I’ve written before about the Celtic concept of “thin spaces”; an idea that particular geographic locations contain more spiritual possibility than others. Ancient Celts thought manifest (everyday) reality was but a thin veil separated from divine reality. And sometimes you’d encounter someplace where that veil was routinely lifted. A dedicated worship site. A hidden glen or valley. The gravesite of a renowned leader or saint. These were ‘thin spaces,’ where gods regularly abided.
As well, the Celts suspected particular times were thinner than others. In the twilight of early evening or the haze of ending dreams, the spirit world invited humanity to commune, to seek guidance, strength or hope in the brief thinning of holy moments. Ancient Jews intuited a related respect for sacred time; commandment four in God’s Top Ten says, “Honor the Sabbath, and keep it holy,” suggesting a dedicated day of rest and worship was thin enough for God to enter in power.
But in normal life, we rarely encounter thin spaces with regularity. That’s partly our fault- our indifference to God’s guidance, our frantic pursuit of comfort, gain or security, our need for personal control and so latent distrust of God’s supervision. Another factor, however, is the elusiveness of thinness itself. I’ve been to Stonehenge in Southern England, and can easily understand how ancient peoples found that massive monument overwhelmingly sacred and set apart. But now, surrounded by highways and gift shops and teems of visitors snapping pictures, the space feels to have thickened. And in the workaday rush of bills and home improvements, even regular church attendance can fall short of the Sabbath ideal, another in a list of to-dos.
Occasionally, though, thinness forces itself upon individuals and communities. The Church Calendar of holidays, at its best, allows Christians annually to redouble our efforts to experience holy thinness. And in the long-term arc of a community’s life, another forced thinness will- or can- present itself every several years: the transition from one leader to the next.
One of the Boards on which I’m privileged to represent Plymouth Creek and MN Disciples has entered a thin space. Gary Reierson, President and CEO of the Greater Minneapolis Council of Churches for the past 22 years, has announced his retirement, effective next July. Yes, that’s a long transition. But considering his length of service and wonderfully effective leadership, it makes sense to transition deliberately. I’ve been asked to serve on the selection committee for our new CEO, along with other Board members with much greater experience in such matters. Thankfully! And in the short time we’ve been working together, I’ve gained appreciation for the opportunity before us. Critically, we’re not trying to replace Gary with Gary 2.0. Rather, we hope to reflect deeply and prayerfully on what the future holds for GMCC, and identify the leadership needs that future will demand. Will we continue to grow, or get better at a few core functions? Are there unmet community needs we’re uniquely positioned to assist with?
It seems to me that thin spaces, being so fragile, can be easily overlooked. If you’re not prepared, they rush on by. Transitions- of leadership for organizations, but also in our personal lives with new births, moves, job changes- carry that same fragility and potential. And oftentimes, what leads us to miss the chance for experiencing God’s thin space guidance is simply anxiety that we’re in transition at all. We liked where we were. Or, at least, understood it. So when something new presents itself, rather than stare boldly into that uncertain future, seeking first God’s Kingdom, we get hung up on the fact of being in transition. Alas, by the time we’re ready to move on, time has thickened.
I’ll appreciate your prayers for GMCC’s search committee. Being the largest Council of Churches in America, it’s critical we get this decision as right as possible. But also in the other transitions we all face, some large, some simple, may we have courage to encounter God in God’s fullness. Being rare moments, they might feel overwhelming, even frightening. God, however, in every situation retains a name that provides hope: Love. Which is as thick as can be!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Openings…
One thing I love about my job is the chance to represent you in the community. I believe Plymouth Creek has a wonderful, unique take on living faithfully, and sharing that with our neighbors is for me a privilege and source of pride. I hope you feel the same, often seizing your opportunities to shine as a beacon of openness and service wherever you may be. You do, right?
Anyway, one place I do so is on the Board of our friend and local social-services provider, Interfaith Outreach and Community Partners. Plymouth Creek has long supported IOCP and the good work they do of feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, loving the downtrodden and standing up for outcasts in the northwestern suburbs. Faith in action is real faith, I believe Jesus would suggest, and so when Interfaith helps struggling single moms stay in their homes, provides employment assistance to fathers without work, gives scholarships so children from low-income families can attend high quality childcare (which some claim is the #1 most effective way to sustainably combat poverty…), well, those are everyday examples of faith coming alive. And it’s something our church contributes to consistently, more generously in fact than an outside observer might expect. So on the Board I try to accurately represent your commitment to living, compassionate, generous faith. God knows, there are too many these days who need Christians of that ilk to step up and make a greater difference.
I mention that this month for two reasons. #1- To remind us again to let our faith lives be about more than belief or making ourselves feel good, but also about impacting our neighborhoods with goodness. A message we should keep before our eyes always. But more timely, and #2, I want to celebrate with you something shared at the last Board meeting; the culmination of years of hard work, courage and visionary leadership on the part of IOCP’s Board, staff and its many supporters and donors. Perhaps you’ve heard, but if not, you ought to know that this month, August 2011, IOCP will be moving. Or rather, expanding into a grand new facility on the corner of Hwy 101 and County Road 6 in Plymouth!
