Aj Schwanz

Today marks the beginning of the 115th Northwest Yearly Meeting Annual Sessions taking place at George Fox University in Newberg, Oregon. I donít know if anyone has ever blogged about these sessions before, so I think Iíll appoint myself the Official Blogger of the NWYM Sessions 2005.

Today weíre having Family Fun Day as well as The Hoot on the Centennial Clocktown lawn. As soon as my son wakes up, weíll mingle with friends from Oregon, Idaho, and Washington as they roll in for the weeklong meetings, workshops, and worship times, and other festivities. Since Iím on the Board of Evangelism, Iíll need to pick up my official packet complete with a schedule and a nametag. Plus, Iím leading a workshop on Tuesday, so Iîll need to scope out my digs (Lemmons 14 for anyone interested in coming).

Hope to see yíall there!

My mother will laugh, or wonder outloud, at the placement of this picture on my site. ìWhy would I have a picture of that building, knowing all of our history surrounding it?î Well, thatís why - history: lots of it.

The scene is Newberg, Oregon, at Pacific College founded by local Quakers. It later became George Fox College, and then George Fox University, but I donít really know all the details. I should, since I was present for the centennial as well as the college to university name change, but I had more interesting things going on like wondering when I could escape the boring history talk and run over to 7-Eleven to get a slurpee.

I have made annual treks to this campus for as long as I can remember. At the age of two or three my folks loaded up the car, and we began our first of many trips for the annual yearly meeting sessions. We marveled at Oregonís lack of air conditioning (bought our first fan over here, affectionately known as The Yearly Meeting Fan) and Newbergís lack of one-stop shopping (Freddyís didnít invade until we moved here in the nineties).

In high school my trips to campus generally consisted of seeing a play put on by the drama department, taking part in Yearly Meeting sessions, playing in the Yearly Meeting sponsored volleyball tournament, or maybe visiting a few friends who had graduated from high school and moved all of a mile to take classes at Fox.

And yes, Iím one of those who chose to move that grand mile. I wasnít sure where I wanted to go to college, until I visited Whitworth: it was in February during the flood season, I had a hole in my pair of ìgoodî shoes - needless to say, my experience wasnít pleasant, and I decided Fox would be a fine school for me. I knew the campus, I knew most of the staff (either attended my church or were my friendsí parents or both), I wouldnít have to go through that whole adjustment period - just slide on through.

College sucked. Really. I could try to paint it eloquently, talking about the defining times of going out on your own, learning to navigate the waters of living with others, spending hours of luxurious agony discerning my call in life. Basically: I didnít know what I wanted to do, I hated living with lots of girls (I mean, who would actually like it? All those hormones and baggage - both physical and emotional: gives me the willies just thinking about it), I was burned out from doing too many activities, I was freaking out that I didnít know what in the world to do with my life. So I spent my time skipping class, freaking out that Iíd flunk out, hanging out with folks who felt the same way, and feeling guilty that I was ìsquandering awayî my college experience (my mama worked her patootie off at Fox so I could go for free - see the levels of guilt I should feel?).

I managed to squeak out: oh, the nightmares I had before graduation. Itís not fun getting your diploma holder and not knowing if thereís actually one in there. I spent some time away from the rain drain that is Oregon. And yet I came back. To live in Oregon. To work. . . . at Fox. I was looking for something different to do with my life: either move or change jobs or something. My folks were kind enough to offer their abode while I sorted things out. I also happened to be dating a cute bass player who was living in Beaverton at the time, and we werenít sure where things were going with that, but itís a lot easier to figure out a few miles apart than a few states.

I got one job at Fox: it was amazing that I could find a job at all - Oregon still has quality levels of unemployment. It was working in the Security Office - definitely not my call in life, but something that brought in a paycheck while I could spend time doing other things, like planning a wedding (yeah, things did kinda work out with that bass player). And then I ìinheritedî a different job: my momís. She was going to be student teaching and needed to simplify her life. I applied for her job, and I got it - well, I got a job in the Admissions office supporting the Executive Director, which was one element of her job - the other elements got farmed out.

It was a great year: I loved working in that office. It wasnít necessarily my call in life, again (I donít know anyone whoís really called to balance budgets, but you never know), but I loved the community, had a great boss, and liked working so close to the home I shared with the bass player.

Then, lo and behold, a Little Bassplayer came along, I relinquished my job, and my husband ìinheritedî it - except it wasnít really my job at all: the director changed the position from being his assistant to being the IT guy for the Admissions office (heís a great boss - sacrificing for the greater good).

So I visit George Fox at least weekly, to see my bass player and his co-workers, to let the Little Bassplayer roam around the offices greeting people, to take advantage of my alumni library card, and to sit at the tables outside of the student union looking at the clock tower and being amazed at the amount of history I have with this location. Times have been good; times have been horrid; but they all are foundational in the person that I am today.

In a few short minutes, Iíll be taking my son to Yearly Meeting for the first time: taking him onto campus to start creating his own memories that we share together and yet experience differently. Iím excited.

I participated in a roundtable email discussion on doing church. Here is the article posted at Barclay Press.

Many people are talking these days about the ìemerging church.î In fact, Amazon.com has an ìemerging church storeî for resources on the topic. We can read as much as we could ever want about the definition of the emerging church in this postmodern age or the ìrightî styles of worship to engage this culture, but what about the people who are supposedly being reached by this movement? What do these ìfirst citizensî of the postmodern age think about the church?

In the following roundtable discussion young adults tell about their experience of the church, both the joys and the frustrations. All the participants are on the leading edge of this new culture shift. They are ambassadors, trying to build bridges between the church and a new culture, to communicate truth in both directions.

