Wonderings & Wanderings

Capital Punishment & Emmaus Way

In recent weeks, we've had several opportunities to react to the death penalty in NC.  Our friends at Rutba House, an intentional community just down the street, have formed a coaltion to protest the wave of recent executions at Central Prison in Raleigh.  Several Emmaus Way community members have acted on their conscience and have joined the protests.  Just last night, we provided food for a gathering of this coalition.

So do we have an official position on capital punishment?  Do you have to oppose the death penalty to be a part of our community? 

The blunt answers are, "no" and "no." 

But there is so much more to say. We strive to be a community of activists.  As a result, we are excited when Emmaus Way steps out based on conscience shaped by an understanding of God's heart and vision to respond to the ills and pains of our community and world.  Several in our community feel prayerfully compelled to activism in this arena.  I certainly applaude their conviction and courage.

There is another value, perhaps a hidden value, that needs to be highlighted.  That value is honest dialogue as a component of mission in the ways of Jesus.  One of my greatest critiques of many churches in our culture is the maintenance of the myth of consensus and uniformity that so often precludes honest dialogue and missional risks.  Let me explain a bit...

Whether liberal or conservative, free or episcopal, protestant or Catholic — the modern church is a doctrinally-driven church.  This is one of the strong legacies of the reformation (regardless of which side of the reformation you are on).  The engine that drives so many churches is the expectation of doctrinal conformity.  We join our churches by doctrinal affirmation.  Leaders find respect and positions of responsibility (along with several other important qualifications) by affirming the doctrinal stream of the fellowship and being able to communicate this tradition.    This doctrinal impulse creates an aura of uniformity and consensus. 

After serving for 20 years in large, mainstream evangelical churches, my view from the inside reveals that homogeneity even in doctrine and essential beliefs is a myth.  The diversity in even "essentials" is astounding.  I can't tell you how many times I've heard statements like this whispered in my office:  "I know I'm supposed to believe in hell — but I don't and I can't." 

The need for uniformity and the intuitive sense of many in Christian churches of diversity combine to put a lid on honest dialogue about critical theological, political, and social issues.  This "lid" is strongly accentuated by the strong attachment of special politcal social positions to the core doctrine of most churches.

For example in some churches, you had better be "pro-life"  or if not keep really quiet.  In the church across the street, a "pro-choice" verdict is a social, theological essential.  This divisiveness and inertia holds to form for Republican/Democratic alliegances, views of homosexuality, and - issues like capital punishment. So we stay silent in our churches. 

We live in a culture that has lost its ability to dialogue in the midst of differences and instead of teaching this very-Jesus-like skill and leading, we are quiet.  There are grave consequences in our mission because of this silence.  Consensus so often drives our mission.  Or better said, it impedes mission.  No longer can we risk or act on faith impulses where there is no consensus. 

I cannot tell how many missional opportunities I have seen missed because of the lack of consensus, the lack of dialogue that would clarify the goals of the opportunity, or the fear of taking a risk.  I serve on Durham's MLK Steering Committee.  I was shocked in my first meeting to hear that some white churches had turned the opportunity to host an MLK event because there was not a consensus on MLK's legacy.  He was and remains controversial for some.  Hence, a wonderful opportunity that most would embrace results in a painful rejection. 

What is Emmaus Way's hope in regards to social issues that divide us?  Simply - we hope to talk about them in a manner that informs, builds community, inspires mission, and — on occasion — precludes missional activity.  Dialogue can be a great friend to wisdom and caution. 

In doing so, I think we will take a bold step away from the norm.  Dialogue in arenas of emotion and division is a deviation from the norm that churches in the emerging culture must take.  Postmodernism, is, if anything, an era of divergent experiences and stories.  The failure to let people tell these stories and share these experiences will be a great failure to accessible and authentic in a post-modern, post-reformation, post-Enligthenment culture. 

Finally, on capital punishment...I invite our community to begin talking - in this space, face-to-face, and in public arenas.  Let's find the time and places to explore this issue that inspired some to protest.  What can we learn from them?  Are there cautions to present?  Are there perspectives that we are missing?  This is a task and privilege that we entirely capable of  fulfilling. Peace, Tim 

Numbers 13-14

I've been thinking about last night's worship gathering of Emmaus Way all day...

