What was that all about?

I’ve embraced the name Watchman spoken to me years ago. As the name suggests, I am as one who stands on the wall and stares into the night. I watch for movement. I try and interpret what I see, regardless of how unclear it might be. Right now I see a lot of confusion. I read a handful of blogs of people who have left the Church As We Know It. Whether their reasons are spiritual abuse or just plain disillusionment, all have a similar theme of looking back and evaluating what in the world they were a part of. They question themselves, often feeling shameful or stupid for being so naïve. I see this because I’ve done the same thing. I was a leader in the Church As We Know It for a long time. I was considered an expert in some regards. I led what is commonly referred to as worship. I wrote songs, lots of them, that many people seemed to enjoy and tell me they were their favorites. I felt pretty confident in this role. I had a secure sense of place because of it. Now, years later, I look back on that time of my life with strange ambivalence. I question myself viscously. What was that season of life based on, seeing that my life and point of view on worship is so radically different now? Was that real? Was it authentic, or was I just a poser who found a place to stand and feel important because of the effort I put into it? I can’t really say. What I can say, however, is that I liked who I was at that time, but I like who I’ve become now even more. The reason I like where I am is that in spite my age, I feel like I am still growing, still learning, still changing. The point for me is not to look back and wonder whether or not my life was authentic or not. My past is what it is. Instead I have a present and a future to consider. My previous story helps me make sense of what I see at hand and ahead. To my friends on this journey toward the Church Of The Future; The watchman says look back as well as beyond. Embrace where you’ve been, but don’t want it back. There is a new place to create and establish. It’s the whole point of your feeling disenchanted. Change can’t occur until we get tired of staying in same place.

Becoming Churchless 101

If I were to ever offer a course on church planting, my first class would be titled Becoming Churchless 101. It would last about three years and I would charge you a matriculation fee of about $7500 a year, just to give it credibility and help me pay for my bi-annual study breaks. The point of the class would be to pull you away from your culture and immerse you into the one you want to bless. Consider the difference between your Sunday morning as a church attender, and that of a churchless person. An average churchless Sunday morning. See what your average churchless person gets to enjoy on Sunday morning. Sleep in. Read the paper. Make breakfast. Play with the kids. Go back to bed. Watch a little football. Have an early tee time. A typical day at The Church As We Know It. You, on the other hand, spend five to six hours on Sundays orchestrating a mass movement of your family to a place for your kids to play with other kids, which is really what much of The Church As We Know It has become. You have to get everyone up, fed, dressed, in the car, buckled in, transported, parked, and delivered or dropped off at the right room. Once in place, you make your way with the crowd into the big room with the band and other visual and auditory presentations. After the information has been dispensed in the prescribed amount of time, you must make your way back through the maze to retrieve your little ones who hand you the coloring sheet of Joseph and the Coat of Many Colors, to which you comment, “It’s beautiful.” and you’re stuck wondering what to do with it. During all of this migratory movement, you manage to have a few brief interactions with people you know along the way. “How’s it going?” “Good, Busy, but good” “Let’s get together sometime” “Yea, let’s do.” But your son is tugging on your arm to go so you can get to Burger King and get a new Transformer. You finally get to the car, get the tribe in place and you depart for a quick lunch before the afternoon’s activities commence. And that was church for you. To some of you, you have no idea what I’m talking about. You love Sundays and all the activity and movement and chaos and people and so on. If so, my advice is not for you. To others of you, your immediate reaction to this description is defensive. How could I discourage the assembling together of the saints? If so, my advice is not for you. But some of you know what I’m saying. Is this the kind of life I want to invite someone in to experience? What would make your average churchless person give up their morning routine for yours? This is why I propose you do the opposite. Give up your Sunday morning culture and adopt a churchless one and see what results. If you are serious about planting a church, I would bet it would affect the kind of church you end up with. You just might begin to see the Church of the Future.

The Weight of the World

In the culture I was raised in spiritually, my college buddies and I were taught that the only thing that stood in the way of seeing people come to faith was our lack of courage to share the Gospel. Along the way we were equipped with a Summary of the Information and were assured that there were people everywhere dying to hear it. Time and again, men, mostly, told their stories about how easy it was to get folks to make a positive response to the Information and added something about how hard our hearts must be if we don’t do something to join in. Most of the storytellers, as I recall, had come through the Jesus Movement in the late sixties, early seventies, when there seemed to be a genuine response to spiritual concerns. Among all of them, there was an assumption that this same kind of thing was just around the corner and that the world has yet to see what God can do through one college student whose heart was completely committed to Him. I bought this outfit and wore it for years, but have finally discarded it since it doesn’t fit me anymore. It doesn’t fit me anymore because this statement assumes there has never been a fully committed person in history up to now, and that if I could somehow summon enough commitment, I would hold the key to the Next Great Awakening. I liked thinking that way as a college kid, but not as a man in the midpoint of his life. Maybe its age, fatigue or just wisdom, but I can’t take on that kind of weight these days. I prefer the yoke that was termed as easy and light. It’s easier for me to believe that the Future of the Age doesn’t rest with me and my level of commitment. I like the idea of having a part in the process, but not being in charge of it.

