Aj Schwanz

I know:  I’m a geek.  I guess God’s momentarily given me the gift of OT geekdom because this is seriously so interesting!  Much more than it was in my middle school or college Bible classes.  Or maybe it’s that I have a lack of competing interests in my daily life currently (although listening to The Music Machine *never* gets old.  Nope.  Especially the song about patience.  I could listen to that FOREVER:  rock on, Herbert!).

If these geneologies are accurate and literal, did you know that Adam lived beyond Methuselah’s birth, and Methuselah was still living when Shem (Noah’s son) was born?  And Shem died only around 25 years before Abram?  That is *crazy*!!  My husband has some lengthy historical connections in his family (I think his cousin’s grandfather or great grandfather was in the civil war?  Jason’s not here, and I’m not so good with dates to figure out how crazy I sound). But seriously.

And boy howdy do nasty traits get passed down the family line!  Reading about the three Noah boys and their decedents (especially Ham’s son who was cursed) , well, that’s just a whole lot of ugly that seems to be passed, magnified, and glorified. Part of me wonders if Noah knew what he was doing:  why would he want to pass such a legacy to his grandson?  Words.  Matter.

If my family history was written down, I wonder what we would be able to see was inherited:  it’s easy to notice when you’re not living in the midst of it.   Also, what does that look like in my local gathering?  In my denomination?  Where are blessings and cursings evident?  I wonder if God would reveal areas where we continually have hangups or repeatedly run into walls, give us the knowledge why, and instruct us how to repsond to His desire for our healing and redemption.

At Yearly Meeting I heard a story from a faith gathering on the east coast.  Their city’s history involved the slave trade and that the slaves cursed their city upon their arrival.  This city is known for it’s crime, hate acts, and has some of the highest divorce stats in the country.  However, God’s been bringing together people to confess and repent of sins while rejecting these curses, and amazing redemption is taking place, from areas of high crime reporting no acts of violence to churches being asked to be present in the public school districts to help with education and reconciliation.

I wonder what it looks like to loose those chains in my community, in my life.  And I wonder if steps are being taken towards redemption, what they look like, and if we will be able to respond to the deep deep call.  It’s easy to say, “Enh:  this is just the way we are.  This is our history.”  But is it?

Okay, I know a rule of blogging is that you’re not supposed to explain your process of blogging.  At least, I suspect good bloggers don’t explain their process.  But good bloggers might have the ability to process information and noticings and ideas in a logical manner due to 1) regular sleep, b) regular adult interaction, and iii) a lack of projectile fluids in their living situation.  So, in an effort to be a more present blogger, you get the ramblings.  And the explanations.  And once I start to figure this whole thing out, they’ll go away.  Maybe.

While eldering at Surfside I was given the honor to speak at the Wednesday night worship gathering.  The theme of the evening was expectancy.  So the worship team and I sat down on Tuesday to kind of hash out what that would mean.  The story that coming to mind was that of Joseph:  he lived in expectancy that God was faithful and would honor his word to Joseph (that Joseph would have some sort of power).  Then I unpacked some of the differences between expectancy and expectations:  expectations take a certain form, end at a particular point or goal where expectancy seems to be a state of awareness or readiness.  If Joseph placed all his hope on expecting God to honor His word in a certain manifestion, his hope would’ve been crushed by his life experiences; but since he lived in expectancy, Joseph was able to learn from his life experiences which shaped him into being the person to receive the power and authority given to him.

I feel that God has given this story to our youth for many reasons, that they will be a Joseph generation (a post or posts explaining that later).  The story has been hauting me, so each morning I’ve sat with it, reading in different versions.  But then I wondered what context Joseph was coming from, what his family heritage was.  Yes, I’ve read the Bible, but not with the eyes of it being a family scrapbook.  So I started at the beginning reading about creation and working onward.  Some of this stuff is pretty wacky!  Assumptions I’ve made or misteachings due to simplicity that I’ve gathered from Sunday School.  What’s cracking me up right now is the part right after Noah but before Abraham where guys are living until 500 years old, but having kids at 30, so great-great-great-great-great-great grandfathers and sons could know each other.

