Last week was the hundred-somethingth annual session of Northwest Yearly Meeting.  My knowledge of the number of times our yearly meeting has gathered may tell you the amount I was able to participate.  Things like broken water mains and fussy children and upset tummies and life in general just seem to get in the way.  Yes, there was childcare, but I liked the folks in there too much to drop off a “I’m one and trying out my terrible twos a little early just to warm up to them” son.  Instead, I watched (some of) the evening sessions online thanks to my hubby and my hubby’s coworker’s streaming computer and my hubby’s other coworker’s camera that streamed to the computer that came over the fiber optics that entered into my computer that drowned out the sound of the “Mega Truck Adventures” playing on the tv.  I also read lots of Facebook statusi regarding the challenging, encouraging words Tony Campolo shared.

One day my dad and I carpooled to campus to go to our respective meetings while my gracious mother was watching the boys.

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Dad:  “So, you’ll meet me back at the car?”

Me:  “What time are you meeting with your group?”

Dad:  “4:30”

Me:  “Why don’t you just go back home when you’re done?  Then I’ll meet up with Jason and we can get food and take it home.”

Dad:  “I thought the reason we carpooled was so that your mother have a car to bring into town with the boys to meet us for dinner.”

Me:  “Oh, yeah.”

Dad (insert exasperated face):  “What do you want me to do?” (my mother, and brother, and potentially Dad’s coworkers will recognize that face and tone  :D).

Me:  “Well, yeah.  I guess I’ll just meet you at the car!”

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Me calling Jason:  “Okay, so I’m here and going to my meeting.”

Jason:  “Okay.”

Me:  “Mom’s home with the boys.  Dad and I carpooled so that Mom can come into town with the boys and we can go out to eat.  But I was thinking we should just take food home.”

Jason:  “Okay.”

Me, distracted looking at the enormous tree laying down in the middle of campus with all the caution tape draped around it:  “So why don’t you meet me when your meeting’s done outside of my meeting’s room.  We tend to run over.”

Jason:  “Okay.  Where are you?”

Me:  “EHS 102.  The Lecture Hall.  You know, the same room that the Board of Evangelism met in for years and years.”

Jason:  “Oh.”

Me:  “Yeah, way to break the ties with that old board, eh?”  (The Board of Local Outreach, or BOLO, oversees many of the areas that the BoE oversaw.  But they *aren’t* the same board.  Nope, not at all).

Jason:  “Okay.”

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Me, hustling over to Dad’s car, parked way in the boonies (and for anyone who wonders, the boonies are located in the Ross parking lot on the farthest parking row a number of spaces back from the building, because my meeting went over):  “Hey Dad, been waiting long?”

Dad:  “Nope.”

Me:  “So I called Mom and said we’d just bring dinner home so she doesn’t have to load up the boys.  What do you want?”

Dad:  “Mexican.”

Me:  “Okay, let’s go to the restaurant to order.”

Dad:  “So I have a question for you:  is the symbol for the Yearly Meeting a tree?”

Me:  “Uh, yeah, I think so.  I know they have a new graphic.  Jason would know;  he does all that website stuff.”

Dad:  “Okay.  So now I have another question for you:  did you see that big tree that fell over in the middle of campus?”

Me:  “Yeah, I was thinking how doofy that was of Plant Services to take that down in the middle of Yearly Meeting.  I mean, hello:  people all around!”

Dad:  “Did you know that it fell down?  In the middle of a business meeting?”

Me:  “No, I had no idea.”

Dad:  “So, I read this book a little while back called, ‘If This Were A Dream, What Would It Mean?‘ talking about how when strange events happen in our dreams, we oftentimes will accredit that to God speaking to us.  But what about strange events happening in waking life?  We usually disregard that.  But if we pay attention to the symbols, if we ask the question, maybe we’ll recognize that God’s speaking to us.”

Me:  “Huh.”

Dad:  “So, a tree falls in the middle of the business meeting:  not just *falls*, but splits in two with half still standing.  The Yearly Meeting’s symbol is a tree.  If this were a dream, what would it mean?”

Me:  “Uh, my writing/lit mind has a few ideas, but I’m not sure. (And I didn’t say it, but I was scared to answer, because it might reveal my inferior mortal conclusions).  Do you?

Dad:  “I don’t know.  I’m just asking the question!”

Me:  “Well, I should probably call Jason and ask him what he wants for dinner first.”

