Prayer For Being Careful With Your Words.

Last Sunday, I gave a talk at imagine/Northampton called "Our Words Leave Marks On Others." The main idea centered on the  power of the tongue to speak life or death to other people. It can crush or liberate them using mere words. But as a counselor, much of my work has to do with people striving to help folks heal from those rascals. It is no small task for many. A word has the power to alter the trajectory of an entire life. Throwing them around like so much confetti is a fool's errand to say the least.

Of late, I've been composing Opening and Closing Prayers we say together in our worship. The prayers reflect the theme of the day helping us enter in and leave Sunday worship under the umbrella of a commonly- held idea. So I thought I'd share it with you in the hope you could use it to be more mindful of what you say.

Father of lights,

Fill my words this  week with grace and truth, wisdom and gentleness.
Set a guard, Oh Lord, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips.
Set a guard over my heart that I might not be careless, rash or irresponsible in anything I say. 
Let my words give life and liberty, not wounding or discouraging.
Let me hear clearly others words, and speak rightly such that nothing I say deceives, discourages or diminishes anyone.
Visit my thoughts with your Word that I might honor you in every conversation I have.

Make it so.

Amen

Thoughts From My Second Encounter With the Man and the Pigeons.

Just after sunrise early this fresh morning was the second time I've seen him. The first was with Tricia. He parks a newer pick-up truck in the eastern field adjacent to the 3-County Fairgrounds here in Northampton. When we prayerwalk, we often head there first to catch the new sun, luxuriate (and wake up!) in the fresh air, and warm up for the rest of the walk.

You should check it out at sunrise sometime. It's worth the trip.

This morning, he'd already opened the cages and the birds were flying as a flock in ever-expanding circles until they disappeared over the trees bordering I-91 to the east. As he was taking his last look to see if they were heading in the right direction - I'm assuming - I caught his eye and commented on the fact he was training the birds. I followed it with a question about where they they were heading. He said Brattleboro and explained he's also trained flocks to head from as far Cleveland, Ohio to Boston. He was friendly, and seemed to enjoy my interest in what he was up to.

I mentioned Tricia was born in Brooklyn, and was aware of people having homing pigeons on their roofs. His face lit up saying he'd been born in Brooklyn, and he'd had them on his roof there too. Small world.

Often on these prayerwalks I'm in a contemplative mindset, and notice intriguing spiritual connections in things I see as I walk. I just notice stuff which sparks thought. This morning as I was reflecting on watching the homing pigeons fly home or to their destination together, it struck me that God calls us to journey through life together and to help each other return to our true home with him. While certainly some of the journey is walked in solitary such as when we must face challenges and problems, and  rely solely on God to get us where only we can go, he has also summoned us to travel with companions of the heart. It's what communitas, fellowship, and spiritual family are about.

So as I watched the flock, I noticed at first, birds set to flight after the first group were out of sync with it, and had to work to catch up before heading to their destination together. The larger group would stay circling until every bird joined the synchrony. I don't know if that is the way it always goes, but from what I've seen from my two encounters, that's the way it's done. In reality, while each bird had to take to wing individually, they chose to journey with the flock..

So should we, if we understand God has supplied fellow pilgrims to join and help us make our way home. We must join the group, and the group should "wait up" until all who've taken to flight to make the trip are  accounted for. No one is forced to go, but the best way to head out is together. I know this isn't a pure analogy, often everybody seems to have a different pace, but I think the idea of extending grace to "stragglers," and folks who can't seem to keep it together much of the time so everyone has a chance to come along is a right view of the church.

I like that.

Sure, it's certainly easier said than done, what with people's penchant for "I've got a better flight plan thank you very much," or for wandering into spiritually dangerous territory from time to time, or "I don't like this flock's way of thinking or doing things," and on and on. And yes, it's messy as I suspect it is for those working with homing pigeons, but I think it's God's prescribed mode of pilgrimage to the destination for which we were made.

Nothing earth-shattering, I know, but a simple reminder from of God that we're meant to be in this thing together.

Why We Have a Leadership Team Rather Than a Formal Pastorate.

Since imagine/Northampton started meeting as a church people have periodically asked me or Jim if either of us is its pastor. It's often assumed because we've played an upfront role on Sunday morning, and because I and Tricia work as full-time counselors and staff for imagine in the Northampton office.

