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You have been telling people that this is the Eleventh Hour.
Now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour.
And there are things that need to be considered:
Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in right relation?
Where is your water?
Know your garden.
It is time to speak your truth.
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader.
This could be a good time!
There is a river flowing now very fast.
It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.
They will try to hold on to the shore.
They will feel they are being torn apart, and they will suffer greatly.
Know the river has a destination.
The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water.
See who is in there with you and celebrate!
At this time is history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves.
For the moment that we do, our spiritual health and journey comes to a halt.
The time of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves!
Banish the word struggle from your attitude and vocabulary.
All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration!
[Source: Elders of the Hopi Nation]
The imagery from this poem really spoke to me, as well as its questions. The similarity in what these Native American Elders were saying and what is emerging in our culture and church was striking. There are some that are leaving the dangers of clinging to the shore for the dangers of riding the river. Those who have let go of the shore indeed are finding others who are faith-traveling the river with them—they are not alone.
The two phrases (it was hard to choose, there were so many) that jumped off the page for me were these:
“All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration!”
” See who is in there with you and celebrate!”
The line I personally struggled with was this one:
“At this time is history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves.
What from the poem resonated with you? What did you struggle with or made you uncomfortable reading?
OK, so here is my vent. I fully realize that it is in our human nature to label and define and fragment just about everything into tidy boxes so we can then pass judgment, create an “in” and an “out”, an us and them. But just because I get it does not mean I like it. In fact, I even hate it when I see it surfacing in me. The fruit of such efforts usually creates a polarizing and dis-unifying “we’re good, you’re evil” mentality and “false” reality. It allows us to sit smugly back in our thrones casting everyone else into the shadows of our light. It REALLY makes me sick—and when I see it in myself, I feel sicker.
As one who appreciates and participates in the emerging dialogue and friendship, I often get labeled and boxed into a certain corner based on the label given me. As an example, there are a couple diagrams created by Michael Patton, which represent his certain opinion, floating around and generating quite a bit of buzz. Michael also posted 20 signs (and I get his humor, but behind it is a stab of denouncement) that you are moving from emerging to Emergent:
Top Twenty Signs you are moving from emerging to Emergent!
20. You only curse around fundamentalists.
19. You leave your church because the sermon was not obscure enough.
18. You refer to your local assembly as “church,” “synagogue,” or “mosque” depending on who you are talking to.
17. Your blog is a rant about how everyone else rants too much.
16. You brag that you have never been pinned down theologically on any issue.
15. The only thing you are sure of is that others cannot be sure of anything.
14. You bring your own wine to communion.
13. You are offended when someone says they are going to “Preach the Gospel” or “Teach the truth” believing they should just “Tell a story.”
12. Instead of a tract, you carry a can of Play-doh in you back pocket.
11. Your website links to Green Peace and the Democratic National Convention just because conservatives are against it.
10. You start a Christian blog, but leave it blank, fearing that you might offend someone.
9. You are not any good at art, yet you continue to present the Gospel by painting stick figures on recycled paper.
8. When you present the Gospel, Heaven is renamed The Matrix and you call Christ Neo.
7. Your church caters from Whole Foods.
6. Every sermon illustration begins with “The other night I was drinking a beer and . . .”
5. You have yet to read the book of Romans believing Paul was too modern in his thinking.
4. Your car has a bumper sticker that reads “I think my boss is a Jewish carpenter but I can’t know for certain.”
3. You don’t worship on Sundays because everyone else does.
2. You evaluate truth by asking how many people hold to it. If it is too popular, then it is wrong.
1. When someone calls out your name you get angry saying, “Don’t label me.”
I really do not see either the list or the diagrams as being helpful at all—quite the opposite. I have been reading through a book called Dialogue (by William Isaacs) and some of what he says really resonates with me about this whole inherent human need to label. What happens is we label something—give it a distinction, an image—and then we come to believe that these divisions are real, rather than simply our man-made boxings.
Isaacs notes that when a Syrian astronaut saw the earth from space the first time he said, ‘”From space I saw Earth—indescribably beautiful—with the scars of national boundaries gone.” The dividing lines disappear when you get enough perspective. The lines were made in the minds of human beings, in many cases drawn in the boardrooms of Europe and applied to places like Africa and South Asia. Yet now these lines have significant reality to them: Institutions have formed around them, identities are invested in them. The fragmentation on earth remains pervasive. [...] we make divisions like these all the time and then forget that WE have done so. [...] As a result, our social fabric is deeply fragmented. This fragmentation pervades the way human beings talk and think, in families, between friends, in business, in communities [politics, religion...]. It is a reflection of the divisive forces that we have inherited and usually take for granted [...] and so produces relationships based in the fiction of isolation. [...] Whatever image (or label) our minds make up is NOT the thing imagined. It is always both more and less.”
