Moving Beyond the Monochromatic: Why We Need to Listen to the Non-Majority Church

I have a lot of books.

If you were to peruse through them you’d notice a few things. Many, if not most, of them are theological in nature. Having an undergraduate degree in Biblical Studies and a Masters in Theological Studies has allowed for this. You’d probably also a notice some themes are more dominant than others. I have tried to attain and read a smattering of cultural books in an effort to have not only a robust theological mind, but also boots-on-the-ground theological feet. I want to cultivate a Jesus-centered imagination to live out of and my books help me greatly in this. So, I want to be aware of what it is I am purchasing and reading as they inform my head, my heart, and my hands; my interior life and my external practices. For me, this means chewing through a gamut of diverse reading.

You might also notice another dominant pattern amongst my books. Nearly all of them are written my white authors. Not only white people, but, at the very least, middle class, educated ones. When I first began to notice this, it was rather eye-opening.

Why is this so?

Have I intentionally done this?

What does this say about my imagination and life practices?

Perhaps it is due to being a middle class, educated, white, person myself. This is the world I was born into, grew up in, and in many ways, the table I still sit at. It has been the air I have breathed as a product of the Western, post-Enlightenment Protestant tradition. Within this tradition power – ecclesial, civil, cultural, etc. – has been fought for and amassed. Whether explicitly or implicitly, America (and the West in general) has been dominated by a diverse yet hegemonic wave of white, middle to upper class, educated people.

Perhaps it is a publishing issue. Have our publishing houses set the agenda for what we’re reading? Has capitalism influenced what does and doesn’t get put out in public? Is the financial risk in accepting and publishing lesser known voices or voices from (seemingly) powerless places too great? Has money trumped the equivocation of differing voices?

I know there are several factors that go into this.

The Shift Into Post-Christendom

The last several decades have seen a furtherance into, what is now called, post-Christendom. The days where the Church held a central position in society are fleeting, if not gone completely. In my experience, this reality has been given a blind eye and a scoffing laugh by many in the Church. Yet, once you step foot outside of the safety of the encapsulated Christian bubble, this reality smacks you across the face.

In Christendom, Christianity and culture overlapped in many ways and allowed for some interesting postures and practices. For instance, Christendom postured certain tribes within the Church to see their role as conquerors of society. The posture was one of towering over those outside of the Church and thus made for some particular practices. Instead of primarily being question-askers, we were/are “truth”-tellers. Rather than being community-infusers, we were/are builders of exclusive cul-de-sacs. Our tendency was/is to determine legislature over loving our neighbor. In short, we had/have taken a position of power over others and thus gave ourselves the permission to wield this to our own ends. (Note: just because we’ve entered into post-Christendom, the residue of Christendom still lingers, hence the past/present verb tenses.)

And now eyes that were once blind and the laughs that once scoffed have been filled with tears and mourns of woe as the power wanes and we are pushed to the margins of society.

If you ask me, I think it is a good, Spirit-led thing.

The Move to Listening

If there was ever a time when the Church – and, again, the white, educated tribes – needs to develop postures and practices of weakness, it is now. Our marginalized existence is one of liminality, fear, and uncertainty. It is odd to me to see how in the midst of this existence many have sought to blaze their own trails into unknown territory. The cultural earthquakes have begun to loosen the choke hold many of us have on influence and celebrity. Yet we fool ourselves into thinking the same postures and practices that got us here, will somehow move us forward. Our self-inflicted ecclesial isolation continues to be pervasive.

Marginal life within post-Christendom has some particular manifestations. Here are some key ones where I (and by extension, we) need to listen to our non-majority brothers and sister:

Bi-vocational Leadership

As the pool of Christians continues to dry up, so does the financial wherewithal for full-time leadership. Churches – again, that are predominantly, white/majority – that once were able to pay one or more full-time clergy/staff are now finding themselves incapable of continuing to do so. In my role within Northeastern Seminary, I have had multiple, multiple conversations where pastors are facing the dilemma of keeping the bank accounts at a level where they can receive full time pay. The problem comes to a head when they realize they don’t have either the academic degree or the necessary skills for any other work outside of a church.

Conversely, I don’t know how many conversations I have had with non-majority ecclesial leaders for whom bi-vocational life has been just that: life. They haven’t had the resources, financial allotments, or open doors. Full-time pay has only come at the taking on of a second or third job, while full-time leadership might still be needed. I have spoken with prison chaplains, construction workers, grocery store sushi-makers, public school counselors, and a host of others who double as church leaders. Over and over again I have heard the following from their lips: “This is life. This has been life for our people for quite some time.” We must attune our ears to listen to them as they are our teachers.

Meeting in Homes

A corollary to this lack of funds is the lack of buildings. Mortgages, upkeep, renovations: all take money and resources and when they aren’t available, they can’t be done. So, meeting in houses is a necessity. Having met in houses for 3+ years, believe me, it isn’t easy. It is messy, complicated, chaotic, and noisy.

Many times, the temptation is to revert to finding a building regardless of financial sustainability. Traditional Christendom thought urges us to find a building quickly in an effort to legitimize the church. However, I have seen that the finding of a building can consume the energy and imagination of the community resulting in a detriment to the cultivating of the actual community. We have lost sight of the true nature of the church as the people of God, not the building of God.

From my experience, the non-majority Jesus-communities I have come across have held tightly to the realities of church as family. What can learn from their experience of meeting in noisy, chaotic, inconvenient homes? We must attune our ears to listen to them as they are our teachers.

