Dirt

I apologize to my non-readers for failing to finish up on the Kester Brewin book like I promised. What a shameful Christian I am. Well, let me sum up, but in very much my own words, what Kester was saying when he wrote about dirt. God is not to be found in the swept and kept areas of life, but in the dirt and filth of suffering--in the uncleanliness of our continual failure to love each other well. Churches are uber clean of life. I mentioned this in an earlier blog too; we have removed "church" from everyday existence and it is now, for many people, sterile. I think that this is perhaps why people come to the gritty, charming, and very alive coffee house that I now find myself in. It isn't "clean" like church. There's no vacuumed carpet, its not dusted, instead there is a beaten up wooden floor and rough, marred brick walls. It's lovely because it isn't perfectly clean, one doesn't worry about messing it up because it seems that there is a place all ready for someone to sit down and get comfortable. It feels lived in, therefore life feels present here. Churches can feel empty simply because there's no one in them most days of the week. We have huge sanctuaries dedicated to one or two services a week. The rest of the time they are silent and lonely. Maybe God gets lonely in these quiet spaces so she wanders out to see what is going on in the rest of the world--just a thought. Not only lonely, but bored. Church can feel like wandering into the part of the house your mother has set aside for guests where everything is arrainged perfectly so nothing can be touched. You get in there and look around, look at how pristine everything is, how perfectly positioned the pictures and knick-knacks are, how stain free the chairs and carpeting. You stand in the midst of this place and take in its sameness, its perfection, its silence, its rejection of your desire to live there. It says to you, "there is no place here for your play, for your rest, for you." This place must be maintained as it is, for to do otherwise would be to ruin it.
basically shit needs to happen in church. Church should not be a place where dirt cannot enter into it because as Brewin points out, if dirt can't enter, it cannot be a place where people come to be cleaned. Dirt is a part of life, life must be a part of church, therefore, dirt must be a part of church. We need to know we can enter in, settle down--get comfortable and move the furniture. We cannot consign ourselves to a God who is afraid to get dirty, to enter the darkest parts of our lives and be present there with us. If there is no dirt, there is no need for redemption, and our faith is a sham--a denial of how things really are. We must be willing to acknowledge that we are dirty, bring it with us to our faith community, to worship, and to God. When we start doing this, we can begin to know what it is to truly be clean.
I hope this was clear enough. I'm multi-tasking right now.

Gettin out and about

Well, for the past week or so, I've been getting out and around the tri-cities area trying to make connections with people. This is just not easy, even without a job like mine. Last weekend I joined in the Saginaw and Bay city rowing clubs' regatta row of 13.5 miles (from Saginaw to Bay City) and it was one of the more painful things I've done in my adventuresome life. Why? I'm so glad you asked. When one rows, the hands are rubbed repeatedly over a wooden or plastic ore and this causes blisters--big puffy blisters on the palm of the hand. Also, you must sit up very straight and hold this straight-ness while you row (horrible for chronic slouchers like me). Finally your ass is moving back and forth on a sliding wooden seat that is guaranteed to numb your cheeks for hours to come. And then, when you are finished and your arms cannot possible do another thing, you have to pick up the boat and store it. Joy. Why do I do this? Well, I'm falling in love this sport--also, I meet people. It was recommended to me to do things that I like (definately good advice). So, tomorrow I will be trying to go to a yoga class in Midland and see who I can meet there. Again, this is something I think I would like even though my experience with it is very limited. If I don't make connections, I suppose I will still be incredibly fit right? :)

Yesterday I had the opportunity (which I took) to go to Northwood University and see if I could meet some students. It was Northwood's "Get Connected" day with churches and businesses coming out and putting up displays for students to visit, get info, and most importantly, get stuff. Yours truly didn't have any "stuff" other than some cookies and flyers. There was no way I was going to compete with the Mackinaw Center's Students for a Free Economy; they had an ipod they put up for a raffle. Oh, and t-shirts. To top things off, just next to them was the Evangelical Free church which has more money than God and probably holds his mortgage. They had their twenty-something group advertised and plenty of twenty-something people running the table. They too were giving something away but I couldn't see what it was. This lead me to really think about what I was trying to accomplish because I'm not entirely sure now what that is.

