The power does not lie in the formula; the power lies in following.

When I look back at and see those people, churches, and ideas that really had the power and energy of God behind them, I see a common thread: a person or group of people were following Jesus’ lead within their specific context and time, the result of which ended up looking quite different than what others were doing. They really wrestled with and answered the questions, Where are we seeing Jesus around us? and, Where and to what is he leading us? They weren’t following a formula of success, they were following Jesus.

And then a funny and ironic thing happens. People see their success and clamor for the “secret” formula of which they are willing to travel great distances and pay lots of money to get it. Instead of asking, What is Jesus doing here and how is he asking us to participate?, they ask, What is Jesus doing over there and how can I bottle and duplicate it? We see this happening all over the place, don’t we. But Jesus isn’t interested in making clones, he is interested in creating new life.

But following Jesus rather than a formula causes our fears to surface. Our thoughts betray us: It’s unknown. What if it fails? There’s no proven track record. Will it be successful? How do I do it? What if God leads me to where I do not want to go or do? What if I loose my position or job? Will others follow as well or will I be alone? Perhaps I’ll misread God’s leading . . . and on and on our fears bob to the surface. Yet when we follow Jesus he has a way of loosening our fears and freeing us from them as well.

So I offer that the power lies in following Jesus’ lead in our lives and communities. It does lie not in a formula created by others regardless how successful it may seem to be. But which is easier, personally following Jesus or applying a formula? We all know the answer to that, don’t we. Hence the pervasiveness of formula marketing and purchasing. But which is better, formula or following Jesus? We know that answer too.

I pray that the hope and possible fruit of “answer two” begins to outweigh the temptation of “answer one”. When it does, I believe it is then that great power, creative energy and influence will be unleashed.

Lord, grant us the courage to follow you regardless the cost.

I rarely simply quote someone and leave it at that. I always like to add my two-cents thinking that my insight will make it better (as if). But tonight when I read this paragraph, it summarized exactly what we are experiencing in real-time here in Folsom within a small group of friends. So here it is:

“In the exodus from Egypt to the Babylonian captivity, the Israelites were most awake to the Maker in times of journey and instability . . . Pilgrims always have a lot to talk about. There are stories to tell, advice to exchange, and plans to make about the best way to reach the next vista. Revolutions are often planned in cafes and begin with talks among friends. Great social and spiritual movements germinate when a few isolated people find one another, share deeply, and dream out loud about a different and better future. Through generative friendship a collective voice becomes stronger, and what was once timidly whispered in private emerges to become the topic of public discourse and reform. Dialogue creates resonance that fosters grass-roots energy and initiative. Conversation at its best is never just talk; it is the means by which we kindle imagination and gain the courage to take action together.” (Re-read that last line).

As McDonald’s says, I’m Lovin’ It!

[Source: Soul Graffiti by Mark Scandrette, pg 46-47]

I have not seen Jen (my wife) this mad in a long time. She was sooooo angry at me last night! And the thing is, I fully deserved it. Here’s the story…

Jen meets with a group of women every Monday night and it has been the deepest, most rewarding experience she has had in a group. She loves it. Now within this group, there are certain commitments you make, one of which is to be on time to group. And this group takes that commitment very seriously. Beyond that, Jen loves it so much that she makes sure she is there early every week to share in the pre-fellowship.

So last night, I got a phone call from a friend last minute and he need to show me something really quick. Jen needed to leave for her group and so I promised her I would not make her late and that I’d back in a few minutes. I grabbed my son, Caleb, left Ashlyn (our two-year-old daughter) with her and we hopped in the Jeep to go see what my friend wanted to show me.

At least that is what Jen thought. I lied to her.

What Caleb and I were really doing was going to Target to waste time and make Jennifer late to her group. She is 8.75 months pregnant and her group wanted to throw her a surprise baby shower and asked me to make her late. An unfortunate side-effect was that she was going to get very, very angry at me, her hubby. Here is the minute by minute breakdown of what happened. As you read it, keep in mind that her group begins at 6:30 and it takes 15-20 minutes to drive there.

