Lisa Colón DeLay

Are most leaders mature?

“whaa WHAH!”
(That’s the “nope” sound from Sesame Street in case you’re wondering.)

A deeper leader leads from a place of integrity and maturity.

I’m very happy to be partnering with Evangelical Seminary to bring greater awareness and dialogue to the topic of Leadership and Spiritual Formation. Their new (part distance/part in-person cohort learning method) under 2 year graduate studies program prioritizes spiritual maturity in leadership training, and in our culture, it’s sorely needed.

I’m looking into getting a second masters degree. That’s how good this program is.

Are spiritually mature leaders important to you?

If so, there is an excellent opportunity to associate with the leadership resources launching at ES, and participate in promoting and nurturing spiritually formed leaders through a new variety of approaches. First of all you can help spread the word by sharing the information and resources you find at ES, and through their social media outlets. Articles, events, forums, go-to resources, guest writers, and more is coming.

Also, a synchroblog is in the works for the 2nd September (soon!) on the topic. Learn more on the Evangelical Facebook page or their website this week and next. (I will also post updates here.)

You can join in and be a part of something BIG.

If you are a leader and have a tribe or a blog, you can submit articles for consideration for a featured guest post spot at the Deeper Leader blog sponsored by ES. (Use the contact form on the right to express your interest.) This will pair you with some amazing professions in the the field of leadership, spiritual formation (sometimes called discipleship), leadership studies at the graduate level, and help nurture a whole new generation of better equipped leaders.

The first featured guest writer in this new phase is unveiled today! It’s none other than prolific author, the “living uncaged” Mary DeMuth. Read her contribution on leadership here.

Mary DeMuth is Living Uncaged!

Today I have the honor of being a guest at Ed Cyzewski’s blog. As a new proud daddy Ed is taking a paternity leave, but he’s planned a bunch of guest writers to keep us happy readers.

I’ve contributed a piece about the time I outgrew my small group, entitled, “Seasons of Belonging”.

Even though the misfit made belonging difficult it finally created the atmosphere for personal change and the beginning of a new journey.

Here’s the link.

Enjoy!

(Ross is the one in the hat)

Storyless
-by Ross Gale

I have a friend whose mother tells a story of her as a child: when studying for a third grade test using flash cards, my friend strained to think about the answers. Sometimes her mother would have to say the answers out loud, but even then my friend didn’t seem to connect the dots. She’d keep thinking, the answer too far beyond her. Her mother laughs a bit and says, as a child she was a little stupid. This is the story my friend tells herself, that she is stupid.

When she was in junior high and missing school from an illness, she’d beg her mother to return her to class because she needed to get smarter. She loved school. She did not like being stupid.

She is in her twenties now and the stories her parents tell her influence her. She is an over-achiever in the sense that grades matter to her because they reflect who she is. She’s always trying to prove the story wrong, but she also seems to believe that she’ll never be able to prove it wrong. She’ll always be stupid.

The story my father tells me is about when I was three and he was sick in bed with the flu. Everyone was out of the house for the day so I stayed by my father’s side. I didn’t cry or fuss or ask for anything. I just stayed there because he needed me. My father says I have the biggest heart of anyone he knows. The story tells me something about myself. This is who I believe I am.

The stories parents tell their children about them are stories that shape their identity and purpose.

When Mary and Joseph take their son Jesus to Egypt, I imagine them telling him the stories surrounding his birth, the reason they weren’t living in Palestine, and what the angels had each pronounced to them. Before he knew who he was through Scripture, he knew who he was from his parents’ stories.

When a child is disabled like my brother KC, who had a traumatic brain injury at three, the stories my parents tell are stories about a different boy, they are stories about a boy without a disability who doesn’t have seizures, who can run and play sports, who can graduate high school, who can annunciate his words, and speak clearly. They tell stories about a boy with athletic prowess and a stubborn attitude.

An accident like KC’s, however, renders the stories meaningless. With an accident like KC’s he becomes a storyless boy. How do you shape the identity and purpose of a storyless child? This is the tragedy of tragedy; it robs the power of story.

We have a God who gives us this purpose and identity so even when our stories are harmful or meaningless or shameful or stolen, we can become a part of a new story. God’s story. A story of hope, redemption, and meaning.