All have been a part of the church most of their lives, so they give an ìinsidersí viewî of who we are and where we might be heading.

What good memory do you have about the church? What provided a sense of connection and made you glad you were involved?

AJ: My favorite memories as a child are of church potlucks: the adults standing around socializing, the kids running amuck. I come from a small family, so my church gave me that sense of ìbig extended familyî that others get from blood relatives.

My favorite memory as an adult would be the Sunday that Judah, my son, was dedicated: All of our family plus high school and college friends as well as those whoíve been important in my single and married life (youth leaders, small group friends, etc.) were there, recognizing our desire to raise Judah up in the ways of Christ and offering their support to both Judah and us.

Jamie: The best memories are those that revolve around the sense of community that the church offers. Just recently Erin and I were stuck with a difficult decision we had to make, and our conversations with each other were cyclical, and really going nowhere. It was not until we began to involve our small group from church in the process that we started to sense clarity in the issue. They walked with us through each grueling step, and really became the voice of God to Erin and me. To go through challenges and suffering as a community provides the deepest connection possible with the larger community.

Willis: After months of youth group hopping, I had given up on finding a youth group ñ I wanted something real, not a show or popularity contest. One friend continued to invite me to his youth group; finally I just went to shut him up, thinking it would be the same as all the rest. To my great surprise, the leaders seemed sincerely interested in me and even more surprising the other youth seemed to care. There was something different about this group ñ and I was hooked.

Wess: The first six months of pastoring, we faced great adversity to the whole idea of a youth pastor. The good part of the memory is that my senior pastor showed true empathy for me and my to-be wife. He told me that he was there to help me get through it, andÖthat he believed in me as a minister, trusting that God had sent us to that body. His empathetic support has shaped the way I understand Christian ministryóand has challenged me to be Christlike in the way I lay my life down for my brother or sister who is in need of the compassionate love of Christ. The willingness to struggle with one another, the longsuffering of the community has for me shown the most promise, or the most failure.

Sandy: When my husband left my girls and me, the people in the church really put their arms around usÖ.they didnít give us answers, they just pointed us to Jesus and loved us. I was glad I was in the Friends Church at the time, because many other churches would not have let me continue to ìleadî or teach. When I think about connection, I also think about being in each otherís homes.

Michael: I have lots of good memories about my past in the church. Most of them have to do with family and friends; relationships. Music too I supposeósinging, playing my horn. I have some important memories of being made aware that people in the church were praying for me; sometimes people I didnít even know well. It is easy to feel connected when you feel loved. Hearing you are being prayed for is hearing you are loved.

Jill: One memory that comes to mind is a church meeting in the rural Mexican village of Teita, where my parents work as Bible translators. Juan played guitar and he and his younger sister sang with mics, and at first I was just cringing at the loud, off-key singing. The people around me were singing and clapping joyfully, and I realized how much my music knowledge was hindering me from truly enjoying worshiping God like these people. I felt pretty stupid, and finally was able to give that up and just sing. The whole meeting really challenged my ideas of what a church service should be like, as opposed to the American performance-oriented idea of looking and sounding good.

Joseph: I always enjoyed it when our pastor would dress up as a Bible character to give his sermon. I also have fond memories of having company over for lunch after church or going to another familyís house for lunch after church.

What is your ideal definition of ìchurchî?

AJ: Church isnít the building. It isnít the steeple. It is the people. Wherever Christians gather together, thatís church. Itís a lifestyle, not an activity. Itís a way of living, not a once-a-week event. I desire actual community. Iíd like to be in a community where no topic is taboo. Where we can discuss and engage in the ìhardî topics (sex, drinking, gay rights, other religions, all the American cultural hot topics) rather than seeing them in black and white ìthis is good/this is badî categories.

Iíd like to be in a community that cares about people other than themselves: proactive in getting into their immediate community and helping to meet emotional, spiritual, and physical needs. Iíd like to be in a community thatís okay experimenting with things in worship: lectio divina, ìemerging churchî style worship, traditional, etc. (when we cling to our worship styles, we worship the style rather than Godóitís become an idol). Iíd like to be in a place where I can study and learn from othersóa place thatís really into reading the Bible as a means of learning about God and being in relationship with God. Iíd like to be in a multigenerational community where the elders offer to mentor the youngers, and the youngers are given the ability to equally participate in the community.

Valerie: I think ìchurchî is ideal when it is smallerófor example, Bible studies or small groups. This is not to say that bigger church bodies are not good, but it has been my experience that spiritual growth is best nurtured in a small group of peopleÖsay between 4 and 12 people. I think it is where people are intimately connected both spiritually and personally, and show grace toward each other in that they allow each other to be who God made them as unique individuals.

Jamie: My ideal definition includes biblical teaching, with time to mull how God is leading us all to a further understanding of himself. We would be well-served as the church to understand the entire body of Christ, i.e. the communion of saintsóthose that have come before… as well as those of the present. And finally, we need an ability to look forward, to address the future needs of the church and culture, to be continually looking beyond the borders of the church.

My wife, Erin, and I just experienced church-searching about three years ago, so it is fresh in our memories. We wanted a place where we both could exercise our gifts and passions, a place that had need for the areas we felt we could assist. We also wanted a place that had biblical preaching, varied worship styles, and a wide variety of people involved in the community. And we wanted a place that felt like a community, where we felt welcomed, and where we felt we were a part of something greater than a weekly meeting.

