new to you friday–OOAFITYSK

In the comments to my original post, Arron confirmed that Andrew is a Christian church boy, which is nice to know since I have moved from casual fan to worshiper of Mr. Peterson in the time since I first posted this and it seems less sacrilegious if he’s at least rooted in my own denomination.

His latest album, Counting Stars, released this week and it is one of his best—which is saying something. His songs wrestle with faith and hope and the story of God’s redemption. They are insightful but always singable. And they still make me jealous that Arron gets to be Andrew’s friend.


Go buy it now. Go on.

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Usually, an installment of "One Of My Friends I Think You Should Know" sticks with its name and introduces you to someone whose work---whether it's preaching, writing, leading worship, or whatever---achieves excellence. These people also happen to be a lot of fun---have you ever noticed how often the two go together?

But today we break from tradition to introduce Andrew Peterson, One of Arron's Friends I Think You Should Know. I first became aware of Andrew after his appearance at Tokens, and since then his CD "The Far Country" has been on frequent rotation in my car and on my iPod.

I like all ten songs from the album, but a few stand out: "Mountains on the Ocean Floor" reminds listeners that God is always moving, always transforming---even when we can't see it. The title track captures our longing for God in the midst of a land that's not our home, and the beautiful lyric of "More" proclaims, "There is more/More than all this pain/More than all the falling down/And the getting up again/There is more/More than we can see/From our tiny vantage point/In this vast eternity/There is more."

Apparently, in addition to a huge talent for transforming spiritual insights into singable poetry, Andrew also has some kind of connection to our churches, because the CD's liner notes thank a First Christian Church in Florida and........... Arron Chambers! Who was already a friend of mine you should know, but has now been elevated to OOMFIWBSF (one of my friends I will be shamelessly flattering) so I can score some good concert tickets sometime or maybe even be Andrew Peterson's friend myself. I bet he's fun.

taylorville

Last week my mom wrote the following on Facebook:

Generally annoyed by the grandmother in Wal-Mart who persisted in directing her snippy comments to her little granddaughter who was doing nothing wrong. I vote for a reinstatement of the public stockade.

Her first mistake was shopping at Wal-mart at all. However, the comment did remind me of my own long-term plan to start a country called Taylorville where I will rule as a benevolent dictator. Competition to live in the country will be fierce because of my firm but fair system of laws.


Here is a sneak peek at these never-before-published Taylorville Rules:

—Every resident/family will receive a new house from their choice of several floorplans. Every house will include a front porch, spacious back yard and hardwood floors.

—Fireplaces will be optional because Taylorville weather will be moderate, with lows no lower than 50 degrees and highs no higher than 80. There will be at least one thunderstorm or steady rain each week and no tornadoes, hurricanes, or earthquakes.

—You may own a gun or bullets, but not both.

—No activity in Taylorville will require jazz hands.

—If the waistband of your pants falls more than two inches below your navel you will have a choice of punishments: go everywhere pantsless for a day or wear only leather pants for a week.

—Good TV and movies will be celebrated as art. However, certain shows—including the Jerry Springer show, infomercials, the movie “Hot Tub Time Machine,” and anything involving a Kardashian—will be prohibited. “American Idol” will be tolerated as long as you don’t feel compelled to talk about it with anyone not already into it, including the dictator of Taylorville.

—Each resident will participate in a yearly driving test, administered by me or a person of my choice. If you a) drive more than 8 miles below the speed limit; b) unconsciously brake when getting to the good part of the story you’re telling; or c) veer from lane to lane without checking your blind spot, there is a good chance I will get cranky and revoke your license for a time period of my choosing.

—Discussion of one’s “peeps” will not be tolerated.

—Every resident will read at least one book a month. The book may not be authored by Jayne Ann Krentz.

—Sensors will be installed in every restroom, public and private, and will emit loud embarrassing messages if you leave without washing your hands. With soap.

—If you pronounce the word “vase” so that it rhymes with “gauze,” you’re outta there.

—The entire country will have laser-fast free WiFi. However, if you text/update Facebook/check your email while driving or during a conversation, all privileges will be revoked.

—A Taylorville representative must approve your pet. If it howls, barks excessively (as determined by me), chases/growls at/threatens people walking by its house, jumps up on its hind legs to lick people on the face, or puts its front paws on the kitchen table it will be immediately removed.