Ross Gale is a writer and editor from Oregon. His work is featured in Burnside Writers Collective, Antler, Relief Journal, Archipelago, and he contributes to MagicalTeaching.com. He earned his Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Seattle Pacific University. He blogs at rcgale.com where he’s editing the “Bereshit Bara Creativity Series” which asks 13 Creatives to wrestle with questions about what gives them the courage to create.

jeremy statton

I started reading Jeremy’s excellent blog shortly after he became a community leader on Michael Hyatt‘ über popular blog. (Michael just locked in a best seller on the topic of Platform. Amazing. Seriously.)

It took me about 5 seconds to surmise that Jeremy is an overachiever in a really awesome way. He’s an orthopedic surgeon in Kentucky. He’s married to Amanda (who likely possesses super powers), has four children, and is the process of adopting a couple of kids from China. His recent ebook called “Grace Is: A Practical Guide to God’s Love” is worth the read. Get started at Jeremy’s by reading my article here…and please reward his generosity to me by sharing something in the comments section. Thanks everyone!

Oh! And on the topics of simple surprises….Here’s a little surprise I’ve been working on.

Could you solve this puzzle?

This is just the beginning of the Story. I’m up to something. Check back soon to find out what!

Welcome guest post contributor Ryan Braught. Ryan works as a church planter in Lancaster, PA. I met Ryan in college, and later found out that he went on to get his Masters of Arts in Religion at the same seminary a few years ahead of me. Evangelical Seminary now offers a new and fantastic Masters of Arts in Christian Leadership, a unique hybrid program combining online and on-campus studies and has partnered with Messiah College, Lancaster Bible College, and Asbury Seminary to extend their educational programs. Today, Ryan shares about the challenges of ministry and identity. Thanks, Ryan!

Identity

For the last two and half years I’ve been planting Veritas, a missional community in Lancaster, PA. There are various challenges in this.

There’s the challenge of developing a Core Group for Veritas. There’s the struggle of seeking to do church in a whole new way in an area that has a fairly traditional view of what church is. There’s the challenge of balancing 4 part time jobs between my wife and me, a free lance job, two kids and keeping up with everything that comes with running a household. But the biggest challenge that I have been faced with revolves around the issue of identity.

All too often, whether in planting a new faith community, or just in life, we define ourselves by what we do. And we define our self worth from what we do, and whether we are “successful” or not. Maybe men do this more.

If I’m honest with myself, my self worth all too often is tied into how I perceive things are going.  If we have a good Sunday, as far as numbers (even though we seek to define success by other metrics) I feel good about myself.  If we have a bad Sunday, as far as numbers go, I feel horrible about myself and want to throw in the towel and give up.  The biggest challenge I believe, at least for me, in this planting journey has been to remember this phrase, “It’s not what I do, it is about whose I am.”

Scripture says this about me, “he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will” (Ephesians 1:5), and “The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.”(Romans 8:15).  Too often I say to myself (or Satan says) the very opposite of these words.   I forget that I am a child of the King and that I am loved, not for anything that I can do, have done, or will do. I am loved period.

One thing that stuck from my years at seminary that has helped me confront this problem of identity is this simple statement, “There is nothing you can do to make God love you any less.  There is nothing you can do to make God love you any more.”  My identity is not in being a church planter, a father, a husband, or anything else that I try to define my worth in.  My struggle is to remember that, and place my identity in the fact that I am a child of the Heavenly Father.

Have you ever struggled with identity based on what you do?

I’m really happy to have J.R. here today to talk about the patience needed for spiritual growth. As ministers, leaders, teachers, or parents frustration can set in when our efforts seem fruitless. This post will encourage you with needed perspective!

Thanks, J.R. !

The Impatience of Ministry: Waiting for the Vegetables to Grow

by J.R. Briggs

A few years ago my wife did something for the first time that she had wanted to do for quite some time: plant a garden in our backyard. We live in Pennsylvania, one of the most fertile states in the Union. The saying around here is if you can’t get your garden to grow in PA you’ll never get it to grow anywhere.

She bought a few small plants and spent an afternoon delicately placing them into the soil and watering them. Basil, tomatoes, green peppers, cucumbers and mint, among other things. It was a relatively small garden, but enough to find great enjoyment out of growing items we could enjoy. There is nothing better than eating dinner in the summer with items you grew a few hundred feet away.

Our oldest son (who was three at the time) was excited to hear that mommy was planting a garden that afternoon and he wanted to help. He got his boots on and with trowel in hand, helped mommy dig around in the soil and water the plants once they were in the ground.

As they finished the planting process that afternoon, it was time for his afternoon nap. He was disappointed when I called him in and cleaned him up before heading up to his room. When he woke up a few hours later, his first question to my wife was “Are the vegetables ready yet?” With a smile, she explained that they won’t be ready for at least several weeks. Plants just don’t grow that fast.