Coming from a family where I have been able to list living close family relatives on two hands, that blows my mind.  And think about how fun that would be to try and put on a family reunion nametag.  Or how many folks the little ones could run to to ask permission?  “But great-great-great-auntie said I could!”  “Okay . . . . wait:  you don’t even *have* a great-great-great-auntie!”  “Oh.  Well, whoever that lady over there is said I could.”  And one would think that the early Genesis stories would be pretty accurate since there would be an abundance of folks to say, “You’re not telling it right!”  Or maybe that’s why some stories seem to be missing from the Bible, you know, those family stories that aren’t shared verbally but mostly with a look.  “Like that time that, you know.”  “Mm hmm.  Mm hmm.”

Mm hmm.

This weekend I found myself wanting to make deals with God.  I had a fairly nasty bout with a bug of the stomach nature, who also made itself at home in my small children - not the kind of hospitality we desire to practice in this house, and I found myself negotiating:

• “Okay, God, if you can make my gut solidify, I’ll do [enter such and such].”
• “How about if you make my intestines not sound like a bowling alley then I won’t do [enter such and such].”
• “What if I do [such and such] and don’t do [such and such], please oh please can I ingest something other than whole wheat ritz and powerade?”

And then there was the oh-so-self-sacraficial

• “If you please would heal my child, a noble request, I’ll stop asking/badgering for my own well being.”

Desperate times call for desperate measures, especially when your toddler has been awake, puking, and making an “enh enh enh” noise for 10 hours straight.

God is a covenantal God, I reasoned:  why can’t we covenant about nausea and gastrointentional distress?  God made covenants with the Israelites:  “if you will worship me alone, I will be your God and you will be my people.”  Which in my head means that I should be able to whip out the Covenant Card, notice that a covenental relationship bars me from discomfort - emotional, physical, spiritual - especially if I meet up my end of the bargain.

But it doesn’t, really.  And I never can truly hold up my end of the bargain of my own strength. In the midst of a self-pity-party I was listening to last week’s sermon from Imago Dei.  At some point the pastor mentioned how *all* *things* come from Christ, including our faith.  That we are not strong enough to sustain faith, but Christ is, and is interceding for us, and we partner with Christ in that effort - it’s not solely of our own will.

The Israelites never lived up to their end of the covenant, and I don’t know that they were meant to.  It’s almost more that God put out this impossible goal so they could realize the impossible nature of it, and then to for God to provide the means of it - Himself.  Christ is more than equipped and ready and in process of making us God’s people.  But that means we don’t get a say in how that looks:  doesn’t mean we get a Covenental Card disclaimer of discomfort.

Interesting things to think about, and a little distracting from the gurgles.

Lately I’ve not been going into my garage.  One might think:  “well, that could mean that Aj’s garage is fairly empty - nothing to get.”  Another might postulate:  “Or Aj isn’t doing anything that requires her going into her garage - she doesn’t need anything in there.”  When in reality the reason I’m not going into my garage is because currently that is the room in my house that is paying homage to the American motto:  “gross excess is only half enough.”  There is so.much.stuff.  Normally, I love to organize, but here I don’t know where to start.  Do I move the bags of river rock that need to go in the side flower bed?  But then I should just put the rock into the bed.  But then I need to weed first.  And put down landscaper’s fabric.  Which is also in the garage, lying on the floor next to a pile of rags that were used to clean up a toddler’s experiment of “what should I do while Ma is putting away pounds of flour from Bob’s Red MIll?  Well, I’ve been meaning to see if beer bottles bounce on the garage floor?”

Baby steps to four o’clock.

Judah came in while I was standing in the midst of the muck, just staring.  “Mama, whatcha doing?”  “Noticing.”  “No-seeing?”  “Well, yeah, pretty much.”  Assessing.  Gathering.  Grouping.  Figuring out the small area I can tackle which will lead to more room to spread out, organize, weed, move on.

Same with my blog life.  I haven’t been contributing to the Grand Online Life not because I have nothing to share, nothing relevant, but because there’s just so.much.stuff.  And so I stand in the middle and stare.

