Closing the Last Chapter

Thursday, November 19, 2009

I haven't posted for a few days because I've been working mainly on this post...and this is likely to be one of the most vulnerable, personal posts I've ever put on this blog. So be nice. :)

A couple of weeks ago, The Wild One and I started having a conversation about this transitional place we are in, trying to get settled in Denver, and the challenges we're dealing with. And she made the observation that I had grown increasingly negative in my outlook over time, tending only to see the glass half-empty. It wasn't a mean-spirited conversation at all; but she said it partly because she wanted to understand what was behind it, and partly because in our situation, we really need a positive, can-do attitude, and my pessimism was making it difficult for her to keep her own spirits up. A fair assessment.

I grappled with this for days afterward, not because I was defensive over it--in fact, I saw right away that she was telling the truth--but because I myself didn't fully understand why I had become so negative. That just really isn't me; I'm the encourager in our family, the guy who always says, "Everything's going to be alright" even when I haven't got the slightest idea how things are going to work out. And I've been right. :) Got has been faithful to us through every trial.

But somewhere through the trials of the past ten years, something got broken inside. I knew it was so, but I couldn't quite pinpoint just when it happened, or why. I just knew that even after things improved for us and we were given rest from our struggles, I still kept one eye open, looking for the other shoe to drop. Even through this transition to Denver, while I had enough understanding to try to have hope for the future, I still have had this I'll-believe-it-when-I-see-it attidude. And that just isn't the me I've grown up with. That's the broken me.

The Wild One was right; until I found a way to reconcile this, I wasn't going to fully embrace this new season we're in. So I soul-searched.

I don't want to spend a lot of time diving back into the past here, and a lot of my readers already know my story; but the past ten years in Tulsa were very difficult for us. God had His own purposes in sending us there, and we did our best to obey to the last. But there was such a resistance in that place that almost nothing we tried worked. The only place where we felt any kind of success was in the house church we led, and eventually that just ran its course. Over that time, we dealt with complacency from people in general; resistance and even hostility from other church leadership; and occasionally betrayal and sabotage from within our own community. (The pastors and former pastors reading this are nodding their heads right now--that part's not really anything new.) But on a deep emotional level, it did something to me.

As the conversation continued over the next couple of days, I talked a lot about the doubts I had, how so many things we had believed God for had failed, how many things didn't work out the way we'd thought, all the disappointments. I explained that I was negative because I just didn't want to get disappointed again. But all that talk seemed shallow, like I wasn't really getting to the root cause. And at some point in the conversation--I don't remember how, exactly--one of us said something that opened the floodgates for me. And I knew in that moment what it was.

The root of my negativity wasn't failure. Everyone fails. The root was...rejection.

I don't intend this to sound narcissistic, only serving as an explanation...but at every other place in my life, I'd had the experience of my gifts making room for me, bringing me favor, and opening doors. In the previous season in Texas, before we came to Tulsa, we'd seen six years of favor and growth, and were gaining recognition even on a state level with worship music. I've surmised that had I stayed on that path, I would probably have landed a record deal as a worship leader. When we came to Tulsa...that all fell flat, almost inexplicably. The only time anyone showed interest in my gifts were when they wanted to exploit them to serve their own agendas. Everything was political, and for conscience' sake I just couldn't play ball. I already knew too much. And so...instead of my gifts being seen as an asset to kingdom purposes among the spiritual leadership in Tulsa, they were viewed--and I was treated--as a threat. And that spoke a message deep into my soul. And eventually I believed it.

The message went something like this: You are worthless. You are unwanted. Nobody wants whatever it is you think you have to offer. You are nothing, and you have nothing. You have no value, and neither do your gifts.

It wasn't the resistance itself, or the message that was sent; it was that somewhere along the way, I began to believe the message. I believed I had no worth, that my talents and skills had no worth. I believed that whatever happened, or didn't happen, must somehow be my fault. And so I believed that no one else would appreciate whatever I had to offer--and if they showed any appreciation, it was likely because they had some hidden angle.

Yeah. Talk about negative.

And so even in recent days, in a different place, when someone would speak encouragement to me, or show appreciation--even if I thought they were genuine--I would smile and thank them for their kindness. But I wouldn't believe them. I was worthless. My gifts were worthless. That was my truth.