Die Trying

Google the phrase “worship industry” and you’ll find the latest in discussion about what’s wrong with The Church As We Know It. Why does it seem there is so much out there describing the problems but not a lot of visible evidence of any kind of sweeping change? You would think with as many experts out there expounding on the predicament that eventually we could find a solution somewhere. I have to place myself in that category. I have devoted much of my blog describing what I hope for The Church of the Future. I have plenty to say on what I think is missing, but do I have any answers either? What drives change? One word: survival. We change or die or maybe we just become irrelevant, and then die, but bottom line is this; we won’t change until we see that we must. Change, however, offers us no guarantees. I am undergoing significant change and reorienting my life course, but I could also die trying to change. And while I may die trying, I hang onto the hope that maybe someone will take inspiration from my failure to actually make the difference that I never could usher in. Agents of change have a tough road to walk. If you are a watchman like me, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s lonely out on the wall, waiting, watching, looking, waiting, waiting, and waiting. There aren’t many who check in on you, or even know what you do or that you even exist. But you take solace in the responsibility of your role. You know why you do what you do, even though others don’t. Your motive in not their appreciation.

Looking Back

I know I joke about my problem of listening to Christian talk radio, but there is a purpose to my occasional tuning in. I think of myself, not only as a Watchman, but also as an Explorer. I have felt misunderstood in both roles, with the biggest one being labeled as one who is angry or bitter toward his past, or who has drifted from his faith. This is not the case. It is actually the opposite. My faith appears to be alive and well more today than I can remember. My religious lifestyle and practices look much different than they ever did, but outer culture is not an indication of inner vibrancy. Two seemingly conflicting points on the map face the explorer; the Horizon and the Shore. Both represent necessary destinations. The Shore provides safety and security. Nothing wrong with either. I’m glad I was nurtured in this environment. We probably need more of it. The Horizon, on the other hand, represents the future of the Shore. The survival of the Shore is actually dependent on exploring the Horizon. What lies beyond water’s edge may have great implications that would permanently affect the Shore. Would the catastrophe of Hurricane Katrina be as bad if those on land really understood the gravity of the oncoming storm? I have committed this season of my life to sailing toward the Horizon. To do so, I’ve had to leave the Shore behind, that being The Church As We Know It. I’m only a few years into my journey. I don’t know that I have much to report, but I do plan on staying in contact. One way I do this is to listen to what leaders from The Church As We Know It are saying on the radio. It’s like getting reports from the Shore, the culture and way of life I left behind. I compare what is being said and taught against what I am finding over the Horizon. If I see a storm coming, will I have the ability to communicate what I see to those on the Shore? I hope so.

Explaining some terms

I had a reader ask me if I could explain my use of the phrase, The Church As We Know It, so here goes. The Church As We Know It refers to that part the Church that we can see, experience and explain. It has to do with our current practice and culture that we take for granted. It’s that part with which we are so familiar, that in many ways we have become unfamiliar with the central intent. Ask anyone you know to give a definition of church, and most will give you a very similar response, regardless of background. Terms like, Sunday, sermon, music, a building, helping people will most likely be used to describe a common understanding of the current practice of Church. In this way, The Church As We Know It is visible, and once something becomes visible, it is in danger of becoming less about faith and more about effort and abilities. Faith is being sure of what we DON’T see. The longer we go on living according to what we DO see, faith eventually gets pushed aside without even knowing it. We can fill page after page with problems in the Church As We Know It, and an equal number of pages with solutions, but without an answer that requires faith, it will be impossible to make any kind of real change happen. But change may never come in my lifetime. The Church As We Know It sometimes teaches that one is assured of a result if a step of faith is made. But The Story is clear that many died through the years without ever seeing what they hoped for. Cause and effect works in physics, but not so much when walking by faith. Every gambler knows that once the money is on the table, it’s no longer his. He hopes for a win, but he’s not guaranteed one. If he could see a guaranteed win, it wouldn’t be a gamble. Such is with faith. If we see what we hope for, it’s not really faith. I’m taking a gamble in looking for the Church of the Future. I may never find it, but then again, that may not be the point.