Unity in Diversity

One of the most inspiring things I have come across is predominantly, but not solely, found in the immigrant church. Here in Syracuse we have a large community of Burmese refugees. Like many countries, Burma is comprised of many differing cultures and tribes. Some live peacefully with each other; many have historic rifts between them, many plagued by violence.

I was humbled when I recently met with a few local pastors, one of them a pastor of one of the local Burmese churches. One of the vital aspects of his church is their unity in diversity. They are a community of Jesus-followers where their identity in Jesus has trumped their warring tribal ones. My friend – who is a white pastor – said this Burmese church is a witness to its fellow refugee churches because of its unity. Yes, but beyond that they are a witness to THE CHURCH. In a world where we shame, reject, and demonize other Jesus-followers for their worship styles, preferred Bible translations, and church signage, the immigrant church is a beacon of communal light in a world on dark divisiveness. We must attune our ears to listen to them as they are our teachers.

From here…

The world is ever-changing. Many are pointing out the effects of this transition period and how we might move into the future. For the church in the West, it is high time we grapple with the fact that the “average” Christian is an African woman. As we wrestle with this fluctuation, I plead with you (and myself) to begin to cultivate postures and practices of weakness for the sake of the kingdom and the mission of God.

Take time to listen.

Take time to know.

When we don’t listen, we assume, and in doing so, expose our propensity to use power over others.

Life In Liminal Land

It has been an interesting past 7 or so months.

• We “closed the doors” of our church plant, Common Table. (Aside: doesn’t that saying give away our dominant metaphor of seeing the church as a building?)

• We had our third daughter.

• We jumped into another local church plant with some of our friends from Common Table.

• We put our house up for sale.

Ever since these things began to occur, we had a sense of calm as we’ve entered into a season of rest. In many ways, it has felt like a sabbatical as we haven’t had to plan, organize, teach, etc. However, it has also been a bit unsettling, especially at the beginning of this period. As such, it has become rather confusing and tended to make us feel uncertain.

These are hallmarks of what has come to be known as liminal space. Liminality carries the idea of entering into an in-between period; a time when the old ways of doing things has come to an end and new ones are emerging. The word is derived from the Latin limen which means “threshold.” In anthropological terms, it refers to standing at the threshold of a new time due to an initiation or rite of passage, yet still maintaining our place on the threshold. In other words, it is a middle state between changes – politically, religiously, ritually, economically, etc. – in which we have an eye on the past but an ear to the future.

Having sensed this reality for the Church in the West for some time now, we have been engaging in cultivating ecclesial practices that attempt to stay true to the tradition handed down to us while creatively moving into the future. The challenge of harmonizing innovation and tradition with humility and hospitality is daunting yet necessary. Doing this on a personal level, however, has (somewhat surprisingly) been disorienting.

The questions that have come along with this uncertainty and confusion have primarily revolved around the selling of our house. From there, they have naturally lead to levels of second and third results and furthering questions. What happens if we don’t sell the house? Perhaps, more importantly, what happens if we do sell the house? Should I stay in my current job? Is now the time to pursue more education? If so, should it be a PhD in theology or another Masters, this time in Education? If we stay 30 minutes away from our larger Jesus-community, how does proximity play into community? The list goes on.

In the midst of life in liminal land I have  noticed a few recurring thoughts and have been given a few through my friend Andrew.

Life in liminal land has the potential to freeze us in our tracks. Doubt, confusion, and uncertainty are potent. They have the strength to pull us out of being aware of what is happening around us. Together they redirect our attention, thoughts, and ultimately our actions to the future ahead of us. As Andrew has said, they form a concoction where we merely exist in life instead of living life. I have seen this play out in varying degrees over the past several months. Rather than being attentive to the people and places we live our life with and in, we bypass them for the unknown future ahead of us. Neighbors, co-workers, and friends become shadows of themselves as we overlook and neglect those among us for what lies on the horizon. We need to be self-aware and cognizant of this propensity.

Life in liminal land can give us permission to rip the beauty out of the short-lived. Here in America, we have been taught, whether explicitly or not, to be utilitarians. Usage of things is what they are for. People, neighborhoods, jobs: we suck the life out of them for our own maximized gain. Combine this with consumerism and individualism and we have a cocktail of misuse and abuse where neglect, power-wielding, and brokenness are left in their wake. In short, we are formed to see things as our own personal tools made for our personal gain; beauty is a bygone characteristic.

Moreover, we favor the short-lived, making it our main mode of existence and thus become blind to its beauty. It is like telling a fish to identify the water it is swimming in: we have become so accustomed to the short-lived and rootless that it has become the water we unconsciously swim in. To continue the water imagery, rather than diving in to our present situation, we get out of the water by isolating ourselves from our places and people. Presence and availability wane: two of the vital structures of community.

What I have been learning in our liminality is the beauty of change. I have been given fresh eyes to the beauty of our particular neighborhood. Now is the time of year when mayflies come out, followed by the annual return of the swallows. Their aerial dance reminds me of the grandeur of our shared ecosystem and interconnectivity. Neighbors begin to emerge from our long winter, changed from the months of snow and cold. Internally, the process of liminality has opened up areas of my own life that would have continued to hide in the dark. All in all, liminality offers me (and you) a chance to see the beauty of the ordinary in which we swim as move towards the future.

Life in liminal land reveals the interdependency of life. One of the main areas this time has revealed from its hiding is the reality of the interdependent life. The numbing effect of the everyday can fool us into thinking we are living life as independent beings. We lose sight of our interdependence and interconnectivity to the ecosystem we are a part of as we roll through the rhythms of the ordinary. Unconsciously, we assume we are autonomous beings without need of community found in God, neighborhood, and creation.

