Tuesday, August 01, 2006

More Thoughts on the Scary New Future


Some more thoughts on what the future of the church is going to look like, based on my reading of Leadership Next, by Eddie Gibbs.


"A “missional church” is one that focuses on “going forth” into the world, rather than looking inward to its own programs and plans."

"The gospel embraces so much more than just the important truth of making a decision for Christ. It is as much concerned about how we live our lives before death as with after death. In its true New Testament meaning, external life embraces the here and now, as a prelude to eternity."

"For younger leaders, the greatest concern isn't how to get people to come to church but how best to take the church into the world. Their emphasis is not on extraction from the world, but on engagement with society. This emphasis on engagement needs to be reflected in the church’s criteria for selecting leaders and training them for ministry. For example, those who seek ministry in the church as an escape from the pressures of secular employment need to be weeded out. At the same time, those offering themselves for ministry without any significant life experience outside of the church need to immerse themselves in the secular world – just as a missionary candidate would be encouraged to have prefield, crosscultural experience."

It is all going to be different folks, lets open our hearts and minds, and get ready.

For a wonderful and hauntingly sad example of resistance to change, go read this short story.

File under: Church Thoughts

Tipping the Table Over, Starting New


Over the past year, as our church has slowly been gaining its collective bearings, as the fog of confusion, and disagreement, and fighting has cleared, strangely, I keep thinking of the same mental image. Maybe this image is from God, maybe not. I don’t pretend to really know those times when God gives me ideas, much less tell other people that God told me something. But, I keep thinking about this image.

The image is twofold. First, is that of a table, that has been tipped over, its contents scattered on the floor around it.

The objects that used to be on this table were once very important to many people, and perhaps, things on the table had even represented “the sacred” to some. Things that were once neatly arranged, now throw to the floor in haphazard fashion, some broken, as if those things never really mattered for much in the first place. Could this be the traditions of our church?

Sometimes we Christian folk make these neat little place settings for ourselves, with all the components arranged so neatly; Martha Stewart would certainly call it a “good thing”. We have our neat little fellowship groups, and our Bible studies, and our men’s and women’s groups. Ushers, and deacons, and elders, Sunday school flannel-graph characters, age appropriate playground equipment, single’s ministries, pot luck dinners, “special music”, correct theology, guest speakers, noted scholars, and church leadership structures. All so ordered, so neat. It looks so good, we think. We think of ourselves as rather intelligent, contemporary, and fashionable, and even sometimes even relevant to the culture.

There is a new paradigm for church leadership, and Professor Eddie Gibbs talks about just these things in Leadership Next. I have to quote one bit here, it is just too good to ignore:

"…so much ministerial training has focused on caring for the flock of God and on maintaining the “shop”. So much of our traditional theological agenda has been shaped by a Christendom-context mentality and has been largely confined to an internal debate between various theological factions. A missional theology, on the other hand, focuses on dialogue with unbelievers and those of other religions."
The second part of the image I get is of that same table, set upright, cleaned off, and ready to accept a new place setting, this time with things that really matter. Could this be the agenda for the future of our church? Maybe these table images are in my head semi-balding head for a reason. Maybe Jesus is trying to tell me something new. Maybe I need to read that story of the money changers again, with new eyes. Maybe I need to think of that clean table, and set it with Kingdom things that really matter, not idle traditions devoid of meaning in the current culture. I am still trying to figure it all out.

One thing I do know. For our church to be vital, alive, and filled with Christ’s presence, its not going to look like it used to.

File under: Church Thoughts

Monday, July 31, 2006

Facing Fear, Silent Sentinels


The photo at left is the place I sit, to camp off a neighbor's wireless, so that I can post here, while on vacation. I know, I need to get a life, but blogging is a form of relaxation and therapy for me.

