Mouse Down: The Sequel

Jordan & Keniesha's mouse experiment revolved around having five mice in a terrarium, with equal access to water and the exercise wheel, but with each mouse having it's own specific diet, to discover what food groups tended to create weight gain, lethargy, etc.

The mouse that gained the most weight was the vegetarian one. The rest stayed pretty consistent, although the "store-bought mouse-feed" participant lost some weight. But it was veggie-mouse that really packed on the pounds.

Two of the mice had already been given away once the experiment had ended (Jordi & Keniesha got a silver medal for their presentation). The deceased mouse from the previous evening's "Night of the Demonic Mouse Murders" was the store-bought mouse-food guy.

Curiously, the mouse who had been fed the most amount of meat, was the one that was half-devoured and left (for later snacks?) in the corner.

The murderer and cannibal (newly re-named Hannibal Lecter) was the vegetarian!!

And little Hannibal Jr's choice of cannibalism was the poor mouse who was on the meat diet...

Scientifically, the results speak for themselves. If you live in the same place as a vegetarian, you should sleep with one eye open and a baseball bat under your pillow (a hockey stick will suffice for Canadians).

While I'll admit to not getting very good science grades in high school, the scientific conclusion based on the available data suggests to me that anyone who fails the "Robbymac Barbeque'd Meat Test" this summer, will have to eat all alone in my backyard, and leave the premises once the sun goes down.

There's a Mouse Down...

Last night, as I was peacefully blog-surfing, Wendy & Jordan came crashing up the stairs to the third floor of our house, which is the master bedroom, all hyper-ventilating and wierded-out.

"We're down a mouse!!" gasps Wendy, looking shaken, while Jordan leaps onto our bed and goes almost fetal.

"What, one of the mice has gone missing?" I ask. (Jordan has had a gaggle of mice in her room for her & Keniesha's science fair project for over a month -- interesting smells have resulted.)

As they both continue to talk over each other, I realize that Wendy has done what she normally does when she's (A) really tired, or (B) hyper over something: her Germanic grammar takes over, and she switches her word order. "I mean, a mouse is down -- I think it's dead!" Wendy says.

"And I think the other one is half-eaten!" Wails Jordan from the safety of our bed, clutching a pillow.

I go down to Jordan's room, and discover (A) yes, one of the mice is dead, so I "bury it at sea" via our sanitation device (toilet), and (B) that the pile of hard-to-identify whatever in the other corner of the terrarium is, indeed, the half-eaten remains of one of the other mice. It, too, is sent to Davy Jones' Locker.

The remaining (live) mouse is dashing furiously around the terrarium, spinning on the rodent wheel, and looking decidedly feral. I decide to re-name him Hannibal. After cleaning the areas where the recently deceased were discovered, things seem to return to normal (as our family defines "normal").

Shortly afterwards, as I am watching X-Men 2 on the tube, Jordan comes downstairs, still looking somewhat traumatized, crawls into my lap and curls up with her head on my shoulder. "Daddy, can I just sit here with you for a bit?" she asks.

"No problem," I reply, kissing her on the forehead. Any time my 15-year-old daughter wants to sit with her daddy to comfort her is absolutely fine by me.

I might even forgive Hannibal.

Marriage, Braveheart Style

Remember in the movie "Braveheart", where William Wallace and his young love were married in a clandestine, late-night ceremony, involving only themselves and a clergyman?

Wallace wasn't about to abide by the laws of the land, which at that time meant that the English lord (read: leader of the occupying army) got to have sex with his bride on the first night of their marriage. So, Wallace and his fiance snuck into the forest late one night, and met a priest who prayed a private blessing on their marriage, in the eyes of God.

"Legally", they weren't recognized as being married, because the law of the land was abhorrent to them, and Wallace wasn't about to agree to stand by and watch his bride get raped on her wedding night. At the same time, it was important to them that God -- as represented by the priest -- gave His blessing on their marriage.

One of my profs at Providence Seminary had an interesting idea this semester:

"If 'gay marriage' is such a threat, and the churches are afraid of being eventually forced to marry people against their beliefs and conscience, why don't we beat the courts to the cake, and get the church out of the 'marriage business'?