He was sorely disappointed and confused. I will never forget the look on his face: completely downtrodden. All my wife and I could do was try to keep from him noticing our smiles.

As cute as this story is, I find it a fitting reminder for pastoral work. Its easy to place impossible expectations on people in our churches to grow and produce fruit – and do it immediately.

We become impatient and wonder what’s wrong, why nothing is working, why it seems nobody around us is growing in the same way we read about in the last issue of a ministry magazine or heard about from the stage at the last pastors’ conference we attended. Why are the vegetables not ready yet? Its been a few hours already!

My son provided a good reminder – and a poignant challenge – for me and my approach to ministry. In fact, I’ve told this story dozens of times to other young pastors who are anxious that while they are faithful to do what they are called to do, they wonder why they aren’t seeing tons of fruit yet. And, yes, I’ve had to tell it to myself multiple times, too. True fruit production in the lives of people trying to be like Jesus is a long process, full of dirty and mess, which requires a great amount of patience. As Eugene Peterson wrote, spiritual maturity is a long obedience in the same direction.

The vegetables will come – but not this afternoon. We must do our part: wait, water, pull weeds, tend to the soil. And wait some more. It is dirty work. Fruitful work, but dirty nonetheless. The vegetables will come, but they will not come by this afternoon.

This is God’s work to be done, not ours. We cannot attempt to do the work that does not belong to us.

The vegetables will come, but not this afternoon.

There is no need to be disappointed.

J.R.’s Bio:

J.R. Briggs serves as Cultural Cultivator of The Renew Community a Jesus community for skeptics and dreamers in Lansdale, PA – a suburb of Philadelphia, which he helped start. He is the founder of Kairos Partnerships, an initiative that partners with leaders, pastors and church planters during significant kairos moments in ministry. As part of his time with Kairos Partnerships, he serves on staff with The Ecclesia Network and Fresh Expressions U.S. and coaches leaders, pastors and church planters across the country.

He also oversees the Renew Apprenticeship Program, a year-long experiential program that equips, trains and teaches young leaders and pastors to become effective and faithful church planters for contextual ministry in the 21^st century. He is the creator and curator of the Epic Fail Pastors Conference, which helps pastors embrace failure and grow to see failure as an invitation to growth and an opportunity for grace and healing, instead of shame.

He has never helped write a Wikipedia entry and will never outgrow the joy that comes from popping bubble wrap. He’s prone to put too much wasabi on his lunch, but he is a proud card-carrying member of the Clean Plate Club.

J.R. and his wife Megan have two sons, Carter and Bennett, and live in the heart of gritty Lansdale, PA.

Kevin makes me laugh at his isle of man blog, so I invited him to post here. Enjoy!

BIO: Kevin Haggerty is a 32-year old husband and expecting father. He runs and writes for a humor blog called TheIsleOfMan.Net. For his full-time job, Kevin is a middle school teacher and basketball coach. He also writes for a mixed martial arts (MMA) blog called MMAMania.com. He’s the oldest of seven children, a continual skeptic and smart people think he’s funny (at least that’s what he tells himself).

The Day I Fell Down a Mountain

When I was a freshman in college, I sucked at being a student.

In high school, I graduated with honors. I worked hard, but nothing else was an option. Being the oldest of seven kids (which doesn’t give you the right to ask me if my parents like to have sex…so don’t), a lot was expected of me. I generally lived up to those expectations, but it took its toll.

By the time I got to college, I was completely burned out on studying, reading and being a student, in general. To give you some perspective, I went from a 3.9 high school GPA to a 1.8 freshman average.

My parents weren’t there to spur me on. No one got in my face when I failed a test. No one jerked the covers off of me when I slept pass my alarm clock. I was learning how to be an adult, and I was failing the course badly.

I wasn’t kidding. I sucked at being a student.

Everything culminated on one fateful day. The end of my first semester was nearing a close. We were in the middle of finals week. I had a History exam that morning. I needed to do well.

In high school, I coasted through History, like I did with most of my classes. I memorized the material and never really stretched any mental muscles. It was easy. I was barely trying.

College presented me with a whole new set of obstacles I’d never encountered before. Specifically, I had a History professor who had a very unique take on U.S. History. He taught us things I’d never heard before. In retrospect, I’m not even sure he was wrong, but it was unorthodox and outside the box. I had to really think in his class.

I hated it.

Back to the exam.