Sandy: I think the ìchurchî is the whole body of those who believe in Christ. Ideally, we would trust Christís work in each other, remembering that it is Christ in us that leads us. We would work together in our different giftings, we would really believe that God gave us new, good hearts and that we could trust each otherís hearts, even when we made mistakes. We would be vulnerable, real, and humble.

Wess: The church is to be a people who listen, who live in mission, who worship Christ, and who are hospitable. Like AJ said, the church is a people, not a building, not an event, it is when my wife and I have friends over for dinner, eat and drink together, and share stories with one another, encouraging, challenging, and shaping one another.

I am looking for relationships within a small body of people, where people know me, where there is mutual trust and love, honest conflict and reconciliation, where we submit ourselves to the deeper narratives of our own tradition within the narrative of Christianity as a whole, where we not only study the scriptures, but the fathers and mothers of faith who have gone before us. I am looking for a body that is willing to gather in a living room, a bar, a coffee shop, a backyard, or even skid-row, people who are willing to get their hands dirty for Christ, who embody his mission statement located in Luke 4:17-19.

Jill: To me the church should be full of love, encouragement, challenge, and discipleship. It should be a place to learn my gifts and to use them, a setting in which to grow closer to God. It needs to be a community that gets past the outer show and traditions of the church, and seeks a true relationship with God.

AJ: I guess my desire is summed up with the idea that church should be a culture: something that defines my lifestyle, rather than just fills a Sunday morning.

Tell us more about ìchurch as cultureî rather than as a weekly event.

Wess: Jesus taught us to pray ìgive us our daily bread.î So the church community might seek a lifestyle change by saying ìhey, if we expect God to provide our basic needs, how can we make sure that we are providing for those in need around us? How can we make sure we are not taking the daily bread of others?î It is this kind of discourse and interpretation of scriptures into our daily context that helps us discern how the Spirit wishes for us to actually live out Christís teachings.

In my own experience, we tend to engage culture, but reject much of its value systems. For instance, our small group of 10-12 people understands God to be in all aspects of culture, so we donít create secular vs. sacred categories. We listen to Christian and non-Christian music, we watch movies of all sorts, we enjoy moderate drinking, we read non-Christian literature and look for God within the stories, we hang out in placesÖwhere there are many questionable characters and certainly much more questionable behavior. We try to have friends who are not believers, we look for God within all people, and the truth within all types of faith. Our critique of culture comes not just from what we say, but actually how we live. We feel we can best critique it from inside. This is a different approach to culture than much of American Christianity, which tends to buy into American values of individualism, patriotism, materialism, and capitalism, while vocally rejecting cultural morality.

AJ: I read a great book, The Continuing Conversion of the Church, which talked about the church being a culture, describing things I hadnít thought about before. By looking at the Old Testament we get to read about a culture created by God. This culture, or ìchurch,î dictated every aspect of their lives. While they wandered and didnít seem to have much of a ìnational homelandîî they remained true to the culture, the way of life that God gave them. However, the way I do church today fits into my American culture; my American culture has taken precedence over my Christian culture. It goes along with all the Barna statistics saying Christian Americans and non-Christian Americans live pretty similar lives (with divorce, how they spend money, etc.). Iíd say I mostly think of myself as a Christian American when I should be thinking of myself as an American Christian.

How do we break our addiction to the weekly gathering as being the fulfillment of church?

Wess: Partially this can be broken just by the way we talk about it. When I go to my favorite bar with my Christian brothers to have a fun but serious time of reflection and accountability, we talk about it in ìchurchî ways. We are meeting as an act of being in community together, bearing one anotherís burdens, and listening to each otherís stories, giving the love of Christ to each other. These things to me seem to be what is more important, rather than the time and location of where these things take place. Another aspect of this is when the church gathers to do something missionally, serving with one another. So we are doing church when we march for peace, when we speak out against systemic injustices in our own cities, towns, and neighborhoods, when we invite the homeless over for dinner, when we buy clothes for a single mother who doesnít have a job, etc. Naming these activities as ìchurchî helps train us to see it that way.

Valerie: Our attitude about the church, how we view it, makes a difference. Do we see it only as something to be consumed, so to speak, or do we see it as a way we give of ourselves?

AJ: It is apparent that God wants us to ìgo out.î Christ spent most of his time teaching and healing othersómoving among the people. He gathered folks together for times of community (usually eating)óbut the goal seemed to be encouraging and equipping them to move out.

If a church is rooted in Scripture, is practicing the spiritual disciplines, is spending time one on one with God, I think itíd be hard to stay internalóthereíd be a restlessness, a discontent.

I think Gen X/Y recognizes that there needs to be more than an ìaddiction to inward-focused worship gatheringsî; that thereís more out there, like helping neighbors and making a differenceóbeing an advocate. In churches where the addiction isnít broken, these generations tend to leave the church.

Where does your current church experience fall short or even frustrate your attempts to be part of that ideal church?

Willis: From my perspective the traditional church appears, to the postmodern Christian, to be non-transparent (hiding the ìundesirableî), where the emerging church seems too ìfeelings-basedî for the modernist. While there may be truth to both sides, I feel confident that there is a middle ground. Unfortunately, I donít see much of an attempt from either side to be vulnerable to the other.

AJ: I feel like many of our resources are used to maintain the ìchurchî: keep the building going, pay for staff, offer Bible studies and groups that never go ìoutward.î Itís not a natural cultural structureÖitís a business structure. I feel this style isnít necessarily the best or most efficient use of our resources, but folks feel frightened or threatened byÖdealing with an ìunknown structure.î Also, the generations are segregated: children in childrenís church, youth in youth group, college groups areÖlacking, and adults (usually families) do ìadult/familyî stuff.