"We talk about being 'legally' married, but that means getting the state's blessing, not the church's. Maybe the real reason people are afraid of being forced to marry same-sex couples is because churches have already allowed the state to dictate the norms of marriage to the church.

"What if churches stopped getting licensed to perform marriages, and simply had wedding celebrations to bless, in God's name, couples that wish to commit their lives to each other? If they also want the state's recognition of their marriage, for legal purposes, they can get that at a local J.P..."

What do you think? Let the revolution begin?

Your Eyes Smile

"What's changed about me? Can you notice anything different since I became a Christian?"

The question hangs in the air. The teenaged girl who is asking it is someone I had met several years earlier, in the early 1990's, because I was her case-worker when she started senior high school. I worked for the School Board as an outreach counsellor, attempting to get teenagers who had been suspended or expelled, or who had dropped out, back into some level of education. We'll call her "Willow", because it's one of those hippy-ish names that so many of the teenagers on Vancouver Island (California North) seemed to have.

Willow's dad was in prison, for raping two of the family's babysitters. He and his wife were big-time advocates of peyote and hashish being the doorway to spiritual enlightenment. Willow's two older sisters had been abused by the father as well, and he used Willow as a threat to keep them in line: "If you don't, then I'll do Willow..." Not surprisingly, Willow was, as a friend of mine puts it, "a heavy bag of hammers".

During our interaction as outreach counselor/troubled youth, Willow noticed that I wore a crucifix. "You're a Christian, aren't you? I can tell, you wear a Christian cross." (A plain cross, such as most Protestants wear, means nothing to Willow's crowd; a crucifix is a "Christian" cross because Jesus is on it -- anything else is just jewelry.) Willow asked me to come and pray a blessing on her room, because "evil things" often tormented her at night. I agreed, provided that her mom was present.

When I arrived at the house, Willow showed me her remedy for the evil things -- she would read from Psalms until they went away. It was a Jehovah's Witness version of the New Testament & Psalms -- God seems to use just about anything when people honestly call out to Him. I anointed the window-frame and door posts with oil and prayed (out loud, for both Willow & her mother's benefit) for safety and peace in that room.

Willow was dating a Christian guy -- ironically, he was interested in her because she was so wild, and he was trying to distance himself from his mother's faith. Willow liked her boyfriend's mom, and would sometimes accompany her to city-wide Christian events. My wife & I were able to pray for her numerous times in those settings. Willow eventually decided to be a follower of Jesus, dumped her boyfriend, but kept up a great relationship with his mom, who took her under her wing.

Two years later, Willow heard that we were moving to Winnipeg, and called me to go out for a cup of coffee, just for old times. During our conversation, she asked me, "What's changed about me? Can you notice anything different since I became a Christian?"

I thought about it for a moment, and then replied, "When I first met you, you would laugh and smile a lot, but your eyes never changed. It was like your soul was numb. But now, your eyes smile."

Willow sat up straight and laughed out loud. "That's exactly what it felt like! But now I feel so -- I don't know -- alive!"

She leans back into her seat in the restaurant, looking out the window at the ocean and the mountains in the distance.

"My eyes smile," she muses. "I like that."

Pro's & Con's: The Sequel

I just thought of another "pro" to add to the list for being in fulltime, paid ministry!

Today, I was almost crushed by a 300 pound load of stuff falling on me while we were unloading a semi trailer. It came tipping in my direction -- helped along by another employee who didn't check to see where everybody else in the truck was before giving it a shove -- and I barely managed to twist out of the way. Wrenched my shoulder and for awhile I thought my collarbone was broken, but I'm alive and only marginally traumatized.

As I sat having lunch (by myself, of course -- see earlier posts), looking at the myriad of bruises and abrasions on my arms and hands, it occured to me that today's experience might be a good argument for being a paid minister: personal safety. Parishioners may take bites out of you every now and then, but 300-pound objects aren't typically falling, Monty-Python-style, in your personal space on a regular basis.