This becomes obvious to me when decision making becomes a solo act. Within the familiarity of my regular days, weeks, and months I see no need to confer with friends and family because I assume the ordinariness of everything will continue.

I’d rather remain in the presumed safety of my own decision-making than move into the messiness of communal life.

Yet in this in-between time (and, obviously, it should be all the time) I’m much more aware of my limits and the need for question asking, wisdom seeking, and conversation engaging. This manifests itself in prayer, chatting over coffee, and late night talks with my wife. Discussion and dialogue in community gives clarity as I begin to see that I’m not alone in this liminal life, but that we all share in limitations. My eyes and heart become more open to our need for each other and how God weaves us together and how this liminality actually forges community.

In the midst of life in liminal land, my main prayer is that I will stay attuned to the work of Jesus in me and through me for the sake of others. I pray I will not run away from it, but allow this time to do its work. Of one thing I am sure: I must remain present within this liminality so it can do its Spirit-filled work.

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So, how about you? What have you noticed about life in liminal land? How have uncertainty and confusion contributed to your life? In what ways has the regularity of liminality built community?

Living Life Together: Commitment & Baby Pictures

A good friend and I were chatting the other day about the difficulty of discipleship and mission here in the Northeast, and in particular, here in Syracuse. In a culture steeped in and characterized as post-Christian, we have found many factors impeding the deepening and broadening of Jesus’ movement. We both strongly believe in the necessity of the Church returning to square one in her efforts. This means many things, but at its core, it means a return to Jesus’ intentions for community, mission, and incarnation.

One factor has consistently reared its head: commitment. Try as we might to disciple people into community and mission via incarnation, without commitment, things will unravel rather quickly. This might seem like an understood factor, but the reality is many people practice pseudo-commitment. When things get messy, when their romanticized illusions blow up, when the new and shiny appears on the horizon, many peoples’ “commitment” fades.

We have become a culture known for its commitment-breaking rather than its commitment-keeping.

Most, if not all, of this rests upon our consumer mindsets, practices and their resulting identities. As John McKnight and Peter Block state in The Abundant Community, “Consumer society begins at the moment when what was once the province or function of the family and community migrates to the marketplace. It begins with the decision to purchase what might have been homemade or neighborhood produced.” Once we yield to this way of life, we begin to filter our practices through the lens of consumerism. In this shift, our commitment moves from the family and neighborhood (community) to the self and its wants.

Furthermore, this mindset – and again, its identity forming practices – is founded upon detachment. One would assume consumerism’s main goal would be attaching buyers to objects. This is its lure. We think we need purchasable objects and once we have them we will stay attached to them. The truth lies in consumerism’s “counterfeit nature” which is built upon an inherent sense of detachment. It has to be, otherwise we could not go out and continue to consume. McKnight and Block quip, “The marketplace in this way promises what it knows will not be fulfilling.”

With this in mind, it should come as no surprise when we find the difficulty of commitment to incarnation. In a world of pseudo-commitment, it is much easier to tether ourselves to excarnational realities. I have heard many people say they have community on Facebook, Twitter, or other social media. Or people rally around an ideology or social issue. Again, as McKnight and Block state, within a consumer culture, we form communities around and with those who are able to purchase like us. The same is true here: we form communities – and stay committed to them – as long as they aren’t demanding, differ from their original intentions, or are full of people who share a similar affinity.

In other words, we tend to give our commitment to things which are void of actual responsibility and relationship.

Enter the baby pictures:

I love these pictures. The children in them are the two sons of friends and our daughter in the middle. The first picture is of them all soon after their births; they all were born within 3 weeks of each other. The second was taken a few weeks ago, as they all are preparing to be (or already are) 2 years old.

To me this is much more than a picture. It is much more than a group of beautiful children. It is a picture of commitment. These babies represent the families they are a part of; families who stuck it out over the past several years of community building, church planting, and church collapsing. They are the embodiment of what it means to tether together when it doesn’t make sense or when things get difficult. They are the symbols of birthday parties, dedications, hundreds of dinners, tears, laughter, and everything else in between. In a very real way, they are indicative of commitment, or as Christine Pohl describes, the “internal framework for every relationship and every community.” Their smiling faces are afforded by the trust between us all as we venture together into the future as friends turned family.

I love Peter Block’s words regarding commitment:

Commitment is a promise made with no expectation of return. It is the willingness to make a promise independent of either approval or reciprocity from other people. This takes barter out of the conversation. Our promise is not contingent on the actions of others. The economist is replaced by the artist. As long as our promise is dependent upon the actions of others, it is not a commitment; it is a deal, a contract…Commitment comes dressed as a promise.

I’m not saying everything has been perfect or without trouble. (You did see me mention “church collapse,” right?) Yet, there has been an intentional decision to incrementally push through our addictions to consumerism and to stick with mutual commitment. It has been this intentional mutuality that has allowed us to take pictures like the ones above and certainly many more to come.

If you are wondering about commitment and what it means, I’ll leave you with these questions from Peter Block’s wonderful book Community: The Structure of Belonging. Bring them to your community and have a conversation. See what happens. Talk, and if you want to truly ground the conversation, write things down and come back to them in 6 months.

What promises am I willing to make?

What measures have meaning to me?

What price am I willing to pay?

What is the cost to others for me to keep my commitments, or to fail in my commitments?

