Wonderings & Wanderings

Farewell to the Harbers

Farewell to Alyson, Eric, Ryan, Serena, and Jo-Jo Harber — wonderful friends who moved this week to Seattle.

We spent much of the last week trying to say farewell these friends. The operative word in that last sentence was "trying." We had several fun dinners, spent a weekend together while our boys played in a soccer tournament, played a few practical jokes (The Conders paid back an old debt of a really clever anti-Carolina song written by the Harbers to the tune of "Jingle Bells" by our own desecration of a Christian praise song tune with lyrics defaming Duke and Coach K), gave and received some hugs, shed some tears, and offered a few words in an attempt to summarize the breadth of our friendship. But you really can't adequately say farewell to friends to have deeply affected your life. I'll venture one more college try at farewell by trying to share a bit of what we learned in this friendship.

The Harbers helped expose some of the deepest maladies that afflict our family — our independence and self-sufficiency. We're pretty good at helping others out. But when it comes to our needs, we like to "go it alone." We're the family who buys the chainsaw to use once in a while but also to make available to our neighbors whenever they need it. We're great at lending but not so good at borrowing or asking for help. We like to feel sufficient and capable to meet all of the demands of life, even in the times when those demands come in overwhelming waves. Alyson and Eric are friends that insisted on helping out during those times. You know what kind of friendship I'm describing — the friends who drive your kids to events, games, and parties when you're too tired or overcommitted to attend — the friends who cheer as vehemently for your children as they do their own — the friends who applaud the gifts of your kids and love them despite their weaknesses — the friends who help out and don't keep score — the kind of friends who know you and still love you.

I want to thank the Harbers for being friends (among several others) who have taught us that life is so much better when shared — that self-sufficiency and independence rob us of the joy of receiving the love and presence of others in your life — that the challenges of life are only managable in community. This was only a portion of our friendship. We will miss all the other laughs, the Monday night dinners at Moe's ("Welcome to Moe's!), the soccer sideline conversations of matters great and small, our Duke vs. Carolina taunting, and most of all the opportunity to share life regularly with you.

May you find the embrace of the kind of community you extended here to so many in your new home. You will be missed but our lives remain fuller because of this friendship. We will eagerly await your returns.

Tim

"We approved this advertisement on love, friendship, and community"
- Mimi, Keenan, and Kendall

New Paths - Old Paths

I have been leading an "emerging church initiative" for the Chapel Hill Bible Church for the past five months. Sadly, I occasionally lose sight of the significance and gift of this opportunity. The Chapel Hill Bible Church has been an extremely unique and effective church in a collegiate community for more than thirty years (they made some decisions in the 70's that even courageous church today might forego). It is rare that churches that have a legacy of effectiveness are willing to consider new paths of ministry. But CHBC has been willing to allow me to reshape my time this year to imagine new trajectories and possibilites of community and mission. This is truly a gift.

In February, I pulled together a fairly diverse group of twelve persons to begin dreaming about possibilities and new horizons of ministry for our community. Our initial thoughts were very different. But, over time, it has been truly exciting to see some consensus form in this group. Tonight we meet to discuss and probably affirm a ministry proposal for CHBC.

This ministry proposal blesses a series of partnerships with our initiative and existing ministries in our church (trying to avoid make the emerging church initiative as a new thing that competes with rather than complements our ministries). The proposal also challenges our fellowship to move into new ground in areas of mission, spiritual formation, community, and worship (hopefully striking a balance between all of these critical components).

Who knows — these ideas could certainly fail. Not a day passes that I do not contemplate some of the huge differences between some of the thoughts and practices that have formed in emerging church circles and some of the presuppositions of existing churches like ours. I have written often (and hopefully gently) in this space about some of those differences. But ever the optimist, I am drawn to the possibility of churches like ours (churches with a history of risk-taking and innovation) helping to mark the path of change for Christian community as our culture rapidly transitions into a different era. I don't consider us necessarily the leaders or trailblazers in this transition. But, nonetheless, I believe the path we could mark is a significant one.

The Christian church, flaws notwithstanding, has had a history of Spirit led transition and adaptation. I still have confidence in the church. I also feel the need for folks like myself (who have been in the "emerging church" and before that the "postmodern church" conversation — who knows what will be next! — for some time) to bless and affirm the existing church. Innovation, creativity, and transition are not antithetical to affirmation of the historical narrative of Christian community and its impact on our society. In truth, I believe that a blessing of the past is a critical element of appropriate change. One of my entry points into the emerging church conversation was its passionate interest in the historical church.