Long time residents tell me that the building IOCP has purchased and renovated (all thanks to the generosity of community residents, which included some of you…) was once a local grocery store. Now, it will house IOCP’s administrative offices, caseworkers, volunteers and social services (transportation assistance, housing aid, childcare scholarship program, etc.), along with an expanded food shelf more like that at their sister social service agency PRSIM, and a Resale/thrift shop open to clients and all the community (clients getting better deals). Also, within the building, some “community partners” will have offices, including the Wayzata Public Schools’ Community Ed (great if, say, an IOCP client needs GED help) and a satellite for Hennepin County Government Services. There will be other non-profits setting up shop, a community room for educational programming of interest to our cities’ residents and even a meditation room for spiritual renewal. I’m probably missing some stuff, but you get the gist. Within a few short weeks, IOCP will experience much increased capacity for effecting positive change, all with the goal of changing the odds for the most vulnerable amongst us.
If you want to celebrate this achievement with IOCP, here are dates to keep in mind- August13, staff move in, begin unpacking and organizing; August 18- IOCP will host a ‘Grand Opening’ for clients and their families; August 22- the building officially “Opens for business” (alas, to get everything ready, they’ll halt normal operations from Aug 15-19, which IOCP is prepping clients for); and finally, on September 8, from 4:30-6:30 PM, IOCP will host a ‘Grand Opening’ for the entire community to come and see this monumental success we’ve helped make happen. I’ll be there. I hope you will be too. But if not, please join me in prayer that day, and on all those dates, lifting thanks and praise to God who inspires us not only to believe in love, but to put love in action.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Anyway, one place I do so is on the Board of our friend and local social-services provider, Interfaith Outreach and Community Partners. Plymouth Creek has long supported IOCP and the good work they do of feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, loving the downtrodden and standing up for outcasts in the northwestern suburbs. Faith in action is real faith, I believe Jesus would suggest, and so when Interfaith helps struggling single moms stay in their homes, provides employment assistance to fathers without work, gives scholarships so children from low-income families can attend high quality childcare (which some claim is the #1 most effective way to sustainably combat poverty…), well, those are everyday examples of faith coming alive. And it’s something our church contributes to consistently, more generously in fact than an outside observer might expect. So on the Board I try to accurately represent your commitment to living, compassionate, generous faith. God knows, there are too many these days who need Christians of that ilk to step up and make a greater difference.
I mention that this month for two reasons. #1- To remind us again to let our faith lives be about more than belief or making ourselves feel good, but also about impacting our neighborhoods with goodness. A message we should keep before our eyes always. But more timely, and #2, I want to celebrate with you something shared at the last Board meeting; the culmination of years of hard work, courage and visionary leadership on the part of IOCP’s Board, staff and its many supporters and donors. Perhaps you’ve heard, but if not, you ought to know that this month, August 2011, IOCP will be moving. Or rather, expanding into a grand new facility on the corner of Hwy 101 and County Road 6 in Plymouth!
Long time residents tell me that the building IOCP has purchased and renovated (all thanks to the generosity of community residents, which included some of you…) was once a local grocery store. Now, it will house IOCP’s administrative offices, caseworkers, volunteers and social services (transportation assistance, housing aid, childcare scholarship program, etc.), along with an expanded food shelf more like that at their sister social service agency PRSIM, and a Resale/thrift shop open to clients and all the community (clients getting better deals). Also, within the building, some “community partners” will have offices, including the Wayzata Public Schools’ Community Ed (great if, say, an IOCP client needs GED help) and a satellite for Hennepin County Government Services. There will be other non-profits setting up shop, a community room for educational programming of interest to our cities’ residents and even a meditation room for spiritual renewal. I’m probably missing some stuff, but you get the gist. Within a few short weeks, IOCP will experience much increased capacity for effecting positive change, all with the goal of changing the odds for the most vulnerable amongst us.
If you want to celebrate this achievement with IOCP, here are dates to keep in mind- August13, staff move in, begin unpacking and organizing; August 18- IOCP will host a ‘Grand Opening’ for clients and their families; August 22- the building officially “Opens for business” (alas, to get everything ready, they’ll halt normal operations from Aug 15-19, which IOCP is prepping clients for); and finally, on September 8, from 4:30-6:30 PM, IOCP will host a ‘Grand Opening’ for the entire community to come and see this monumental success we’ve helped make happen. I’ll be there. I hope you will be too. But if not, please join me in prayer that day, and on all those dates, lifting thanks and praise to God who inspires us not only to believe in love, but to put love in action.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Rise to thee…
Verse one of Hymn #4 in our songbook includes this lyric- “Early in the morning my song shall rise to thee.” It’s a statement of praise, a declaration that not only does God deserve our adoration, but even that such language ought cross our lips upon waking each day. When’s the last morning you sloughed off the covers, stretched out your arms and began belting praise to God?!
The role of music in the life of faith has played through my mind recently, anticipating last Sunday’s Song Sing, preparing for August’s Song Sermon Series, pondering ways our church can better shine as a beacon of openness through the music we employ in worship. And I’m struck anew by the vital place of melodies and lyrics in worshipper’s souls. Why does it seem entirely appropriate that, in a moment of exuberant gratitude for God’s grace, we’d want to do more than pray, but go further and sing? Not everyone, surely, feels that impulse. But throughout history, many Christians have associated the substance of faith with favorite songs as much as with beliefs. The carol “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” derives from words and tunes created as early as the fourth century, remembered and updated across vast expanses of space and time. Hospice Chaplains share a common experience, that when caring for a person nearing death, having sadly lost the capacity to remember her life story and family and even identity, the patient, nevertheless, will sing along if the chaplain intones, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…” And it lifts her soul.