What is the promise I’m willing to make that constitutes a risk or major shift for me?

What is the promise I am postponing?

What is the promise or commitment I am unwilling to make?

 

 

The Difficult Place of Those Who Are Weaker – Jean Vanier: Day 27 of Lent

These are some wise, wise words from Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche Communities. As one who has worked with the less-abled for quite some time now, his insights into community have been invaluable. I strongly believe the following: those with disabilities have become a hidden population within our society and the Church has followed suit. In many ways, we have assumed influence comes from education and personal enlightenment. We have built communities where the voices, lives, and beauty of those who are seen as weak or are less-abled get relegated to our ministry life, but not our communal life. You are fine as the one we reach out to, but not as the ones we hold on to. Many factors go into this, but overall, in my experience, this has rung true. Vanier seems to agree.

The following extended quote is from his book Becoming Human, one of the books I am currently reading during Lent. If you are at all interested in community and belonging, this is a must read.

Those who are weak have great difficulty finding their place in society. The image of the ideal human as powerful and capable disenfranchises the old, the sick, the less-abled. For me, society must, by definition, be inclusive of the needs and gifts of all its members; how can we lay claim to making an open and friendly society where human rights are respected and fostered when, by the values we teach and foster, we systematically exclude segments of our population?

I also believe that those we most often exclude from the normal life of society, people with disabilities, have profound lessons to teach us. When we do include them, they add richly to our lives and add immensely to our world.

Our society is geared to growth, development, progress. Life, for most of us, is a race to be won. Families are about evolution: at a certain stage, children are encouraged to leave home, get married, have children of their own, move on in their lives. But people with disabilities have no such future. Once they have reached a certain level of development, they are no longer expected or encouraged to progress. There is no ‘promotion’ for the disabled and what forward movement there is seems frequently to be either erratic or cruelly sped up: many move quite quickly from childhood to adulthood without passing through a period of adolescence; others age quickly. Our society is not set up to cope very well with people who are weaker or slower. More important, we are not skilled at listening to the wisdom of those whose life patterns are outside of the social norm.

There is a lack of synchronicity between our society and people with disabilities. A society that honours only the powerful, the clever, and the winners necessarily belittles the weak. It is as if to say: to be human is to be powerful.

Those who see the heart only as a place of weakness will be fearful of their own hearts. For them, the heart is a place of pain and anguish, of chaos and of transitory emotions. So they reject those who live essentially by their hearts, who cannot develop the same intellectual and rational capacities of others. People with intellectual abilities are excluded; it was never intended that they be included as equal partners with the powerful, you and me…We human beings have a great facility for living illusions, for protecting our self-image with power, for justifying it all by thinking we are the favoured ones of God.

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Other posts in this Lent series:

Moving Beyond Immediate (and) Affirmation or Why I Will Be Blogging Through Lent

“Divine Sorrow” and Remembering: Ash Wednesday

Longings, Presence, and Vulnerability: Day 2 of Lent

Being Led by the Gentle Voice of God: A Notebook and 3 Questions: Day 3 of Lent

Lent Around the Blogosphere: 10 Links: Day 4 of Lent

First Sunday of Lent: A Prayer

Psalm 91 and Cliche: Day 5 of Lent

Community and Prayer: Henri Nouwen on Pushing Through Individualism Via Communal Prayer: Day 6 of Lent

Humility, Place, and The Everyday: Lessons in Mission From John the Baptizer: Day 7 of Lent

Lenten Reflection and Fasting According to Joan Chittister: Day 8 of Lent

Jean Vanier’s “Seven Aspects of Love”: Day 11 of Lent

Second Sunday of Lent: A Prayer

Suffering and Lent: Words from Joan Chittister: Day 14 of Lent

Third Sunday of Lent: A Prayer

Loneliness: Day 20 of Lent

Fourth Sunday of Lent: A Prayer

If Lent Had a Theme Song…

Jean Vanier’s “Seven Aspects of Love”: Day 11 of Lent

One of the books I have been reading during Lent is Jean Vanier’s Becoming Human. As I shared here, I have worked with special needs students for the past 7+ years and have learned much more than I have taught. The marginalized, the overlooked, and the oft-neglected are those whom Vanier has dedicated his life to and has lived with and among. He has learned and written about this shared life and its resulting wisdom.

The first chapter of this book deals with the universal condition of loneliness. He begins with, “This book is about the liberation of the human heart from the tentacles of chaos and loneliness, and from those fears that provoke us to exclude and reject others.” Vanier describes loneliness as “a taste of death” that is “essentially a human experience.”

It is not just about being alone. Loneliness is not the same thing as solitude. We can be alone yet happy, because we know that we are part of a family, a community, even the universe itself. Loneliness is a feeling of not being part of anything, of being cut off. It is a feeling of being unworthy, of not being able to cope in the face of a universe that seems to work against us.

It is a feeling of being unloved and, as a result, unloveable.

Vanier has found love to be the antidote to loneliness. And love occurs, grows, and flourishes in community.

“There are for me, seven aspects of love that seem necessary for the transformation of the heart in those who are profoundly lonely.” These aspects are extremely helpful in opening up the layers within love and hence community. Here they are:

To Reveal

The first aspect of love, the key aspect, is revelation…To reveal someone’s beauty is to reveal their value by giving them time, attention, and tenderness. To love is not just to do something for them but to reveal to them their own uniqueness, to tell them that they are special and worthy of attention…As soon as we start selecting and judging people instead of welcoming them as they are – with their sometimes hidden beauty, as well as their more frequently visible weaknesses – are reducing life, not fostering it. When we reveal to people our belief in them, their hidden beauty rises to the surface where it may be more clearly seen by all.