Some of the things I notice in the midst:

• I’ve been more disatisfied/frustrated/disoriented since the fast.  Is it that I/we missed the mark?  Or that it’s taking longer to hit the mark (whatever that is) than I feel it should?  Or I’m feeling the tension of change?
• I’ve been pondering how the story of Joseph lines up with the journey our youth will embark on and how I/we adults will be involved.  How do we live lives that joyfully and expectantly wait on God?
• This life:  this suburban, chain-storing shopping, activity-driven, event-oriented, disconnected, consuming life - is this it?  If not, what is?  And how do I/we get there?
• Prayer and healing/growing food and plants/mentoring - these seem to be weaving themselves together, but I don’t know how/why.
• How does one live in the tension of being called to be part of a community yet feeling called to move out from that community?

And so things might seem cluttered around here and unrelated, but I believe that plodding through (sometimes acting, sometimes just noticing, or maybe no-seeing) will lead to a surprising reorientation.  Or at least a couple trips to Goodwill. 

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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

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!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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 . . . ) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

We experienced yet another week of worship with our children, and though this blog has been silent, we lived to tell the tale.  So did the balcony carpet, although it’s been littered with a bit more cereal crumbs that I’m fairly certain it’s ever seen.

This past week did not go as “smoothly” as the week before.  Which, one may think, “But Aj, last week didn’t sound all that smooth in the first place.”  Very very true.  Judah ran even more.  Abel, having had a bout of the stomach flu the day before, was a bit on the clingy side.  And Jason and I were a bit tired with patience lacking.

But we persevered through snacks, bathroom breaks, and pacing.  In my Walking the Balcony I got to hang out with a friend who was pacing with a bebe as well.  Except the last time he had a babe was some 14ish years ago.  Nope, this wasn’t his kid:  he and his family had been taking turns passing the lovely little girl around during service.

And towards the end of service, Judah asked saw Mr. Alan in the sound booth and wanted to infiltrate, but I told him not to be a bother.  Except, of course, Mr. Alan asked if Judah could come and help him run sound.

Judah told me all about the things he learned:  listening on the headset, watching the screens, “working” the nobs.  He felt very informed and helpful.

At the end of service we had a time of prayer.  I think the idea was to reflect on the message, but something was also said about praying for others.  I was a little too busy balancing Abel on the open second story window because I thought he might stop “ditditDITDITDIT!!!”ing at the top of his lungs if he saw his beloved nature.  But a friend came up to me and asked if she could pray for me:  um, yeah?!!  :)  As she spoke, she prayed for me to have patience, and I must admit I found myself thinking, “Do I look like I need patience?  Man, I thought I was handling myself well this morning!”, but perhaps it was more a reflection on the active tykes rather than my response (I hope).  :)  She later took Abel for a walk outside so he really could enjoy the sunshine and I could enjoy free arms and quiet.

Again, to me, this is church.  Both my little men have been dedicated in front of this body, and it wasn’t just a commitment from Jason and I to raise them in the ways of Christ, but also for the body of Newberg Friends to commit to walk alongside us.  As other families bring their children in front of the congregation in the same way, so I eagerly commit to walk alongside them, through the good and the bad, through the children who sit still during service and the children who appear to be jumping over the balcony (I can’t tell you how many folks jerked every time Judah approached the edge).  I can’t do it on my own, and I don’t want to; and as I outsourced some of my parenting duties that morning, I looked forward to the day when I can return the favor.

It’s actually here:  June has arrived, and Newberg Friends Church has begun a six week corporate fast (lots of helpful linky links on the webpage).   Well,  Newberg Friends has begun an  “optional” six week corporate fast, i.e.  many of the adult Sunday School classes are still meeting, but I think addressing what it means to be the corporate body of Christ, setting aside preferences for the sake of others, and laying down some of that individualism we as Quakers love SO very dearly almost to our dying denomination’s detriment is probably another post in itself.

Because this post is about the fun we had on Sunday morning:  so much fun that Abel fell asleep in his high chair during lunch and Judah slept almost 12 hours straight last night.  Now *that’s* a great Sunday.