I’m no expert on the science of the brain, but I have learned that the way we make memories is richer than, say, assuming the brain’s an empty tablet upon which we write information for safe storage. Rather, it’s this dense weave of connections passing signals back and forth, running our bodies and retaining what we learn. Certain brain locations perform specialized functions- speech, motor skills, vision- though each interacts with the others and the whole seems greater than its parts. But memories, apparently, reside throughout the system, not just one place. Thus, they abide deep, dispersed across many connections so they operate and influence behavior long before bubbling up to the surface of consciousness. And, when attached to creative or emotional experience, like music, the stability and longevity of memories strengthens, opening more pathways to affect us than without. When my grandpa was away in WWII, my then 3-year-old uncle would occasionally see a man in the grocery store who, from afar, looked like his dad. He’d shout with joy, Grandma said, run up for a hug, only to stop short once the man’s face came into focus. The emotional memory of Dad, to Uncle Walt (and to many), had a special hold on his soul, deeper than he consciously knew.
I can’t say entirely what that means. Nevertheless, it reminds me that humans are so much more than “rational animals.” John 1:1 contends, “In the beginning was the Word,” and I suspect that’s true. Although, I’d wager that the Word back then was sung.
Some Christian theologians, being rationally adept folk themselves, have imagined God as this unmoving, unfeeling Judge of all Creation. An objective observer in a subjective world. There’s something to that, perhaps, though it’s hard to square with the Bible’s stories of God feeling compassion for the vulnerable, anger at injustice, joy for reconciliation. I prefer, instead, an image of God as Jazz Musician, a constant creator with a basic plan for how things will go, but willing moment after moment to improvise; to add a little flare, a subtle correction, an exciting run of glorious notes that would make Louis Armstrong nod with respect. That means God not only watches what happens, but delights in what happens, when we work with God to add ‘notes’ of beauty and goodness to the whole composition. It may even explain why singing our faith, claiming our place in the choir along with all God’s creatures, feels so intuitively right. Even if all we do is clap our hands, or paws, or anything we got. Early in the morning, or whenever!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
The role of music in the life of faith has played through my mind recently, anticipating last Sunday’s Song Sing, preparing for August’s Song Sermon Series, pondering ways our church can better shine as a beacon of openness through the music we employ in worship. And I’m struck anew by the vital place of melodies and lyrics in worshipper’s souls. Why does it seem entirely appropriate that, in a moment of exuberant gratitude for God’s grace, we’d want to do more than pray, but go further and sing? Not everyone, surely, feels that impulse. But throughout history, many Christians have associated the substance of faith with favorite songs as much as with beliefs. The carol “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” derives from words and tunes created as early as the fourth century, remembered and updated across vast expanses of space and time. Hospice Chaplains share a common experience, that when caring for a person nearing death, having sadly lost the capacity to remember her life story and family and even identity, the patient, nevertheless, will sing along if the chaplain intones, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…” And it lifts her soul.
I’m no expert on the science of the brain, but I have learned that the way we make memories is richer than, say, assuming the brain’s an empty tablet upon which we write information for safe storage. Rather, it’s this dense weave of connections passing signals back and forth, running our bodies and retaining what we learn. Certain brain locations perform specialized functions- speech, motor skills, vision- though each interacts with the others and the whole seems greater than its parts. But memories, apparently, reside throughout the system, not just one place. Thus, they abide deep, dispersed across many connections so they operate and influence behavior long before bubbling up to the surface of consciousness. And, when attached to creative or emotional experience, like music, the stability and longevity of memories strengthens, opening more pathways to affect us than without. When my grandpa was away in WWII, my then 3-year-old uncle would occasionally see a man in the grocery store who, from afar, looked like his dad. He’d shout with joy, Grandma said, run up for a hug, only to stop short once the man’s face came into focus. The emotional memory of Dad, to Uncle Walt (and to many), had a special hold on his soul, deeper than he consciously knew.
I can’t say entirely what that means. Nevertheless, it reminds me that humans are so much more than “rational animals.” John 1:1 contends, “In the beginning was the Word,” and I suspect that’s true. Although, I’d wager that the Word back then was sung.
Some Christian theologians, being rationally adept folk themselves, have imagined God as this unmoving, unfeeling Judge of all Creation. An objective observer in a subjective world. There’s something to that, perhaps, though it’s hard to square with the Bible’s stories of God feeling compassion for the vulnerable, anger at injustice, joy for reconciliation. I prefer, instead, an image of God as Jazz Musician, a constant creator with a basic plan for how things will go, but willing moment after moment to improvise; to add a little flare, a subtle correction, an exciting run of glorious notes that would make Louis Armstrong nod with respect. That means God not only watches what happens, but delights in what happens, when we work with God to add ‘notes’ of beauty and goodness to the whole composition. It may even explain why singing our faith, claiming our place in the choir along with all God’s creatures, feels so intuitively right. Even if all we do is clap our hands, or paws, or anything we got. Early in the morning, or whenever!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Heating up…
Have you ever pondered the similarities between spirituality and summer weather?