As far as the emerging church is concerned, I'm not sure if there is anyone doing anything like this on college campuses. I should google it, but all that I've read thus far has been off-campus. Can an emerging church even be sustained in a college setting where the community is constantly changing? I will be meeting with two students tomorrow and I am very curious to see if this model is attractive to them or if they would rather have a more traditional college ministry. Frankly, what is the difference between a college ministry and an emerging church? What does a Canterbury club look like? I know the priest in charge of the C-club at NYU was doing services and dinners--pretty much what I want to do. Which makes me jump immediately to the concept of worship in the emergent community--it can look like anything. But is it merely a difference in worship that would set us apart? What about theologically? I have a theology that is very broad, would be considered very liberal, permissive even. I see it as a theology that engages with the world where it is already and not try and make it something it probably shouldn't be (change, however, is still a essential element--obviously the world is still screwed up). Where does that place me with college students? How do I engage them theologically and challenge them without betraying my own values and expect them to be in the same place as I? Would the group even function differently than other college groups? Would we be more "out" in the world or would we function as a social group essentially? See, people tell me that their groups are aimed at bringing people to Christ. This is what I am doing as well, but I also want that relationship with Jesus to extend beyond their minds and into their bodies, their relationships, and their everyday rhythm. I know this is what other groups would claim as well, so again, how is what I am doing different? Maybe I wont' know exactly until I experience it. For now it seems good enough to say that I want Jesus to influence what they do, meaning what they create, rather than influencing what they don't do. To clarify, I want people to worry more about what God is calling them into, rather than what he is calling them out of. Even more simply, I want people to engage with a God that is more about do's than about dont's. Does this help?
I am in such a funny place today. I'm trying to find my way down a path where I have no sight, few guides and a language I've taken away from seminary that doesn't quite work in this context. I'm still being translated into this new area, this new job, this new work that I was not trained to do. So, today is a little hard for me and I woke up tired and a little down. I have to tell myself that I have only been on the job two months and that it isn't my time, but God's. That sounds so cliche that I could choke on it, but really I have no control over any of this and I find that disconcerting. Church has really gotten cliche though too. I think that's why i'm so attracted to the emerging church--because it is a surprising thing. Now, how do I tell others about it? Hmmmm.

Potter's House in Traverse City Michigan

I've just returned to the Tri-Cities from Traverse City where I hung out with the fabulous congregation of Potter's House, a UCC new church plant. They are about two years old and have around fifty (ish) people who attend on a regular basis. You know, (actually, you probably don't but that's another blog) as a deacon, it is my role to SERVE the church and generally that means setting the table (altar) and reading the gospel on Sundays (besides all the service done during the rest of the week). What did I do this past Sunday? I made fondue!!!! This was a first for me--both in making the fondue and in having fondue at church (oh, also the chocolate fountain there was part of my series of fabulous firsts!) The pastor is Corey Sanderson and I met him in his book-filled office on Front Street in TC. If you've never been to Front street or Traverse City, you should check it out--especially in the fall. Lovely time of year to be on the bay and having a hot cup of coffee or tea outside. Anyway, I met Corey at his office where he was preparing for Sunday's service and realized that I shouldn't have been so concerned about dressing up for the service. I was wearing a blue t-shirt, black cardigan, and brown skirt with heels. He met me in jeans, sensible shoes (which he later pointed out to me) and a bowling shirt (which included his name)! I knew then that those days of me showing up to church in a sweatshirt and torn up jeans were not entirely over (with some, er, modification).
So, I meet Corey and get to hear his story and the story of Potter's House. For the sake of space and time, I'll bottom line it for you: relationships--they made friends, one person at a time. If there is one thing for me to take away from everything that I've read and heard, its relationships are key. Real, real, and for real relationships. The fact of the matter is, I don't want anything else either. I am new to this area--I'd like to know people. For real (as my friend Megan would say). The other thing I need to take away from all that I've learned is to be patient. This is going to take some time, like all good things. So, if you're reading this, won't you be my friend? Just kidding--that's weird and if you say 'yes' I may not talk to you for a little bit. Lately my email and phone are a vortex of darkness and worm holes sucking everything into them, but giving nothing back. So I think I'd freak out for a second if something actually did come back. Again, must be patient....

If you're ever in the TC area, check out Potter's House: Sundays at 5:30 on S. Oak.

Here's the web site: http://www.pottershouseucc.org/
I don't know how to insert links yet, so bear with me. Thanks!

Ok, next post I'll finish my thoughts on Kester Brewin's book!

