guest post #2–washed and waiting

You all are a rebellious bunch.

The first response to my call for guest posts was an email saying, “I don’t want to write about this—will you?”

Okay.


Then I got a guest post submission that had already appeared on the writer’s own blog, despite my insistence that posts be original material.

The trouble with creative people is they usually don’t like to follow rules. However, because this particular creative is a friend who makes me think, and because this blog post talks about a book that’s made both of us think, I’m bending the rules. Also I’m pretty sure he paid for the extra guacamole last time we had lunch.

Check out Kyle’s blog here.

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Thank you, Wesley Hill.

I’ve just finished reading his book Washed and Waiting: Reflections on Christian Faithfulness and Homosexuality. I was able to hear him speak at the STORY Conference recently and was profoundly impacted by his exposition of Romans 8.


“For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.”


I have a dear soul-friend who possesses wonderfully thoughtful intelligence, a soft wit, deep passions, and a same-sex attraction, so I quickly made time to read this book.




Washed and Waiting begins with Hill’s own journey through adolescence, his failed attempts to re-orient himself to women, and the agony of being different. (Side note: I’m wonderfully proud of the communities that surrounded him during this journey. The story is a testament to their authentic faith lived out: churches and small groups fully participating in their God-given roles as an extended family.)

Many reviewers will comment on Hill’s choice to be sexually abstinent because he believes the Bible to be inerrant in its condemnation of homosexual practice. But the book is not simply about being gay—it is a collection of field notes from a soldier in a war against self. And this war—the burden and longing of Romans 8—is one we can all relate to regardless of our sexual orientation.


We all struggle with desires that may never be fulfilled in this life. For me it is the passion for beautiful ideas, for seeking and creating and curating them. However, these are not the skills most commonly requested in the ministry marketplace. And so I learn and produce and work and serve, but with little to feed my own spirit. Eight years later I am still searching for the right beautiful idea, and I need to own the reality of longing for more than I may experience in this life.

That is the power of Hill’s book. We all wrestle with unfulfilled dreams, or desires which—if they were fulfilled—would damage us. Washed and Waiting can teach us important lessons about choosing a holy life in a world we did not choose.

new to you friday–to be and to have

It’s been a heavy week here on the ‘ol blog, so let’s end with some smiles. This is still one of my favorite movies and one I still think should be required viewing for anyone who works with kids.

In the time since the original post, YouTube yanked the video I first linked to—which is great because it forced me to look for this one, which is even more wonderful. Take eight minutes out of your Friday to enjoy it.

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I love action movies. But I also love kids, good teachers, and laughing, and this slow-paced, reflective movie is full of all three.

To Be and To Have is a documentary which follows a small classroom of students and their wonderful teacher George Lopez throughout the seasons in rural France. The big ones learn geometry while the little ones practice their numbers—all in the same classroom.

It sounds idyllic, and it largely is because of Lopez’s skill at keeping the fifteen or so students quiet and on task whether he’s giving them personal attention at the moment or not. He accomplishes this by communicating high expectations and treating the children with respect—as a result, the kids don’t want to disappoint him. When the inevitable squabbles happen, he models conflict resolution. And he finds the teachable in every moment.


I highly recommend this if you have kids, teach kids, or want to do either one. Your Blockbuster should have it, and if not, impress the Netflix people with your savoir faire. (It’s in French with English subtitles. Don’t be scared. You forget after a few minutes.)

To Be and To Have is a great example of the impact of one life—plus there’s JoJo, the delightful 4-year-old who needs help washing his hands and sticks pencils up his nose.

new to you friday–the last christmas pageant ever

Welcome to October. (Wasn’t it just July?)

Anyway, here we are, and right on cue my church-enews-only email account has started to fill with announcements of Fall Fests and Harvest Parties. Churches have started rehearsals for Christmas choir programs and plays. And I’m still skeptical of the long-term value of any of it. What do you think?

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I’m guessing at least 50% of you attended a “Harvest Party” or “Trunk-n-Treat” at your church last month, and at least 25% more attend a church that held one.

Which is all fine, as far as it goes, although I take issue with two of the most commonly given reasons for these sugar-fests: that they provide a safer alternative to traditional trick or treating, and that they are a powerful outreach activity to the community.