Me neither. The two are not, let’s say, obviously comparable. But since Minnesota’s done its darndest in recent days to imitate a sauna- and done so quite well, unfortunately- I’ve found myself praying for relief, sweating like a cold beverage and subsequently sublimating those frustrations by turning them into fodder for spiritual discovery. Call it a Church-Nerd survival technique.
For instance, I’m sure you’ve heard before, probably said, something like, “This weather, it’s a dry heat.” Or more recently, “It’s not so much the heat as the humidity that’ll get ya.” Those sound like clichés, but they’re no less true for being well worn. The Weather Chanel app on my iPhone displays both the temperature of a given moment, as well as what the temp ‘feels like.’ So yesterday was 96 degrees technically, but with a humidity reading more natural to rain forests than high plains, it ‘felt like’ 118 degrees, according to said phone (which is ridiculous, I might add, especially when our power went out and the A/C stopped working). In other words, yes, the heat was hot, but the humidity did, in fact, get us. Or rather, and here’s what got my mind racing, not all heat is the same.
Fire, flame and heating images flare up throughout scripture, you’ll recall. God is more than once described as “a consuming fire.” The Holy Spirit, on Pentecost, descended on the Disciples like “tongues of fire.” Jesus implores us in Matthew never to light our spiritual candles and hide them under a bushel, but rather, to be “lights to the world.” Aka Christ imagines his church as a bright, burning bonfire of justice, peace and righteousness. A fiery beacon illuminating the darkness, if you will.
Even in contemporary Christian circles, the notion of being ‘on fire for God’ ignites many a spirit and worship service. I suspect the point is that living faithfully is no exercise in lukewarm, wishy-washy, get-along-to-go-along behavior. No, the ‘on fire’ Christian blazes with hope and expectation, convinced as she is that any given Sunday, Saturday or second, the glory of God hidden all around juuussst might burst forth and deliver ‘a peace that surpasses understanding.’ To God’s People, but more importantly, through God’s People, and for the good of the common good. If we’re willing to allow God’s Spirit to (w)hol(l)y light up our lives, that is.
I find that idea spiritually compelling, you might’ve guessed, since it demands greater submission to God’s purpose and giving up control to God’s love. Both ideas I’ve snuck into a sermon or several. But as this summer reminds me, not all heat is the same. One might burn with holy fire, and so warm the world. Or one might simply scorch oneself and others.
I met a preacher once whose eyes glowed with lightning and voice boomed like thunder. He was, I’m sure he’d claim, deeply spiritual and ‘on fire.’ But his words crackled with hate and exploded with judgment, leveling entire crowds of people into “Us v. Them.” As if God’s favorite activity is deciding whom to incinerate. For many Christians- like me- who believe God’s love wildly inclusive, we look at such ‘spirituality’ and recoil with disgust. Maybe we think, “Whoa! If that’s Christian spirituality, I better turn down the heat.” As if the only choice is between that, and going-along-to-get-along.
But maybe, I’ve thought recently (when I wasn’t chugging bottles of ice water), there’s more than one way to be ‘on fire’ for God. Not every flame’s purpose is to destroy, after all. Not all heat is oppressive. Indeed, I’ve known many Christians who’ve devoted themselves entirely to God’s purpose by giving generously to help the poor or spending countless hours visiting the sick. Ever seen a Christian, in Jesus’ name, stand up to a bully, declare, “God expects better,” and felt your spirit warm with admiration? I have. And I’m inspired, ignited even, by such fired-up spirituality. Notice, it’s not lukewarm, nor always even safe. But it’s the kind of heat that stokes the coals of God’s Kingdom; where, Jesus claimed, the weather’s always great.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Me neither. The two are not, let’s say, obviously comparable. But since Minnesota’s done its darndest in recent days to imitate a sauna- and done so quite well, unfortunately- I’ve found myself praying for relief, sweating like a cold beverage and subsequently sublimating those frustrations by turning them into fodder for spiritual discovery. Call it a Church-Nerd survival technique.
For instance, I’m sure you’ve heard before, probably said, something like, “This weather, it’s a dry heat.” Or more recently, “It’s not so much the heat as the humidity that’ll get ya.” Those sound like clichés, but they’re no less true for being well worn. The Weather Chanel app on my iPhone displays both the temperature of a given moment, as well as what the temp ‘feels like.’ So yesterday was 96 degrees technically, but with a humidity reading more natural to rain forests than high plains, it ‘felt like’ 118 degrees, according to said phone (which is ridiculous, I might add, especially when our power went out and the A/C stopped working). In other words, yes, the heat was hot, but the humidity did, in fact, get us. Or rather, and here’s what got my mind racing, not all heat is the same.
Fire, flame and heating images flare up throughout scripture, you’ll recall. God is more than once described as “a consuming fire.” The Holy Spirit, on Pentecost, descended on the Disciples like “tongues of fire.” Jesus implores us in Matthew never to light our spiritual candles and hide them under a bushel, but rather, to be “lights to the world.” Aka Christ imagines his church as a bright, burning bonfire of justice, peace and righteousness. A fiery beacon illuminating the darkness, if you will.