I woke up, in a panicked cold sweat, looking at my alarm clock to see that it was 7:50 a.m. Why is that a big deal? Because the exam was at 8.

I freaked.

I threw on the nearest school appropriate attire I could find in my disgusting mess of a dorm room and darted out the door.

I wasn’t walking. I wasn’t even jogging. There was no time for that. If I missed this exam, I’d fail the course. That was simply unacceptable. I had to make it. So I sprinted.

Did I mention it snowed the night before?

Well, it did. Not only did it snow, but the ground iced over. To further complicate matters, my dorm was situated on top of a steep hill. Are you starting to get the picture?

I could have gone down the stair cas

e. They’d even salted it. That would have been the smart move, but I was late. I had no time for stairs.

I stupidly maneuvered through the bushes that led down the slope of the hill. This was the shortcut we always took when we needed to get to the academic buildings faster.

I got there fast alright. Oh, did I ever.

As I ran through the bushes, I was greeted with a fresh patch of ice that caused my feet to betray me and fly in the air. I was literally head over heels. I continued my clumsy descent down the hillside, which stretched a good 100 or so feet. When I emerged from my adventure,

But I had an exam to take, so I got up, brushed myself off and continued to run like an idiot to the academic building.

As I endeavored on towards the door of the classroom, I saw the professor closing the door. If he shut it, he’d lock it. If he locked it, he would not unlock it. This was a series of events I could allow to occur.

So I ramped up my speed to “overdrive.” Luckily, I was able to grace the doorway before he had completely shut the door. More luckily, he allowed me to enter.

I don’t even remember how I did on the test. I think I did alright, and I passed the class. Regardless, that whole episode was part of my growth as a student.

I realized something very important that day. That wasn’t who I wanted to be. That wasn’t how I wanted to spend the rest of my college career. I needed to step my game up, and it took falling down a mountain to really gain the necessary perspective.

Has life ever used an icy hillside to get your attention?

(screen grab of an upcoming video)

Excerpt:

(BONUS: Here is a great audio document on her majesty Ella Fitzgerald, the “First Lady of Song”. Her improv (scat) is pitch-perfect and sounds a lot like a clarinet.)

Check out the rest of the post I did on Ed Cyzewski’s blog today.

If you like it, you’ll LOVE Volume 5 of my ebook, God’s GRAND Story.
More details and a snazzy video coming soon.

For info updates and a free volume just sign up.

Subscribe to get 3 Volumes for Creators & Communicators (free) 

Kathy Escobar is a plucky spiritual formation-minded woman bearing God’s message…and she has a great time in the process. What a kindred spirit! Enjoy her contribution. How could you not, right?

Kathy co-pastors the refuge, an eclectic beautiful faith community in north Denver, juggles 5 kids & an awesome husband, advocates friends in hard places, and is a trained spiritual director who loves to teach and facilitate events, workshops, and groups.

Be Yourself. Everyone Else is Taken
-by Kathy Escobar 

“Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken” – Oscar Wilde

I first discovered what a “blog” was in 2006, when we planted The Refuge, the wild little faith community I am part of.  Honestly, I had never heard the word before; I had been immersed in a hectic ministry role that was very insulated from the wider church conversation and I just wasn’t online.  This transition from mega-church to small-church-plant was a messy one for me.  I was in a lot of pain from my experience, so I reached out online after stumbling across some blogs while searching for church website ideas.  I felt an instant and immediate sense of relief when I discovered I wasn’t crazy, and I wasn’t alone in some of my feelings.  I found others with similar stories & similar church dreams.

The men and women I read were honest, bold, raw, and pure.

They weren’t selling anything, trying to push their agenda, or attempting to make-people-come-over-to-their-way-of-thinking.

Rather, they just told their stories.  Shared their experiences. Responded to other people’s comments with simple kindness and respect. And above all, they remained honest about what they were wrestling with and learning along the way.

Reading their blogs gave me hope.

They inspired me.

They pointed me toward God (even when they were wrestling with God).

They challenged me to think.

January 1, 2008, I started my own blog and dedicated myself to two simple commitments:

1. Write as honestly and purely as I could without editing or trying to worry about what other people might think.

2. Write once a week for one year.

It’s been a wild ride, and I have learned so much through the process over the past 4 years.

Out of everything, I think blogging has helped me learn to become more comfortable in my own skin, with my own voice, with who I am.

I think that is a very holy and sacred experience on our spiritual journey–learning to find safety and security in who we really are.  

Not who someone else is.