Although some local news stations still dust off the razor-blades-in-the-apples story each October, Snopes.com disproved every instance of candy tampering ever reported in conjunction with Halloween. It’s just a myth—as is, most likely, the adult who actually gave apples.

These events also fail to reach our communities. Lots of people may show up and the church might receive some good press. A few families may even return for a weekend worship service because of the experience they have on your campus—although I’d bet a Snickers bar your church doesn’t know if that’s happening. Meanwhile, we spend hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars recruiting volunteers, organizing games, and haranguing church members for candy donations.

Or there’s Christmas. I don’t have the Snopes link to prove it, but do you know anyone who became a Christian because of a Christmas cantata? Usually the audience for such things is comprised of the family and friends of those in the choir, most of whom are already believers. (This is doubly true for children’s programs.) Again, the investment of time and energy is out of all proportion to the spiritual ROI.


If we really want to show love to our neighbors at Halloween, we could follow the example of my own parents, who make a big pot of apple cider, park themselves in lawn chairs at the bottom of their driveway, and give cups of the hot drink to every tired, cold parent who comes along with his tiny princess/pirate/Disney character. They talk to their neighbors, serve them in a small way, extend friendship, and ooh and aah over little people in costumes. (They give candy, too, the good stuff—kids aren’t excited about cider.)

Or, like Journey Christian Church, we could organize a “Light Night” and challenge members to creatively transform their homes into places of light and welcome on this traditionally dark evening. My fellow blogger Arron, who serves as senior minister at Journey, says the church offered a variety of ways for people to participate (set up games or bounce houses, make popcorn or cotton candy, host costume contests, and–yes!–give out hot cider). Members were encouraged to distribute info about Journey’s programs for kids and copies of the Gospel of John along with the candy.

At Christmas, what if we asked church members to spend Wednesday night having dinner with a non-Christian neighbor instead of attending choir practice with lots of already-Christians? What if, instead of lining the sanctuary with video cameras to capture Junior’s debut as wiseman #3, we opened our homes for Advent parties for all our kid’s friends?


I’m really not lecturing—there’s more I can do in this area, too. But let’s be honest—we do Fall Fests and Christmas pageants because these things make us feel good. If we really wanted to serve and reach non-Christians, we’d be doing something else.

transition points

Bob Russell has set the bar high for us in a number of areas.

Humility. Class. Longevity of ministry.

Oh, and that whole growing a church from 50 to 20,000 thing.

He also modeled transitioning well, from the first leadership team discussions about succession planning in 1999 to the memorable “baton-passing” during his last service as Southeast’s senior minister in 2006.

Bob shares the story of this journey, the lessons learned, and suggestions for other leaders in his new book “Transition Plan.” The publishers mailed me a review copy recently and I’m glad to share it with you as an excellent resource.



Rick Warren has praised Southeast’s transition from Bob to current senior minister Dave Stone as the only perfect one he’s seen, but this book is helpful because Bob also shares some of the things he would have done differently.  He admits the occasions he struggled and the principles he followed.

“Some ministers feel the choice of their successor should be left up to God and that any effort at a transition plan is a presumption on God’s will,” he writes. “But we don’t take that same approach to other transitions. We make out a will for our children, we train someone to take our place at work, and we mentor assistant coaches in athletics. Why would we give less attention to the Kingdom of God?”

Bob showed us how to grace-fully hand your life’s work to the next generation. Whether you’re a minister or a business leader, you can learn from his example. I have a second, autographed copy of the book which I’ll give away to one of you—just leave a comment on this post by 5 p.m. EST on Thursday. Tell me about the transition you’re involved in, the one you need to be planning, the one you mishandled, or what you’ve learned in this area. If you really have nothing on topic to share, offer a suggestion of what I should be for Halloween this year. (I’m stuck. Why does every Halloween outfit for women involve short skirts and plunging necklines? But that’s another post.)

new to you friday–success story

Once upon a time there lived a freelance writer who really wanted to attend STORY.


