nakedpastor

“Everywhere you turn, hierarchies are being challenged from below or transforming themselves from top-down structures into more horizontal and collaborative ones” (Thomas L. Friedman, The World is Flat. A Brief History of the Twenty-First Century, p. 44).

Like I’ve been saying, transform or be transformed! Walk your path or be dragged (Carl Jung)! Resistance is futile (the Borg)! I’m confident there is a new way of being human, a new way of being a pastor, and a new way of being a church. There is something completely new and uncreated, completely unforeseen, completely fresh. But I’m also convinced that we must posture ourselves to receive it. Are we ready, able, and willing?

Isaiah, the Old Testament prophet, reports a promise of God:
“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them…” (42: 14-16).

Is it possible to take this seriously? Is it possible to follow paradigms no longer, old or new, borrowed from other institutions, books, or leaders, but to become truly innovative and creative in the way God is: ex nihilo (from nothing!), to cross all boundaries and stretch wide the corners of our tents and cross new frontiers and boldly go where no one has gone before?

I’m challenging all! It demands enormous courage. Incredible risks must be taken. But we will be guided one step at a time, if only we accept our blindness. It is a frightening way to lead because we always plot out where we’d like to go, or where we are actually going. We like to be and appear organized, precocious and visionary. This is how we’ve always done it, and where has it gotten us? We have only renovated the old and created recycled paradigms. True leadership means one day at a time. It appears haphazard and messy, but this is what it is like to walk blindly along unfamiliar paths.

If we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit (Galatians 5: 25). This is a new paradigm that isn’t a paradigm. It demands tight relationship with the Spirit. But it also demands a tight relationship with the leadership. There has to be trust, longsuffering, and patience. It is high-risk, and probably too high risk for investors. It is like mountain climbing on a mountain face you’ve never been on. You have no idea where the next spike will go until you are right upon it. You can plot your general direction—“Up!”— but that’s about all the pre-planning you can do. What it takes is self-preparation more than anything. Are we ready to make such an ascent?

Unless we radically change the way we do, or are the church, we are in trouble. We are doomed to the endless cycle of human invention, even if it is ingenious. The problem is that we only think inside the box. It is the mind’s predicament to limit itself to the only categories it knows. It collects what the eyes see and the ears hear to assemble thoughts. The mind can only conceive of things it creates with the raw matter it receives. It can only construct with the materials it is given. Our minds have taken years building its arsenal of materials, components, and parts. The mind’s thoughts have accumulated for years, and we are at least reluctant, if not vehemently opposed to, not using these accumulated materials to build our vision of what should be next. It is repugnant to our minds to consider for a second that it doesn’t have the parts to conceive the next step.

What if we for a moment truly leaned NOT on our own understanding, and put the mind at rest? What if we stopped our brains from working in their normal patterns? What if we considered that the answer lies beyond our thoughts, beyond our intelligence, beyond human wisdom? Are we finally tired of strategizing, brain-storming, envisioning, concocting, futuring, and paradigm-busting? I am! What about waiting? What about calming ourselves, stilling our minds, and simply allowing what has been prepared for us to be birthed in our midst?

I for one believe that this is not only a more biblical posture, but— all spirituality and religion aside— a more humane one.

“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him…” (1 Corinthians 2:9).

Our church feels like it is on to something important. For years, we have lingered in the shadow of the valley of death, or so it seems. Not that there haven’t been good times. There have. But they have been small oasis along the long journey of attrition. There feels like a fresh breeze, a new stirring, a suspicious tremble of life. I’ve been cautious to say anything because I’ve said things before, like “We’re coming around a corner!” After saying that more than four times, you can safely conclude you’ve just walked around the block… around in circles. But, others are saying it now, and I’m Amen-ing them. It feels like something really good is coming.

At the same time, I am aware that to always look into the future for the real presence of God or for true life or a sense of having arrived has its dangers. It can breed discontent with the present. It can underestimate the importance of what the Spirit is doing NOW! It can disparage the fullness of God at this minute. God won’t be any more present than he is today. However, like I’ve said before, perhaps WE can be more present tomorrow. Perhaps WE can be more alive tomorrow. Perhaps WE can be more gracious tomorrow.

I wrestle with this dynamic all the time: waiting for God while appreciating what God’s doing now, and who God is now. It is a dialectical tension. It is paradoxical to be aware of both the full presence of God and the full promise of God.

I like this prayer:

“Dear God, I have no idea where I’m going. I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself… and the fact that I think that I am following your will
Does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe this:
I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
I hope I have that desire in everything I do.
I hope I never persist in anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road,
Though I may know nothing about it at the time.
Therefore I will trust you always, for thought I may be lost—and in the shadow of death—I will not be afraid, because I know you will never leave me to face my troubles all alone.” (Thomas Merton).

May this prayer carry you through the weekend!

There’s something about the Baal Shem Tov (1698- 1760), a Jewish mystic and rabbi who founded the Hasidic movement, that has been an inspiration, model and even a guide for me. Here was a man steeped in Torah and Bible, deeply knowledgeable and wise. Thousands flocked to hear him teach and to receive instruction from him. He was like no other in wisdom. I suppose that it could be said that he was profoundly deep.

On the other hand, he was a worshipper of God and a mystic. He had visions and dreams, give prophecies, do miracles, and even weep and dance and sing ecstatically in praise before God and his people. I suppose it could be said he was charismatic in his spiritual life.

These two elements mixed into one has always appealed to me, and that is something I strive for: depth and height. Why can’t we have the two blended into one community, just as they were blended in this one man? A valley needs a mountain to be a valley. In my experience, if you are “deep” theologically, then you are usually very serious, sober, even somber, and impatient with charismatic expressions. On the other hand, if you are ecstatic in worship, then it is usually assumed that you are shallow and superficial, theologically deficient, and have no patience with truth. Ain’t necessarily so! I long for this in my own life… theological depth and spiritual ecstasy and mysticism. At my church, Rothesay Vineyard, I try to encourage this. So what if we are accused of being “too deep”, or on the other hand, “too silly”? I welcome the valleys. I welcome the summits. Give me the full landscape! Iwant the total geography!