadly as I have, I have to stop trying to "influence the conversation." 

"When we refuse to live within our limits (one of my deepest temptations), we wear out ourselves and those who lead with us. We compromise the quality of our relationships with God and the people around us. We compromise our effectiveness at doing the things we have been called to do. To live within our limits is to live humbly as the creature, not the Creator. Only God is infinite; the rest of us need to be very clear about what we are about in any given moment and say no to everything else."

I think it's a particular pastoral temptation to be dissatisfied with the ministry and situation God has given me- to dream constantly of bigger and better, of more influence and respect, to lose sight of what's now because we focus so much on what's next.

It's a given that I'm a husband and father and need to constantly renew my commitment to placing them first. I'm also a pastor. God has given me a church. These are my people. And in ten years I want to be known, not for having written a bunch of stuff that not many people remember, but for having given myself to the care, feeding and encouragement of my family and a group of people called Evergreen. I need to stop mourning the fact that my family and pastoral duties preclude me from writing that book or the killer blog post that will set the internets on fire. The work God has given me for this period of my life is enough to challenge me, to sustain me and for me to enjoy setting my hands to.

And enough to form me, I think... to get me where I want to be after 10-15 years- The wise, older man (who may or may not have a grey, balding ponytail- TBD) who can speak into the lives of pastors and mentor leaders and serve the church through serving those who lead. 

I guess I'm realizing that for all intents and purposes, I've just been trying to jump that gun a bit. 

So I will continue to blog and express myself, but won't obsess over it. I hope what I post will be meaningful first for Evergreeners and where they are at, second for those in ministry or heading that way, and third for those who for one reason or another are interested in what I have to say.  

And maybe I'll check the stats a little less too.

The Productive Uncomfortability of Worship...

When I was in junior high or high school, I memorized Gal 2:20 (at camp, to a song which I still remember no less):

"I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. And the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me, and gave Himself up for me."

And even though I memorized that verse 25 years ago I think I can honestly say that it's only in the last couple of months that I've really begun to understand it. 

I had always read that verse as one of those "theological reality" pieces that describe the "essence" of who we are as followers of Jesus. We are the ones who have been identified with the death (and resurrection) of Jesus. 

Cool- got it. Not by my works, as he tells the Galatians. But by Jesus' work. Got it. 

But what if Paul isn't speaking (just) theologically? What if he's speaking experientially? What if this thought, written probably 20 years after he began, describes not just the reality of what happened to Paul when he started following Jesus- but what has happened every day of the last 20 years? And continues to happen. And what must happen... to me.

When I think of this as someone farther along in maturity than me describing not just the reality of justification, but the process of conversion, of maturity and growth, I begin to understand the every day struggle and war within myself. 

And I begin to see what I need to do about it. 

We've been having a long and good discussion on our forum about our worship. Some have expressed frustration at our lack of engagement and any outward indication that many of us are worshipping as opposed to mentally cataloguing our DVD collection. Others have said "Back off- I worship in my own way." Others have expressed a desire to be more engaged and acknowledged the reality that in a community, what we do or don't do actually impacts others, particularly when it comes to community disciplines like worship. All in all I'm glad to be a part of a community that can have such open conversations- where some can say "I wish we worshipped more emotively" and others can say "Please, no!"

Actually, I get that discomfort with worship in all its forms. I really do- and I'm not just saying that- I feel it too. But, I think the discomfort is a sign that in many ways, the worship we are doing as a community is having one of its intended effects on us as individuals. 

Over the last few years my weight has gone up and down- between 175 or so on the high end and 139 on the low. So yeah- at one point, I lost close to 40 pounds. How? 

A little diet I like to call "eat less and exercise." 

I had tried many, many times to shed some pounds with varying degrees of success, but never really hit the sweet spot until I made one small mental adjustment. 

I started to "enjoy" feeling hungry. 

It wasn't that I liked the feeling. It was more- when I felt it, I knew I was making progress. When my body said "eat!" or "eat more" and I said "No" or "Not yet" I was rewarded with some discomfort. And it wasn't until I embraced that discomfort and learned to listen to it in a different way (not listening to it as a signal that I needed to eat, but as a signal I was pressing in the right direction) that I got where I wanted to be. 

Like I say- I get that parts of worship are uncomfortable. Do I want to sit with you, pray with you, sing with you? No, I really don't.

And in a way, that's exactly why I do it. 

I recognize that pain and discomfort is an odd thing to talk about this way. Most pain/discomfort is a signal to do a 180. But some is a signal to keep going. And part of growing up is learning the difference. 

We sing less than probably 80% of the congregations out there- no 30-40 minute sets to start us off (though some EGers would love that), no extended periods of song after song after song. Mostly, we break up 3-5 songs throughout the morning. Generally our longest set is 15 minutes and 3 songs long. We do it this way because we want to signal: It's ALL worship. Not just this part at the beginning. And worship isn't the prelude to the main event (the sermon). It's all worship, and that's the main event. 

But because we see singing talked about both descriptively and prescriptively in scripture, because it's difficult to find communal worship talked about in Scripture (whether descriptive or prescriptively) that doesn't involve music and singing... we sing. 

It's one of the ways we try to remain in the historical stream of all those who came before us and one of the ways we try to worship God as HE wants to be worshipped. 

I try constantly to remind myself- worship isn't about us. In fact, in so far as it's specifically about pulling our hearts off of ourselves and the things we have attached them to and attaching them to God, it makes sense to me that I would lean into some things I wouldn't choose otherwise. 

In other words- often I find myself not worshiping by praying, listening to Scripture, singing because I want to... but precisely because I don't. 

Not to get too preachy here (but I'm going to get too preachy here): Some day our knee will bow before Jesus in worship. At least for myself, I'd like it not to be the first time. And inasmuch as I'd like my stubborn knees to get used to bowing (and my stubborn heart, my stubborn mouth, etc to that worship) I think a little practice is in order. 

To me, it's all a part of the process of me being crucified- doing the daily dying to myself Jesus told me I would need to do if I were to truly follow Him. Did I think that would involve only my money? Only my time? Did I think any part of me would escape?

When I choose to do that which I would not otherwise do for the sake of others, for the sake of Jesus, whether in sacrifice or in worship, I am being formed. Formed into someone that looks just that much more like Jesus.

Someday, my sincere hope is to be able to look back and truthfully say "I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ in me" and have it describe not just a theological reality... but the day-to-day existence I have lived. 

I just know it starts right now.  

Thank God for crappy dads!

Last week I was meeting over breakfast with some guys I meet over breakfast with... and I found myself feeling the most extraordinary feeling: gratitude for my dad. 

We were talking about various and sundry things God is doing, pushing or pulling us toward, and one guy was mentioning how grateful he is for having a wonderful dad. Loves the guy. Tries to look past the one or two little things that really bother him about their relationship because he knows his dad cares. But still, there are these one or two things that feel something like a wound...

As we talked about those one or two little things, my only thought, and what came out of my mouth was this: Well, thank God your dad isn't perfect. 

Thank God MY dad isn't perfect. 

It was a revelation to me when in High School someone told me my view of God was likely very much shaped by my view of my father. While the correlation wasn't perfect, I could certainly see some of the ways it was true. 

Later, it was even more a revelation to read Eph 3:14-15 ("For Whom every family in heaven and on earth is named [that Father from Whom all fatherhood takes its title and derives its name]."- Amplified Bible).

We get angry when our parents fail us, or when our dad isn't the loving, gracious, patient (fill in the adjective) father we want. We get even more angry when we realize they were meant to be a certain way, draw a certain picture... Our parents, and for the sake of this discussion, our fathers are meant to point to that Father of which they are merely a shadow, a type. 

But here's the thing: more than meant to- they DO. 

Even the crappy ones. 

They point us to God in both what they do well and in what they do poorly. They point us to him when they succeed in loving us and when they fail to. 

How? How could they point us to Him in their failure?

Because if they were perfect, did it ALL right, offered us unconditional love that was always patient, always wise, always nurturing and building into us... well, I guess we wouldn't need God, right? We'd be satisfied with that guy over there in the Lay-Z-Boy and completely miss the God of the Universe, the God who made us, pursues us, died for us. 

I realize it's probably a little too John Piper-esque for some reading this to say "Thank God for all the ways in which your dad failed you." So I'm not going to say that. 

But I will say this: I'm thankful for a dad who didn't get much right (and that's probably about the most generous assessment I've ever done of his fathering). I'm thankful because though he never pointed me to God intentionally, by his absence and indifference he drove me to lean all the more heavily on the God who is always present and never indifferent- the God who loves me, like the Psalmist says, with an everlasting love. 

I realize that may be an odd way to appreciate my dad, but it's the truth. 

And if that's ALL my dad ever did for me, I think it's enough. 

Recovery

Still recovering from this week's fast trip down to San Diego- yesterday I felt as though a train had hit me, today somewhat better. Now I'm trying to get my head back in the game, back in the present... back in Portland. 

Too much happening here with my family, my church and my life to worry much more about what's happening in San Diego, but for those who missed the twitter or facebook updates...

I spent Tuesday cleaning out my dad's apartment, filtering through his personal effects, pulling out the few letters he had hung onto from 20 years ago, the pictures, the old year books. The guy's life peaked in the late 60's and stopped altogether in the late 80s. Nothing significant, no relationships, no movement happened after that. 

It's frightening what 9 years in an apartment with only minimal cleaning by a cleaning person can do- the dust and cobwebs, the cigarette smoke stains on every surface- I moved a box in the closet, and the carpet underneath was white while all around it was brown. Amazing.  

I filled a dumpster with rotting clothes, old mail, kitchenware I grown up eating off of which had largely gone unused this last decade as my dad ate mostly fast food every day, The fridge was a nightmare. 

I saved the pictures and letters and things and put them in a box for him. Not sure where he's going to end up, somewhere with 24-hour care, but when he goes, he'll have a suitcase of clothes and a box of pictures and that's it. The take-away from a wasted life. 

I do feel compassion for him, though... he's clearly in pain, both physical and emotional. He finds himself with nothing and no one, unable or unwilling to even try communicating. 

I sat with him for about half an hour on Tuesday- I wish it was longer, but honestly- it was all I could take. He barely looked at me- once, possibly for 15 seconds, and then went back to the TV. 

"It's been a hard few months, hasn't it?" 

"Yeah."

Are you feeling better today?"

"Yeah"

One word answers, grunts... 

I took the initiative and apologized for not having been in better touch the last few years. I told him I was sorry we didn't have a better relationship. No response. 

I mentioned a few times I thought I would go and didn't know if I would see him again. No response. 

After a half hour, much of it just sitting next to him in silence, I got up and said I would be on my way. As I walked around the bed he (finally) followed me with his eyes and said "Why?" 

"Is there anything you want to say to me?" I asked.

"No," he said eyes back on the TV again.

"That's why," I answered. 

Looking back, I wish I had had the ability to just sit. I don't think anything would have changed. There were no breakthroughs, no opening-ups, no nothing even remotely in the works. 

But still...

I'm glad to have seen him, glad to have made an effort. Glad I got to thank my uncle and aunt for the truly heroic efforts and work they've done on his behalf in the last decade. 

Sorry he has ended up where and how he has. 

On the anvil, again...

I think God and I are having a "moment." 

About a week ago, I began praying what will inevitably go down as one of the more stupid prayers I've ever prayed: "God show me what your discipline looks like."

I was reading in Proverbs where it says "People who accept discipline are on the pathway to life, but those who ignore correction will go astray." 

Not wanting to be one of the ignorers, I started thinking through what God's discipline looks like. What does it mean to be corrected by God? Hebrews says 

"'For the Lord disciplines those he loves,
and he punishes each one he accepts as his child.'”
As you endure this divine discipline, remember that God is treating you as his own children. Who ever heard of a child who is never disciplined by its father?

God disciplines us for our own good. Check. 

Out of love. Check. 

And that looks like...? 

What I didn't want to say was "crappy circumstances=God's discipline." That's an equation that's just too easy to abuse. The fact is, crap happens to the just and the unjust, as it were. 

But...

If it's not circumstantial, what is it? A guilty conscience (sorry... "convicted")? A sense of God's distance or some other kind of feeling? What does it look like when God lays down the smack in your life? 

So I started asking- God show me. Help me understand. 

Long and the short of it is, it's been a crappy week. 

I'm not ready to make any conclusions yet, but the loss, the "taking away" that's happened over the last week has been pretty noticeable. My health, my wallet, the work of my hands, relationships... all of it has been affected. I won't detail it all, but it's cost me a lot of time, effort, money and brain cycles. 

In the midst of this whole thing, God has been speaking to me. Last week, as I sat out on the porch (taking the day off due to nausea and throwing up the night before) I began to hear from God about growing up in my faith- about not being the kind of guy who cuts corners in the least, about a more mature, more straight approach to God, to others and to life. There are more specifics, but those are between me and Him, at least for now. 

And still I'm not sure... God speaking to me, God laying His hand on my life, God pushing me to grow up? 

Sounds like what discipline is for. 

And this sure feels like "discipline." 

I guess I'm getting an answer- the only question left is... 

Will I listen?

My better and not so better moments...

Maybe I should just start each new blog post with "Sorry I haven't been blogging more"? 

But since it's just you and me now blog, and all those other folks who used to hang around and read this stuff have moved on to Letters From Kamp Krusty and Dustin's blog, I guess we can get back down to business, eh? 

So much and so little happening, all at the same time. 

Looks like I'm probably heading down to San Diego a week from today. So, the week before Palm Sunday, the start of our 3rd Gathering, trying to get ready for Good Friday and Easter, I'm hopping on a plane to deal with dad. 

I'm really trying to be okay with it, but it's a struggle. In my best moments, I feel compassion for him, am able to think redemptively about what it means to go and serve someone who has cultivated a careful indifference to you over nearly 40 years, about finding healing by answering the hostility of that indifference with love and trying to be Jesus to someone who seems to have missed Him...

In my worst moments I think "Screw him. I have a life, a family, a church community and damned if they are going to pay even the smallest price for this guy who just couldn't be bothered."

I try not to let that voice win... and I guess it's not, seeing as how I'm checking airfares, thinking thru who I can crash with and such. 

Dad... and Compassionate Detachment.

My dad almost died the night before last. He lives in San Diego, by himself in a small apartment. We have to have a cleaning lady come in to keep the apartment since on his own, he'll leave trash, food, whatever to rot. The neighbors complained, so we got some help.

She discovered him laying in blood soaked sheets, nearly bled out. 

A massive heart attack a few months ago meant a shunt and dialysis three times weekly for failing kidneys, and when the doctors began to worry about infection from the dialysis working its way to his heart, they put in some new hardware last week. 

Apparently, he didn't like it, and pulled it out, and in the process lost about 1000ccs of blood, maybe more. The average human body has 4000-5000ccs. 

If you've been following the blog here, you know the relationship with my dad is complicated, to put it mildly. He's just never been there- not in my childhood, or my adulthood- not showing up to my wedding, or even a visit we had set up so he could meet my wife and children. 

Generally speaking, whenever "Dad" stuff comes up, my back begins to spasm, my muscles clench and I can feel myself drifting towards fight or flight. 

But today, I'm doing ok. Better than okay, really. 

I got the news yesterday just before heading in to sit with the guy who's doing spiritual direction with me- probably about the best timing imaginable. "Providential" might be the word. 

As I processed with Morris some of the pain around the idea that my aunt and uncle who've been caring for my do-nothing dad for years now have reached the end of their ability to be involved and in charge of his existence, and that I was being called on to step in, I felt some of the old tightening in my back, some of the anger begin to rise up at the idea that I would be expected to care for someone who has worked hard to cultivate a practiced indifference to me and my life. 

But as we talked, as some of the knots began to untangle, I realized- actually, I'm not angry. I'm not worried. I'm... calm. At peace.  

How could this be?

Early yesterday morning, meeting with some guys, I was talking about the growth that has happened for me over the last year. And how I've had a growing feeling that in some ways, God was preparing me to deal with some hard things and that they were coming soon.  

This morning as I sat, before the family or even the sun rose, with my Bible, my prayer journal, a good book to stretch me, I realized- part of my calm right now is simply a result of having cultivated through the discipline of meeting with God on a daily basis, a trust in Him that actually makes in difference when it comes to dealing with the crap life throws at you. 

Of course, that's always been the theory hasn't it? But over the last 24 hours, I've seen it play out in real time. No- I'm not saying I've "arrived" in any sense of the word. I am saying that the disciplines matter. I feel like a guy who's been running a mile a day for the last year and is suddenly called on to do a 10k... and finds it not easy, but easier than expected.

As I ended with Morris yesterday, we prayed. And as we prayed, he asked me to picture Jesus entering the room with my dad. I pictured Him walking into the tiny bedroom that my dad has chosen to be his world for the last nearly ten years, and sitting on the bed next to him, putting an arm on his shoulder, telling him He loved him, was sorry for his wasted life, but still... wanted to redeem and renew him, his life. 

