Category Archives: Community

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I Bring Myself

Today Jesus met me in a way I haven’t had in a long time. Today I sat at His feet and wept and worshiped. Today I had needs met in me so deep and so long unmet I’d forgotten what it was like to have them satisfied. Today I felt known; more over, I felt people wanted to know me. Today I found a place that values all that I value; that holds dear what I hold dear; a place where conviction meets real life and both walk hand-in-hand. A place that is as close to Mosaic as I think a place can get without being it, and yet is different.

Now that its over, fear is threatening to take over my heart. Fear that the whole thing was just a marvelous dream, or at best a one-time thing that won’t be repeated; fear that what I found is just too rare to be mine. Is that not the most insane thing you ever heard? But there it is. The reality in my heart. I’m so afraid I will come back empty-handed next time.

Two months ago I wrote about my dilemma. I’d been struggling for months with not having community at the church I was serving. I had prayed, reached out, gone to events and small groups, even had one in my home, but I could not seem to really connect with anyone. It was as if I was a foreigner to them, and they to me. We were interesting to each other but ultimately we spoke different languages, and I felt Lost in Translation. They want comfort, stability, safety, sameness, perhaps even God-in-a-box. I don’t. Here’s what I wrote; Here’s what I want.

I want to be known more than I fear it. I want
community more than I fear intimacy. I want to be challenged more than
I want to be "fed". I want to follow Jesus no matter the cost more than
I fear where He might take me. And I want a community of people to
journey with in life here in Nashville that shares my passion for Jesus
and my longings for community and challenge. I want that more than I want to shuffle
alongside people who still think Church is a fortress from the "world",
rather than the shelter and refuge FOR the world’s most broken, twisted
and shattered that it is and was always meant to be. I want a community
who desires to pursue Jesus with full-out passion. I want it so bad it
hurts. I haven’t had it since I left LA.

Today I think I found that place. Not only that, but I joined that place; for the first time since leaving LA I became a member of a church.

I didn’t mean to. I didn’t intend to. I intended to go to this event ("class") and just find out about this community, investigate it. I was going to keep my options open this time, and guard my heart well, in case they weren’t what my friend who’d told me about them said they were.  What have I done?

But people at the event were so friendly, so open, so willing to be known, and to know others. Conversation was easy, and for the first time in over two years I felt I belonged, really belonged. Like I wasn’t a foreigner speaking a strange language, or a stranger trying to force my way in. It felt very good.

Anyone who knows me knows I love people, but that they also exhaust me. I’m such an introvert! Crowds, big or small, scare me and I have to take a deep breath before I plunge in. Yet I felt no fear with this group. I felt no… discomfort at all. And the time went by far too fast. I wasn’t at all ready for it to be over when it was.

God spoke to me as I stared at the community’s commitment/covenant at the end of our time. He spoke of putting down roots and how I’ve been avoiding it since the church-plant fell apart. I invested so much of myself, invested my whole heart and soul in that group. To have it disintegrate before my eyes broke not just my heart, but my spirit, I think.  It’s like losing a baby that never got to be birthed.

But here He was, Jesus, talking to me softly about putting down roots, reminding me that it is a rare thing, and this was the first place I’d found it in Nashville. He was soft, but insistent, yet never demanding. So, I took a deep breath, signed the covenant and nervously handed it to someone on staff.

What have I done?

This morning was my last morning on the sound team at the other church, and it was filled with sweet fellowship with the team leader and with my ministry partner/producer. It was as if they were dangling carrots to keep me there and involved. It nearly worked; part of me really wondered if I really ought to be leaving and whether a year was long enough a chance to give a community.

But then I walked into the other community– my new community now — and Jesus sat down beside me. Wrapping up the sound in the chapel after 1st service of my old church had caused me to miss the worship at my new home. When I came in the pastor was already into his sermon. I sat down on some steps nearby, the nearest "seat" I could find, and Jesus made His presence immediately known.

I have this "language" with Him that I cannot explain, it just is. Its a visual language; one where He shows me things–shows me Himself–in my mind, or what I call my "mind’s eye". I get flashes of images, Him sitting somewhere or standing or in some position, always near or next to me. Sometimes we dance, sometimes He holds me, sometimes He’s drenching me like a rainstorm, sometimes He’s at my feet. No, often He’s at my feet. At first I fought that idea; that’s not where He belongs, He belongs above me and I at His feet. But He’s been insistent that His position is at my feet. He came to serve me, came to love me. He adores me. And He kneels in front of me, and stares intently into my eyes, my face, because He wants me to know Him, not just as "Lord" or "Almighty God" but as Lover and Counselor and Servant-Leader and Friend.

I realize some will call me a heretic for this. I cannot help that. This is who God reveals Himself to be, to me. And I know, to the core of my being, that it is Truth. He has proved it over and over. Its a position I don’t fully understand, I just know that it is. And I live by it.  Since He calls me to follow Him — His position toward me says to me that my position is kneeling at the feet of others, serving them, looking intently into their faces, letting them know me as friend, counselor, servant.

So often I’ve longed to kneel at His feet. So often I have, only to have Him get down on the floor beside me, so He can look intently into my face, and I into His. I try to tell Him this defeats my purpose in being on my face, only to have Him retort that His purposes are higher than mine, and His purposes are the ones that will last. There’s no point fighting with God. He decides He’s going to do something a certain way, that’s what will happen, regardless of what I try — and believe me I have tried it all.

Today Jesus let me sit at His feet. I don’t know why. But today, as the Pastor brought us into a time of quietness before God and the worship team led us to the throne, Jesus let me place myself at His feet. And instead of getting down on the floor with me, eye-to-eye, He stood tall, His hands on my head, as if to say to anyone, everyone in the universe, "this one is Mine. This one I love. This one I am–" dare I say it?? –"I am proud to call My own."

I clung to His feet, knowing beyond doubt how blessed I am to be known by Him, how unworthy I am to be loved by Him, and how grateful I am to belong to Him. I did not want to get up from that place, did not want to leave that position. It became holy, sacred ground in that moment, though the rest of the world would see them only as stairs at a movie theater.