6:05 - Dave calls me as planned and I pretend it is Len, a good friend of mine I have not seen in a while.

6:08 - I lie to her saying we are going to our old church, but Caleb and I leave and go to Target instead.

6:15 - Caleb wander around Target and I are fully expecting a phone call from an angry wife, but nothing yet…we are laughing!!

6:19 - My cell phone rings…it is Jen. I ignore it!!! Oh man, I’m in trouble now. We laugh even harder.

6:25 - We purchase two baby onesies, head to the Jeep and I call Jen to let her know I am sorry and we are on our way home. She says that she is on the way to the church (where we are NOT at) to drop off Ashlyn! Noooo! I tell her that I already left and for her to just meet me at the house. She is flaming mad by this point (and if you knew her, you would know how rarely she gets mad). She says no and pulls off to the side of the road and tells me to find her. Problem. I am coming from the wrong direction to be coming from the church.

6:27 - I finally find her, she hops out of the van yanking poor Ashlyn out, storms across the street (and I am trying not to crack a smile or laugh), tosses Ashyln into my arms, making sure not to look at me because she might haul off and hit me, turns and drives off. Caleb and I are cracking up!! Ahslyn is just really confused.

6:28 - I call Jen to falsely apologize and wallow and advise her not to let this ruin her evening; she is mad, but getting better.

6:43 - Jen calls my cell phone and calls me a brat and is laughing her butt off because she just got the snot surprised out of her by her friends and is being blessed.

11:25 - Jen comes home, I show her the gifts Caleb and I bought Scout (our soon to be born baby) and laughed together as we relived the evening’s series-of-unfortunate-fortunate-events.

(By the way Linda, you owe me! Big time!  And Dave, thanks for the fake “phone call”)

Jen, I love you babe. Let’s have that baby, shall we?

You got to love Peet’s Coffee. Not only is it way better than a certain Seattle-originated coffee place (I made a commitment not to slander on my blog) but it is also where God brought together a few unlikely people.

Jonathan Brink and I went to college together way back in the day (1993) and went our separate ways only to randomly meet up in a local Peet’s coffee where we realized that God had been speaking similar things to both our hearts. That was a little over a year ago and the rest has been history. Our families have become great friends. Then another friend of our, John Holmes, begins the conversation and recommends that a friend of his, Dave, meets with Jonathan. So Dave and Jonathan meet in a, you guessed it, Peet’s Coffee, where Jonathan suggests that Dave join a new Thrive group that begins the following Tuesday. Lo and behold, it is the same Thrive group I was involved in and when Dave walked in, him and I sensed an immediate connection (though he has a tattoo and I don’t…though that might be changing). Shortly thereafter, we had him and his now wife, Linda, over to our house for dinner and the rest is history (Jen, Linda and Christine [Jonathan's wife] are also part of the same Thrive group as each other). Since then we have shared many BBQ’s, meals, beers, wine, stories, tears, laughter, deep-thoughts, soul searching, ahh-hah moments and just plain ol’ fun times together as couples and families.

But in the midst of all that, God was weaving his dream in our hearts. And then he brought others into the dreaming: Tim, Kelly, and our wives, Jen, Christine, and Linda. Together we wrestle and think. We feel fear. We feel excitement. We feel a sense of togetherness. We feel free to disagree. We feel alive. We feel free to express anything to anyone without fear of judgment. We feel safe. We feel like we really like each other, enjoy each other, and love hanging out and being the church of Christ. 4-hours together feels like 30 minutes and we always have a sense of joy and sadness when we part, thankful to have shared time together but sad that it has to end and we have to go to work . We dream together and each other’s words feed our souls and stimulate thought. We are feeding off a dream that is developing more and more each time we hang out together. (You can read more about the dream here, here, and here). As we dream together we are finding new life and energy for ministry and the the love of God.