I donít always feel comfortable sharing or being honest. I have that whole ìgotta look like I have it togetherî pride thing going on. I donít necessarily feel like thereís a place to talk about the ìhard stuff,î for me or other hurting people. And Iím not sure people feel like they can be ìhealed upî at the church: they feel like theyíve got to have [it] together before they walk in the door.

Sandy: It is always a battle to be vulnerable with one another. Even though our group is small, it is hard to make time for everyone to share when they need to.

Jill: One thing that has frustrated me is the churchís outward emphasis on performance, especially regarding the music programs (which Iíve been very involved in and enjoy). A lot of times they seem to take the place of the congregation worshiping together.

Joseph: There is a lack of connection at my current church. While Iíve been attending for close to two years, I still feel like a visitor every Sunday unless I am somehow involved in the service.

Wess: We could do much better about seeking to live more missionally within my city. Though we try much more than any church I have been a part of, there is much to be said for a church that corporately makes a stand within a city for issues on things like poverty and justice for immigrants. Also, we could be much better about discipling and gathering people to the body, creating disciples who are committed to being a part of the community and a radical vision.

Where do you sense hope regarding your definition of ìchurchîÖeither in your church or in the culture in general?

Joseph: Actually, I am not very hopeful. I donít believe the church was meant to exist in a cultural context in which it was not in tension with the society around it. In America, the church often seems to align itself with the government and/or the culture, striving to fit with these structures. I find myself drawn to churches that do not use their surrounding culture as a measuring stick of their success, such as home churches or the Orthodox church.

Willis: I see God working within individualsí lives. I hear peopleís testimony to the call that God has placed on their lifeóto help the church transition to meet the needs of a changing culture. I see lives being transformed by the power of Christ, and those people banding together to serve, perhaps in nontraditional ways and with nontraditional methods but to the glory of God.

AJ: I sense a desire in my church to be more transparent with each other, to share openly and honestly: in open worship, in small groups. People are beginning to share their honest stories and experiences, adding it to the ìcollective wisdom.î One of the most treasured experiences Iíve had in church came from my participation in a small group called ìCompanions in Christîóit was a 28-week course going through spiritual formation material. We took about eight months to get through it, a multigenerational group from all walks of life. I connected with folks that I never wouldíve even said hello to, and we walked together through some pretty important times of our lives.

I sense a desire for folks to continue worshiping and living this out through their weekónot to be ìeventî based, but to make it a lifestyle.

Jamie: I see hope in the fact that churches can bridge cultural gaps in a way that is hard in ordinary settings. Culturally, I also carry a lot of hope. I feel that Christians are beginning to infiltrate certain sectors in which they have had little influence in the past. Academia, arts, and politics are just a few.

Michael: It seems like the ìinstitutionî of my church is intentionally designed to allow people to find where they fit. Thatís a good thing. There are many opportunities for folks to ìministerî through their personal gifts. I play my horn with the brass group. I help with the Alpha program. I build supportive relationships in a small group and more.

I think we are just starting to realize that our place in the world is to build loving relationships, and that one role of the church is to enable each other to do that. These loving relationships are often the worldís first glimpse of a relationship with Christ and they take many forms. I am encouraged to see us realize that ìwhat weíve always doneî may not be what the Spirit wants us to be doing now.

Sandy: I see a desire for shared life in our home meeting, which seems to be the only way to learn each otherís giftings and hearts. I see a group of people who are choosing to allow ourselves to need each other.

What could your faith community do better to connect with its surrounding culture?

Willis: Develop programs to actually make contact and begin relationship buildingÖas well as deliberately learn the cultures around the area.

AJ: I think my faith community could work on being a resource, both for the community of folks who need help (physically, emotionally, and mentally) and for the folks that attendóequip them to be missionaries in their daily lives. Perhaps provide specific times to use the spiritual disciplines in seeking Godís will for the church or individuals to move.

Wess: There are many things we could do better, we could be more faithful in our own lifestyle, we could be less wasteful, we could share more, and be more generous with those around us. I struggle with hospitality, and letting people be who they are without wanting to force change upon them. But one big struggle we deal with is the need to be around more non-Christians.

Joseph: The first step is to understand our surrounding culture and to invite it into relationship with us. We must step out of what we are comfortable with in worship and in outreach and shift our focus to meet othersí needs rather than our own. I think prayer is a significant first step. As a church prays for the needs of those around it, not only will they be led to action but they will be connected with one another in their pursuit of this action. If churches were willing to be less Sunday-centered and more outward focused in worship and ministry, then I think changes would occur.

In summary, our roundtable felt that

* ìchurchî is more than an event. It should be a lifestyle…a way of interacting with others and a way of viewing the world. Meaningful gatherings, regardless of the time or location or size, are crucial.

* ìchurchî is a place where we should be needed. Not to fill a slot that any warm body can fill, but a place where the uniqueness of each person fills a unique place in the Body.

* ìchurchî is about relationships, which includes confrontation, healing, fun, vulnerability, authenticity, longsuffering. Post-boomers have a deep need for family…and are redefining what that looks like.

* ìchurchî includes food and eating together! Actually, ìtable fellowshipî was a huge part of the early church and had more significance than just a ìpotluck.î There seems to be a growing desire for sharing food as a way of celebration and connection.

* ìchurchî does not require a specific style of worship. A specific style wasnít even mentioned by our interviewees. Perhaps much of the current energy being focused on ìpostmodern worship stylesî is misplaced. Not only is the church ìserviceî less significant in their overall definition of ìchurch,î but the tempo didnít seem to be an issue.

