Missional Living

I got up early to pack for our annual staff retreat this week. Before heading out the door, I had a few (quiet) minutes to read and ‘be still’ (thank you, jimmie). I had pretty much decided to discontinue regular QM posts, but ran across this from Piper’s Life as A Vapor :

"When a person speaks of writes or sings or paints about breathtaking truth in a boring way, it is probably a sin."

And, imo, perhaps one of the greatest sins of our age. When students (and adults!) complain that ‘church is boring’, we act like it’s their duty (penance?) to  suck it up and endure it.

We settle for lukewarm worship music.

We become accustomed to milquetoast  ‘Christian Living’ books.

We consume a diet of art that only expresses God through some frosty lens of a deer drinking from a mountain stream next to a ricktey cabin in the woods.

[yawn.]

Where are the expressions of ‘breathtaking truth’ that leave us breathless? That leave us in silence, grasping for words to express how our hearts have been consumed? Where is the lyricless music that so enraptures us that it brings tears to our eyes without a single voice?

We need the beautiful. And the spectacular.

I’m a closet word freak.

There, I’ve said it. Words have always fascinated me. Meanings. Nuances. Detailed, cross-hair descriptiveness like a sniper’s scope.

Did you ever realize that Britney Spears is an anagram for Presbyterian? Or that Pepsi Cola is an anagram for Episcopal?

Lately, I’ve been hung up on the question ‘Do geese see God?’, which is the same sentence when spelled backwards. (Much like the fact that ’stressed’ is ‘desserts’ spelled backwards…)

So, because I’m such a word freak, it’s become of utmost importance that we use the right words in our worship of God. Describing his character. His majesty. His glory.

As i was out jogging this morning, I got caught in a rain shower. (love it!). Funny thing is that I had just been reading and meditating on Psalm 29: "The God of glory thunders…his voice thunders over the mighty sea. His voice is lightning…People gather in the Temple and shout ‘glory’!".

It goes on to say that he bends and twists the oak and cedar trees…how cool is it that God’s glory is much like a hurricane that sweeps through the land in such a manner that everything in it’s path must bend to his power???

What metaphors have you found in Scripture that have special meaning to you? What pictures of God’s glory, mercy, protection, restoration, etc., have ministered to you?

If you follow me on Twitter, you know that we were on vacation last week. Not a stay-cation like we sometimes do, either. We bolted out of town ASAP with hotel confirmations in all kinds of touristy tickets in hand with the full intent of heading to Galveston for a few days and then letting the SpiritWind lead us after that. I was excited about just ‘going where the wind blows’ for a week. The last time I did that, I wound up in New Orleans watching B.B. King perform in at a local dive. Yes, it was amazing.

The winds definitely blew last week. His name was Edouard. He hit land not far from where we were headed, so we drifted in another direction. San Antonio for a few days. Shamu. The Riverwalk. The Rainforest Cafe. And by the time ol’ Eddie fizzled out, we took a couple of days to hit Galveston, as well spend some short-but-fabulous time with family in Baytown.

When we got back in town over the weekend, I brought home a nasty little virus that wiped out half of the family. Nice.

But I wouldn’t trade the week for anything in the world.

I’ve been reminded of several things that are priceless. My boys laughing in the water parkl. My youngest one getting owned by ‘a gnarly wave’ on his boogieboard. Holding my wife’s hand over a fabulous hot dog dinner at my niece’s birthday party. The fierce loyalty of family.

Oh, and how easy it is to plead to God in prayer when you’re trapped by a nasty intestinal virus.

It’s good to be back home, ready to get back in the blog routine and discuss the redemption and restoration going on around us.

It’s good to be in One Peace.
 

I consider myself a pretty self-aware kind of guy. Maybe too much so. (Self-awareness is a debilitating curse…) So I’m pretty sure that if I were trapped in Hell, it would consists of a couple of scenarios.

The first circle of (my) Hell would be being locked in a 24-hour Wal-Mart on Senior Citizen day. All the shopping carts gone. Everything moving at a snail’s pace. Except in the restrooms. Nothing moving at all in there.

The second circle would be me accepting an invitation to lead worship at a camp. Upon arrival, I’d find out that the camp was filled with 10,000 pre-teen girls, between the ages of 8 and 11. And they all sing on that same squeal-pitch you get when you step on a cat’s tail. Don’t get me wrong: little girls are precious, and worship is a matter of the heart. I’m just pretty sure my heart couldn’t take 10,000 howls while singing "Here is Our King".

The third and final circle would be an eternity of meetings, sticky notes, spreadsheets and plans… Like great Redwood trees, with roots  that grow deep and become immovable and well-protected. And I’d never get to put feet to the ideas. Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains.

So, to take the edge off, watch this and thank God for His grace.

I have to ask: how much of our ministry efforts are overplanned? Over-strategized? If you know me at all, you know I’m much more productive with plans and sticky notes. But Jesus tells us to be led by the Spirit, literally, the ‘wind’ of God… which we don’t know where it comes from or where it goes. But we read the signs as the great Redwoods of our planning meetings bow to it’s gentle and mighty power.