Jason and I were a bit wary.  We knew this Sunday was coming, the day when all the kids and youth would be in worship with us.  And we also knew that the nursery and the 3’s class would still be in session for our kids to be deposited into.  But it seemed a tad hypocritical to speak for weeks on what a wonderful time this could be to see our full faith community and experience the life and joy and reality of truly corporate worship, you know, minus my kids.

So I prepared:  I packed books and snacks and a sudoku book and pens in my Mary Poppins bag.  I remember a few years ago sitting by a family with young boys, and every Sunday the mom would pull out coloring books and snacks and activities for them to do.  Newly married, and minus the whirling dervishes known as my children, I would look over and think, “Why do these kids have to be entertained?  Why can’t they just sit?  What is wrong with her and her parenting that these boys have to be distracted during service?”  My, oh my, oh my, I should’ve known that that would be a small glimpse into my future.  Because, you see, at least her kids *SAT*.  Sigh.

And so we “congregated” in the very back of the balcony where we could quickly exit if need be and small people could climb under pews with the least amount of distraction and smaller people could crawl on the floor and not conk their noggins and yowl.

It went as well as could be expected. 

People only had to stop Judah from hanging precariously over the balcony once and out the second story window once.  Abel only shouted at his pacifier a few times, during quiet time, of course.  Judah conked his noggin once, had to go to the bathroom once meaning stomping up and down each.individual.stair.to.the.basement.and.back.up.again, and mostly worked his army skills climbing under benches.  We only bothered our neighbors a few times (one of them being the president of the university, i.e. my hubby’s ultimate boss - lovely).  Judah sang the songs while Abel and I danced.  Judah ate triskets while Abel stalked him yelling “DIT DIT DIT DIT” and we quickly threw him a piece of chunky cereal to pacify the restless native.  Judah loved seeing “Opal and Pearl” (i.e. Sandra Fish and Teacher Miriam) all dressed up and acting like two crazy old ladies not understanding the concept of the fast (”I tried to tell the officer about the fast, but he didn’t seem to think that applied to my driving here”).

People talked to each other.  People sang and laughed and praised.  Afterwards we congregated on the lawn for muffins and coffee.  While the adults chatted and the little boys ran amuck, I looked at Jason and said, “This is church.”  Minus being able to maintain eye contact with the adults because I was having to monitor too many roads that small people could run out in, this was just like when I was a kid after church:  parents chatting and happy, kids being kids, food and beverage being enjoyed, worshiping and fellowshipping.

Which, apparently, is exhausting.  Who knew I needed to build up my fellowshipping endurance?  Believe me, that’s something that I won’t mind putting effort into.

So, I last left you with the question of what it would be like for a faith community to sabbath for a year:

• What would that look like?
• What could be revealed during that time?
• Where could God take a group who was willing to lay it all out on the table, let God gets His mits all over everything, and wait to receive?
• Do we really believe that all we do as a church is God’s and for God? Or is it for us and of our own power?

During December I read the book of Isaiah. While everyone else seems to be immersed in Luke, I felt called to look at the “primary resources” behind our Advent readings and meditations. Each day I would read a chapter, trying to figure out what life in Israel and the world at that time really looked like, hoping that would give me insight into how Isaiah’s words might have impacted the Israelites in their day-to-day living. Over my bowl of Bob’s Red Mills high fiber hot cereal with almonds, flaxseed, cinnamon, and blueberries, I’d read and ponder and move on with my day.

Until one day: the day I hit Isaiah 58. The title of the section was “True Worship”. I thought, ‘How applicable to my situation where I’m on a task force discerning the next steps for worship in our community!’ And I ate my gruel and moved on with my day.

Until the next day. When I sat down, gruel in front of my, along with my happy light, and I opened up to Isaiah 59. Except that my eyes went back to Isaiah 58. I tried to move them back down the page: they did not want to budge. It was like that moment in Friends when Chandler proposes to Monica the first time, simply because they had had a fight and he didn’t know how to apologize or make up: everyone was in the room and groaned and turned away except for Rachel who sat at the kitchen table with her hands pressed against the side of her face staring and muttering, “Oh, oh, I can’t not look at it!”

I couldn’t not look at it.

Same thing happened the next day. And the next. And then one of those days happened to be a Sunday, and so I read it during most of church, wondering if I was meant to share it in service.