Todayís emerging generations want healthy, authentic relationships that integrate the whole of their lives: spiritual and secular, serious and fun, work and celebration. They are drawn to gatherings that are less scripted and allow for good interaction and sharing. They have a loving heart for Christís body, and desire to see it be vital, making an impact in the lives of those involved as well as those outside its web of commitment. Format matters less than authenticity, even ìtraditionalî approaches meet their needs if there are caring relationships and good communication.

Iíve been pondering the idea of writing a book . . . it might be an allegory, it might be a novel, it might be a short story or a poem or a rambling dialogue.

What would it look like if the pastors disappeared? Just gone . . . off the face of the earth.

ñ would more step in to fill their shoes, doing things exactly the same?
ñ if they did things the same, would it be because these things are right/authentic, or would they feel like theyíre faking it? Keeping up appearances?
ñ would something completely different emerge?
ñ would people split between the norm and the new?
ñ would people feel free to engage in something new, a sort of blank slate?

Would people step up, or would church just fade away . . . or at least, the church as we know it?

I love my coffee mug. Itís big and pretty - oversized, black, with two faces etched on it. Itís a mug that says, ìOooh, Iîm artistic! Creativity flows about me like honey.î (See how artistically I can write? It must be the mug). Funny thing about it is that it doesnít usually hold coffee: itís so large that by the time I see the bottom, the coffeeís cold and less than appealing. Generally it holds water, because for some reason I find lukewarm water more palatable than lukewarm coffee.

Each day I get up, fix my breakfast (low carb eggo waffles, cottage cheese, and fruit as of late), and warm up a mug full of water. A friend of mine once told me that caffeineís not what wakes people up - itís the warmth of the beverage. While I canít completely get on board with that theory (I know Iíve gotten quite a few buzzes off of iced mochas), I have found that a hot drink certainly helps start the day off on a right foot.

The mug is a gift, perhaps one of my most prized gifts, from my brother. He got it for me while on a high school field trip to Ashland, Oregon, home of the well-known, artsy fartsy Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

In my experience high school was a real drag - not a lot of redeeming aspects: state winning water polo and wrestling teams (a sport that you canít really see whatís going on, and a sport that you probably donít want to see whatís going on), national attention for the senior prank involving filling the gym with road kill, an open building facility in the ever-soggy Northwest . . . you get the picture.

But one redeeming activity was Mr. Plantzís annual trip to Ashland. He taught sophomore English (the highlight for him being the baseball unit. How does baseball fit into English? Thatís one I still ponder). Each year heíd load up a bus of 40+ people to head down to southern Oregon for three days of plays, wandering the town, and general merriment. Priority was given to the upperclassmen, but sometimes the humble sophomores could sneak in.

Weíd see three plays: usually one was blah, one was okay, and one was fantastic. Thereís nothing like sitting in the second row, getting spit on as actors from ìTwelfth Nightî engage in their witty Shakespearean banter that pretty much went over our heads but weíd laugh with the audience accordingly to keep up the appearance of ìyouthful sophistication.î Watching Tom Stoppardís ìArcadiaî I felt . . . smart: like a secret door in my noggin had been opened that held a bounty of treasure and knowledge . . . but then it closed after we made a Safeway trip and almost sent ourselves into a Fun Dip coma. I loved going to Ashland because for the first time I caught a glimpse of what it might be like to be an adult - not to be ruled by your hormonal emotions, to engage in substantial culture, to experience freedom and fun and be an individual.

When the time came, my brother too took advantage of the lucrative perk of attending our high school. As he took off for his trip, I told him what a fantastic time he would have and, of course, that he should buy me a gift. I donít know that I ever got him anything when I went to Ashland; but at the time of the request, I was in college and believed that Copernicusís theory should be revoked, because in fact, the world actually revolved around me. It was mostly a joke (getting me a gift; not the world-revolution thing) because what high schooler really wants to spend money on his bratty college sister? But he did: he got me my mug. And it was the best present ever.

See, my brother and I didnít do a whole lot together as kids. We shared the same parents, occupied the same address, ate at the same table (occasionally before we wore down Momís will to eat at the table and instead moved to eating around our glowing friend television); but really my brother and I lived separate lives. We didnít share friends; personally, I got the distinct impression that he would prefer I didnít talk to his friends. Much as the high school quarterback father expects his son to follow in his footsteps, I assumed my brother would like to do the activities I enjoyed: youth group, newspaper, yearbooks, etc. I wasnít respecting him as an individual, that he had desires and interests of his own. My brotherís not one to do things because others want him to, so donít worry that I oppressed him: heís far too stubborn to be oppressed (a ìproudî family trait).

Going to Ashland mightíve meant more to my brother that it did to me. In high school I worked in theatre doing backstage stuff (didnít have the confidence or belief that anyone would want to see me attempt to act), but my brother is an *actor*. He had parts - major parts - funny parts: he was *good*. Heís acted, heís directed, heís sang in a musical and had to dress up in womenís clothing (I think thatís the sign that youíve made it in the theatre world). Heís won awards and the praises of countless folks: people still tell me how funny he is . . . and that was over five years ago!

Going to Ashland was one thing that we shared, that we both enjoyed. He too had his own adventures with his friends, wandering in and out of too many shops, feeding the swans, drinking the nasty water at Lithia Park, being amazed at the sets and actors and scripts and all that goes into putting on a play. And while he was there, he took the time to think about me, to get me a gift - a thoughtful gift, not some free hotel soap, something that he thought was cool and that Iíd like. And he was right: I love my mug, not so much for how cool it is (it *is* awfully pretty and holds an excellent amount of liquids), but because it came from a time when my brother and I shared something. Danke, Bubba.