—Church attendance is optional, as is choice of religion. However, you will want to attend Taylorville Christian Church because it will include bluegrass music, a full orchestra, poetry, painting, a C.S. Lewis book club, stained glass, antique wooden pews, fair-trade coffee from New Zealand, homemade cinnamon rolls and 22-minute sermons from a variety of special guest speakers including Tim Keller, Donald Miller, and Barbara Brown Taylor.

—Powdered creamer is prohibited.

—Raising chickens in your back yard is prohibited.

—Taylorville will include a few restaurants with delicious, healthy, reasonably-priced food. The experience will not be spoiled with pop music piped in at ear-splitting volume. At no time will a waitress tell you she’ll be “taking care of you today” or complain about what a tough day she’s had. If Celine Dion comes on the radio your meal is free.

—Encouraged but not required: community gardening, cooking from scratch, excessive reading, long walks, sitting on the front porch and talking to neighbors taking long walks, watching sunsets, learning an instrument, celebrating with champagne, writing letters, talking to preschoolers.

—If you receive approval to live in Taylorville, consider it an implicit approval for you to procreate more of your kind. Please mind the neighbors, however.

new to you friday–call waiting

I’m re-posting this one partly because I still hear, almost weekly, comments about how “everything happens for a reason” and “God has a plan for your life” and I continue to question the theology, but mostly because the comments on the original post were so great. What do you think?

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A few weeks ago, Dave Ferguson summarized Frederick Buechner’s famous quote as his Facebook and Twitter status: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”


I wrestle with this perspective because I have yet to find my “deep gladness.”

Believe me, I’ve tried—I’ve prayed, fasted, and evaluated my spiritual gifts. (For the record, I don’t know what those are, either.) I’ve “first, broken all the rules” and “now, discovered my strengths.” I even participated in a very thorough and helpful SIMA analysis. (At the end the consultant told me he thought my profile and giftedness is the same as Martha Stewart’s except I’m not a jerk. Except he didn’t say jerk.)

I care about things; I’m all for clean water in Africa and ending urban poverty and planting new churches. I like most animals more than many humans and I’m good at growing tomatoes. But I wouldn’t say drilling wells or starting churches or protecting animals or feeding the poor (even with my produce) are consuming passions.


For years I thought it was just a matter of pointing the flashlight at the right corner of my soul—that a latent passion would spring into life if I strained the eyes of my heart into the dark. I remember saying in college, when I first hit my head against this wall while trying to choose a major, “If God would just TELL me what he wants me to do with my life, I would do it. Anything. He knows I will. Why won’t he tell me?”

I thought everyone had felt a call on their life and had a passion for something and struggled with burdens on their hearts during seasons of ministry and other such Christianese crap. (Perhaps the Martha Stewart comment has some truth.)

And I think some people do, just as I think God probably does handpick spouses for a few people. What safety, what comfort in those thoughts! But how much scarier to ponder the (much more biblical) feedback I received from one wise mentor: What if there are many professions we can pursue and people we could marry? What if God gives us guidelines for making the decisions but loves us enough to give us freedom? What if he’ll be pleased with any choice as long as we honor him while living it out?

I re-posted the quote on my own Facebook and Twitter pages with the question, “What if you have no great passion?” And another wise friend commented, “The Bible says to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly. Love God and love others. We make it way too hard.”

I don’t think Buechner is a bad guy (or Dave, for that matter—he’s a great guy). But I have some problems with American Christianity’s myth that God will map out our lives for us. Perhaps his great gladness is watching us chart the course for ourselves.

thoughts on visiting “the tribe”

This past Sunday night I had an opportunity to visit The Tribe, the church in Los Angeles where Alan Hirsch and his wife Deb serve and where Deb leads as a minister. I visited with my friend Mel McGowan and we were privileged to participate in the celebration of the church’s move into a new leased warehouse space.

(One of the things I love about LA is no one thinks it’s odd to see a group of 60 people parading down Albion Avenue carrying sofa cushions and following a very tall man wearing a top hat and hoisting a lit torch.)

So it was an interesting evening. In many ways, this artistic community fit my expectations; it’s a young crowd, mostly single. The people were warm and welcoming. The communal meal included hummus.

In other ways it didn’t. There was less ethnic diversity than I expected (the crowd was mostly Caucasian) and only one child.


