This is a photo I took today of my son Joshua snowkiting on the river in front of our house. Man it was cold! The wind was biting. But I got some good photographs with my Nikon P5000. Sometimes it is helpful to just get outside and enjoy it. It’s a great stress-reliever. All my concerns, including my anxieties over the church, slip away. At least for a while.
This is what greeted me first thing in the morning. This is the river that flows in front of our house. Right now it is flowing under a couple of feet of ice. The moon was setting. It was 12 below 0 C (10F). I was in my housecoat and slippers at the end of my driveway. But I captured the view that inspires many of my paintings, as some of you already know. You can still buy some of my paintings that I’m purging from my inventory at sale prices HERE. Thanks!
We had Rik and Zara Leaf with their two kids with us for a week. They just left today. Rik took the entire Sunday morning, playing his songs and talking in between. It was a refreshing time. There was no preaching of any kind. He told stories and talked about their own experiences. His mixture of music, poetry and story-telling had a powerful impact on our community.
He lost his father this last year and he shared that with us. That afternoon I went home and wrote a letter to my own dad. This last summer when we visited I told him some of what was going on in my life. I was afraid that he might be disappointed in me because I have a history of being a shit-disturber and rocking the boat, perpetually self-sabotaging my own success. Rather than express disappointment, he was totally supportive. I wanted to tell him how much that meant to me. I closed the letter with my love, saying: “I wanted to tell you this rather than wishing I had.”
We underestimate the power of the arts. Even Jesus told stories and did things as his main mode of communication. I don’t think he was a preacher. I remember this last summer reading Cormac McCarthy’s book The Road. Now, I’ve watched all the documentaries and read science books and magazines and pamphlets warning me about our impact on the environment, but to no avail, even though I cognitively understood the problem. After I read The Road I became not only interested in but more passionate about radically decreasing the size of my own footprint on the environment. It literally transformed my mind and my behavior as a result.
I remember listening to the Estonian composer Arvo Pärt’s cd, Te Deum, and being overwhelmed with the universe being full of Glory and that all is loved.
I remember seeing the French artist Luc-Olivier Merson’s work, Rest on the Flight to Egypt (view it here), and being transformed to understand that the good news isn’t just for everybody, but includes everybody.
That’s why, when I say I am an artist trapped in a pastor’s body, it isn’t a bad thing. I am creative, and my creativity doesn’t just find expression in my paintings, my cartoons, my music or my sculptures, but in everything I do, including my relationships and the way I pastor a community. Rik affirmed that to me this weekend when he said that our community is like nothing he’s ever seen or experienced, and he thinks it is beautiful. That’s because we are trying to be creative instead of copycats.
The photo was taken this morning out my backdoor. Do you see the young buck bedded down in our shrubs?
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Have you heard the joke about the man who came to church for the first time? She was a beautiful church, and he became very attracted to her. She had everything he was looking for. They started seeing each other on a regular basis. After a while, he and the church decided to consummate their relationship. One night the man stripped down to his bare necessities and waited for the church to join him. He watched with excitement as she undressed in front of him. First, she took off her refined music and put it away in the drawer. Then, she took off its various small group meetings and put them away in the drawer too. Then, she took off her motivational messages and put them in the drawer. She even took off her mission statement and statement of faith and put them in the drawer. He looked in amazement as she continued. She took off her coffee and cookies and put them in the drawer. Then she took off her public image of success and influence and put that in the drawer. Finally, she took off her fine building and accessories and put them in the drawer. There she stood, naked before him, very plain and ordinary. He looked at her. He looked at the drawer. Then he said, “I don’t know whether to stay here or get in that drawer!”
When new people come to our community, I always feel it is like dating. Let’s admit it: they’re shopping. I have to acknowledge that we are on trial. It is so tempting to try to control our image. It is so tempting to worry about what if one of my people swears in frustration in homegroup… which sometimes happens. What if they discover that everybody in my homegroup is have been divorced except me? What if they find out many of us drink and some of us smoke? It is so tempting to put our best face forward. But I resist those temptations as much as possible. They might as well find out sooner than later what we are like. And I say “we”, because it is about the people. If they don’t like the music or the teaching style or whatever, there’s nothing that can be done about that. It’s finally about us. Will they quickly discover that this is about friendship, relationship and community rather than all the extras? Will they discover that they can love and be loved here before the details of how we do things is discerned or before they discover the diversity of belief and lifestyle that is represented here? Will they recognize, ultimately, that this is a place where they can be free to discover their own faith and explore how to live it uniquely before God in this world?
The fine art photograph is taken by my friend Mark Hemmings.
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Once in a while someone will send me a link to a YouTube video of some church service where people are worshiping in a crazy fashion. I never find them funny or even true. I mean, sure… we’re looking at people spinning and falling and raising their hands and dancing and singing. But it’s not true! The point of the videos is usually to mock these people, to expose them and their foolishness, and to embarrass them. My first impression is always embarrassment. Not for them. Me.