Just before quitting time, at the front of the semi, there were -- not one, not two, but eight more of these monstrosities that I had to get off the truck with a tip-and-roll dolly. Eight of the behemoths, waiting to finish the job their evil cohort had begun. Leviathan, the chaos monster of the deep. Grr.

With prayer, a hefty Guardian Angel (I can only assume), and many sore muscles, I unloaded all eight. Nothing landed on me.

It's all good.

Primary Sources, People, Primary Sources!

A recent conversation between Wendy & a neighbour on our street:

The neighbour begins, "Oh, you've been involved in the Vineyard, eh? Wow, there are some serious problems with the Vineyard. I can't believe you'd get taken in by them." She goes on to recount the various false teachings and abberant practices of the Vineyard that disturb her.

Wendy, my beautiful and sagacious spouse, responds, "Holy dis-information, Batman! Where did you get that information? The Vineyard doesn't teach or practice any of those things."

Wendy suddenly finds herself on the receiving end of a look that is simultaneously pitying, condescending, and suspicious. "Wendy, you're just so wrong. I read all about the problems with the Vineyard on the Internet..."

On the Internet? You actually believe whatever you read on the Internet?!?

Hello, Gullible's Travels...

It reminds me of something I read in Bill Jackson's "Quest for the Radical Middle: A History of the Vineyard":

"In August of 1986, Christianity Today appeared with a weird caricature of Wimber on the cover and a lead article by Tim Stafford entitled 'Testing the Wine from John Wimber's Vineyard'." (page 152)

I've realized, after all these years, that the overwhelming majority of the people who have problems with the Vineyard are reacting to a caricature of the Vineyard, not the Vineyard as it really is. Some authors (like John MacArthur) have written books that claim the Vineyard had no doctrinal statement, which is a lie. But nobody realizes it because, like good lemmings, they never read anything written by the Vineyard, they only read attacks on the Vineyard from "trusted" leaders (meaning leaders who already agree with them).

My history teacher in high school was always on our cases about "Primary sources, people! Primary sources! Don't read what others say about history, read what those who were there wrote!"

I could echo the same thing to critics of the Vineyard, like our neighbour: "Primary sources, people! Primary sources! Read "Power Evangelism" by John Wimber or "Quest for the Radical Middle: A History of the Vineyard" by Bill Jackson (excellent book which I highly recommend). If you have a problem with what they've written, then let's talk about that. Don't believe everything you read on the 'Net!"

I don't mind if people don't agree or aren't comfortable with everything in the Vineyard, but please, let's get our facts straight, okay?

Primary Sources

"Power Evangelism", by John Wimber
"Quest for the Radical Middle: A History of the Vineyard, by Bill Jackson
Vineyard's Response to John MacArthur, by Rich Nathan (all position papers are available here in PDF form)
Vineyard Doctrinal Statement (click on the Vineyard's link to download it in PDF form)

Okay, Robby. Breathe, breathe... relax...

Pearls, Gems, & the Boss

Heard this morning in my car's tape deck (yes, my car is that old), from Bruce Springsteen's "Born In The USA" album:

Well, now young faces grow sad and old
And hearts of fire grow cold
We swore blood brothers against the wind
Now I'm ready to grow young again

We made a promise we swore we'd always remember
No retreat, baby, no surrender
Blood brothers in the stormy night
With a vow to defend
No retreat, baby, no surrender

This song always reminds me that we need to keep our dreams and vision alive. In Bible college, when everyone else was signing yearbooks with quotes from Martin Luther and Menno Simmons, for my grad write-up, I quoted this same lyric from the Boss. It still reminds me to keep dreams alive and not "grow old" in the sense of getting jaded and cynical. "I'm ready to grow young again..."

Thanks, Bruce.

Pro's & Con's of Paid Ministry

Pro's & Con's of Paid Ministry

Reverend Dr. Maggi Dawn, a singer/songwriter-turned-Anglican-priest, suggested a few weeks back that I write something on the pro's and con's of fulltime, paid ministry (as opposed to being bivocational). She also requested that I hold off until she returned from her vacation, which (judging by her recent return to her blog) appears to be over.