The pastor had asked earlier, what do we bring to God this Christmas season? We spend so much time and energy telling people what we want for Christmas, making our lists for our parents, friends, family — perhaps even for God — of what we want this Christmas. But what do we bring to Him? He is, after all, the one who came; the one who’s birth we celebrate. Sadly, for all my talk of mission and passion, I had not really thought about that question, until the pastor asked it. Sadder still, I didn’t have an answer.

So, today I brought myself. Today I brought all of me to His throne, to His feet, for whatever I am worth and whatever He can do with me, and I worshiped. And I wept. While He stood tall and proclaimed me His own, His beloved.

And when He later whispered that I had too long resisted putting down roots, I brought myself to Him again. Perhaps what I have done is to bring myself to the community He has brought to me. Is it real? Will it last? I don’t know. But perhaps its time to step into the fear, instead of running from it, and find out.

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Shout Out

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I love it when I see my friends names in the credits of tv shows and movies! Give a big shout out to my old friend Natalie Chaidez! Woohoo!

I’m watching "Heroes" right now, which I swore I wouldn’t get hooked on, but my sister and my own TiVo conspired against me and got me hooked anyway… so now I’m watching with the rest of America to find out what "save the cheerleader, save the world" means and who’s name pops up as co-executive producer but Natalie’s. Woohoo! She worked on several seasons of Judging Amy (another show I loved) and on Cracker, as well as soooo many other shows. I used to run sound with her husband, Mike, at Mosaic LA. And Natalie and I had several writer-producer acquaintances/friends in common when we met — the way it often is in Hollywood.

Anyway, I’ve lost touch with the Chaidez fam since moving to Nashville, but its always soooo good to see her name pop up in the credits. Go Natalie!

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Heart of the Matter

There is a stage in the grief process when anger finally pushes to the surface and fills the soul for a time with hot coals of raw emotion, of rage. Sometimes that rage doesn’t make a bit of sense. Sometimes it shoots blindly at whomever or whatever is closest. But sometimes it is laser-focused on a particular thing, or person.

I got the call today, I didn’t wanna hear
But I knew that it would come
An old true friend of ours was talkin’ on the phone
She said you found someone
And I thought of all the bad luck,
And all the struggles we went through
How I lost me and you lost you
What are these voices outside love’s open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?

We don’t just grieve when someone dies. We grieve when dreams die, when relationships don’t work out, when jobs aren’t what we thought they would be, when careers are not what the college recruiter promised.

We also grieve as we grow in our discovery of ourselves.

I’ve been learning to live without you now
But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, I’m learning them again
I’ve been tryin’ to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it’s about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don’t love me anymore

When you discover that much of the view of you, of yourself, that you built your life around is actually a lie from the enemy of your soul; when you finally connect the dots of your life and see how the arrows of childhood hurts have shaped your behavior, your willingness to be treated in unkind, abusive ways and your choices in relationships; how those lies fed an insecurity that kept you clinging to whatever measure of power or control, or both, you could grasp, there is a firestorm that sweeps over you, an anger that must find a release.

You can try to stem the tide. You can try to stuff the emotion. You can try. But whatever ever method you choose, it will ultimately fail. Like the little boy with his finger in the dike, it is too little, too late. The dam is broken and its just a matter of time before the anger spills forth and floods every valley of your life.

These times are so uncertain
There’s a yearning undefined
And people filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness
How can love survive in such a graceless age
And the trust and self-assurance that lead to happiness
They’re the very things we kill, I guess
Pride and competition cannot fill these empty arms
And the work they put between us,
You know it doesn’t keep us warm 

There is a slow burning fire growing within me. Embers of anger fanning into raging flames as I begin to realize the lies I believed and the person I allowed those lies to shape me into. I feel it rising inside me, filling up all my insides and spilling over my spirit and into the world. It comes out in inappropriate ways — cussing out the drivers in front of me who drive too slowly, muttering curses at my computer and my office’s Internet slowness when neither move as fast as I declare they should. I know there are better ways, more productive ways to release this anger, but I have yet to have success in using them.

In truth, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the fire inside. I haven’t touched the fullness of it yet, but I know it burns hot. And it will rage out of control soon.

Yet even in the midst of all this discovery and fire, there is a Truth that shines brightly even in the daylight. Truth that brings release, like buckets of cool rain. I am free.

I’ve been tryin’ to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my heart is so shattered
But I think it’s about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don’t love me anymore 

The chains of desperate need for power, for control, they no longer hold me captive. The need to make sure everyone believes as I do, that everyone follows the rules I deem most important, don’t exist anymore. I look at my life and I can see the legalism I lived under. I can see the legalism I enforced upon others. And I see if for the legalism it is, not the “concern” or “passion” I once believed it was.

When hurts come, when the arrows of Life pierce our hearts, our automatic reaction is to close ranks and protect ourselves. Legalism is the best protector of all. It creates a nearly impenetrable wall that none can scale. It sets the bar so high than no one can ever measure up. And if no one can measure up, no one can hurt us with unmet expectations or unexpected rejection. It gives an illusion of power and control over the undefeatable and uncontrollable.

All the people in your life who’ve come and gone
They let you down, you know they hurt your pride
Better put it all behind you; cause life goes on
You keep carrin’ that anger, it’ll eat you up inside

There are so many in the world right now who long to keep me trapped in legalism, especially in their own particular brand of legalism. They say I cannot do certain things, because I am a woman. They say that I cannot practice certain things, because they do not interpret the Bible that way, and they know these things better than I, they say. They say I cannot believe certain things, because God showed them my beliefs are in error.

For a moment I raged. Fire burned inside my spirit and smoke poured from my heart.

And then the chains fell to the floor. I saw the legalism for what it really was, a defense, to keep out the Grace of God.

I wanna be happily everafter
And my heart is so shattered
But I know it’s about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don’t love me anymore 

Grace says it matters not who’s right. Grace says I don’t need to be in control. Grace says it doesn’t matter who appears to have the power. Grace says I am forgiven. Grace says I am redeemed. Grace says that God has the power; God has the control. Grace says God defines me; and God defines my ministry.