Remember that there is One plan that trumps all others. That the wind (and waves…) obey Him. Subsequently, so do the trees and everything else.

On a day full of meetings staring me in the face, I’d much rather be SpiritWind-surfing than tree-hugging.

 Today is day two of the National Worship Leader Conference here in Austin.

Wow.

Not only have I run into old friends, former students, and new buddies, but I’ve been trying to drink from the fire hydrant that is the nature of conferences like these. Lincoln Brewster says I am supposed to lead with excellence. Len Sweet says I am on a campaign against cliche. Because of my nature, and because I live in a Google World (not a Gutenberg world, as my older counterparts do), my head today is filled with metaphors of what it means to be missional, relational, and incarnational.

In a modern,Gutenberg world, things were propositional. sequential. orderly. dissectable. Truth was proclaimed propositionally.  The problem, of course, is that the modern, Gutenberg world has gone the way of the T.Rex, and those from that world now find themselves immigrants in a new, Google world.The currency of today is not  proposition or words. It’s not even really information. It’s metaphor. Metaphor and image create what words can not.  And metaphor is metamorphosis. it is change. As one who proclaims the Good News, you and I are in the metaphor business.

Jesus, too, was in the metaphor business. Remember ‘the Kingdom of God is like…’? And again, "the kingdom of God is like…". And again. and again.

So what are the important metaphors of our time? Luke 12:54-56 admonishes us to ‘interpret the times’… so what are the important metaphors of our time? What images are God using to reveal Himself to us in this season?

It’s an important question. Why?

Because as worshippers it is essential. Worship is not a performance art. It is a participation art. It is the art of connecting (and helping others connect) to a living God through metaphor using lyric and sound and story. not argument and proposition.

What metaphors move you? What images capture your heart and catapult it towards Abba? What stories resonate with the melody of redemption? In a day where I have no longer any desire to debate with the Kirk Camerons and Ergun Caners of the world, I’d love to spend time telling the stories and images of God’s redemption and grace.

Moses. The burning bush. His glowing face. His anger that smashed the tablets of stone.

Abraham and Issac. The ram caught in the brush that became the sacrifice on the altar. The sacrificial lamb called Jesus that willingly lay on an altar of wood.

Saul-turned-Paul who fell in love with the idea that a missionary-god came to die, but then rose…and will come back again soon.

Tom. Who never imagined he’d experience such a vast amount of undeserving grace. Who is daily reminded of his own weakness. And sees the big muscles of his Daddy rise up like a kinder, gentler Incredible Hulk who carries and protetcs and shelters by his strength.

And on the images go.

What’s yours?

"If you have any questions, call my cell phone at 965-XXXX"

-me, on an Austin-area radio show last Saturday morning. Geesh.

Yeah.

What was I thinking?

My CELL number?

I’ll let you know how that works out…

Live and learn, huh?

Apologies for the lack of blogging lately. As usual, the whirlwind of summer is in full swing. Family. Student ministry. Worship. Doing life with those who are in the process of becoming shepherds. And learning that I don’t know it all.

OK. That last one is common knowledge.

Last Saturday I was privileged to be a guest on a central Texas radio show here in Austin. We spent most of the time talking about leadership principles and how they apply to student ministry and to parenting. A great discussion that may make for some good blog fodder in the near future. One of the best things was that it was co-hosted by a former student and fabulous young lady named Christina. As she talked about how I was her "Paul" for many years, I quickly realized how much I’ve learned from her as well. It’s a very humbling thing for someone you’ve watched grow to talk about how you’ve shaped their life. Your mind begins to race to the areas you could’ve done better with, modeled more grace or compassion, or demonstrated Christ more. At any rate, we had a ball and it was an honor for me to participate.

Also over the weekend, I was able to pick up a much-needed guitar. Thank you, Jesus. Without going into too much detail, through a long string of events and the grace of God (and some of his people), I got a great deal on a guitar well above what I thought I’d ever have. It is not flippant to say "it belongs to the Lord". Period. I just get to use it for now. If you’re at all familiar with a Taylor 814ce, you know…I could bore you with all the details about the sitka spruce, the indian rosewood, pearl 800 series inalys, and how it sings with clear, full bass tones, yet has crisp, clear highs and….oh….sorry.

Today, I head out to do all the pregame setup for our middle school camp. By the time this posts, our setup team will have spent four hours on the ground, getting ready for the arrival of a herd of 6th, 7th, and 8th graders, jacked up on Monsters and expectation! I LOVE middle school camp….

Unfortunately, just about the time they arrive, I’ll have to leave and drive a couple of hours back to Austin for the National Worship Leader Conference. As a first-timer, I’m excited to catch up with some songwriters and thinkers I deeply admire. As of now, I’ve made arrangements to meet with a few of them in an effort to learn and share insights on ministry. These are some of my Yodas.

I’ll be blogging as much as possible during the week to keep you up to date. To get up-to-the-minute details and insights, be sure and add/follow me on Twitter!

There are only two people who can tell you the truth about yourself–an enemy who has lost his temper and a friend who loves you dearly.

