Missional Art

File under: "Dang! I wish I'd have thought of that first!"

Emerging Grace has come up with some absolutely incredible artistic images for many of the "buzzwords" (jargon, lingo, missional-speak) that are often used in and associated with emerging/missional circles. The one pictured above is my immediate favourite, but the whole series (20 pieces of missional art in all) is really well done.

Emerging Grace has also linked to higher-rez versions of each. I've already downloaded the whole set -- my laptop just got a new screensaver slideshow!

What are you waiting for? Check them out!

'Nuff Said

71%How Addicted to Blogging Are You?

And I think watching the Canadian Football League (CFL) may account for the rest of my summer addictive behavious.

Could be worse...

Budding Artist

Over the summer, Wendy has been taking an art class. This is from the first class (Mixing Colors 101).

When her instructor arched his eyebrows and politely asked Wendy what she might call this piece, Wendy informed him, "An Accident With Scheduling The Trains".

Musicians, dancers, actors, writers, photographers, graphic designers, and now painters. It appears that my household is saturated -- nay, inundated -- with artsy-fartsy types.

Probably explains a lot.

Faded Jeans Blues

Have you ever loved a pair of blue jeans? Whether they be Levi's or some designer label, stone-washed or acid-washed, boot-cut or bell-bottom? You know, just an incredibly comfortable, worn-forever pair of blue jeans?

I just had to part ways with a pair that I've worn literally into rags. It was hard to do. They were just so danged comfortable, so familiar, so dependable.

It takes a while to get jeans "broken in" so that they fit like they were created from whole cloth just for you. These jeans qualified. They were comfortable, well-broken-in, and pulling them out of the dryer while folding laundry felt like opening the door and seeing a long-lost friend.

Whenever I would look in the bottom drawer of my dresser for pants, if they were there -- even on the bottom of the pile -- I would dig them out without a second thought. If I was playing on a worship team at a church, there might be a brief hesitation, but 99% of the time, they got worn anyway.

They were getting pretty thread-bare, by now. Holes in the knees had been followed by holes in the thighs. These holes eventually began to not only get larger, but conspired together to grow towards each other. The cuffs were hopelessly frayed from countless times of scuffling along the ground. The pockets -- once trust-worthy repositories for coins, guitar picks, and a flash drive -- began to betray my faith in them by developing escape routes for valuables.

The belt loop where I always clipped my car keys with a biner (pronounced "beener") was now only attached at one end, and had become merely an impotent reminder of its former useful self.

Clearly, it was time to send these once-functional, well-loved friends to the Great Denim Warehouse In The Sky. Yet, it proved more difficult than I first anticipated. Familiarity, and a sense of shared history, when combined with many good memories of times past, can make it difficult to do what should be obvious.

Sure, these faded, worn-and-torn, ripped up blue jeans were hardly even functional by this point, but they were comfortable, familiar, and getting rid of them would mean starting all over with a new, unbroken-in, unfamiliar pair. It was surprising how tenacious the desire to just keep wearing them was.

Finally came the day when I pulled them from the dryer, glanced at the inside, and saw (A) that the back pocket had obviously had a "falling out" with the rest of the leg, meaning my butt would be unceremoniously exposed, and (B) the crotch was about to go at any second, and I'm just not young & hip enough to wear some crazy boxers underneath these rips as if it were actually stylish.

So, facing the inevitable, yet not without a twinge of remorse and nostalgia, I wadded my denim companion into as tight a ball as possible, and slam-dunked the faded and tattered remains into the garbage can that resides benignly under our kitchen sink. Farewell, good and faithful steed.

Well, what do you think?

Is this story a metaphor for something else, or am I really just writing about an old pair of jeans?