Even in contemporary Christian circles, the notion of being ‘on fire for God’ ignites many a spirit and worship service. I suspect the point is that living faithfully is no exercise in lukewarm, wishy-washy, get-along-to-go-along behavior. No, the ‘on fire’ Christian blazes with hope and expectation, convinced as she is that any given Sunday, Saturday or second, the glory of God hidden all around juuussst might burst forth and deliver ‘a peace that surpasses understanding.’ To God’s People, but more importantly, through God’s People, and for the good of the common good. If we’re willing to allow God’s Spirit to (w)hol(l)y light up our lives, that is.
I find that idea spiritually compelling, you might’ve guessed, since it demands greater submission to God’s purpose and giving up control to God’s love. Both ideas I’ve snuck into a sermon or several. But as this summer reminds me, not all heat is the same. One might burn with holy fire, and so warm the world. Or one might simply scorch oneself and others.
I met a preacher once whose eyes glowed with lightning and voice boomed like thunder. He was, I’m sure he’d claim, deeply spiritual and ‘on fire.’ But his words crackled with hate and exploded with judgment, leveling entire crowds of people into “Us v. Them.” As if God’s favorite activity is deciding whom to incinerate. For many Christians- like me- who believe God’s love wildly inclusive, we look at such ‘spirituality’ and recoil with disgust. Maybe we think, “Whoa! If that’s Christian spirituality, I better turn down the heat.” As if the only choice is between that, and going-along-to-get-along.
But maybe, I’ve thought recently (when I wasn’t chugging bottles of ice water), there’s more than one way to be ‘on fire’ for God. Not every flame’s purpose is to destroy, after all. Not all heat is oppressive. Indeed, I’ve known many Christians who’ve devoted themselves entirely to God’s purpose by giving generously to help the poor or spending countless hours visiting the sick. Ever seen a Christian, in Jesus’ name, stand up to a bully, declare, “God expects better,” and felt your spirit warm with admiration? I have. And I’m inspired, ignited even, by such fired-up spirituality. Notice, it’s not lukewarm, nor always even safe. But it’s the kind of heat that stokes the coals of God’s Kingdom; where, Jesus claimed, the weather’s always great.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Changing pace…
I almost did something really stupid the other day. I didn’t mean to, but once it happened I thought, “Whoa! That could’ve gone horribly.” I was merging onto I-494 from Highway 100, had completed the exit’s cloverleaf loop and sped up to join traffic. Of course, there’s a long entry ramp at that point, about a mile of two separate lanes before you enter the interstate proper. Although, just before that happens, the ramp condenses to one lane.
Which meant my path was about to be blocked by a slow moving, huge truck in the right hand lane. Decision time, right? Speed up to pass the truck, or slow waaaaaaay down and get in line (and by slow, I mean it crawled long at like 35 mph, on a highway, seriously!). I quickly calculated the distance between my car and the truck, judged I could get out in front easily, then hit the gas. I judged wrong. The space remaining for me to pass was smaller than I’d guessed. But I didn’t realize that until the truck nearly collided with my passenger side. Heart racing, knowing I had no choice but to see this through, I rammed the pedal to the floor, swerved a bit and prayed.
We didn’t crash; hallelujah; no harm, no foul. But my heart kept pounding loudly, declaring, “Shane, you idiot, too close.” But praise God for quick acceleration! And one big Grrrrrrr to the truck who treated an on-ramp like a school zone.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the pace of change in our lives, and especially how that pace changes. A chat with one of you made me ponder change in the church, how fast is too fast, how slow is dangerous. An article on modern robotics lured me into daydreaming of a personal machine that will someday fold my laundry. A book I just finished (Why the West Rules…For Now: The Patterns of History, and What They Reveal about the Future by Ian Morris; stunning, epic, and weighty; don’t agree with everything, but it was well worth my time) analyzes the slow march of civilization through human history. And by slow, I mean that during the 100,000 years or so of our species, our social development, energy use, population and information sharing changed, often increased, but not very quickly. Until this last century, that is, when the pace of change changed. Or rather, exploded, beyond the ancients wildest nightmares. And as we learn more, invent and discover more, acceleration may continue…
More than one of you have expressed to me anxiety at the pace of cultural change; our most aged, wise friends having seen more lifestyle transformations in their lifetimes than any previous generation, ever. Nowadays, it feels like the world around us transforms almost biannually. And some worry we’ve accelerated fast enough to hit ‘the truck’ with devastating power, but not enough to avoid it. Certainly, in the modern world, hitting the brakes seems no longer an option.
Back in the day, religious folk assumed God or the gods controlled everything; that all sovereignty on earth was divine, and no sparrow (let alone person) could fly without Heaven’s tacit assistance. Many in this much-changed world no longer believe that, myself included. God set the rules, I suspect, but always works within them. But the ancients, though they claimed the Hand of God at work where laws of gravity or climate patterns were more appropriate, still discerned something indispensible about divine reality. In the Hebrew Bible, one name for God is “Ancient of Days,” and other religions used the same or similar appellations. The idea seems obvious; divine reality is eternal; more everlasting, in fact, than the process of change human ingenuity drives today, more everlasting even than our ever-changing ideas about God or the gods.