Please note that I am not against the idea of being paid to do pastoral ministry, nor am I defiantly defending it. There are pluses and minuses, and what individuals decide to do with this will vary.

(In the silence of the warehouse -- no radio, remember? -- and the 'alone time' during my lunch breaks, I have lots of time to think about these things, which I'm kinda enjoying.)

Pro's	Con's
Being paid full time means you can focus exclusively on ministry during the week.	Working a "regular job" allows you to stay firmly rooted in the "real world" (like my 'weekend job', as Justin refers to it, of playing in a Celtic rock band)
Getting a regular paycheque... nice!	People treat you strange: "You're paid to care for people; deep down, you don't really."
You have time to build "unity" with other pastors/churches by attending city-wide meetings.	You waste a lot of time at "important" meetings but have none left over for the work of the ministry.
You have lots of time to pray, prepare, plan, evaluate, and develop programs.	You don't learn how to involve more people in the process, which you have to do when you have a "real job" that doesn't leave you all the discretionary time that full-time pastors have.

This list should be viewed as a 'work in progress'. Feel free to add more pro's and con's in the comments.

Probably the biggest advantage I can see to not being a full-time, paid professional pastor ('professional' in the sense of "getting paid") is in the area of credibility. People, including church people, tend to instinctively distrust official clergy.

• They just want our money.
• They're on a power trip.
• They want to control me.
• They think they're more spiritual than the rest of us.
• And so on...

Take away the position, the paycheque, and the power, and suddenly "pastoring" is about gift and calling. Caring for people. Being a good example. A good husband (or wife), and parent. A true friend, who knows when to talk, when to keep quiet, and when to buy the beer. Living incarnationally, just like that other guy -- what's his name again? -- oh yeah, Jesus.

John 1:14: "The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood."

Thoughts?

File Under: You've got to be Kidding...

I started a new job yesterday. Warehouse grunt. Technically I'm a shipper/receiver, but functionally I'm the guy who gets the jobs that nobody else wants. It's a family-run business, and there's only two people -- myself and one of the sales guys -- that aren't related somehow. So, I get the left-over jobs. Hey, it beats being unemployed, so I'm not complaining.

That's not the "you've got to be kidding" part.

Yesterday, my supervisor, a clean-cut pleasant guy in his late 20's, gave me the quick tour around the warehouse, showing me where everything is and giving me the rough outline of my job expectations. But, as we ended our brief tour, he added this bombshell:

"You'll notice that there's no radio back here. We don't have radios -- here, or at home. Or television. Or computers. Oh, and you can't eat lunch in the lunchroom with the rest of the company. We can't 'break bread' with you, 'cuz you're not a member of our church. Nothing personal. You can eat out here in the warehouse."

I kept looking at him, waiting for the punchline, but it never came.

When I mentioned it to the sales guy (who, like me, isn't part of either the family or their church), he told me that for his birthday, the company had bought him a cake, lit the candles, sang him the birthday song, had him cut the cake, and then they all stood quietly until he got the hint and took his piece of cake and went (alone) back to his office, so they could all 'break bread' -- meaning, 'eat the rest of his birthday cake' -- without being contaminated by his presence.

So, I'm taking a book with me ("Power Evangelism" by John Wimber) to read during my coffee breaks, and of course, during my "alone time" at lunch. The sales guy is usually out on sales calls, or I'd just join him in exile. I thought about bringing my laptop with me, so I could write blogs and then "cut and paste" later, but the "no radio/tv/computer (and walkmans)" rule applies to everyone (even infidels like me, all alone in the warehouse). The sales guy has a company car, and there's this gaping hole where the radio/CD player should be. Oh, but he's allowed to put the radio back in when he's not at work (how gracious of them).

Go figure. I work in a warehouse that's run by a Christian cult. Truth really IS stranger than fiction!

Now what do I do with this?

My confused. Should I rejoice over the good? Get all angst-ridden over the evil? Just be glad that there's more good than evil on this blog? Ignore the whole thing because it's a random rating by some strange alien life form?

Go figure...