In leading our initiative in Chapel Hill, I have become aware of how frustrating and even insulting the term "emerging church" can be for some. It can sound like a brash critique of the church's ancient and recent legacy — some naive trumpet blast proclaiming that "we have invented something new that can be disassociated from its roots!" I have had this experience numerous times in professional meetings — hearing a new idea being championed that we had practiced for many years. The tone of innovation and change can be abrasive. I certainly apologize for the ba-gillion times that I do this! But, transition and innovation are truly exciting. When it is all said and done — I wonder if we (we, the church) will realize how many times we oppose or at the bare minimum badger Spirit-led changes. I am enthused beyond any expectation that I had twenty years ago to see how the church in our culture is adapting. I am more confident in church now than I ever was as a teen in the 70's or a young pastor in the 80's. Much good lies ahead. Many new paths and thoughts are springing before us. New opportunities abound. It is good to be on this path.

Sacred and Secular?

For those who are in the church or live in some level of Christian community, it is common to refer to the forces and realities outside of Christian community as "the world" or "the culture." Typically our references are perjorative and our expectations fearful.

It is very true and appropriate that we make some very special theological affirmations about those within the church —
• We say that we are "in Christ" meaning that we are in relationship with Jesus and a triune God — we are joined to God!
• We might also say that we "walk in God's Spirit" meaning that we are in some manner recipients of God's Spirit (God's Spirit dwells within us).
These are critical affirmations that make knowing and experiencing God a source of joy, a unique privilege, and the defining mark of one's existence. These theological realites distinguish Christ followers from those who do not accept or find this path.

Even with these theological affirmations in mind, it can be very unfortunate for Christ followers to always use negative languages or tones to refer to the culture around us. When we do so, we often set up a false dichotomy between the sacred and secular in culture. From my experience, the things I might call "sacred" sometimes don't seem so sacred. Often I am moved by how "sacred" certain aspects of our "secular" culture have become.

An old but favorite example — I remember the first time that I read John Irving's "A Prayer for Owen Meany." I don't know if I'll ever be as moved by a Christ figure in literature as I was by Irving's diminutive, prophetic character, Owen Meany. After finishing this novel (about 12 years ago), I was so shaken that I took a day off (it was no choice, I wasn't able to work) to mourn, contemplate, and enjoy aspects of the Christ narrative that are so often lost to me. (For those of you who are Owen Meany fans, I keep a bronze armadillo on my desk at home to remind me of Owen, the voice, the shot, and the power of this narrative!) This work is sacred and secular. It is a powerful and prophetic voice of the Christian narrative and God's redemptive heart from an unexpected source. John Irving does not need to convert (I know nothing of his spiritual commitments) for this to become sacred.

I'm nervous that our tone and language about culture can blind us to a series of critical realities. When we demand a constant and sharp dichotomy between the sacred and secular, we heighten the following risks:

• We can become oblivious to the ways that Christian community is shaped by the assumptions of our culture that are antithetical to the gospel. Make no mistake, many of our cultural assumptions war against the soul of the gospel. We can be blind to how consumerism, the American dream, individualism, self-help, relentless busyness, and socio-economic stratification have become codified and even blessed in Christian community.

• We can diminish God as Creator and redeemer. God is the creator of our whole world — all who follow God's way and all those who reject the gospel narrative, our environment and world as well as those who live in it, and every community and nation in our world. God's redemptive hopes and plans include all of creation. God's love goes way beyond those who are Christ followers and the communites and products that we call "sacred."

• We can diminish the Scriptures and the texts we call sacred. The power of these texts is that they come to us in human language and in a human context. They are another act of incarnation. They remind of us a God who speaks understandably to us and intervenes in our lives. I accept the authority of the Scriptures because there is so much "non-sacred" material in them, so much truth about our lives and the world we have created, so much mystery, so much that confounds my logic.

• We can limit God's voice and invitation in our lives. God's voice comes to us in so many ways beyond the (seemingly) safe confines of sacred community. Through artists, writers, politicians, critics, and even national enemies — God speaks. Israel had this experience so often — God's word and direction coming from the mouths of their enemies.

