So there's a big game this Sunday night. Some giant guys are playing some patriotic ones. They hail from two cities we don't care much about unless we live there. Most people have never met any of the players. But that doesn't matter. They will pummel each other over a funny shaped ball for about three hours. I don't know why they just don't give each team one. Then they wouldn't have to fight over it.
I know it's a big deal, because I've been invited to three different parties, even though they know we have worship services at the time. They have assured me that they would have room for one more. It's great to get the invite, but did they really think I might skip leading a service in order to see the game?
There's a lot to be said, though, about making room for one more. I remember when we used to have family dinners growing up. Frequently, my grandfather would come waltzing in just in time to sit down to eat. It was okay to do that where I come from. Friends could call a half hour before the meal and invite themselves over. Once in a while my relatives would call and say they were in town and would like to visit for a couple of days. An hour later they would be at the front door. This unfortunately happens less often now as families move geographically and emotionally farther and farther apart.
The tradition of the empty chair is a fixture at the greatest Jewish feast of the year, called Passover. Malachi reminded the Hebrews that an empty chair at the table, and a front door left slightly ajar, symbolically welcomes Elijah to come and join the feast.
These days people seem to be able to find room for one more person at the big party, or one more charge on the credit card, or one more shirt (on sale!), or one more toy in the garage, or one more dessert. I've been guilty of all of them. But what would it take to make room for one more name on our "need to visit list," one more hour of volunteer work, one more call to someone who is lonely or struggling in some way , or one more meal for someone who is hungry? Probably taking something away. Or as Jesus would say: "Stop building barns you don't need."
Monday, January 30, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
... on worship
I didn't really mind the weather-related extra drive time getting to work today. I just turned on the radio and listened to the local jazz station. There seemed to be many others on the road with supposedly more important places and events to get to in a hurry. Just glad they didn't hit me.
I've been converted. The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley, and Blood, Sweat and Tears was the music of my youth. I flirted with disco in the seventies, but everybody makes mistakes. Once I found out about jazz, I learned the error of my ways, and will never go back. I listen to it and play it now whenever I can. It's the music I hope to hear in heaven. I could go on (and have on a number of occasions) about the beauty and primal energy of its rhythms, intricate harmonies and sophisticated chord progressions; how it encompasses the passion of classical music, the soul of Gospel, the phrasing of poetry; and its roots in American culture. Most people don't care. That's okay.
What I like most about it is its "spirit," specifically the spirit and intent of improvisation. Jazz musicians pick an initial key and head in a certain direction. They usually play the "head" (the melody that's written down) for the first round through the song, then take turns bending and twisting it in various ways. The key, time signature and syncopated beats may change, too. No honest jazz soloist actually knows exactly all of what she or he is going to play ahead of time. They just "feel" it and go with the flow. That's what makes it so interesting and fun for some to listen to, and so frustrating for others.
There are times in life when it's good to precisely follow the rules and a prescribed plan ... when a pilot is flying the plan I'm on, for instance, or when a surgeon is operating on me Although, being acquainted with a few medical professionals, I know its not always an exact science. But most of life is just not that way. We head a certain direction, but things happen ... sometimes unexpectedly. Because of them, we may feel the blues or feel like dancing. We may feel like praying or feel like complaining. We may need to hear words of hope and comfort ourselves or offer them to someone else. But the "spirit" is in and through all of it.
You might not be surprised that that's how I view church life, too, particularly worship. Lots of people debate over the proper place of tradition and more contemporary elements within it. To me, it doesn't have to be one over against the other. It's both. Think of tradition as the "head" and contemporary expression as improvisation. Again, there are those who will argue the point. But that's my theory, and I'm sticking with it, unless I bend it and twist it around a little, of course.
I've been converted. The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley, and Blood, Sweat and Tears was the music of my youth. I flirted with disco in the seventies, but everybody makes mistakes. Once I found out about jazz, I learned the error of my ways, and will never go back. I listen to it and play it now whenever I can. It's the music I hope to hear in heaven. I could go on (and have on a number of occasions) about the beauty and primal energy of its rhythms, intricate harmonies and sophisticated chord progressions; how it encompasses the passion of classical music, the soul of Gospel, the phrasing of poetry; and its roots in American culture. Most people don't care. That's okay.