Free to be Angry

Often on the Christian Talk radio station that I shouldn’t be listening to, I hear preachers refer incessantly about the evils of our society. They constantly remind listeners about the problems of gambling or pornography or abortion or lack of prayer in schools. After outlining each of these in detail, it almost always comes to a shaming of the Church for not being more concerned, not being more involved or not being more politically active. In essence, these leaders seem to be saying that the reason people are living together and are having babies out of wedlock is because the Church is not angry enough. To me, the beauty of this country is the foundation of freedom laid out in the Constitution. Freedom is a core concept of the teaching of Jesus. Christ came to give us freedom. It is this very reason that He died. Its’ need is in our very nature. It’s why movies like Braveheart, Gladiator and 300 seem to resonate. They remind us of this fact. My kids disagree with me when I tell them they are free to make their own choices, despite what Mom and Dad say. "But we’ll get in trouble,” they would reply. To which I would say, “Of course you will, but you’re still free to make that choice!” Freedom is not a complicated condition. It means we are free to do whatever we want to do. It means we are free to good as well as evil. Whichever I choose, either way, I will bear the fruit or consequences of those choices. So to lay blame for the behavior of our culture at the feet of the Church seems a little harsh. The Church could be busy drawing lines all day long, but it seems to me that once the line is drawn, human nature feels the need to cross that line in order to see what’s on the other side. At some point, instead of fighting it, shouldn’t the Church just extend freedom and wait for the consequences to kick in? This is what the father did with the son in the story of the Prodigal in Luke 15. The son wanted his freedom, so the father gave it. He even went the extra step and funded it. No amount of rules would change the young man. His wisdom knew that the son must taste it himself. I would hope that the Church of the Future would adopt this approach to relating to its culture. Instead of yelling, picketing, protesting, defending, fighting, resisting, complaining, and opposing in order to bring about change, would it have more impact if it put its energy into living the true life of freedom, thereby experiencing (and demonstrating) the joy and beauty of doing good?

Remembering Dad

My dad passed away two years ago today. My first thought when he died was that he would never see bread&cup. I thought it appropriate to post an exerpt of the words I spoke at his funeral. Hope you enjoy it. ------------------------------------------------- It took a while, as it does for most youth, to realize that the vistas of the world I was seeing was a direct result of the shoulders I was standing on. I thought in order to matter in the world, you had to go out and conquer it. But what I have learned from my dad, the man named Jack Shinn, I now believe that it’s just the opposite. You make a difference by simply letting the world come to you, and then offering blessing to each and every person that comes your way. From time to time, I would make it back to Route 2 Box 162, sometimes bringing university students with me to visit the farm and experience the country life. Without exception, every person I brought there was greeted by my Dad with a hug and a kind word. Sometimes those students would later tell me how much that meant to them. Dad seemed to think that it may be the only hug they got, so he would offer it. It didn’t matter the color of their skin or how long there hair was, they got the same attention. You make a difference by letting the world come to you and offer blessing to each and every person that comes your way. As I got older, this lesson became more and more evident. People would say to me how much they appreciated Dad’s smile or sense of humor or offering a piece of candy. They remark how positive he always was, how willing he was to help out. In his latter years, he dealt with much physical pain, but you would only know it through the grimace on his face. He never complained about it and never allowed it to rule his spirit. No summary, however, would be complete without the story I have told many, many times. It’s a story that encapsulates his life and what he valued most. It’s a story that happened when I was about 12 years old, but I didn’t hear it until nearly 20 years later. The story takes place at Route 2 Box 162 Bartlesville. With very few kids around my age, I had to learn how to entertain myself. Dad helped that effort by buying me a little Yamaha 80cc Dirt bike. That motorcycle provided me countless hours of fun. With 26 acres to my discretion, one would think that would be plenty of space for a 12 year old boy to ride. But for some reason, I decided to include the front and back lawn in that 26 acres. As you can imagine, motorcycle tires are not kind to growing grass, and it didn’t take long before a nice little path was worn around the front of the house, to the back of the house, then out to the pasture. Round and round I would go, living in my mind the adventure of being a world-champion racer, or being chased by bad guys. This path was pretty unsightly, given that it was visible to everyone that passed on the road out front. One time a neighbor had stopped by to visit and he asked Dad this question. “Jack, how come you let your son tear up the yard like that? Why don’t you make him keep out in the pasture?” Now this was a pretty logical question given the amount of land we owned, but my Dad’s wisdom sometimes defied logic. To know my Dad was to know what a deep reservoir he was. Even though he was a man of few words, he was also a man of countless thoughts and musings. In these past few days, I have read many of those thoughts recorded in the margins of his Bible. I believe what set my Dad apart was his ability to look at his choices and side with that which was of most importance. In other words, he had his priorities right. He responded to the neighbor by saying. “The grass will come back” he said, “but the boy won’t.” Now if you drive by Route 2 Box 162 today, you will see the grass has come back. The boy lives in Lincoln, Nebraska in a home of his own, with two kids of his own. He hopes to be the kind of man Jack Shinn was, a man who hopes that as the world comes to him, that he will offer blessing to each and every person that comes his way. We will miss you, Dad

