I haven’t finished the Hyphenateds, edited by DoC pastor/extraordinaire Phil Snider, but the first essay alone felt like the price of admission was dearly worth it. Nadia Bolz-Weber delivers a beautiful, moving case for the need for contextual, missional faith communities in our culture. But this quick section just felt like a little light bulb went off in my head, like finally she is putting words to what I often try to speak about our community, the Table.

The point is this: Both the idea for the icon and the idea for the Blessing of the Bicycles came from the freedom we have to try crazy stuff. This freedom is a result of being safely tethered to the big ship of the Lutheran Church while having lots of room to play. If we had to make sure that everything we undertook as a community would be understandable and inoffensive to folks from a traditional church, then we would never create things that speak to us and those in our own cultural setting.

She goes on to point out how these crazy ideas often bear fruit beyond their own faith community - they end up being useful to other people and in other communities.

(I remember hearing more than one minister speak about campus ministry in these terms - campus ministries can often do wild, crazy things that local churches cannot.)

The point is not that every church needs to try to be cutting edge and different, but we need to support and have communities within our tradition that can. If nothing else, let one group within your church have the freedom to experiment and “play” as they follow and serve God. Maybe that’s the youth. Maybe that’s a young adult group. Maybe it’s an artist group. And see what happens, see how your whole church’s life together becomes a little… saltier.

Thanks to Nadia for this piece!

This blog post is a great read.

Part of my faith story is growing up in Anadarko, OK, a town with 41% white people and 41% Native Americans. I loved my small town church - a bunch of good, wonderful people - but we never did a thing with our Native American neighbors. “They had their churches; we have our churches.” Granted that America’s legacy of racism, genocide, and colonization is difficult for anyone to deal with (especially a small town church), I longed for a faith that took Jesus’ words a bit more seriously to love your neighbor as yourself.

This article hits the nail on the head. When we reduce our faith to only a private, isolated piety/set of practices, we lose what makes our faith significant in the first place. The question I’ve heard asked before at congregational transformation events - if your church got up and left town one day, would anyone in your community know? Another recent book (Candlelight) I read says that the church should be a gift to your community. Our hands and feet can become gifts to our neighbors, no matter where we are.

God IS love. So, love people, okay?

I’m all over this video of some small group conversations at the 2nd day mission track at General Assembly 2011. Talking about DC! Plus, Spencer Burke (of the Ooze) is a fun guy.

I’ve linked up a sermon that I preached on January 2 at East Dallas Christian Church. I’ll direct link it from here to save you from hunting around for it. “What’s Your Calling?” - helpful to you if you are searching to answer that lifelong question - what can I do best that no one else can do?

Second, check out a few words I put together today as I reflected on this New Year, our calling, and the tragedy in Arizona over at the Table website.

It’s been a tough start to this year.

I got this short, sweet question in my messages from anonymous.

how long and when did you decide to become a minister

Here goes my answer:

It was never my intention to become a minister. I went to college to learn computer programming, with the idea to develop some killer applications to be the next Steve Jobs/Bill Gates or whatever. However, I discovered that I cared more for people as opposed to their computer challenges/issues. I was drawn to helping others pretty naturally.

Even then, when a mentor and others suggested the idea of ministry, I shot it down because I wasn’t sure if I believed in God. Plus, the life of a minister can be pretty tough. Was that what I really wanted to do? Along the way as I asked questions and wondered, I felt a sense of direction time and time again. You could almost say ministry chose me, as there are still times I wonder if I am really equipped or patient enough for this vocation.

I’ve been doing ministry for over ten years now in various capacities. The most recent two years I have been in a full time position at a church.

I’m open to all kinds of possibilities in the future though and still ask lots of question about faith, church, and world.