Gifts according to Kester Brewin

Kester Brewin, in his book "Signs of Emergence" proposes that "a conjunctive approach to faith must reevaluate the church's modes of exchange, and that central to our critique of consumerism must be the rediscovery of the transaction of gift." Wha....? Well, simply put, a gift is something that gets passed along, with nothing given for it in return--there is no exchange, a gift is not a commodity for it cannot be bought. In clarifying this for us, Brewing argues that we in our lives of faith enact that faith as a gift to the world--meaning that there is nothing we should expect in return for our work: no greater numbers, no pat on the back, no nuthin'. Because it is not about what we get out of things such as worship, but what we put into them. Let me pause here a moment to snark a bit about the "mega-church worship style" which I have always felt was more commercial than sacred. All that light and music, showmanship and special affects. It always reminded me of the circus; what do we bring to the circus? Nothing except ourselves and our desire to be entertained. At the same time, with the repetition you get in more mainline churches, there is also the same risk of "going through the motions" and not putting any more into it than one would at the non-denominational megachurch. Worship must involve the person as a participant--putting something out there without the need or expectation of getting anything back from it. Not that something won't come back, but that the outflowing of someone's being, personhood, love, is more important than what they are getting out of the experience. But something is going to come back to us. So how does one manage a kind of balance between the giving and eventual reception?
There is a way to keep gifts from becoming an exchange, Brewing points out, and that is to give the gift up to a third party so that the gift actually disappears. Gifts given back and forth are no longer gifts, but exchanges because, of course, there is the expectation that one will recieve something in exchange for his or her gift. Think about what the value of your gift is then. It is merely the value of the thing you will get in exchange. This is what commodities exchanges do for us, teaches what the value of something is in terms of money. In such a model of direct reciprocity, there is no growth, no broadening of one's view, no creativity, and fundamentally, no love. When we emphasize giving, rather than recieving, we can remove ourselves from the consumer identity our society has given us and stop valuing things one-dimensionally (dollars and cents). Instead, we open ourselves up to value things as gifts, with all the meaning and love that goes into making something a gift. It has the potential to reshape how we live and indeed how we worship. A third party, in whom the gift (as Brewin points out) disappears, keeps the gift from making its way directly back to us. This emphasis on giving makes me wonder what the difference then between worship and living would look like. Perhaps the distinction would be lessened? Possibly.
Brewing goes on to point out that gifs are terribly personal, and to allow someone to share his or her gift in the worship sphere allows that individual to worship with "integrity". And see, here is why I really like this book. Brewin's understanding of gift demands that a person have agency. By this I mean that a person can fully engage in the world as faithful Christians and can use this ability to reshape the way we live, worship, pray, and so on. When a person has his or her full ability to act, then the sky is the limit. There is no longer one way to do something, and certainly no one way to be a Christian. We all have gifts given to us, doesn't it seem appropriate that we all have a space in which to share these gifts? And not just certain kinds of gifts, but all kinds which means that we must create flexible spaces to accomodate such variety. Sounds like fun to me.

"Signs of Emergence" by Kester Brewin

I just finished reading this amazing little book by Kester Brewin, a church planter who helped to found the the alternative worship group Vaux in England. Vaux is a group of artists and city lovers who use their gifts to create worship that is culturally relevant and meaningful to those in the community. After reading this book, I got the distinct impression that their worship style can be rather provocative. Good for them.
Brewin's understanding is that church has to happen on the "edge of chaos" where the rawness of life meets its own ability to self-organize and create some kind of order, meaning that the church should be formed from the bottom up, organically, naturally, without centralized power or leadership. It is a community formed out of the participation of all who are involved and it brings into that community the whole of these individuals' lives and joins them together in the body of Christ. As I read, there was one section in particular that stood out. It has to do with cities, gifts and dirt.
In regards to cities, Brewin points to the spirituality of these places, arguing that God is calling us to the cities and not from them; we are just as capable of finding God in the city as we are in 'nature.' He writes:

In building cities, human hands have taken divine materials and worked them to create new ones. Thus the very fabric of the city is testament to the cooperation between God and humanity. It is a co-creation, a partnership where God has provided the raw materials and we have worked them into fabulous architectural masterpieces full of light and space, allowing the free movement and congregation of people, exchanging ideas and technologies...soaring skycrapers cloaked in glass, brownstone apartment blocks and Manhattan townhouses, expansive docks and arching bridges...and slums and tenement blocks and concrete monstrosities and gluttonous penthouses and temples to money and mean streets. In our cities, life's rich tapestry is woven altogether, and it tells the full story of the triumphs and disasters of our urban project. We have built perfect testaments to the human situation: taking God's gifts and simultaneiously using and abusing them. Both our divine heritage and rebellious creativity are betrayed in our buildings.

This is a very long quote. Sorry all my non-readers, but for someone who came out of very rural Northern Michigian and who also lived for three years in New York City, what he has to say is astounding. For me, God was always in the trees, the sky, the earth--cities were those places that drowned out God with congestion and noise. After living in New York though, I discovered that it is true that God has not turned his back on the cities, in fact, he is there waiting for us to join in. There is so much life that happens in cities, so much beauty, so filled with ugliness as well.
I witnessed this life happening in Saginaw last Sunday night. It was a cool evening, there were soft lights illuminating the near-by narrow brick "bread-box" buildings' store fronts. People were wandering all around, there to watch Napoleon Dynamite from a parking lot along side one of these buildings. There was pizza to eat, people to meet, and life teeming all around Old Towne. This in a city that, from what I have been told, has pretty much been kicked while it was down (economically speaking)over the last several years. But here were all these people coming together in a community event; some were volunteers, there because they wanted to make a difference--because they cared about the once thriving city of Saginaw.

I want to do that too because I feel like God is already there, calling me and others to join in a kind of common life.

More on Gift and Dirt later!