Guilt

The Church of the Future needs to take a lesson from the Church As We Know It when it considers how to motivate people. Consider the use of guilt. I recently read in a newsletter a chiding from a pastor at a Church As We Know It. He was complaining about how people tend to get lazy in the summer and slack off from their church duties, like helping in Children’s Church and going to small group. Even though they might have a very legitimate reason for not being able to teach Sunday School in the summer, the basic assumption was that the members are not holding up their end of the bargain. The article went so far as to remind members that Jesus was not a nine-month out of the year Savior, and since he went so far as going to the cross, the least we could do is go to all the meetings that were offered. He concluded that we should obey the command to not neglect the assembling together of the saints. Why not go further in the reproach? If nine months isn’t good enough, why is once-a-week any better? Why not everyday? Why not twice-a-day, three times a day? Where do you end the shame? This is the problem with guilt-based motivation. It works with arbitrary reference points. It doesn’t concern itself with freedom. Its prime usefulness is in survival. Consider it this way. If you were in business offering a product that no one was buying, you would have to ask the inevitable “why?” Is it the fault of the market or the product? What could be done to change the lack of interest? Guilt is an option here, and it works in the short term, kind of like the guilt over global warming, but eventually people will end up doing what makes most sense to them. So why not focus on what makes most sense rather than using guilt? People are busy in our culture. Why not take the summer off church activities? Why not trim the Church As We Know It schedule down to once a month worship services? You and I both know why that won’t happen. Because people will forget to give their tithe, and if they forget to give their tithe, we can’t pay all the salaries, and if we can’t pay all the salaries, then staff won’t have a job and if the staff doesn’t have a job, we would have to assume that God doesn’t care about us, and if God doesn’t care about us, then what are we really believing in? See why guilt is easier than freedom?

CB's and Cell Phones

I count it a privilege to be living in a time of transition as it pertains to faith. I can’t imagine any other time in history where humans were exposed to so much change. Unless you’re Amish, in the last 10 years you have been required to change how you live, how you talk on the phone, how you spend money and how you pay your bills. The car you used to be able to work on in your driveway now requires a special mechanic with a high tech degree. The list could go on. Change isn’t always about right or wrong. Oftentimes it’s simply about what makes sense. Take cell phones for example. It’s not wrong to not have a cell phone. In some ways it would be great to not be chained to one, but they do have tremendous advantages. I can recall before getting my first cell phone thinking they were just a new form of CB radio. They were clunky, heavy, and expensive. But over time it just made sense to change and get one. The switch has been so effective; we finally got rid of our landline in our house. In our case, the new is better than the old. Such is the case with the Church As We Know It. I would never say the current congregational model is wrong, but I do believe there are new opportunities that need to be considered. While many would claim the way they do church is the biblical way, the Sunday morning monological approach has its roots in modern culture as much as it does in the New Testament. Efficient in its design, certain in its answers, The Church As We Know It has worked well for a period of time. But unless you haven’t noticed, we are living in a different age. Before the days of the cell phone, we didn’t know any differently. The technology was not accessible, so change was not an issue. But now that we have the means, we must decide whether or not we will give ourselves the permission to utilize it or not. Again, not a decision of right or wrong, but one of adaptation and value. I can’t imagine not having a cell phone, even though I clearly remember life without one. Sure they are a hassle at times, making you feel enslaved to it, but it does have an off button. But I will accept the liabilities of owning and utilizing one versus trying to live in our current culture without. In the same way, having adapted to a new way of The Church of the Future for a few years now, I don’t see myself going back to the old way anytime soon. The new is not right. The old is not wrong. I prefer to describe it as a better fit for the direction I see ahead.