During these past 27 trips around the sun Iíve gotten to partake of a number of roles on the spinning ball of earth. Iíve been a daughter, a wife, a student, a coffee maker, a librarian (almost), an assistant, a ropes course instructor, an elevator-operator girl. But the most recent role Iíve engaged in, the role that has perhaps stretched me the most and continues to day-by-day, moment-by-moment . . . is that of a mother.

For ten months Iíve had the pleasure (and sometimes pain) of entangling my life with that of a rapidly changing, oftentimes illogical, completely self-centered, full of wonders and feelings and poop and delights Little Person. Lifeís a precarious balance of meeting his needs while not neglecting mine: respecting him as a person but giving him limits and freedoms; recognizing that while he came from me, he is not me - he is his own person, and my privilege is to walk alongside him and equip him to encounter this great wide world.

With the arrival of the Little Man pictured above, I joined the ranks of countless others who have engaged in the art and skill of parenting, which is just a tricky way of saying that I learned that the world no longer revolves around me ñ it revolves around him. Iíve heard it said that Christ talks about dying to self (I donít think He come right out and says it - thatíd be a way to kill a movement in five seconds flat. When talking about things that make us squirm, he seemed to think it best to paint a picture, tell a story, so that people could sit and reflect. And then when Heí was safely up in heaven, it hit them: ìWait a minute . . . he didnít *really* mean . . . ?). Ií thought I understood that concept; but, nothing hammers it home like attempting to parent.

In the picture Judahís being assaulted by my favorite coffee mug. Actually, he tore the empty mug from my hands and started rolling around with it - quite a feat since itís about the size of his noggin. If you know me well, you know that this mug is sacred: itís a gift from my beloved brother, and it is to be used only by me. While I can convey the importance of not touching the mug to logical creatures, the Little Man could care less: if Ma has it, I must have it, for we are the same being.

For a while it turned into a grand game: Judah sneaking up on the mug while my back was turned, throwing it on the floor with a grand ìthunkî, and rubbing his drool-dripping mouth all over it. Then came his favorite part: my reaction. Weíd wrestle, heíd grab, Iíd grab and tell him to knock it off. Iíd place it back on the table, and the game would begin again. Somehow he didnít grasp that it was mine: hands off!

No matter how desperately I want him to realize the sanctity of leaving another personís stuff alone if they politely ask and itís not an emergency (for instance, if there was a small fire, Iíd be perfectly fine with the borrowing of the mug: virtuous uses of the mug are acceptable), itís not going to happen. He is all about him self - his world - his experience - him. Not to mention, he doesnít even recognize that Iím a separate person: to him, I could be just another play thing. And how silly is it for one play thing to not want you to use another play thing? Toys, the world is full of his toys.

So I had to have a talk with my self. ìTalullah,î I said (I think my self should be called Talullah - itís easier to talk to your self when a name is involved. Otherwise, you just sound crazy). ìIt ainít gonna happen. You gotta just let it go.îî I realized that I couldnít argue with Judah, I couldnít use logic. Either my son could take the mug and I could get pissy, or my son could take the mug and I could let it go - the only factor I had the power to change (besides always drinking upstairs where Judah canít get me, although he does enjoy picketing at the bottom of the blocked-off stairs) was myself. I had to let some things go, to die . . . you might say.

Itís a baby step: just as Judah learns to take baby steps walking around the apartment, Iím learning to take baby steps in releasing my self-centered world, in learning what parenting entails, in living as a child of God. Each day is, in the famous words of Bob Wiley, ìbaby steps to four oíclock. Baby steps to four oíclock.î And so I post a picture in a reminder of the little steps Iím taking in becoming less self-centered and more Christ-centered.

Now when Judah attempts to bond with my laptop . . . well, boundaries have to be drawn *somewhere*, yes?

Today’s teaching at our worship gathering was on listening:

Let me set this before you as plainly as I can. If a person climbs over or through the fence of a sheep pen instead of going through the gate, you know he’s up to no good–a sheep rustler! The shepherd walks right up to the gate. The gatekeeper opens the gate to him and the sheep recognize his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he gets them all out, he leads them and they follow because they are familiar with his voice. They won’t follow a stranger’s voice but will scatter because they aren’t used to the sound of it. - John 10:1-5 (MSG)

Our pastor actually spent time watching sheep this week. He went out to a congregation member’s farm and videotaped trying to interact with the sheep: while the sheep would come right up to the owner - even follow him around for food -, they ran in terror if the pastor tried to approach them. He talked about discerning the voice of God versus the voice of strangers/the world - how we don’t always know how to distinguish them. But when we do, we should act like sheep: cling to the shepherd, flee enemies, etc. Some folks get frustrated because they don’t know what the voice of the Lord sounds like, but he commented that “while sheep know the voice of the shepherd, even lambs have to learn it.”

After service I promptly went to pick my son up from the nursery: it’s one of the few places I know that is actually busier than he is. He threw himself into my arms, and as we were walking out to the car, an older gentleman asked me if my son knew my voice. I said, “Yes, but I don’t know if he really cares.”