I love charismatic worship. I do it. And I wouldn’t want it taped. It would be embarrassing. All it would do is give people a snap-shot of my life that to most would look really silly, superficial and sentimental. I think of David who danced naked before the Lord. I haven’t danced naked… well, not in public anyway… but I have danced. And like David, it is usually undignified, and would look even more undignified on video.
I believe in freedom of expression when it comes to worship. I don’t think it can or should be legislated. People must be free to express their joy or sorrow or respect or whatever in whatever fashion they choose. Of course, the community helps us understand what is appropriate and what isn’t, what offends and what doesn’t. I remember years ago there was a woman worshiping who looked like she was having sex with the floor. We gently helped her stop that. Children were watching.
When we are worshiping with all of our being, including our emotions and bodies, it may very well look undignified. It’s deeply intimate. So, I think it’s immature to record and distribute this stuff in order to denigrate someone. It would be like watching real people (not movie or porn stars) having sex. There’s something voyeuristic and even unsightly about it. I think it’s totally legitimate and necessary to critique ideas and the things we do. But when it comes to critiquing worship, that’s ground that I dare not tread upon. It’s too personal. It’s too sacred.
The fine art photograph is the creation of my friend Howard Nowlan.
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I love diversity in community. The more diverse the better. In fact, I believe that if we were all open and honest, we would discover that underneath our superficially thin layer of homogeneity lies dormant a wide and wonderful diversity. It was like when I came to this community years ago. Nobody drank. That was understood. But when we were visiting people they would pull beer or wine hiding in their fridge’s crispers wrapped in paper bags.
So, my work isn’t to try to build a diverse community, but dealing with the one I already have, to encourage its diverse demonstration. That is, I try to stimulate an environment where people think independently, feel honestly, express uniquely, live authentically, and are loved unconditionally. I begin with myself.
It never ends. The pressure to divide into smaller sovereign clumps of people is insidiously persistent. The gravitational pull is always toward provincialism. The necessary work of encouraging differing people to dwell together in peace and with compassion is incessant. I love the work though. And I love to see it working, in spite of all the opposition. When Paul said that we are all members one of another, I don’t believe he was just talking narrowly about the church, but about all things… people and people, people and the earth, people and all creatures. A reconciliation of all things has been accomplished and there is a supreme unity that, in spite of our blindness and resistance, begs to be kept.
The fine art photograph is the creation of my friend Mark Hemmings, and is a photo of Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo, Japan. Imagine all the people living life in peace!
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It’s not easy as the visible overseer of a community to subject yourself to criticism. Last Sunday I invited people to please speak their minds without fear of repercussion. I even told the people that if at the end of the month they decide it’s time to trade me in for a better model, then I’d resign. If March is the month of discovery for us, then we need to get everything out and on the table. So, I’ve been receiving criticism… criticism for the way I’ve done things, for my style, for my preferences, weaknesses and so on. I’ve been receiving affirmation too. But somehow that tends to get drowned out by the criticism. In fact, most the time the affirmations are embedded in ways I can do the good things I do even better, which sometimes sounds like criticism… like saying, “You look great! Imagine if you lost 10 more pounds!” You get my drift.
But I must confess that I’ve discovered that there’s something liberating in open analysis. When a safe environment is provided for people to express their views, even if dissenting, they have a sense of liberation and involvement. Their place in the community has meaning. But it’s been surprisingly liberating for me too. Today, while I was having a meaningful and sometimes difficult conversation with a member of our community about serious issues concerning the community, I realized that I was okay with it. I realized that somehow the burden of the community wasn’t all mine, but shared by all those concerned. I realize, as the one supported by the community to prioritize care for the community above all else, that open dissent can be a healthy thing. This is not to say that one leads by majority opinion or consensus, but that somehow the spirit of the community is discernible by the community and the community participates in the overall health of itself. Perhaps strong leadership encourages this to happen. Perhaps strong leadership isn’t autocratic rule, even with the endorsement of the people, but round-table oversight. My expertise, educationally and experientially, is engaged in gently but firmly cultivating a community that is healthy… a community that does justice, loves mercy, and walks humbly. Believe me, this isn’t to say I’ll enjoy criticism. But I do know that it is a necessary ingredient in a healthy relationship, including community.
The photograph is the creation of my friend Mark Hemmings. The cactus symbolize for me the prickliness of criticism. Nevertheless they are beautiful, alive and an integral member of desert life.
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I met with a good friend today who is a member of our community. I was sharing with her what I was feeling these days with people who’ve left, who’ve decreased their level of support, and who’ve pulled back in some way or another. I told her I find it hard to be optimistic in the face of such loss. It doesn’t seem to matter how hard I try or work, it’s like I’m carrying a leaky pail.
She admitted to me that she would like to be a part of a success story just once. All the effort that goes into doing the things we do at the grassroots level is just that: grassroots. It’s meaningful, but small. There’s no wave of people coming. There’s no fanfare. No recognition. There’s no measurable gain that we can enjoy. Although everything we do we do with a clear conscience, certain that we are to be who we are and doing what we do, there’s never any marked victory. Sure, we sold land and paid off our debt. But this doesn’t measure the health or success of our community. In fact, it could very well affect it adversely. But I know what she means. I’ve often wondered why, in spite of our constant efforts to be and do good, there’s no profitable gain from it. I want to be a part of a success story too. I would love to be presently rewarded. But no. We aren’t and I’m not sure we ever will be.