Dad:  “Okay.”

Me, calling:  “Hey, we’re getting Mexican.  What do you want?”

Jason:  “You must’ve gotten out early.”

Me:  “Nope, ran long.  Why?”

Jason:  “Well, I didn’t see you come out.”

Me:  “You were there?  Oh, yeah . . . .”

(I hope there’s not a message from the Spirit in that . . . )  🙂

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So, what do you think about my dad’s question?  If that were a dream, what would it mean?

This weekend Jason and I got a break from our little Turbo Tyke while he spent the night at Jason’s sister’s house. Did we spend our time staying up late, going out to dinner, enjoying long strolls, dancing until the wee hours, going to hear cool speakers like Brian McLaren, playing video games until dawn? Not so much. Instead, we both attended our respective boards: it was Northwest Yearly Meeting’s annual MidYear Boards. Jason presented an introduction to the new Yearly Meeting website; I tried to keep Trey and Shawn from distracting Jason by praying to “Dear 8 pounds 6 ounces baby Jesus, new born, not even spoken a word yet” during the presentation.

I must admit: I had a bad attitude going into the weekend. Thanksgiving and gratitude were not the top characteristics of my demeanor. The boards have been reorganized, and very few folks know what’s going on, especially with regards to my board (Local Outreach). Seriously: we looked at the budget, trying to make budget plans for 2008, and could barely figure out what we were spending money on this year, much less try to dream about what sorts of funds we’d need in a year plus. We could dream up all sorts of programs and resources, but if it’s not what the faith communities *really* need, then what’s the point? Who are our faith communities we’re serving/representing anyway? A number of us questioned about being on the board: should we just go back home and work in areas we can actually be useful in?

But I think we can all be useful: we can share our stories from our worship gatherings, our local areas, our past experiences. We can call out themes and leadings we see happening locally and Yearly Meeting-wide. If only we can stay awake during our meetings (man, they’re long).

The conversation of “numbers” came up multiple times. For some folks, hearing “numbers means growth” is a practical, linear statement: healthy organisms grow. For others, it makes them remember attractional experiences when they were brought into the church and left out to dry: “They kept hammering, ‘Bring your friends!’ into my head, but why would I do that when *my* needs weren’t even being met? Why would I bring friends there to be hungry like me?” The communication issue grew with the folks who’ve had good experiences with growing numbers: “We bring them to Christ. We disciple them. We help them grow, in practical ways such as budgeting and in spiritual ways such as prayer and healing. They in turn bring their friends because needs are being met.” They were talking about the same thing, but the words cause major blockage.

One of my blockage markers: “We need to grow Quaker churches.” I know: how could that be a block for a ‘raised in the Quaker church’ girl such as myself? I must be honest: I don’t care about growing Quaker churches. I care about furthering God’s Kingdom, calling folks into Kingdom living, whatever that may look like. Again, the board was divided: it was somewhat fun to have the Area Superintendent in on our conversation at that point: he really cares about growing Quaker churches. Before the furrowed brows became too engraved, a friend spoke up, noting that he does enjoy the Quaker tradition, but he thinks of the distinctives “not as some sort of trophies or awards or plaques to display on the wall, but rather tools we use to indwell/embody Christ to others.”

And that made my weekend totally worth it.

For the past few years I have been a member of the Northwest Yearly Meeting of Friends Churches’ Board of Evangelism. Sounds a bit odd for someone who spouts off about doing church in new and creative ways, eh? When I was in a very much seeker phase (not fully connected with my church, not sure if I wanted to be connected with a church), a friend advertised openings on the board. He was employed by the board, and since I really respected the sort of stuff he was doing (discernment, leadership development), I figured: hey! This could be interesting.

And it has been. The glow and infatuation with my first foray into the Adult Yearly Meeting World turned to confusion with bits of frustration and apathy thrown in for good measure.

“Yay! I’m in a place where I can be effective and helpful in offering gifts and really doing God’s work at a bigger level!”

“Wait. We just sat through eight hours of meetings, and I can’t remember ever really noticing where God’s moving. How many times do we have to look at the budget, and why can’t I tell if we’re in the black or red?”

“Simple church does not have to be a house church! And no: numbers aren’t huge. Missional is in for the long haul: it takes time! When have you done anything recently that begat big numbers? Hmmm?”

“Another meeting. Another budget. Is this last year’s agenda? It looks familiar . . .”