Star Wars Denominations

Sometimes, we just need to (laugh at ourselves, I mean). Keeps us humble and less anal-retentive about our denomination's "distinctions". I found this one on Karl Thienes' blog:

It started by me observing: Lutheran and Reformed are like Obi-Wan and Darth Vader--they're both really cool and have the Force, but the Reformed have to be all sinister and scary about it. Then people wanted to know what the rest of the sects would be:

The Baptists are Han Solo. They're pretty cool I guess, but no Force powers and lose my interest fast.

Liberals (PCUSA, United Methodists, ELCA) are Jar Jar Binks. They somehow escaped from a cartoon and are in our universe. Go away.

Arminians are C-3P0. I don't think it needs too much explanation.

Charismatics are R2D2. They live in their own universe, no one understands anything they say, and they hang out with the Arminians a lot.

Anglicans are Lando Calrissian. You're not sure whose side they're playing for, but when they get their act together, they usually come out with the good guys.

The Catholics are the Storm Troopers because there are basically eight quadrillion of them, so you really can't ignore them. The Pope is the Emperor.

The Orthodox are the Ewoks. They're really weird and do weird things, no one really knows much about them, but you gotta love 'em because those hats are just so cute. And the Storm Troopers tried to kill them once.

Oh yeah...and the megachurches are the Trade Federation from Episode I. They're huge, there are a lot of them, but man, they're just not that cool and you wonder why they even got written into the plot at all because the Storm Troopers are way cooler.

Televangelism is Jabba the Hutt.

I totally forgot the Independent Fundamental Born-Again Separated KJV-Only Baptists. They can be that sleazy little flying alien running the used podracer parts shop in Episode I. I can't stand that guy. Or better yet, Anakin Skywalker from the same movie. Eh, just make any of the annoying characters (other than Jar Jar) the Fundies.

So, which Star Wars character would the Vineyard be (and why)?

A Different Kind of Anniversary

It was a year ago that Wendy & I flew west for a weekend of meetings with all of the present and former pastoral couples that were ever involved in a certain church plant. The entire focus of the weekend was on reconciling relationships between pastors, and between pastors and congregation.

I can't go into details, since I'd have to name names and explain some knotty situations, which would be totally inappropriate. Suffice it to say that a lot of healing, restoration, and forgiveness swirled around a group of six couples, during some very intense, but very healing, days at a retreat centre. There was also a reconciliation service at the climax of the weekend, Saturday night, where many current and former members of the church joined with us, and were led by a local Anglican pastor in a very significant Eucharist celebration together.

That was a year ago. Awesome weekend. Something Wendy & I had hoped could happen, but hadn't really believed was possible -- that churches and pastors would admit weakness and/or faults, and deal with them in a reconciliatory fashion. Let's face it, that doesn't happen often.

But once, at least, it did happen. Wendy & I are humbly grateful to the Lord to have been a part of it. Like many of the others involved, we had forgiven and let grievances go many years earlier (not wanting to become slaves to bitterness), but it was incredible to actually be able to get face-to-face with others to say, and hear, "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

I wish I could say more, but I respect the confidentiality that the sacredness of that weekend requires, so you'll just have to take my word for it: There are some real, live, healing stories out there of the people of God "getting it right", even if it required (and it did!) a lot of humbling of self and repenting to others.

The Log In Our Own Eye...

This is an old quote, from WA-AAY back in ancient history (2003), from Brian McLaren, one of the "guru's" of pomergent:

"Let's talk about the term postmodern. Nearly everybody is sick of it. And no wonder, since it is used in a jillion different ways. … Another reason for widespread fatigue with the term postmodern: people like me who talk about the subject too often indulge in facile dualisms. This is so modern, we say with self-impressed arrogance, and that is so postmodern. Such facile contrast is not only annoying, but stupid. … I'd rather be a humble modern than a snobbish postmodern any day. Better yet, I'd rather be a humble Christian seeking to do God's will in our fast-changing world in harmony and collaboration with all God's people (whatever their taste in eras)."

(Also interesting in the original article is that it points out just two of many ways that "postmodernism" is viewed in Christian circles).