To Understand

To love also means to understand…I believe that every act of violence [which stems from loneliness] is also a message that needs to be understood. Violence should  not be answered just by greater violence but by real understanding. We must ask: where is the violence coming from? What is its meaning?

To Communicate

Communication is at the heart of love…I have learned that the process of teaching and learning, of communication, involves movement, back and forth: the one who is healed and the one who is healing constantly change places. As we begin to understand ourselves, we begin to understand others. It is a part of the process of moving from idealism to reality, from the sky to the earth…We must learn to listen and then to communicate.

To Celebrate

It is not enough to reveal to people their value, to understand and care for them. To love people is to celebrate them…they need laughter and play, they need people who will celebrate life with them and manifest their joy of being with them.

To Empower

It is not just a question of doing things for others but of helping them to do things for themselves, helping them to discover the meaning of their lives…not to make people…’normal,’ but to help them grow towards maturity. For each person…growth towards maturity will be different.

To Be In Communion

Communion is mutual trust, mutual belonging; it is then to-and-fro movement of love between two people where each one gives and each one receives. Communion is not a fixed state, it is an ever-growing and deepening reality that can turn sour if one person tries to possess the other, thus preventing growth. Communion is mutual vulnerability and openness to the other. It is liberation for both, indeed, where both are allowed to be themselves, where both are called to grow in greater freedom and openness to others and to the universe.

To a certain extent we lose control in our lives when we are open to others. Communion of hearts is a beautiful but also dangerous thing. Beautiful because it is a new form of liberation; it brings a new joy because we are no longer alone. We are close even if we are far away. Dangerous because letting down our inner barriers means that we can be easily hurt. Communion makes us vulnerable.

God is present in this liberating communion.

To Forgive

The most crucial of all in our equation…is forgiveness. The bonding between people in communion implies that we forgive each other and that we ask each other for forgiveness…As we live and work and pray together, we build a new form of family.

Which aspect of love touches you the most?

Which aspect of love are you longing for the most?

How have you found these seven aspects in community?

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Other posts in this Lent series:

Moving Beyond Immediate (and) Affirmation or Why I Will Be Blogging Through Lent

“Divine Sorrow” and Remembering: Ash Wednesday

Longings, Presence, and Vulnerability: Day 2 of Lent

Being Led by the Gentle Voice of God: A Notebook and 3 Questions: Day 3 of Lent

Lent Around the Blogosphere: 10 Links: Day 4 of Lent

First Sunday of Lent: A Prayer

Psalm 91 and Cliche: Day 5 of Lent

Community and Prayer: Henri Nouwen on Pushing Through Individualism Via Communal Prayer: Day 6 of Lent

Humility, Place, and The Everyday: Lessons in Mission From John the Baptizer: Day 7 of Lent

Lenten Reflection and Fasting According to Joan Chittister: Day 8 of Lent

The Awakening of Hope: Why We Practice a Common Faith by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove – A Review

Ancient.

Tradition.

Monastic.

These are words most of us in our postmodern, post-Christian, post-everything society do not want to entertain. Frankly, we’d all rather focus on, well, that which entertains. Many of us do. And, unfortunately, many churches do as well.

This is why I am thankful for Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove. His works remind us of our handed-down-ness. We haven’t made up Christianity and the church. It has been handed down to us as a gift for us to receive. The cultural winds that blow and swirl around us are always tempered by the rootedness of our faith.

The good news is that God has already given us all that we need to enjoy the life we were made for in Jesus Christ. For every new sign of hope, there is ancient wisdom to help us interpret how a new thing can be rooted in God’s old, old story. For every fresh wind, there is a rudder to lead us on toward the beloved community of God’s kingdom here on earth as it is in heaven.

With this wisdom in mind, Wilson-Hartgrove takes us on a journey through his unconventional catechism. Rather than beginning with orthodoxy (beliefs), he aims at orthopraxy (practices) through asking a series of “Why?” questions. His hope is that through this trail of questions and embodied practices, we might reengage with the ancient story and “inspire hope in our time and ask what convictions undergird a way of life that makes such witness possible.” As he states, “This is a book about why. Why do people who follow Jesus do the things we do?”. The result is that the dividing wall between belief and practice will begin to crumble as we see orthodoxy and orthopraxy as one and the same: true belief is true practice.

The chapters flow from essential thought-provoking question to essential thought-provoking question. They are the following:

• Why We Eat Together
• Why We Fast
• Why We Make Promises
• Why it Matters Where We Live
• Why We Live Together
• Why We Would Rather Die Than Kill
• Why We Share Good News

Each of these questions gets examined in real life. This book is not an idealistic utopian vision. Rather, it is a picture of the hope emanating from actual communities living actual life together.

It is messy.

It is difficult.

And yet it is hopeful.

It is hopeful because the accounts given take us beyond merely showing up on a Sunday morning. Notice: none of the questions dealt with have anything to do with our behaviors on Sunday mornings. At least not directly. What Wilson-Hartgrove is doing is bringing our attention to our collective life as the people of God and what it is that the Church has been doing since the time of Jesus. Is there a purpose behind this? What is he trying to point out to us? I’ll leave that to you once you read it.