What, Morris asked, was Jesus saying to me and to my dad?

My aunt and uncle aside, I realized, I'm about the only Jesus my dad is going to see. Jesus may say those things to my dad, but He'll be using my mouth to do it. He may put an arm around him, but it will be mine.

By the same token, I know- Whatever I give my dad has to come from a place of grace, which is good, because to be honest, the only love I have for him is the love of Jesus. But then again, that's more than enough. 

At the same time I felt God telling me to be Jesus to my dad, I also sensed Him telling me- just remember, you're NOT Jesus. You don't have to die for this man. Someone Else already did that. There's a definite limit to what I can and should do here.

So here's where I'm at- I'm going to work with adult services to do what I can to get my dad the best possible available, some assisted living so he can live out his days in the solitary he desires. But I don't think I can do more than that- I don't think we'll be running up hundreds of thousands in debt to prolong an existence he doesn't seem very committed to himself for another year or two. I can't sacrifice myself or my kids education to help someone who seems entirely uninterested in helping himself, and has always seemed that way.  I'm not going to put my family at risk to do it. "Compassionate detachment" is the phrase in my head and oxymoronical as it seems, I think that about captures it. Even without drowning in the details and effort of propping up a failed life, I can show my dad love, show compassion, help him as I can and show him Jesus in the process. 

That feels about right. A little back-tightening... but mostly, peace. 

It's going to be an interesting month, though...

Limitations

I've been thinking through the issue of why I haven't been blogging as much... that's probably a nice way to put it, yeah? Truthfully, these last three months have found my blog laying by the side of the road like a wounded lemur. Will no one stop to help?

Anyway...

I've been (somewhat) enjoying the break, feeling a strange freedom from expression. It's not that I haven't had thoughts these last few months- I just haven't shared many with you. Naughty, I know. But maybe necessary. 

Maybe a break has been just what I needed, and more than the few weeks' hiatus that generally occurs around December. Maybe what I've needed was to reengage with why I do this blog, why I run PastorHacks.com.

Reading Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership has been good for me. Ruth Haley Barton is the real deal, and her wisdom for those trying to engage the difficult life of leadership as well as the disciplines which do (or rather, must) undergird it are invaluable. 

Here's what she said that stopped me in my tracks and convinced me I needed to do more of a reevaluation than simply taking a breather when it came to blogging and websites and the like:

"There is something deeply spiritual about honoring the limitations of our lives and the boundaries of what God has given us to do as leaders. Narcissistic leaders are always looking beyond their sphere of influence with visions of grandiosity far out of proportion to what is actually being given. Living within our limits means living within the finiteness of who we are as individuals and as a community- the limits of time and space, the limits of our physical, emotional, relational and spiritual capacities, the limits of our stage of life... and the limits of the calling God has given. It means doing this and not that. It means doing this much and not more."

As I read this, I felt the subtle shift inside from "dream big" to "dream deep." There's a time to go all Jabez and try to extend the circle of influence of our lives as widely as possible. And there's a time to recognize that eventually, that becomes counter productive to getting beyond the merely surface level in any area. To truly master something, you have to give yourself to it. You have to say no to a lot of things to say yes to one or two. 

Right now, my priorities are serving/worshiping/glorifying God through my family, my church and becoming the person I feel like God has me on track to become. My confession is that those priorities don't always work themselves out in that order and that I continually feel the tug of mission creep. Invitations which appeal to one's ego are difficult to turn down. 

The psychic weight of blogging and maintaining readership is honestly something I could live without. It feels at times like simply another obligation. 

While I love hearing from people I meet that something I wrote has helped them or contributed to their church planting/pastoral/personal journey, I recognize that I love it both in a healthy and unhealthy way. 

At my worst moments, I recognize that this whole thing of blogs and stats, of links and hat tips is an ego booster that needs to be kept in check. Scratch that. "In check" doesn't get it. "Killed" or more precisely "crucified" would be the right way to say it. To the extent I allow my identity to be based on being known and appreciated for writing or a blog, I'm actually feeding a cancer on my soul that, uncrucified will leave me a self-centered husk who cares more about stats than anything else.

Something I care about will get crucified. And it's either going to be my ego or more important things (like family, church, etc). Worst case scenario thinking, I know. But I'm pretty good at looking down the road and playing out consequences, and I'll just have to ask you to trust me on this one. 

So, is this my "Dear Bob.Blog Readers" letter of dropping out of the blog world? 

No. 

But it is an admission that my family is more important than you, my church is more important than you, and my personal mental/spiritual/emotional health is more important. For me, right now, I have to stop thinking as broadly as I have, I have to stop trying to "influence the conversation." 

"When we refuse to live within our limits (one of my deepest temptations), we wear out ourselves and those who lead with us. We compromise the quality of our relationships with God and the people around us. We compromise our effectiveness at doing the things we have been called to do. To live within our limits is to live humbly as the creature, not the Creator. Only God is infinite; the rest of us need to be very clear about what we are about in any given moment and say no to everything else."

I think it's a particular pastoral temptation to be dissatisfied with the ministry and situation God has given me- to dream constantly of bigger and better, of more influence and respect, to lose sight of what's now because we focus so much on what's next.

It's a given that I'm a husband and father and need to constantly renew my commitment to placing them first. I'm also a pastor. God has given me a church. These are my people. And in ten years I want to be known, not for having written a bunch of stuff that not many people remember, but for having given myself to the care, feeding and encouragement of my family and a group of people called Evergreen. I need to stop mourning the fact that my family and pastoral duties preclude me from writing that book or the killer blog post that will set the internets on fire. The work God has given me for this period of my life is enough to challenge me, to sustain me and for me to enjoy setting my hands to.

And enough to form me, I think... to get me where I want to be after 10-15 years- The wise, older man (who may or may not have a grey, balding ponytail- TBD) who can speak into the lives of pastors and mentor leaders and serve the church through serving those who lead. 

I guess I'm realizing that for all intents and purposes, I've just been trying to jump that gun a bit. 

So I will continue to blog and express myself, but won't obsess over it. I hope what I post will be meaningful first for Evergreeners and where they are at, second for those in ministry or heading that way, and third for those who for one reason or another are interested in what I have to say.  

And maybe I'll check the stats a little less too.

Resolution update...

Dustin asked me yesterday how the new year's resolution is coming. For those who don't remember, it was "kick ass"- which basically encompassed taking it up a notch on everything. He confessed that he wondered when he first read that whether I was speaking of the proverbial ass in general, or specific asses, and whether his was among them. My question is why it has to be an either/or.

 

At any rate, I told him "fairly well"- It's been a good week of trying to be more attentive to the things to which I'd like to be attentive- my wife, my kids, my health (the eating part hasn't magically changed itself, surprise, surprise), my work... I've been able to get a lot done, feel good about the work I'm doing, be more centered on and present to Scripture and prayer and what God is saying and doing in my life right now. The only part I feel less than kick-ass on is a commitment to write and blog more. It seems like it just doesn't all fit- that I can't be attentive to all those things and be someone who writes often and well. 

Or maybe I should say, there probably is a way to fit it, a way to establish rhythms of creativity and life where it all fits and comes together- I just haven't discovered what those are. I'm getting up even a bit earlier these days- before 5 now, so maybe that will help. 

And maybe it will explain why the next time you are with me past 8pm and I start slurring my words and nodding of during lulls in the conversation. It's not the white wine spritzer- it's just past my bedtime. 

Acedia no more: 2009

My big resolution for 2009? 

Kick Ass. 

Actually, Amy thought I was joking when I told her that. 

But I'm serious. 

In addition to it being New Year's, this is the year I turn 40... and both of those tend to make a guy think. Reassess, as it were.

As I look back on 2008, taken as a whole, what I sense is a growing amount of acedia, a state of listlessness and restlessness which tend to keep one from actually doing anything. Not depression, similar to ennui... more spiritual than emotional, acedia was first noticed (or at least written about) by the Desert Fathers. Similar to sloth, leading to dissatisfaction and prayerlessness...

2008 was the year I got tired, coasted, settled.

I think much of "energy" and creativity actually stems not so much from happenstance or lightening-strike serendipity but from decisions. Decisions to move forward, change, have the courage it takes to try, maybe fail, try again...

Kick ass. 

So that's it for me. I've felt stultified and uncreative. 

I'm not even going to run a "best of Bob.Blog for 2008. 

Why? Not much to run, honestly. 

This year (I have some specifics, but generally speaking) I want to read more, write more, exercise more, talk more, risk more, love more, give more, challenge more, forgive more... basically be more of the person I know I should be, but have simply lacked the will to lean into being. (And of course, what that really means is laying down idols and worshiping Jesus more, but that's another post...)

So, my resolution is to kick ass. 

For Jesus, of course, but still. 

Kick ass. 

Maybe yours.

I mean... "What's yours?"

:)

Dads, Heart Attacks and Grace.

If you were to look through the many boxes of old books, clothes, knick-knacks I have stashed in various places around the house, you might notice an abnormal amount of unaddressed, unwritten-in Christmas cards. Some birthday cards and a smattering of Father's day cards as well. 

I guess I have a habit of buying cards to send to my father and never actually getting around to sending them. 

It's been almost a year since we spoke. And probably 6 years before that. Not making the trip to my wedding was kind of a big deal to me. Ditto no acknowledgement of the birth of my son. Or my daughter. Or my other daughter. My birthday for the last decade or two... pretty much anything that someone else didn't drag him to. 

Last year, deciding it was probably time he meet my family and vice versa, I called and told him I'd be down there for the National Pastor's Convention, Amy and the kids would be flying down after and we'd all like to see him. We arranged to meet him along with my aunt and uncle at a restaurant.

Only my aunt and uncle showed up. No dad. No call. No apology. Just said he wasn't feeling up to it. 

I really thought that was the last straw. I'd already given up any vestige of hope for relationship- I wasn't fooling myself on that count. But I thought, for his sake, sitting alone in an apartment day after day after day, zero relationships- basically just running out the clock on life, maybe it would be nice to have some touch of real-life humanity. Maybe meeting his grandkids might do him some good, or at least, be something he'd enjoy. 

After the no-show, I stopped even caring to do that much. 

Until last week. 

I've been ruminating on grace, on those things we get while not even coming close to deserving them. I've been thinking that the response of someone who's been shown grace should be to extend that grace to others- and that necessarily means to those who don't deserve it. And to be honest, I can't think of anyone in my life who deserves less than my dad. 

So, I thought... the grace-full thing to do was send a card with pictures of the kids and tell him something about each of them and how we were doing. To offer him something of a real-life connection with a real family, even though everything he's done over the last four or more decades has fought that.

Thursday, I stopped by Walgreens on the way home. It only took me about 20 minutes to pick out a card, which, if you know anything about guys, you know... that's an eternity. I can buy a card in 30-40 seconds. But this was a bit harder. Anyway, card in hand, I headed home, and when Amy asked why I was buying Christmas cards before Halloween, I told her what I planned to do. 

This may be another card I never get to send. On my way to our elders meeting this morning I got a voicemail from my uncle saying my dad had a pretty big heart attack last night. He's hanging in there for now, though his kidneys are having trouble. 

I have no idea how to feel about that... But, if there's a sense he's on his way out, I'll get on a plane and go down there. I guess I have some things to say and I should probably give him an opportunity to say a few things as well. I think if I really believe in grace, it should probably mean something in the hardest relationship I have, not just the easy ones. 

Still waiting to hear the latest, so I think for now, I'll just go hug my kids.

bob.media

This post is mainly for my mom. :) 

 

Recent stuff I've done, "out and about"

Leadership Journal, Fall 2008- "Pastor Heal Thyself" (online here)

Out of Ur- I'm a regular, monthly (roughly) contributer- latest piece here 

Collide- It's not out yet, but Collide has already started the conversation around the cover piece done by myself and one of the pastors at a Mars Hill video venue... check it out

Neue- an online piece here (blog readers will recognize it) and, I think a piece on authentic community in their upcoming quarterly. 

As an aside... It's been awhile since I picked up Leadership Journal. Can I just say that it's fantastic? This issue I'm carrying around has a ton of stuff that I'm reading and have marked to read, including stuff by Neil Cole (Organic Church), Dan Kimball and Alan Hirsch.  

As well, check out Neue- you can preview their last quarterly online here

Why my sermon isn't done yet...

I sat down yesterday to study and begin writing the sermon for this weekend (1 Cor 14: 26-40... whoa...) at a local coffee shop. I hadn't been there but maybe 3 minutes when an older gentleman walked in, set up a chess board, and asked me and another guy working on his laptop if we were up for a game. 

I smiled but declined as did the other guy... I was on the clock, after all. 

But the longer the older man sat there, alone in front of his chessboard, the more I began to think about how much time I spend in coffee shops, earbuds in, head down over book or computer, completely missing out on one of the few genuine upsides to "officing" in a coffee shop- that chance to interact with people. 

So yeah, I got up and went and played two games of chess. 

I only meant to play one quick one, but we got to talking...

He totally suckered me in, too. Made out like he was someone who had recently gotten into chess, had bought a computer chess game and was now just looking for some human opponents. Over the course of two games (he trounced me in the first and narrowly won the second) I discovered that he does this nearly every day and has been doing so for years. 

We talked about our work (we're guys after all), so I got to tell him that I was a pastor and a little about evergreen. 

He'd been a part of a local church here for 30 years, but was now "taking a break."

I ended up being a little late to get home to Date Night... mainly because as we wrapped up the conversation started to get deep- some serious stuff going on, some real struggles, and as odd as it sounds, we got there, even as relative strangers in a coffee shop. One thing I've noticed about self-identifying yourself as a pastor with people- it often totally shuts them down OR they begin to unload some of the deepest stuff of their lives.

I mostly listened- didn't offer any great words of advice or wisdom. But I felt like even though my sermon might suffer, my pastoring didn't. 

I've been trying to make and stick with a decision to be less introverted in public- more aware and concerned about those around me. (Amy noted my downright chattiness with the waitress last night. A big switch for me) It's so easy for me to be gregarious with those who come to evergreen or already see me as "pastor." Much harder for me to do that in public spaces.

What I really want to do is earn the right to pastor those who don't already see me that way- to move the gifts God has given me out of our "Community" and into my community and see a group of people who don't come to evergreen and recognize me as their pastor, but who begin to see me as a spiritual friend who fills a role of pastor in their lives, and through that become connected to Jesus. 

The great and mysterious opportunity of my life...

"For Thy perfect wisdom and perfect goodness:

For the love wherewith Thou lovest mankind:

For the love wherewith Thou lovest me:

For the great and mysterious opportunity of my life:

For the indwelling of Thy Spirit in my heart:

For the sevenfold gifts of Thy Spirit:

I praise and worship Thee, O Lord."

-John Baillie, A Diary of Private Prayer

That one line "For the great and mysterious opportunity of my life..." has been bouncing around in my head for days, doing some very good work in me. 

The birth of yet a third beautiful, perfect child is another opportunity to reflect on God's goodness to me and the great and mysterious opportunity he has given me in this life I lead.

Completely undeserved I have a wife who loves me, children I delight in, a home that shelters me in more ways than one, food in the pantry and clothes in the closet, a church full of people I love who allow me to help teach and shepherd them...

There are times when I am just awestruck by the gift of my life, and by the God who would give it to me. 

the Co-Dependent Pastor...

Two basic types of pastoral disfunction- the narcissist and the co-dependent. We all lean one way or the other on that continuum- some so little it's not really an issue, others, well...

The need to succeed or the need to please and avoid conflict. 

The narcissist, with his or her need to succeed really doesn't care what others think. When these people leave ministry, it's because they are driven out. Their self-centeredness and inability to empathize/think of others often looks for all the world like a person with vision and leadership charisma- someone who knows what needs to be done and does it. Unfortunately, when the truth becomes known, it's usually after people begin to see the long, long trail of metaphorical bodies that get left in the wake of these people- years of stepping on and over people may get you up the ladder, but sooner or later the toll becomes obvious and either the narcissist leaves or everyone else begins to. 

On the other side is the co-dependent. Helping professions are ripe soil for people who need others to help them establish a sense of identity... and the pastorate is no exception. It's a job where I can be fully and completely co-dependent and get rewarded for it. In fact, the more sold out the pastor is to you and your needs, the more he or she is (often) praised. The narcissist doesn't mind conflict- in fact, they kind of enjoy it. Another chance to focus attention on them and their leadership skills, but the co-dependent is motivated by the need for others' approval and will avoid even necessary conflict whenever possible. 

Which am I? 