Grace even says that God is patient; agonizingly patient. He allows the power hungry, the control obsessed, the legalistic, the pharisees of our day to continue down our self-made paths of destruction because He loves us. He loves us enough to give us as much time as we need to, well, to get a clue that we’re in over our heads. He is slow to anger, and quick to forgive because He loves even the power-hungry souls, so much so He does not want them to suffer punishment at His hand.

I’ve been tryin’ to get down to the Heart of the Matter
Because the flesh will get weak
And the ashes will scatter
So I’m thinkin’ about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if you don’t love me anymore

Grace says I’m forgiven. When I accept God’s Grace, His forgiveness of my own desperate game of power and control washes over me and my chains of legalism fall powerless to the floor. Grace stands in opposition to the legalism I see all around. And Grace calls me, longs for me, begs me, to forgive. Forgive, as I have been forgiven. Others can try with all their might to bind me in their chains, but they will fail. For I am free. Grace has freed me. Freed me to give Grace. And I pray Grace will one day set them free.

There is much power in forgiveness. It is the power of Life.

“Heart of the Matter” by Don Henley, performed by India.Arie
Download it now from iTunes

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Disciple Generation

Marty Duren brought an intriguing article, and book, to my attention in his post today.

The book, "Righteous: Dispatches from the Evangelical Youth Movement" is written by Lauren Sandler, a self-proclaimed Jewish athiest, who immersed herself in in the Evangelical Youth Movement as a journalist in order to better understand and report on this new "grassroots movement" as she calls it.

The Washington Post.com recently published an on-line chat with Lauren regarding her book, research and her subsequent opinions on the latest movement in Christianity. Marty brought all this to our attention in his latest post and I got so caught up in what I read that I wanted to post my many thoughts here, rather than co-opt Marty’s blog in the comment section. 🙂

Go read the article, if you haven’t already, then come back and let me tell you what I think — because  its all about me, you know. 🙂 And then afterward, tell you what you think.

I think its an amazing testament to the youth/young adults in this movement that she calls it the "Disciple Generation". I think it shows that they (we?) are finally getting it. That we are called to be disciples of Jesus and to make disciples of everyone in our lives. That’s disciples, not converts. Did you hear me on that?

As I said in my comment on Marty’s blog:

[We have a] “conversion” culture in the Church.

I know that for as long as I can remember (I grew up in church, my dad was a SBC chaplain in the Army and later a minister in SBC churches), I was taught that I would be known by my “fruit” and that fruit was who I brought with me into heaven. In other words, how effective I was as a Christian in my world would be reflected by how many people I converted in my life.

I now believe that is a lie straight from hell — but spoken and perpetuated by well-meaning but misguided Christians. Satan wants to keep us “frustrated” with those God placed in our lives to LOVE and disciple because they aren’t “converting”, he wants us to be so frustrated because they aren’t becoming followers of Jesus. Why? Because as long as we see their conversion as tied to our effectiveness as Christians, we will be more focused on ourselves (and our perceived maturity/effectiveness in Christ) than on THEM. We will not really love them, just love them; just for the joy of loving another human being. But rather, we will see them as a means to proving our own "Christian-ness". —Does that make sense?

[As] Amy and others have said, God didn’t call us to “convert” the world. Jesus never said we’d be known by how many people joined our church. He said we’d be known by our LOVE.

I think we’ve gotten far too wrapped up in “bringing people to Jesus” and have forgotten that our mandate from Jesus was actually to bring Him to the people. (”Go…” not ‘bring them to me’ “…and make disciples…” not converts).

I think that’s what Lauren Sandler experienced in her time immersed in the Disciple Generation. She says in this chat, “I found it remarkable — though perhaps I shouldn’t have, since it is the duty of every Evangelical to spread the faith — that almost every single person I approached opened their hearts, their lives, and often their homes, to me with incredible generosity.”

What she experienced was God’s love, poured out through Jesus’ followers. That she came out of it without committing her life to Jesus and becoming His follower says much more about her heart than it does about the people she met. Jesus’ parable about the seed/soil says nothing about the seed and everything about the soil. Our job is to sow the seeds of love and the gospel everywhere we go. No where does Jesus say we are responsible for any soil other than our own.

What Lauren describes as her experience while immersed in this movement is what being a disciple and making disciples looks like. Making disciples isn’t the same as making converts. The former is all about influence. The latter is all about power.

To me, her label of this movement shows that, for the most part, these young ones understand so much better than we did that it isn’t about power and control, but about influence and servanthood.

And I have to say this was also my assessment when I attended ILC (International Learning Center of the International Mission Board) back in 2002. It was the Journeyman/women and ISCers in their early to mid-20s who were grabbing up the Frontier assignments with people groups in the farthest reaches of the world faster than the IMB could create them. These were young men and women who were so passionately in love with Jesus that it was worth all the sacrifice and hard, hard work it takes to spread the Gospel to the ends of the earth, and they weren’t afraid to risk everything in order that even one person might get the chance to meet Jesus themselves, to experience God’s love and become a follower of Jesus. I am so impressed with this generation!

However, there are some things that concern me. Things I see in the Church which cause me growing concern, especially since it seems we are passing it along to the next generation.

I worked for a brief time with an arm of the SBC which is focused on furthering SBC interests in the political realm. I hated it. I hated the idea of mixing politics and "religion". I hated the idea of SBC money going to political causes. Part of the reason is because I know there are Southern Baptists out there who do not support the agenda pushed by this arm of their denomination. That, to me, is just as heinous as using union funds to support political agendas of an elite few in control. It disregards the will of the whole, for the desires of a few. You just don’t do that with an organization. Its the union members hard-earned dollars that should only be spent on things the majority feels is the best use of their money.

The same applies to the SBC, in my opinion. We have no business in the world of politics. We need to stay out of it as a denomination and let individuals focus on the issues most important to them as individuals. This is a problem I have with religion in politics in general.

In specific, however, I understand that we all bring our values and convictions into the voting booth and into our own campaigning, be it in the public arena or in the private campaigning we do in our conversations and debates with friends, co-workers and brothers and sisters in Christ. I have no problem with a person who is a Christian forming a lobby group of some kind to push for/against an issue that is of utmost importance to them.