It is also an “awakening of hope” due the very fact that these practices are actually being practiced by real people. For those of us who have wandered and wondered if there is truly more out there, this book opens up the imagination in a way that says, “You too can do this.” And, further, “You can do this with others. You were made to do this with others.” This is not another example of an individualistic pietism. It is subtitled “Why We Practice a Common Faith” because our faith is a community-creating one in which we share things in common. We are disciples who live under common disciplines.

Overall, I recommend this book to those seeking an embodied spirituality and faith, both those who have been within the Church for some time and those who haven’t or aren’t. The story out of which these practices flow is found on every page illuminating us of what and who it is that push us into these communal realities. The chapter “Why We Would Rather Die Than Kill” was especially poignant, challenging, and yet encouraging for me as I’ve grown up in the conservative Christian realm where being pro-life is a prerequisite, but a consistent ethic of non-violence is often an afterthought. Filtering his position through the resurrection of Jesus, he wonders if Jesus didn’t inaugurate a new way of life that dethrones violence as the answer. Did not Jesus image “a God who would rather die in love than guarantee justice by the threat of violence”? Tough questions with implications worth wrestling with.

The book didn’t come by itself. It’s partner is a series of videos brilliantly done by The Work of the People. Their work always results in a broadening and deepening of the imagination through both content and visual beauty. It is no different with the people and stories presented in this DVD. You will hear from ordinary people being and doing extraordinary things alongside others in the messiness of regular life. If you are tempted to get the book alone, do not. The DVD and book intertwine and bring out subtle yet profound aspects that each by itself cannot.

Get this book and video. Gather with others and engage with their material. Experiment with the practices. Embody them. I pray you find your community awakening hope.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the author and/or publisher through the Speakeasy blogging book review network. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR,Part 255.

Life With and Among the Marginalized: Wisdom from Jean Vanier

For more than the past seven years I have worked with students with special needs. When I moved home after college with a Biblical Studies degree in hand, there weren’t many jobs looking for someone with my background. My brother informed me of the summer program he was working in and so I too began working with him as a Special Education Teaching Assistant. It was a challenging time, yet rewarding, as I began to have my eyes opened to what I would later learn is an extremely hidden and marginalized population.

As soon as summer school was over, I began working for my local school district as a Special Education TA and have been employed by them ever since. Within this time, I have worked with all ages from kindergarten to adults of 21 years old. I have worked with students who have learning disabilities and require a little help reading to non-verbal, wheel-chair bound students who are unable to do anything for themselves (eating, toileting) and can be dangerously violent. I have worked with students all along this spectrum, many of whom have rarely been seen by the public eye. And it isn’t just these individual students that are hidden, but the families and other support structures that are behind them.

Along the way, I was blessed to attend seminary and complete a Masters in Theological Studies. Combining the life experience I was receiving at the hands of the hidden and marginalized with the holistic change in thought and action that was being cultivated in seminary, I began to sense something was amiss in the Church’s relation to those with special needs.

I firmly believe people living with – what are commonly known as – “disabilities” are the most neglected group within the Church. This was recently brought up at most recent Emergence Christianity event with Phyllis Tickle and reflected upon by Julie Clawson. There are a few resources out there regarding Christian life and witness and the beautiful-yet-hidden humans I’ve worked with. I don’t say this as to induce guilt. Rather, I’d like to ask questions and raise awareness of what our current situation actually looks like.

I have learned the most from the founder of L’Arche: Jean Vanier. L’Arche is “an international network of communities for people with intellectual disabilities.” It is not just another home of seclusion for these people. No, it is a community where, in the words of Vanier himself, “We live together – those with disabilities and those who wish to have a deep and sometimes lasting relationship with them. We laugh and cry and sometimes fight with one another; we work, we celebrate life, and we pray together.” And in this way the giving of life does not flow in one direction, as would be normally thought, from person without disability to the one with. (To be honest, this is a horribly anemic way of seeing each other. We all have disabilities, some are just more visually identifiable than others.) Instead the learning of life and love is reciprocal as one develops the eyes and ears to see the life and love emanating from those we normally would deem life and loveless. This has been a lesson I have had to learn over and over.

I plan on writing more from this space of learning from those deemed weak and insignificant. Jesus has quite a bit to say about this reality and thankfully I have come across Vanier and his rooted wisdom from actual life. Before I write about the lessons I have been graced with, I beg you to watch these short videos.

Watch them. Listen to Vanier. Reflect upon what he is saying and the community he is saying them out of. He is a light.

Church as Family: A Reflection on Christmas Week Part 1

One of the major questions facing Christianity in the West within our current post-Christendom context is, “What is the Church?” As we are continually pushed to the margins of society the question many of us are asking revolves around the nature and reality of this community called the Church. This question has been in my mind for awhile now and reflecting on my family’s Christmas had it bouncing around both my head and my heart.

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This past Christmas was a rather hectic, yet great, time. My wife, three daughters, and I traveled to the perennially sought after Christmas vacation spot: Cleveland, Ohio. It is my wife’s hometown and is where a good majority of her family still lives.

We always stay with my mother-in-law in her 1 level, 1100 square foot ranch in the ‘burbs of Cleveland. Ever since my wife and I began dating, which is about 10 years ago now, this house has served as our lodging when in town. While we were recently there, we reminisced about the days when we’d show up without any children and actually sleep. And then we’d see friends without any children and stay out late. Now we all have children, don’t sleep, and don’t stay out late. Quite a bit has changed.