All the reality of this came pouring out of my soul in that moment of grief a couple of weeks ago, when the floodgates opened. I realized I had never even allowed myself to grieve the loss of the past season. And so I mourned. I mourned over feeling utterly unwanted. I mourned over what could have been, that would never be, in Tulsa. I mourned over the sense of abandonment and neglect, the fact that I had come to Tulsa with such hope and love in my heart for the church, only to be scorned--to be all but told that no one wanted what I had to offer. I let myself grieve the loss. And I also recognized truth in that moment:

It was true that I had been rejected; it was not true that I was unacceptable, or worthless.

It was true that my gifts had been despised; it was not true that my gifts were worthless.

It was true that I had made mistakes; it was not true that the failures were all my fault.

It was true that I was mistreated; it was not true that I deserved it.

And as I acknowleged truth in my soul, in that moment of grief, something changed again, deep within.

And now I'm all better! Praise God!

Sorry...couldn't resist putting my tongue in my cheek for a moment. :) But something really did change inside. It was a seed of something good, something healing, a root that is spreading within me, and giving me fresh hope. It's making me believe something different about myself, and it's making me actually believe that things can be different here. That it can be better. That we really can do what we love, and that it's okay. All the things we came here to do...we can do them. And we can do something that makes a difference.

Hope.

The Wild One tells me my outlook has significantly improved since that moment. I just couldn't dive into this next chapter of life with both feet...until I had closed the last chapter.

I know it will take time. But I am a step or two closer to recovering the person I used to know.

The Bubble (excerpt)

Monday, November 16, 2009

From my recent post at Communitas Collective. (Go check the new site...lots of updates!)

I lived inside a bubble long ago

Where all inside was safe and sterilized

With all the evils of the great unknown

Conveniently ignored and hid from view

And others lived within the bubble, too

And we enjoyed the bliss of ignorance

Our bubble-world, to us utopia

Protecting us from chance and circumstance

And everything made sense within the walls

A micro-world, with everything controlled

Unanswered questions gnawing at our souls

Could easily be shoved beyond the veil

(There's more...read the rest here...)

A Few Moments of Quiet

Sunday, November 15, 2009

So it's Sunday morning, and while you are probably asleep, I am up even earlier than usual. I was prepared to drive through the snowstorm to the gathering where I lead worship. Got a call--it's cancelled.

Just snowy enough to cancel my commitments; not quite snowy enough to stop me from walking down to my favorite blogging spot. :) Can't beat that with a stick. So here I am, blogging away for your indifferent disinterest reading pleasure.

It's been a mixed bag these days for me and mine. We're so glad to be here in Denver, love the wonder of a new climate, love the beauty of the surroundings, love the pace of life, and love the relationships we're forming. But we're also in the nitty-gritty of trying to earn our keep and pay the bills in the day to day, while trying to look ahead and build a foundation for the future--not just survive. The pressures of the immediate can be overwhelming at times, and it's a discipline for us to keep perspective in those moments.

But that's what we came here for. Fresh perspective.

I don't want to sound either new-agey or midlife-crisis-ey here...but it's like, especially in the last season, we spent so much time and energy trying to survive moment to moment that we lost perspective and stopped living life, embracing the moment in the now. "Living life" was pushed into some unknown date in the future, some day that would just magically come if we just trudged through enough crap and didn't give up.

Looking back, I think we got the not-giving-up part right. What we were missing was that life wasn't in the future when all our circumstances turned rosy. Life is now. It always is. And too many of us get caught in the cycle of survival, noses to the grindstone, where we stop living and start just existing. And we miss the moments, because we think life is over the next hill, past the next obstacle...never stopping to realize that life is now--even the difficult moments we live through are part of our story, part of our adventure.

I know a lot of folks didn't care much for the movie Revolutionary Road because it was such a sad, tragic tale. But for me, it spoke volumes. I could see in the lives of the characters the classic dilemma we face in our rat-race world, where it seems we must choose between doing what's needed to survive and live a "normal" life (whatever that is) and pursuing our passions--those things, those dreams that makes us want to live. Never was the choice so plain as with the couple in the movie, and their decision to stay within the lines literally cost them everything. It reinforced to me what I had already been grappling with deep inside, and I came away going, "Man--I do not want to be those people."