But the most surprising thing was how closely this gathering resembled what we know about the early church. The Tribe gathers each Sunday night for a shared meal, then worships through original music, visual art, and study of the Bible. They rip pieces from a loaf of bread, dip them in a cup of wine, and celebrate communion together. They sing acapella and accompanied by drums. They know each other well and pray for each other. They toss crumpled bills into a bright red tote bag to cover the warehouse rent and learn from a small leadership team who coordinates the the weekend services and receives no salary.

I’m not saying this a better way to do church and community, but it does seem more like a New Testament congregation than many of our “Restoration” churches modeled on that ideal. Yet I suspect many of us would be uncomfortable there—which is the most interesting thing of all.

new to you friday–21 club

This week last year my friend Jon turned 21, and I wrote this blog entry as a birthday greeting. This week this year he turned 22, and you have now witnessed the full extent of my math skills.

What advice would you add?

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Many of my blog entries lately have been lists. Well, it’s summer, and attention spans are shorter; no one wants to read an essay on why I think high schools should expand sex education beyond abstinence. (Actually, only about four of you probably did the first time.)

Plus, today my friend Jon celebrates his 21st birthday and his parents asked friends and family to share a word of encouragement, favorite scripture, or life lesson to mark the occasion.


Presumptuously, I decided to send 21 lessons, because Jon is one of the few people in my life a) easygoing enough to appreciate piles of unsolicited advice and b) young enough to possibly think I might have some wisdom worth sharing.

But I’m not alone—I’m sure you have some good advice for this young man, too, so add what I’ve missed. The happy birthday email I just sent him directs him here to read the full list, so he’ll see your comments, too. And I’ll come up with something non-listy for next time.


21 things to remember as you turn 21:

1. Once in a great while, you get better results from being so assertive you’re almost rude. (A recent phone conversation with Comcast, i.e. the worst company on the planet, comes to mind.) 98% of the time kindness is the way to go.

2. It’s okay to skip over the long census lists when reading Numbers.

3. The person who talks the loudest isn’t always the person who’s right.

4. Elisabeth Elliot’s father taught his sons to only say “I love you” to a woman if prepared to follow it up with “Will you marry me?” This may not be an entirely practical idea today, but the principle is still good: do not mislead a girl, and don’t give her 100% of your heart until you’ve made a lifetime commitment to her.

5. Ditto on giving her 100% of your body.

6. Ask if the cat constantly pukes before you adopt it.

7. Learn the difference between their/there/they’re and its/it’s. Sadly, if you use these words correctly you’ll seem more professional and better educated than 75% of the population.

8. Find at least three vegetables you like and eat two of them every day. It’s okay if cheese is involved. Corn and potatoes don’t count.

9. Some people will be your friend for just a phase or a season, and a few will be your friend your whole life. Both groups are valuable, but be sure to take care of the lifers.

10. When you get the chance to travel somewhere, anywhere, take it.

11. You cannot change people. The best you can do is change how you respond to them or how you let them affect you.

12. Be nice to the waiter. Tip well.

13. If you get stranded in Ft. Wayne, IN two days before Christmas in the biggest snowstorm to hit the east coast in ten years, and the little dude with a scraggly mustache informs you your luggage didn’t make it, remember #1 and insist on viewing the collected baggage to make sure. It will be there.

14. Do not use your credit card as an emergency fund, and balance your checkbook every month.

15. Wear sunscreen.

16. It’s not only ethical to be honest, it’s also easier. You don’t have to keep your stories straight, and you can handle small issues before they become ginormous.

17. In all the Michael Jackson hoopla, I re-watched his 1983 performance of “Billie Jean.” As tragic as the rest of his life became, those 4 1/2 minutes are inspiring; he was born to sing and dance. St. Irenaeus said that the glory of God is man fully alive. Discover what makes you fully alive and then spend your life pursuing it.

18. Worries seem bigger and scarier at night. Get some sleep and come back to it in the morning.

19. Regularly spend time with four year olds.

20. Some things we find really fun aren’t worth our time, and some things worth our time are completely not fun. Do the important stuff whether it’s fun or not.

21. Just because you’re now old enough to drink legally doesn’t mean you’re old enough to drink too much. Moderation in all things, my friend (even vegetables).

sign language

Church signs can be tricky.


While driving around Nashville this weekend I noticed our local Unitarian church had posted a new message:

IF YOU LIKE WAYNE DYER, YOU’LL LIKE THIS CHURCH.