Continue reading "the Co-Dependent Pastor..." »

"Our publishing committee discussed your book proposal today, and unfortunately decided not to acquire it for publication. Everyone on the committee thought the writing was first rate and on an important topic. But at this stage in our development, XXXX XXXX is not well equipped to market books to church leaders, which is obviously the primary market for your book.  I wish we were because I really wanted us to publish your book. But without a good marketing and sales plan in place to reach this market, we would be doing you a disservice by publishing your book and not giving it the marketing and sales support it deserves.

 

I think given the right publisher, you should have no trouble finding a home for your book. The obvious choices are Zondervan, Baker, and InterVarsity, but you might also consider Crossway, Moody, and B&H Publishing. Wherever  your book lands, I fully expect it to do well and for its important message to be well received.

 

Warmly,

XXX XXX"

Erg. Ah, well.. anyone know anyone at Zondervan, Baker, InterVarsity, Crossway, Moody, or B&H Publishing?? :)

This last week has just been... crazy.

Working with a couple through some heavy marital issues, considering renting our place and trying to move to something with a yard (and so looking at more houses than I care to remember), between our two gatherings our biggest Sunday attendance ever (not including that one freak Sunday with the 7 baby dedications and everyone's families showing up), Mom's heart attack...

Yeah- my mom had a heart attack night before last. All is well... I think she's a little too tough and more than a little too determined to go with us and the kids to the beach rental house she got next week to let a little thing like a heart attack slow her down. She's in St Vincent's near us here and she and her new stent will hopefully be home tomorrow.

In the midst of all that I'm fighting off a head cold and feeling simply craptacular.

Happened to read 2 Chron 20 this morning: "So Jehoshaphat's kingdom was at peace, for his God had given him rest on every side."

Yes, please. Amen.

Don't freak out, mom...

So- I'm at the gym yesterday, doing my normal routine. About 20 minutes on the elliptical, some upper body machines and then 15-20 min in the dry sauna. First thing I noticed when I walked into the sauna was that it seemed a bit hotter than usual. But nobody else seemed to mind, so...

I could only take about 15 minutes and went to hit the shower. Hung up my towel and shorts and started to cool down under the water.

That's when I realized there was a problem... I could tell I was going into shock.

The whole dizziness, tunnel-vision thing- not to mention I felt like I might puke any second. I leaned on the wall under the water and just tried to keep it together. After a few minutes of that, I sat down in the next shower stall over- the one with the bench for the old dudes.

At some point I must have fainted because I woke up on the floor of that shower (got a nice scrape on my head, presumably from hitting the the tile on the way down).

Here's a good tip for you- don't have a heart attack or anything else potentially life threatening at the gym, or at least in the gym shower. No one will notice, much less ask if you need help. I'm assuming that if I had clothes on, there might have been an offer of help, but get in trouble wearing only a towel? Totally on your own, man.

I got back onto the bench and sat there for awhile, yawning uncontrollably, trying not to fall over sideways again.

After I got home and got appropriate sympathy from my spousal unit, the rest of the night was fine.

Well, until the extreme, intense shooting pain in my neck, that is.

Seems I pulled something. Can hardly move my neck. Took one of the muscle relaxers that Dustin gave me (yeah- he's my pusher), and that knocked me out pretty well- but doesn't seemed to have actually done anything for my neck.

Heading to an emergency chiro appointment in an hour, so we'll see what he can do to for me.

At least I have clothes on now.

(I wanted to do some good posting today- don't know if that will happen. Dagnabbit.)

I've been thinking through issues of spiritual formation recently... mainly in terms of how we do whatever it is we do as a community, and the forming impact it has on us. Whatever we do is spiritually forming, isn't it? The choices we make, the activities we pursue or neglect, the words we say and how we say them- all of it goes into making us the persons we are becoming and the community we will be...

So my question (which honestly, I've been thinking about on and off throughout the last four years, thanks in part to both Doug Pagitt and his formerly titled Re-Imagining Spiritual Formation and Brian McLaren who was the first person to to tell me that the way we as a community worshiped was just as spiritually forming as the fact that we did worship) has been: "how do our choices as a community impact the community we are becoming?" And I've started with thinking through our worship gathering, simply because that's the easiest piece to consider and make changes- how does our use (or lack thereof) of silence form us? How does the amount we pray together and what we pray form us? What about the interaction we do and how we do it? Does the way we do "sermons" form us just as much as the content of the discussions themselves?

But this post isn't really about that...

Do you ever get the sense you've Peter Principled yourself out? The Peter Principle says everyone rises to his or her level of incompetence, that is, that when you know how to do a job, you'll be promoted or given additional duties until you reach a place where you no longer know what you are doing... and there you'll stay.

If I had to be perfectly honest, I'd say that's pretty much how I'm feeling right now in just about every area of my life. Pastoring, being a dad, being a husband... interpersonal relationships and general life skills. I feel like any heat I might have had to throw got thrown a good while ago.

It's not as though my life is particularly difficult- I don't have many challenges- considerably fewer than a lot of people. But what I do have tends to stymie me. My own inabilities seem perfectly matched to the challenges I face.

Or more likely, they create them...
And if my particular challenges and created by my particular inabilities... erg.

So I'm praying- Praying that God will help me gain new sensitivities and skills and grow as a husband, a father, a pastor. Probably in that order too.

Sometimes I just hate the fact that it seems like the only way to really learn how to do something is to fail at it.

I haven't exactly been hitting it out of the park lately... spiritually speaking that is.

Kind of in a slump.

I was sitting here praying this morning (after procrastinating, thinking about other things, looking at Apple blogs, etc) when I remembered a tidbit from way back when. While in Bible college I had interviewed one of my professors who was also a pastor. It was for a ministry class, and really, the only thing I remember him saying was his answer to "So what's the secret for success in ministry?"
Without skipping a beat he said simply "Success in ministry is entirely dependent on your personal walk with God."

So, like I say, sitting here, thinking about that this morning. Truth be told, that little sentence has been running through my head for almost twenty years now...

"Success in ministry is entirely dependent on your personal walk with God."

Really? Is that a fair statement to make? Is the whole thing down to me, and my spirituality?
Even if it's not entirely dependent... it MUST play some role, right?

Chris, our associate pastor recently told me one of his favorite staff meeting moments was when we were talking through a nice long chain of things that had gone wrong and I finally just looked at him and Dustin and said, "Alright... which one of you guys is looking at porn?"

Okay- maybe there isn't that strict cause and effect between time spent reading Scripture/praying/steering clear of sin and good things happening... or is there?

Couldn't that just devolve down into a Christian Pastor's version of karma?

"Success in ministry is entirely dependent on your personal walk with God."

I guess there are really only three options- it is, it isn't or it is somewhat.
And it probably matters how you define success. For me, success is when I do that which I'm supposed to be doing in ministry- loving people, loving God, helping other people to love God... teaching them well, counseling them wisely, pastoring with integrity.

How could my personal stuff NOT play into that mix?

"Success in ministry is entirely dependent on your personal walk with God."

So- what do you think?

Is it true?

Am I screwed?

From June 6th, 2004-
"starting a new blog here...

We had a baby in March... and then planted a church in April. While everything seems to have panned out okay, I'm fairly sure that we'll be looking back on this someday and wondering what the heck we were thinking.

I don't know how it worked: I left (uh... that's a euphemism) my job at the end of December. Amy quit working at the end of February. It seems like we'd be flat broke, be we're not. We actually have more money in the bank than at the end of December. God used a wonderful combination of severance, unemployment, support from others... and who knows what to keep us afloat.

It's been a pretty amazing adventure. Everyone said it would be hard- in fact, a few church planters I spoke with were downright discouraging. But the fact is, it's been okay- even fun. I don't think I've ever enjoyed ministry more. This is what I was made to do."

Good conversation with someone from Evergreen yesterday... the end result being that I'm feeling convicted of my (lately) anemic prayers...

When we first started this evergreen thing, man... I was a prayer ninja. I had to be. We had just bought a house, had a baby on the way, the whole church thing was this tenuous gossamer construct that seemed like if a wind just slightly too strong were to blow on it...

I prayed.

And it's not that I don't pray now, but...

That edge has certainly gone.

The question is, whatever made me think that living prayerfully was any less important now,
four years on? That relationships with my neighbors, with my wife, that praying for those connecting to our community who didn't yet know Jesus, for God's leading for us as a people... that any of that was one iota less urgent or vital than on the day we "launched"???

I'm just as convinced as the day we started: God loves new churches and He even loves four-year-old ones and He wants to use them to be transformative agents in their city- to show what shalom means, what difference Jesus makes, to bring life and forgiveness and the truth of the Gospel to all people everywhere. And as amazed as I am that God would want to use me and our little community in that, I'm even more amazed that when I'm not careful, I can easily get distracted, easily become complacent and too easily lose sight of what I'm/we're really here for.

I am at this very moment, missing our Maundy Thursday gathering.

I had planned on being there- we're actually doing two this year- east side and west side.
But...

Tonight, before, during and after dinner Jack was having a Tasmanian devil, Def-Con 5 Melt Down (which of course brought Janie right up to Def-Con 3 herself). Amy and I spent dinner just staring at each other, thinking the neighbors must have been thinking we were practicing our best torture/waterboarding techniques on these two screaming children...

So I sent Amy to the Maundy Thursday gathering by herself. I didn't want to risk it with the Drama King and his protege'... I'm at the gym, trying to take out a bit of frustration in a semi-constructive way. The kids are in the Kids Club being someone else's problem (and probably being perfect angels).

Simon Webbe on the iPhone is helping a lot.
It irks me to miss this though. I love maundy Thursday- we do a very community-oriented communion with good bread, good wine, good focus on loving each other (as was Jesus's point that last nightsith the disciples before being betrayed) and good conversations with each other. A world away from our somber Good Friday gatherings... I'm bummed that a lot of people skip it... I think it makes Good Friday even more meaningful.

And I'm bummed I'M missing it this year...

So, not to get
a. all dramatic
or
b. all whiny,
but...

Honestly, sometimes the weight of this thing feels like it's going to crush me.

"This thing" being pastoral ministry, "crush" meaning metaphorically weigh me down until I'm a quivering mass of existential angst, and "me" meaning... well, me.

Here's what's getting me down (or maybe "up" would be a more apt word to use here... "up" as in 2:30am) lately. One of the absolute hardest things to come to grips with in my role is the weight people put on my words.

Now, now... Careful there. Bob isn't thinking of Bob as more than Bob ought...

This has more to do with the fact that if someone in our community feels slighted by someone else in our community, they'll generally do one of two things: forgive them/work it out (good) or just give the other person a wide berth (not nearly as good, but still...). When someone in our community feels slighted by me? Well, the options often seem to narrow down to one: leave.

Someone in our community says something dumb about something important? Others generally: laugh, say "hey! That was dumb! Duh!" or just ignore it. When I say something dumb about something important? Two things generally happen: words like "concerns" and "issues" start getting dropped or... people just leave.

I say dumb things all the time. Just ask my wife. I'm so glad every time I do so it doesn't result in a flurry of emails, coffee meetings and someone choosing to leave our family, generally without telling anyone.

I just wish it worked differently on a church level, you know?

So, yeah... my dad didn't show on Friday.

We had a good dinner anyway, with my aunt and uncle, my only other relatives left in California where I grew up, but...

It wasn't just a no-show. It was also a no-call, a no-attempt-to-reschedule, a no-how-about-stopping-by-and-letting-me-meet-my-grandkids...

I suppose a bit more backstory might help.

When Amy and I got married almost 6 years ago, my dad didn't want to come. Said he "wouldn't know anyone." That pretty much tore things for me... I had made efforts with him all through my 20's, but never really saw that reciprocated. So when he didn't want to fly out for our 2002 wedding, I was pretty much done.

I did make another effort, however, when we discovered Jack was on his way. I wrote a Christmas card telling him what was up with me, that we were about to plant a church and he was about to be a grandfather. I let him know I'd be happy to send pictures if he wanted them. I told him all he had to do was write or call and just let me know he'd like that.

Never heard back...

The hard part of this is that as difficult as it was to get to a place where I picked up the phone and let him know we were coming, it was even more difficult to get to a place where I had something redemptive to say to him, something about forgiveness. But I was there.

Now? I don't know... I'm angry, hurt, would rather not think about it, etc.

His health is failing (congestive heart failure) and I seriously doubt he'll be around that much longer. I really don't know how much effort I can/should put into this.
Right now, it's not feeling much, I can tell you.

An interesting confluence of events/themes in my life.

I wrote just about a year ago of some of my struggles in finding a mentor, someone to build into me as I was trying to build into others, and the fact that this thread, this lack wove its way all the way back in my life...  and seemed like it would continue to do so moving forward, for the foreseeable future. I've never felt thwarted by God in any other area, but in this one...

Recently, I met with an older pastor named Morris. He's stepped away from full-time pastoring to focus more on spiritual direction, working mainly with pastors in the CMA denomination, though he makes time for a few non-denominational strays like me.

We met, had a good conversation that I really enjoyed and agreed to meet again.
At our second meeting he listened as I described where I'm at; my fear that I'm going to hit a wall in 8-9 months, my frustration that I've reached a place in life (husbanding, fathering, pastoring) where I simply have no idea what I'm doing, the busyness, tiredness, distractedness... He displayed good empathy, asked appropriate questions and finally said this: "Bob, you know what you need? You need a coach and spiritual director."

Yeah? Really?

He then began to talk about how he'd be happy to help me find such a person, he had some contacts, etc.
My heart was in my throat and all I could think was "Well, of course. What else could he have said? That's the plot, after all."

“A paradox has emerged in this new millennium: people have enhanced quality of life, but at the same time they are adding to their stress levels by taking on more than they have resources to handle. It's as though their eyes were bigger than their stomachs."
- David Allen, Getting Things Done

It's more than likely that you've heard a message, read a book, or done some thinking about "busyness" in the last year or two. Slightly less likely, but still entirely possible that you've heard a message, read a book, or done some thinking on "gluttony" during the same time.

It's highly unlikely that the two were connected, however. And maybe they should have been.

Why do we say yes to so much? Is it because we are guilt-ridden, co-dependent angst monkeys who lack the willpower to say no?
Nah- we say NO to a million things a day. Usually to things that are good for us, but still... When we want to, we know how to say no just fine, thank you.

Is it because we have a drive towards self justification that works itself out in our work and an ever-increasing load of commitments through which we seek to earn the favor of others and God? In part, yes...

But maybe, it also has something to do with our appetites?

You know, our appetites for recognition and "importance." To be liked, appreciated, admired... Even our appetite to "get things done."

And honestly, there's nothing inherently wrong with that. But like all things in this broken world, left unchecked by the Spirit and unsubmitted to God, our appetite to be liked and our desire to achieve will run out of control.

I've been thinking about busyness as though it's a problem to be managed- increase my productivity and I could, of course, accept and keep more commitments, more on my plate... more to feed my ego.

Maybe the problem with busyness isn't it. Maybe it's me. Me and my ego and pride.

Conceived of this way, busyness isn't an issue of time management and productivity, it's an issue of desire. When is enough, enough? When am I doing enough good things through which that God-given desire to feel productive and useful in this world can be fulfilled? When do I cross the line between finding satisfaction in the good day's work I put in and trying to find my identity through an ever-increasing load of ego-enhancing commitments?

Don't get me wrong- I want to continue to work on productivity/time management and all the rest. But until I work through the inner issues of why I try to do so much, all the productivity hacks in the word really just add up to enabling.
In other words, most days I don't need any more help being productive or managing the stress of work. I think I need help in managing my appetite for applause and the stress of opportunity.

I fear my busyness is simply a sign of my gluttony.

Day two without coffee and I'm feeling great.
Sleeping better, less jumpy...

I did get off the freeway at the wrong exit yesterday and do a couple of other duh kinds of things... so maybe my brain is missing the Joe, but basically feeling great.

And the no coffee thing has happened by accident. I just haven't felt the need.

I picked up at Costco (who so generously feed my kids lunch in bite-sized samples every Saturday) a box of Zip Fizz. Little tubes of powder you add to water. Lots of vitamins, about 100mg of caffeine (a tall coffee at SBux has 260 mg, for comparison). But somehow, whereas with coffee I needed the morning cup (and by "cup" I mean big-arse travel mug), another when I got to wherever I going to work that day or from 7-11 along the way... with this, I don't.

Maybe it's the 41,667% of your RDA of vitamin B12? Yeah, you read that right- not a typo.

That's a lot of B12.

You don't metabolize it very well, and probably end up peeing most of it away, but I gotta tell you- one tube in the morning (10 calories, 0 Sugar- just mix with water) has kept me going all day long and without that edgy feeling that too much caffeine gives. No headaches, I've been sleeping better, felt calmer... Is this what it feels like to be in a healthy rhythm? Whoa.

You should check this stuff out:

Time for some self-therapy.