-philosopher Antisthenes the Cynic

I was finishing up Leonard Sweet’s 11 last night and noticed my wife watching back-to-back episodes of The Two Coreys, featuring Corey Haim and Corey Feldman, when my mind wandered back to this quote.

As the two Coreys are at loggerheads on their personal and professional relationship, duking it out, my heart cries out. Why? Because I have and need relationships like that in my life. I need a Feldman to not give up on me. I need a Haim for me to not give up on. Those who journey with me. Friends. And thorns, too.

“The problem isn’t that you’re gay, it’s that you’re a jerk.”

I love Gall’s version of tough love and renegade honesty. According to him, the biggest problem regarding the continuation of sin in the world is the way we tiptoe around it and let ourselves be defined by our favorite-flavored spiritual maladies. We hide behind our shortcomings, failures, and failures just as readily as we hide behind any other external thing we attach to our crab shells as camouflage from the squids–sometimes we can’t tell the difference between benevolent eyes and the eyes of a predator. All we know is that we want to be invisible.

Sitting in his apartment, he tells his homosexual roommate, “I don’t think your struggle with homosexuality is the real problem.”

He then goes on to talk about the metaphor of sin as a constantly narrowing well that goes ever deeper. And as we fall, we are carrying these boards with us, things we call sin, and we only fall deep enough until the boards jam against the sides of the well, giving us a place to stand. The boards make the scaffolding of the sin we’re willing to admit. We stand on a board and say, “This is my sin. There’s nothing darker in me than this.” And we swear that the board is not a board, but the bottom of the well.

The problem is that, whatever ‘board’ we stand on, when we remove that particular board, we continue to fall deeper into the well. The problem is that we are jerks because we think our gayness is the furthest extent of our problem. Or our addictions. Or our lust. Greed. Ego. Piety. It’s easy enough to point to the boards of other ‘sinners’ to define and subsequently mount campaigns against those boards. Boycotts. Marches and rallies. Entire ‘ministries’ have been build on this. It’s one of the great sins of Evangelicalism.

However much our sin may attempt to define us, it never accurately does so. Remove any board, and we all continue to fall to the bottom. And perhaps the bottom is the fact that our heart is only big enough for one god. One idol. We cannot worship God and money. Or God and sex. Or God and fame. Or God and anything. My board may be a different size and shape than yours, but it’s still only a ‘prop’ towards my real sin: the failure to recognize that the only absolutely satisfying and trustworthy One in all creation is Jesus That only Jesus satisfies my deepest thirst—all else is saltwater. Any sin in my life is a reflection of my unbelief.

The problem is not that you’re gay. Or addicted. Or self-righteous. Or whatever. Those things I can ‘fix’ on my own.

The problem is that only grace can keep me from being a jerk.
 

When I had dinner with Pete Gall (and Grissom) last week, it was incredibly refreshing. Much like the double soy iced latte I’m nursing while writing this. Gall is a very unimposing guy, though I get the sense that he’s pretty wicked-smart. Our conversation bounced along from his questions about my seminary experience (I tried it. Twice. But it didn’t take…) to my interrogating him how he came into the same circle of trust I share with Grissom (a long story that includes common struggles, failures, and ultimately…grace.) Early into the bounty of Rudy’s brisket, I asked, ‘So…what’s your story?’

 “Well, it started with wanting to be known as ‘a tremendous man of God’.” He smirked in a Tyler Durden sort of way.

“How’s that workin’ out for you?” I asked.

He smiled and swigged down the last of his Corona. He then began to tell me his story. Previous big shot advertising exec. Fortune 50 companies hailing him as the Golden Child. His bravado struggling with being the ‘fat guy’ to the other guys, the ‘good friend’ to any romantic interest, and the Imposter to a God who calls us to authenticity. And church seemed to make it worse, not better.

The collector crab (or decorator crab) attaches to it’s shell bits and pieces of what it finds on the sea floor. The idea is to protect itself by becoming invisible to its natural enemy, the squid. It scurries along unnoticed, hidden by the debris it’s become attached to.

I do the same thing. My guess is that you do, too. And sometimes the camouflage we choose makes us easier to spot. Problem is that we can’t ever really be sure about the stuff we grab and attach to our shells; all we can do is grab what looks good to us and hope for the best.

In My Beautiful Idol, Gall begins his story with advertising spectacles: in a society that tries to sell people, all of whom are bearers of the likeness of God, baubles to attach to their personal shells. Labels. Products. Services. Impressions. Approaches. Tones. Movements. Causes. Whatever we collect to build our own ‘personal brand’. 

It’s how we hide from the squids that show up in the form of shame. Guilt. Failure. Evil. Or a host of other things we work furiously to avoid. From fig leaves to 401(k)s, we’re all about covering our nakedness. And as long as we don’t get eaten, it’s a good day.

But under it all, we’re looking for a way out of the camouflage, because in the end, it not only hides us, but traps us as well.

But here’s my own vulnerability: I’d love to learn how to live in a way that doesn’t require camouflage. I think it’s something we all long for. To be naked and vulnerable, yet still adequate and loved. At the heart of the Ragamuffin, I’m learning to let go of the camouflague. Sometimes I can even pull it off.

Sometimes.