Be that as it may, 5 years ago when we were getting a picture of what imagine would be, we were all convinced a collegial leadership team rather than a traditional pastor/laity model was the right one for the vision we were seeing. We didn't want a personality-driven or "I'm the boss; you're not" traditional model. It didn't fit at all. Our conviction was that no one person, no matter how gifted, equipped, or trained should carry the weight of the church, or be seen as having some special pedigree or spiritual status which set him or her apart from everyone else by virtue of formal position or title.

Sure, we recognize differing gifts, and equipping. We know there are leadership gifts which have certain qualities and distinctives. We take that all very seriously, especially in terms of the responsibilities involved. But, we do not want to create a church culture where a few determine everything for the many who function mostly as spiritual consumers, spectators, and occasional volunteers. We want people vitally involved in all aspects of imagine, caring the load for what God is doing in and through it, not merely showing up on Sunday and going along with the program from week to week.

So we have a Leadership Team, and we see it as a servant leadership team. There are now 5 of us: 2 men and 3 women. Two of the women have just joined us and are being discipled in the development of their leadership gifts with imagine. Our gifts economy makes it such that dispersed within the team are vision and creative gifts, teaching and preaching gifts, counseling and discipling gifts, administrative, planning and operations gifts. None of us see ourselves as the head honcho. We defer to one another, share responsibility and support each other individually. Our ages range from early 60'e to mid-20's. We're both married and single.

In the not-too-distant future, we desire to develop elders who will help care for, and guide the spiritual life of imagine/Northampton. God will raise up those people and they will be recognizable in our midst because of their Christ-likeness, particularly humility, wisdom, live and service. Some may be on the Leadership Team; some won't. However, they will, in tandem the Leadership Team, be dedicated to helping people discover and follow the God who is far more than they imagine.

In the next year, we're also hoping God will raise up the next Leadership Team to plant another imagine church. In one sense, it's an audacious thought in that we are small, but we have a big vision and an astoundingly resourceful God who summons his followers to step out into such bigness, given the magnificent reality that God " is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think, according to the power that is [already] at work in us." (Eph.3:20)

So we have a Leadership Team rather than a formal pastorate. We think it will ultimately foster a culture of collaboration and interplay where power granted to lead is not ruling over people, but serving them so they might fulfill what God has called all of us to do together; gifts differing, but hearts united in the same direction. Each person is vital in God's design. No one has a higher stature based on position or title. Expectations are the same for all: follow Christ; incarnate his Kingdom in the world around you.

BTW: I need to say we feel neither superior nor wiser than Christians who lead and serve in Pastor-led churches. We are merely doing what seems right to us for such a time and place as this.

May God bless all who labor in his Kingdom!

imagine/Northampton is Planted, (Check); Now What's Next?

Lately, I've been wrestling with a different set of issues from the ones I wrestled with in planting imagine/Northampton. We've been in Northampton for 4 years now. The Eagle has landed so to speak. I don't talk about planting imagine/Northampton anymore. It's planted.

The questions I'm asking and the concerns I'm working on are different now. When imagine became more than a "What if we could . . .?", or "Is God calling us to . . .?" idea, the questions were:

Where do we begin? Who do we need to learn from?

How do you actually do this?

What will it look like?

What will each of our roles be?

What will imagine's culture look like?

What are our core values?

Can we pay for and sustain the planting?

How will all the critical pieces take shape?

Those first days, weeks and months were a heady, exciting period. We weren't experts at this. We were older, and all sorts of challenges lie ahead with no assurance beyond faith we could pull off any of it. We were starting from scratch. Nothing existed, but a longing, and a compelling idea.

But today, I think there are different questions to answer and challenges to meet. For me, the most crucial  has become centered around how do you deepen and ignite a movement, rather than maintain an organization or build an institution? The "danger" I see at this point in our young life as a church is settling into equilibrium. It happens subtly, almost imperceptibly for many. We have an established identity and church culture with "rituals" (albeit simple), core beliefs, structures (also simple), and commonly held ways of relating. Imagine/Northampton looks and acts a certain way. The problem arises when who we are and how we relate internally becomes our raison d' etre. We settle for the groove we've gradually created.