One of my pastoral counseling schticks is that frustration is nearly always a sign of unreasonable expectations, and when you feel frustrated, it's a good thing to examine why, what you were/are expecting and whether or not it's unreasonable to expect that.

So, I'm frustrated. Frustrated with myself for sure and trying hard not to be frustrated with the two tiny people I love most in this whole world.

I'm in one of those phases where my brain has turned off- it's kind of a cycle, really. I begin reading less, thinking less, writing less.. and since each feeds the other, there's this diminishing return type of effect where slowly but surely my brain begins to shut down and turn off...

I don't blog, I don't think, I don't process, and as a result, everything gets backed up. I find myself telling my problems to and processing with those I'm trying to do pastoral counseling with.

And then when I try to turn the whole thing around, I find myself rising earlier and earlier to get some time in before the (seemingly) increasingly early rising times of our beautiful kids.
Never fails.

I'll sit down to read my Bible, spend some time in prayer and- crying (Jack or Janie... not me).
Or I'll actually get in reading/praying/stretching I want to do, and (thinking I'm home free) reach out for a book to read... Touching the book seems to activate a mechanism whereby a tiny electrical shock is transmitted to one of our kids (whichever is on Keep-Dad-From-Thinking-Duty that day) and someone gets up... Our rule is that up until 7am is sleep/in room/quiet time. It rarely seems to work out that way.

I'm not complaining (okay- I am a little)... mainly, I catalog my frustrations to name them and to label them- unreasonable. Unreasonable to expect a 1 1/2 year old and a 3 1/2 year old to conform to vision of the perfect morning, and to do so regularly. Unreasonable to assume that even if I did have all this free-time in the mornings, I would and could actually be the CS Lewisian figure I picture myself being.
Unreasonable to assume that thoughtful creativity can and should come easily.

God forgive me for any expectation of mine that would lead me to view my children waking in the morning as anything but a cause to once again, today, say "Thank You, God!"

So, I just realized something. I was looking through the archives for something and I noticed...

Let me back up.

When Jane was born, we were counseled to get a few little presents for Jack to unwrap and have/play with. The idea is that all the attention on Mom and the new baby is no fun for the sibling, so as a way to make them feel a bit special and occupy them, you get them a little something. Worked well with Jack and some brand new Thomas The Tank Engine trains.

So, here's what I noticed. It was right at the same time that Jane was born that I began my Quixotic Quest for a Macbook... you know, that little blog project wherein I asked all my readers for $.99 towards the purchase of the Macbook I am currently blogging on.

It worked, I got the Macbook a month later...

The realization? This computer is just a larger, more expensive version of a Thomas the Tank Engine.

D'oh.

I think this resolution from Jonathan Edwards about covers it...

"Resolved, that I will live so, as I shall wish I had done when I come to die."

And if not, this one does:
"Resolved, to live with all my might, while I do live."

And...
"Resolved, to live so, at all times, as I think is best in my devout frames, and when I have clearest notions of things of the gospel, and another world."

When my son Jack was about 1 1/2, he took up the habit of biting.

He'd bite me, he'd bite his mom, he'd bite other kids... occasionally, he'd even bite himself.

We tried everything to break him of this habit.
We asked nicely.
We told him sternly, "No!"
We slapped his little hand.

Absolutely nothing worked.

So, one day, when he had bit his mom and left a nasty bruise for something like the 10th time that week, I finally did the only thing we could think of.

I bit him back.

And you know what? It worked.
That was the end of the biting.

Asking him to stop, telling him to stop... until he actually felt what he was doing to others, he wouldn't stop. But when he did? When he knew what it felt like?

I was thinking about this story yesterday, wishing that this same dynamic would never have to play out among adults, here in this blog-o-sphere of ours. 

Unfortunately, occasionally, it does.

And that's all I'm going to say about that.

I've been feeling good lately... which would be un-noteworthy were it not such a departure from the recent "feeling like crap!" that's been more characteristic.

I've been sleeping better, feeling a lot more energy (both mental, emotional and physical) and just all around in a good place.

I attribute this to a couple of things:

Naps
and
the Gospel.

First, the naps. What a game-changer! HT to my Ass. Pastor who gave me the idea to crawl into the back of my Mazda Tribute every (working) day for a 20 minute siesta around noon. That's it- just 20 minutes on my back, timer on my phone set, eyes closed. The difference has been amazing- a cascading spiral of positive results. I feel refreshed and energized for the afternoon, so I get more done. In getting more done, I feel better at home, more able to be present and helpful to my beautiful wife. All of that leads to being able to actually turn things off and rest at night. Which leads to better sleep and a better day, and so on... Good stuff.

So, all in all, these past few days have been great. I can't tell you how wonderful it was yesterday to be able to answer the question "How are you doing" with a very sincere "Great!" (I think I may have even gotten carried away and answered one person with "Fabulous!"... yeah... maybe overshot a bit on that one).

The other thing leading to warm fuzzies for Bob has been wrapping up our series on How the Gospel Shapes Us. Its been fabulous (!) to work through my own thoughts on this (heavily, I say heavily influenced by Tim Keller's material) and not only preach to the community, but preach to myself. I think God has used these weeks to grow me, straighten me out a bit on some things, and just generally encourage me...

Here's a bit of what I preached yesterday:

We’ve talked a lot over the past few weeks about how the Gospel pushes us towards leaving our idols- all our functional saviors and points us towards Jesus- the only one we can trust to save us, to bring us joy.

The problem is, it’s easy to say “Jesus is my Savior.” But when we start teasing out all the implications of the Gospel in our lives, we begin to see that often practically speaking, either we’re depending on other things to get us through the day, or we’re doing the right things, but for the wrong reasons.
The church I grew up in went through a period where they couldn’t seem to keep a pastor. They “resigned” the pastor who planted the church because he was getting too old, the man who came after him died on the tennis court- just dropped dead one day. The guy who replaced him abruptly left after two years. But the guy who followed him… He nearly got himself shot.
A guy and a gal I had known growing up in youth group, got married, and she later became the worship director of the church. The guy was always starting businesses, making money… One day he left the house, realized he had forgotten something at home, turned around and went back, and came home to find his wife, the worship director, in the very act of, uh, breaking her marriage vows with the pastor. So Doug, that was his name, went to the closet, grabbed a shotgun, and very nearly shot the pastor as he ran out of the house.
That pastor lost his job, lost his family- a wife and two girls, and now sells Volkswagens at a dealership in San Diego. I think about him all the time.
And I tell you that story to lead up to a confession of sorts.
Since I’ve become a pastor, I find that I struggle with very different things than I did before I got married and became a pastor. For instance, I don’t look at porn. Now, before you think I’m bragging, let me clarify- I don’t look at porn for all the wrong reasons.
The truth is, every time I’m tempted to do so, I begin to think about how much it would cost me if I were to get caught. The damage it would do in my marriage is huge in my mind. But also the fact that even though the elders and I could probably work through even something like that, I’m still conditioned to respond like I was taught in the churches of my youth, where, pastors were assumed to be “above reproach” (which they seemed to understand as “inhumanly perfect”) and so when issues would arise, pastors would disappear- they would resign, be fired, etc. And in my mind, a huge part of why I don’t look at porn is because- I don’t want to lose my job. It’s not that I’m not tempted- but I hear the voices in my head “Bad pastor! Bad pastor!” I see my old pastor in my head and I stay away.
So what’s the problem there? Well… right choice, wrong motive.
Let me be even more transparent here and this is the confession: See, my idol is what you all think of me. It’s so important to me, that when I have an off Sunday, and I think everyone went home thinking about how badly I sucked, I’m devastated. I can’t sleep. When someone leaves this community, or criticizes my pastoring? That’s hard for me.
Why? Because, the truth is, in many ways, Jesus isn’t my Savior. You are. Your approval is my functional Savior. Now, that idol occasionally, coincidentally pushes me towards doing the right thing. The problem is, whenever I come up against a struggle, a temptation and I choose to do the right thing because I need to feed my idol, because I need to protect my functional Savior of your approval of me, in trying to become a more obedient Christ follower, I have in effect, through nurturing that idol, nurtured evil in my heart. Twisted.

rest here

I had my first Parent-Teacher conference this morning.

Apparently, Jack was the only one in his preschool class who could say his memory verse this month :) (Gen 1:31)

That's my pastor's kid!

I can totally see Jack teaching one of our Theology Pubs
someday, can't you?

"The whole narrative says 'We were created for community!"

"Hmm... That's a good point..."

"Well. sure... but that's really more of a question of epistemology, don't you think?"

I hit the wall again on Tuesday...

I have found over the last almost four years now that I cycle through these times of loving the way I need to do ministry and hating it- this nomadic, rootless all-over-town, mostly-in-Starbucks and other coffee places existence.

There are times when I think back to being chained to a particular spot, four walls that never change and I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity to work wherever and the changing scenery.

There are other days when it either doesn't change enough or I long just for a sense of permanency and continuity- a desk that is mine, a place more conducive to thought, prayer, study, reading...

This happens every once in awhile- I'll be driving out of my street first thing in the morning and on days when I don't necessarily have a lot of appointments or have blocked out for study, I'll need to decide where I am going to work... and I'll be hit with this overwhelming desire to never see the inside of a starbucks again. My mind will work through the different options for places to work (too far, too loud, no reliable wi-fi...) and I'll end up driving back and forth while I struggle to land somewhere.

I'm not describing this well.

Let me start again. Every once in awhile I move from happiness and general contentment with my roving work environs through ambivalence straight through to stark raving terror at the thought of having to spend one more second of my life in the loud, jostle-y, "How's your day going so far?", bitter coffee and hard seat hell that is Starbucks.

Yeah... that captures it a little better.

(We actually have an office. It's a small, maybe 10x8 room where we have all our Sunday morning crap piled impossibly high over and around a single desk/chair and two other chairs. It's good for the occasional quiet moment, counseling with a couple or our weekly staff meeting (being myself, Dustin and Chris, our Ass. Pastor). What it's not good for is much else, being as there's no internet. We're getting ready to do budget '08, and I think I need to make a plug for internet at the office... There's a wireless provider there that will do something like $30 a month, so, not too outrageous...)

All that to say, Tuesday... I worked in a Kinkos. :)

(yeah.. the following doesn't really go anywhere, or even make a ton of sense. I think I'm blogging at this point to prevent bringing this level of thinking/effervescent writing to any sermon prep that might otherwise occur today)

Ugh. I think if you were to take all of the posts I have written here over the last few months, throw them in a blender and set it to puree', you'd have a glimpse of how I've been feeling today. Good, bad, tired...

I actually slept through the night the last two nights, both with the help of an Ambien, and I'm just not sure if the sluggish, stuck-in-first-gear thing I have going on today is a result of chemical-sleep being a poor substitute for the real deal, cumulative effects of said chemicals, or just a really, really busy weekend. I lost my patience sometime last night, and I'm just beginning to feel it coming back- but it's tenuous! Oh, so tenuous...

Speaking of, this weekend, particularly this Sunday was busy and great... and busy.

Saturday was a fun kid's b-day party (who knew these things were mostly mom events? C'mon guys!) followed by a Community Dinner that evening. Man- sometimes I'm convinced, we pack more people into houses for these events than we should (we had about 60 or more folks at this one). We need to start considering east-side/west-side or some other configuration before we all end up on the evening news because we plunge as one through a floor to our deaths in a big ol' community heap (hopefully, if it happens, it happens after dinner. We have some good food at these things).

Saturday nights, I never sleep well. Anyone else "What if I don't wake up on time?" anxiety? I only get it one day a week, but man...
Anyway, up at 4 or so, polishing sermon till 7, help get kids up and fed, leave for the office, pack the stuff up, set up the Lab, have a great gathering (more on that in a minute), hang out for conversations after, Elder meeting from 1-4 or so, race home, grab the family and head to home group.
And yes, I was a little loopy for homegroup. Luckily, we were just doing supper together.

This Sunday was great at Evergreen- and the best part is that it was great for reasons that had nothing to do with me. Underprepared, overtired... I preached on how the Gospel shapes us into a worshiping community, and that without truly worshiping God, nothing really changes in our lives. We simply trade one idol for another...

The most beautiful part was the response in worship- both in interacting with the text (including some good pushback during the discussion) but also simply in singing. The band played the absolute best they ever have. Our band sits when they play- we try to stay away from the whole performance thing... so, when I say "best" I don't mean flashy- I mean some beautiful arrangements, some great texture, an awesome new song written by one of our worship leaders- it was the best music we've ever had on a Sunday, bar none.

And people responded. When we stood at the end to sing the Doxology, people sang with gusto, which for a fairly contemplative community such as ours was really something. It felt like a great response to what we had heard from 1st Peter- that all our lives, all our being, all our worship belong to God- "All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ."

I love being part of something that works on that level... especially when I know it's the combination of other people's gifts and the Holy Spirit that get us there.

I'm tired... too tired to be creative, really.
The sleep thing has been rough the past week or so, even with artificial help.
The last few weeks have been tiring ministry-wise.

So here are some thoughts along those lines from the archives- from about a year ago:

The Sea

"We work in the confidence that God is able to give us the gifts and graces needed for ministry in our time and place." -Will Willimon, Pastor

"Tell Archippus: "See to it that you complete the work you have received in the Lord."- Col 4:17

When I read the Willimon quote above, the first thing I think is "Oh, I certainly hope so."

And as for the quote from Colossians...
Archippus was the one who (apparently) was left as the pastor when Epaphras, who planted the church in Colossae left to be with Paul.
A little pastoral pick-me-up from Paul there. "See to it that you complete the work you have received in the Lord."
Love that...

Gregory of Nazianzen was called by his people to be their pastor, but in his mind it was "too high." He wrote of his reluctance to bear what he saw as the "commission to guide and govern souls... especially in times like these."
So he ran away. Ordained on Christmas, it wasn't too long after that he fled out to the desert.
But his people begged him to return.
He waited, and waited... and by the time he came back, his people were so angry at him that they refused to come hear him preach at Easter.
In 362 he wrote a letter of explanation to his community, explaining his feelings and his actions. He said pastors are like sailors "who cross the wide oceans and constantly contend with wind and waves." His preference, he told them, would be to stay ashore, and plow a short but pleasant furrow, saluting at a respectful distance the sea and its gains.

Will Willimon writes about Gregory that in the end, he went back because he realized "his people needed him and because he was more afraid of disobeying God than he was of being a pastor."

From one who's never had too much interest in the short but pleasant furrow, but still occasionally gets overwhelmed by the tossing waves, I'm glad to hear of people like Archippus and Gregory.

Their stories give me context- an understanding that the seasickness is normal. Occasionally I understand the call of the desert over that of the waves. Solid ground vs. shifting sea. But that's illusory. The sands shift just as much as the sea. And not to say that pastoral ministry is the sea and all else is small but pleasant furrows in the midst of a desert. Pastoral ministry is my sea... what God has called me to.

And so, even in the midst of a bit of disequilibrium, there's nothing I'd rather be doing as my life's work than helping people spiritually, teaching, counseling... helping these people, loving and teaching these people.

So we got everything out of the elevator.

We left a note at the office asking to be called when they got there and I got the call about 10:30 or so (they tend to keep funny hours at our office building). He promised he'd call back when he knew the time the elevator repair person would arrive, so I could be there to get our stuff.

But...

After about an hour or so, the call I got was "Okay. We got everything out and piled it in front of your office door!"

Yeah?

So, here I am racing across town to our office, imagining the other tenants of the building enjoying the impromptu give-away of guitars and music stands on the fourth floor of our building...

But everything was fine.
I worked up a nice little sweat running up the stairs and then loading everything back into the office. Turned out to be a fun little adventure...

In fact, yesterday in general was a pretty good day where I got a ton of jive done.

More and more, I'm coming to appreciate rough ministry days- days when things don't go well or when I don't "perform" up to my own expectations. They used to create an inertia and despondency in me that de-motivated. I'm not sure what changed, but now- I usually wake up the next morning ready to hit things hard, and not only get back on the horse, but smack the horse around a few times and show it who's boss.

Okay... maybe not the best analogy.

But you get what I'm saying...

Aye carumba... what a day.
This morning was semi-nightmarish for me. Murphy's Law Sunday.

Every once in awhile Sundays turn into a Fellini-esque dream sequence of oddities and tragedy... this one started with no small amount of sleep deprivation from the past few nights as Jack has been waking up, and waking up, and waking up again....

We got away to Welches up on Mt Hood this last week, and while the family time was great and needed, I just didn't get the time I wanted to think through and work on sermon for this morning... so, in spite of Jack doing his thing multiple times last night, I was still up at five trying to polish a message that never quite got there. I hate feeling like I'm preaching a first draft. Hate it.