But I have a huge problem with organizations that label themselves Christian and call their stance the "Christian" stance. It sets up the unavoidable impression (sometimes blatantly stated) that any other stance is decidedly UN-Christian.

That’s wrong.  Even when it comes to — hang on to your hats and glasses! — abortion, gay marriage and evolution vs. creationism taught in public schools. Who are we to tell other brothers and sisters in Christ how to vote, who to vote for, what to vote for and what to believe??? Who are we to judge them UNChristian when they don’t agree with us?? Nuh-uh, no. That’s wrong. We have no right to do so.

Lauren says in her on-line chat:

"In my reporting, I found that most people I spoke to would like to replace public schools with Christian schools, our government with a Christian government–the entire secular culture with a Christian culture. Not to seem overly alarmist here — though I think it’s important to sound an alarm these days — I did not write that sentence [of Christian conservatives as an army that ‘aims to destroy everything that it is not’] as a metaphor. I meant it literally. If I had met people who are content to live as Christians in a secular culture, without needing to change and shape institutions and individuals, I would not see it this way. But, simply, that’s what I found."

And earlier on she says,

There is almost no awareness amongst this group — which I call the Disciple Generation — that Evangelical liberals exist.

She also said,

"The politics of this Christain movement are of a very different stripe, and distinctly aligned–against gay marriage, abortion, and evolution in public schools. As long as a candidate is unflappable on those few issues, many people I’ve met have told me they need to look no further into a platform or voting record. They would tell you their politics and religion are one and the same–that there is no politics and there is no religion, there’s only faith."

Again, I am convinced that our faith, our relationship with Jesus, informs our politics. But I do not see the two "as one and the same." This, to me, is a symptom of the confusion the "religious right" and the Jerry Falwells of our time have created in the church. To not even be aware that someone could be Christian, be a follower of Christ and a liberal, says to me that there is a huge disconnect somewhere; and it says that we must all fit a cookie-cutter definition of Christianity or find ourselves discarded and marginalized by our own brothers and sisters in Christ. It all makes me sick to my soul. It is not at all how I see Jesus living His life. He was not concerned with the politics of His day; He was completely wrapped up in the people.

Don’t get me wrong. I do believe that God desires us to take a stand against the things in society which we find immoral and repugnant. Slavery, for example. Thank God for those who had the courage and tenacity to stand up in the public arena against it.

Yet do you also remember how many used the Bible and Jesus as their defense OF slavery?

This is the problem with using Jesus as a political weapon, rather than a social healing balm. And this is what I see in our culture of "conservative Christianity" today.  Jesus has become a political weapon rather than the Redeeming Grace of the soul.

I understand the zeal to have a "Christian government" "Christian schools" and a "Christian culture", in that we desire to bring righteousness into every aspect of our lives, especially those areas that we deem most important, like education and our nation’s governing bodies. However, I must agree with Lauren Sandler that the drive to replace the current systems with Christianized ones is very alarming. Because it is misdirected zeal. This was never Jesus’ mandate to His Church. Jesus never told us to go out and Christianize our world. Does that mean we are not to have an impact, or make a difference in our world? May it never be!

However, it needs to be said, and said and said again, that making an impact on our world and "Christianizing" it are two vastly different things. And I think we bring great harm to the Church and to Jesus’ name when we fight to do the latter rather than the former.

I think that this can be seen in how Jesus is now viewed by unbelievers, as well as the general reputation Christianity now has in America. And perhaps even throughout the world because of America (though not all of that is the fault of the American church).  So often we Christians are viewed by our society as "idiots," as one questioner/commenter on the chat from Eastern Market Washington, DC called us, or as those "crazy Christians" (to borrow a sketch title from "Studio 60…"). Could it possibly be because we take positions, politically, that tell the world we would rather force our religion on them than meet them where they’re at, accept them and love them for who they are right now? Is that really who Jesus is? Is that really what we want them to believe following Jesus is truly about, forcing our beliefs on an unbelieving world?

Why are we so hell-bent (if you’ll forgive the metaphor) on denying nonbelievers the rights that legal marriage would bring — things like spousal health care coverage, next of kin notices, etc? Come on, do we really believe that this will eliminate homosexuality in America? Do we really think that by declaring marriage to be only between a man and a woman that we will eliminate same-sex unions, and perhaps bring all who struggle with homosexuality to Jesus? Come on, let’s be real. It does nothing more than create another wall, another barrier for the Gospel; another barrier that keeps the Gospel from being heard by a significant group of people.

Forcing nonbelievers to live like they were believers may seem "morally righteous" but, in truth, it’s cruel. They have neither the understanding nor the power of the Holy Spirit with which to overcome the enemy and live in freedom under the standards God sets for us, His followers. God never forces nonbelievers to live by the same standards as His people. Rather, He calls His people to live by standards that would cause the world around them to stand up and take notice, in order that HE might have the glory and honor when His people are able to point to Him as the source of the ability to live by such freedom, grace, hope and love.

I am convinced that we can still lovingly address the reality that homosexuality is a sin while at the same time not barring homosexual marriage in our society. No, its not perfect. No, same-sex marriage is not God’s best. But how in the world can we expect the world to live as God commands us to live when we cannot even live that way without the power of Jesus?? When are we going to wake up and realize America is not a nation of Christ-followers. We are not a Christian nation. We are Christianized; and with a brand of Christianity that is more cultural than Biblical.

My heart breaks that we are passing along our syncretized Christianity to our youth. They have such an opportunity to break free of our chains and run free in the path of God’s commands (Palm 119:32) rather than sludge through our cultural Christianity.

In all other ways, this generation has everything going for it; as Lauren says, "many of the members of this Disciple Generation I met are extremely
articulate, thoughtful, creative — they are quite astute, I believe in
many of their criticisms of the secular world as empty, consumerist,
and purposeless." I would say a loud, "that’s right!" to her declaration.

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Dilemma – What Do I Do?