Maybe I'm just a dreamer, but I can't shake the conviction that we aren't put here on this planet just to find a way to muddle through, and I reject the notion that we have to choose between living and existing. I want to do those things that make me live inside (that is, pursue my God-given passions)...AND I want to pay the bills. In short--I want it all. That's not asking too much, now is it? :)

And so I think we're looking at all these things through a new set of eyes these days, always asking ourselves what solutions to the everyday challenges will lay groundwork for the future, not just get us by--and not forgetting to live these moments along the way.

I think it's best said in a lyric fragment I came up with--which will likely turn into a song (so don't steal it):

I can't change the past
And I can't see the future
But I don't want to miss what happens in between

Happy Sunday.

The Beer We'll Drink in Heaven...I Guess

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

So tonight, a new pub/restaurant that's opening up just across the street had an open house and invited the neighborhood to come have free food and drinks before their grand opening tomorrow. So we walked the two minutes into town to check it out. And besides the free food that kept coming out of the kitchen, they offered free stuff from the bar. And they had the beer in the picture on draft.

I remembered how in his book Exiles, Michael Frost tells the story of how Arthur Guinness developed Guinness Beer. And in the book he says, "It's the beer we'll drink in heaven." So since it was free...I tried it.

After all, if we're drinking this beer in heaven, I figure I'd better get used to it.

I tried to like it. I really did. I told myself I was a manly man for drinking half a glass of it.

But when I drank it, I didn't think of heaven. All I could think of was the other place.

So in heaven, I guess I'll be drinking at the kiddie table. I hope they have Coca- Cola.

Who Does She Think She Is?

Monday, November 9, 2009

Yesterday afternoon, blogger friend Kathy invited some folks over to her house to watch a movie and discuss it, and the family and I went. We can do that now, being that we now live near her. :)

The movie was called Who Does She Think She Is?, a documentary about women in the arts, their struggles to find their voice, the obstacles they face--and the price they often pay for their choices. (No--I was not the only man in attendance.) The movie made was by the same people who made the Oscar-winning film Born into Brothels.

As a bit of disclaimer, in case you ever view the film, it is not from a Christian perspective. There is a lot of stuff in there about goddess worship, and a slanted historical perspective on religion in general; but there is also a lot of good information, and the stories and emotions that are captured on film are real. Also, one of the artists featured in the documentary was a pastor's wife with a Christian background. So as one of my former pastors used to say, "Eat the grass, and spit out the sticks." :)

That said--the movie obviously got me thinking again about the way our culture (and indeed many cultures throughout history) have suppressed women. I've talked a lot here about how the church has fallen into step with this mentality by the mis-contextualization of a few Scriptures, and I won't rehash that argument here. Today, I'm thinking about the bigger picture, about the plight of women in general, and about how difficult it has been, and still is, for them to find a voice--and how this effectively cripples us as a race of beings from being all we could be.

One eye-opening fact the film brought out through the stories of the featured artists is that in the artistic community, men still have the power and the dominant voice. Of all the art featured in museums, the number of pieces created by women generally total less than ten percent. Far less, actually. Yet over 80 percent of the people currently studying art as a profession are...female! It does not take a lot of number crunching to see the inconsistency, or to figure out that the vast majority of art being created is never being seen or appreciated by the wider public. As difficult as it is for a male artist to gain visibility--for females, the obstacles are multiplied by a factor of ten. And they are the ones currently producing the most art!

I suppose these statistics hit home to me because as a musician, I'm an artist myself, and I know the challenges that exist for artists in general to be able to make a living at their art. In a culture where women are given more and more opportunity, I was astounded to learn how unbalanced the creative culture still is against them. And that doesn't even begin to speak to the hits women artists take on the social level, when it comes to balancing marriage and family duties, etc.

My mind had already been on this a little bit, and the movie simply injected some adrenaline into it. One of my current writing projects involves researching famous classical composers, which I'm enjoying because it's rekindling memories from my college studies of music history. At one point my editor--a female--suggested adding a few women composers to the list. I was delighted and ashamed in the same moment--because I realized I couldn't think of any female composers. Correction--I knew of Clara Schumann, and no others. As a music major in college, with all my studies of music over the years--only one female composer came to mind. I even had it in my head that there were no female composers at that time--the social mores of the day would simply have prevented it.