Silent Sentinels
In the midst of loss, and change, and moving forward, I have been thinking. Thinking about the quiet, subtle forces in my life that keep me from trying new things, working harder at relationships and friendships, and keep me from being a better man and a more loving parent. These forces, they act like silent sentinels that stand at points of change or opportunity in my life. They guard me from new things, from ideas that might be threatening, from people that would stretch me, or change me, or maybe even make me a better man than I am. I can’t really see them all, but I can identify a couple of them. So far, in the fog and mist of my often-inability to understand myself, I can name two of these sentinels; Fear and Complacency.

First, Fear. Maybe I am not so different from lots of people. I fear change, new things, places that make me feel uncomfortable. Nothing new for me, thank you. In my middle age, I find myself sometimes feeling comfortable in the familiar old ruts that I have worked hard over the years to cut deep in the soil of my life. It feels safe here.

Next, Complacency. This force is a good friend and ally of Fear. Everything is fine, just the way it is, thank you. Why would we want to change anything? And then there are the infamous words heard often in the American church for maybe more than 100 years, “We have never done it like THAT around here before!”

Ready, Set, Change Everything!
As I set out on our family vacation, I brought with me several books. The first book, that I am working through now, in the middle of enjoying family and time off is Leadership Next, by Professor Eddie Gibbs of Fuller Seminary. I was given this book, quite by chance, it seemed, to read as a part of my involvement with the School of Intercultural Studies at Fuller. But, there is no chance here, its much more like Providence.

As it turns out, this is a book about the future of the church, and the kind of new leaders that will lead this church. It is a book about the changes coming between the ideologies of modernism (read: my and my parents generation) and postmodernism (the future generations that will inherit the church).

If I can get some moments of clarity, and read through the lines, this is a book that is also about my silent friends, Fear and Complacency. They will not like the ideas in this book. These are Kingdom Ideas; big, wild, threatening, different, unfamiliar. Good ideas, ideas that inhabit the character of Christ. But in an interesting way, Old Ideas. Ideas that lead the early church that ended up changing the world through the birth and growth of Christianity. This is good stuff.

If I and lots of us complacent middle aged folk were to take these ideas seriously, maybe the church might be rebuilt. More soon.

File under: C
hurch Thoughts

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Take Off, Eh!


Our family is on vacation. After the events of the past couple of weeks, this is a welcome break.

The location of our holiday? The photo to the left provides a visual clue. Where else on the planet (save for Sweden, Finland, and Norway) could you find this large of a display of hockey sticks at Walmart in July?


The first comment to guess our location correctly wins a collectors edition hockey puck, autographed by me.

Friday, July 28, 2006

How Do You Say Thank You?


The past several weeks have been a time of sadness, loss, fear, and hope, all mixed together in ways that are still difficult for me to express. Sadness, loss, and fear in facing the death of my Mom. Hope in seeing God's real presence in the midst of this time. Writing down my feelings is hard, and saying them seems often even harder.

But there are, among many people, two women that I must thank here, in a public way, for the way in which they have loved my parents and me is something remarkable, and quite beyond my capability to understand.

First to my wife Nancy of nearly 18 years. You are my best friend, and I cannot imagine having faced the past several weeks without you. Thank you for the many ways in which you cared for both Mom and Dad, in the little ways and in the unnoticed details. You have been to me a help, a support, a friend, and a partner. You have been present in ways I am not capable of, and through it all, you did not loose your perspective on Kingdom things, or your patience with me; your sometimes difficult spouse.


And next, to Jill, our dear family friend and Pastor-to-be. Clearly, beyond a shadow of a doubt, you are called to care for others, love the unlovely, and be a shepherd. You have loved me, my girls, my wife, and my parents in ways that speak clearly of the character of Jesus. You are kind, gracious, caring, persistent, and wonderful, all together. I am so very thankful that Nancy and I said "yes" to your need for a room, almost four years ago. We all have been blessed beyond measure.

