Bones

Where does most of the time, energy, focus and money go in your church?  Or, where does it go in your life in general?

Kent Smith gave my Missional Residency group a very interesting tool recently.  Looking at the different type (really, size) of groups that Jesus interacted with in his life on earth, this tool gives 7 unique and distinct Levels of Community:
1) Solo: by yourself - Mark 1.35, 6.45-6; Luke 4.42, 5.16.
2) Mono: group of 2 ("one other") - John 13.25, 21.20-4; also, the disciples were all called and sent in pairs in Mark.
3) Micro: group of 3-5 - Mark 14.32-4.
4) Meso: group of 12 - the Disciples.
5) Macro: group of 70-120 - Luke 10.1-12, Acts 1.15.
6) Metro: 1000s - "the crowds" in Jesus' ministry.
7) Mondo: the universal Church.

Generally, I (and others with whom I've spoken) get the sense that if you ask an individual which levels of community they could most live without, they first will drop Mondo, then Metro, then Macro:  We are beings who cannot live well without knowing and being known by at least a small, intimate group of people.

However, when we look back at my first question... then we will most likely see that often most of a church's money goes to Sunday morning/Sunday evening/Wednesday evening services built for the Macro or Metro level, and the more intimate (and more fulfilling, and more formative) levels are left to fend for themselves. (I would love to actually see some research on this.  When I have time... hah)

That's like trying to build a building without a foundation.
Or rigging a sail to catch the wind without a mast.

No wonder I so often hear people saying they feel disconnected from a church even if they worship there every Sunday...

So, this upcoming weekend my Missional Residency group will begin taking the concrete steps of forming intentional Christian community by entering into a Rule of Life, or Way of Life, together.
We all gave voice to the desires and passions in our own spiritual lives to help create our own Rule, and it contains some common Christian practices:
—>Daily prayer
—>Daily Scripture reading
—>Weekly communal worship with Eucharist and confession

However, it also has a number of unique and specific things for us to do together, and the rest all focus on the Mono, Micro, and Meso levels that are at best left as optional secondary services of most larger churches:
—>regular 1 on 1 time with the same "soul friend" for greater encouragement and accountability
—>meeting regularly with the same gender-specific group of 3-5 members of our "church family" to ask "How is it with your soul?"
—>communally engaging in Silence, Solitude, and Fasting, among other disciplines
—>creating and nurturing relationships outside of the Church, and outside of our normal circles, with a soul friend or partner

These are the "bones" of what we've talked about; we'll iron out some more specific version today.  And I'm extremely excited to begin this entire process.

A note about "Rules of Life:"  These typically consist of disciplines that practicing Christians do anyway.  A Rule is merely a framework for helping a group do them consistently and hold each other accountable to them.  We create ours to be as liberating and freeing as possible while encouraging the practices we as a community find so necessary to living life with each other and God.

As my good friend Kester reminds us, "We should live the kind of life that requires more serious prayer."  And I believe this Rule of Life will be that more serious prayer for me—prayer in action.

Hopeless Wanderer

"Let anyone with ears to hear, listen!" - Mark 4.9, 23 

How often, and through which things, do we anticipate that we might hear a word from God?

Anyone who might actually read this blog probably is aware of Mumford & Sons' new album, "Babel."  I have long used Mumford songs as aids to my prayers, as vessels to carry me into more contemplative modes of listening to God (please see 'The Cave,' 'Winter Winds,' 'White Blank Page,' 'Awake My Soul,' 'Dust Bowl Dance,' among others).  This album as a whole has surpassed anything I've had in my possession before for that.  As I've told a few friends already, I learn more about life and human experience with every new Mumford song I hear.

We can cover the usage of "Christian" labels on music elsewhere—I don't think that tag is worth too much; God is a creating God, so when humans create art we bear that image more clearly and in so doing reveal the reality around us in more detail through new perspectives—so, even though I am not aware of any such label (or faith commitments) on this band's part, I will tell of how the Spirit of God has already used it to speak into this particular moment of my life.

I've been in Abilene, Texas, for near 14 months now.  Moving to this west Texas town has been a drag for me, primarily because I had built such a network of friends in Aggieland that not being in the midst of constant encouragement drained me greatly.  Not only that, but I have had quite a hard time finding a feeling of purpose outside of my studies here (more concrete developments happening on this desire; another update coming soon).

So as I hit the 3rd track of "Babel"—called "I Will Wait—a few of its lines begin to run around and around in my head:

These days of dust, which we've known,

Will blow away with this new sun.

But I'll kneel down, wait for now.

I'll kneel down, know my ground.

Raise my hands,

Paint my spirit gold.

And bow my head,

Keep my heart slow.

And I began to think about the sand around Abilene.

Then, last Wednesday night, my MRNA (Missional Residency in North America) cohort had a family cookout, with hot dogs, black bean burgers, and s'mores with Reese's (which, by the way, will change your life).  At the end of it all, a few of us followed our professor Kent Smith up a hill, and at the top we could see the lights of Abilene below us.  And under the stars, we prayed over the city.  I prayed about the sand.

I felt like I had been irritated by Abilene not being how I wanted it to be, much how I feel when I'm covered in sand in all the wrong places and can't get it all out.  So my prayer was for God to make the irritating grains of sand to become like pearls, so maybe I'd begin to cherish and value this place as God so obviously does.  So I consented to "kneel down," to "wait for now," and learn to praise God in that place regardless of feelings in the manner of the above lyrics.

Into this place the Spirit threw track #9, "Hopeless Wanderer."  Not only does it have a fitting title (right Ruth?), but the song as a whole seemed to be an exegesis of my life in this moment:

The shelter also gave their shade,

And in the dark I had no name.

Much how I feel some shelter from the Spirit's forming of me in my studies, yet there is a shadow under which I am grasping for some sense of present (as opposed to future) identity in ministry.

So when your hope's on fire,

But you know your desire,

Don't hold a glass over the flame

Don't let your heart grow cold.

I will call you by name,

I will share your road.

Just try to read those lines, as a Christian, and tell me that it doesn't fit the picture we share of being called, of being named (claimed, given identity) by God—the very God who in Jesus walked our dusty, wandering roads.

THEN, we hit the kicker, the line that made me start screaming like Rafiki as it rang in my ears:

Hold me fast! Hold me fast!

'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer.

I will learn, I will learn

To love the stars I'm under.

To love the stars I'm under.

SO SICK!

I could continue on about the lyrics of this album that so blatantly exclaim the realities of life, many of which the Church could learn to sing better, but I'll just stick to this point.  I have a hope that the changing, shifting ground upon which I stand will become valuable to me, and that I'll learn to love the stars I'm under.  I can eagerly anticipate a new sun, and even wait for it.  All because my road's been walked before by the One in whom I trust.  And because I know, by the always-active, always-listening God, that I am heard and not forgotten, and spoken to by even the most mundane things like a popular band's album:

"He who planted the ear, does he not hear?  He who formed the eyes, does he not see?" - Psalm 94.9:  God is a God who sees and hears us, and replies**; and, "Ever since the creation of the world God's eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things God has made." - Romans 1.20.

**Also see the Book of Job—and my blog about it, "Whirlwind of Trust"—and pay attention to 42.8-9, where God says that Job has spoken of God what is right... even though Job was calling God out.  Perhaps God hears us better than we expect, and even desires to be called out by us.