What I like most about it is its "spirit," specifically the spirit and intent of improvisation. Jazz musicians pick an initial key and head in a certain direction. They usually play the "head" (the melody that's written down) for the first round through the song, then take turns bending and twisting it in various ways. The key, time signature and syncopated beats may change, too. No honest jazz soloist actually knows exactly all of what she or he is going to play ahead of time. They just "feel" it and go with the flow. That's what makes it so interesting and fun for some to listen to, and so frustrating for others.
There are times in life when it's good to precisely follow the rules and a prescribed plan ... when a pilot is flying the plan I'm on, for instance, or when a surgeon is operating on me Although, being acquainted with a few medical professionals, I know its not always an exact science. But most of life is just not that way. We head a certain direction, but things happen ... sometimes unexpectedly. Because of them, we may feel the blues or feel like dancing. We may feel like praying or feel like complaining. We may need to hear words of hope and comfort ourselves or offer them to someone else. But the "spirit" is in and through all of it.
You might not be surprised that that's how I view church life, too, particularly worship. Lots of people debate over the proper place of tradition and more contemporary elements within it. To me, it doesn't have to be one over against the other. It's both. Think of tradition as the "head" and contemporary expression as improvisation. Again, there are those who will argue the point. But that's my theory, and I'm sticking with it, unless I bend it and twist it around a little, of course.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Setting the Block
I've been on a few construction sites in developing countries where brick and mortar are standard. Its usually good to hire an experienced local to lay the first few rows of blocks on a building, lest the walls go up crooked and look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The LTP might be a good tourist attraction, but it's not that desirable for practical purposes when it comes to schools, clinics and churches. Blocks need to be aligned with those below it, or your building may become a disaster waiting to happen.
The song "Tradition," from FIDDLER ON THE ROOF, comes to mind here. Those who have seen it know what I'm talking about. Those who haven't, maybe you can order it from Netflix next month. We build our future on the strength of the past.
When making the mortar that goes between the blocks, a person quickly learns that the right mixture combination is essential, otherwise the "mud" will be too runny or thick, and therefore not effective. It has to have the right ingredients and the right amount of each.
What might be in the mud when contemplating starting a new faith community? Let me suggest it include authentic spirituality, celebration, Biblical grounding, being non-judgmental and caring, and the desire to really make a difference in the world.
I would hope each person in that community would have the same values. Blocks have to be set in the same direction in order for the wall to hold up.
The song "Tradition," from FIDDLER ON THE ROOF, comes to mind here. Those who have seen it know what I'm talking about. Those who haven't, maybe you can order it from Netflix next month. We build our future on the strength of the past.
When making the mortar that goes between the blocks, a person quickly learns that the right mixture combination is essential, otherwise the "mud" will be too runny or thick, and therefore not effective. It has to have the right ingredients and the right amount of each.
What might be in the mud when contemplating starting a new faith community? Let me suggest it include authentic spirituality, celebration, Biblical grounding, being non-judgmental and caring, and the desire to really make a difference in the world.
I would hope each person in that community would have the same values. Blocks have to be set in the same direction in order for the wall to hold up.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Foundations
I'd like to move to California someday. My wife, Judy, and I have visited several times, from the north coast to "So Cal." It will be several years from now, of course, because retirement is still far off in the distance. So Cal doesn't have snow too often, and since I don't appreciate it as much as others do, it is a very desirable place in which to think about relocating down the road.
I know there are plenty of reasons not to live there. Chief among them would be pollution, the highway system, the high cost of living and a plethora of "celebrities." But I could get over all of that. My wife has one other concern, though, that I don't share quite to the same degree. She's worried that an earthquake is going to sooner or later shake the foundations of the place and half of the state will slip into the Pacific Ocean. She does have a point. And it does seem like there are more shake-ups worldwide that ever. Or maybe we're just more aware of them because we're thinking of moving to California.
People in the Golden State seem to be maximizing their chances of survival. They've long been drilled in what to do and where to go. Few homes are without "earthquake kits" stocked with emergency food, water, survival gear and first aid supplies.
That's all good and well, but I guess I'm a little more concerned about spiritual quakes and shakes people encounter in their daily lives, wherever they may live. Are we prepared for a maximum chance of survival if the supports we've built into our lives begin to sway an rock? What if we lose our job and our standard of living is threatened? What if our spouse or child dies suddenly? What if injury or an illness incapacitates us? What if depression or despair starts to choke us? What is it that remains solid in our lives when all of our familiar surroundings are shaken and taken away?