Theology on a Napkin

I’ve been dialoging with another blogger lately on the issue of joy. His thoughts have led me to reflect more on my story and the faith that was handed to me. I was raised riding through the spiritual life on the Fact/Faith/Feeling train. For those of you unfamiliar with this illustration, it basically says that Facts are the engine to which you connect your Faith, and your Feelings are like the caboose and get to come along for the ride. The logic is fine to a point, unless you find you’ve been run over by that train. Here’s some of how I got caught on the tracks. My spiritual culture held emotion at arm’s length. If I had a dime for every time I heard a leader say, “feelings change; facts never do,” I’d be a rich man. This sentiment is fine if treated as a proverb, but somehow it became a theology. I was not as secure as all the leaders who taught that illustration. They would go on and on about love and the joy of the Lord, how these are not feelings, and so it left me discounting how I felt about things, especially about God. I cut myself off from my emotions, assuming they were not to be trusted. I concluded I should just live inside my mind. It worked for a while, but the Caboose wouldn’t accept taking backseat. Slowly over time, I was increasingly living in fear. I was afraid of messing up, of making God mad. I justified it by calling it the fear of the Lord. I memorized Psalm 115:3 to remind myself that God could crush me at any second and probably should, since I deserved it for that thought I just had. Feelings were speaking, but Mind wasn’t listening. Graciously, I found myself gaining an ear for Feelings voice. There were stories to be told about being inadequate and why I was so fearful. Feelings wrote long essays on my need to please and fit in and how that influenced even what I thought of God and how I assumed he viewed me. I’m glad I finally tuned in. So this is in part why I have a hard time with the choo-choo train illustration. It works better on a napkin, but not as my paradigm. Facts are fine and necessary and faith must be rooted in something solid or it will falter. But feelings are not the bastard children as I once thought. I now believe how I feel is extremely important in my spiritual well being. If I feel discouraged or depressed, I better take note. It may pass as quickly as the guy late to catch a plane, but if not, there may be a message I need to hear.

Turning 40

I’m turning 40 this week. But if you know me or looked at my profile, you would see that I’m about four years off. Let me explain. I was raised by parents with a can-do attitude. They were not complainers in any way. They both worked very hard at whatever they did, and I think that rubbed off on me. Consequently I find it easy to take responsibility for my actions and outcome in life. As a freshman in college, I encountered what was called at the time the “freshman fifteen,” those extra pounds you found clinging onto the midsection as a result of the all-you-can-eat dorm food and countless late night pizzas. Some of my friends would bemoan the fact that they were gaining weight, as they stuffed another slice of Dominos in their mouth. I resolved not to follow suit. So I changed my diet, changed my lifestyle, even changed my major. I got serious about getting fit and doing something about my circumstances. I lost weight as a result, and started looking and feeling better. I was on a new path I liked very much. I liked the feeling of being in control. I charted my course. I started exercizing. I set my goals. I ran 10k’s. I even ran a few marathons. Life was good. So when I turned 40 for real, I decided I needed another challenge, so I committed to run another marathon. I did it before, why couldn’t I do it again? Who knows, maybe I can even run a PB (personal best). Being no stranger to training, I did what I knew to do; put in lots of miles. No better place to start than with a steady dose of LSD (long, slow distance). But like the other LSD, it came with its after effects I noticed it first thing of a morning. Getting out of bed each day got harder and harder. Joints were slow to bend back into working order. The next thing I started noticing was the heat. I always loved summer heat. I felt it made me stronger, but now it makes me fatigued. I had to run earlier in the day. From there I became acutely aware of other conditions. Bumps on my body that wouldn’t go away with ice or heat packs. Hair growing out my ears instead of the top of my head. Stray eyebrows that looked like curly banjo strings. What is happening here? No more cause and effect. No more feeling in full control. So this is what I mean when I say I’m finally turning 40. It’s taken me about four years to accept the aging process, to resign to the fact that regardless of how hard I work, I will never be as fast or strong or lean as I once was. My body is failing, just like everyone else’s. It’s normal. It’s part of life and I can allow it. I’m losing control of my physical body and for once I am beginning to see that it just might be another step toward freedom that I am longing for. I can feel free from the need to chase an unreachable goal. I would hope for a healthy life free from illness for the rest of my days, but the true life of liberty really flows from someplace other than muscles that flex and joints that don’t ache.

Thinking inside the box.