But it only took a few mouse clicks and a quick Internet search to discover how wrong I was. I dare you to look at this list on Wikipedia and try counting the names of women composers on the list. I had to stop after 170 because I found myself suddenly cross eyed, and I wasn't even halfway through the list. Hundreds and hundreds of females who studied and wrote music, most of whose names I had never heard. The list grows exponentially longer beginning in the 1700s, and the 20th century is packed with them--but I don't believe women just started writing more music at that time. Their names just weren't on the record. The implications of this are absolutely staggering--potentially thousands of women through the centuries who were creating music worthy of their male counterparts, whose music, and names, are not even remembered.

Just because they were women. And because as women, their contributions were largely deemed unimportant.

And although there are more and more women composers being recognized today--I still have to say I don't know most of their names, either. So although they are at least being documented, most of their music is still unknown, even in the artistic community. They can create, but they still have little or no voice. (The Director has even recognized this trend in his field of interest--the number of female movie directors has, in fact, shrunk in the past 10 years.)

I say all this simply to say...we still have a problem. Men who believe we've settled the women equality issue are simply deceiving themselves. These are people whom God has gifted every bit as much as we--and it's not just about painting or composition. These statistics are simply symptoms of a greater problem.

In the past few months, it has become a passion of mine, not only to be a male ally and advocate for restoring the voice of women, but to urge other men to do the same. I cannot stress this enough: when the brainpower and creativity of over 50 percent of the human race is disqualified over an unrelated issue such as gender, the entire race suffers. We sell ourselves short when we pass over our sisters--it's just that simple.

It's time we men stop merely gaining inspiration from the female body, and start drawing some from the female mind, and the female soul.

In my view, Who Does She Think She Is? is not just a film to empower women. It is a film men need to see, hearing the message with an open heart. I challenge men to take 90 minutes to watch the movie--and then take a few minutes to look in the mirror.

Zombie Christians

Friday, November 6, 2009

I suppose this post would have been more timely last weekend.... :)

Have you ever noticed, those of you with a church background (particularly of the more charismatic type), that there is often a vibe in church that our minds are an obstacle to receiving from God? Most of the time it's subtle; other times, not so subtle. But the underlying premise is that we receive from God by the Spirit in ways that our natural minds cannot understand, and that if we try to discern with our minds, it will become a stumbling block to us. You can pick up this vibe in the way things are worded--when we are encouraged in some way to "bypass our minds" when God is manifesting His presence in some way, or when we are trying to get hold of some revelation, or when we are praying in tongues (again, for you charismatic folk).

I was programmed most of my life with this idea, and like most imbalances in church, it has a nugget of truth in it. I do believe that there is much about an infinite God that our finite minds couldn't possibly comprehend--that our reasoning is often flawed and incomplete when trying to figure God out. I know of atheists who actually want to believe in God, but simply can't get around the logic in their minds. So yes, our mind can get in the way. But we take it a bit farther and we act as though our mind is an enemy to receiving from God. I've been in meetings where people are almost encouraged to try to turn off their brains so they can better receive from God.

Yep. I'm not kidding.

Where I think this can be even more dangerous is in the manipulations and spiritual abuse (see Kathy's recent post) that often occur in churches, where the members are discouraged from questioning the doctrine of the church or the judgment of the leadership. Again--turn off our minds, be good little sheep, and just follow. Anyone who questions is often presumed divisive, when actually that person is probably just trying to understand.

But here are some things I realize:

1. God created our minds for a reason. He made us intelligent beings on purpose, with both the capacity for reason and the freedom to choose. Yes, our minds can be turned into an obstacle; but so can just about anything else. Why would He want us to turn our brains off?
2. In my experience, whenever I sense God speaking to me or revealing something to me...it comes to me as a thought in my mind. It may have its source in the spirit realm, but it translates to my brain. If that's the conduit by which I receive--what would be the point of bypassing it?

I guess what I'm saying is that we're overthinking this thinking thing. :)

So what about when our minds do get in the way--when we stumble over the things of God when we can't figure them out? I believe this is not the time to "bypass the mind" so the "spirit" can take over; there's a difference between soul and spirit, but we focus too much on which is which, when sometimes there's a better way.

