...Of Scary Questions

I've commented before about +Seth Godin , the American entrepeneurial guru who is challenging so many of the accepted norms of today: in marketing, in education, in work. I believe his ideas have great relevance in those areas, but also in the world of the 21st century church. If you are a person wrestling with the place of church today, and how we might do it differently to take our eyes of people and put them back on Jesus - the author and finisher of our faith, as the writer of the letter to the Hebrews calls Him.

Here is a link to some Seth's recent work on schools. Seth asks the brave question, 'What is the modern school for?' I'd really urge you to take 17 minutes and watch the TEDx Talk. If that gets you thinking, then go on to read some of the material on the site below the #youtube link. Dont be afraid to ask the question, "how is the way my school works going to help my children make a difference in their world, and not merely find a place in it?"

But here's the thing - and this is the question I'm wrestling with as a Pastor. Why not then ask the same questions about how we do church? Why not ask "what is the modern church for?" In the 21st century, are we serving people well by having a once-a-week performance led by a 'professor' of the faith - who rarely does it as well as a Tom Wright (you can follow his twitter account by clicking here) or a +Tim Keller - or might we be better with another model? A model that encourages us to think, not simply agree/ comply? (See this youtube clip for a great parody of church life under the current model).

For example, how about taking up one of Seth's ideas in the TEDx Talk, giving people the link to a high quality sermon or talk on a subject they are interested in, for them to watch during the week, and then inviting them on a Sunday morning to come and worship, and then break into groups with coffee to discuss what they watched, and to ask the questions together of what the talk raised for them? Note: not pre-prepared questions! That's just another way of setting boundaries of compliance.

What would the role of the Pastor be in that situation? Because she could not help every discussion group, wouldn't her importance on a Sunday fade? And be replaced by how she coached the discussion facilitators during the week? Would she cope with that loss of apparent significance? Would the congregation value the coaching role? Heck, would a congregation even come to such an event?

Perhaps I should try this. Because I want people to fulfil the words of the prophet Joel and dream dreams, and see visions. I want to #stopstealingdreams.

Is anyone with me? (And as a side point for my own reflection, is that even relevant?)

...of Fruit Trees, Puddleglum and a Donkey

When my beloved and I were about to get married we were given a most precious gift by another young couple. The gift has promoted communication, and spending time together. It has deepened our understanding of God, and of the world around us.  When our children came along, we used that same gift to build relationship with them too. It wasn't quite as effective with them, but that was more about my impatience, not the gift nor the children.

The gift was the full set of Narnia books by +C.S. Lewis .  C.S. Lewis was a gifted thinker and author in the mid-Twentieth Century, who converted to Christianity as a young man. The Narnia books are a series of seven stories written for children. Set in the fantasy land of Narnia, the stories recounted moments when people from our world entered that world, at the behest of Aslan - a great and mysterious lion.

We read them together, one chapter at a time, almost every night for a year. We loved the characters, the stories, and the magical way 'Narnia' cut to the very heart of key truths about Jesus Christ. We learned so much about each other, and about God. And when our children came along, we sought to share that experience with them as well. It may seem strange to a generation raised on amazing graphics and internet-based gaming, but the shared experience of imagination was a powerful bonding time. There was the fighting mouse; the giants of the North; a number of children from earth; an evil witch; and of course, Aslan. And mixed in were knights, kings, horses, and talking animals of all kinds.

Those nights huddled in or on a bed, with the rain falling outside, with my children (or wife!) asking for 'just one more chapter' remain some of my most precious memories. When people ask me how to build a relationship with their spouse, or their children, I always start by offering them 'Narnia'. "Just read them", I say. "And don't worry if older children tell you it is too baby-ish for them:  make reading a chapter a required event straight after dinner (which, by the way, should also be a complusory family gathering time). Let the Emperor work His deep magic in your lives. You'll be surprised at the life-long benefits you will gain from such a simple family ritual."

I know I have been. Even today, I can't walk past the well-worn gift box in which 'Narnia' sits, without recalling nights as a family straining to see, hear and touch that Lion, that Witch, that Wardrobe.

...of Lost Friends

I lost a dear friend this week. We have been close for over 30 years. It has been very had to focus on other things.

My friend - we'll call him John - and I met at University. A brilliant man, but with deep emotional scarring. Petrified that God would punish him for not loving properly. Certain that no-one could love God, and that therefore no-one could assume they had escaped the judgment of God. A man more comfortable with God's wrath than God's love. A man who for those 30 years barely inched his way toward a peace with God. During those 30 years he used his sharp mind and short temper to slash many people's egos and feelings - yet whose own emotional skin was so thin that the smallest of criticism sent him into weeks of distress and deep hurt. Many people came into his life, and many people went.

John - a gifted musician and linguist. A first class mind. Yet a man more comfortable using his hands than his other talents to make a living, as he wrestled with God. John - who believed that anyone making any act of will to serve God as by definition living a gospel of works, even though in his own life he struggled day after day after day to find a way to let God into his life (though he never saw it that way: in his mind, he grew with God only when he was the passive vessel).

And for those 30 years I had journeyed with him, always listening, rarely commenting (not that he would have noticed in the early years: at that time John talked at you, never with you). But John had made progress, and so in recent times I had felt I could critique and beg to differ, all the while remaining friends.

But I was wrong. Sadly, John is gone.

Oh, he is not dead. John is still very much alive. But this last week, after 30 years, I finally felt the lash of his tongue and the venom of his anger, when I responded to a comment he made questioning my commitment to one of my core values. For John, being right trumps relationship. For John, disagreement is a knife wound to a friendship. For John, there can ever only be one viewpoint: his viewpoint. All else is flawed, and must be rejected. So John said goodbye, finally and forever.

So today I pay my last respects to John. He has chosen 'truth' over 'love', having never realized that God is Love, and that we are called ever only to speak the truth in love. Of course truth matters; but so does relationship. How we hold these in balance is our journey with God, and with each other.

Good-bye John. I shall miss you.