Junk has a way of accumulating in a house after living in it for any length of time. There are two ways to deal with the junk, my way and the wrong way. Some people are savers of the junk, some are tossers. It can cause trouble if a saver marries a tosser, because the saver is continually asking, “Honey, where’s my _______.” The tosser has either a) thrown it out, b) thrown it out years ago, or c) sold it on eBay. I only speak from theory here, and what others say. I would never do something like that to my dear wife. I propose that from time to time we should purge our language of useless words and phrases that have piled up, and have a sort of verbal garage sale, so to speak. Here’s the first one I want to get rid of: Outside the box “Our folks think way outside the box…” “We are doing church outside the box…” “I encourage our people to push the limits and get outside the box…” What’s wrong with the box, and why are we desperate to get out of it? “Outside the box” has become a meaningless phrase today. Like a soda can after a few miles in the cup holder on a bumpy road, it’s lost its fizz. Originally coined to represent creativity and the pursuit of fresh ideas, it has slowly eroded into just another innocuous term to reflect the inner reality of one thing: insecurity. Insecure people are the ones who seem in constant need of reinvention. They change cars, clothes, styles, friends, jobs and even churches on a regular basis. This is not out of the box thinking, acting or living. Its only shows the lack of an inner core, a “box” if I may, where identity should reside. Insecure people tend to hide behind the moniker and brag that they are outside the box. But true out of the box thinking cannot exist without a box in which you are comfortable. We all need a place in which to come home and live and rest. I offer a new saying for our culture. I am thinking “inside the box” these days, which means I am learning who I am, what my real core identity is and what my core values are. If more people knew how to think inside the box, I would be willing to bet that our world would actually become a more creative place.

Job versus Work IV

I don’t know if this is a fair comparison or not, but ministry always felt a little like a position in sales for me. There is a Product (The Gospel) that must sell. Depending on the Company, there may also be regular quotas to meet. There are monthly performance reports to fill out, and when a group of your Salesmen colleagues get together, there might be a compulsion to tell a story or two about the latest deal you closed. You might even be inclined to stretch the truth a little, just to fit in. Forgive the crude association, but that was the nagging sense I always carried with me. I was raised in a Sales oriented culture, where those stories were highly valued. My leaders were Salesmen extraordinaire, at least back in their day. They had legendary tales of people just showing up to buy the Product. It was in their mind that people were dying to hear about the Product, and it was your job to tell them about it and register the transaction for the good of the Company. To them it was as easy as taking candy from a baby. So there I was, young new Salesman, trying desperately to fit into my Sales culture, and I couldn’t make a Sale. Everyone, I was told, was a potential customer, so whether or not I got on a plane or a ski lift or stood in a long line at the DMV, I was trained to think sell, sell, sell. Try as I may, I just couldn’t do it. I never once made a Sale. It’s ironic that I am now again in a position of sales. I am selling food. And once our restaurant opens, I will be selling ambience and a place to sit and enjoy it. But the contrast of the two could not be starker. No one ever wanted the previous Product. It didn’t matter that I believed in it. I could never convince someone else that they needed it. On the other hand, with my food, I now have people asking me about it. I get phone calls, emails, questions from people I don’t even know, wondering when our store will be open. It’s an incredible feeling, to be sought out like that. To have a product that basically sells itself is just short of amazing. This is why I say I’m working again. I finally quit my job of selling the Product and have started doing new work. Its work I feel good at, and good about. Its work that doesn’t feel like work. It’s just a whole lot of fun. The hardest part is that I had to walk away and disappoint a lot of people to get here. I fear being seen as the one who turned his back on the Product because he was ashamed of it, and now he is running a bar. A word of advice to those swimming against the current; learn to listen to the Wind. Its voice is your most imperative to hear. There will be countless ones in your head who sound like people you know, and theirs will undoubtedly be the loudest. I never know when the Wind will speak, but I find it’s usually when the air is the most still. It’s then I can hear the message that I think is all any of us really want to hear, “Well done.”

Job versus Work III

As I mentioned previously, I’ve quit my job and started working again. Let me explain that a little more. I believe the need to work is innate. It is in our nature to accomplish, to bring order, to design, create and ultimately leave something behind long after we are gone. This is why I separate the idea of work from the current understanding of having a job. Very few of us are lucky enough to have a job that includes an opportunity to do this kind of work. I saw this dilemma all the time in college students, especially as they got nearer to graduation. They all asked the same question, “What am I going to do with my life?” My starting point was always to start by finding out about desire. What made you choose this major? What did you picture yourself doing or becoming? But the direction inevitably shifted when we would get past the subject of getting a job and get down to what is at the core of that person’s heart. “If money was no object, what would you do with your life?” I’ve asked this question so many times, it almost feels cliché’ The answers revealed the tension between our need for a job and the yearning to find real Work. The engineering majors were the easiest. They seemed to know more about what they wanted to do than the English, Psychology or the Art History majors. Engineers have a tangible element to their work. Mom and Dad don’t worry as much about Johnny the Bridge Builder as they do with Johnny as the Starving Artist. Its harder to pay the rent with the canvas than the blueprint. I was fortunate to find a job right out of college that was in my major field, Exercise Science. My position at the Central YMCA in Oklahoma City gave me a chance to put my learning into practice everyday. I got paid to play basketball and workout with members. It was an easy gig, except when people asked me in conversation what my day was like. If they showed too much jealously, I would retort with “I guess it sucks to be you.” But everyday, despite the ease of the job, there was the pull on me to do something more. The YMCA was not where I wanted to be. I wanted to be back on campus, talking with students about matters of faith and such. This was my real work. So when the chance to throw myself into that work came along, I took it. I moved to California to attend seminary and work with university students. The inner tension subsided. My work and job were now one and the same. Fast forward to fifteen years later. Still working with university students, but the job and the work had drifted apart. What had changed? Why was I no longer passionate about my job? Or was it my work? The two did not feel the same as they once did. How could I get them to reunite? to be continued...