But no: I was meant to share it during that afternoon’s Next Steps meeting, when I sat silently stewing most of the meeting until finally someone asked if I had something to say (sigh: seriously - don’t they know better?) and the floodgates opened. I can’t remember all I babbled about - it was a bit of a roundabout (shocking, I know). But I do know that at some point I read Isaiah 58 to the group. Actually, I sobbed it out, having to pause because I couldn’t read through the tears (I remember shaking my head to try and get the tears out so I could move on because, dang it, Holy Spirit, couldn’t you move me in some other way so that I’m still functional and understandable? And not quite so soggy? :)).

Isaiah 58

Fasting that Pleases God

1 “Cry aloud, spare not;
Lift up your voice like a trumpet;
Tell My people their transgression,
And the house of Jacob their sins.
2 Yet they seek Me daily,
And delight to know My ways,
As a nation that did righteousness,
And did not forsake the ordinance of their God.
They ask of Me the ordinances of justice;
They take delight in approaching God.
3 ‘ Why have we fasted,’ they say, ‘and You have not seen?
Why have we afflicted our souls, and You take no notice?’

“ In fact, in the day of your fast you find pleasure,
And exploit all your laborers.
4 Indeed you fast for strife and debate,
And to strike with the fist of wickedness.
You will not fast as you do this day,
To make your voice heard on high.
5 Is it a fast that I have chosen,
A day for a man to afflict his soul?
Is it to bow down his head like a bulrush,
And to spread out sackcloth and ashes?
Would you call this a fast,
And an acceptable day to the LORD?
6 “ Is this not the fast that I have chosen:
To loose the bonds of wickedness,
To undo the heavy burdens,
To let the oppressed go free,
And that you break every yoke?
7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
And that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out;
When you see the naked, that you cover him,
And not hide yourself from your own flesh?
8 Then your light shall break forth like the morning,
Your healing shall spring forth speedily,
And your righteousness shall go before you;
The glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
9 Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer;
You shall cry, and He will say, ‘Here I am.’

“ If you take away the yoke from your midst,
The pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness,
10 If you extend your soul to the hungry
And satisfy the afflicted soul,
Then your light shall dawn in the darkness,
And your darkness shall be as the noonday.
11 The LORD will guide you continually,
And satisfy your soul in drought,
And strengthen your bones;
You shall be like a watered garden,
And like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.
12 Those from among you
Shall build the old waste places;
You shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
And you shall be called the Repairer of the Breach,
The Restorer of Streets to Dwell In.
13 “ If you turn away your foot from the Sabbath,
From doing your pleasure on My holy day,
And call the Sabbath a delight,
The holy day of the LORD honorable,
And shall honor Him, not doing your own ways,
Nor finding your own pleasure,
Nor speaking your own words,
14 Then you shall delight yourself in the LORD;
And I will cause you to ride on the high hills of the earth,
And feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father.
The mouth of the LORD has spoken.”

What I didn’t know until after I shared is that another church in our area has been praying this scripture over NFC for almost two years, specifically verse 12 (which stood out to me on my initial reading as well as another person in our group).

A member of the task force suggested we sit with this scripture as a group. We did. As we prepare for our upcoming fast, I wonder if others would be willing to think on Isaiah 58 as well, holding up Newberg Friends as well as your own faith gathering if it’s different. What stands out to you? What strikes you? What convinces you? What does true fasting mean to you?

It’s relieved me to hear from at least one that my postings have not been “airing dirty laundry“.  Initially I feared that sharing this journey could seem critical or judgmental of people who have questioned the process.  A number of murmurings of “we just don’t know what’s going on/we need a bigger picture/why haven’t we heard a whole lot from up front?” has been uttered.  Some of the tone has been said somewhat disrespectfully, as though the leadership has handled this incorrectly.  I, too, wondered why we didn’t gather the Next Steps group to share in front of the congregation on a Sunday morning.  But then I realized if I criticized, I, too, would be disrespectful.  So instead I’ve decided to share/question/teach/inform on my own turf, which happens to be this little electronic notepad, with the hopes of edification and not tearing down.