Wayne Dyer is a self-help and motivational speaker who authored Your Erroneous Zones, among others. He leads seminars with titles like “Mastering the Art of Manifestation.”




This is all well and good for the Unitarians, but it got me wondering: whose name would fit in that sentence on your church sign?

Some churches could say “If you like Dr. Phil you’ll like our church.”

Some could say “If you like Beth Moore you’ll like our church.”

Some could say “If you like fun videos or MOPS or seniors outings or singles groups or VBS or softball you’ll like our church.”

Many could say, “If you like our senior minister you’ll like our church.”

But could your church say “If you like Jesus you’ll like our church”? And if not, what would have to change?

counting my blessings

The NACC is full of blessings. A squeeze on the arm from a woman who has known my mother since before I was born. The moment when, as I happened to pass the stage area, Ben asked me to talk with a woman who came forward after the service and requested prayer. Dinner with dear friends who live too many states away and the delight of getting to know their young daughters a bit more each year. (“Miss Jen, I like your necklace. Miss Jen, what’s your favorite food? Miss Jen, I like soccer and reading and singing and I can make every letter in cursive and our dog is named Vito.”)

This afternoon I experienced another blessing at the special women’s event with Carol Kent. For one thing, the 600 women gathered in the Hyatt ballroom did not come to be entertained. Although they enjoyed the food and the door prizes and the giveaways, they also worshiped, standing spontaneously at the round tables and raising their hands.

And they shed tears as Ms. Kent shared the story of her son who killed his wife’s ex in a parking lot several years ago and is now serving a life sentence in a Florida prison. Although he leads Bible studies and counseling classes among the inmates, he will never be released alive. She will never have grandchildren or a Norman Rockwell Christmas.  She’ll never even have a National Lampoon Christmas—she and her husband spend every holiday in the visitor room of the jail. She can never “fix it” and it will never be okay.


So she spoke with credibility and power to these hundreds of women, all of whom have their own scars and struggles. (In one of my favorite moments, she asked, “How many of you have had life turn out differently than you expected?” Every hand raised. “How many of you had life turn out better than you expected?” A few hands. “We’re happy for the two of you.”)

She shared simple, simple but hard, hard ways to “move beyond surviving to thriving” when life takes an unexpected turn:

–Choose life instead of emotional, physical, and spiritual death

–Choose to trust

–Choose vulnerability; don’t live in your secrets

–Choose gratitude

–Choose forgiveness

–Choose purpose

Could you choose vulnerability when the entire community is discussing your darkest moment? Could you choose gratitude when your son has been beaten by other inmates?

Carol Kent does—I suspect on a daily, if not hourly, basis—and this hard-won maturity gives her words extra impact. My lunch is eaten and I didn’t win a door prize, but these words have stayed with me. In a world where every person experiences disappointment and hurt, her example is the real blessing.

all in the family

During this week of our “family reunion” at the NACC, it seems fitting to revisit the topic of family worship.

In most churches, this term—if it’s used at all—means a service, held once each month or each quarter, designed for entire families to attend together. Kids’ classes are canceled and often the service will include “kid-friendly” elements like a short devotional time (don’t call it a children’s sermon, we’re not Presbyterians), or a terrifically perky adult will lead the whole congregation in singing one of the songs used in children’s church. Hand motions may be involved.

Despite my strong opinions on bringing kids, especially squalling babies, into many intended-for-adults venues, I  like to see kids joining their parents and other adults in worship. (The babies should still go to the nursery. Seriously.) It’s great for churches to develop weekend programs where kids can learn about the Bible in age-appropriate ways, but I think it’s also important for them to observe and participate in the larger church. They need to see their parents, their friends’ parents, and total strangers praying, singing, serving communion and giving an offering.

However, I think they also need a way to participate, so I was thrilled to hear of a church that’s defining “family worship” in a broader way. During a chance discussion during a seminar last week, I met a woman named Dana whose church celebrated the 4th by not only inviting kids into the service, but onto the stage.

The praise team singers led worship flanked by their children, who stood and sang next to them. The people praying, presenting the communion thought and giving announcements were accompanied by their children. Even the preacher was joined by his kids, who shared a few minutes of the sermon. Each adult involved in the service in any way brought his or her children up front to share the experience.


I love this for so many reasons.