I finished up wrapping the sound equipment for the Chapel service this morning and wandered with my co-techie to the tech room to chat with the other media servants. We joked about how Pastor Rick always pronounces issues "ishuhs," which as far as anyone can tell is a personal quirk not a Southern-ism. As we joked about my own personal "language barrier" with Southern-speak — I cannot
understand some words to save my life! — I got to thinking about Erwin’s
love of mispronunciation and creating new words and we all laughed at
how every person has their own "ishuhs" with the English language.
Thinking about Erwin, however, gave me a craving to hear one of the
Mosaic podcasts.

We had enough camera operators for second service and I didn’t feel like clumping upstairs to watch one of the guys run the board for our webcast recording. Nor did I see any of the people from the singles group I sometimes sit with during second service, so I decided to head home. Rick’s sermon, while nice, was, for me, like eating baby food. So, as usual, it wasn’t something I desired to sit through a second time. It was on how to "witness", as they say in the Bible belt, by just telling your story; what is the before and after of your life with and without Jesus. It was like being a college student sitting in Kindergarten and being taught how to make big, two-line letters all over again. Valuable to five year-olds but boring to the college student.

I didn’t realize how boring until I got in the car and decided to listen in Erwin’s most recent podcast on my iPod on the way home.

Man, do I miss sitting under him and hearing him speak each Sunday morning! I really, really miss it. I would often go to all three services (serve in two — well, when two were at the same venue — and just attend one) just so I could hear it again and wring all the God-stuff out of it I could.  I was acutely aware all the way home this morning of how much I missed hearing him every Sunday. I drove much slower than normal and sat in the driveway for a while just so I could continue listening without interruption. I just soaked it all in, drank it in really — like I’d just spent days in the hot desert without any water. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.

I love the people I serve with at TPC. I really do. They are great people, fun to be with, hard working, God-honoring, loving, compassionate die-hard servants and followers of Jesus. And I like our pastor. Rick seems to be a good man, a godly man. And my heart resonates with his vision to lead TPC to be a place where people are truly consumed with the passion and mission of Jesus, rather than just attending church each week because "that’s what we here in the South do on Sunday mornings." He longs to create community — much like community that Mosaic experiences every week.

But the thing is, I generally get nothing out of the service. Just as I didn’t get anything out of Rick’s sermon today, I generally leave church not having gotten anything new or feeling as if God has touched me or talked to me through Rick at all. In other words, I leave hungry. It’s not that Rick’s teaching is bad or that he doesn’t use Scripture. I just don’t get anything out of it. I don’t walk away with any nugget of truth on which to chew during the week; something, anything that sparks my imagination and draws me to investigate on my own further during the week.

I realize that Rick has to approach his teaching this way right now. Most people I’ve met in our church, and, really, in the Nashville area in general, really don’t get the concept of church as a true community of followers of Jesus. People who are truly passionate about following Him no matter where He leads, people who have a true, growing, deepening intimate relationship with Him.

Oh, they know the words. "Personal Lord", "personal relationship" yada-yada-yada… But they’ve never actually experienced a deep connection with God, an on-going conversation with Him. Heck, I think if most of the people around here actually heard God’s speak to them they’d think they were going insane. They’d probably wig out completely and start begging for meds. Most don’t really believe that God talks to them in the same way we talk with our friends. That He longs to talk with us, to have us include Him in our conversations and, yeah, in our prayers. To them, prayer is one way — even though they, again, know the lingo that "prayer is a two-way street". Most think the only way God speaks to His Church today is through the Bible. Period.

Most also don’t see evangelism and discipleship as synonymous and a way of life. Evangelism is that thing you do at Monday night visitation. And that thing other people are gifted and called to do. People like Billy and Franklin Graham. And discipleship is that Paul-Timothy thing that they always want to participate in as long as they get to be the "Timothy" and don’t have to be the "Paul". God forbid they should step into a "leadership" role!

Most don’t realize that Jesus didn’t say, "go and pass out tracts to the poor in East Nashville or at the local video store." Or "go and convert your co-workers during a one-time lunch when they are hurting and really just needing a shoulder to cry on." And none realize that he didn’t say, "go and evangelize if you’ve been given the gift to do so, otherwise leave it to someone else — better yet, the pastor — to do that kind of thing on Monday night visitation."

No, they don’t realize what Jesus actually said was, "go and make disciples…." It’s called the Great Commandment because it’s not a suggestion. Nor is it a call to a select few to "evangelize". It’s a command to all of us to make disciples of every person in our lives.

The thing is, we do it naturally. We are either a disciple of or discipling every person in our lives. Which one depends on us and whom we are influenced by and whom we influence. — Those we are influenced by are discipling us , our "Pauls" to use church language. Those we influence are our disciples. — Few people recognize that we are always both leading and following. And fewer still take responsibility for the outcome in the end.

And then there’s the "ishuh" of real community. Community that comes out of bonding, out of a shared unity in the servanthood of Christ and in the baring of our souls to each other. The kind of community that can only be forged in a small group. Not a Sunday school class or a Wednesday night Bible study. But a small, group of 10 or less meeting each and every week, who are committed to being real even when it’s embarrassing or painful. That kind of transparency is very risky. And it’s a risk most church-going Bible belt Southerners aren’t willing to take.

I think this is because church is the mask they wear to convince themselves and the world around them that, really, they’re just fine. They’re okay. Its you that’s messed up. To open up in a small group, to be transparent to eight other people, would mean taking off the church-mask and admitting that their world isn’t the perfect world the Church has told them, from the time they were crawling around the church nursery, that it would be, that it "should" be, if they are really "living in God’s will."

‘Cause really, think about it a minute. Isn’t that the message the church has sold us on since we were in diapers? That if we will just "trust and obey" God, He will take away all our suffering, all our hardship, all our pain, all our misfortune, all our struggles, all our bad feelings, all our bad thoughts, all our temptations, and we will never have these things again. As long as we fully submit ourselves to God, He will take care of us and give us joy and peace and happiness and health and wealth and all "the desires of our heart." And when all our pain and hardship and misfortune and suffering and struggles and bad feelings and bad thoughts and temptations don’t disappear, we become convinced its because we aren’t submitted or surrendered enough, we aren’t trusting enough, we aren’t obeying enough. It’s our fault that we don’t have joy and happiness and health and wealth and all the desires of our heart.