Last night, we focused our dialogue on the challenging narrative of Numbers 13-14 (Here's the Reader's Digest version: Israel spies out the land of Canaan, the people revolt in fear due to the desriptions of the size and armament of the inhabitants of the land they are to take, God declares that no one over the age of 20 will ever inherit this land since the people will wander for 40 years in the desert).

In our dialogue, we reframed our understanding of the wilderness as more than mere punishment (granted the passage has more than its fair share of "rotting-corpses-in-the-desert" imagery!),  And granted, this text is as troubling as any in the Bible in some ways.  (After our gathering, several of us commented on the irony of God's blessing of the whole world in a text that asks a people to go and take the sword to another.)

Horrific images of punishment and divine mandates notwithstanding, my reading of this text centers on the people of Israel's lack of preparation to receive God's blessing of a land. The Wilderness become a place and state of preparation. The Wilderness also becomes a place restored imagination.

Over the past month, we have discussed at length one reality of life in an empire, namely that our ability to imagine and experience God's healing and redemptive work is impaired or even lost. The Israelites had so lost their vision of the future, that they preferred death in the wildnerness or a return to slavery in Egypt over receiving God's great blessing of a land so filled with fruitfulness and resources (apparently the spies found a cluster of grapes so large that it took two to carry it!).

Of course, this is our reality as well. We become so entwined in individualism, nationalism, consumerism, competition, and so much more that we can't imagine greater realities - healing, justice, contentment, community, and blessing of God's grace in our world. This is where worship becomes so essential. Formal worship and our life posture as a community who acknowledges God's grace and healing are antidotes to the numbing effect of empire.

Last night we talked about two barriers to this redemptive imagination...FEAR ( the fear that no healing or salvation occurs) or CONTENTMENT (the belief that our imperial lives are the pinnacle of human existance).

Over dinner, we commented how often our worship lives reinforce these barriers. In some settings, worship is journey down an avenue of horrors that feed the fears the paralyze our imagination and destroy our hope.

I can just hear the preachers of my childhood harping on the litany of plagues and corpses strewn through the desert as evidence of an angry God- the fate of all who refuse who come to church, tithe, or life moral lives. The tune of "I wish we'd all been ready" is starting to fill my mind.

But more likely for most of us, we find worship environments that feed our contentment. Many of by accident of birth into upper middle class homes which offered a myriad of opportunities see our lives as the essence of being blessed by God. We've found it - the redemptive vision. No wilderness for us. So much of our worship affirms or even baptizes this flawed vision. Our songs and forms exist to comfort us and affirm our lives. Entertainment, enjoyment, and cathartic experience all become unspoken goals.

This, of course, is not even remotely a prophetic point.  So many have said the same and better.

Wade and I have spoken of this many times. As a gifted performer who spent two decades touring (as "The Basics" with his wife Kelly) and as a producer, he is so aware of the formulas to comfort and entertain. Commenting last night, he expressed thanks for not being "a hired jukebox" who cranks out seven song sets to affirm our contentment or "set the stage" for something truly important(!).

I thought the music last night - lyrics and tone — were such a powerful catalyst to move us from our fears and contentment. The range included pop, a cherished U2 anthem from the 80's, and folk. Each song was well chosen to challenge our contentment, give voice to our fears (so that they don't rule us), give freedom to pursue joy, and the confront some the great mysteries of God's intersection in our lives. As a friend said last night, "why doesn't a God who the power to shape the constellations intervene more in the evils of this world?"

Our course our gathered worship is far more than just music (a horrific reduction in many communities). Last night we heard a wonderful story of mission and redemption from our friends at One World Market. Laura Wendell, the Executive Director, came to thank us for our partnership in helping them sell goods from all over the world at fair prices.

When we gather weekly over the communion table, we engage the great mystery of God's presence in our lives, community, and world. We are faced with reality that we so often resist, that God sustains rather than our own gifts and ingenuities. The Eucharist simultaneously assuages our fear (being reminded of God's provision) and confronts our contentment (by describing a reality of sacrifice that is so often absent from contented lives). The Eucharist is a act of acceptance and rebellion wrapped in the common act of eating and drinking.

Our challenge is to form communities to function like the duality of the Eucharist and the wilderness in the Old Testament narrative.  We need communities that guide us to avoid the paralysis and hopeless of fear while also relentlessly confronting our contentment and entitlement.