I truly wish each and every one of you could be apart of this group that God has brought together. In some ways, you are. Your words and spirit are a part of us in ways you may never know. But the cool thing is this: God has a dream for you to follow in community with those around you. This is God’s dream that God is fleshing out in our community. And the question that begs to be asked is, What is God’s dream that is being fleshed out (or wanting to be fleshed out) in your community? See, I think it is less about, What is God doing over there so we can imitate it? and more about, What is God doing right here so we can join Him?

So I dare you to listen to God’s dream. And when it finds you, have the courage to join in…regardless the cost! But I warn you, though at times it might feel as if you are losing your life and faith, you are actually finding it.

By the way, please remember to share your journey with us so we can be mutually encouraged that God indeed is at work in reconciling all creation, all men (and women), and all things to himself. Because after all, Christ is all and is in all.

Blessings!!

No matter what you name your baby, it becomes their name. It becomes normal and a huge part of their identity, no matter how bizarre. Step back into your own personal time-and-space-continuum and recall some weird names of people you knew growing up. I knew a guy who was the star running back on our HS football team and his name was Shannon. My dad’s name is Dick Johnson and his friends would call him “little Dicky”. [stop it!] I have a nephew whose name is Storm Justice (and I love it!). Have you recalled any you know? Please share…

So with our little baby girl about a week away from being born, we have her name basically decided on and half our family likes it and half doesn’t. Regardless, it’s our kid so we get to name it whatever we want. If you don’t like it, make a baby of your own and name it whatever you want. Some are insisting that if we continue on our reckless name-decision they will call her by her middle name and not by her first. For those family members, I will return the favor!

Let me share with you her name (derived from the classic piece of literature and the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird, and not from a certain celebrity’s child, mind you):

Scout Savannah Johnson

Your thoughts? Let’s have fun with it…

[Note: it may be helpful to read this out loud or in a whisper as it is more stream-of-thought]

So here it is God, Friday evening and my spirit seems deeply burdened. I’m not sure why. The blog name, A Carnival in My Head, comes to mind as a close descriptor of what I am feeling. Round and round the music of Your love and grace goes, spiraling around in my mind, rhythmically pounding: “This is too good to be true, this is too good to be true.” Yet my spirit senses deep within a voice that whispers, that resonates, that caresses Your love like a newborn infant, saying, “I knew You were this good, I knew my Daddy was like this.” And back and forth, round and round, tugging and pulling these voices dance, spar, engage. Fatherly thoughts simultaneously clash against and speak to Your love. My 2 ½ year-old daughter being abducted and tossed into the child-sex ring…her image, spirit, body being molested by deranged men. The anger. The rage. The pain. The disgust I feel as a father at the thought. How could You love such beasts? How could You, Papa, embrace such filth? How could You forgive such creatures? My daughter—with them!—in the foulest of ways. They must be punished, killed, torn apart! They must feel the pain my daughter felt, have their dignity ripped from them as they did my daughter’s, be scarred forever as my daughter is. And then I look at those men as if I were their father. Seeing my hurting boy, whose dignity is no more, whose ability for love is smoldering, whose image, spirit, and body has been self-molested for years. Whose pain and wounding run so deep that I hardly recognize him as the three-year-old I once held in my lap, the 8-year-old I once played baseball with, the teenager I once taught to drive. He is a shell of the creature You crafted, yet he still bears Your image—dim all be it, but it is there…the image of You. And oh how I long to embrace him, heal him, restore him and remind him he’s loved. And yet he’s distant, alone—he thinks—in his pain. Fatherly thoughts seem to simultaneously clash against and speak to Your love, God. And sometimes it just feels like a mess, and sometimes it just feels so beautiful, this love of Your’s. I look at my daughter being hurt and I look at my son causing the pain and I rush in to rescue my daughter from her pain all the while longing to rescue my son from his. I step between the two of them seeking to prevent my daughter from being wounded and look into my son’s eyes and see his wounds. I violently lash out, throwing my son off my daughter and embrace her while seeing the tears of my son disclosing his desire to be embraced as well. I pin my son down with my fist clenched above his face ready to strike a blow when my daughter grabs my arm, graciously holding me back and reminding me of . . . love. I see the wounds in both my children. And I love them. How can I not? They bear my image and I shared in their creation. Is it the same with You? Is this how You feel? Is it more of a father-child relational thing than a judicial-transactional thing for You? Is this love perhaps the kind that can heal and restore both the victim and the perpetrator, who happen to both bear Your image and whom You created? I don’t know…and yet I do…then again, I don’t. And so the music of Your love and grace goes, spiraling around in my mind, rhythmically pounding, “This is too good to be true, this is too good to be true.” Perhaps it is. If it is true, the oxymoron of a beautiful mess also rings true. A beautiful mess . . . a beautiful mess . . . a beautiful mess, love is.