In 2010, because of a generous person, this writer attended the second-annual conference. She heard amazing speakers like Charlie Todd, Andrew Klavan, Jason Fried and David McFadzean. She sat at the feet of legendary UCLA screenwriting professor Richard Walter (literally–there was no more room on the couch). She got some free stuff and met Ben Arment and heard Amena Brown share one of her newest poems at an Elements event at the city’s “premiere gay and lesbian bar” before snagging the last cheese pizza at a place down the street and eating it with her buddy Kyle while standing outside on one of the summer’s last lovely nights.

And that was just day one.

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Humorist and cookbook author Peg Bracken once described the difference between a gourmet cook and her own humble efforts this way:

[The gourmet's] assignment had been dessert. So, at dessert time, she brought out big plastic bags of old-fashioned plump chocolate-marshmallow cookies.

“I adore these, don’t you?” she beamed, handing them around. And everyone did, thinking, moreover, How original, how posh! But if someone else had done this they’d have thought, Poor child, how naive!

The same principle applies in other areas—people already established as successes in a particular field can often do no wrong, while an unknown but equally-talented counterpart couldn’t pull off the same thing.

This struck me Monday as the buzz began building around Ben Arment’s announcement of his new STORY conference scheduled this October in Chicago. Until this week Arment served as the “Innovation and Experience Director” at Catalyst and is now going out on his own to create a production company for live events and film. STORY is his first project in this new role.

As soon as the news hit, so did the twittering:

@Church Relevance: Ben Arment is putting together another fresh ministry conference called STORY.

@mknisely: #STORY is going 2 do something significant 4 church communicators & open the possibilities 2 a new way of thinking.

@vjProctor: check out STORY by @BenArment – a first-of-its-kind experience -

@GBrenna: I’m pretty excited about this!!! (thanks @BenArment)

@mknisely: dude. #STORY is going to be off the hook. i cannot wait.



I’m not knocking the conference; in fact, Monday I emailed Christian Standard and offered it to cover it if they would pay my expenses and registration. (No response yet.)

But what I find amazing is that within minutes, hundreds of people around the world were not only talking about this new venture but singing its praises. It’s true Arment has a history of successes, and that influences us; J.J. Abrams was able to get the new Star Trek movie made in part because of his track record creating TV shows like LOST, Alias, and Fringe. We all build on past successes and Arment’s work speaks for itself.

So kudos to him. But I wonder what would happen if someone else, someone less well known and less affiliated with other hip initiatives, created the exact same conference. How much do we miss out on because it’s new or needs better branding? Is it that loser’s fault for not doing a better job grabbing our attention, or ours for being so hard to impress?

In the investment world, past performance does not guarantee future results. But in marketing and personal branding, past coolness predicts future acceptance. “Mrs. Tiffany can wear paste beads, and J. Paul Getty can wear out-at-the-elbow sweaters, too,” Bracken writes. “That’s the way the world wags, and no one has yet discovered what to do about it.”

new to you friday–armed service

In light of Terry Jones‘ recent behavior, today seemed an appropriate time to revisit another arena of congregational nuttiness. When I originally posted this, most people wanted to discuss my (intentionally) hyperbolic statement about the death penalty more than they wanted to comment on the prospect of hundreds of people packed into a church building with guns. If I had a chance to do it again I’d probably tone that sentence down—a bit. Wait, this kind of IS that chance, isn’t it?…………………ah, well.


I think love of God and country are both fine as long as we remember they’re two different things. I think everyone should read Columbine. And if this is a fake and Jones goes through with the Quran burning after all, endangering hundreds or thousands of American soldiers, I might change my mind about the death penalty.

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First of all, I’m not questioning your constitutional right to have a gun (although after reading Columbine I’m less convinced than ever that our current system is working—sure, eighteen year olds should be allowed to purchase semi-automatics at a gun show).

What I am questioning is why pastor Ken Pagano recently encouraged his flock at New Bethel Church in Louisville, KY to come to church armed.

This Saturday New Bethel is hosting an “Open Carry Celebration,” featuring videos promoting gun safety, patriotic music, a raffle—and extra security.

“As a Christian pastor I believe that without a deep-seated belief in God and firearms that this country would not be here,” Pagano told ABCNews.com. “I’m not ashamed of that fact. I’m proud of it.”