Job versus Work II

A group of us were celebrating a friend’s 40th birthday this weekend. As I was standing in the men’s room, taking care of business, a guy who had obviously had a little too much to drink walked up to use the stall next to me. He made a serious man-law violation; he asked me a question. “Sssslo whatsss do yooou do?” he boldly queried. In my mind I chided, “please, dude, not here in the toilet.” But I quickly remembered that I didn't have to give my standard clever answer to hide what I really did, and relief settled in when I knew I didn’t have to respond with, “Oh, I’m a minister.” This almost always adds an immediate chill to any conversation. But now that I think of it, maybe I should have said that to the drunk guy to get him to shut up so I could go back to going number one. It’s not the work of a pastor with which I wasn’t comfortable; it was the job “pastor” that made relating more difficult. You see, it was always hard for me to relate to normal people when my full time job was being a pastor. Building a bridge to find common ground to discuss anything was hard to find once the “pastor” flag was raised. Yet some guys seemed to thrive on these kinds of “single serving” interactions, because inevitably their sermons would always start out with telling the audience about the person they led to Christ on the plane on the way here. It never dawned on me that they never gave illustrations involving their golfing buddies or the neighbor across the back fence. It was always about the guy in the checkout line, or the homeless man, or the guy who came into the church office for help. These last two years have been a freeing revelation to learn that in spite my job change, my work stays the same. In seminary, and at many pastor’s conferences I’ve attended, they make a big, big deal about our role in equipping the saints to do the WORK of the ministry. But the system is not really set up to support this idea, because the guys with the JOB of the ministry have created it this way (of which I was one). The only way I see it changing is to give more leaders permission to quit their day job so they can become more effective at their work. To be continued…

Job versus Work

Are these different things? The reason I ask is that I’ve been thinking a lot about the two since my drastic life shift. Two years ago I changed jobs, or did I change my line of work? I’m not trying to split hairs here or play a semantics game. I want to know what Solomon meant when he said there is nothing better for a man than to eat, drink and enjoy his work. I get the first part of his proverb. Food is a common experience between all people, regardless of age, race, or economic status. It can be enjoyed in simple fare, or with great expense. Happiness can show up on a picnic blanket or a banquet table, in a humble sack lunch as well as in an eight course feast. It’s the work thing that is not so clear. God said in Genesis that humankind would be cursed to toil in work by the sweat of the brow, but then Solomon turns right around and says that the greatest gift from God in all of life is to eat, drink and enjoy that work that we were so graciously burdened with. Did I miss something? I think I missed the paradigm shift somewhere along the road when work became job. It seems we work differently today. Most jobs have tight definition, bounded mostly by time and location. Our jobs have set hours, mainly in the day time hours, and as a rule, spanning eight or so hours. The parameters may be sitting at a desk behind a computer screen or limited to an office space. And for how many of us, our jobs are a place we look forward most to leaving and going to do something else? And do we hate our jobs because they are just that; a job. Would we be better off if we were really able to quit our jobs and start working? I started counting the number of hours over the last two years that I have been putting in trying to start this restaurant and I was amazed, a bit stunned actually. Not by the amount of time I’ve been devoting to it, but rather by the fact that it doesn’t seem like a job. It’s a whole lot of fun. I get up earlier. I work more and have more energy. I do more and get more done. At the end of the day, I’m tired but not depressed. I look forward to getting up in the morning. I really think I quit my job and started working again. To be continued…