Before I go further, let me explain what I mean by "equilibrium" related to church. In general, I mean a church's central focus slowly settles into how to sustain internal relationships, values, systems, protocols, programs and cultures. To that end, we ask questions such as:

How can we make our Sunday Service better, more inviting and relevant to our people.

How can we make our building better meet our needs?

Where can we rev up Children's Ministry or revitalize our Men's Ministry?

How come we don't have a Healing Prayer Ministry?

When can we do something about the Nursery to make it more inviting?

How can we ramp up giving?

How can we get a tighter hold on the budget?

We need more small groups and small group curricula. Who can we get to make that happen?

The Worship Team sounds a little tired. How can we get them to kick it up a notch?

How can we get more volunteers, produce better outreach events, offer more Bible study, entice greater attendance on Sunday and on and on?

Equilibrium is the church sinking gradually into managing and maintaining itself. The focus is us, becoming an end in itself. We manage or improve what we have and what we've become. What's wrong with that?

Now don't misunderstand me. Any of those questions can be important to consider from time to time, especially within a larger Kingdom context. I know people need to be healed, taught, cared for, and involved.there are plenty of practical "management issues to address in the on-going life of a church community. Internal matters need attention, but only in light of keeping our forward movement vibrant for what God calls us to in his mission.

So for the last few months, I've been growing unsettled, out of sorts spiritually and motivationally; something seemed consistently out of kilter. The feeling was/is disorienting, as if I'm in one of those liminal states again where I've passed through a stage of my particular journey to a place of unformed potential needing shaping. I didn't like where I was. Adding to the dissonance has been the niggling sense that what I seek lies just out of reach. True, but the feeling won't stop pestering me. 

Recently, however, very different questions have surfaced in my head; they all gather around our stated vision:

Building Kingdom-focused communities which creatively engage the culture to help 

people discover and follow the God who is far more than they imagine.

In an earlier blog I detailled imagine/Northampton's vision: 

 http://oldmenplantingchurches.blogspot.com/2011/10/imaginenorthamptons-visionation-meeting.html

Hence, the new questions center on the words: building, Kingdom focused, and creatively engage. For instance:

Are we really building (developing) a Kingdom-focused communitas where the Missio Dei has become compelling in us all? If so, how? How does that "compelling" play out in our daily lives? What do we need to do better? Where are we mis-aligned with it, and thinking we aren't? Where are we treading water, but feel like we're moving forward? Where are we resisting?

Are we creatively engaging the culture or do we just talk about  it as if we are? In actuality, does it really matter to us - to what degree or in what way? What do we need to change or dismantle to get to really serving the creative community in Northampton? Can we innovate or engage creatively; is it even in us?

Where might we be slipping slowly into being church with a few quirky community habits expressed in worship, or how we do groups, or the language we use? One person said in response to my question about how Sunday worship was at imagine by using the word "routine." Yikes!!! I don't like the sound of that, but might we be drifting into the well-worn "rut of the gradual familiar?" Most churches do. Then, the creatives and innovators who might be attending end up having little or no influence in the church culture. Losing their out-of-the-box voices heightens the inevitability of equilibrium - a kiss of death in my mind.

How common is it for we imagineurians to work hard at helping people discover and follow the God who is far more than they imagine? Where are the stories we are telling each other about what God did in so-and-so's life because we helped her discover him? There have been a few, but would a guest get the sense by being in our midst that helping people this way is truly at the core of our DNA because of the stories we tell each other when we gather, and the evidence of new life?

So it seems to me that if we're going to do what our vision says we're about, one of the ways we need to go about it is by beginning taking seriously the call to replicate who we are, i.e., begin laying the groundwork for planting other imagine churches, whether they begin in homes and neighborhoods, adjacent towns on Main Street, or cities in New England and beyond. I suspect such a notion probably feels grandiose, but is it really in light of the Scriptures and how the first Christians set the example of, at great cost and risk, going out into the world to make disciples and teach them what Jesus commands all his followers to be and do? Are we exempt from this call? These folks were not professionals, yet they changed the world through the indwelling Holy Spirit, because they, by vigorous faith,  followed the living Christ in his redemptive mission. They saw it as a mandate, privilege and duty--the normal Christian way of life.

