Discontinuity Culture

It occurs to me that one of the things we are trying to do at Jacob’s Well is something I’ve tried to bring into the established churches for the last dozen years. The “what if” concept has helped me see how the emerging church needs a ‘culture of discontinuity.’

discontinuous pencilA “what if…” church, filled with “what if…” Christ-followers has a culture of discontinuity rather than of continuity. They are rooted in where they have been, but they don’t take their foundation as an anchor. Rather it is a springboard to what God has next for them. They live out possibilities in the name of Christ. That means status quo, equilibrium, ‘the way we’ve always done it’ aren’t goals. Change is sought, not fought.

I developed a series of “Discontinuity Teasers” years ago that I’ve used with our staff at Bethlehem and many other staffs and groups of church leaders to help them see the possibilities of a culture of discontinuity, and how to develop that sort of thinking in their organization. I’ll post it in the “church transitions/resources” portion of our website (link below). Check it out and let me know if it is helpful, or how you would improve it. It is quite a few years old and wasn’t designed for an emerging church, but for an established church.

www.jacobs-well.net/discontinuityteasers

“What if…?”

September marks the first birthday of Jacob’s Well. Amazing. We are launching our second year with this simple question: “What if…?” What if there was a church…

I’ve been amazed at the interest those 2 words conjure up in people. They open people up instead of putting them in a box. They communicate to people that Jacob’s Well intends to be a church that is looking for what is possible, not what can’t be/shouldn’t be done. People are engaging the question and passing on their “What if’s” to us. We will never do them or be them all, but we can hear the possibilities, and seek the heart and soul behind them. I trust God to be working through these what if’s.

We will be very deliberate about collecting anyone’s “what if’s” in the upcoming weeks in a lot of different ways (see our sidewalk campaign below!) Post your “what if…” here, or send it on to me at ‘what-if@jacobs-well.net’

I’ll share what we hear in later posts.

Wow, just think, what if…

what-iffarwebsize.jpg

The priority of traditions

I’ve had a number of conversations with very passionate, concerned and intelligent people in the church recently about the role of tradition in congregations. Not the tired debate of guitars or organs (not that it is resolved), but of connecting to the historic rather than the contemporary, and the larger denominational identity rather than an isolated congregation. There aren’t clear cut answers. Books are written on the subtleties of the conversation, and our email and coffee shop chats have come close. What I really value is that all the people I’ve been talking with aren’t out witch hunting, but are seeking something that answers their needs as lifetime church-goers and/or professional clerical types, and the needs they realize are beyond the doors of their church buildings.

My sense isn’t that traditions or denominational identity are good or bad, beneficial or baggage, but it is a matter of how they are used and when these ‘cards’ are played. Two things are at work here.

One is that both the traditions of the church and the denominational institutions that have carried the truth have been allowed to wander off onto thin ice. Both are perceived (rightly or wrongly) as, at least, somewhat irrelevant and with some suspicion by a majority of Americans. Bridges of interest and trust need to be built before the people we want to re-engage with the church will give the church a chance.

The other is in a cultural change in how people experience authenticity. We are so barraged by messages and claims we have been trained not to believe everything we see and hear. Younger generations have experienced failed leadership at so many levels (political, church, corporate, parental) that they care little about what people say, they want to know what we do. The cliche is “the walk, not the talk.” or praxis vs dogma. Regardless, the outcome is that authenticity is established differently than it was for previous generations. Our institutional connections don’t reassure our disenfranchised public that we are authentic. Reading a prayer or a participating in a written liturgy that is printed in a book or a program don’t either, in fact it is more likely to be perceived as inauthentic because it comes from a book, not the heart. Rather than such works ringing bells of deep, historic connections, they ring warning bells of hypocrisy.

My point: Our traditions and institutional identities are good and valuable, but they are not the message, and in fact get in the way of the message for many people today. To put them on the back burner in order to establish relevant and authentic connections with people who have given up on the church is not selling out, or dumbing down, it is putting putting first things first. I ask myself, “am I trying to make Lutherans or followers of Jesus?” And the answer is always that they are both good things, but there is no doubt as to which comes first.

Friday morning sabbath

Fridays are the closest thing I have to a Saturday. Being a pastor means that weekends are work time. But when things are relatively caught up (and ‘relatively’ is the operative term because there is always more that ‘could be done,’ if not ‘should be done’) Fridays can be a little slower. I spent the morning out on the back porch, enjoying the birds, the air and a couple of homemade Americanos with my wife, Kris, talking about impending school stuff,  reading the paper, and pulling together loose ends of our service on Sunday at Jacob’s Well. Basically, mulling over and making sense of the different parts of my world, and doing it at the speed of life.