For if it isn’t our fault, then it must be God’s — and we cannot bear to think that God hasn’t shown up. Because if God doesn’t show up, then we’ve wasted our whole lives worshiping and serving and striving to please a worthless God; a God who doesn’t even care about us enough to show up when we submit and surrender and trust and obey. No, it must be our fault. So we strive harder, we surrender more, we try to convince ourselves to trust more and we obey every law we can find. And when we can’t find any more laws to obey, we make new ones up. Only to have our own failure bite us in the butt yet again. Its no wonder people here don’t want to have true community. Who would want to take of their mask and risk exposure as an utter failure in this "perfect" Christian life to your fellow church-goers?? Especially when it seems as simple as "just trust and obey."

So Rick needs to be teaching what he is teaching. And he needs to be approaching it the way he is. Because the majority of our church wouldn’t get it otherwise — and probably doesn’t get it even yet. He and the Holy Spirit have years, lifetimes, of ingrained bad teaching, lies and deceptions from the enemy of our souls, and fear of exposure as failures to undo. And it could take the rest of Rick’s lifetime to undo it.

I get that. I understand it. But at the risk of sounding incredibly selfish and self-centered….

What about me?

Where do I fit in with all of this? I’ve been at this church over a year and still have yet to form any significant relationships. Oh, I’ve got a couple of relationships with potential to go deep, I think. But the opportunities to do so have been very slim, and mostly one-sided in the attempts (as in mine). Again, I’m faced with that wall of fear that others have of being known. I know what that fear is like. I went through it myself. I used to be like the people I see here. I used to be them. But that was, gosh, over 14 years ago now. And while I know their struggle and I struggle with my own fears of being known, and I empathize with their dilemma, I have one of my own. One that is growing stronger every day and stood up this morning and chewed me out.

I want to be known more than I fear it. I want community more than I fear intimacy. I want to be challenged more than I want to be "fed". I want to follow Jesus no matter the cost more than I fear where He might take me. And I want a community of people to journey with in life here in Nashville that share my passion for Jesus and my longings for community and challenge more than I want to shuffle alongside people who still think Church is a fortress from the "world", rather than the shelter and refuge FOR the world’s most broken, twisted and shattered that it is and was always meant to be. I want a community who desires to pursue Jesus with full-out passion. I want it so bad it hurts. I haven’t had it since I left LA.

And I want strong teaching. I want powerful teaching. I want gut-wrenching, soul-searching, deep-thinking, research-compelling teaching that pushes me to search the Bible on my own for the deeper aspects of the topic, that addresses the controversies of today and challenges me to find the answers in Scripture, to seek out God’s opinion from Him and to dialog with Him on issues the Bible doesn’t "seem" to address. I want to be challenged on Sunday with meaty issues, not fed from the baby-food table of Christianity. That’s what I got each Sunday from Erwin: A challenge from God and a week’s worth of Scripture to dive into and sift through with Jesus to help me meet that challenge.

Is it selfish that I’m starving for this? Is it selfish that I want to find a more like-minded, more mature community with more mature teaching? If I left, would I be leaving a community who really needs me for a community who perhaps doesn’t need me as much?

See, this is why I didn’t want to move away from LA. I admit it. I am selfish. I miss Mosaic. I miss my home and my community. And I miss the solid, meaty no-holds-barred teaching. I miss the frank talk and the friends who continually challenged me to not only live up to what I had already learned, but to be continually learning more. I miss all that and I want to find it again. Because I don’t have it at my current church.

What do I do?

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I Miss Home

Paramount_gateI’ve been watching the SAG awards and my heart is aching. I so miss my home!!

I can’t believe that after all this time I see feel that LA is home; that the Industry is still home. Many have talked tonight about feeling so grateful to be a part of the acting tribe.

I miss my tribe! I don’t have one anymore and I really miss it.

My tribe had been the assistants; everyone from PAs to writers and producer’s assistants. My tribe was all of us who worked one job while working toward and dreaming of another. My tribe was all the wanna-be-soon-to-be’s. My tribe was sometimes at Sony, sometimes at Disney, but mostly at Paramount. Oh, man, how I miss those gates!!

My tribe was also at Mosaic. People who understand what it really means to be "on mission" with Jesus. Who understand the sacrifice it takes to live this life unplugged from the Matrix. Who relate to the not only the struggles but the joys of walking with Jesus; the very personal, quirky ways of God, and who are not afraid to enter into the hard conversations, live life over the edge and give of themselves till they bleed.

I miss LA more than I can say. I miss the feel of the city, the diversity and the crazy people. And yes, even the smog and traffic. I miss driving to the studio every day, walking through the gates and eating lunch at the commissary. I miss talking writing stuff with friends and my bosses and acting jaded about the "industry" at large. Most of all I miss my tribe. My peeps. I miss the creative community, both in the Industry and at Mosaic, who challenged me every single day to make every moment count, to create beauty where ever I went and to be light to the dark world how ever I could. Oh, God, how I miss it all!!

Its not that Nashville is bad, or that my church is unfriendly. Its just that it isn’t home. Mosaic is home. LA is home. I don’t know if anything will be able to replace them in my hearts, and I am working to make the new places I find myself in homey, to make them home as much as possible. I guess it will just take more time than I thought. I really do love Nashville.

But times like tonight remind why I love the Industry so much. There is a culture and a language I understand, that is my heart language. I fall naturally into it. When the actors talk about loving the green room and make up trailer, and hanging out around the craft services table, I understand them on a heart level. When S. Epatha Merkerson won her first SAG award at the age of 54, my heart soars because I know what it means to work so hard in such a hard industry and it gives me such hope that a woman can still get awards in their fifties in such an age-biased industry.

How awesome LA is! Yes, my friends — and all who stop by — if you live in Los Angeles, revel in it. Dance in the moonlight and sing on the freeway on your traffic-ridden drive to work. Smile at the homeless waiting at corners to sell you oranges or wash your windshields and feel warm inside that some film team decided to keep the work in your part of town instead of taking their money and jobs to Canada. Yeah, the rent is too high, housing prices are ridiculous, gas is downright unaffordable and the traffic is maddening. But man, you live in the most diverse, most amazingly entertaining and delightful city in the world! Revel in your home. Nothing can compare.