Intercession Observations

Over the past few weeks, I've been conspiring with Brother Maynard and Emerging Grace on the July issue of the Porpoise Diving Life e-zine; our theme was "Charis-missional". We managed to get all of our articles together and submitted by deadline, only to have Bill Dahl (the brains behind PDL) email a few days later to say his computer had eviscerated itself, and it will be August 15 before the Charis-missional issue will appear. In the meantime, the July issue of Next-Wave is now online, and Bob Hyatt snagged the previous post here (Through The Looking Glass) for that issue, but his cover story, Why I'm Not Done With Church, is really smoking up the comments. Bob certainly knows how to stir the pot, and this time is no exception!

Last weekend was a busy one for me, as I played bass with three different bands in two days. It was a total treat to play in a band that included Graham Ord, Russ Rosen (of Rise Up Band and March For Jesus Canada notoriety), an incredibly talented keyboardist and worship leader from Rwanda named Ezra, and Dave-ski, one of the most talented drummers I've ever met or played with.

(NOTE: not exactly the most recent picture of yours truly)

The day before, I had played bass with two bands (opening band and closing band) that were involved with Arise Kelowna, a twelve-hour worship/intercession gathering instigated by three teenaged girls, intended to coincide with The Call which occured in cities all over North America. Because my policy on playing bass is simply "play with whomever asks", I often end up being a part of a wide variety of venues and "streams" within the Body. This tends to keep me from being too narrow in my ecclesial connections, and helps me to more fully appreciate what God is doing in the Body.

Some interesting observations of this particular worship and intercession day:

1. The three teenagers did an incredible job of facilitating the whole thing.
   
   
2. The day was dominated by two main age groups: youth/young adults and grey-heads. Very, very few people my age (who weren't in some of the bands). Almost no pastors or church leaders. But lots of youth/young adults and lots of elderly saints.
   
   
3. The teenagers in particular seemed most focused on worship, silence before God, reading Scripture aloud, and a simple but very meaningful celebration of Communion.
   
   
4. The elderly saints loved reading Scripture aloud and singing some old hymns "from the floor". They even seemed to enjoy when we ripped through a high-volume rendition of Delirious' My Glorious. :)
   
   
5. I also had the privilege of playing with a local youth pastor in a four-piece band that included my son Caleb on lead guitar.
   
   
6. The usual suspects at these kind of intercessory gatherings -- the ones Wendy & I often refer to as the "wailers and flailers" -- were few in number, and the youth didn't give them much space or encouragement (without being rude).
   
   
7. Whenever (about two or three times, as I recall) somebody would make some grandiose prophecy about "the chosen generation that will take the land the previous generation failed to", one of the teenaged leaders would gently tell everyone that no generation was above another, and that we all walk together in seeing the Kingdom advance.
   
   
8. The pastors who did attend functioned mainly to keep it a "safe place" and to give the three teenaged girls backing as they led the day.

I'm glad I went. It was a refreshing experience, and I also want to think about what I observed a bit further.

Through The Looking-Glass

"Okay," said the Younger, "but let's assume that if we're going to talk about 'leadership', we have to agree on what makes someone a "good" leader, or a "strong" leader, or an "effective" leader, as opposed to what makes someone a weak leader, or whatever."

"Fine," replied the Elder, "pick a couple of opposites, just for the sake of argument, and let's start there."

The waitress interrupted them briefly to take their order. As she disappeared again in the bustle of the busy cafe, they resumed their conversation.

"Well, just to get things started, let's use terms like 'strong' versus 'weak' leaders," suggested the Younger. "Is that a reasonable place to start?"

"As good as any," concurred the Elder. "How would you describe a leader who you'd consider 'strong'?"

The Younger paused briefly, looking towards the pedestrians passing their outdoor table, without really seeing them. "Well, the obvious would be that a strong leader would be decisive. He or she would also have a clear sense of where they were going – what their goals were – and would be able to get people on board with seeing that vision come to pass."

The waitress returned with their drinks, and the conversation was briefly but appreciatively put on a momentary pause, as each took a moment to savor the taste of their favourite ale.

The Elder broke the silence first. "So, now you want to combine 'visionary' and 'strong' in your metaphor for leadership, then?"