See, one of my son’s favorite activities is to destroy the cds lined up on my cd holder. I’m a former librarian and have always been anal by nature: every thing should be in its place so it’s easier to find. CDs should be alphabetized for easy access: it’s simply logical. However, my son thinks it’s quite grand to take all the cds off of the shelf and bang them together. Time after time he heads to the corner to engage in what he considers “play” and I consider “destruction.” When I shout for him to “knock it off!”, he does - literally (an unfortunate choice of words). He smiles as me and scurries to knock cds as quickly as he can to the floor.

I read a parenting article discussing possible theories for “why does he *do* that?!!?” One person voiced the idea that children do things to get a reaction: they’re “bored” and want some stimulation - what can we do to get the adults jumping? So now instead of getting all excited, I calmly tell Judah to “cease and desist” with the cds, removing him to a different area.

He hears my voice, he knows it . . . but he’s looking for something more. He’s looking for a reaction: the reaction *he* wants. How many times to I hear the voice of God, know the voice, but act differently because I’m looking for a reaction? I ask for God to forgive my sins, to help me in a certain situation, to give me guidence - but if He doesn’t jump when I say jump, I assume He’s not talking or doesn’t mean it or just go about my merry little way to destroy the cds.

So, the tricky thing is to listen and actually *hear* God, despite the filters of the world and my personal preferences. How do I authentically hear God and respect His voice?

From the Barclay Press Conversation Cafe:

ìAllez! Cuisine!î my husband, Jason, exclaimed. On a Sunday evening this could mean only one thing: ìIron Chefî was on! This Japanese knock-off program pits Food Network chefs against guest chefs in a cooking competition. ìThe Secret Ingredientî is revealed (eggs, mushrooms, buffalo, etc.) and must be incorporated into four courses prepared within one hour of the utterance ìAllez! Cuisine!î (French for ìGo! Kitchen!î). As Battle Trout began, I plopped down on the love seat; but rather than wondering how to incorporate fish in a dessert, I was thinking about Doing Church.

Where have all the youth gone?
These thoughts began percolating a few months ago while I sat in church. I looked around and noticed I was one of the youngest folks present. My high school youth group had had a number of attendees: Where did they all go? I contacted a few and heard a number of explanations: ìIím too busyî or ìOh, I used to be spiritual, but my beliefs have changedî or ìI canít find a church that I like.î One thing remained clear: My peers no longer attended church. Ten years ago we all were passionate about Doing Churchówhat happened? Was our excitement just a hormonally induced phase that passes away like acne and lack of coordination? Or is there a deeper problem?

Jason voiced his desire for a grill pan while my thoughts drifted to a recent sermon series looking at Acts. The ìFounding Fathersî of the churchóPeter, Paul, the earliest disciplesólived difficult lives, but lives of giddy joy and constant activity. Their testimonies are bold, passionate like a Pancetta & Parmesan torte, particularly compared to my current lackluster experience of Kraft Easy Mac. How did they stay so upbeat, so energized while Doing Church? How did they balance worship gatherings, committee meetings, school, home, workólife? Did they not become ìchurched outî? I sure did.

My early experience with church
My childhood church bustled with activity with my family in the middle of the action. My parents participated in Sunday school, potlucks, committee meetings, bell choir, backpacking trips. I loved congregating after service: Adults gabbed while kids ran around hopped up on sugar cookies and red Kool-aid. Like going to school, the library, or the grocery store, Doing Church was a regular event in our week.

Parents of adolescents joke about sending their kids off to a remote island until the hormone roller coaster subsides; if their church has a youth group, this wish is granted. In high school I was ìshipped offî to Do Church with my friends. In this segregated state we mimicked Doing Church the way our parents had: participating in camps, mission trips, and Bible studies while balancing school, family, and life in general.

Once through the leprous state of adolescence, I assumed Iíd rejoin the larger church collective. This never happened; there wasnít a reason to. Spending time solely with my peers left me unfamiliar with participants in the larger church gathering. Weary of trying to fit in the multitude of activities with my already bustling life, I burned out and barely set foot in a sanctuary for eight years.

The early church
What was different between my experience and that of the disciples? I thought about the early church in Acts.

* They worshiped, focusing on Christ rather than on themselves.
* They taught and equipped the congregation, both spiritually and vocationally.
* They lived in community, pooling their resources, helping the poor and wounded.
* They ate together (all ages and walks of life), sharing in each otherís daily journeys.
* They discerned Godís will through the use of the spiritual disciplines.

I did many of these things: Was it something deeper?

The television blared outófive minutes remained. As the chefs creatively plated their courses to gain presentation points, I realized I could never be an Iron Chef. Creative cooking is a recreational activity: Iím not familiar enough with the culinary world to improvise recipes. But for the Iron Chefs, cooking is their culture, their way of life, their everything.

Then I realized the difference between me and the apostles. Their actions didnít stem from Doing Church; they flowed out of Being Church.

The apostlesí culture was uniquely dictated by Godónot just worship, but the nitty-gritty everyday details of life: how to live, eat, take care of the land, treat each other. Church wasnít a weekly activity; church dictated their culture.

Iíve experienced the opposite. American culture is driven with activities: A productive life is marked with checklists for work, family life, free time. The church, as a part of a culture based on ìlife, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,î looks much different from the church of a culture centered on loving ìthe Lord your God with all your heartÖsoulÖmind andÖstrength.î

God created an elaborate plan for worldwide redemption through the creation of a very specific God-centric culture. Has his intentional and detailed plan changed? Has God released me to incorporate his teachings, his light, his love into my nation-oriented culture? Or does God desire that I continue in the tradition of the Jews, living a God-directed holistic life as exemplified by Christónot a way of doing, but a way of being?