“Those aren’t tadpoles!!”

(There is a story to this, but you’ll have to request an email from me to hear it.  As hard as it may be to believe, I do have my limits of what I will post!  Tracy, it has nothing to do with Speedos, so rest assured).

Some in the church think God is at work only in (or through) the church and asks the world to join it, all the while God is at work in the world asking His church to join Him.

…above.

And in the left column, you’ll see a new image to click on.

(by the way, if you’d like to add it—the image-hyperlink “What if the Church was Invisible“—to your blog or website, let me know and I can email you the HTML).

A few weekends ago we drove to the Bay Area for my wife’s family reunion. My brother-in-law, Dave, pastors a church in San Jose and so on Sunday we thought it would be a great chance to hear him speak and see his church. Well, as it would turn out, Dave was taking a break from the pulpit. We were bummed that we weren’t able to hear him. After the service we went outside and I saw two men sitting on the curb talking; one of them was obviously homeless. It warmed my heart to see him there and that someone from the church was taking the time to talk with him. But as I learned the story behind the man, my joy ran even deeper…

You see, the church had been talking to the city officials trying to build better partnership. The city said they would love to support the church more if the church committed to helping in three areas: the environment, the ??, and the homeless. The church agreed. During a meeting where the city officials came to the church to discuss the issues, they came to the topic of homelessness and were struggling to find practical and real ways to help. Just then a man entered the church and interrupted their meeting. He was homeless. Dave went out to talk with him.

The man began telling Dave how he started a garden where the other homeless people could come to help cultivate it and eat from their fruits. He continued to say how he was running into problems because the garden was on land that the Water District owned and they wanted him and his garden off of their property. Dave smiled and asked the man if he believed in miracles. He told him that in the meeting he had interrupted were city officials and church leadership wrestling with how to help the homeless in the city. The man was thrilled and began to discuss the notion of using some of the church’s “back-lot” for a garden. Dave said that would be a great idea and asked if the man would be willing to share his story to those in the other room. He did and Jesus smiled.

Fast forward a few days. Dave went to a little deli that he rarely goes to and sure enough, the homeless man was there. Dave asked him if he would join him for lunch. The man declined at first saying that he wasn’t hungry. Dave insisted and the man joined him for conversation but not a meal…he really wasn’t hungry. The man mentioned that what he really needed was a tarp. So Dave walked over to OSH with him and they bought a tarp. When they were leaving the man asked if he could keep the receipt because the police come by and if you have anything that looks new they ask for a receipt to make sure you didn’t steal it. If you don’t have a receipt, they take the “new” item away. Dave paused a minute and came to the place of trust and gave the man a receipt.

Fast forward a few days. The man came back to the church and told Dave that another person bought him a tarp and that he returned the tarp that Dave bought with him. He said that he should expect a refund on his credit card within a few days. Talk about stereotypes being shattered!

Right now they are in the process of figuring out the logistics for the church-homeless garden (they are located next to an elementary school so they have to see if they would be comfortable having homeless men and women hanging around while the kids were in school, etc). I love seeing churches rise above their needs to join Jesus in his mission of restoration. This is just one example I thought I’d share…