 

Praying at Antioch

On Wednesday Night, four friends from Emmaus Way and I joined Antioch Baptist Church in a prayer gathering - truly a prayer march.   Antioch is a primarily African-American church in Northeast Central Durham - one of Durham's most underserved communities.  A group of around 50 disciples (that is the best definition I can think of for the adults, youth, and children who comprise Antioch's prayer ministry) gathered on a small lot just North of Antioch's building to pray.  Over the next hour, we moved around their building to pray on each point of the compass.  This movement of prayer gave us a wider perspective on the neighborhood, offered opportunity to collect a few passers-by into our circle, and gave us a sense of the infinite trajectories of God's mercy and purposes.

Our community at Emmaus Way has been invited for the past month to join Antioch in a special season of prayer.  Rev. Michael Page had just formed six prayer cells to help Antioch discern their place in God's will for their community.  Our invitation came on the heels of a lunch where Michael and I discussed the future possibilities of our ministry partnership.  We have many future activities planned with Antioch — gleaning, a Christmas Day dinner for the neighborhood, and a summer math/science camp for local middle schoolers.  But this collaboration certainly has meant the most to me.

Antioch has asked that we take time to join with them in listening to God.  Listening for opportunities, responsibilities, and the gentle words of "I love you" from God.  I confess that I'm much better in building networks, forming strategies, and making plans a reality than often listening to God beforehand.  A valuable lesson taught and learned once again.

The passion of the prayers that we have joined this past month are another reminder that we live sustained by God and clinging to God's grace.  Two huge hurricanes and tsunami should reinforce that lesson.  But I forget it - daily.   

Save Us - The Search for Generous Dialogue

Comments...

Overheard at "Bean Traders" - the coffeehouse that connects to my office:
"Some Christian just tried to save my soul. Don't those fools know they're the ones who need to be
saved!"

After the Derek Webb concert on our deck behind 9th St, Sam, one of the other tenants in the building and a practicing Hindu, asks...
"Was this a 'no pagans allowed' event?"

Tim's pithy reply...
"It was BYOP. I would have invited you, but I think I was already someone's guest!"

From the film "Saved" — Mary, a senior at American Eagle Christian High School, fearing that she's pregnant and hoping for another explanation for her morning sickness:
"Oh, please, please, let it be cancer!"

Also from the film "Saved" — Tia to Mary while inviting her to a prayer circle for Mary's boyfriend:
"I'm sorry about your boyfriend's faggotry."

That might have been the point when the film's dialogue went over the top. I don't know many teens who liberally use the terms "faggotry," "fornicators," and "perverts" like the in-crowd at American Eagle High School. Or do I? When our group watched this movie on Saturday night, many us freely admitted that we are expatriots from the school of harsh religious dialogue. "Saved" is stereotypical, overly stylized, and entirely predictable at times. But the humor and the power of the movie resides in its stereotypes and the frequency of these heinous offenses in the dialogue between church and culture in the present.

The reactions to the film were varied. A few were offended and felt the need to defend the portions of Christian theology that were manipulated or skewed. Others wondered if anyone was that self-righteous and hypocritical. Sadly, I would have to argue against the latter point. Most affirmed, with no small measure of disappointment the accuracy of many of the stereotypes of the film.

Saved is certainly a religious remake of the genre of teen comedy that made John Hughes famous. The outsiders become the insiders. The insiders are publicly punished for their transgressions. The morally self-righteous are shown to be at best inconsistent, at their worst morally bankrupt. Friendship is sufficient to overcome the injustices of the teen social world without challenging the sacred value of personal autonomy. And, of course, the "right" couples get together at the end.

For our viewing crew, we lamented the state of the dialogue between the Christian community and our culture - morally, socially, artistically, and politically. If anything, this teen spoof is one more reminder of the desperate need to fashion a new dialogue between these parties.

Several asked on Saturday evening what this dialogue would look like. I have many opinions on this.

•A new dialogue between Christians and our culture would have a strong sense of "shared place" and "sacred place." By shared space, I mean that we cannot see ourselves as the rightful owners of our cultural values and cultural idioms. This sense of ownership drives us to not only inhospitality to those with whom we disagree, but to intentional efforts to eradicate these voices. Often the church's language and posture with its surrounding culture is militaristic. We dream of beating our "adversaries" with the bare minimum of marginaliziong and colonizing those who don't admit defeat. A sense of sacred space would acknowlege own ideological space while also acknowledging the ideological space of others. Sacred space calls us act respectfully while in the living room of another. Stanley Hauerwas and others have written powerfully and persuasively that we should see ourselves as aliens and strangers in this land. Such a recognition frees us to authenticity in our space, respect in the space of others, and collaboration in shared space.