The majority of our week was spent with the entirety of my wife’s siblings and their burgeoning families. Nearly every day was spent was with a total of 21 people in my mother-in-law’s house: 9 adults, 12 children from the ages of 2 months to 13 years old. Needless to say, we could have easily turned the heat off and had plenty of heat to spare. The night of Christmas we took our large cohort to my wife’s uncle’s house where we joined in the extended family’s Christmas party. 45-50 people in all ate, played, and laughed at the White Elephant gift exchange.

Brother, sisters, wives, husbands, aunt, uncles, cousins, moms and dads. All under one roof experiencing the joy and difficulties of an extended stay with and among each other as an extended family. Maybe you had a similar experience.

“This is what church should be like” echoed over and over in my soul. “This is what we were made for.”

Here are 4 areas I was reminded of as to why it is imperative for the Church to remember our identity as family:

1. Within family, the individual “me” and “my” find their proper place within the communal “us” and “our.“

Our society has been characterized as one with deep individualistic tendencies. Nearly everything we do – including our faith decisions – has the potential of being done with only the self in mind because of the individualistic trajectory we have been put. Our fright of institutions becomes (somewhat) alleviated through the manipulative twist of seeing what we can get out of said institution, rather than what we bring to the table. The suiting of my needs trumps all else.

I was reminded over Christmas that me and my family only make sense within the family we find ourselves a part of. The “me” and the “my” find their proper place within the communal “us” and “our.” My children are not solely mine. Within the family community, they are my sister-in-law’s nieces, my mother-in-law’s granddaughters, my nephews’ cousin. They are suddenly “ours” as we love them together and seek their flourishing. We are all responsible as we journey through life together.

And this goes both ways. My brother-in-law’s kids are suddenly within my domain of responsible love as well. The decisions I would normally consider to be just mine and only effect me, now become decisions that effect us all. If I constantly decide to angrily respond to my daughter, it takes a toll on my niece who overheard me time and time again. The interconnectedness of relational life smacks us in the face in family.

The same goes for my possessions. While together, my older sister-in-law gave us a few garbage bags full of clothes. They were at one time her daughters’ clothes, but they were now ours. And by “ours” I don’t mean “my wife and I.” In a real way, they are now ours, meaning the family’s and those we will pass them onto someday. More likely than not, this will mean my wife’s younger sister who has a daughter younger than our girls. In family, the consumeristic drive is more easily set aside as we think beyond ourselves and unto others we share life with. We aren’t primarily consumers, we are co-laborers.

2. Within family, life emerges in the beautiful tension between the organic and the organized.

Some of the best times we had took place in impromptu conversations, card games, and quick trips out to the store. Some of the best times we had took place in scheduled times of gift giving, meals, and larger gatherings. In my experience, there have been those who have sought after the purely “organic” experience, thinking that life happens (nearly) exclusively in times of unscheduled happenstance. Others have attempted to painstakingly arrange their lives in ways that there is no margin for anything other than the “organized” to occur.

Yet, life seems to emerge in the tension between the two. Even the plant needs the tressel and the body needs the skeleton. The gentle weaving of the two allowed us to engage each other in ways that bring out particular things. In more formal, organized times we were able to cook and eat together in ways that only my wife’s side of the family can. My brother-in-law cooked much of the Christmas dinner in a way he learned from my (former chef) father-in-law. Watching him gave us the opportunity to ask questions and listen in ways that wouldn’t happen while shoveling the driveway. Interspersed within these times were the laughs, jokes, and remembrances that continued to join our hearts together. And this is what family does: forms a life of shared love.

3. Within family, the fruit of slow, patient, rootedness is easily seen.

One of the commonly unseen or unrecognized essentials of family is time. We don’t often think about it because it is commonly such a given that it passes right in front of us. I know I rarely ponder the past 30 years of my life being spent within my family and yet I have spent the total of this time among them.

It has been this slow, unrecognized rootedness within my family of origin and the past 10 or so years within my wife’s family that I have seen growth and fruit. It is only that which we stick with and tie ourselves to that we see grow. This is a constant complaint from many: they don’t see the “return” on “investment” with people. I have seen this to be true primarily with those who haven’t made the sacrificial or intentional decisions to stay with others. And, again, family reminds of this as we see how everyone grows throughout the years. My nieces and nephews who were wild toddlers are now tweens who lovingly help with our toddlers.

Time with each other is an intentional choice made for the sake of community.

4. Within family, the covenantal nature of the world overcomes its contractual counterpart.

Ours is a world desperately trying to present itself as primarily contractual in nature instead the reality of it being covenantal.

If time is one side of the coin, the other is commitment. It is what keeps us in the long haul over time. Undergirding commitment is the potency of our promise-making and keeping. It doesn’t take very much living of life in our current society to see the anemic condition of promises and the ill effects of their breaking. Every society and community throughout history has been tied together through the making and subsequent keeping of promises.

It is the covenanting of two or more separate people together and then maintaining those vows that allows for families and other communities to perpetuate. Promises flow in both directions as all involved give up something from themselves for the betterment and continuation of the community. Combined with the long range, big picture of needed time, commitment and promise-making are the cement of family and community.

Christine Pohl differentiates between covenantal and contractual relationships in her book Living Into Community:

When we think covenantally about promises, we tend to locate our promises in a larger story and in mutual accountability. Covenantal understandings of promising reflect a set of shared commitments and rarely have exit clauses. Contracts, on the other hand, deliberately define the relationship narrowly, and, once obligations are fulfilled, the exchange is complete – it’s finished. In covenantal settings, relationships are extended and deepened. Covenants tend to be comprehensive and vulnerable in ways that contracts are not.