I find that comforting, knowing that even if our judgment fails us, if we drive too fast for our own good, or hit the brakes prematurely, the force that created and sustains this world will abide. That’s comforting, because I believe that Force’s truest name is Love. What was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Which meant my path was about to be blocked by a slow moving, huge truck in the right hand lane. Decision time, right? Speed up to pass the truck, or slow waaaaaaay down and get in line (and by slow, I mean it crawled long at like 35 mph, on a highway, seriously!). I quickly calculated the distance between my car and the truck, judged I could get out in front easily, then hit the gas. I judged wrong. The space remaining for me to pass was smaller than I’d guessed. But I didn’t realize that until the truck nearly collided with my passenger side. Heart racing, knowing I had no choice but to see this through, I rammed the pedal to the floor, swerved a bit and prayed.
We didn’t crash; hallelujah; no harm, no foul. But my heart kept pounding loudly, declaring, “Shane, you idiot, too close.” But praise God for quick acceleration! And one big Grrrrrrr to the truck who treated an on-ramp like a school zone.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the pace of change in our lives, and especially how that pace changes. A chat with one of you made me ponder change in the church, how fast is too fast, how slow is dangerous. An article on modern robotics lured me into daydreaming of a personal machine that will someday fold my laundry. A book I just finished (Why the West Rules…For Now: The Patterns of History, and What They Reveal about the Future by Ian Morris; stunning, epic, and weighty; don’t agree with everything, but it was well worth my time) analyzes the slow march of civilization through human history. And by slow, I mean that during the 100,000 years or so of our species, our social development, energy use, population and information sharing changed, often increased, but not very quickly. Until this last century, that is, when the pace of change changed. Or rather, exploded, beyond the ancients wildest nightmares. And as we learn more, invent and discover more, acceleration may continue…
More than one of you have expressed to me anxiety at the pace of cultural change; our most aged, wise friends having seen more lifestyle transformations in their lifetimes than any previous generation, ever. Nowadays, it feels like the world around us transforms almost biannually. And some worry we’ve accelerated fast enough to hit ‘the truck’ with devastating power, but not enough to avoid it. Certainly, in the modern world, hitting the brakes seems no longer an option.
Back in the day, religious folk assumed God or the gods controlled everything; that all sovereignty on earth was divine, and no sparrow (let alone person) could fly without Heaven’s tacit assistance. Many in this much-changed world no longer believe that, myself included. God set the rules, I suspect, but always works within them. But the ancients, though they claimed the Hand of God at work where laws of gravity or climate patterns were more appropriate, still discerned something indispensible about divine reality. In the Hebrew Bible, one name for God is “Ancient of Days,” and other religions used the same or similar appellations. The idea seems obvious; divine reality is eternal; more everlasting, in fact, than the process of change human ingenuity drives today, more everlasting even than our ever-changing ideas about God or the gods.
I find that comforting, knowing that even if our judgment fails us, if we drive too fast for our own good, or hit the brakes prematurely, the force that created and sustains this world will abide. That’s comforting, because I believe that Force’s truest name is Love. What was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Thursday, July 7, 2011
Faithing…
Tabitha and I spent July 4th at an off-leash dog park near Minnehaha Falls. Fawkes the Dog went with us, of course. Many of you surely know about dog parks, this strange modern phenomenon. But since I only discovered them last year, after adopting our pup, let me explain to those not in-the-know.
Dogs like to play. Love to play. Or, if your dog is like my dog, live to play! And any ole kind of playing is appreciated- chasing a tennis ball down the basement stairs, tugging a warring a rope toy shaped like a monkey, wrestling and pawing and rolling around, and getting the tummy rubbed. So hard, a dog’s life. But the Ultimate in Doggie Play, or so it is for Fawkes, is running full speed in wide-open spaces with another dog in chase. Playing with Tab and I certainly makes Fawkes happy. Playing with other dogs, though, particularly ones that want to play too (an important distinction I’ve learned…), fills a void in her canine soul that her people just can’t. So we take her to dog parks; wide-open areas (usually fenced in) near people parks where dogs can run and play together. Whoever initiated the trend was a brilliant soul, I believe. It allows my dog to do what she loves most, which in turn exhausts her, decreasing the danger of her chewing up our sofa pillows, increasing the likelihood of her sleeping early and waking late. For owners of older dogs, these last concerns aren’t as immediate. But Fawkes is still a puppy, and an energetic one, so again, to whomever invented The Dog Park: Bless you, dear soul.
Of course, my wife will tell you that my loving dog parks took awhile. I worried constantly (still do, sometimes!) about Fawkes running off, or fighting with other dogs, or hurting herself, or… Other dog owners would bring their furry friends to the park, release the leash, and then casually chat with other owners, occasionally checking in. Me? I’d avoid any conversational distractions and hover over Fawkes, mirror her every move, making certain that if any dust-up went down, I’d could immediately to step in and care for my dog, and keep her from fighting. Thus, the dog park experience, in the beginning, was more anxiety producing than enjoyable for me. Fawkes loved it, I knew, but again, it took me awhile to simply let go and trust she’d be okay.
Something I’ve written about before, and believe still, is that a good working definition of “faith” is not the oft-used “your list of beliefs” but something more active- “trust.” To have faith- in God, yourself, your family- is to trust them. Trust they’ll be there for you, not hurt you, work for your best interests and so on. But while I’ve thought a lot about our end in that equation, our building trust (i.e. faith) in God, I haven’t done the same for God’s side. How does God build trust, build faith in us?