"Why not?" shrugged the Younger. "A strong leader would need to be visionary. Goals, strategy, and implementation would be key characteristics."

"So a 'weak' leader would then be – what? Just the opposite?"

"Sort of," the Younger began cautiously, careful not to commit to the line of thinking too quickly. "I think a weak leader would be one who didn't know where he or she was going, and lacked the cajones to get things done. I mean, it's good to get input from the whole team, but the leader who doesn't have a strong sense of where they’re going already, runs the risk of getting scattered, side-tracked by others' vision, or fail to really get some momentum going towards the goals and strategies. That would be a 'weak' leader."

The Elder took another quaff of his pint, gazing benignly at the rustling leaves in the trees over the cafe's outdoor patio. "So, would it be safe to say that strong leadership is result-oriented?"

"Ahh... Ultimately, I guess so, but I wouldn't say it so black-and-white." The Younger paused to reflect a moment. "Maybe it would be best to say that a strong – but wise -- leader would include people in the decision-making process, but without actually compromising what he or she knows needs to be done."

The Elder glanced back at the Younger, tempted to challenge that conclusion, but decided to leave it for another time. Instead, he leaned over the table and suggested, "Let's substitute a different set of words for 'strong' and 'weak', shall we? How would you describe, say, a leader who is either 'mature' or 'immature'?"

"That's more of a character question, than a skill set, isn’t it?" the Younger pointed out, watching the facial expression of his friend across the table.

"Yes," smiled the Elder, "but just humour me on this one, okay?"

The Younger leaned back in his chair. "Well, let's see. A 'mature' leader... I guess he or she would be comfortable with who they are, and in who they are in Christ, so 'confident' would be the first thing that comes to mind."

"Could 'confident' also be seen as 'non-threatened'?" asked the Elder.

"Of course," shrugged the Younger, impatiently, "and the 'immature' leader would be just the opposite: unsure of themselves and their identity in Christ, and easily threatened. A mature leader would be more relaxed and patient with people, and an immature leader would put programs ahead of people and not notice the damage he or she was doing long term."

There was a significant pause, as the Elder again gazed at the leaves in the trees, the passers-by on the boulevard, and the bustle of the sidewalk eatery, enjoying his pint of ale. The Younger sensed something was afoot, and could only contain himself so long. "Okay, where are you going with this? I agree that all leaders should have good character. Isn't that what St. Paul was getting at in the Pastorals? What are you driving at?"

The gaze of the Elder turned to look in the eyes of the Younger. "Well," he began, "I just can't help but notice that the characteristics of what you label 'immature' most closely matches what you also described as 'strong'."

"And I wonder, is it possible that a truly strong leader might actually reflect your idea of 'mature', coupled with your version of 'weak'?"

The noise of the busy cafe seemed to recede into the far distance. For several moments, nothing was said.

Then the Elder continued, "What if a truly strong leader is one who is un-threatened enough to actually, honestly listen to the input of those around them, precisely because (a) they are secure in their identity in Christ, and (b) they know they need the voices of others to adequately hear what God is saying to the whole group? What if the 'weak' leader is really the one who insists on his or her own personal vision, and is too threatened to consider the voices of anyone else?"

"Maybe it takes more cajones to NOT insist on the leader's 'vision', or 'strategy', and to trust that the Spirit speaks through the Body, hmm?", he asked, gesturing with open hands.

The Younger sighed. "I'd still like to see something like that actually functioning. I mean, I'd like to believe you, but I guess I need to see it first."

The Elder smiled and nodded. "Of course, that only makes sense." Then he paused, frowning. "What was it that Ghandi once said about change?"

"'You must become the change you want to see,'" quoted the Younger. Shaking an accusatory finger at the Elder, he continued, "Nice try, but I want to see it first. Then I'll be more likely to do some risk-taking in that vein. Next week, then?"

"Wouldn't miss it," agreed the Elder, with a wink. "You're buying next time, if I'm not mistaken." And with that, they signaled the waitress for the bill.