We certainly have had our share of trials and troubles here in Northampton, and we don't have a lock on how to do this thing (it often seems more like one step forward and two steps back many times), but we're planted, and there is a small group of gifted, wonderful people gathered in this church. 

Potential abounds. Yet it needs to be focused, vivified, and set free as a vibrant culture of collaborators with one heart and mind centered on God's glory, the furthering of his ways, and freeing blind captives wandering about. We look to make it happen, and will be spending time and energy doing so in the days ahead.

When Toasted is Where You've Arrived.

I wrote this a few weeks ago, but I don't feel the same way as I did. I'm not completely out of the woods though. My reason for writing was to describe what it felt like. It was an authentic portrayal of what was going on. I'm making changes and recovering. Just so you know. Also, my father-in-law died a few days after writing this as well. Being with family took the emotional focus off me. It helped.

 I'm sitting in one of the front bedrooms of my mother-in-law's lovely family summer house in Ventnor, New Jersey. We've spent many a summer vacation here. On vacation here we are again.

To be completely honest, I can't remember when I've needed a two-week summer vacation more than this one. In fact, I've gone along without a substantial vacation at all beyond a jam-packed week, a day here or a long weekend there. It's not been unusual for me to work extended strings of week's with no day-off whatsoever. The flow of my work has lent itself to such a pace as rule. Nobody but me is requiring it.

But what I've been experiencing feels different, and very uncomfortable.

I realized a few weeks back I'd headed into a spiritual, emotional, psychological, creative, mental and relational vacuum people euphemistically refer to as being toasted (I'm using the slang term in the sense that most of my internal circuits are fried, not in the sense I'm higher than a kite, or I'm going to die). Here's what it's felt like the last month or so:

1. I am tired, really spent on many levels.

2. I'm emotionally at my limit in terms of how much I can navigate people's (non-counseling related) stuff right now. I've never been there before to this degree. The reality is, I have fumes in the emotional IQ tank right now. At the worst, it has been traumatizing of late for me to be around painful people stuff. (What has been able to neutralize the negative effects some is the life I see in very talented imagineurians who are stepping to the plate and owning the work we share). Such a response is still living a dream for me.

3. I turned off my sense of humor; it's not safe to let it respond naturally; sometimes people get hurt when I do. I can't remember experiencing that before.

4. My creative juices seem congealed, so there is little insight or imagining taking place. It feels just not present.My left-brain is standing guard, so my right brain is quiet.

5. My mind has no savor for problem-solving or thinking through a difficult issue. In fact, it feels on autopilot, skimming the surface of what I perceive, never landing anywhere for a closer look.

6. Playing music for me is flat and uninspiring of late with the exception of practicing mechanics. In fact, my drumming is less creatively "playful" or adventurous than I'm capable.

7. I have meager patience, transactional flexibility, forbearance, and ""roll with the punches latitude giving" than is characteristic of me. My nerves jangle and over-fire unpleasantly way too much.

8. I find myself longing repeatedly to be away in the woods, sitting by a lake or the ocean, driving up north into Vermont, prayerwalking in the very early morning with Tricia, or standing atop a peak looking at a breathtaking vista.

9. I've noticed I'm more jazzed when reading about ministry innovation than ministering in the trenches day in and day out. I care, but I'm empty.

Just so you know,  having been seriously depressed at least once in my life, I recognize the difference between what I'm experiencing of late, and the "slough of despond."  I'm not depressed. I'm just toasted at every circuit because of being way overexposed and foolishly overextended. Prudent guarding and balance were necessary, but absent.

The frustrating reality for me is I let the toasting creep up. I didn't notice the warning signs of growing irritability, anxiety flashes, emotional numbness, and protective withdrawal. I'm a counselor and can name that stuff  in others quickly, but sadly be utterly oblivious to the subtle changes wrapping my heart. I deeply believe in what God has called us to do in Northampton and gave 110%. Neither imagine/Northampton nor the Kingdom mission God has given needs or requires my 110%. For my part, it needs me to be submitted to Christ, and wise about how much I can give and how often, so as to stay the course for as long as he has me involved. Prematurely flaming out and toasting is just foolish and sinful.