So let's not be naive to the aspects of our culture found outside and inside Christian community that dull us to God's voice and manipulate or even contradict the gospel. But let's also not create language that limits God's redemptive voice in our lives and community.

So go out and see "Saved" and ask where is God's voice in this parody. Read, write, interpret, create, form community, and think with a perspective shaped by God's redemptive narrative. God's voice is pleading, shouting, laughing, cajoling, provoking, comforting, and inviting us in so many places — many places that we do not expect. But, isn't that the great part, expecting a stone and receiving bread in even desolate places.

Gifting and Receiving: Deconstructing our "Conditionality"

Yesterday I wrote about the importance of receiving as an act of community. For folks like me, no act of community (besides "asking for help" — a heightened risk and experience of receiving) is more difficult. Why is receiving gifts (and asking for help) so difficult for so many?

Some Answers:
• Personal tendencies and struggles: shyness, insecurity, insignificance
• Our independence (the James Bond myth that so many of us live out where we like to imagine or portray that we can handle any contingency) is threatened
• Fear of being "known" — the fear of being truly in community

I believe that all of the above are true — they are all true in their application to me and my life on occasion. But, here is another possible answer with some significant implications for life in the church and Christian community —
• We've been hurt, manipulated, and even violated by the "gifts" of others!

How often have gifts come with strings, conditions, or expectations? Every day we receive such "gifts." Jack Caputo, a Professor of Philosophy recently at Villanova University, led seminars at this year's Emergent Conventions (emergentvillage.com or youthspecialties.com) entitled "Why the Church Deserves Deconstruction." Our theology of gifting, receiving, and faith is one of the reasons he cites as justification for a bit of deconstruction. As background, he mentioned that the word for "gift" in many languages is also used on occasion for "violence" or "poison." So often gifts are used to burden, manipulate, or control the lives of others to justify this expanded range of meaning for the word. In most societies, we limit gifting and forbid those who hold certain offices or positions from receiving gifts for this reason.

This link between gift giving and receiving and conditionality is fully engrained in our experiences and expectations. When given random or unexepected gifts, we are hardwired to ask, "What does the giver want?" This expectation and fear certainly thrives in our theology and Christian practices. How often do we think of God's gifts from the vantage points of expectation and obligation? Our thoughts or language of "God deserves," "I know I ought to...," "the church expects," or "I feel guilty that..." generally betray a theology of conditionality. Our theologies of conditionality can turn God into a manipulative or even violent giver. This seems so contrary to the ministry of Jesus who gave to so much to so many who understood or practiced so little. Jesus' harshest words (not offered to his executioners or the crowd who demanded his death) were reserved for the religious elite who lived in a world of received conditionality from God and taught conditionality to the people (see Jesus' "brood of vipers" rant in Matthew 23!).

The most sacred elements of our theology can be expressed in this dangerous conditionality.
• "My faith is a result of my wise or lucky responses to God."
• "My salvation is a condition of my response to God."
• "My participation in Christian community is the result of my choices, maturity, knowledge, gifts, or fruitfulness of my actions."
Each of these expressions can diminish God as a conditional giver.

Perhaps this is why we fear receiving from God or God's people. Maybe we can't live up to the expectations. Maybe we've ignored the prerequisites.

I have a friend who has family who manipulate constantly through gifts. This friend has the following recurrent nightmare and "rest dream." The nightmare is that every time this person leaves home, he or she returns to new gifts of furniture piled up in the remaining living space of the home — the hellish experience of having the soul space of life choked by conditional gifts. The restful dream involves wandering through his or her home and occasionally finding previously undiscovered and empty rooms — the heaven of discovery and freedom of space and expression.

This latter dream fits Jesus' portrait of God — a reckless, foolish and obsessive giver (reckless and foolish because we are the recipients and the gifts are given without expectation — without having us sign on the dotted line!).

The sacred acts of Christian community include the discipline of giving without conditionality and receiving without fear! I believe that a life rule that included these practices would be utterly transformative.

Paint Crew

The hardest aspect of community — well, at least for me (and Mimi) — is receiving. It seems so much more comfortable (for us) to observe or anticipate someone else's need and to act by giving. Little wonder that I ended up in professional ministry... This past weekend though we did some receiving. Besides the desire to express gratitude, I wanted to mark this event as a reminder to those who are constant doers, that receiving is also a sacred act of community.