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Baby Steps

I went to small group/home group "host" (read: leader) training this morning at my church, The People’s Church. My stomach has been tied in knots ever since.

The thought of stepping back into leadership, however "easy" and "short" it may be, scares me more than I thought it would. The commitment is different than it is at Mosaic. Life Group leaders back home are usually identified by other leaders and apprenticed for a while before the group multiplies and the new leaders take the second group. Its a process you go through and prepare months for. And it’s a commitment of usually at least a year — if not longer.

At TPC, hosts can sign up without having been a part of a group. They just feel led to open their homes to people. And the commitment starts as a 7 week trial deal. Try it, see how the group fits, how you fit. Then go from there. If the group fizzles, no pressure, no worries. It just wasn’t meant to be a long one. You can try again. Or join another group already established.

The training was much simpler and more direct as well. Of course, anyone who’s had any contact with Mosaic knows that anything is more direct and simple than Mosaic. Not that things are difficult at Mosaic. Its just that the leadership is so very esoteric; they’re deep thinkers. Even years ago, when Bro. Tom and Carol were casting the vision. So the training is much more about the concepts and philosophies, not the practical how-tos of creating a basic, doable life group meeting.

So why does this all scare me? I think its because I’ve been thrown off this horse twice, no, three, times now and the idea of getting back on brings back unpleasant memories.

Leading is hard. No matter how short it is. No matter how "easy" those above you make it. It takes work. It takes sacrifice. It takes a piece of me. It always takes a piece of me. And that leaves me raw.

So why am I doing this? I don’t know. I just have felt since I moved into my new place that I needed to do this. And maybe even wanted to do it. I don’t know why I want to… I just do… Is that weird?  Then last Sunday the announcement was made that they were looking for leaders for this particular series, lasting 7 weeks. And before I could really think about what I was doing, how I was committing myself once again, I’d filled out the information card and put it in the collection bag.

I could give you some of the reasons swimming in my head. I want to meet new people. I want to make some friends. Small group is the best way to do that. I have a nice little place where people can meet, so why not open it to a group? And its not so much "leading" as it is "facilitating". Or so they said this morning.

Honestly, all those reasons are good. And true. But this afternoon as I drove home from the training I finally discovered the true reason I’m taking this baby step out of my nicely padded comfort zone I’ve been making for myself since I left Mosaic Nashville’s "team": I’m doing it for God. But not in that holy, spiritual way. It’s like a little kid that pulls the paints out and makes a mess on the living room floor. I just want to make a pretty picture for my Dad. If He hangs it on the frig, all the better. But ultimately, it’s for Him.

When did I move from doing things because I was supposed to or expected to, or because I wanted others to know the love and intimacy I have with Jesus, to just wanting to paint a pretty picture for my Dad, just dance a crazy dance for my Beloved?

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To Serve or Be Served

Culture is a river that will pull you downstream unless you swim against the current.

I miss the culture of Mosaic. Larry, Wendy and Nina are right, it is the exception of community, not the rule. One of the things I’ve been missing most will sound odd to some. I miss the culture of servanthood.

It was easy to be a servant there. It was easy to give sacrificially. The culture of the community — the ethos, to use an old/new word — of servant-leadership was so strong and so pervasive that it pulled me downstream toward true spiritual generosity in every aspect of my life. I didn’t have to work hard at keeping that characteristic at the forefront of my heart and life. Mosaic as a core group, as my community and my friends, did it for me. It thrust me into the middle of a vortex of service where the only way out was to get out of the pool altogether.

The culture of the Church in Nashville is much different. I don’t mean just the church I go to; I mean the Church (big C) in general. I sense a growing emphasis among leadership in The People’s Church toward servanthood. But the current of culture still strongly flows down the river of Being Served.

For a sojourner who’s tired and battle weary, it’s a comfortable current. I like being carried like this; not feeling the urgent need to serve, knowing that "someone else" will take care of tear-down or set up or clean up or…. whatever. It’s amazing what a large church provides. There are people who get paid to set up and tear down tables for events. People paid to cater meals and reimbursements for those who buy with their own money, even childcare reimbursements are provided. Even sound set up is minimal compared to an average Sunday at Mosaic (though I must admit, Mosaic has better soundboards!).

However, all this cushiness cannot supplant the 10 years of cultural training. I still find myself picking up trash, straightening chairs, wanting to put things away and clean up.

I’m not serving like I used to. Worse, I don’t know how to serve in such a huge community. I feel lost in the crowd and carried downstream by the current of being served. How do I get out of this? How do I find the strength to fight the current and swim upstream to where help is needed? And how do I find the places to serve which fit my gifts?

Back home I knew the people to ask. I knew who to go to when I wanted to plug in somewhere. Heck, I didn’t need to ask. People came to me. Somehow, from early on I got a reputation for being the go-to girl; and so I was the one people "go-to". If I were to go home today, I’d be plugged in by midnight. Somewhere, somehow, someone would find out and call.

I know serving isn’t just about the inside of the church. I know its mainly about serving outside, in the world. I know its really about a way of life, not something you do on certain days. Somehow, though, I’ve forgotten how to live that way. Somehow I’ve gotten caught in a vortex of exhaustion and depression and isolation.  I no longer know where the line is between healthy rest and laziness.

I listened to Erwin’s sermon on Extraordinary Service and felt the pinch of conviction; am I doing enough? I don’t think I am. I read Wendy’s blog, Niza’s blog, Amy (a wonderful woman/old friend at Mosaic), Lillia and an new blog I found from a new Mosaic-ite, Cindy, and I’m reminded of the old current I once swam in. It was so easy then! Now I must fight the current AND give my life away generously.

But I’m so tired —- and I so long to just hang on to my life, what’s left of it, now that I’ve just begun to find my footing in life again. I feel torn apart by my own hands, one pulling against the current, one desperate to stay in the groove.