•This new dialogue should be driven by the collaboration of needs and urgencies that we find in the shared space of our world. We have so many shared needs - the environment, the global impact of poverty and injustice, human dignity, and primary human needs. The urgencies of the shared space are so great that it makes little sense to spend all of our time in arenas of philosphical/ideological disagreement.

•This new dialogue would blur the lines between "in" and "out" from the vantage point of the church. This boundary has always been the province of God yet we have appointed ourselves as exacting stewards of this decision. In reality, the lines are deeply blurred. This does not mean that one cannot have a sense of inclusion in God's community nor allow for the most obvious exclusions. But so much of our efforts in clear definition are idolatrous demands for definition and control.

•A new dialogue would affirm that neither God's voice nor God's love is not confined to that which we call "church."

•A new dialogue would not water down the essential path of following Christ or the essential realities of Jesus' way. On the contrary, this dialogue would free us up to express this path rather than to defend it against intruders.

•A new dialogue would be guided by hospitality, humility, the fearful acknowledgement of the limits of our understanding and abilities to make boundaries, activism on the essential needs of humanity, love for all of God's creation, striving to embody the characteristics of Yahweh and the fruits of God's Spirit, trust in God's sovereign ability to manage the story, and a worshipful thankfulness for being included in these plans.

Such a dialogue would merit the grand title of salvation.

"Saved"

I just saw last year's Christian parody, "Saved." Given my fundy/evangelical roots - a couple scenes provoked audible laughter and stoked numerous memories.

My favorite: The "Christian Jewels," the "A group" of sanctimonious, self-righteous girls at the American Eagle Christian School are enlisted by the Headmaster (Pastor Skip - every youth minister or former youth minister on the planet has to grimace with an ounce of confession at the portrayal of this character) to "arm themselves for spiritual battle" and intervene in the life of Mary, a wayward member of their "posse" (Pastor Skip again). It's Halloween, so the Jewels are dressed perfectly for the scene in fluffy, white angel's wings. The intervention includes a roadside abduction of Mary into their van for a quickee exorcism. Mary flees in a rage and reminds the "jewels" that they don't know anything about love. This prompts, Tammy- er, Hilary Faye, the group's leader, to throw her Bible into Mary's back while boldly claiming that she knows all about God's love.

Many of us watch real life encounters that mirror this caricature and ask with no small measure of sadness, "What prompts those of us who seek to follow God to behave so poorly at times?"

Last night at Emmaus Way, we reflected in worship on this very question. We have been reading the biblical story of Jacob. Two weeks ago, we explored the story's great moment of conversion - Jacob wrestles with God and finally accepts the blessing that God has intended for him even before his birth. He accepts the new name, "Israel," becoming the name-bearer of God's people on earth. The blessing is dramatically confirmed when he encounters his wronged brother Esau. Instead of receiving the vengeful death Esau has promised, Jacob receives a kiss from his brother and restoration to his home. If that episode was the moment of conversion and blessing, then last night's episode could be entitled, "After the Conversion."

The "After the Conversion" scene is one part tragedy and one part adult film horror story. For some reason, Jacob's caravan discontinues its journey to Bethel (literally "house of God," the place where Jacob first encountered Yahweh) and stops near a prosperous dwelling of Canaanites. In the melee that follows, Shechem, the most prominent son of the community takes Jacob's daughter, Dinah, and violates her. But he is so smitten with her that seeks to marry her at any bride price (the honorable act for any man who has violated a virgin during this era). Her brothers hatch a heinous plan of revenge. The Shechemites are told that they must be circumcised for the Israelites to consider this offer. Such is the influence of Shechem (and the greed of this people in light of Jacob's wealth) that the entire male community submits to circumcision. While the men are still in pain, Dinah's brothers, Simeon and Levi enter the village and slaughter all the men. In this moment of opportunity, the rest of Jacob's sons jump in and loot the community to their great gain.