I mean, it’s a two-way street, right? If my dog trusted me enough to come back to me when I let her off leash, but I thought she was too slow to respond and stopped trusting her enough to take her to the dog park, well, it’d turn her trust worthless. Not to mention bum her out! Does it work that way with God? Did it take God as long to trust Creation and the humans that evolved as it did for me to feel comfortable with dog parks? Or was God more like my wife, who instinctively loved the park and knew what good it would be for Fawkes, despite the potential troubles? As in many things, the answer is probably- my wife! Or rather, God just seems good at putting trust above fear, love above control, much better than me, or most of us at least.
Whatever the case, I pray this week you’ll think with me more about how God trusts God’s people. God’s faith in us. And perhaps recommit yourself to earning that trust, to making God proud again of how loving, open and compassionate a child of God you are.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Dogs like to play. Love to play. Or, if your dog is like my dog, live to play! And any ole kind of playing is appreciated- chasing a tennis ball down the basement stairs, tugging a warring a rope toy shaped like a monkey, wrestling and pawing and rolling around, and getting the tummy rubbed. So hard, a dog’s life. But the Ultimate in Doggie Play, or so it is for Fawkes, is running full speed in wide-open spaces with another dog in chase. Playing with Tab and I certainly makes Fawkes happy. Playing with other dogs, though, particularly ones that want to play too (an important distinction I’ve learned…), fills a void in her canine soul that her people just can’t. So we take her to dog parks; wide-open areas (usually fenced in) near people parks where dogs can run and play together. Whoever initiated the trend was a brilliant soul, I believe. It allows my dog to do what she loves most, which in turn exhausts her, decreasing the danger of her chewing up our sofa pillows, increasing the likelihood of her sleeping early and waking late. For owners of older dogs, these last concerns aren’t as immediate. But Fawkes is still a puppy, and an energetic one, so again, to whomever invented The Dog Park: Bless you, dear soul.
Of course, my wife will tell you that my loving dog parks took awhile. I worried constantly (still do, sometimes!) about Fawkes running off, or fighting with other dogs, or hurting herself, or… Other dog owners would bring their furry friends to the park, release the leash, and then casually chat with other owners, occasionally checking in. Me? I’d avoid any conversational distractions and hover over Fawkes, mirror her every move, making certain that if any dust-up went down, I’d could immediately to step in and care for my dog, and keep her from fighting. Thus, the dog park experience, in the beginning, was more anxiety producing than enjoyable for me. Fawkes loved it, I knew, but again, it took me awhile to simply let go and trust she’d be okay.
Something I’ve written about before, and believe still, is that a good working definition of “faith” is not the oft-used “your list of beliefs” but something more active- “trust.” To have faith- in God, yourself, your family- is to trust them. Trust they’ll be there for you, not hurt you, work for your best interests and so on. But while I’ve thought a lot about our end in that equation, our building trust (i.e. faith) in God, I haven’t done the same for God’s side. How does God build trust, build faith in us?
I mean, it’s a two-way street, right? If my dog trusted me enough to come back to me when I let her off leash, but I thought she was too slow to respond and stopped trusting her enough to take her to the dog park, well, it’d turn her trust worthless. Not to mention bum her out! Does it work that way with God? Did it take God as long to trust Creation and the humans that evolved as it did for me to feel comfortable with dog parks? Or was God more like my wife, who instinctively loved the park and knew what good it would be for Fawkes, despite the potential troubles? As in many things, the answer is probably- my wife! Or rather, God just seems good at putting trust above fear, love above control, much better than me, or most of us at least.
Whatever the case, I pray this week you’ll think with me more about how God trusts God’s people. God’s faith in us. And perhaps recommit yourself to earning that trust, to making God proud again of how loving, open and compassionate a child of God you are.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, July 1, 2011
Chaos into order…
My most recent reading companion is the book Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early (American) Republic, 1789-1815 by Gordon S. Wood (trivia question: In what 1990’s Oscar-winning film does a character cite that author?). I know, I’m out of school, I should develop more useful hobbies. But for this week leading up to July Fourth, the book contains some relevant info. Truly!
For instance, you maybe realized that the title’s date range corresponds to the formation period of our denomination. Not that our earliest leaders and members would’ve described it that way! When those faithful souls embarked on a new adventure in faith, the goal was abolishing denominations. “Unity is our Polar Star.”
I studied our church history in seminary, but what this book emphasizes that I’d never appreciated was the general chaos of those decades. We hear a lot in school (and political campaigns!) about the revolutionary generation- our founding mothers and fathers- their battles, their tea parties, their ax-wielding and truth-telling. But once they kicked the Red Coats back to Buckingham, the story often ends. Or skips ahead to the Wild West and Civil War. Reminds me of learning about Israel’s Exodus, singing songs of Moses and the Red Sea, reading about the wilderness sojourn and arrival in the Promised Land. But what happens next- i.e. the tough, turbulent work of creating a new nation in a new home- that was glossed over so we could play David and Goliath.
