Rain on the Windshield

The door of the dingy pub closed abruptly behind them, perhaps aided as much by an aversion to natural light and fresh air, as by the damp and chill breeze driven off the nearby ocean. Sealed now against outside intrusions, the effluvium of alcohol and a large number of hard-working bodies – along with the accompanying noise of laughter and conversation – was gone as if it had never existed.

Each instinctively burrowing a little deeper into their coats, the Younger and the Elder set off at a brisker pace than normal, the signs of approaching winter acknowledged without comment.

"The Rusty Parrot?" queried the Younger, as he glanced back at the name on the garish sign serving as a neon lure to the Elder's favourite watering hole. "Was the name chosen after sampling each and every drink on the menu?"

The Elder tucked his chin into the collar of his coat, hands balled into fists deep in his pockets. "Well, obviously they didn't have your marketing expertise back in the day when this pub first opened," he replied, favouring his young friend with a wink and a smile. "But if my math skills are still up to par, you were probably watching reruns of Gilligan's Island in diapers at the time."

"Gilligan's what?" dead-panned the Younger, feigning ignorance and innocence all at once. "Was that a geography show on Discovery?"

The Elder almost certainly said something worthy in response, but whatever it was, a sudden gust of frigid air, bringing with it the beginning of a cold rain, obscured it. Quickening their pace yet again, they arrived at the roadside location of the Elder's car, ignoring the sentinel presence of the parking meter; it was after five o'clock, and it was Friday.

As they fidgeted on either side of the car, the Elder fumbled with stiff fingers for the correct key, pretending not to hear the Younger muttering darkly about remote entry systems. With the popping sound of the lock being released, both quickly ducked into the cold, but thankfully dry, environs of the vehicle.

"Maybe I'll regret this," began the Younger, "but I wanted to ask you what you meant back there", as he gestured towards the Rusty Parrot, "about how ministry to the poor was another reason why a totally "flat" structure in leadership wouldn't work."

The Elder started the car, adjusting the climate controls to "heat", assuming of course, that waiting 20 minutes for the ancient engine to warm up was acceptable.

"Well, it brings some reality to the well-intentioned idea that a totally flat leadership structure is even possible (which I doubt), where even assuming it were possible, it still might not be wise." Although he had begun his answer looking straight ahead, gazing at the sizable raindrops being teased across the window by the cold wind, he turned to look his young friend in the eye at the end, as if to emphasize "wise".

Schooling himself to not break the steady gaze of the other, the Younger replied, "Help me understand."

"Okay," agreed the Elder, nodding and shifting his gaze back to the sight and sound of the rain pelting the windshield. "Let's start by assuming that you're involved in a regular, ongoing ministry among the poor, versus the normal practice of Christian suburbanites making the occasional "ministry field trip" into the less economically fortunate areas of town."

The Younger nodded without speaking; the Elder's thinly-disguised impatience for what he called "field trips" was familiar territory for them both. It was all part of their larger discussion on being "incarnational".

"Well," continued the Elder, "if you are expecting to have a regular, incarnational -- dare I say missional -- presence among the poor, it would only make sense that they would be considered part of your communitas, and not just one of your projects, eh?"

Again, the Younger nodded and waited, although for a moment -- but only for a very brief moment -- he felt a mild annoyance at how long it was taking the Elder's car to warm up. Cold air wafted over him from the "window and foot" setting.

The Elder spoke again. "People are poor and/or homeless for a variety of reasons, of course, but one of them is mental illness. Most of them often resist medication even when it's available, and many remain undiagnosed. You follow me so far?"

Again that look, before the Elder once more resumed his lecture directed at the windshield. "What would untreated -- or undiagnosed -- mental illness do to a flat leadership structure? A round table where everyone's voice is equally valid?"

The Elder paused for a moment, appearing to chew reflectively on the inside of one cheek. The Younger knew that his friend had strong feelings about his involvement with the poor and disenfranchised of their city, and that one of his recurrent "beefs" was the condescending attitudes of "field trippers"; the Younger instinctively felt the Elder's uneasiness in giving his blunt assessment.