This outrageous event finally prompts Jacob to speak. Strangely silent and passive to this point, he remarks about the shame brought upon him by Simeon and Levi. Finally God weighs in. Unconsulted, Yahweh demands that Jacob move on Bethel. A classic scene of repentence and renewal ensues. False gods are surrendered. Vows of worship are made. Memorials are constructed. But what does this season of penitence and worship mean for Jacob's tribe? Are they further blessed? Do they become free from pain and sin? Of course not. Jacob's beloved wife, Rachel, dies in childbirth. In a remarkable example of differing perspectives, she names the son she delivers as "Son of Pain." Jacob overrules with the name, "Son of Promise" (Benjamin"). These differing perspectives and names seems to summarize the essence of the life of those who seek to follow Yahweh, a vascillation between pain and promise.

As if to further accentuate this point, Reuben, Jacob's oldest, decides to sleep with Bilhah, one of his father's wives which draws the curtains on this whole shameful episode that was briefly interrupted by a revival!

There is much to comtemplate in this story. All of us who claim the name of Christ should see ourselves as heirs of Levi, Simeon, and Reuben. There is no room for sanctimonious proclamations in our lives. Or perphaps we should see ourselves as Jacob, passive observers to the vengeful plans of others. Either way, the text calls us to introspection, penitence, humility, and lives that are dependent of God's character and plans as our guide. Of course, this episode trumpets the hope of the whole story. God's grace, love, and redemptive plans are undeterred by the failures and hypocracies of those who seek to follow God.

The reality of failures does not alleviate our calling to embody God's character and grace with our lives. This story should provoke a striving toward this end by revealing the shameful potential that lies in the base of our souls. The story also stirs an acknowledgement that we often live between opposing poles of pain and promise. Embracing the promise involves embracing our potential for shameful deceit and treachery. The magnitude of this realization throws light on the magnitude of God's mercy.

The Mystery of an Unconfined God

I think we spend huge amounts of theological/reflective energy on the illogical task of confining God. If God is truly God — living to the full realization of that job description including the omnipotent and self-actualized parts — then being confined does not seem to be a realistic option. Nonetheless, we (I'm certainly included myself in this category) work hard bind the omnipotent and define the self-defined. Of course, if we ever succeed at this task, then we have undermined the whole purpose and premise of having a God in the first place.

Our worship and dialogue at Emmaus Way on Sunday meandered down the path of how God fails to fulfill our hopes, expectations, and categories. We are reading the narrative of Jacob in Genesis that seems to raise this issue endlessly. What is it with God's choice to bless Jacob over Esau as the father of God's covenant people? The prediction that the younger would rule over the older twin seems straightforward enough. Sometimes it works out that way. But when God's intent seems to be enacted by the treachery and lies of a dysfunctional family, I stir with discomfort. There are at least a score of ways that I want God to intervene in this story — but here come my expectations again! I'm once again on the precipice of confining God to a job description (one of my choosing, of course).

With both my years of seminary training and long years of church association, I'm well trained to handle these divine inconsistencies. Isn't the answer and resolution to God's odd choices and job failures alway that which is NOT recorded in the text? If we just had the whole story, it would all make sense. No such luck here. Paul, in the New Testament, cuts off our escape route with some very intentional theology written about this exact situation (no slippery metaphors to apply). In Romans 9, Paul explains God's preference for Jacob as merely that — a preference and a choice. I can hear the footsteps of the Reformed theology of my formal education gaining on me!

Paul's quotes God's heart on this choice of the younger twin — a young man who goes on to fill a rap sheet with deceits and manipulations — “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” Paul then adds his own unambiguous clincher, "It does not, therefore, depend on man’s desire or effort, but on God’s mercy." There seems to be no unrecorded narrative of character failure for Esau or redeeming qualities in Jacob that make the odd choice appropriated by horrific deceit more palatable. God simply doesn't do it the way I would.

This seems to summarize my long experience as a follower of Jesus and worshipper of Yahweh. God just doesn't follow my blueprint. God seems to follow a personal script. Imagine that! — an omnipotent being following a personal path! This personal script is nonethless frustrating and often seemingly painful for me. God hasn't healed all the people I pray for. Opportunities have slipped through my fingers. Some relationships remain in tatters. Some events are unjustifyably painful. Come on God! And this is just the selfish stuff. Occasionally even I lift my gaze from my stuff and my needs to the injustices of our world. Where are you God?