What Isaacs suggests next floored me with its complex-simplicity and possible beauty: That we might “practice the art of looking at something without needing to have a name in our heads for what we are looking at.” Imagine that? When we see something, or someone, or some movement, or—whatever—we resist the need to name it or label it. When we see a pregnant teenager with tatoos wearing all black we don’t label her, instead, we go deeper. We simply look at her and when a label comes to mind, we shuck it and keep looking until we see HER—as she really is—not a label. This enables us to view her and ourselves as participants of each other, instead of judges and labelers of each other. Empathy begins to surface. Then, perhaps, we might be at the place to begin a dialogue and friendship where we can really try to see them as God sees them, to love them as God loves them. We begin to see ourselves as participants with everything and everyone (with all of creation), acknowledging that we are really no different then the thing we are tempted to label.
So instead of asking and feeling the need to determine, “Where does this belong?” may we slow down and practice the art of looking at something without feeling the need to name it…whatever “it” is. Perhaps, like me, the labeling-alternative is making you sick. To that I suggest that perhaps from God’s perspective (which is more than enough) our labels and lines and fragmentations and names and boxes really don’t exist and they are simply images that we have created and worshiped…
Tree houses and the emerging church have a lot in common.
This is a picture of my son and the tree house we built—together. It stands about 7 feet off the ground and it began with a dream. You see, we have this very large tree in our suburban backyard that ached for a tree house. Every time my son and I looked at the tree, we saw how perfect it was for a tree house and would envision what it could look like. We dreamed together of a ladder, of a platform, of walls, of a roof. We pictured camping out in the tree house under the stars, of friends coming over and scurrying up into the tree house to do what boys do in tree houses, of guns being mounted, and curtains being drawn, and stories being told, and memories being built. But all we had was a tree and a dream.
Then one day we decided to get out the tape measure and begin to practically envision what a tree house in this particular tree would might look like. We took some measurements of the space in the tree. Then we measured Caleb’s old wooden platform bed and realized it would fit perfectly, with a few modifications. We went to the lumber store and picked up some rope, a few 4×4s, and some screws. We hoisted the platform up into the tree, placed the 4×4s, drilled some holes and cinched down the rope. After one full afternoon, we had our tree house base.
We dreamed some more. Put up some railings. Added a ladder and some steps. When his friends came over, the first thing they did is run to the tree house. Is it what we pictured? Kinda. But that is the beauty of it. It is becoming the dream over time. And over time, we are building the dream together, father and son.
In fact, this last weekend the sun decided to come out. We hadn’t added on to the tree house all winter, but the dream kept percolating for the right time and the time had come. We grabbed the old pulley system we got from Great-Grandpa’s garage and mounted one end on the tree and the other end to a bucket. Now Caleb could put his stuff in the bucket, climb into the tree fort and hoist his stuff up—pretty cool. We then went to the lumber store, picked up a few more 2×4s and began framing a roof.
After framing the roof, we sat up there and were talking about how not many kids have a tree house and how special this was. Caleb said that some of his friends had trampolines and swimming pools, but only he had a tree house. And it hit me…trampolines, pools, toys…these are all things you buy and install. But not this tree house…this is something that we are building together, one season at a time. It began with a tree. Then a dream. Then a platform. Then a ladder. Then a pulley. Then a roof-frame. Next a roof. Then some walls. Then some more dreaming. And through it all, our tree is being transformed into something more than a tree. Memories are being built as memories are being dreamed. We are doing it together as we dream.
If you were to ask me what our tree house was going to look like next year I couldn’t tell you. But come into our backyard next year and you can see for yourself. In the same way, if you were to ask me what the church was going to look like 25 years from now, I couldn’t tell you. But some of us our dreaming together. Some of us are looking into the backyard seeing what could be built. Some of us are taking measurements. Some of us are talking about possibilities. Some of us are dreaming of memories to be had and stories to be told. And right now, we are not quite sure what it will look like. We are simple looking at the particular tree in our particular backyard and dreaming with our father what his church might look like built there.
So we dream and as we dream we build and as we build we dream some more, together—as friends, and brothers, and sisters—in community. We are creating something that previously did not exist. Something that we will build together, with our dad, for all of us to enjoy.
What will it look like in 25 years? Don’t know. Right now all we have is a tree and a dream. But we invite you to come and be a part of its creation, or at the very least come back in 25 years and see how the dream evolved. I hope you choose the first option, pick up a tape measure and hammer, and let’s dream-build together. Let’s dream of guns being put away, of dividing curtains being opened, of stories being told, of memories being built, of lives and relationships being restored. Perhaps, in the end, we will have built a place where friends come over to do what we are supposed to be doing, joining God in the healing restoration of his kids.
I am looking forward to the memories!
“There is a very good reason why it’s difficult to pin the Emerging Church down on certain issues. Simply put, the Emerging Church is an evolving movement, a fluid conversation. …
The EC’s slippery nature, as some might put it, also hints at its postmodern beginnings…..Conversation is good. That’s the way many in the EC see things. The EC crowd is not nervous when grey areas linger. Mystery is newly embraced in the EC. And this shift away from a blind emphasis on propositional truth seems, to me anyway, much more in line with early Christian faith and practice.