Finally, the Elder spoke again, a little softer, "We can learn from the poor, yes. According to St. Matthew, we meet Jesus in the poor. But anyone who sincerely believes in a flat leadership approach must include the mentally ill in all decisions. And, frankly, there will be some -- if not many -- places where that would be inappropriate. And so, even if a flat structure were possible -- ignoring for a moment that there will always be people who seek to elevate themselves even in a so-called "flat" setting, becoming quite manipulative in the process, to preserve the façade of being a round table -- it would not be wise, unless you plan to keep the poor OUT of your communitas."

"Sort of like creating a missional 'court of the Gentiles', eh?", suggested the Younger, carefully. He was intrigued by his friend's uncharacteristic quietness, especially on the subject of the poor. "I think I see what you're getting at; basically, you're saying that a 'round table' or flat leadership structure only works if everyone is exactly the same. So, again, help me understand -- then why are people so set on having a group without leaders, if it's not really possible? Or wise?"

The Elder started suddenly, as if jarred out of distracting thoughts elsewhere. The Younger suddenly realized that the heater was finally working, and that they had fogged up all the windows. Putting the car into gear, the Elder smiled and quipped, "This is how rumours get started," before easing into traffic.

"Fear." He said suddenly, as they navigated the turning lane.

"And distrust," he added a moment later, before the Younger could comment. "Fear of being controlled, and distrust of others, for the same reason. And neither is a good motivational emotion for choosing -- or rejecting -- a leadership structure."

And as the rain continued to pelt their windshield, bravely held at bay by the squeaking wipers, they continued on in silence, each deep in his own thoughts.

Helter Celtic

I was teaching at YWAM Vancouver a couple of weeks ago, and ran into several of their staff who proudly wear kilts as part of their daily attire, despite have pretty much ZERO Celtic roots – "It's like being naked, but with pockets", said one with great dignity and an obvious sense of enlightenment.

One of the things I really enjoy about YWAM is its cross-cultural flavour and the synergy of different nations and cultures working together even before we arrive "on site" in a foreign country for short-term outreach. One of the cool things is also seeing how the cross-pollination of cultures encourages each of us to delve back into our own cultural histories – in my case, my predominantly Scottish and Irish roots.

But far more important, it was such an honour to speak to the DTS students in Vancouver, and to be trusted with the hearing of some of their painful stories of abuse and alienation, and walk with them into a new season of forgiveness and freedom.

And to have gotten to know some cultures far outside my norm – particularly the Koreans at our base in Kelowna – became an unexpected source of healing for some Vancouver students. If I hadn't gotten more familiar with Korean culture through my own base (almost half of the staff & student mix is from South Korea, as is a fair amount of our daily cuisine), I would have missed some very important clues for ministry in Vancouver. It's one of those things that make you feel full of gratitude and simultaneously very small and humbled at the same time.

It's almost numbing sometimes, hearing the levels of devastation and betrayal in some of these precious saints, but to be one of many instruments of healing in their lives… well, it just doesn’t get any better than that.

So, my apologies for the paucity of regular blogging here this past month, but the Kingdom was advancing, and that seemed a more pressing priority.

But it's also good to be back!

Charismissional Addition

Emerging Grace, the mighty digital artiste behind the notorious famous Missional Posters, has now created a new poster for "Charismissional". As always, Grace has a way with words and with pairing said words with digital art.

On the same note, I was recently honoured to be the Guest Editor on the October issue of the Porpoise Diving Life, and Emerging Grace and Brother Maynard accepted my invitation to put together an issue on the topic of "Charis-Missional". We three scribes agreed to also publish the articles on our respective blogs, so I've included a new icon in my sidebar to link permanently into a Charis-Missional subsection of this blog.

Any comments on the Charis-Missional articles can be left on this post, or you could email any of us directly -- although it's usually more fun to discuss things en masse on one of our blogs!

Tuning In & Turning On

I can't help it.

Whenever I see teenagers and/or twenty-somethings hit that moment of spiritual discovery when they "get" that God speaks to individuals and not just anointed superstars, I get excited.

This past week, our DTS students were learning about "Hearing The Voice Of God", and to end the week, we had them hanging out in the lounge to "practice" and pray encouragement for each other.