Not who we think we should be.

But in who we are.

I am someone who has always struggled with the message that I wasn’t enough somehow–not spiritual enough, not quiet enough, not domestic enough, not skinny enough, not organized enough, not-whatever-enough.

Blogging definitely intersected with this message, initially making it even worse.

In the first few years of my blog, I had so much internal anxiety about not being good enough, funny enough, theological enough, wise enough, or concise enough.   Whatever “enough” it was, I wasn’t.

But something began to shift in the past several years as I continued to find my voice and become more comfortable in my own skin out here.

I began to realize that the world doesn’t need another _________ or __________ or __________ (Insert name of any bloggers you are jealous of, and my guess is they are wrestling with similar feelings and go a little psycho about the same insecurities).

What’s missing is me.

Not because without me the world would stop spinning or the blogosphere would come to a screeching halt.

But because everyone else is taken.  

I think God wants us to learn how to become comfortable in our own skin, to be who-we-are, and not try to become someone else.

Blogging is a great place to practice this.

Making peace with who-we-are requires the ongoing-work-of-the-Holy-Spirit.  I doubt and question it all of the time.  I obsess before I hit “publish” and freak out about not being more like ______ or _______ (insert name of other blogger also obsessing about the same thing).

I need God’s help to remind me:  “Um, Kathy, just so you know, in the big scheme of things, it’s just a blog post.  And one other thing:  it’s a great place to practice just being you–with all your strengths & all your weaknesses.  Just you.”

And then I hit “publish” and take a deep breath and am reminded yet again, this is what transformation looks and feels like.

This is how we get more comfortable in our own skin.    This is how we learn to offer ourselves grace.  This is how we become “us” and not someone else.

Yikes, it’s hard to learn!   But blogging is a great spiritual practice that can help integrate this important truth into deep places in our hearts.

Yeah, my spiritual guidance for all us bloggers is this:  Be ourselves.  Everyone else is taken.

I was really excited when Alise came on board with this Series. Ever since I started reading her blog, I’ve felt like she was my homegirl. She’s a busy girl, though, and I didn’t know if it would work out for her to participate. Thankfully, for me and you too, she’s a gracious girl, and I welcome you to read her contribution. Thank you, Alise!

(also “girl” means awesome woman)

Alise is married to an amazing man and is mom to four incredible kids. She enjoys writing, playing keyboards in her cover band, eating soup, and Oxford commas. She is the editor of “Not Alone: Stories of Living with Depression” and is currently editing “Not Afraid: Stories of Finding Significance”, both with Civitas Press. She blogs regularly at alise-write.com, and you can connect with her on Facebook and Twitter.

More Influential than Klout
-by Alise Wright 

Blogging is kind of a funny thing.

Absolutely anyone can go set up a blog and start writing right now. Heck, someone probably read that last sentence and thought, “You know, that’s true,” stopped reading, and started a blog. I’m glad my writing could inspire you.

And there it is. As soon as we have anyone reading our words, we have this power. It won’t happen every time, but when we write, we become influential. Not like the way Klout tells us that we’re influential, but in a more real way. We can shift perspectives. We can persuade decisions. We can impact conversations.

Often, however, we forget that our readers and commenters have the ability to influence us as well.

I post regularly about relationships that are dangerous and those kinds of posts tend to elicit strong reactions.

Because for the most part, we tend to read people who think like us, I often get positive comments. People will say that they have felt the same way, but didn’t know how to say it. They will share that they appreciate a different perspective being presented. Sometimes folks will tell me that I’m a true Christian for speaking out in favor of bridge building.

In these instances, it’s easy to allow people to influence my view of my faith.

Often, however, in these same posts, I get reactions that are not so supportive. People will suggest that my perspective is damaging. They will call me deceived. I’ve had people tell me that my views about things like cross-gender friendship, or LGBT affirmation, or atheist dialog without the goal of conversion indicate that I’m not a Christian at all.

In these instances, it’s easy to allow people to influence my view of my faith.

This is not how faith works. Our community can help shape our faith and can encourage us in the day to day application of that in our lives, but people on the outside don’t get to tell us if we’re real Christians or not.

One way to sort that question out is to look at what the Bible has to say.

In Philippians 2:12-13 we read, “Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed – not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence – continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.”

We work out our own salvation. We allow God to work in us.

My salvation isn’t determined by the number of people who agree with my point of view versus those who disagree. It isn’t determined by the person who thinks I’m a real Christian or the person who thinks I’m a pagan. It isn’t determined by inclusions on one list or exclusions on another.