I believe that when our minds get hung up on the details, that's where faith comes in. Faith is trusting in God when it doesn't make sense; that's what faith is for! To me, faith is when I go, "Okay, God, I don't get this, but I trust You anyway. If you say it's so, I'm willing to take You at Your word." It's not about becoming some sort of Zombie Christians just being dragged around by the Holy Spirit or something; it's about letting faith take over when our reasoning falls short. That, I believe, is a lot better than trying to "get around" our minds; instead of trying to do that, we should be subjecting our minds to the lordship of Christ by faith, allowing Him to guide our reason. Not bypass it.

God has no use for Zombie Christians. Only submitted ones. Just sayin'. :)

On How We Ought Not to Just Talk About the Bad Stuff, and Start Doing Something Different

Monday, November 2, 2009

Conversations from both here and over at Communitas Collective have got my mind running, so thought I'd better jot these thoughts down before I forget. :)

My blogger friend Kansas Bob, and newer blogger friend Al, together sort of made the point that it is not really enough for those of us disenfranchised folk to just point out the stuff that's wrong with institutional forms of church...that we need to live out the positive effects of change in our lives. I truly agree with this, and I think it's important to process that idea, to embrace the truth of it more than just verbally assent to it.

I have a few thoughts on this, and in setting them down here, I hope it does not come off as a defense of my own blog. Rather, it's me taking a bit of mental inventory, to see whether there is a balance between confronting what is wrong and seeking out what is right. So in no particular order, here are some of the thoughts that are coming to mind:

1. It is important not to shrink back from discussing what is wrong with the way we "do church" even when it makes people uncomfortable. Many Christians do not consider anything to be wrong with the church as we have made it; others have a gut feeling that something is amok, but feel alone in their convictions. Talking about these things is important because first of all, how can we find a better way if we don't first admit our way isn't working? And second...it does help us to know we aren't the only ones seeing it. That said--this is sort of like a grieving process, dealing with a death of sorts, and different ones of us are in different stages--denial, anger, bargaining, and acceptance. Those further along the process are more ready to discuss positive alternatives and aren't going to want to keep talking about the negatives. (In fact, I'm rapidly coming to that place myself.) But I have also seen that by continuing to bring up these issues, I've had several rounds of new visitors in the past 2 years who are just coming into that process and are greatly relating to what is being said. I think it's important to allow these people the same chance to process things by reading the blog as I have had by writing it.
2. If all we do is talk about the negatives, the process will remain incomplete. Exposing what is wrong with the church is not the solution in itself--it is only the warning alarm. If there's a wrong way to do something, then there is a right way, also--usually more than one right way. Part of our personal process has to be a willingness to seek out those better ways, and then live in the truth of those ways. On this blog, you can usually identify this part of the process when I start asking "what if?" That's me dreaming about what a better way might look like. (This conviction has also been a huge part of our recent move to Denver--an attempt to put feet to what we have learned and what we are dreaming about.)
3. Admittedly, the negatives I discuss are usually specific, and the positive alternatives are usually vague. There's a very good reason for this. The things that are wrong are entrenched in our church systems, and we have a tangible experience with them--so it's understandable that we talk about them in detail. They are the past, the part of this that is 20/20. It's the part we know. The positive alternatives--not so much. They are the future, the part we don't see as clearly. Plus, in coming out of a system filled with religious absolutes, the last thing we want to do is create another set of religious absolutes by claiming "THIS is the way it should be done." Whatever the better way is, we each need to own that revelation and that journey as God leads us. So when I talk about a better way to do something, I usually make it very personal--"this is what is working for me these days." And I usually let people fill in the details, because it is still a process that needs flexibility.
4. This cannot be overstated: Any community that is based on a mutual dislike of someone or something else is not healthy and will not last for long--and that includes online community. I have never intended this to be a "church bashing" blog, and if it has come off that way to more than a few readers, then I'm sorry for the miscommunication. I would hope that any community that forms around this conversation (which is certainly not limited to this blog) is not based on a distaste for what has been, but a mutual desire to find something better. And ultimately the glue that binds the church together is Christ alone. A lot of the processing done here is about stripping off the extraneous, unnecessary stuff of our faith, to get back to Christ as center--the heart of all that matters about the church. That's the goal, anyway--even if we sometimes fall short of it.