Don't hold your breath for simple ladder out of this deep hole. As a "professional Christian," I have more than a few responses to the theological dilemmas of an unresponsive God and a God that doesn't fulfill my expectations. But let's not go there. These answers are rarely satisfying (if ever) when I face frustration or hardship. These "answers" still nag me in the theoretical as well.

Oh, it is not that we can't make some statements about God's intentions and plans. I'm ecstatic that God doesn't work on a model of absolute justice — I don't think that I would fare well in such a system. Hence, we come to a preppositon that I hold dearly about God. I realize that this assumption is not universally shared. But I believe in a good and merciful God even the circumstances challenge the assumption. The punch line to Paul's comment quoted earlier is that key factor in God's choices and interventions is not human effort. The fulcrum is God's mercy. My intellect, heart, and confusion rests on the conviction of a merciful God.

What that means in every circumstance — I do not know or I do not see clearly. But, as we discussed on Sunday evening, the mysteries of an unconfined God can drive us to be people of despair — or — worshippers. The mystery of realities beyond our intellect and the existence of circumstances that defy our sensibilities can drive us to worship and cling to a merciful God. Mystery, pain, and yearning are all potential catalysts to worship. The spiritual path before us is rarely a path of understanding and certainly. More often, it is a trail of nuance, discomfort, and relentless trust. There is surely adventure, hope, and joy on such trails. There are few vistas where the whole landscape is visible and knowable.

EmmausWay.net

The Emmaus Way community website is up at EmmausWay.net! Many thanks to Ben Thole and Steven Nicholson for their hard work and creative efforts on this site.

The Relational Fabric of Faith

In our community gathering last night at Emmaus Way, we began a summer reading and discussion of the Biblical story of Jacob (roughly Gen 25-36).

Over the years, I have become more and more sensitive to the reality that I don't have "a personal relationship with God" in the sense that I would have connection to God that is mine or exclusive from a vast network of relational experiences and realities that make up my life. My conceptions of God, pursuits of the divine, and my most humble or desperate prayers have been shaped by 43 years of life experiences. And, of course, my short years on earth are but a small part of long relational, familial legacies that stretch over decades and through the centuries.

For example, when I read the story of Jacob, my hearing of the story is shaped by a fear of abandoment which is the honest legacy of a child who lost a parent early in life (How did Jacob feel when he was forced to flee from his home and homeland?). And as I read this story, I also realize that I am reading the narrative of my own spiritual family. Those of us who seek to follow the way of Jesus realize that we (like others) trace our own familial narrative to the people God formed from Abraham's lineage. I see the same patterns of deceit, competition, jealousy, and lack of graciousness in my recent family narrative as I see in the strange journeys of Jacob and his family. And, of course, I also see patterns of redemption and hope in both of my families.

Our hope this summer is to read this narrative from the lens of our own familial experiences and also have that reading deeply enhanced by listening carefully to the stories of others.

Last night, Mimi led us through a meaningful exercise of familial mapping. The idea came from the Cornucopia House, a local non-profit that supports cancer patients and their caregivers. Mimi enjoyed several visits to this community as she cared for her mom this winter and spring. The exercise calls for the creation of a collage of images, words, and art that describe your family-of-origin and current experiences in relationship with others. The collage that she made has been prominently displayed on the great suburban art gallery, also known as the refrigerator, for some time. The meaningfulness of these symbols has only increased with time. I can only conclude that there is something sacred in expressing one's story — this is indeed the canvas that God works on.

So last night, we discussed and inquired our way through the bizarre realities of Jacob's family background —
• A grandfather (Abraham) who allowed his wife, deceitfully identified as his sister, to be taken into the Pharoah's harem rather than run the personal risk of living in a foreign land with a beautiful wife.
• A repetition of this same pretense by his son (Isaac, Jacob's father) and a growing legacy of deceit throughout the whole family
• Bitter competitions among family members for wells, grazing rights, birthrights, and honor with the family.
• The bitter juxtapostiion of great promises of family expansion and the common experiences of infertility among the key women in the story
• The difficult to read theme of inappropriate (?) favoritism in the family that in some way corresponds to some form of redemptive favoritism expressed by God. How does one understand this?

As we explored our own families, no one could claim a dysfunction that far exceeded the strange narrative of Jacob's family.