Anyway, the real excitement of the day started in getting to the office and beginning to load the equipment from the office on to the elevator. The way it works is this- ride the elevator up to the fourth floor where our rented office is, turn the little key that locks the elevator there with the doors open, and then load it up.

Easy, right?

Not when the elevator door decides to close all on it's own halfway through loading... with the key turned to "off"... and Bob standing open-mouthed in the hall.

Crap!... and no, banging on the door didn't work. Ditto trying to pry it open. Ditto cursing.

So, with all the kids ministry equipment, most of the sound equipment, music stands, coffee pot, bass amp, etc sitting on the fourth floor, we grabbed what was left and headed over to the Lab. Luckily, we had enough sound equipment to cobble together a working system, the kids made do, the Lab employees were nice enough to brew a couple pots of coffee for us, and things went relatively okay.

I know intellectually that stuff like that doesn't matter. Shouldn't matter. 
But man, that kind of thing throws me off. Tough for me to recover, feel at ease and just enjoy the morning.

The worst part is that even as I am focusing on teasing out the implications of the Gospel for our community, I know, I know, that feeling this way is ridiculous. I'm not justified by Sunday morning performance- be it comedy of errors or Spurgeon-quality getting my preach on.
In the long run, it just doesn't matter.

But the truth is, I never feel "at ease"... at least not past the next Sunday that goes oh, so crapily. And I really need to figure that out.

The book of Hebrews says "So there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God." The idea is that we no longer rest on one day a week, but on every day. We rest in the finished work of Christ.

I've been realizing over the last few weeks that my struggles with sleep and feeling rested physically are, in a way, pointing to me towards something deeper.
The fact is, I just don't feel at rest, at ease the way I should. I'm not that I ever have, at least for any length of time.

In years past, I chalked it up to once. You know, once I get married, once I'm a dad, a pastor, have "my" own church... then.
Yeah...
Doesn't work like that.

I go to bed just thinking about all the things I want and need to do tomorrow. I can't remember the last time I felt done, you know? I find myself daydreaming about what it would feel like to be completely happy with everything as it is, just as it is, and myself able to feel like I can simply lean back and relax into it. Not that I'm not ecstatically happy with this life God has given me...  because I am.

But I can't help thinking on some level, if I was really understanding the Gospel, the rest that Jesus provides- rest from having to earn anything with God, from having to justify myself to anyone, rest from having to  prove anything...

Tonight I'm having dinner and drinks with Alan Hirsch at a pub here in Portland. Alan is co-author of the amazing, life-changing (for me) The Shaping of Things to Come and author of the Forgotten Ways (which I'm half-way through)...

I'll let you know how it goes- should be around 5 or 6 of us, including Alan- so a nice "intimate" group.

I'm thinking through a follow up to what's below (that I published this last February), so I'll reprint this now to prime the pump a bit...

From Feb, 07:

I'm not sure if I'll even publish this, but I think I need to write it anyway to get it out.

I nearly cried just now.

I signed up when I got here to meet with one of the "sages" that they have at the convention. Eugene Peterson and his wife and Stuart Briscoe. Stuart had an opening that fit for me, so I grabbed it. To borrow some language from John Eldredge, I think the time was "part of my story."

Being in San Diego occasionally brings things up for me. Dad things. It's where I grew up, and where my dad, with whom I have not spoken in 5 or so years lives. A nutshell kind of explanation for that is that relationship has never been real important to my dad, leastwise not relationship with me. When we couldn't get him to come to our wedding, when he didn't call when my first child (or second for that matter) was born, I made the decision that I just needed to stop hoping. All that was getting me was slightly more hurt at every missed life event, every milestone, every day that went by without communication from him. I just had to cut him loose from any expectation that he would ever do or say or be anything for or to me.

I dealt largely with the pain of that through the birth of my son Jack. I found (and find) great healing in doing for him what I wish had been done for me.

But I'm finding that that dynamic, which has worked well in terms of dadness has worked less well in terms of mentor. I realize the two are intricately connected, and yet I'm also coming to realize that I can partially heal one by being Dad to my son, but the other...

Another odd dynamic in my life is that whether through the internet or in real life, I have these people who are seeking me out. It's not overwhelming (though I apologize if you've sent me an email with some questions in it about life in ministry/church stuff and I haven't gotten back to you. I put those in the "to answer" folder with the best of intentions), but it is noticeable.

And I'm happy to give a shot to mentoring and coaching others. In fact, long term, I feel as though it's what God has shaped me for. I think in 20 years, I'll be primarily a pastor of pastors, and I'm very much looking forward to that.

But if the feeling of needing dad has been lessened through the dynamic of having a son, the feeling of needing a mentor... well, that's a different story.

I was thinking some of these thoughts before meeting with Stuart, wondering if it was really something I wanted to get into, somewhere I really wanted to go.

I'm not sure I had a choice, really.

Ruth Haley Barton today said "What is under the surface matters, and solitude helps us name it" and I'm realizing that this convention, with all these people and for all the noise and activity, genuinely represents an experience of solitude for me, being for me a stepping out of my routine, a chance to slow down and think. But that's another post...

So, I went there with him. I described the feeling I have in this area that I have recently named again for the first time in years: that God is thwarting me. That as I have traveled from place to place to place, from ministry situation to ministry situation, always looking for a mentor that God was always and in all ways saying no. That He was willing to give me every good gift except two- a mentor and an explanation why.

And Stuart, God bless 'im, became part of the story. He told me that "mentor" really isn't a biblical term and I should lower my expectations/ideals in this area.

He had some really good things to say, all with good solid biblical thinking behind it, but the long and short of it was that he told me to give up.

And I thought, "Of course. How could he possibly have said anything else?"

We talked some more, a bit about ministry and marriage and he continued to give me good, sound wisdom and in doing so completely undid everything he had said earlier by giving me the smallest taste, the briefest glimpse of what it's like to have a mentor. Someone who has walked the same path already, someone who has made all the mistakes and cares enough to share wisdom, to ask questions and to not expect any mutuality... to ask nothing in return.

I smiled, I nodded, I tried hard to keep from tearing up.

I went to shake his hand and he gripped mine very tightly in both of his and prayed for me.

I was so close to losing it I nearly ran out.

So... I sit here wondering "How long, oh Lord?"... and renewed in my determination that if someone thinks I have something to offer them, that if they think I'm that worthy of seeking out, I need to treat that as a gift and honor it with whatever I can- with whatever I have to give. Not all of me, certainly- most of that is reserved for others and for Other. But something.

And maybe, just maybe, if I pay it forward enough...

   

 

I'm not sure if I'll even publish this, but I think I need to write it anyway to get it out.

I nearly cried just now.

I signed up when I got here to meet with one of the "sages" that they have at the convention. Eugene Peterson and his wife and Stuart Briscoe. Stuart had an opening that fit for me, so I grabbed it. To borrow some language from John Eldredge, I think the time was "part of my story."

Being in San Diego occasionally brings things up for me. Dad things. It's where I grew up, and where my dad, with whom I have not spoken in 5 or so years lives. A nutshell kind of explanation for that is that relationship has never been real important to my dad, leastwise not relationship with me. When we couldn't get him to come to our wedding, when he didn't call when my first child (or second for that matter) was born, I made the decision that I just needed to stop hoping. All that was getting me was slightly more hurt at every missed life event, every milestone, every day that went by without communication from him. I just had to cut him loose from any expectation that he would ever do or say or be anything for or to me.

I dealt largely with the pain of that through the birth of my son Jack. I found (and find) great healing in doing for him what I wish had been done for me.

But I'm finding that that dynamic, which has worked well in terms of dadness has worked less well in terms of mentor. I realize the two are intricately connected, and yet I'm also coming to realize that I can partially heal one by being Dad to my son, but the other...

Another odd dynamic in my life is that whether through the internet or in real life, I have these people who are seeking me out. It's not overwhelming (though I apologize if you've sent me an email with some questions in it about life in ministry/church stuff and I haven't gotten back to you. I put those in the "to answer" folder with the best of intentions), but it is noticeable.

And I'm happy to give a shot to mentoring and coaching others. In fact, long term, I feel as though it's what God has shaped me for. I think in 20 years, I'll be primarily a pastor of pastors, and I'm very much looking forward to that.

But if the feeling of needing dad has been lessened through the dynamic of having a son, the feeling of needing a mentor... well, that's a different story.

I was thinking some of these thoughts before meeting with Stuart, wondering if it was really something I wanted to get into, somewhere I really wanted to go.

I'm not sure I had a choice, really.

Ruth Haley Barton today said "What is under the surface matters, and solitude helps us name it" and I'm realizing that this convention, with all these people and for all the noise and activity, genuinely represents an experience of solitude for me, being for me a stepping out of my routine, a chance to slow down and think. But that's another post...

So, I went there with him. I described the feeling I have in this area that I have recently named again for the first time in years: that God is thwarting me. That as I have traveled from place to place to place, from ministry situation to ministry situation, always looking for a mentor that God was always and in all ways saying no. That He was willing to give me every good gift except two- a mentor and an explanation why.

And Stuart, God bless 'im, became part of the story. He told me that "mentor" really isn't a biblical term and I should lower my expectations/ideals in this area.

He had some really good things to say, all with good solid biblical thinking behind it, but the long and short of it was that he told me to give up.

And I thought, "Of course. How could he possibly have said anything else?"

We talked some more, a bit about ministry and marriage and he continued to give me good, sound wisdom and in doing so completely undid everything he had said earlier by giving me the smallest taste, the briefest glimpse of what it's like to have a mentor. Someone who has walked the same path already, someone who has made all the mistakes and cares enough to share wisdom, to ask questions and to not expect any mutuality... to ask nothing in return.

I smiled, I nodded, I tried hard to keep from tearing up.

I went to shake his hand and he gripped mine very tightly in both of his and prayed for me.

I was so close to losing it I nearly ran out.

So... I sit here wondering "How long, oh Lord?"... and renewed in my determination that if someone thinks I have something to offer them, that if they think I'm that worthy of seeking out, I need to treat that as a gift and honor it with whatever I can- with whatever I have to give. Not all of me, certainly- most of that is reserved for others and for Other. But something.

And maybe, just maybe, if I pay it forward enough...

It's Friday and I'm about to post something real... you know, like an actual post. Not just a youtube video or one of my myriad cheap shots at the good Dr. John MacArthur.

But while we wait, would you all do me a big favor?

Could you click here and "favorite" this here blog? (You probably have to "sign in" to technorati)

I'd sure appreciate it!

(Oh- and the next post? About Paula and Randy White AND Rob Bell! Ooooh! Stick around!)

I've had a few recently... and they've been like that cool breeze on a hot summer night- restorative.

Moment 1- This last Sunday was good. I have felt for months now (at least 4 or 5) that I've been at about a 50% level in my communication. Both the preaching, the preparation, the prayer involved, everything.

Sunday, I felt like, through no virtue of my own, God allowed me to get back up in the high 80's :) I wouldn't say I hit it out of the park, but it was solid. I often pray before Sundays "God, please just let me preach." And this week... He did.

We were finishing out our series on the Psalms, and I was preaching the tiny little Psalm 131. I got the pleasure of preaching "Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself,
      like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk.
      Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me."

The manuscript (for those who are into things like that) is here. It turned out to be a good call to all of us, myself included, to think about the amount of pride in our lives, to strive to move past an infantile neurotic dependency on God and move towards a more mature trust and a hope that centers in God Himself rather than God meeting our every whim (I used the phrase "cosmic Breast... and yeah, it provoked some giggling). Interestingly enough, the pastor of a large church in town who's currently on sabbatical showed up that morning. I'm fairly sure I didn't look over in that direction the whole time...
The sermon itself was nothing special, but... the morning just worked. And to be honest, with how I've been feeling about things lately, I needed it to.  It might be hard for people to understand, but it feels to me like a gift from God when these words/movements/reflections I've labored over, and sometimes feel good about and sometimes not, nevertheless connect, and I feel like I've finally gotten on the same page as the Holy Spirit. That what I'm saying on a particular morning somehow coincides with what God is doing in our community and the Word gets preached...
Like I say... a gift.

Moment 2- Last night I had a perfect moment. One of those bliss instances where you just know- all is well and all manner of things are well.
I was, oddly enough, at an alumni function for Western Seminary. There was nothing uniquely cool about it- your standard church-type event with sodas, food, puppet show for the kids... but it was out on the lawn of Western, a place I love, and though there were few few alums that I knew or had been to school with, I got to see and talk with a number of professors and other Seminary faculty that I enjoy...
But mostly, it was just that my beautiful wife was there, my two beautiful kids were there, and we were sitting out on a lawn in perfect 70 or so degree weather on a late August night eating hot dogs, talking, just enjoying. I loved, loved, loved introducing my family to the men and women who had taught me at Seminary- I guess I am just so damn PROUD of them, this wife and two kids I get to live life with. Sometimes, I can't believe the way that God has blessed me.
And at one point, sitting there, breathing the cooling air deeply, I realized how much I was enjoying myself- how happy I was.  It sounds weird, but I can't recall a more blissful moment in  years. It was an absolute gift from God, that moment.

But, like all moments, it ends. This one, when it got on towards the kids' bedtime and they left (I was heading to guys night from there) and someone emailed me and I became aware that my last post had hit some folks wrong...

Moment 3- The discussion following this post kind of colored this morning and day for me. I realize we can always be MORE careful in what we say... I thought I had been, but probably not careful enough. Anyway,  there was that, the kids (those beautiful kids!) were up super early this morning (they are significantly less beautiful at 5:15 in the am), I missed time alone, thinking and praying... was stupid enough to venture over to Team Pyro, forgetting that they don't actually want people to answer questions they ask (at least people who have made the mistake of mentioning John MacArthur once in their comments and so received a life-time ban... sheesh), had a couple of meetings where I was certainly not at the top of my pastoral game, was feeling grumpy and out-of-sorts when...

I came across this blog post. Paul Walker has been blogging through the Wikiklesia book project that I submitted a chapter for. To be honest,  though I knew he was doing this, author by author, one chapter at a time, I hadn't really said anything or linked it... mainly, because I thought my chapter kind of sucked. I mean, I meant everything I said, but it was so late in coalescing in my head that I felt like it was poorly written, poorly structured... I honestly thought most people would think of it as a throw-away chapter in the midst of some really good stuff- and would say so. 
Whether he was being diplomatically nice or genuinely liked it, I don't know. But I do know that when, tired and frustrated, I sat down to work here before our theology pub tonight and came across his post... it was what I needed to read.
I guess it was nice to just read that someone actually liked something I said, you know? We probably all need that every now and again, and it's particularly effective in helping to turn a bad day around, especially one when we've allowed silly things to get us down. So thanks Paul...

And thanks God for those little moments of grace- undeserved gifts from You that break into the frustration of this world and the grind of our lives like manna... just what we need, just when we need it.

   

No, it's not more stuff about Team Pyro... relax.

Almost 20 years ago, when I was still in college and just starting out in ministry, I worked for a youth pastor named Tim. Tim told me a story once about how, in High School, he took the ACT and scored a 9. He promptly began bragging to all his friends about this bodacious score, thinking that it was a 9 out of 10.
Eventually one of his friends pulled him aside and told him it was actually 9 out of 36.
Yeah.
He felt kind of dumb.

Recently, I moved to upgrade my life insurance from a 20 year $250,000 to a 30 year $500,000 policy. I was upset to find out they wouldn't write it for me, (well, they would, just very, very expensively). I had to settle for a 20 year $400,000 policy (for now). The culprit?
Cholesterol.

Apparently, I have a level of 243.
"243? What's normal?" I asked
"They want you to be under 200."
"well, 243 doesn't sound that bad... don't know what the big deal is" I mumbled.

In my head, somehow, from somewhere, had crept in the idea that some people are walking around with scores in the 5 and 600's. To me, 243 sounded "slightly elevated", you know... no big deal. Maybe just some minor tweaking of the diet...

Well, I did some reading and, apparently, it's a big deal. No one is walking around with a 600... and if they are, they won't be for long. Where I'm at is officially "high" with a doubled risk of heart attack and headed towards real problems.

So... I've been eating fiber. Lots of fiber (no, no noticeable physical side effects- thanks for asking). Cutting down on the butter and fat (I love butter!)... I actually tasted the most hellacious fiber-rich, organic bran muffin the other day. Made it two bites and was done. There are other ways to get fiber.

Anyway... The goal is first to go back and get that $500,000, 30 year policy in a year. 
I really want to be covered through my 60's.
Then the goal is to live long enough to never collect.

If at first you don't succeed...

"Our publishing committee discussed your book proposal today, and unfortunately decided not to acquire it for publication. Everyone on the committee thought the writing was first rate and on an important topic. But at this stage in our development, XXXX XXXX is not well equipped to market books to church leaders, which is obviously the primary market for your book.  I wish we were because I really wanted us to publish your book. But without a good marketing and sales plan in place to reach this market, we would be doing you a disservice by publishing your book and not giving it the marketing and sales support it deserves.