So getting to be away here in Ventnor with Tricia, Dan and Lindsay and their beautiful family (including new baby granddaughter, Piper Rose) and later in the week, daughters Eslie and Alyn, is a balm and a sanctuary. I'm nobody recognizable here. I just get to be a 63 year-old husband, father and grandfather: walking on the boardwalk, being at the beach, swimming, having great meals together, sitting on the front porch under the awnings; walking at sun-up and/or sunset with Tricia, playing with my full-of-life grandchildren, hanging out with my kids, riding bikes, napping, reading, eating ice cream, and doing nothing is what I need right now. Grace abounds!

I do want the missional and creative juices flowing again, but with more sensibility, releasing and wisdom. I let me get ahead of myself (and Jesus I suspect) way too often. I will seek balance and rest to make sure I don't put myself in the toaster again. I want a long race, not a 220 ending with a blown Achille's tendon..

And my more artistic self needs to stumble again upon startling beauty all around me, touch the smoothed edges of perfect symmetry; smell the fresh breezes of  life made living by the Life waiting with the door ajar and the light on; taste the richest flavors of unsullied goodness; and be stopped in my sorry tracks by the poetry of illimitable hope.

I'll get there, but in a different way I suspect, than I've yielded to up to now.

imagine/Northampton's Newest Video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=c1oi8_ofplA

Check out our latest video describing who we are, what God is doing in our midst, and how people are being affected. Love to hear your thoughts!

Peace.

Two Hours With Ned.

I'll call him Ned. He has two other names: one given at birth and one he's given himself.

I've been around him for most of the time we've been here. He's on the street, but for periods of time he disappears. He looks to be in his mid-30's. He's a gentle soul which comes through most of the time. I wonder why he's on the street. For most, it's because of addiction and/or mental illness. For some of the youngest ones being on the street is a summer of "walking on the wild side," and being free from life's responsibilities for a while.

Anyhow, days ago, Ned was at  his usual place soliciting change with his cardboard sign (mandatory gear for the homeless in Northampton). As I normally do, I walked by and asked how he was. He mumbled something about being in a car accident. He has a bike and was hit on Pleasant Street a few days before. He showed me a swollen ankle. I asked him if he'd had it looked at. Ned said emphatically "no!" I'd later find out why.

Later that day, I was heading to a meeting in another town. Ned was still at his usual place. He didn't look good. I was in a bit in a hurry, but stopped. I asked if it was his ankle. He mumbled, looking down, "It hurts so f---ing bad." I said again he had to get to the hospital. He looked me directly and said," I HATE f---ing hospitals. They scare me." I said I understand, but "Your ankle might be fractured. It's not going to go away." He looked away and nodded his head. I told him I would take him to the hospital. He shook his head "no." Right then, two guys he seemed to know showed up and handed him a slice of pizza. I had to leave, but I repeated my offer. He wouldn't budge.

As I headed to the car, I prayed that if God wanted me to help him, he would create another encounter. I couldn't force the situation, but I've always felt a tug toward Ned. Perhaps he was a "son of peace," like Jesus refers to in Luke 10 when sending out the 72.

Well, the very next day, after I'd  gone to Hopkinton to fetch Tricia and meet our newest granddaughter, Piper Rose, we were heading from our car to the apartment to drop off Tricia's luggage and then grab a bite to eat in town. As we sometimes do, we decided to take the Kirkland Avenue shortcut. It's a dismal stretch of dumpsters, graffiti, discarded liquor bottles -- smelling of urine and garbage. It also feels spiritually dark. As we entered, I looked to my left, and there between two dumpsters was Ned. I knew this was the answer to yesterday's prayer. I also knew we had to help him. He was in excruciating pain, grimacing with the smallest of movements. He complained he could not stand on it at all. It was true. He couldn't. The pain was written on his face. He was hyperventilating also because of pain and fear. He'd say a number of times, holding up his hand, "Give me a minute," until both subsided. It was sad. He was sitting amidst the garbage as if he is discarded garbage too.