Evangelical Republicanism, otherwise known as “you can’t kill ‘em but we can” (NO to abortion and stem cell research, YES to capital punishment and war), has many adherents who confuse love of God with love of country. When patriotism = freedom and freedom = guns, you have a conservative who values the 2nd amendment. When patriotism also = Christianity, you get statements like Pagano’s.

And I get heartburn.


For one thing, I know plenty of Christians who have enough crazy already, thank you, and don’t need to be attending pentecostal worship services with handguns.

Second, the whole “permissible but not beneficial” thing comes to mind. Is this really the best way to present the Gospel to lost people? I know churches are questioning the whole seeker-sensitive model, but that doesn’t mean we have to become seeker-scary.

And think about the energy New Bethel’s investing to promote, plan, and defend this event. There really wasn’t anything more Kingdom-building to do in Louisville?


Ironically, this story hit just days after George Tiller was killed for performing late-term abortions. He was shot. In a church.

We may differ on the ideal balance between church and state, but can’t we agree on separation of church and ammo?

growing like Jesus

Christian Standard recently asked me and seven other contributing editors to consider the various ways Jesus grew—”in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men”—and to share how we’re growing in one of those areas.

Here’s my answer–don’t miss the other excellent responses on the CS website.

This spring I tagged a few days onto a California business trip so I could spend time with friends.

First I had coffee with John, who shared his recent decision to leave a safe ministry position and start a new church. “I waited years to discover this calling, and just tried to stay faithful until I saw the next step,” he told me. “And I’m not afraid because God is in it.”

Next was Kyle, who told me about his trip to Africa and how he left his fear there. Then he described how I seem to be struggling with my own fears, and how it could look to create margin in my life to explore these questions.

Then Christie, who pushed me to consider whether I was using workaholism as an escape. When I admitted her questions seemed eerily similar to these other conversations, she replied, “Well, it seems like God’s using anyone he can to get your attention.”

None of these friends knew that many of my recent struggles included lack of clarity over my own next steps, the wrestling match between being and doing, or temptations to stay safe and avoid risk. But God knew, and he spoke truth through people close to me. These days it is THE way he is helping me grow in wisdom.


I wonder how much God might have used the quiet faith of Mary or the strength of Joseph to help Jesus grow. Jesus prepared 30 years for his three-year ministry—how many now-anonymous friends, cousins, neighbors and teachers spoke into his journey?

We know his interactions with the disciples, with the religious leaders, and even with anonymous followers affected him. He was “astonished” by the faith of the centurion (Matthew 8 ) and “amazed” by others’ lack of faith (Mark 6).

He asked questions—some rhetorical, to be sure, but not all. “What were you arguing about?” he asks a group of teachers (Mark 9). “Do you want to get well?” he asks the invalid at Bethesda (John 5). In a crowd: “Who touched my clothes?” (Mark 5). One on one with a Samaritan woman: “Will you give me a drink?” (John 4).

If Jesus, the sinless Son of God, was influenced by the fallen people around him, how much more can we learn from the people in our own lives?


This includes the difficult people. As my minister says, the people we find it most challenging to love often provide the greatest opportunities to become more like Jesus. The employer sharing a less than stellar opinion of my work, the neighbor letting his dogs roam (and more) in my front yard, the church choir soprano proudly and loudly warbling off key—each one has allowed me to practice the graceful art of keeping my opinions to myself (until I publish them in a national magazine).

God can use the frustrating folks, and the frustratingly oblivious ones, as our 101 curriculum for patience, kindness—and wisdom.

Of course we must weight the feedback we receive from both our friends and our critics; just because the insight comes from a mentor or authority figure doesn’t make it accurate. But when we combine the counsel of trusted friends with our own reading of Scripture and connection to a church community, we are refusing insular thinking, accepting correction, and opening ourselves to growth.


At the end of my lunch with Kyle, he expressed his belief, confirmed again during his time in Africa, that God wants to be known in relationship with us.

“I’m not convinced,” I countered. “He seems to hide himself from me most of the time.”

“He doesn’t seem to be hiding now, does he?” Kyle said. “You have serious trust issues with God but even you have to admit he’s showing up.”

He is indeed, through the grace and truth shared by fellow travelers. Their wisdom is slowly helping me to grow in wisdom as well.

Two questions: Don’t I have the coolest friends ever? How are you growing like Jesus grew?

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.

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.