 

I think given the right publisher, you should have no trouble finding a home for your book. The obvious choices are Zondervan, Baker, and InterVarsity, but you might also consider Crossway, Moody, and B&H Publishing. Wherever  your book lands, I fully expect it to do well and for its important message to be well received.

 

Warmly,

XXX XXX"

Erg. Ah, well.. anyone know anyone at Zondervan, Baker, InterVarsity, Crossway, Moody, or B&H Publishing?? :)

Mad world...

This last week has just been... crazy.

Working with a couple through some heavy marital issues, considering renting our place and trying to move to something with a yard (and so looking at more houses than I care to remember), between our two gatherings our biggest Sunday attendance ever (not including that one freak Sunday with the 7 baby dedications and everyone's families showing up), Mom's heart attack...

Yeah- my mom had a heart attack night before last. All is well... I think she's a little too tough and more than a little too determined to go with us and the kids to the beach rental house she got next week to let a little thing like a heart attack slow her down. She's in St Vincent's near us here and she and her new stent will hopefully be home tomorrow.

In the midst of all that I'm fighting off a head cold and feeling simply craptacular.

Happened to read 2 Chron 20 this morning: "So Jehoshaphat's kingdom was at peace, for his God had given him rest on every side."

Yes, please. Amen.

Hey look at me! Or don't...

Don't freak out, mom...

So- I'm at the gym yesterday, doing my normal routine. About 20 minutes on the elliptical, some upper body machines and then 15-20 min in the dry sauna. First thing I noticed when I walked into the sauna was that it seemed a bit hotter than usual. But nobody else seemed to mind, so...

I could only take about 15 minutes and went to hit the shower. Hung up my towel and shorts and started to cool down under the water.

That's when I realized there was a problem... I could tell I was going into shock.

The whole dizziness, tunnel-vision thing- not to mention I felt like I might puke any second. I leaned on the wall under the water and just tried to keep it together. After a few minutes of that, I sat down in the next shower stall over- the one with the bench for the old dudes.

At some point I must have fainted because I woke up on the floor of that shower (got a nice scrape on my head, presumably from hitting the the tile on the way down).

Here's a good tip for you- don't have a heart attack or anything else potentially life threatening at the gym, or at least in the gym shower. No one will notice, much less ask if you need help. I'm assuming that if I had clothes on, there might have been an offer of help, but get in trouble wearing only a towel? Totally on your own, man.

I got back onto the bench and sat there for awhile, yawning uncontrollably, trying not to fall over sideways again.

After I got home and got appropriate sympathy from my spousal unit, the rest of the night was fine.

Well, until the extreme, intense shooting pain in my neck, that is.

Seems I pulled something. Can hardly move my neck. Took one of the muscle relaxers that Dustin gave me (yeah- he's my pusher), and that knocked me out pretty well- but doesn't seemed to have actually done anything for my neck.

Heading to an emergency chiro appointment in an hour, so we'll see what he can do to for me.

At least I have clothes on now.

(I wanted to do some good posting today- don't know if that will happen. Dagnabbit.)

the Spiritual Formation of Leadership Choices...

I've been thinking through issues of spiritual formation recently... mainly in terms of how we do whatever it is we do as a community, and the forming impact it has on us. Whatever we do is spiritually forming, isn't it? The choices we make, the activities we pursue or neglect, the words we say and how we say them- all of it goes into making us the persons we are becoming and the community we will be...

So my question (which honestly, I've been thinking about on and off throughout the last four years, thanks in part to both Doug Pagitt and his formerly titled Re-Imagining Spiritual Formation and Brian McLaren who was the first person to to tell me that the way we as a community worshiped was just as spiritually forming as the fact that we did worship) has been: "how do our choices as a community impact the community we are becoming?" And I've started with thinking through our worship gathering, simply because that's the easiest piece to consider and make changes- how does our use (or lack thereof) of silence form us? How does the amount we pray together and what we pray form us? What about the interaction we do and how we do it? Does the way we do "sermons" form us just as much as the content of the discussions themselves?

But this post isn't really about that...

petering out...

Do you ever get the sense you've Peter Principled yourself out? The Peter Principle says everyone rises to his or her level of incompetence, that is, that when you know how to do a job, you'll be promoted or given additional duties until you reach a place where you no longer know what you are doing... and there you'll stay.

If I had to be perfectly honest, I'd say that's pretty much how I'm feeling right now in just about every area of my life. Pastoring, being a dad, being a husband... interpersonal relationships and general life skills. I feel like any heat I might have had to throw got thrown a good while ago.

It's not as though my life is particularly difficult- I don't have many challenges- considerably fewer than a lot of people. But what I do have tends to stymie me. My own inabilities seem perfectly matched to the challenges I face.

Or more likely, they create them...
And if my particular challenges and created by my particular inabilities... erg.

So I'm praying- Praying that God will help me gain new sensitivities and skills and grow as a husband, a father, a pastor. Probably in that order too.

Sometimes I just hate the fact that it seems like the only way to really learn how to do something is to fail at it.

The secret to success in ministry...

I haven't exactly been hitting it out of the park lately... spiritually speaking that is.

Kind of in a slump.

I was sitting here praying this morning (after procrastinating, thinking about other things, looking at Apple blogs, etc) when I remembered a tidbit from way back when. While in Bible college I had interviewed one of my professors who was also a pastor. It was for a ministry class, and really, the only thing I remember him saying was his answer to "So what's the secret for success in ministry?"
Without skipping a beat he said simply "Success in ministry is entirely dependent on your personal walk with God."

So, like I say, sitting here, thinking about that this morning. Truth be told, that little sentence has been running through my head for almost twenty years now...

"Success in ministry is entirely dependent on your personal walk with God."

Really? Is that a fair statement to make? Is the whole thing down to me, and my spirituality?
Even if it's not entirely dependent... it MUST play some role, right?

Chris, our associate pastor recently told me one of his favorite staff meeting moments was when we were talking through a nice long chain of things that had gone wrong and I finally just looked at him and Dustin and said, "Alright... which one of you guys is looking at porn?"

Okay- maybe there isn't that strict cause and effect between time spent reading Scripture/praying/steering clear of sin and good things happening... or is there?

Couldn't that just devolve down into a Christian Pastor's version of karma?

"Success in ministry is entirely dependent on your personal walk with God."

I guess there are really only three options- it is, it isn't or it is somewhat.
And it probably matters how you define success. For me, success is when I do that which I'm supposed to be doing in ministry- loving people, loving God, helping other people to love God... teaching them well, counseling them wisely, pastoring with integrity.

How could my personal stuff NOT play into that mix?

"Success in ministry is entirely dependent on your personal walk with God."

So- what do you think?

Is it true?

Am I screwed?

wayback...

From June 6th, 2004-
"starting a new blog here...

We had a baby in March... and then planted a church in April. While everything seems to have panned out okay, I'm fairly sure that we'll be looking back on this someday and wondering what the heck we were thinking.

I don't know how it worked: I left (uh... that's a euphemism) my job at the end of December. Amy quit working at the end of February. It seems like we'd be flat broke, be we're not. We actually have more money in the bank than at the end of December. God used a wonderful combination of severance, unemployment, support from others... and who knows what to keep us afloat.

It's been a pretty amazing adventure. Everyone said it would be hard- in fact, a few church planters I spoke with were downright discouraging. But the fact is, it's been okay- even fun. I don't think I've ever enjoyed ministry more. This is what I was made to do."

Convicted!

Good conversation with someone from Evergreen yesterday... the end result being that I'm feeling convicted of my (lately) anemic prayers...

When we first started this evergreen thing, man... I was a prayer ninja. I had to be. We had just bought a house, had a baby on the way, the whole church thing was this tenuous gossamer construct that seemed like if a wind just slightly too strong were to blow on it...

I prayed.

And it's not that I don't pray now, but...

That edge has certainly gone.

The question is, whatever made me think that living prayerfully was any less important now,
four years on? That relationships with my neighbors, with my wife, that praying for those connecting to our community who didn't yet know Jesus, for God's leading for us as a people... that any of that was one iota less urgent or vital than on the day we "launched"???

I'm just as convinced as the day we started: God loves new churches and He even loves four-year-old ones and He wants to use them to be transformative agents in their city- to show what shalom means, what difference Jesus makes, to bring life and forgiveness and the truth of the Gospel to all people everywhere. And as amazed as I am that God would want to use me and our little community in that, I'm even more amazed that when I'm not careful, I can easily get distracted, easily become complacent and too easily lose sight of what I'm/we're really here for.

MIA...

I am at this very moment, missing our Maundy Thursday gathering.

I had planned on being there- we're actually doing two this year- east side and west side.
But...

Tonight, before, during and after dinner Jack was having a Tasmanian devil, Def-Con 5 Melt Down (which of course brought Janie right up to Def-Con 3 herself). Amy and I spent dinner just staring at each other, thinking the neighbors must have been thinking we were practicing our best torture/waterboarding techniques on these two screaming children...

So I sent Amy to the Maundy Thursday gathering by herself. I didn't want to risk it with the Drama King and his protege'... I'm at the gym, trying to take out a bit of frustration in a semi-constructive way. The kids are in the Kids Club being someone else's problem (and probably being perfect angels).

Simon Webbe on the iPhone is helping a lot.
It irks me to miss this though. I love maundy Thursday- we do a very community-oriented communion with good bread, good wine, good focus on loving each other (as was Jesus's point that last nightsith the disciples before being betrayed) and good conversations with each other. A world away from our somber Good Friday gatherings... I'm bummed that a lot of people skip it... I think it makes Good Friday even more meaningful.

And I'm bummed I'M missing it this year...

Take a load off, Fannie...

So, not to get
a. all dramatic
or
b. all whiny,
but...

Honestly, sometimes the weight of this thing feels like it's going to crush me.

"This thing" being pastoral ministry, "crush" meaning metaphorically weigh me down until I'm a quivering mass of existential angst, and "me" meaning... well, me.

Here's what's getting me down (or maybe "up" would be a more apt word to use here... "up" as in 2:30am) lately. One of the absolute hardest things to come to grips with in my role is the weight people put on my words.

Now, now... Careful there. Bob isn't thinking of Bob as more than Bob ought...

This has more to do with the fact that if someone in our community feels slighted by someone else in our community, they'll generally do one of two things: forgive them/work it out (good) or just give the other person a wide berth (not nearly as good, but still...). When someone in our community feels slighted by me? Well, the options often seem to narrow down to one: leave.

Someone in our community says something dumb about something important? Others generally: laugh, say "hey! That was dumb! Duh!" or just ignore it. When I say something dumb about something important? Two things generally happen: words like "concerns" and "issues" start getting dropped or... people just leave.

I say dumb things all the time. Just ask my wife. I'm so glad every time I do so it doesn't result in a flurry of emails, coffee meetings and someone choosing to leave our family, generally without telling anyone.

I just wish it worked differently on a church level, you know?

dad recap

So, yeah... my dad didn't show on Friday.

We had a good dinner anyway, with my aunt and uncle, my only other relatives left in California where I grew up, but...

It wasn't just a no-show. It was also a no-call, a no-attempt-to-reschedule, a no-how-about-stopping-by-and-letting-me-meet-my-grandkids...

I suppose a bit more backstory might help.

When Amy and I got married almost 6 years ago, my dad didn't want to come. Said he "wouldn't know anyone." That pretty much tore things for me... I had made efforts with him all through my 20's, but never really saw that reciprocated. So when he didn't want to fly out for our 2002 wedding, I was pretty much done.

I did make another effort, however, when we discovered Jack was on his way. I wrote a Christmas card telling him what was up with me, that we were about to plant a church and he was about to be a grandfather. I let him know I'd be happy to send pictures if he wanted them. I told him all he had to do was write or call and just let me know he'd like that.

Never heard back...

The hard part of this is that as difficult as it was to get to a place where I picked up the phone and let him know we were coming, it was even more difficult to get to a place where I had something redemptive to say to him, something about forgiveness. But I was there.

Now? I don't know... I'm angry, hurt, would rather not think about it, etc.

His health is failing (congestive heart failure) and I seriously doubt he'll be around that much longer. I really don't know how much effort I can/should put into this.
Right now, it's not feeling much, I can tell you.

trust it...

An interesting confluence of events/themes in my life.

I wrote just about a year ago of some of my struggles in finding a mentor, someone to build into me as I was trying to build into others, and the fact that this thread, this lack wove its way all the way back in my life...  and seemed like it would continue to do so moving forward, for the foreseeable future. I've never felt thwarted by God in any other area, but in this one...

Recently, I met with an older pastor named Morris. He's stepped away from full-time pastoring to focus more on spiritual direction, working mainly with pastors in the CMA denomination, though he makes time for a few non-denominational strays like me.

We met, had a good conversation that I really enjoyed and agreed to meet again.
At our second meeting he listened as I described where I'm at; my fear that I'm going to hit a wall in 8-9 months, my frustration that I've reached a place in life (husbanding, fathering, pastoring) where I simply have no idea what I'm doing, the busyness, tiredness, distractedness... He displayed good empathy, asked appropriate questions and finally said this: "Bob, you know what you need? You need a coach and spiritual director."

Yeah? Really?

He then began to talk about how he'd be happy to help me find such a person, he had some contacts, etc.
My heart was in my throat and all I could think was "Well, of course. What else could he have said? That's the plot, after all."

Busyness... or Gluttony?

“A paradox has emerged in this new millennium: people have enhanced quality of life, but at the same time they are adding to their stress levels by taking on more than they have resources to handle. It's as though their eyes were bigger than their stomachs."
- David Allen, Getting Things Done

It's more than likely that you've heard a message, read a book, or done some thinking about "busyness" in the last year or two. Slightly less likely, but still entirely possible that you've heard a message, read a book, or done some thinking on "gluttony" during the same time.

It's highly unlikely that the two were connected, however. And maybe they should have been.

Why do we say yes to so much? Is it because we are guilt-ridden, co-dependent angst monkeys who lack the willpower to say no?
Nah- we say NO to a million things a day. Usually to things that are good for us, but still... When we want to, we know how to say no just fine, thank you.

Is it because we have a drive towards self justification that works itself out in our work and an ever-increasing load of commitments through which we seek to earn the favor of others and God? In part, yes...

But maybe, it also has something to do with our appetites?

You know, our appetites for recognition and "importance." To be liked, appreciated, admired... Even our appetite to "get things done."

And honestly, there's nothing inherently wrong with that. But like all things in this broken world, left unchecked by the Spirit and unsubmitted to God, our appetite to be liked and our desire to achieve will run out of control.

I've been thinking about busyness as though it's a problem to be managed- increase my productivity and I could, of course, accept and keep more commitments, more on my plate... more to feed my ego.

Maybe the problem with busyness isn't it. Maybe it's me. Me and my ego and pride.

Conceived of this way, busyness isn't an issue of time management and productivity, it's an issue of desire. When is enough, enough? When am I doing enough good things through which that God-given desire to feel productive and useful in this world can be fulfilled? When do I cross the line between finding satisfaction in the good day's work I put in and trying to find my identity through an ever-increasing load of ego-enhancing commitments?

Don't get me wrong- I want to continue to work on productivity/time management and all the rest. But until I work through the inner issues of why I try to do so much, all the productivity hacks in the word really just add up to enabling.
In other words, most days I don't need any more help being productive or managing the stress of work. I think I need help in managing my appetite for applause and the stress of opportunity.

I fear my busyness is simply a sign of my gluttony.

Zip-Fizz

Day two without coffee and I'm feeling great.
Sleeping better, less jumpy...

I did get off the freeway at the wrong exit yesterday and do a couple of other duh kinds of things... so maybe my brain is missing the Joe, but basically feeling great.

And the no coffee thing has happened by accident. I just haven't felt the need.

I picked up at Costco (who so generously feed my kids lunch in bite-sized samples every Saturday) a box of Zip Fizz. Little tubes of powder you add to water. Lots of vitamins, about 100mg of caffeine (a tall coffee at SBux has 260 mg, for comparison). But somehow, whereas with coffee I needed the morning cup (and by "cup" I mean big-arse travel mug), another when I got to wherever I going to work that day or from 7-11 along the way... with this, I don't.

Maybe it's the 41,667% of your RDA of vitamin B12? Yeah, you read that right- not a typo.

That's a lot of B12.

You don't metabolize it very well, and probably end up peeing most of it away, but I gotta tell you- one tube in the morning (10 calories, 0 Sugar- just mix with water) has kept me going all day long and without that edgy feeling that too much caffeine gives. No headaches, I've been sleeping better, felt calmer... Is this what it feels like to be in a healthy rhythm? Whoa.

You should check this stuff out:

Frustrated...