We have been renovating our home for almost three years — and endless stream of tasks, contractors, and CHAOS. For those of you who know me well, you know that chaos is my mortal enemy. Many who come into my office often offer a variation of this comment: "If it weren't for all the books in your office, I would think you were unemployed." I know, neat desk — sick mind — or at least some form of latent control freek.

Our latest round of chaos had included ripping out all of our upstairs carpet and painting these rooms before the new carpet is put in. We have the classic 80's home — stained ceiling molding, chair rails, floor molding, and endless wood (thank goodness it only needs about 4-6 coats of primer and paint to cover the stain — unambiguous sarcasm intended). After our a few foundation repairs, most of our walls need some measure of repairing before painting can begin. It's a job! Our son, Keenan has been out of his room for 5 months (most of his belongings in my office — which I love!) as this project as has been interrupted by numerous urgencies.

We have been reaching the end of our rope on this one. So Saturday we put out a plea for help and about 10 painters responded to our pleas. Ten friends accomplished in an afternoon what would have taken about a month for us to do. What a gift! We're still working, but we are so much closer to the finish line on this project. We're thankful for this help. But, as we debriefed the day on Saturday evening, Mimi and I both commented on the most significant gift — the reminder that receiving is an element of living in community.

Tomorrow, or later this week, I want to post some theological comments on "gifts, receiving, and community." I have recently listened to Jack Caputo's seminar (from the Emergent Convention) entitled "Why the Church deserves Deconstruction." He has some very profound thoughts of why we can be reluctant to receive — and how our theology and practices can so often reinforce this reluctance. Caputo is a philosopher from Villanova Universtiy.

Discernment and Community

Whenever I have to make a hard decision, I always feel some accumulation of personal strain and pressure. What if I make the wrong call? What if my ability to discern God's voice is impaired by ambitions, entitlements, short-sightedness, or fears?

In reflection, I often chide myself for my tendency to forget the role of community in discernment. My experience in the last few years is a constant reminder that we hear God in community — we interpret the contexts of our personal lives, our culture, and the Scriptures best in community. My experiences with community and discernment have been so positive that it reaches the level of sad humor that my predisposition seems so oriented toward taking the pressure of decisions and making decisions individually.

The work of the vision community for our church's emerging culture initiative provides a powerful case in point (and provokes today's posting). This community gathered in February and we have been meeting every two weeks with the expressed goal of proposing an emerging culture ministry plan for the Chapel Hill Bible Church. Over the last five months, I have watched this diverse group (diverse in interests, faith stories, age, gender, and life situation) become a community that listened to each other and remained committed to listening to God — despite my efforts to the contrary. As usual, I showed up ready to explain rationales, prod for opportunities, and to guide us to a "decision" (all the while, feeling strong pressure to come up with "the plan" that all would accept and even eagerly join). But this community constantly offered these words to me (and to each other):
• "Let's make sure that we sacrifice and lead as a community!"
• "Let's be careful not to orchestrate our own agenda without discerning God's agenda and patterns of God's ongoing work in this endeavor.
• "Let's make sure that we consider other communites who share this burden."
• "Let's also consider communities who fear the emerging culture and a ministry agenda directed toward the emerging culture."
• "How will concerted effort in the emerging culture affect other unrelated initiatives in our fellowship and community."

The results of our time together have not been surprising (based on past experience) but have been confounding (in respect to my utter determination to lead individually). When we first met, the group shared their personal hopes and passions about an emerging culture ministry. As I heard these thoughts expressed, my first reaction was that we would never reach a consensus. But, once again, I have experienced a community committed to the spiritual disciplines of community being guided to not only near consensus but also enthusiasm for the process and potential outcomes. Once again, community operates as a recipient of God's presence and guidance and as an interpretative balance to our personal understandings of God's will. Given my predispositions to individualism, I'm sure this will be a lesson I continue to learn.

The good news (already implied) is that the Emerging Culture Team is almost ready to make a recommendation to our leadership. We will meet on July 15 to hopefully complete a proposal and ministry plan that we would then take our church's leadership. We are eager to share our thoughts and visions with you and we are eager to include many of you in this vision. Thanks for your patience and your interest.