It was interesting a) being one of three girls, 2) being the only young adult and iii) being Joe Gerick’s kid: three strikes, you’re out! I figured I could say whatever I wanted – the only way for me to go was up. And so I did talk. Folks used my token young adult status to question why young adults no longer went to church. Some actually saw a compassion in my sharings and encouraged me to continue seeking. I heard stories about folks working outside of the box, truly living in the Spirit; but I also saw how poorly we were equipped (or willing) to support them.

This past week members of the Yearly Meeting approved a restructure of the organization: positions, moneys, boards. Duties were shuffled, combined, created, and eliminated to create brand spankin’ new boards. We’ve been asked not to say things like, “The Local Outreach Board, i.e. the old BOE and Board of Peace and Social Concerns”: we’ve been asked to look at them as new entities. That’s hard to do.

I wasn’t a part of the approval process: I heard about it at MidYear Boards, but I didn’t attend community meetings or the business meetings – the notion of the potential squabbling over details made my stomach crunch. I do have a concern that I see no obvious place where out-of-the-box ministries and callings will be affirmed and nurtured: I never said anything because I sensed that a pat answer would be provided (Oh, it will fall under here or over here). But, it doesn’t seem that obvious to me.

I also didn’t speak up because I’m at peace with what’s happening. It appears that these types of works, if they are to take place, will have to occur on the local level. Maybe that’s where it should’ve been happening all along. Just like many Quakers fear having a paid pastor because the congregation might slack on their individual ministerial duties (oh, we’ve paid someone to take care of that stuff), I wonder if an atmosphere of apathy towards being relevant in our cultural context has been created due to thinking, “Oh, the Yearly Meeting takes care of those callings.” But now: it doesn’t seem obvious to me that it will be happening at the upper level: local meetings are going to have to step up.

“However, there are other voices that express real hope — not in the reconstitution of Christendom, but in the idea that the end of this epoch actually spells the beginning of a new flowering of Christianity. The death of Christendom removes the final props that have supported the culturally respectable, mainstream, suburban version of Christianity. This is a Christianity expressed by the “Sunday Christian” phenomenon wherein church attendance has very little effect on the lifestyles or values or priorities expressed from Monday to Saturday. This version of Christianity is a facade, a method for practitioners to appear like fine, upstanding citizens without allowing the claims and teachings of Jesus to bite very hard in everyday life. With the death of Christianity the game is up. There’s less and less reason for such upstanding citizens to join with the Christian community for the sake of respectability or acceptance. The church in fewer and fewer situations represents the best vehicle for public service or citizenship, leaving only the faithful behind to rediscover the Christian experience as it was intended: a radical, subversive, compassionate community of followers of Jesus” (Exiles, Frost 7-8).

I can mourn the “loss” of the board I participated in . . . or I can look around to see how God is redeeming this change to move in new, incredible, hopeful ways.

God’s moving: there is no doubt of that. The question is will we join, or will we be too busy rearranging our organizational furniture to notice?

“Frustration is a catalyst for release. The very thing you are frustrated about is the thing you get to release. Do it privately first and publicly second. Frustration is always about increasing or level of intercession. You need to come into the Throne Room and start interceding for the very thing you are frustrated about. If you are feeling it (frustration is a message from God), then it is your responsibility to pray about it. Frustration then is about an open door.” – Graham Cooke

Our Yearly Meeting Sessions are coming up. Words I often hear associated with it: community, gathering, exciting, frustrating. This session could be particularly challenging as we’re looking at restructuring the organization: boards, reps, etc. I would dare say that Quakes don’t tend to deal with change well (and we usually don’t have to change; one person will voice their concern, and due to conflicting interpretations of the process of consensus, the whole motion comes to a screeching halt): this could be a tricky time.

“Churches (Yearly Meetings) go through pruning times as well. There are times it has to lay all its programs on the altar and ask God, ‘Are you still okay with all of this?’ Frustration makes us desperate to do this properly — to prepare ourselves well. And when you hear from the Lord what He wants to release, then you need to start praying that response. Then you need to ask the Lord to help you with your planning: how do we prepare the way of the Lord right now?” – G.C.

While the gathering begins tomorrow, it’s never too late to start interceeding regarding your frustrations: special treat, eh? 🙂

Using a favorite prayer of Saint Anne, “Help me (us) help me (us)” and “Please please please.”