Both Tricia and I told him he had to go to the hospital to get his injury treated, and we'd take him. He have kept shaking his head "no" repeating he was afraid and hated hospitals. He added to it that he preferred to his entire foot cut off. He would repeat this "solution," even in the hospital. Ned looked and felt utterly miserable. We affirmed that he was afraid and felt alone, but we would go and stay with him until he got treated. Assuring him so calmed him and he agreed to go. We packed him and his backpack (1 of 2 possessions besides his clothes, the other being a decrepit bike), into the rear seat.

We dropped off Tricia's stuff and got crutches we'd kept since her fall on the stairs. Carefully, we were able to get him in the car. I could smell alcohol on his breath. I assumed it was his way of numbing the pain. I also knew he had a drinking problem from word on the street. They all know each others junk intimately, and are quite free to share it, almost with glee sometimes.

All the way to the hospital he apologized for inconveniencing us. He let us in on the fact he hates asking anyone for anything. Over and over, he'd also return to his preference of having them cut off his foot (problem solved in his mind), and that he really, really hated "f---ing hospitals."  He'd suffered serious burns on both legs 12 years before and was in hospital for over as month. Apparently, he'd had an earlier and equally traumatic stay before the burns incident. He truly was terrified about the prospect of going. We promised we'd walk through the entire ordeal with him. Again, he'd calm for a minute, then we'd go through the whole dialogue again.

The ride to Cooley Dickinson took just 10 minutes. We got him admitted with no glitch. I called imagine folks to get prayer going.When he got into an examination room his anxiety heightened; he was agitated, ripping off the ID bracelet they put on folks in the ER, complaining about everything. He'd go in and out of the fear. We kept praying silently and offering comfort. Soon he was whisked away to X Ray to assess the scope of the damage. He didn't like it, but a very patient and persistent X Ray Technician gradually got him to cooperate. We could hear her from outside the X Ray room.

It was only 10 minutes before the Doc came into his room with the good news that nothing was broken, but he had a bad sprain. A nurse came in with an ace bandage and a soft cast. She helped him put it on. She was gentle and resourceful. He made a big deal about "hating crutches," and would not use them, no way. We'd left ours in the car. She gently overcame his resistance. His choice was one crutch and one cane. Gradually, he calmed because this terrifying part of the ordeal was coming to an end. Soon we were out the door. He tried to do a wheelie with the wheelchair. I cut that short and got him in the car.

Driving back (he wanted to go to his home -- the space between the dumpsters), I mentioned the Doc said he could have over-the-counter painkillers. I told him we'd get them for him. He responded with an adamant "no." Ned looked me right in he eye and said, "I have my own painkiller." Then he looked away, repeating how hard it is to ask for anything, but soon blurted out, "I need five dollars for a pint." I told him we can't do that; it was a matter of conscience for us. He didn't press it, and apologized for asking.

Back at his "home" he was overwhelmed with gratitude. He said we were people "with big hearts,"; "we were now family." He called me a "father-figure," and hugged me for about a minute. I'd never hugged a homeless man before. He smelled terrible, but it felt a holy moment to me. I doubt he's hugged much. I told him his life mattered. I didn't know how he got where he was, but he was a person and it was our privilege to help him. I told him God cared and people were praying for him. He said he didn't believe in God, but was grateful for our kindness. He asked for my number because I told him I wanted to help sort through his life and see if he could get back on his feet. Earlier he told me he'd been a landscaper. Maybe he could do that again if he could deal with his stuff and find God in the process.

I realize the entire experience was full of God at his initiative. I know God is pursuing Ned. I'm sure the process of recovery would not be easy at all, but if he wants to try, I'm ready to help. God can and does do miracles

Amazing to me was God honored my prayer and we got to make a difference. Being with him for an hour or so gave me fresh insight into homeless people who are addicts. They're fiercely independent and expect little from others. They have been injured emotionally; fear and anger influence them profoundly. They've suffered loss, abandonment and dehumanization. Ned said he'd lost his father and brother and missed them terribly. He also let me know he responds when treated like someone who matters. His self-absorption is a survival skill, not cultivated arrogance and meanness. He has a heart and craves human connection.

People like Ned is one of the reasons imagine/Northampton is planted on Main Street. Helping him was another step toward serving Christ in people like him (Matthew 25:31-46). Jesus says those who follow him will do so. His Kingdom example has to be our Kingdom mission.

I didn't see Ned yesterday, but I hope to today. I hope he'll call me too.