So it was in my American History classes. Turns out, though, the couple decades post-Revolutionary War were capitol C Crazy, or if you prefer, dynamic! For starters, no one had ever attempted democracy over such vast territory. Then, what little functioning government they had was being made up on the fly (independent judiciary, postal system, taxing authorities). Plus, people were pushing to expand political participation, to restrict it, to free slaves, to enslave more, to quickly settle Native American land, to slowly arrive at a just agreement (no one said, “Just leave them alone”), and everything in between. And this near-anarchy crossed into churches as well. Newer, frequently subversive, forms of worship and preaching appeared, pushing older, established (read- European) churches to adapt. Culture became more entrepreneurial and wild. Churches adapted further. It was chaos; so much so, new ways of doing church were inevitable. Enter…Disciples of Christ.
So it’s no coincidence that a (if not the) fundamental value for us is “Freedom,” right?! Not after emerging in the decades following the Revolution, and their subsequent upending of many hierarchies and traditions. Nowadays, we’re usually considered ‘Old School,’ with our hymnals, organ, lack of video screens and predictable worship patterns. We’re usually better at nurturing freethinking, diverse believing and relevant engagement with the world than most contemporary style churches. It’s not a little ironic, then, to remember the days when Disciples worship got wild and crazy.
In Genesis 1, aka The Beginning, the author paints a kind of ‘before the big bang’ picture. It’s non-scientific, obviously, but sublime and truthful nevertheless. The idea is that Earth then was a shapeless, watery void. In a word, all was chaos. But over this chaos the Spirit moved to form order, then life. Creation, therefore, requires both bedlam and guidance.
What was in the beginning, is now, as they say. Some churches prioritize chaos over order, and vice versa (we lean to the “order” side, yes?). But both are useful. Indeed, are necessary for creating new things. Over our national and denominational history, we’ve seen periods of disruption and periods of formation, times of strife and disunion and times of reconciliation and progress. So next week, as we ponder and celebrate that national history, take a moment to ask- What’s next (for our nation, our church, your life)? Shall I/We risk a little chaos? Is it time, instead, to pick up pieces and build anew? What went on before that needs conserving? What gets in the way of Me/Us following God’s call? If you dare, feel free to share your answers with me! And thanks to all who’ve gone before, and continue still, to establish our freedom- religious or otherwise.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
For instance, you maybe realized that the title’s date range corresponds to the formation period of our denomination. Not that our earliest leaders and members would’ve described it that way! When those faithful souls embarked on a new adventure in faith, the goal was abolishing denominations. “Unity is our Polar Star.”
I studied our church history in seminary, but what this book emphasizes that I’d never appreciated was the general chaos of those decades. We hear a lot in school (and political campaigns!) about the revolutionary generation- our founding mothers and fathers- their battles, their tea parties, their ax-wielding and truth-telling. But once they kicked the Red Coats back to Buckingham, the story often ends. Or skips ahead to the Wild West and Civil War. Reminds me of learning about Israel’s Exodus, singing songs of Moses and the Red Sea, reading about the wilderness sojourn and arrival in the Promised Land. But what happens next- i.e. the tough, turbulent work of creating a new nation in a new home- that was glossed over so we could play David and Goliath.
So it was in my American History classes. Turns out, though, the couple decades post-Revolutionary War were capitol C Crazy, or if you prefer, dynamic! For starters, no one had ever attempted democracy over such vast territory. Then, what little functioning government they had was being made up on the fly (independent judiciary, postal system, taxing authorities). Plus, people were pushing to expand political participation, to restrict it, to free slaves, to enslave more, to quickly settle Native American land, to slowly arrive at a just agreement (no one said, “Just leave them alone”), and everything in between. And this near-anarchy crossed into churches as well. Newer, frequently subversive, forms of worship and preaching appeared, pushing older, established (read- European) churches to adapt. Culture became more entrepreneurial and wild. Churches adapted further. It was chaos; so much so, new ways of doing church were inevitable. Enter…Disciples of Christ.
So it’s no coincidence that a (if not the) fundamental value for us is “Freedom,” right?! Not after emerging in the decades following the Revolution, and their subsequent upending of many hierarchies and traditions. Nowadays, we’re usually considered ‘Old School,’ with our hymnals, organ, lack of video screens and predictable worship patterns. We’re usually better at nurturing freethinking, diverse believing and relevant engagement with the world than most contemporary style churches. It’s not a little ironic, then, to remember the days when Disciples worship got wild and crazy.
In Genesis 1, aka The Beginning, the author paints a kind of ‘before the big bang’ picture. It’s non-scientific, obviously, but sublime and truthful nevertheless. The idea is that Earth then was a shapeless, watery void. In a word, all was chaos. But over this chaos the Spirit moved to form order, then life. Creation, therefore, requires both bedlam and guidance.
What was in the beginning, is now, as they say. Some churches prioritize chaos over order, and vice versa (we lean to the “order” side, yes?). But both are useful. Indeed, are necessary for creating new things. Over our national and denominational history, we’ve seen periods of disruption and periods of formation, times of strife and disunion and times of reconciliation and progress. So next week, as we ponder and celebrate that national history, take a moment to ask- What’s next (for our nation, our church, your life)? Shall I/We risk a little chaos? Is it time, instead, to pick up pieces and build anew? What went on before that needs conserving? What gets in the way of Me/Us following God’s call? If you dare, feel free to share your answers with me! And thanks to all who’ve gone before, and continue still, to establish our freedom- religious or otherwise.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
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