When we find our identity through the lens of consumerism, we are extremely prone to see relationships as contractual. We get what we need out of them or they are over. When tough times come and disagreements abound, our contractual mindset often overrides the covenantal realities of life and we easily move on. This is true not only in dating/marital relationships, but in many, many other areas of life, unfortunately, including issues of faith and faith communities.

Sitting with my family brought up the power of promises and covenant. Seeing through difficult patches, battling addictions from yesteryear, and worry about what the effects the present will have on the future are present in my family as they are in everyone’s. I am beyond thankful for the continuing, abiding commitment present within this group of people.

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This has been a reflection on the Church and family. In my next post I’ll give a more theological and biblical look at how Jesus started a community which he envisioned as family and how we can begin to recapture that today. Moreover, I’ll wrestle with the 4 points above and the Church’s expression of each of them.

Until then…

When you think of “church”, what is the primary metaphor you use? Church is ________.

In what ways to wish church could be more like family?

The community Jesus centered around him was to be family. How does this hit you?

Who Will You Grow Old With? – Not a Question About Marriage

This past week my wife and I took off for Ohio with all three of our beautiful daughters. Typically, the trip from Syracuse to Cleveland takes about five and a half hours. That, of course, is without three children under the age of 4. Due to the children – and my need for coffee – we tend to stop and take our time, letting the kids stretch and run around for a bit. This trip we stopped at a Panera in Erie, PA for an hour or so.

One of the things my wife and I both love to engage in – whether consciously or not – is, what is normally deemed, people-watching. Across from us sat an older couple with another older woman all of whom were dressed nicely in the best Sunday religious garb. Chatting about the Sunday service and the screaming baby of an obvious visitor topped the list of topics for this midday.

Soon another older couple joined them and the older woman’s husband came in as well. As is the norm, they were blatantly taking in the scene across from them, namely, my wife and our three daughters. The age difference was great enough that we could have been their children for the day, our children their temporarily adopted grandchildren. And as the one woman asked if she could buy our older girls some cookies, we quickly became just that.

But then something struck me. As I sat there with my wife of 6 years and my three children, I began to wonder about this questions: Who will I grow old with? The people surrounding me was the obvious answer, but then as I continued to gaze at these friends, it became clear they had spent a good amount of years together. Beyond their marital vows and relationships, this group seemed to know each other well; they seemed to have the type of knowing that comes from laughing and weeping, from eating simple meals at each others’ homes and fancied up ones at their children’s weddings, from deaths in the family to new babies being born. Of course this could all be in my imagination, but like a Normal Rockwell painting, I felt like their simple meal together filled with familiarity was speaking volumes.

Once back in the car, I asked my wife who she thought we’d grow old with besides ourselves. In our neo-nomadic lifestyles of 21st century America, the odds of growing old with neighbors, friends, and, unfortunately, even family are growing worse and worse. Searching for a better house, a better church, a better job, a better climate, etc. seem to be the carrot in front of the horse of modern citizens of the West. The story of easy mobilization combined with individualism and consumerism has continually crashed over us rendering us frightened of things such as stability and rootedness. It is difficult to grow old with those we move away from.

Perhaps it is from the reading I’ve been doing. Perhaps it is from the community I’ve been attempting to cultivate. Perhaps it is from seeing pictures of my friends and family from yesteryear. Perhaps it was a simple contrast of a table of older friends with my younger family. But I wonder, what do we need to do to have a community that grows old together? What intentional decisions and sacrifices need to be made to move towards that end?

As we continued to talk and drive with our lovely ladies in tow, I continued (and still continue) to wonder about encounter that had just taken place. Perhaps it was a road trip version of lighting the fourth Advent candle of love and anticipation. Whatever the case may be, I want to run with this experience and its implications and see where the Spirit may be leading and waiting.

What about you? Who will you grow old with?

The Well-Being of Children

‘It takes a village to raise a child’ is an African saying repeated as a matter of faith by American leaders of all persuasions. And yet, most of our children are not raised by a village. Instead, they are rasied by teachers and counselors at school, youth workers and coaches out of school, juvenile therapists and corrections officials if they are deviant, television and computers and cell phones if they have spare time, and McDonald’s if they are hungry.

Instead of a village, they are surrounded by paid professionals, electronic toys, and teen marketers. They are being trained to be comprehensive consumers and clients. And as they become young adults, the research demonstrates that they are much less socially connected than their grandparents were at their age. They are, as adults, more isolated and dependent on money to pave their way to the future. Recession would devastate them, unsupported by friends, neighbors, and community groups who can provide a social safety net.

Until the twentieth century, every society in all of history raised its children in villages, where the basic idea was that children become effective grown-ups by being connected with community adults in their productive roles.

Youth learned from the community and were productive for their community. They learned the skills, traditions, and customs of the community through their relationships with the adults. They were not exiled to the world of paid people and clienthood. Today, it is clear that the most effective local communities have reclaimed their youth and assumed primary responsibility for their upbringing. The research on this point is decisive. Where there are ‘thick’ community connections, both child development and school performance improve.

Conversely, localities with very little social connection consistently reflect negative lives for their children. However, it doesn’t take a social scientist to teach us this. We see around us, at every level of income, the costs of trying to pay for someone else to rear our children. We see it in gangs, mall-centered children, and negative behavior that grows because the local community has not surrounded and guided the young.

In the end, we see children who are school-smart but worldly unwise because they have not shared in the wisdom, experience, and loving care of the people in their community.

- John McKnight and Peter Block in The Abundant Community: Awakening the Power of Families and Neighborhoods