Erwin, as always, had much to say I needed to hear. One thing stuck out in this first listening of Extraordinary Service (side note: I remember him preaching similar sermons about 8 years ago — Wendy and I tackled memorizing the book of Philippians during the series, as Erwin preached the book through.). Erwin says, "You don’t wait till you’re strong enough to serve. You serve and it makes you stronger."

My new pastor, Rick, talked yesterday of the vision God’s given him for The People’s Church over the next year or so and I was reminded of Mosaic. Two urgent projects are a church plant in New York City and a satellite service in Spring Hill (about 20 minutes south of our campus). My mind immediately whirled with all the details experience taught me will be involved in these two endeavors. Who will the teams be? Needs for set up and tear down and clean up and ambiance and planning and tech stuff…. on and on. It wore me down just thinking about it. Yet it excited me at the same time. I wasn’t among a community just sitting around. They are moving and growing and determined to stay in the world, involved in the movement of God. It once again convinced me that I’m plugging into a community that is following Jesus.

Yet I left disconsolate, longing even more for the culture back home which would just sweep me along the current of servanthood as we chugged along together. Perhaps I’m looking in the wrong places at TPC. Perhaps I just haven’t found the servant current yet. I don’t know.

But I guess the true question on my heart at the moment is, How can I summon the courage and strength to serve and give my life generously on my own? Pray for me.

A generous man will prosper; he who refreshes others will himself be refreshed.  Proverbs 11:25

For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.  2 Tim 1:6-7

"No matter how physically sick, no matter how emotionally sick, no matter how weak you feel, you can serve someone today." — Erwin

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Looking for the Promised Community

I arrived late, because I over-slept. But I made it.

I was made later still by lack of parking. I drove around and around but couldn’t find a single space available. No one was in the parking lot to guide me to another place to park, or give me permission to create one. So I was on my own. I finally made my own parking space in the parking lot. Had I not been determined to be there, no matter how late I was, I would not have stayed. What was the point? It seemed no one there really cared if I, or anyone else as late as I, stayed or not because no one was outside to help with the obvious lack of parking.

I walked into the building, but there was no one there to greet me or guide me to a place to sit. I entered the room, which was very dark because the overhead lights were off and nothing but a few bright lamps lit the space. I stood in the doorway for quite a while, visible to most, if not all, the people, as I scoured the dimly lit crowd for a friendly face. One kind, recent acquaintance cheerfully greeted me, but the seats by him were filled. No one ever got up to lead me to an empty seat. Everyone was too busy talking to people around them, their friends.

Finally, as the musicians began to play again, I saw one friendly face and made my way to her chair. After a warm, long hug — we hadn’t seen each other in weeks — we chatted briefly and I thought to sit at her feet, since there weren’t any other free chairs nearby and still no one was offering to help me find one.

That’s when I heard it. The voice of my kindred spirit. I turned and saw him clearing a chair for me. Of course he would! He knows. He knows what its like to be in my place. He knows what real community is about. He understands that it must be purposeful and intentional, not random and "organic", whatever that means.

I sat with him the rest of the time.

I listened to a "talk" about community. About how it must be organic — yet no explanation was given what that means or what that looks like — about how it just happens and no amount of "systems" will make it sprout or grow; about how someone wants to move here because of the accidental and incidental "community" that exists when people unintentionally run into each other in the grocery store or at the local coffee shop. Big city flight to the appearances of community offered by a small town neighborhood.

I listened and felt sad. Sad for the speaker and sad for all who listened. If the speaker was describing what community at this place looked like, I didn’t want any part of that "organic" stuff. I’d just experienced a lack of welcome or help. If that’s what he considers community, no thanks. I can get that at the grocery store.

Real community rarely just happens. It has to be created. It has to be nurtured. And it has to be intentional. The kind of community described in the "talk" by the email-writer-big-city-mover soon to be in Nashville isn’t the kind we as followers of Christ are called to. It’s accidental. It’s nice. It’s good. And it should be used as an open door. But it’s not the real deal. The real stuff lies beyond the doors of communal living.

Real community is intentional. It is created when people intentionally build it, not just accidentally run into each other at Kroger. That’s nice and fun and wonderful and all, but what if the person who needs community doesn’t live in your neighborhood? What if they are at your work? What if they walked into your "gathering" just off the street?

What if I was that person? I would not have found it yesterday morning. I was not sought out by anyone who didn’t already know me (and very few do at this point, most of the folks I know having left already). No one was in the parking lot to help, even though there is a very, very obvious need for that. No one came to my aid as a stood as obvious as a naked statue at the "pulpit" of a Southern Baptist sanctuary, obviously in need. Yet no one was there. No one who did not already know me extended community to me. And only two from the other group who did know me sought me out.

Had I been in desperate need, I would have left still in need. And I would not return. Why should I? "Organic" community did not happen for me.

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The End

It’s done. It is no more. What began as a small rag-tag group meeting in the park last August ended with a much larger and somewhat different group meeting in "the living room" for the last time.

Stones marked our journey, as we piled them into what will eventually become a lamp. I put one in just to mark that I was there once, like scratching my name into my desk on the last day of school.

I’m sad. Looking around the room tonight, I knew I had been a part of something unique and special. And I knew that we will probably never capture that again.

Some may argue that that isn’t a thing to mourn. They are mistaken. Every loss in life is worthy of mourning. We must take time to mourn, even the small losses in life. We must take time to acknowledge that our hearts are rended each time something or someone we love and have invested in is separated from us. If we don’t take that time, the wounds of our loss will become infected with bitterness.

I’m exhausted too. My eyes want to close even as I type. It’s been a heck of an emotional rollercoaster ride the last week or so, which is more wearing on the body than hard labor. And I feel it, to my bones.

But I also feel released, free. I’m no longer obligated or invested in Mosaic. It’s as if some invisible ties to "the past" have been cut (not sure what that means exactly, it’s just the way I feel) and I’m free to investigate the rest of Nashville, see what’s out there and if, perhaps, God brought me here for a different purpose than I thought.

This is what the LORD says– he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters, who drew out the chariots and horses, the army and reinforcements together, and they lay there, never to rise again, extinguished, snuffed out like a wick:

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland." — Isa 43:16-19