When people cross over the border from Mexico to the United States, I've heard the patrol officer usually asks five questions: 1) Who are you? 2) Where do you come from? 3) Where are you going? 4) What is your purpose? 5) How long will you be? They seem like good questions to me. I'll keep them in mind, just in case I ever do get to the west coast and decide to take a side trip to Baha. Better yet to think and pray about them regularly wherever I may be.
I know there are plenty of reasons not to live there. Chief among them would be pollution, the highway system, the high cost of living and a plethora of "celebrities." But I could get over all of that. My wife has one other concern, though, that I don't share quite to the same degree. She's worried that an earthquake is going to sooner or later shake the foundations of the place and half of the state will slip into the Pacific Ocean. She does have a point. And it does seem like there are more shake-ups worldwide that ever. Or maybe we're just more aware of them because we're thinking of moving to California.
People in the Golden State seem to be maximizing their chances of survival. They've long been drilled in what to do and where to go. Few homes are without "earthquake kits" stocked with emergency food, water, survival gear and first aid supplies.
That's all good and well, but I guess I'm a little more concerned about spiritual quakes and shakes people encounter in their daily lives, wherever they may live. Are we prepared for a maximum chance of survival if the supports we've built into our lives begin to sway an rock? What if we lose our job and our standard of living is threatened? What if our spouse or child dies suddenly? What if injury or an illness incapacitates us? What if depression or despair starts to choke us? What is it that remains solid in our lives when all of our familiar surroundings are shaken and taken away?
When people cross over the border from Mexico to the United States, I've heard the patrol officer usually asks five questions: 1) Who are you? 2) Where do you come from? 3) Where are you going? 4) What is your purpose? 5) How long will you be? They seem like good questions to me. I'll keep them in mind, just in case I ever do get to the west coast and decide to take a side trip to Baha. Better yet to think and pray about them regularly wherever I may be.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Launching
I have a nephew, Steven, who is studying Aeronautical Design and Engineering at the University of North Carolina. I have to admit that in social settings, when someone says "Well, its really not rocket science," its fun to brag that someone in my family actually understands the stuff. Not that I do. Talking with him about the math and physics of it all, I quickly get lost and confused with technological terms I can hardly pronounce, let alone firmly grasp. He's headed for a NASA internship after he completes his Masters. And I believe he'll make it to Cape Kennedy one day and help launch a space shuttle or something into the sky.
I know a little bit about launching. My wife and I have "launched" three children out of the house into college and other places. I've successfully launched a music business. It's stayed in orbit over two decades. I once launched a watermelon with a homemade catapult at camp. And I've launched watercraft of various kinds. But I've never launched a church ... until now. And I have to say its rewarding.
A team of about fifty of us are going to start regular worship services at the Northern Light Church campus this Sunday (January 8) at 5 p.m. We've been dreaming, scheming, praying, visioning, and working hard for eighteen months to get them going.. We'll be a quarter mile west of Sunfish Lake Blvd. on Hwy. #10 in Ramsey. If you like contemporary worship with soulful sax playing, serious discussion about spiritual issues, and good food and fellowship, come by and check us out.
I remember taking a tour of "Houston control" several years ago. Never imagined then my nephew could be working there some day. Never imagined I'd be helping to launch Northern Light, either. My oh my, the Lord works in mysterious ways.
I know a little bit about launching. My wife and I have "launched" three children out of the house into college and other places. I've successfully launched a music business. It's stayed in orbit over two decades. I once launched a watermelon with a homemade catapult at camp. And I've launched watercraft of various kinds. But I've never launched a church ... until now. And I have to say its rewarding.
A team of about fifty of us are going to start regular worship services at the Northern Light Church campus this Sunday (January 8) at 5 p.m. We've been dreaming, scheming, praying, visioning, and working hard for eighteen months to get them going.. We'll be a quarter mile west of Sunfish Lake Blvd. on Hwy. #10 in Ramsey. If you like contemporary worship with soulful sax playing, serious discussion about spiritual issues, and good food and fellowship, come by and check us out.
I remember taking a tour of "Houston control" several years ago. Never imagined then my nephew could be working there some day. Never imagined I'd be helping to launch Northern Light, either. My oh my, the Lord works in mysterious ways.
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