Reentry for me
My reacquaintance with the church came through participating in a small group testing spiritual formation material. Folks from all walks and ages of life made up our group, meeting weekly to discuss our experiences with the exercises and to engage in different spiritual disciplines. I no longer felt ìsegregatedî to a group of peers, but rather ìincorporatedî in a group with layers of wisdom and depth of experiences. We shared snacks, our life journeys, our daily joys and hardships. Using the spiritual disciplines (prayer, Bible study, and meditation among others) enabled God to equip us in engaging culture in our practical, everyday lives.

Like the early church, we worshiped, taught, committed to being in an intergenerational community, engaged in daily activities like eating together, discerned Godís direction for our individual and corporate lives. For the first time my activities were a result of being connected and anchored in Godís love, being Christ-centered rather than self-centeredóBeing Church.

I felt called to go outward and share this news with others. First I reimmersed myself in traditional church by attending Sunday service. Then, I found an internal desireóto share that we donít have be burned out by Doing Church. I wanted to let others know what I had found, what the apostles had found: a joyful renewal in having our actions flow out of Being Church.

Time was up, the announcer exclaimed; all kitchen utensils were laid aside. The chefs stood next to the judges as their creations were tasted. Responses varied: yummy noises, scrunched-up faces, curious looks as the judges sampled unusual tastes and textures.

The Iron Chefís final dish was trout ice cream. Trout ice cream! That canít possibly be a dessert, I thought. But itís true: The commentator listed the requirements for a dish to be called ice cream: cream, milk, sugar, and a certain percentage of fat, frozen to a particular consistency. If it contains those elements, it can be ice cream. But you wouldnít find me trying it (and I really like ice cream).

A similar attitude can creep in regarding different forms that Being Church might take. God is so amazingly creative: He doesnít do the same thing twice. Being Church naturally follows in that vein. From simple house churches to megachurches to traditional institutional churches, a million different ways abound to which God could call his people in Being Church. Each manifestation will not resonate with me. If it contains the critical elements (a particular consistency modeled by the early church), itís church; just a different church for different taste buds.

The Iron Chef won as he tends to do. Battle Trout came to a close, and I breathed a prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord that he wants to Be with me; that I might be able to Be Church to my friends, my peers, the rest of the world; that God shows me how my Christian-cultural need to Be Church can supercede my American-cultural predisposition to Do Church; that I could eat coffee rather than trout ice cream.

Queries

* What activities do you associate with church? Which ones do you participate in? Do they fit within the criteria, the ìparticular consistency,î modeled by the early church?

* Why do you participate in activities within the church? Are they a habit? A cultural expectation? A call from God? Do you find joy in doing them?

* Do you feel like you are Doing Church or Being Church? What would Being Church look like to you? Have you spent time discerning this, both individually and corporately?

* Do you have a spirit willing to accept that not all expressions of Being Church will resonate with you? Will you allow God to show you how to recognize and respect these ìdifferent styles for different taste budsî?

From the March 2005 Northwest Yearly Meeting Connection

Itís Sunday morning, and a young woman arrives to worship earlier than usual. Opening a case, she pulls out her instrument to warm up with the other worship leaders. She attends a progressive, nondenominational church in an urban area.

Elsewhere a person briskly walks down the cold Midwest streets to unlock a studio. She turns on the heat, pulls out mats, and plays calming music just as her first student arrives. She leads a weekly yoga class to pay her way through graduate school.

In another part of the world a young man and his bride wake up to the sounds of the open market bustling outside of their window. They rise, quickly eat a simple breakfast, and begin again their quest to find local jobs. They head up a nondenominational missions outreach, working and living asìlocalsî rather than being supported as missionaries.

What do these folks have in common? Ten years ago they attended the high school level of Samuel School, a retreat opportunity for youth who have been noted by their local meeting to have leadership potential. Some Samuel School attenders worship at a Friends meeting; these individuals do not. Has that training, the investment of the Friends church, gone to waste?

What if the worship leader introduces quiet, introspective songs learned at Youth Yearly Meeting?

What if the yoga leader voices the idea of making room for Christ during the meditative times rather than emptying the mind?

What if the young man ministers by practicing the Quaker values of gender equality and social justice as he works in his tentmaker occupation? These individuals are Christian Quaker leaders: they may not look like pastors/teachers, and it may not be at a Friends meeting, but they daily live out Christ-centered Quaker values they hold so dear.

These leaders moved to where they heard a need. Have you, as a local meeting, voiced your needs in a way that challenges such leaders to hear and respond according to their unique talents and worldview?

Greetings~

The above statement came from an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Worf’s son and Troi’s mom were enjoying a holodeck program with rather odd characters: two of them fought all the time, and another simply said random, meaningless phrases such as “the higher, the fewer.” Troi’s mom commented, “Well, that’s a conversation stopper if I ever heard one.” Worf’s son promptly took off, said it to the arguing pair, and it worked: their bickering ceased.

I’ve often used this to end emails, sign off on letters - because what’s there to say after that? However, with this website, I hope not to stop, but to *begin*:

• talking about things that *really* matter in life - spirituality, everyday nitty gritty stuff
• highlighting articles, books, websites, resources: be a librarian for my specialties and interests
• posting articles and writings I’m working on: short stories, theological babblings, devotional materials
• offering my experiences, help, thoughts in any way possible: be it around missional/incarnational living, attracting young adults to your worship gathering, writing in your everyday existence, creating space to encounter and follow the Spirit’s direction
• connecting people and resources together: why do stuff alone when we can do it together?

So please, look at - critique - add to - comment on - contribute to - scour - enjoy my website. I look forward to connecting with you!