Nancy and Jill, in just the past weeks, you have shown me more about what love means than years of reading about it, studying it, and trying to live it out. You both, in your unique way, have been Christ to me. I am forever thankful. May my life reflect that thankgiving to others.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Elizabeth Lee Norris 1921-2006


Elizabeth Lee Partridge was born on April 18, 1921 in Los Angeles, California. She attended Los Angeles High School, and then USC, where she majored in Art. After a career in modeling, she married Roland Norris of Whittier, California in 1957. Her only son, Steven Roland Norris was born in 1958.

Betty, as she was known by family and friends, was a loving wife, mother, homemaker, friend, and accomplished artist. Her home was filled with oil paintings she had completed over a span of almost 20 years. She was active in the alumni chapter of Kappa Alpha Theta, her sorority at USC.

Betty is preceded in death by her brother Ted, and is survived by her husband of 49 years, Roland Norris, her son, Steven Norris, her brother George Partridge, and her grandchildren, Kelly Lynne Norris and Heather Ruth Norris. At her request, no services are scheduled.

Betty was my Mom. She will be greatly missed by us all.

Friday, July 21, 2006

Nearing The End



For those of you who know me well, you also know that my Mom, 85, has been in failing health for some time now. I have described this before here, by way of some background.

Mom is now in hospice care. She is clearly in her last days, and I do not have clever, or meaningful, or insightful things to say about this. It is not pretty, but I find this time, this experience of the end of my mother's life to be filled with a sense of God's care, in a way I would never have expected.

If you feel lead, please pray for a safe and peaceful transition for my Mom. Her name is Betty.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Softball, Sam, and Community


The past week has been Softball All Star week in our town. The South Pasadena 10-12 year old All Star team just won their section game tonight. Our daughter Heather is playing first base for the team, and this weekend we advance to Regional Playoffs. Undefeated, so far!

This is the kind of stuff that makes us glad to live in South Pasadena; great girls, a wonderful coach, and a community that bonds together to support each other.

Another huge part of our town is meeting those unsung everyday heroes that give of themselves in big and small ways. What could be better than an evening at Orange Grove Park watching the girls play, with an outstanding barbecued burger from the snack stand. And who does the barbecuing, year after year, for no pay other than the smiles and thanks and hugs he gets from every girl on almost every team in the league.


Meet Sam Hernandez, husband, father, general contractor, and everyday hero. Our girls have been playing softball for almost 10 years, and nearly every one of those years, Sam has been at the ball field every night and weekend, grilling burgers for the kids, and parents, and grandparents, passing out hugs and making new friends.

This is the stuff of what community really means. People who know your name, who are glad you showed up at the ball park, ask about your kids, and provide a loving environment for kids to grow up in.

Sam is an example to me, and his example makes me glad that I live in this town.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Doubting Thomas


I heard a song today that went right to the heart of who I am, and where my life is leading these days.

My Mom, 85, lies in the hospital today, and has for the past five days. She is "failing to thrive". She has lost a lot of weight, can no longer walk, and eats only small amounts each day. Only the Lord knows what each day going forward holds for her, and for all of us. All of us. Everyday.

And then, I heard this song.


By way of background, our daughter Kelly went to hear Nickel Creek at the House of Blues earlier this week, and she made me a CD of their music, which I have enjoyed hearing in the past. Mysterious lyrics that make you think. Perhaps Heaven does come close to Earth more than we think. Perhaps there is Something much larger than we could ever know of.

As I am returning from my Mom's bedside this afternoon,
this song came on. Doubting Thomas. That is often me. Doubting. But strangely in this past week, I am doubting some things less, and understanding God as the Author of Life in new ways that I did not understand before.


what will be left when I've drawn my last breath,
besides the folks I've met and the folks who know me,
will i discover a soul cleansing love,
or just the dirt above and below me,

please give me time to decipher the signs,
please forgive me for time that I've wasted,
I'm a doubting Thomas,
i took a promise,
but i don't know what's safe,
oh me of little faith,

Now forgive me, but this was clearly something Providential - in my hearing THIS song at just THIS point in my life. Turns out something else is going on with the origins of Nickel Creek.
Go here to read about it.