Time for some self-therapy.

One of my pastoral counseling schticks is that frustration is nearly always a sign of unreasonable expectations, and when you feel frustrated, it's a good thing to examine why, what you were/are expecting and whether or not it's unreasonable to expect that.

So, I'm frustrated. Frustrated with myself for sure and trying hard not to be frustrated with the two tiny people I love most in this whole world.

I'm in one of those phases where my brain has turned off- it's kind of a cycle, really. I begin reading less, thinking less, writing less.. and since each feeds the other, there's this diminishing return type of effect where slowly but surely my brain begins to shut down and turn off...

I don't blog, I don't think, I don't process, and as a result, everything gets backed up. I find myself telling my problems to and processing with those I'm trying to do pastoral counseling with.

And then when I try to turn the whole thing around, I find myself rising earlier and earlier to get some time in before the (seemingly) increasingly early rising times of our beautiful kids.
Never fails.

I'll sit down to read my Bible, spend some time in prayer and- crying (Jack or Janie... not me).
Or I'll actually get in reading/praying/stretching I want to do, and (thinking I'm home free) reach out for a book to read... Touching the book seems to activate a mechanism whereby a tiny electrical shock is transmitted to one of our kids (whichever is on Keep-Dad-From-Thinking-Duty that day) and someone gets up... Our rule is that up until 7am is sleep/in room/quiet time. It rarely seems to work out that way.

I'm not complaining (okay- I am a little)... mainly, I catalog my frustrations to name them and to label them- unreasonable. Unreasonable to expect a 1 1/2 year old and a 3 1/2 year old to conform to vision of the perfect morning, and to do so regularly. Unreasonable to assume that even if I did have all this free-time in the mornings, I would and could actually be the CS Lewisian figure I picture myself being.
Unreasonable to assume that thoughtful creativity can and should come easily.

God forgive me for any expectation of mine that would lead me to view my children waking in the morning as anything but a cause to once again, today, say "Thank You, God!"

Huh...

So, I just realized something. I was looking through the archives for something and I noticed...

Let me back up.

When Jane was born, we were counseled to get a few little presents for Jack to unwrap and have/play with. The idea is that all the attention on Mom and the new baby is no fun for the sibling, so as a way to make them feel a bit special and occupy them, you get them a little something. Worked well with Jack and some brand new Thomas The Tank Engine trains.

So, here's what I noticed. It was right at the same time that Jane was born that I began my Quixotic Quest for a Macbook... you know, that little blog project wherein I asked all my readers for $.99 towards the purchase of the Macbook I am currently blogging on.

It worked, I got the Macbook a month later...

The realization? This computer is just a larger, more expensive version of a Thomas the Tank Engine.

D'oh.

Resolutions

I think this resolution from Jonathan Edwards about covers it...

"Resolved, that I will live so, as I shall wish I had done when I come to die."

And if not, this one does:
"Resolved, to live with all my might, while I do live."

And...
"Resolved, to live so, at all times, as I think is best in my devout frames, and when I have clearest notions of things of the gospel, and another world."

Sometimes...

When my son Jack was about 1 1/2, he took up the habit of biting.

He'd bite me, he'd bite his mom, he'd bite other kids... occasionally, he'd even bite himself.

We tried everything to break him of this habit.
We asked nicely.
We told him sternly, "No!"
We slapped his little hand.

Absolutely nothing worked.

So, one day, when he had bit his mom and left a nasty bruise for something like the 10th time that week, I finally did the only thing we could think of.

I bit him back.

And you know what? It worked.
That was the end of the biting.

Asking him to stop, telling him to stop... until he actually felt what he was doing to others, he wouldn't stop. But when he did? When he knew what it felt like?

I was thinking about this story yesterday, wishing that this same dynamic would never have to play out among adults, here in this blog-o-sphere of ours. 

Unfortunately, occasionally, it does.

And that's all I'm going to say about that.

I'm... Fabulous!

I've been feeling good lately... which would be un-noteworthy were it not such a departure from the recent "feeling like crap!" that's been more characteristic.

I've been sleeping better, feeling a lot more energy (both mental, emotional and physical) and just all around in a good place.

I attribute this to a couple of things:

Naps
and
the Gospel.

First, the naps. What a game-changer! HT to my Ass. Pastor who gave me the idea to crawl into the back of my Mazda Tribute every (working) day for a 20 minute siesta around noon. That's it- just 20 minutes on my back, timer on my phone set, eyes closed. The difference has been amazing- a cascading spiral of positive results. I feel refreshed and energized for the afternoon, so I get more done. In getting more done, I feel better at home, more able to be present and helpful to my beautiful wife. All of that leads to being able to actually turn things off and rest at night. Which leads to better sleep and a better day, and so on... Good stuff.

So, all in all, these past few days have been great. I can't tell you how wonderful it was yesterday to be able to answer the question "How are you doing" with a very sincere "Great!" (I think I may have even gotten carried away and answered one person with "Fabulous!"... yeah... maybe overshot a bit on that one).

The other thing leading to warm fuzzies for Bob has been wrapping up our series on How the Gospel Shapes Us. Its been fabulous (!) to work through my own thoughts on this (heavily, I say heavily influenced by Tim Keller's material) and not only preach to the community, but preach to myself. I think God has used these weeks to grow me, straighten me out a bit on some things, and just generally encourage me...

Here's a bit of what I preached yesterday:

We’ve talked a lot over the past few weeks about how the Gospel pushes us towards leaving our idols- all our functional saviors and points us towards Jesus- the only one we can trust to save us, to bring us joy.

The problem is, it’s easy to say “Jesus is my Savior.” But when we start teasing out all the implications of the Gospel in our lives, we begin to see that often practically speaking, either we’re depending on other things to get us through the day, or we’re doing the right things, but for the wrong reasons.
The church I grew up in went through a period where they couldn’t seem to keep a pastor. They “resigned” the pastor who planted the church because he was getting too old, the man who came after him died on the tennis court- just dropped dead one day. The guy who replaced him abruptly left after two years. But the guy who followed him… He nearly got himself shot.
A guy and a gal I had known growing up in youth group, got married, and she later became the worship director of the church. The guy was always starting businesses, making money… One day he left the house, realized he had forgotten something at home, turned around and went back, and came home to find his wife, the worship director, in the very act of, uh, breaking her marriage vows with the pastor. So Doug, that was his name, went to the closet, grabbed a shotgun, and very nearly shot the pastor as he ran out of the house.
That pastor lost his job, lost his family- a wife and two girls, and now sells Volkswagens at a dealership in San Diego. I think about him all the time.
And I tell you that story to lead up to a confession of sorts.
Since I’ve become a pastor, I find that I struggle with very different things than I did before I got married and became a pastor. For instance, I don’t look at porn. Now, before you think I’m bragging, let me clarify- I don’t look at porn for all the wrong reasons.
The truth is, every time I’m tempted to do so, I begin to think about how much it would cost me if I were to get caught. The damage it would do in my marriage is huge in my mind. But also the fact that even though the elders and I could probably work through even something like that, I’m still conditioned to respond like I was taught in the churches of my youth, where, pastors were assumed to be “above reproach” (which they seemed to understand as “inhumanly perfect”) and so when issues would arise, pastors would disappear- they would resign, be fired, etc. And in my mind, a huge part of why I don’t look at porn is because- I don’t want to lose my job. It’s not that I’m not tempted- but I hear the voices in my head “Bad pastor! Bad pastor!” I see my old pastor in my head and I stay away.
So what’s the problem there? Well… right choice, wrong motive.
Let me be even more transparent here and this is the confession: See, my idol is what you all think of me. It’s so important to me, that when I have an off Sunday, and I think everyone went home thinking about how badly I sucked, I’m devastated. I can’t sleep. When someone leaves this community, or criticizes my pastoring? That’s hard for me.
Why? Because, the truth is, in many ways, Jesus isn’t my Savior. You are. Your approval is my functional Savior. Now, that idol occasionally, coincidentally pushes me towards doing the right thing. The problem is, whenever I come up against a struggle, a temptation and I choose to do the right thing because I need to feed my idol, because I need to protect my functional Savior of your approval of me, in trying to become a more obedient Christ follower, I have in effect, through nurturing that idol, nurtured evil in my heart. Twisted.

rest here

that's my boy

I had my first Parent-Teacher conference this morning.

Apparently, Jack was the only one in his preschool class who could say his memory verse this month :) (Gen 1:31)

That's my pastor's kid!

I can totally see Jack teaching one of our Theology Pubs
someday, can't you?

"The whole narrative says 'We were created for community!"

"Hmm... That's a good point..."

"Well. sure... but that's really more of a question of epistemology, don't you think?"

Sbux Hell...

I hit the wall again on Tuesday...

I have found over the last almost four years now that I cycle through these times of loving the way I need to do ministry and hating it- this nomadic, rootless all-over-town, mostly-in-Starbucks and other coffee places existence.

There are times when I think back to being chained to a particular spot, four walls that never change and I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity to work wherever and the changing scenery.

There are other days when it either doesn't change enough or I long just for a sense of permanency and continuity- a desk that is mine, a place more conducive to thought, prayer, study, reading...

This happens every once in awhile- I'll be driving out of my street first thing in the morning and on days when I don't necessarily have a lot of appointments or have blocked out for study, I'll need to decide where I am going to work... and I'll be hit with this overwhelming desire to never see the inside of a starbucks again. My mind will work through the different options for places to work (too far, too loud, no reliable wi-fi...) and I'll end up driving back and forth while I struggle to land somewhere.

I'm not describing this well.

Let me start again. Every once in awhile I move from happiness and general contentment with my roving work environs through ambivalence straight through to stark raving terror at the thought of having to spend one more second of my life in the loud, jostle-y, "How's your day going so far?", bitter coffee and hard seat hell that is Starbucks.

Yeah... that captures it a little better.

(We actually have an office. It's a small, maybe 10x8 room where we have all our Sunday morning crap piled impossibly high over and around a single desk/chair and two other chairs. It's good for the occasional quiet moment, counseling with a couple or our weekly staff meeting (being myself, Dustin and Chris, our Ass. Pastor). What it's not good for is much else, being as there's no internet. We're getting ready to do budget '08, and I think I need to make a plug for internet at the office... There's a wireless provider there that will do something like $30 a month, so, not too outrageous...)

All that to say, Tuesday... I worked in a Kinkos. :)

1st gear...

(yeah.. the following doesn't really go anywhere, or even make a ton of sense. I think I'm blogging at this point to prevent bringing this level of thinking/effervescent writing to any sermon prep that might otherwise occur today)

Ugh. I think if you were to take all of the posts I have written here over the last few months, throw them in a blender and set it to puree', you'd have a glimpse of how I've been feeling today. Good, bad, tired...

I actually slept through the night the last two nights, both with the help of an Ambien, and I'm just not sure if the sluggish, stuck-in-first-gear thing I have going on today is a result of chemical-sleep being a poor substitute for the real deal, cumulative effects of said chemicals, or just a really, really busy weekend. I lost my patience sometime last night, and I'm just beginning to feel it coming back- but it's tenuous! Oh, so tenuous...

Speaking of, this weekend, particularly this Sunday was busy and great... and busy.

Saturday was a fun kid's b-day party (who knew these things were mostly mom events? C'mon guys!) followed by a Community Dinner that evening. Man- sometimes I'm convinced, we pack more people into houses for these events than we should (we had about 60 or more folks at this one). We need to start considering east-side/west-side or some other configuration before we all end up on the evening news because we plunge as one through a floor to our deaths in a big ol' community heap (hopefully, if it happens, it happens after dinner. We have some good food at these things).

Saturday nights, I never sleep well. Anyone else "What if I don't wake up on time?" anxiety? I only get it one day a week, but man...
Anyway, up at 4 or so, polishing sermon till 7, help get kids up and fed, leave for the office, pack the stuff up, set up the Lab, have a great gathering (more on that in a minute), hang out for conversations after, Elder meeting from 1-4 or so, race home, grab the family and head to home group.
And yes, I was a little loopy for homegroup. Luckily, we were just doing supper together.

This Sunday was great at Evergreen- and the best part is that it was great for reasons that had nothing to do with me. Underprepared, overtired... I preached on how the Gospel shapes us into a worshiping community, and that without truly worshiping God, nothing really changes in our lives. We simply trade one idol for another...

The most beautiful part was the response in worship- both in interacting with the text (including some good pushback during the discussion) but also simply in singing. The band played the absolute best they ever have. Our band sits when they play- we try to stay away from the whole performance thing... so, when I say "best" I don't mean flashy- I mean some beautiful arrangements, some great texture, an awesome new song written by one of our worship leaders- it was the best music we've ever had on a Sunday, bar none.

And people responded. When we stood at the end to sing the Doxology, people sang with gusto, which for a fairly contemplative community such as ours was really something. It felt like a great response to what we had heard from 1st Peter- that all our lives, all our being, all our worship belong to God- "All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ."

I love being part of something that works on that level... especially when I know it's the combination of other people's gifts and the Holy Spirit that get us there.

The Sea...

I'm tired... too tired to be creative, really.
The sleep thing has been rough the past week or so, even with artificial help.
The last few weeks have been tiring ministry-wise.

So here are some thoughts along those lines from the archives- from about a year ago:

The Sea

"We work in the confidence that God is able to give us the gifts and graces needed for ministry in our time and place." -Will Willimon, Pastor

"Tell Archippus: "See to it that you complete the work you have received in the Lord."- Col 4:17

When I read the Willimon quote above, the first thing I think is "Oh, I certainly hope so."

And as for the quote from Colossians...
Archippus was the one who (apparently) was left as the pastor when Epaphras, who planted the church in Colossae left to be with Paul.
A little pastoral pick-me-up from Paul there. "See to it that you complete the work you have received in the Lord."
Love that...

Gregory of Nazianzen was called by his people to be their pastor, but in his mind it was "too high." He wrote of his reluctance to bear what he saw as the "commission to guide and govern souls... especially in times like these."
So he ran away. Ordained on Christmas, it wasn't too long after that he fled out to the desert.
But his people begged him to return.
He waited, and waited... and by the time he came back, his people were so angry at him that they refused to come hear him preach at Easter.
In 362 he wrote a letter of explanation to his community, explaining his feelings and his actions. He said pastors are like sailors "who cross the wide oceans and constantly contend with wind and waves." His preference, he told them, would be to stay ashore, and plow a short but pleasant furrow, saluting at a respectful distance the sea and its gains.

Will Willimon writes about Gregory that in the end, he went back because he realized "his people needed him and because he was more afraid of disobeying God than he was of being a pastor."

From one who's never had too much interest in the short but pleasant furrow, but still occasionally gets overwhelmed by the tossing waves, I'm glad to hear of people like Archippus and Gregory.

Their stories give me context- an understanding that the seasickness is normal. Occasionally I understand the call of the desert over that of the waves. Solid ground vs. shifting sea. But that's illusory. The sands shift just as much as the sea. And not to say that pastoral ministry is the sea and all else is small but pleasant furrows in the midst of a desert. Pastoral ministry is my sea... what God has called me to.

And so, even in the midst of a bit of disequilibrium, there's nothing I'd rather be doing as my life's work than helping people spiritually, teaching, counseling... helping these people, loving and teaching these people.

Whew...

So we got everything out of the elevator.

We left a note at the office asking to be called when they got there and I got the call about 10:30 or so (they tend to keep funny hours at our office building). He promised he'd call back when he knew the time the elevator repair person would arrive, so I could be there to get our stuff.

But...

After about an hour or so, the call I got was "Okay. We got everything out and piled it in front of your office door!"

Yeah?

So, here I am racing across town to our office, imagining the other tenants of the building enjoying the impromptu give-away of guitars and music stands on the fourth floor of our building...

But everything was fine.
I worked up a nice little sweat running up the stairs and then loading everything back into the office. Turned out to be a fun little adventure...

In fact, yesterday in general was a pretty good day where I got a ton of jive done.

More and more, I'm coming to appreciate rough ministry days- days when things don't go well or when I don't "perform" up to my own expectations. They used to create an inertia and despondency in me that de-motivated. I'm not sure what changed, but now- I usually wake up the next morning ready to hit things hard, and not only get back on the horse, but smack the horse around a few times and show it who's boss.

Okay... maybe not the best analogy.

But you get what I'm saying...

Damn that Murphy...

Aye carumba... what a day.
This morning was semi-nightmarish for me. Murphy's Law Sunday.

Every once in awhile Sundays turn into a Fellini-esque dream sequence of oddities and tragedy... this one started with no small amount of sleep deprivation from the past few nights as Jack has been waking up, and waking up, and waking up again....

We got away to Welches up on Mt Hood this last week, and while the family time was great and needed, I just didn't get the time I wanted to think through and work on sermon for this morning... so, in spite of Jack doing his thing multiple times last night, I was still up at five trying to polish a message that never quite got there. I hate feeling like I'm preaching a first draft. Hate it.