I’ve been getting a lot of input recently from many and various sources to make sure I have a sabbath (day of rest) each week. My question is “Why not two? Isn’t that what a weekend is?” But for now, one will have to do; I’m not very good at even taking that. A weekly sabbath isn’t just a nice idea, it’s essential. One of the deadliest enemies of a pastor is pumping out of the well when you aren’t putting anything in.  I can’t imagine it is different for anyone.

So today there are a few tasks to take care of, but I spent the morning watching the dew shine on the grass, watching chickadees, cardinals, goldfinch and grosbeaks working over our feeders, sparrows washing in the bath, squirrels making the leap from the birch to the silver maple. I’ve still got the State Fair to go to this evening, a run around Lake Nokomis and some time with my family ahead. I think I’ll be ready for what’s next.

The point isn’t what I do on my sabbath, or even how long it is exactly, but what I don’t do and how open what I’m not doing allows me to become.  To stop, or even pause, is a first step to unlearning.  It permits different questions, priorities, perspectives to arise.  It walks around the inside of the box I live in most of my week and kicks at the walls, almost always opening windows in some of them.  I suppose it is pretty hard to not live in a box of some sort as long as there are windows to see out of.

Puts a whole new spin on “Honor the Sabbath, and keep it holy.”     Exodus 20.8

If it were only straight ahead, it wouldn’t be so precarious…

A number of years ago I heard Jim Collins (Good to Great & Built to Last, both get strong recommendations from me) speak at a conference in Colorado. I wrote down this quote that has plagued (and blessed) my life and ministry ever since, “Are you willing to let go of a hard fought expertise, lose the competence you’ve invested years in, in order to master a new expertise and competence that can take you to a new level?”

It’s all about ‘unlearning,’ recognizing that what you know and have is not always the way to the next step, but sometimes the roadblock to it. This is tough for me, but so intriguing and so inviting. My problem is that I don’t like to look stupid (translation: incompetent). At some visceral level I’d rather keep doing what I know how to do and improve it, and maybe kid myself that I can simultaneously learn the new thing and gradually let it replace the old one. That isn’t impossible, but the facts are that I’m too busy (not proud of that) to keep up the old and master the new, and my ties to what I already know undermines my investment in the new.  It’s like learning to use your left hand when your right hand is still perfectly able to do everything.

God is in favor of new things. God lets old things die; sheds a tear, but lets them go. Creation implies brand new, not gradually evolving from the old. Resurrection isn’t reworking, it is death and a brand new life.

Another of my life verses:The Lord says, “Do not cling to events of the past or dwell on what happened long ago.Watch for the new thing I am going to do. It is happening already—you can see it now!” Isaiah 43.18-19a TEV

As the pastor of Jacob’s Well (www.jacobs-well.net) unlearning is more important than learning for me right now because I’m getting plenty of new ideas, hopes and inspirations.  The obstacle is clearing room in my head and heart to allow those great things to take root and grow.

I’ll chase down some of the areas I’m trying to unlearn in postings to come. I’d love to hear what others are willing to unlearn, and what it is that is so attractive, so promising, so wonderful that they are willing to go down that risky path. It must be a treasure of great worth!

Why ‘precarious’?

Why ‘precarious’? Well, I’m a sailor. I don’t get to sail too often, but it is a passion for me and the main way I get to sail is by taking groups out. I took what I love to do most and made a ministry out of it at the church I served. If you’ve ever wandered through a marina you have noticed the wide range of names of boats, each reflecting something about the owner. With that in mind we ask everyone on our trips, “If you were a sailboat on the journey that is your life, what would the name of that boat be?” For me the name was obvious, my boat is The Precarious.

To be precarious is to be on the edge of what is safe, risk-free, known. I know all my life isn’t lived on the margins, but my calling is to go there and explore them, to discover what God is up to out there where many are unwilling to go.

One of the fun things about being precarious is that it isn’t only full of possibility, but it wakes people up. People step aboard with a little (or a lot) of fear and trepidation. By joining the journey they’ve made a few important decisions; they will trust me on the journey of discovery, and they aren’t expecting status quo.

I’m also a pastor. It isn’t just an occupation. It is who I am – my wife and kids are painfully aware of this, I think. This blog is intended to be the truth of my precarious journey as a pastor. This isn’t the path of making sure everything works out, so my posts will contain as many “won’t do that again’s” as it will “wow, that worked great’s.” What being precarious does is open me up to God’s promise which is the verse I cling to more than any other…

The power of God at work within us can accomplish abundantly far more than we can ever ask or imagine. Ephesians 3.20 (my version)

Thanks for reading.