In Permission Granted the authors note that vision for a church only lasts for so long, about five to seven years.  Before that time is up, a new vision needs to be being discerned so as to not leave the church aimless.  And as that vision is acted upon, the church will undergo significant transition and will need to be instructed on how to abide in that transition (like childbirth:  the pain doesn’t go away, but at least education helps cope, abide in the pain, and hope for the coming ending).

The authors also focus on Christ’s illustrations of the church - that of a building and that of a field.  A building is a structure:  rigid, inflexible, unchanging.  These are the values we hold as the body of Christ.  A field is an environment:  fluid, flexible, changing.  These are the manifestations of our values as we respond to our current context.

Thinking about fields and hearing that vision only lasts for so long, I had an ‘ah ha!’ moment:  these things have something in common - sabbath!  In the Old Testament God commanded that the fields not be planted every seven years.  Now environmentally we know this is so that the field doesn’t become totally tapped of nutrients, so that it has time to rest, replenish, and produce well:  farmers employ this method in crop rotation.

But God also commanded the Sabbath for another reason:  as a check to see if the Israelites were abiding in Him rather than their own power.  It’s easy to harvest crops and thank God when you are plucking the bounty; it’s another thing to wait for God to provide.  The Israelites were to trust God that He would provide enough crops during the sixth year not only to provide for the sixth year, but also the seventh . . . and the eighth (because during that year, the crops would be growing).  It was a way of laying everything down and relying on God.  But I imagine it was also a time to regroup, to dream, to change old habits, to plan for new things that couldn’t be thought of during the repetition of the previous year.

I called my dad to ask him what the Israelites did during their Sabbath year.  “I imagine they rested!” he said.  Actually, they never took a Sabbath year, he informed me:  this is why they were exiled to Babylon for seventh years - they owed God seventy Sabbaths.  So instead of getting to rest every seven years, they instead were enslaved for seventy years:  makes one really think about resting when God commands it, eh?

So . . . if the church is like a field . . . and fields need to rest every seven years . . . and vision only lasts for five to seven years . . . doesn’t it seem like the church should take some sort of Sabbath every seven years? . . .

I put forth this question to the Next Steps group one Sunday.  I tried to hold it back because it just didn’t seem the direction we were moving.  I sat silently and antsy for an hour and a half during one meeting, a meeting that our clerk and our pastor happened to both be absent for (so it was a bit of a shock for them when they got the minutes :D).  But then someone asked, “Aj, what are you thinking?”  I asked them if they really wanted to know.  They should’ve known better than to say “yes”. 

The floodgates poured forth.  I’m part of a program that connects with young moms, but we can’t find folks to fill the steering team for next year and attendance has been down:  could we lay it down?  Typical church fashion would say, “No!  This is a good thing!  Force people into the holes!  Fill the need!”  But maybe the need has been met, and God’s calling these resources to a new thing.  When do we have time to discern that?   Perhaps during a Sabbath?

What would it look like for a church to Sabbath for a year? Would that mean that the pastor stops delivering a message on Sunday mornings and that other forms of worship are used?  Would that mean that Sunday schools would be laid down and community would meet in other ways?  What would happen if programs were laid down for a year - programs that help teens and old people and folks in the church and folks out of the church?

What would we do for the year?  Would we hole up and be antisocial?  Or would we find new and creative ways to meet - perhaps outside the walls of the church?

What would happen to the folks who rely on the programs and services NFC provides?  Would their needs go unmet? . . . Or are we relying on programs and not God to meet peoples’ needs?

Note:  I am a verbal processor.  I was not saying that these things should happen:  I was simply posing the question to think about “what would it be like *if* we did these things?”  And so we left the meeting with more questions than answers, most unsettledness than direction.  Because that’s so like God.

So I’ve shared some about the process of the group.  At least, I feel as though I did:  does it make sense to you?  What are you fuzzy about?  What would be helpful to hear more about?