Help me Lord, with my unbelief. I will follow You, even if it makes no sense. Even if it is too big, or scary, or weird for me to understand. I will follow You.

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Thursday, July 13, 2006

Thankful for a Memory, Waiting on the Sky



Tonight, I went to the softball field, to pick up Heather (12) from practice. Tomorrow is her first inter-league All-Star softball game tomorrow night. Lately, Kelly (15) always asks to come along for the ride to the field. For this simply mercy of time together, I am thankful. As we drove across town, an old memory suddenly bubbled up to the surface of my brain.

On July 23, 1995, an unusually bright comet outside of Jupiter's orbit was discovered independently by Alan Hale, New Mexico and Thomas Bopp, Arizona. The new comet, designated C/1995 O1, is the farthest comet ever discovered by amateurs, and appeared 1000 times brighter than Comet Halley did at the same distance. I was fascinated by this, and remember reading about it, and finding out exactly when it would be visible from our town. To me, there is something amazing about comets.

In the car on the way to the ballfield, I turned to Kelly and said, "Do you remember, a long time ago, when you and I climbed to up to the water tower, and waited for the comet to appear in the night sky?" Kelly did remember. We both smiled; Kelly, thinking of her impossibly dorky father, and me, giving quiet thanks for a small moments like these of shared memories, and for the simple grace of the memory itself.

Kelly was about six, as I recall, when we climbed up to the top of the hill with the water tower in our town. It was a fall night, and we waited for dusk to come and kept gazing to the northwest, where the comet would be visible. We waited, and waited. This was in the time when Kelly was far more patient with her science-fan Dad. Sure enough, as the sun went down, we saw the comet in the northwestern sky, low over the hills that border Pasadena.

A comet, possibly formed near Neptune, possibly 4.5 billion years ago. A father and his daughter, standing on a hill in a big city, straining to see the light produced by this comet 4.5 billion years later. I remember talking about how long it took the light from the comet to reach earth.

My heart is strangely warmed with this memory. How is it that I have been so blessed to wait on a hill with a lovely view of Pasadena, with a wonderful six year old, waiting for a comet? All those years ago.

It is all a wonderful mystery to me.

Monday, July 10, 2006

These Faces





Yesterday was a very interesting day. In the span of 24 hours, I:




  • Spent time with young couples, pondering what solitude means
  • had the priviledge of participating in the baptism of a little Korean 1-year old adopted by an amazingly loving family
  • laughed with friends
  • barbecued hamburgers for about 15 guests
  • got elbowed in the eye by my daughter playing the pool (and have the shiner to show for it)
  • played with babies in the water
  • had to negotiate with a somewhat difficult teenage daughter
  • stood at the bedside of my mom, whose health continues to deteriorate.

When I think back on it all, it's really hard to believe that my life is this full, this varied. And here is something interesting, as well. In all these things, the sprinkling of water, the cooking of food, the laughing, the grieving, Christ is present. It may not always feel like it, but He is there, if we will stop, and wait, and look.

He is in the eyes of the dying, the touch of water on the head of the child who has come half-way around the world to find a new life, in the smile and laugh of a new friend. In the joy of young friends turning circles in the pool and yelling "Maaarco......Polo!", and in the eyes of my Mom, tired and weary from life's journey.

He is there. Christ is here. I find it interesting that Jesus did not tell us. "The Kingdom of God is coming, just wait." Nope. He told us that the Kingdom is near, at hand. And so, it is.

Mom is back in the hospital; we will need to find her a different place to live now, perhaps some form of skilled nursing environment.

Our friends had a blast in the pool. My black eye looks cool. The babies went home, and had naps.

And, at the end of the day, for me, a gift. As I headed upstairs to bed around midnight, I stopped by the rooms of our girls. Two sleeping faces, completely at peace. Faces I have know so well, and loved, and wept for, and laughed with, and enjoyed now for a good many years. Both gifts. Both who do not belong to me. They belong to God.

Amen.

File under: Parental Musing, Thankfulness

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