Faith is a process. The Christian experience is a journey. We would do well to remember that for the early followers of Christ, faith was commonly referred to as “the Way”- not the destination…”
- Darren King, chief editor of Precipice Magazine
Piggy backing a little on what Jonathan Brink dreamed, I envision three aspects also being redeemed in Tribe. All three help combat our felt-need for religious control:
Baptism: When someone believes and recognizes the forgiveness they have in Jesus, the entire community gathers down at the river to witness and celebrate in baptism. It is not a pastor who baptizes them, but rather it is their Tribe of 10-12 brothers or sisters that are in the water with them. The person shares their story and what Jesus and the community means to them. Their Tribe then immerses them into the water with the rest of the community witnessing and celebrating alongside them. Baptism becomes an event in the life of the community. We also would not control or demand someone be re-baptized because they were baptized as an infant or sprinkled. If they want to and that is how the Spirit is leading them, fine. If not, fine.
Communion: Modeling the heart and “table” ministry of Jesus, all are welcome to partake in Jesus’ meal…and yes, I mean meal. Communion will not consist of a wafer and some juice, but is a meal shared by the community with the bread and wine being a part of the meal. As an expression of God grace to all, all are invited and welcomed, regardless of belief, to share in the Eurcharist. It will be Open Communion in practice, not just name only; God’s grace and table fellowship extended to all sinners, not just the ones who “get it”.
The Tithe: With a goal of 80% of the community funds going towards needs in the Tribe, the surrounding community and other justice/love issues/projects, we seek to restore a Godly and proper view of stewardship. Early on when the 10% “rule” was established, it was intended to go towards helping restore justice and feed and take care of the poor. Farmers were to leave a portion of their crops un-harvested so the poor could be fed. A year of Jubilee was to be celebrated with debts forgiven and land given back to the original owners. I believe even the provision of the priests by the people was an act of justice. Imagine if the organizational structure was lean and was created in such a way where 20% of giving would go towards operating costs and 80% would be given away and/or set aside for “loving on people”. If people know that 80% of their financial gifts are being used to care for and look after the needs of others, and that they also have the freedom to use their tithe at their own discretion for God’s kingdom in their lives, not being pounded by their church that they are commanded by God to give 10% to the church, and anything else they want to do for God’s Kingdom is “above-and-beyond” their normal tithe, then I believe that the stronghold of money will be broken and a more generous community will be realized. I also believe that the surrounding community will take notice and praise their father in heaven because, “Oh, how those Christians love and give.”
A good friend of mine sat down across from me as we sipped a great cup of coffee. We love getting together and just talking Jesus, life, family, soccer (our boys both play) and everything in between. This particular conversation steered in the direction of a friend of his who wants nothing to do with God, religion, or the church, much less Jesus. As we talked, a picture came to my mind of why she doesn’t even entertain the notion of, much less a relationship with, Jesus. The picture formed around the old saying, “Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water.” I fear this is the case for some. It was with her.
She saw this disgusting bath tub, filled to the brim with water, saturated in green mold and slime and algae. Somewhere beneath the surface was something beautiful, loving and brimming with life, but it could not be seen through the rancid water. And so, like any normal person, she steers clear of the tub. All the while, people are telling her that if she jumps in, her life will be changed…”No way in hell,” she thinks.
Together, in conversation, we mulled over this image. As we did, it began to take shape. If the baby represented Jesus and the murky water represented all the real or “perceived” filth of the church as religion, then perhaps our job was to slowly begin to remove Jesus from the water, gently clean the slime off him and allow her to see him, as he really was, in all his beauty and love and grace––apart from the tub. That once he was removed from the filth, she could, for the first time, see him and not just the filthy water that was hiding him––worse, defiling him.
Once Jesus was appropriately removed, we could now turn our attention to naming the slime, pointing it out, showing how different it was from Jesus. And what if, rather than stopping there, we turned on the facet, brought fresh water into the tub, rolled up our sleeves to began cleaning the filth from the tub, allowing it to shine once more. Then, perhaps then, the baby and the tub could be rejoined in her mind and she could begin to love both Jesus and his church.
I think part of the reason why people are afraid and disgusted with the church is because we keep pointing to a filthy tub and trying to get them to jump in, where, once in, they will be able to “find” Jesus. A lot of people are saying no, and yet are still desperately looking for Jesus. Let’s be real with them. Let’s show them Jesus. Let’s show them how he is so different than the murky water we tossed him into. Let’s clean him off and allow them to fall in love with him. Then let’s create a community of Jesus-loving lovers, where he can be seen clearly through our water instead of trying to persuade and convince and market people to jump headlong into pond-scum, hoping they might stumble into Jesus in the process.
May our lives and friendships be the clear water where Jesus can be seen and known. Who knows, perhaps then, my friend’s friend (and so many like her) will stop throwing Jesus out with the bath water, like she is now.
Tom Brokaw, ABC Nightly News, reported on the emerging church movement…unfortunately there is a focus on politics and the “elders” opposition, but is an interesting video none-the-less…
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