Anyway, the real excitement of the day started in getting to the office and beginning to load the equipment from the office on to the elevator. The way it works is this- ride the elevator up to the fourth floor where our rented office is, turn the little key that locks the elevator there with the doors open, and then load it up.

Easy, right?

Not when the elevator door decides to close all on it's own halfway through loading... with the key turned to "off"... and Bob standing open-mouthed in the hall.

Crap!... and no, banging on the door didn't work. Ditto trying to pry it open. Ditto cursing.

So, with all the kids ministry equipment, most of the sound equipment, music stands, coffee pot, bass amp, etc sitting on the fourth floor, we grabbed what was left and headed over to the Lab. Luckily, we had enough sound equipment to cobble together a working system, the kids made do, the Lab employees were nice enough to brew a couple pots of coffee for us, and things went relatively okay.

I know intellectually that stuff like that doesn't matter. Shouldn't matter. 
But man, that kind of thing throws me off. Tough for me to recover, feel at ease and just enjoy the morning.

The worst part is that even as I am focusing on teasing out the implications of the Gospel for our community, I know, I know, that feeling this way is ridiculous. I'm not justified by Sunday morning performance- be it comedy of errors or Spurgeon-quality getting my preach on.
In the long run, it just doesn't matter.

But the truth is, I never feel "at ease"... at least not past the next Sunday that goes oh, so crapily. And I really need to figure that out.

The book of Hebrews says "So there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God." The idea is that we no longer rest on one day a week, but on every day. We rest in the finished work of Christ.

I've been realizing over the last few weeks that my struggles with sleep and feeling rested physically are, in a way, pointing to me towards something deeper.
The fact is, I just don't feel at rest, at ease the way I should. I'm not that I ever have, at least for any length of time.

In years past, I chalked it up to once. You know, once I get married, once I'm a dad, a pastor, have "my" own church... then.
Yeah...
Doesn't work like that.

I go to bed just thinking about all the things I want and need to do tomorrow. I can't remember the last time I felt done, you know? I find myself daydreaming about what it would feel like to be completely happy with everything as it is, just as it is, and myself able to feel like I can simply lean back and relax into it. Not that I'm not ecstatically happy with this life God has given me...  because I am.

But I can't help thinking on some level, if I was really understanding the Gospel, the rest that Jesus provides- rest from having to earn anything with God, from having to justify myself to anyone, rest from having to  prove anything...

Dinner with Alan Hirsch...

Tonight I'm having dinner and drinks with Alan Hirsch at a pub here in Portland. Alan is co-author of the amazing, life-changing (for me) The Shaping of Things to Come and author of the Forgotten Ways (which I'm half-way through)...

I'll let you know how it goes- should be around 5 or 6 of us, including Alan- so a nice "intimate" group.

dam... redux

I'm thinking through a follow up to what's below (that I published this last February), so I'll reprint this now to prime the pump a bit...

From Feb, 07:

I'm not sure if I'll even publish this, but I think I need to write it anyway to get it out.

I nearly cried just now.

I signed up when I got here to meet with one of the "sages" that they have at the convention. Eugene Peterson and his wife and Stuart Briscoe. Stuart had an opening that fit for me, so I grabbed it. To borrow some language from John Eldredge, I think the time was "part of my story."

Being in San Diego occasionally brings things up for me. Dad things. It's where I grew up, and where my dad, with whom I have not spoken in 5 or so years lives. A nutshell kind of explanation for that is that relationship has never been real important to my dad, leastwise not relationship with me. When we couldn't get him to come to our wedding, when he didn't call when my first child (or second for that matter) was born, I made the decision that I just needed to stop hoping. All that was getting me was slightly more hurt at every missed life event, every milestone, every day that went by without communication from him. I just had to cut him loose from any expectation that he would ever do or say or be anything for or to me.

I dealt largely with the pain of that through the birth of my son Jack. I found (and find) great healing in doing for him what I wish had been done for me.

But I'm finding that that dynamic, which has worked well in terms of dadness has worked less well in terms of mentor. I realize the two are intricately connected, and yet I'm also coming to realize that I can partially heal one by being Dad to my son, but the other...

Another odd dynamic in my life is that whether through the internet or in real life, I have these people who are seeking me out. It's not overwhelming (though I apologize if you've sent me an email with some questions in it about life in ministry/church stuff and I haven't gotten back to you. I put those in the "to answer" folder with the best of intentions), but it is noticeable.

And I'm happy to give a shot to mentoring and coaching others. In fact, long term, I feel as though it's what God has shaped me for. I think in 20 years, I'll be primarily a pastor of pastors, and I'm very much looking forward to that.

But if the feeling of needing dad has been lessened through the dynamic of having a son, the feeling of needing a mentor... well, that's a different story.

I was thinking some of these thoughts before meeting with Stuart, wondering if it was really something I wanted to get into, somewhere I really wanted to go.

I'm not sure I had a choice, really.

Ruth Haley Barton today said "What is under the surface matters, and solitude helps us name it" and I'm realizing that this convention, with all these people and for all the noise and activity, genuinely represents an experience of solitude for me, being for me a stepping out of my routine, a chance to slow down and think. But that's another post...

So, I went there with him. I described the feeling I have in this area that I have recently named again for the first time in years: that God is thwarting me. That as I have traveled from place to place to place, from ministry situation to ministry situation, always looking for a mentor that God was always and in all ways saying no. That He was willing to give me every good gift except two- a mentor and an explanation why.

And Stuart, God bless 'im, became part of the story. He told me that "mentor" really isn't a biblical term and I should lower my expectations/ideals in this area.

He had some really good things to say, all with good solid biblical thinking behind it, but the long and short of it was that he told me to give up.

And I thought, "Of course. How could he possibly have said anything else?"

We talked some more, a bit about ministry and marriage and he continued to give me good, sound wisdom and in doing so completely undid everything he had said earlier by giving me the smallest taste, the briefest glimpse of what it's like to have a mentor. Someone who has walked the same path already, someone who has made all the mistakes and cares enough to share wisdom, to ask questions and to not expect any mutuality... to ask nothing in return.

I smiled, I nodded, I tried hard to keep from tearing up.

I went to shake his hand and he gripped mine very tightly in both of his and prayed for me.

I was so close to losing it I nearly ran out.

So... I sit here wondering "How long, oh Lord?"... and renewed in my determination that if someone thinks I have something to offer them, that if they think I'm that worthy of seeking out, I need to treat that as a gift and honor it with whatever I can- with whatever I have to give. Not all of me, certainly- most of that is reserved for others and for Other. But something.

And maybe, just maybe, if I pay it forward enough...

   

 

I'm not sure if I'll even publish this, but I think I need to write it anyway to get it out.

I nearly cried just now.

I signed up when I got here to meet with one of the "sages" that they have at the convention. Eugene Peterson and his wife and Stuart Briscoe. Stuart had an opening that fit for me, so I grabbed it. To borrow some language from John Eldredge, I think the time was "part of my story."

Being in San Diego occasionally brings things up for me. Dad things. It's where I grew up, and where my dad, with whom I have not spoken in 5 or so years lives. A nutshell kind of explanation for that is that relationship has never been real important to my dad, leastwise not relationship with me. When we couldn't get him to come to our wedding, when he didn't call when my first child (or second for that matter) was born, I made the decision that I just needed to stop hoping. All that was getting me was slightly more hurt at every missed life event, every milestone, every day that went by without communication from him. I just had to cut him loose from any expectation that he would ever do or say or be anything for or to me.

I dealt largely with the pain of that through the birth of my son Jack. I found (and find) great healing in doing for him what I wish had been done for me.

But I'm finding that that dynamic, which has worked well in terms of dadness has worked less well in terms of mentor. I realize the two are intricately connected, and yet I'm also coming to realize that I can partially heal one by being Dad to my son, but the other...

Another odd dynamic in my life is that whether through the internet or in real life, I have these people who are seeking me out. It's not overwhelming (though I apologize if you've sent me an email with some questions in it about life in ministry/church stuff and I haven't gotten back to you. I put those in the "to answer" folder with the best of intentions), but it is noticeable.

And I'm happy to give a shot to mentoring and coaching others. In fact, long term, I feel as though it's what God has shaped me for. I think in 20 years, I'll be primarily a pastor of pastors, and I'm very much looking forward to that.

But if the feeling of needing dad has been lessened through the dynamic of having a son, the feeling of needing a mentor... well, that's a different story.

I was thinking some of these thoughts before meeting with Stuart, wondering if it was really something I wanted to get into, somewhere I really wanted to go.

I'm not sure I had a choice, really.

Ruth Haley Barton today said "What is under the surface matters, and solitude helps us name it" and I'm realizing that this convention, with all these people and for all the noise and activity, genuinely represents an experience of solitude for me, being for me a stepping out of my routine, a chance to slow down and think. But that's another post...

So, I went there with him. I described the feeling I have in this area that I have recently named again for the first time in years: that God is thwarting me. That as I have traveled from place to place to place, from ministry situation to ministry situation, always looking for a mentor that God was always and in all ways saying no. That He was willing to give me every good gift except two- a mentor and an explanation why.

And Stuart, God bless 'im, became part of the story. He told me that "mentor" really isn't a biblical term and I should lower my expectations/ideals in this area.

He had some really good things to say, all with good solid biblical thinking behind it, but the long and short of it was that he told me to give up.

And I thought, "Of course. How could he possibly have said anything else?"

We talked some more, a bit about ministry and marriage and he continued to give me good, sound wisdom and in doing so completely undid everything he had said earlier by giving me the smallest taste, the briefest glimpse of what it's like to have a mentor. Someone who has walked the same path already, someone who has made all the mistakes and cares enough to share wisdom, to ask questions and to not expect any mutuality... to ask nothing in return.

I smiled, I nodded, I tried hard to keep from tearing up.

I went to shake his hand and he gripped mine very tightly in both of his and prayed for me.

I was so close to losing it I nearly ran out.

So... I sit here wondering "How long, oh Lord?"... and renewed in my determination that if someone thinks I have something to offer them, that if they think I'm that worthy of seeking out, I need to treat that as a gift and honor it with whatever I can- with whatever I have to give. Not all of me, certainly- most of that is reserved for others and for Other. But something.

And maybe, just maybe, if I pay it forward enough...

Shameless plea...

It's Friday and I'm about to post something real... you know, like an actual post. Not just a youtube video or one of my myriad cheap shots at the good Dr. John MacArthur.

But while we wait, would you all do me a big favor?

Could you click here and "favorite" this here blog? (You probably have to "sign in" to technorati)

I'd sure appreciate it!

(Oh- and the next post? About Paula and Randy White AND Rob Bell! Ooooh! Stick around!)

Moments of grace...

I've had a few recently... and they've been like that cool breeze on a hot summer night- restorative.

Moment 1- This last Sunday was good. I have felt for months now (at least 4 or 5) that I've been at about a 50% level in my communication. Both the preaching, the preparation, the prayer involved, everything.

Sunday, I felt like, through no virtue of my own, God allowed me to get back up in the high 80's :) I wouldn't say I hit it out of the park, but it was solid. I often pray before Sundays "God, please just let me preach." And this week... He did.

We were finishing out our series on the Psalms, and I was preaching the tiny little Psalm 131. I got the pleasure of preaching "Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself,
      like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk.
      Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me."

The manuscript (for those who are into things like that) is here. It turned out to be a good call to all of us, myself included, to think about the amount of pride in our lives, to strive to move past an infantile neurotic dependency on God and move towards a more mature trust and a hope that centers in God Himself rather than God meeting our every whim (I used the phrase "cosmic Breast... and yeah, it provoked some giggling). Interestingly enough, the pastor of a large church in town who's currently on sabbatical showed up that morning. I'm fairly sure I didn't look over in that direction the whole time...
The sermon itself was nothing special, but... the morning just worked. And to be honest, with how I've been feeling about things lately, I needed it to.  It might be hard for people to understand, but it feels to me like a gift from God when these words/movements/reflections I've labored over, and sometimes feel good about and sometimes not, nevertheless connect, and I feel like I've finally gotten on the same page as the Holy Spirit. That what I'm saying on a particular morning somehow coincides with what God is doing in our community and the Word gets preached...
Like I say... a gift.

Moment 2- Last night I had a perfect moment. One of those bliss instances where you just know- all is well and all manner of things are well.
I was, oddly enough, at an alumni function for Western Seminary. There was nothing uniquely cool about it- your standard church-type event with sodas, food, puppet show for the kids... but it was out on the lawn of Western, a place I love, and though there were few few alums that I knew or had been to school with, I got to see and talk with a number of professors and other Seminary faculty that I enjoy...
But mostly, it was just that my beautiful wife was there, my two beautiful kids were there, and we were sitting out on a lawn in perfect 70 or so degree weather on a late August night eating hot dogs, talking, just enjoying. I loved, loved, loved introducing my family to the men and women who had taught me at Seminary- I guess I am just so damn PROUD of them, this wife and two kids I get to live life with. Sometimes, I can't believe the way that God has blessed me.
And at one point, sitting there, breathing the cooling air deeply, I realized how much I was enjoying myself- how happy I was.  It sounds weird, but I can't recall a more blissful moment in  years. It was an absolute gift from God, that moment.

But, like all moments, it ends. This one, when it got on towards the kids' bedtime and they left (I was heading to guys night from there) and someone emailed me and I became aware that my last post had hit some folks wrong...

Moment 3- The discussion following this post kind of colored this morning and day for me. I realize we can always be MORE careful in what we say... I thought I had been, but probably not careful enough. Anyway,  there was that, the kids (those beautiful kids!) were up super early this morning (they are significantly less beautiful at 5:15 in the am), I missed time alone, thinking and praying... was stupid enough to venture over to Team Pyro, forgetting that they don't actually want people to answer questions they ask (at least people who have made the mistake of mentioning John MacArthur once in their comments and so received a life-time ban... sheesh), had a couple of meetings where I was certainly not at the top of my pastoral game, was feeling grumpy and out-of-sorts when...

I came across this blog post. Paul Walker has been blogging through the Wikiklesia book project that I submitted a chapter for. To be honest,  though I knew he was doing this, author by author, one chapter at a time, I hadn't really said anything or linked it... mainly, because I thought my chapter kind of sucked. I mean, I meant everything I said, but it was so late in coalescing in my head that I felt like it was poorly written, poorly structured... I honestly thought most people would think of it as a throw-away chapter in the midst of some really good stuff- and would say so. 
Whether he was being diplomatically nice or genuinely liked it, I don't know. But I do know that when, tired and frustrated, I sat down to work here before our theology pub tonight and came across his post... it was what I needed to read.
I guess it was nice to just read that someone actually liked something I said, you know? We probably all need that every now and again, and it's particularly effective in helping to turn a bad day around, especially one when we've allowed silly things to get us down. So thanks Paul...

And thanks God for those little moments of grace- undeserved gifts from You that break into the frustration of this world and the grind of our lives like manna... just what we need, just when we need it.

   

I will be good...

No, it's not more stuff about Team Pyro... relax.

Almost 20 years ago, when I was still in college and just starting out in ministry, I worked for a youth pastor named Tim. Tim told me a story once about how, in High School, he took the ACT and scored a 9. He promptly began bragging to all his friends about this bodacious score, thinking that it was a 9 out of 10.
Eventually one of his friends pulled him aside and told him it was actually 9 out of 36.
Yeah.
He felt kind of dumb.

Recently, I moved to upgrade my life insurance from a 20 year $250,000 to a 30 year $500,000 policy. I was upset to find out they wouldn't write it for me, (well, they would, just very, very expensively). I had to settle for a 20 year $400,000 policy (for now). The culprit?
Cholesterol.

Apparently, I have a level of 243.
"243? What's normal?" I asked
"They want you to be under 200."
"well, 243 doesn't sound that bad... don't know what the big deal is" I mumbled.

In my head, somehow, from somewhere, had crept in the idea that some people are walking around with scores in the 5 and 600's. To me, 243 sounded "slightly elevated", you know... no big deal. Maybe just some minor tweaking of the diet...

Well, I did some reading and, apparently, it's a big deal. No one is walking around with a 600... and if they are, they won't be for long. Where I'm at is officially "high" with a doubled risk of heart attack and headed towards real problems.

So... I've been eating fiber. Lots of fiber (no, no noticeable physical side effects- thanks for asking). Cutting down on the butter and fat (I love butter!)... I actually tasted the most hellacious fiber-rich, organic bran muffin the other day. Made it two bites and was done. There are other ways to get fiber.

Anyway... The goal is first to go back and get that $500,000, 30 year policy in a year. 
I really want to be covered through my 60's.
Then the goal is to live long enough to never collect.