It teaches kids the importance of serving the church and doing so in an orderly, God-honoring way. It expands their perception of “big church” and why it matters. It respects and values their contribution. It reinforces ideas of family, both the small biological family unit and the larger extended church family. It could even spur the adults to think about the weekly service in new ways, to reconsider the why behind what happens because a curious six year old has lots of questions.

Worshiping this way takes extra planning and extra patience. It requires intentionality and thoughtful consideration of every age group. It happens because a group values the gathering more than the inconvenience.

The same is true for the NACC. Family worship isn’t always the easiest, but it’s worth it. I’m sure Dana’s service was a success and I’m looking forward to a great week in Indy…….although I hope there aren’t hand motions.

new to you friday–peace and quiet

Phyllis Tickle, founder of the Religion department at Publishers Weekly and author of many books including the Divine Hours series, a collection of prayers for seasons of the year and of church life, spoke at this year’s Q conference in Chicago. I wasn’t able to attend (by the way, if anyone wants to pay my way to next year’s event, I won’t say no) but based on the tweets coming from my friends who did, she had a number of good things to say about spiritual practices like fasting, communion, sabbath and fixed-hour prayer.

As I noted in the original post, there is a growing desire for more reflection, more liturgy and more structure in worship. Growing numbers of evangelicals participate in Ash Wednesday services and Lenten fasts. Ancient hymns still connect, although the musical arrangements may vary. And the same generation clamoring for new iPhones somehow, at the same time, realizes the need to pull away, disconnect, and seek stillness.

First Friday at Christ Cathedral continues to be one way I find this sacred quiet. Of course, participation in spiritual disciplines must be long-term and multi-faceted—one service once a month won’t produce wellsprings of peace. I bet Phyllis Tickle said as much in her Q presentation……..which I’d know if I could have gone……..

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Authors like Brian McLaren and Robert Webber have written about “ancient-future” worship and spiritual practices. Many churches have added more contemplative vespers or chapel services in addition to the guitars and SermonSpice videos on Sunday morning, and Taize prayer services have started to pop up everywhere from the Unitarians to the Presbyterians.

Clearly, there is a growing desire for simpler, quieter worship options, even (especially?) among the younger generations. Is this symptomatic of larger doctrinal shifts, or simply the inevitable pendulum swing after years of the other extreme in American worship?

I’m guessing both, but for me it’s simply an opportunity to be still and to reflect, and I join hundreds of others the first Friday evening of each month at Christ Cathedral in downtown Nashville. Although all of the services offered at this Episcopal congregation are open to the community, they created the First Friday services as a “sacred space” especially for the city.


To pursue this mission the cathedral also offers violin and organ concerts, choral music performances, quarterly evensong services, and even something called “Liturgical Floral Design.” I’ve attended several of these events (not the floral one) but my favorite is First Friday. Each month the 90-minute service combines traditional elements of Episcopalian and Anglican liturgy, including a complete communion service, with surprisingly modern touches.

For instance, this past Friday’s service focused on the value of story as a way to communicate deep spiritual truths. A guest speaker shared several parables throughout the service (one accompanied by a dance from the church’s Epiphany Dance Company), and songs included not only the expected staid hymns but also a swinging version of “I Love to Tell the Story.” This being Nashville, the music at First Friday is always top-notch, and always different; this service had a jazz and piano feel while other Fridays have featured a bluegrass combo or a children’s choir.

The services include so many simple but effective elements, many of which—like the uptempo “Sanctus” sung three times before communion and accompanied by hand motions—don’t fit the stereotype. And each one also features something different to reinforce the theme; this month the church provided a basket of fabric scraps and encouraged each worshiper to take one and write a word or symbol on it to represent the story of his own life.

“At the offertory, you are invited to bring your cloth forward and attach it to a larger cloth that will be placed on the altar in preparation for the Holy Eucharist as a way of offering your life to the One who redeems and makes all things new,” they wrote in the order of service.


Don’t worry, I’m not about to become Episcopalian–the incense alone is enough to put me off that idea. But I do love entering this sacred space every month or two and finding an oasis of quiet where I can slow my racing thoughts and think about that One in a new way. I’ll leave it to our contemporary authors to explore the theological implications of these trends, although Webber’s work is on my should-have-read-a-year-ago list. For now, I’m content to sit in the back of Christ Cathedral, soak in the calm, and appreciate all those liturgical flower arrangements.