It wasn't an activity that we take lightly, but on the other hand, in order to not make it feel coerced or forced, we also set no time limit on it -- when they were done, they were done.

Seven students and two staff (Wendy & I) sat down together at 9:30 AM, and while we had a coffee break mid-morning and an hour to enjoy lunch, by the time we'd waited on God for each person, shared what we felt God was showing us, and praying for each person -- at the end of it, we realized that we had been at it from 9:30 AM until 3:15 PM, and the students were all asking how soon we could do it again.

For several, this was outside their experience and church background, and they were some of the most excited ones. Others had grown up in settings where only "important people" seemed to hear from God, and were simultaneously thrilled and encouraged to realize that God speaks to anyone who takes the time to listen.

I've been working with this age group for 23 years, and I'll NEVER get bored with these "a-HA!" moments of seeing people "get it", and the excitement and awe in their faces.

White Hats

Everybody needs some friends who qualify as "the guys in the white hats" -- the good guys, the compadres, the ones who've got your back when you need it most.

For reasons that I cannot share publicly, I am indebted to the prayers, support and wise counsel of:

• Brother Maynard
  
• Emerging Grace
  
• Jamie Arpin-Ricci
  
• Bill Kinnon

Truly, the riders in the white hats.

Not to be confused with these lads.Muchas gracias, mis compañeros. I owe you big time.

Whips, Flames, & Morpheus the Worship Leader

I was sixteen years old the first time I led worship. Typical: it was at a summer camp, and I was the only teenaged staff member who could play guitar, so I became the default worship leader. Didn't matter that I had never sung in public (my elementary school teachers told my parents I was tone deaf, and my high school music teacher said I had absolutely zero musical talent), or that I had only been playing guitar for about eight months and had a special abhorrence for the aptly-named "F-chord".

It's another example to me of God's infinitely creative and ironic sense of humour, in that I would later be a worship/youth pastor in a denomination known for its worship (Vineyard Canada). And although there are in all likelihood still some who think I'm tone-deaf and have no talent, worship leading has been a significant part of my life ever since.

During the past decades of worship leading and/or being a backup musician to folks like Graham Ord, Norm Strauss, Andrew Smith, and David Ruis, I have observed a number of styles of leading worship, and I'd like to contrast two of them.

The first I call the "whips and flames" approach. This is the kind of worship leader (NOTE: none of the linked guys ever did this!) that forces people through all kinds of performance hoops. Perhaps you've suffered under met a few of this type.

For example, there's that old song "Undignified" which includes the weighty lyric:

I will dance, I will sing
To be mad for my King
Nothing, Lord, is hindering the passion in my soul

And I'll become even more undignified that this
(repeat last line until eyes glass over)

I don't want to pick on Matt Redman (and I'll admit to having played this song about ten or twelve years ago, myself), but where this gets into "whips and flames" is where the worship leader starts the song, notices that people aren't "performing" quite the way the leader had envisioned would happen when s/he was making up the worship set list, and stops the band to cry passionately:

"Don't you guys love Jesus? Look at the words!! Undignified! Dance! C'mon, let's get with it, people!"

...and then restarts the song and cracks the whip so that the congregation feels like it has no option but to jump through the hoop of performance fire.

There are many variations on this theme, including the dreaded Worship Leading With Cattle Prod, but what they all have in common is the musical equivalent of threatening/beating people with pointed sticks until they perform as the worship leader thinks they should be, usually presented as if Jesus Himself feels the same way.

The other approach, which I think more accurately reflects the true heart and job description of a worship leader, would best be exemplified by the postmodern prophet Morpheus, of The Matrix.

"I can only show you the door, Neo. You're the one that has to walk through it."

That's what worship leaders are supposed to be doing.

Worship leaders function as the maitre de, or the doorman, who invites, beckons, and shows people the door, but allows them the freedom to walk through it, each in his or her own way, and to worship in freedom, not in a prescribed, pre-programmed, lock-step agenda.

"Freedom" will rarely, if ever, look like everyone doing the same thing, at the same time. If it's orchestrated from the front, it can never be called "freedom". But if worship leaders emulate Morpheus, then we'll begin to see real worship, real freedom, and real hunger for more of Jesus.