Ironic, isn't it? That self-described "postmodern" people (who technically are against what Derrida called "binary oppositions" as evidence of hierarchical power plays) can indulge themselves in defining everything as "modern" or "postmodern", with the assumption that postmodern is good and modern is evil?

Key thought? Stay humble. Listen more. Speak less (quickly).

Permanence: Part 2

Some helpful advice (I use the term "helpful" in a manner which could best be described as ironic, if not outright sarcastic) that I, and numerous other pastors, were given about ten years ago on the subject of church-planting:

"Within the first two years of your church plant, about 80% of the people who came with you to plant the church will have left already. Don't let that discourage you. Keep plugging away, and God will bring new people to replace those who have left."

I turned to our senior pastor at the time and said, "Then why plant a church with your friends, if you're assuming you're going to see them walk away? Aren't we really saying that this thing called 'church plant' is more important than maintaining our relationships with our friends?"

He shrugged and gave an answer that was something along the lines of church-planting being the most effective way of evangelizing neighbourhoods, so it was all part of "counting the cost". It was obvious that he didn't like his own answer; he was simply repeating (with some level of cynicism) what he'd been told by others.

My (somewhat cynical) thought at the time was that any wanna-be church planter should gather only people he/she doesn't really care about, since they were going to be gone in a year or so anyway, and safeguard his/her closest relationships by not including them in the church plant. 80%?!? That's an awful price to pay to ensure that the "vision for a new church plant" succeeds...

I wonder if the problem is really that 80% "typically" leave. I wonder if the problem might be far more insidious than that:

• If you buy into that kind of thinking, that 80% will be gone in two years, then you would be tempted to approach the whole church plant in basically a mercenary fashion, using people that you consider expendable (since they're going to "desert" you anyway) to meet the goals of getting the church plant off the ground.
• You would have a hard time being in "community" when you're expecting them to disappear fairly soon -- you'd be really hard-pressed to not guard your own feelings from being hurt by staying aloof to a greater or lesser degree. You'd talk about community, because that's what church-planters do, and deep down you really believe in what you're saying, but you'd have a tough time modelling it -- it would come across as promising one thing, and delivering another.
• From the very beginning, you'd be already looking to the next horizon that doesn't include the circle of relationships you currently have. People will eventually realize this, and that may be the reason they leave -- they have figured out that the "success" of the church plant is more important than they are. "And I joined the church-planting team because I really believed this church was going to be different..."

The more I look at this whole thing called "church-planting", the more convinced I am that part -- a major part -- of what needs deconstructing is our understandings and assumptions of what makes a church plant "successful".

Is Permanence a Value?

If we're serious about "organic community" and desconstructing institutionalism (the blind faith in institutions), is permanence a value?

I ask that because, in the aftermath of numerous house church experiments that I'm aware of shutting down, you have to wonder:

• Did these house church experiments "fail" because they haven't achieved some sort of longevity (and what is the magic formula to determine this)?
• Or were they successful, despite being short-lived, if they saw real, honest community that helped people discover what God had gifted and called them to do, and then encouraged them to follow God in those areas, even if it meant the house church would "lose" some cool people?

Once upon a yesteryear, there were about twelve of us worship pastors sitting on couches at a regional Vineyard gathering in Langley BC, and Brian Doerksen was talking about the longevity of the old hymns, and asking us why these hymns had held on till today.

My response was "Because the church has an idolatrous obsession with anything from the 17th century?" (Note to self: That wasn't the answer Brian was looking for.)

It's somewhat an "apples and oranges" thing to try and compare worship songs and church plants, but the attitude can be the same: if we write a song or plant a church that people are still impressed with years later, we've done well. If it only lasts for a season (a song or a church), but has great impact during that season, is it really a "failure"?

When did "permanence" become a value?

If we remember our history within the Vineyard of the 1990's, there was a lot of talk about the emerging generations being a "nameless, faceless army" that would be more concerned with seeing the Kingdom advance than with advancing their own reputations or careers. Can you be "nameless and faceless" and also hold permanence as a value?