During this process I read a great book called Permission Granted To Do Church Differently in the 21st Century.  It’s written by Gary Goodell, a person I know not a lot about, and Graham Cooke, a person who has become key in my spiritual journey.  Graham Cooke, originally from Great Britain so he’s got a *great* accent, leads a prophetic ministry centered in Vacaville, CA.  Dad introduced me to Graham in the form of videos and audio cassettes which I listened to while going for morning walks around my neighborhood.  He is one of the kindest, to the point, challenging, loving teachers I’ve ever heard.  So when I heard about this book, I knew I’d need to read it.

Section 1:  The authors talk about the “Third Day” church God’s told them that we’re moving into (there’s lot of references in the Bible about moving into something new on the third day).  Development of people and churches; Church as a living system - organic and organizational paradox (the church is a field - flexible and changing (this is the response to our cultural context) - and a building - rigid and unchanging (these are our values) - how do we hold to both?).

Section 2:  Third-Day Worship; God-centric Worship; the Worship Feast

Section 3:  Third-Day Meetings; Embracing the Unpredictable; What’s Really Sacred?

Section 4:  Transition (Oh, my, how people would be helped if they read this - to actually understand what we’re going through.  It doesn’t make it easier necessarily, but it’s nice to understand what is actually going on).

Section 5:  Third-Day Preaching

Section 6:  Third-Day Mission.

Good stuff, eh?  One chapter really struck me:  Groups of Tens, Groups of Fifties, and Groups of Hundreds.  “It is not that we just need more than one meeting.  In fact, it doesn’t matter how many meetings you have in a week or a month.  What is important is to see the potential of different sizes of meetings that create different atmospheres or venues, and thus produce different outcomes or results” (109).  We have different sized meetings at NFC, but I don’t think we know why we do, nor do I think we always have placed the correct desired outcomes on those meetings.

The first group is groups of ten.  “These smaller groups are home-based, intergenerational meetings, where we share our lives on a regular basis, make our needs know to each other, and bear each other’s burdens.”  This seems to happen with small groups and Listening Life groups and some Sunday School classes.  “These groups are not cell groups, or even home groups; they are real churches - complete and autonomous churches.  They have leaders; the often receive offerings for missions, the poor, the needy.  They evangelize the lost, baptize converts, dedicate babies, marry the wed and bury the dead, and obviously celebrate the sacrament of communion.  These small groups are not just extensions of the ‘mother ship’ local community church that has a central campus around which all life swirls.  They are the Church” (111).  He then goes on to talk about the theological importance of having The Meal together.  “The local church does not do small groups; the local church is a small group where everyone participates” (117).

Groups of Fifties:  “This is the group where everyone worships” (117).  “These groups are not meant to replace the whole body, but rather make possible a type of meeting in which all ages, including children, can participate” (118).  There has been a concern voiced about what to do with the kids during our six-week fast:  people are concerned for their spiritual welfare if they aren’t in Sunday School.  I’m a bit concerned for their spiritual welfare if they don’t know how or get to have an opportunity to contribute to the larger body!  “This meeting is based upon the full priesthood of all believers with mutual edification and mutual up-building for the purpose of personal strengthening” (118).  And Goodall notes that this is not the entire body, but a gathering of several smaller churches or simple churches in a larger setting (even a home, a park, a backyard).

Groups of Hundreds:  “This is the group where everyone listens and learns.”  The point of these groups is for the larger body or network of churches to consider direction.  They are generally led by teams, not an individual, embodying fivefold ministry.

The other week my husband was getting poked by God to consider the point and purpose and elements of worship.  He was questioning the focus on the sermon:  is that very worshipful?   We do need to be taught, but perhaps we have been putting the wrong function on the different group sizes.  It’s like putting a wrong car part in a car engine:  I will probably be frustrated when it does work well, but can the part change to meet my expectations?   Not so much.  When we try to wed worship and teaching, the focus is divided.  When we aren’t being church in small group ways, we’re probably not prepared to worship:  we have to play catch up in worship to get to that worshipful place.  When we try to get our individual needs met in the large group, people will fall through the cracks:  people can’t be held accountable very well in groups of hundreds.

So, as we think about where we are stepping next and who we are stepping with, perhaps we need to make sure the “parts” are serving their intended function, otherwise we’re going to get stuck on the side of the road, and I don’t think Click and Clack will be able to gufaw our way out of this one.