(Pull the camera back for wide-angle shot): This very desire… to be a part of a success story… is the problem! It blinds us to the present. It pollutes our thoughts and actions with ambitious desires for a lofty goal, the fulfillment of our visions and dreams that have been fabricated in our discontented hearts. It also blinds us to the subtle rewards we do enjoy that can’t be calculated. Are we content to be and do good and leave the results up to the Other? We can plant. We can water. We can tend. But the increase is a gift.
The fine art photograph is the creation of my friend Mark Hemmings, of Shinjuku Park, Tokyo, Japan. It captures a barren tree in winter. Who knows what spring will bring?
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It’s one thing to trust God. It’s another to trust how things are going to work out. I don’t equate the two. I would argue from all view points (theological, philosophical, biblical, etc.) and from experience that to trust one is to not trust the other. They are mutually exclusive.
Our community has recently paid off its mortgage. For the first time in years there’s no financial emergency. We have money. However, this does not necessarily mean that everything is going to be fine now. It doesn’t mean that God is now on our side and that we are necessarily going to succeed. Our community continues to shrink. Key supporters have left and others have stopped supporting. I have no explanation for it. I think we are doing everything we should do. I’m not sure we are doing everything we can do. We’re going to spend the month of March in reflection, gathering our thoughts and trying to discern what is going on with as much honesty as we can muster .
I’ve been having some disturbing dreams lately. I wake up crying sometimes. In my dreams I am asking the men who’ve left to come back. My friends. But they don’t answer. I beg them with tears. It is so tragic, and I wonder just how responsible I am for them leaving. On the one hand, it is an incredibly sad tale of rejection and grief. On the other hand it just seems pathetic of me to be begging. But I miss them all. I want them to come back. They know it. But they don’t return.
And more key people are getting picked off one by one. Some are telling me that they have to cut back in their giving or stop altogether. These are tough economic times and many people aren’t even able to pay their basic bills. Lisa and I included! I know intimately what they are going through! But aside from that: what does this all mean for our community? I cannot predict the future. I wish I could! That’s the concept behind the cartoon this morning. I don’t think it’s possible to know. Oh, I know some people might predict, prophesy and presume, but in my opinion it’s all guess work. Some would like me to believe that if I just trust then everything is going to work out in our favor. Don’t believe it. I trust him and submit to his hand, whatever it brings. And I have no idea what it’s bringing. I hope it is good. But there’s no guarantee. I’m stuck in Job’s proclamation: Though he slay me, yet will I trust him. I love our community. It is beautiful. But like Paul said: to some we are the fragrance of life. To others we are the fragrance of death. I realize how brutal this sounds, but although I hope in him, death always seems to be crouching at our door, and I can’t shake it.
The fine art photograph is the creation of my friend Jorgen Klausen. It pictures the juxtaposition of beauty and the threat death.
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I’ve been doing a little bit of reading on the controversial Bishop Pike of California (1913-1969). I had done some research, then found an old copy of William Stringfellow and Anthony Towne, The Death and Life of Bishop Pike, a strange journey through Pike’s marriages, his struggles with the Anglican Church, his heresy trials, his preoccupation with the origins of Christianity and the historical Jesus, the suicide of his son James and his subsequent obsession with the occult as he tried to communicate with his deceased son. His life ended tragically when he got lost and perished in the brutal wilderness of Israel, approximately where it is believed Jesus suffered his temptations.
I want to share with you two quotes from Stringfellow and Towne’s book that caught my attention. The first one is a motto that Pike crafted:
“Less beliefs; more belief!”
The other one is:
The sermon itself was a moving recapitulation of his quest for that which could be conscientiously believed by twentieth-century Christians.
There is much today in modern Christianity which simply cannot be believed by many twenty-first century people. Science alone legitimately challenges many preciously held notions. Recently I spoke with a good friend who has left the church and Christianity because he was reading science, agreed with some conclusions, and automatically felt alienated from his beliefs. He felt, and often this is true, that he had a choice: science or faith. Or rather, he felt the church was forcing this choice upon him. Although it would be fair to say that much of the science community might force the same choice. Lately I find myself examining much of what I believe. Or am I wanting to mature in my thinking? In many quarters this would be considered dangerous and potentially detrimental. But if I am to keep my conscience clear, I must proceed! Which leads me to want to say:
- I will explore, think, and arrive at my own conclusions with a free and clear conscience.
- I will encourage others to do the same.
- I will provide a community within which this can occur.
The photo is one I took early yesterday morning on my way into the hospital to be with Jesse. It is taken with my iPhone. The solitary cloud, probably the result of a smoke stack spew from the Irving Oil Refinery, looked like something from a science fiction. It was ominous, foreboding and sinister. Even the cloud ceiling has an apocalyptic touch to it. The sun trying to break through eventually won to make for a clear day. But another storm descends upon us tomorrow.
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David Hayward is an artist trapped in a pastor's body, stripping to the essential.