The Dog and the Saltdogs

There was a song by a guy named Darrell Evans that I remember singing quite a while back, don’t remember the title, but the crescendo line of the song said, “and freedom is now the song of my heart.” That line means something different to me now than it did then. Last year I saw a former ministry colleague at a baseball game for our local semi-pro team. As we chatted, he asked me if I would be interested in taking his place as team chaplain next year, as he and his wife were moving to another state to take on a new ministry position. Not thinking much of it, I said I’d be interested, but left it at that. In March of this year, he called me up and asked again if I was still serious about doing the chaplain gig. Now to be completely honest, I must say I had ulterior motives in saying yes. Our new restaurant we are opening is only about a 5 min walk from the ballpark, so if I had a foot in the door with the team office, I might be able to do a little good-guy marketing, plus I can get free tickets to any home game I’d like. I wrestled with feeling guilty or putting it in the “being shrewd” category. I chose the latter. This Sunday was my first home game to lead chapel. It’s the first time in at least two years since I’ve done anything of that nature. I felt surprisingly at ease leading up to it. Meeting the team for the first time was a lot of fun. It felt a little like my days at the university. There were five guys that showed up. We met in the dugout for about 15 min. I shared a thought about faith being the fundamental of our lives, that just like in baseball, without the fundamentals, you’ll miss the point of the game. Pretty short and simple. Players exit to their pre-game rituals. I take a stroll around the park before leaving for home. Reflecting on the experience on the way back, I couldn’t figure out why I was so nonchalant about the whole matter. When I was a professional and would do one of these kinds of engagements and only five guys showed up, I’d be in the tank, but not today. Why was I so free? The thing I concluded was that since ministry is no longer my identity, I am not tempted to attach some kind of personal meaning to the situation. Ministry as a vocation did a number on me, as I tried so often to justify my existence through my performance and the perceived outcome of my job. Ministry as employment may not be for me ever again. Freedom is now the song of my heart. I’d like to keep it that way.

Are you using Me?

As more layers of ministry veneer get peeled back, more and more new messages get revealed for me to decipher. In some ways its like pulling down old wallpaper sheets and finding a few lines penciled on the plaster beneath. They’ve been written for a long time, but now is when they get read. I found this one this morning. Are you using Me? I saw this as I was digging around the question of impact. Seems like we ministry types are always thinking about the next big thing, and where we can have the biggest impact. I would liken it to King David wanting to build the temple. God told him nice idea, but you’re not the one who gets to do it. Did the Father sense that this kind of accomplishment would not be good for David? Was David using the task to feed some ill motive? We’ll never know. And isn’t that the truth about motive? Will we ever know our heart’s true intentions? Will any of us ever have a pure incentive? I’m not trying to be cynical, because this makes grace all the more attractive. Regardless, the Father dishes out grace to all of us in unimaginable ways, all the while knowing our desires better than we know ourselves. The blessing of this uncovered message led me to think about why I want to do ministry in the first place. On the one hand, there is the simple joy of helping others. It’s a satisfying feeling to encourage, uplift, and console. In doing so, you sense you really are the hands and feet of God. You are cooperating with Him. But on the other, there is the side of ministry that gets really dark. It’s the side that feeds the ego. It gives me something to lean on, to talk about. It justifies my existence and makes me feel important. And with these eyes I saw the message this morning. I received the correction and relaxed in the freedom of not feeling like I have to strive to be somebody. Since I don’t work for Jesus anymore, I find my relationship with him on a different plain now. I’m just a volunteer. I don’t work for money or position or even recognition. This is the liberty I was intended to experience.

Changing Careers

We are getting so close to the opening of our restaurant. I can’t help but reflect on how I actually got to this point. Changing careers is not an easy venture, at least not from my vantage point, but I would imagine there are other fortysomethings out there who may be in the same boat as me; finding themselves bored, depressed, frustrated, and just plain stuck. I'm here to say, Change is possible. Some guys tell me they could never do what I have done. They say they aren’t able to turn rudder and chart a new course like me. I was always taught that where there is a will, there is a way, but to be fair, I have been fortunate and my situation in life has offered me a couple of advantages to taking this step. Living modestly. Being a professional minister for 18 years, I didn’t make very much money. Since all the CD’s I produced were given away and not sold, and my 15-book apocalyptic series deal never materialized, and my speaking engagements were always to poor college students, I was limited in what I made, and in turn, in what I could consume. I’d watch my friends move to the nicer end of town and buy new cars and take their kids on ski trips and buy them cell phones, while I stayed put. I spent my share of time grumbling about it, never knowing that what was happening was a development of a lifestyle that would actually help me change later on down the road rather than preventing me from doing so. Living within our means. From the beginning of our marriage, my wife and I learned to live on the modest salary we received. We made a decision to live on one income until our kids were old enough to be in school. We did incur debt from time to time, but it was due to unexpected expenses, not consumption. So when it came time to decide on changing careers, we were not saddled with such extensive debt that would force us to stay plowing the same old rut. My dad always had a saying; "Son, don’t just be thankful for what you’ve got. Be thankful for what you miss out on." Why does it take so long for wisdom to set in? How many years did I focus on what I did not have, only to find that what I did not possess would the very thing that would enable me to launch into this dream?