We look forward to a continued exploration of this story. Next week we'll move into a scene of unparalled deceit as Jacob and his mother conspire together to steal the prophetic blessing his father intends for his older twin, Esau (Genesis 27).

The relational nature of faith of seems very obvious in this story and subsequent dialogue. Our journeys with and from God are so significantly marked by the presence of others.

Strawberries...

My fingers are still a bit stained with the juice from huge, ripe strawberries...

About 30 adults and children from the Emmaus Way community and various friends spent the morning in Dunn, NC gleaning the last of the strawberries from a field about to be plowed under for the next planting. We picked about 500 lbs., the load of two pick-up trucks. The recipients of our efforts will be a home of senior citizens on marginal, fixed incomes in Louisburg and a couple of relief agencies in Durham.

It was a pleasure and a privilege to live out the Leviticus directive of gleaning with such a diverse community - the many kids present with us truly embraced this idea and many were far more skilled (or nimble I should say) in picking berries.

Of course we picked and bought many strawberries home, all promises of future margarita's, Jenny :), strawberry homemade ice cream (tomorrow at Emmaus Way's picnic on the deck at 9th St thanks to Mimi!!), pies and various desserts — a convicting and compelling juxtapostion of plenty (our plenty and the literally thousands and thousands of pounds of berries that rot on the vine) and the hunger of many around us.

A great morning...

Emmaus Way — Mission

I'm continuing to post about some of the values of Emmaus Way. Many are following the evolution of this community in this space (BTW — our website will be up in 2 weeks!). Apologies to those of you who find these thoughts on mission as rudimentary. Only my creation of consolidation of this material into the specific categories is even remotely original. For those of you who are just getting acquainted with the concept of missional community (I had a great conversation with a new friend and local pastor who is courageously redefining the ministry of his very traditional/denominational church along these lines on Tuesday!) — I would recommend two books as thoughtful entries points —

The Church Between Gospel and Culture edited by George Hunsberger
The Continuing Conversion of the Church by Darrel Guder

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“Mission” at Emmaus Way

Mission defines the soul of Emmaus Way. It guides our community formation and is the heart of our worship.

George Hunsberger and the GOCN network in last decade coined the phrase “missional church.” This new use of a familiar term stands as a correction and a challenge to current trends in many churches and Christian communities. In recent decades, the individualism and consumerism of our culture has become embedded in church life. Many churches have found themselves in the business of providing religious services and programs to Christian consumers. In this environment, churches have found themselves in a competitive posture with other faith communities, seeking to grow and win a greater “market share by providing programs that meet the needs and demands of potential attendees.

In contrast, the missional church seeks to encourage and empower its community to participate in God’s agenda. Attention is spent in discerning God’s agenda and mobilizing resources to participate in this agenda. Missional churches and communities seek to collaborate rather than to compete with a diversity of other fellowships. We are inspired by this vision of church.

When we speak specifically of mission, several passions come to mind:
• Breaking out of the rut or reduction of mission solely as evangelism in international settings accomplished by highly trained Christian “heroes” — the mission we hope to describe and embody is mission as a way of life for all who seek to follow the path of Christ. All of our life contexts are places of mission. Local initiatives will be valued as much as international ministries.
• Valuing God’s present kingdom as much at God’s eternal kingdom — Jesus spoke regularly of an immediate kingdom as well as a future kingdom. We will seek to follow Jesus’ teachings and to embody the spirit of his kingdom in our present time and context as well as to eagerly await the completion of God’s gracious redemption of creation.
• Having a cultural frame of reference that extends beyond that of affluent, western culture — so much of the church’s mission has been done from a western cultural perspective. We deeply desire to listen to and learn from other cultures and communities as we serve. To do this, we will try to form a diversity of ministry partnerships that challenge and stretch us. We will also seek to practice a “ministry of presence,” coming near those in different contexts as learners rather than problem-solvers. This will be particularly true for the poor, wounded, and dying who have so much to teach us about the reality of God’s vision and values.

Our desire is that missional way of life will shape our acts of community formation. In forming community, several missional values will stand at the forefront:
• Missional Diversity: Forming a diverse community that challenges us beyond our experiences and understandings of God.
• Missional Dependence: Living interconnected lives confronts the lonely individualism and self-reliance of our culture.
• Missional Proximity — Having a strong sense of “place” and living intentionally with the needs and issues of our community in mind.