My salvation is something that I work out with the One who calls me his child.

That’s the only influence that really matters.

#   #   #

Have reader comments ever influenced you or challenged your faith?

In which I post Sarah Bessey’s photo

Sarah Bessey writes at Emerging Mummy where she has become an accidental grassroots voice for postmodern and emerging women in the Church on issues from mothering to politics and theology to ecclesiology. Her writing has been well received in many publications including Church Leaders, Relevant Magazine, A Deeper Story, SheLoves Magazine, and Emergent Village. Sarah also works with Mercy Ministries of Canada, a non-profit residential home for women seeking freedom from life-controlling issues. She is a happy-clappy follower of Jesus and social justice wannabe. Sarah lives in Abbotsford, British Columbia, Canada with her husband, Brian, and their three tinies: Anne, Joseph and Evelynn

Hey, everyone! Lisa, here.

I’m happy to include a lovely person, champ blogger, and Canadian beauty– the one, the only: Sarah Bessey. I could tell you that I love Sarah and that I love reading her blog, but then you would just think, “Duh? Who doesn’t, Stupid?!”

Yesterday, she had a gracious response to the flap about under-represented female bloggers by posting her own list, which you can check out with her handy dandy button (link):

So, I’ll just use this valuable spot, after the 50 Button and before the letter from Sarah (yes, it’s beachfront property, baby) to encourage you to sign on for RSS or email updates for continued awesomeness. Lots of great writers are my splendid guest contributors ( a.k.a Series #4Bloggers ). My first ebook comes out May 1 “Soul Care for Creators and Communicators”. It’s free (until NOV 2012) if you sign up for it here. (It too is part of the awesomeness. More on that in the coming days and weeks)

And now, enjoy!

I met our next contributor in seminary. If you don’t know Warwick personally, it’s hard to describe him. Just reading his work one could get the false impression that he is just mildly eccentric, even understated. Don’t be fooled.

Warwick leaks out and away from every typical category. First of all, Warwick takes great pleasure in being unusual. He’s involved and conscientious. He makes frenzied gestures when he’s excited, his laugh is thoroughly concussive, and he devours books at vertiginous speed. He’s intense, yet surprises you with his sensitivity. He’s intelligent, but that doesn’t ever seem to help him for long. He’s both a marvel and a conundrum. I like him and I’ve learned a lot from him. Probably when it was least expected, and often where blood, or tears, or sweat has something to do with it. I’ve appreciated Warwick in the same way I grew to like dark lager. (In this curious photo, an unseen doctor checks Warwick for a mutant sty that developed after reading too many spiderman comics. Or, I made that last part up.)

Smart Authors Balance Honesty and Transparency
-by Warwick Fuller

We’ve just moved for the 4^th time in the past year. I just opened a box that was labeled desk stuff and found an old journal.   How I approach my journal is different from my blog.  My blog is mostly about my observations and the events going on in my life that are affecting me and the world around me.  Because of my faith, these observations are thru a certain lens.  I don’t think I’m bashful about that lens, but I am choosy about what I share in regards to that lens.  I’m choosy about what I share about my family.  I do know some of my readers.  I don’t know all of them.

In blogging there are certain ideals, and those that post them well are the people that have a high traffic volume.  Two of those ideals are honesty and transparency.  In being honest, we can see the writer’s flaws, and the true humanity that is behind the words and stories.  In being transparent, the writer becomes relatable.  These are trust issues.  A good author wants you to trust their work; wants you to understand and relate.

Being a smart author in such a personal medium is to know when to draw the line when it comes to transparency.  For me there are a couple of rules that I have employed in my head to help.

1.  Never paint your spouse/child/significant other in such a shade that they are degraded in the eyes of others.  I never want others to regret what I write about them, especially my immediate family.  It’s unfair; they never get to defend themselves on my page.  The stories I do share about them that I question I always run by my wife first.  If she feels uncomfortable then its off the table.
2. Never put your family in danger.  Honestly, there are crazy people out there.  My nana says more than there were when she was a kid.  The post that draws the most attention to my blog is a picture of the Marvel Comic Family Tree (nerd alert), and I’m not sure who is being drawn in because of it.   I am very careful in revealing certain details about where we are and what my kids are up to.  I’m honest, just not naïve.
3. It’s ok to make yourself the butt of a joke, but be redeemable.  Some reputations have been killed by what an author writes about himself on the interwebs.  Some comedians make a life out of self-humiliation.  I think that may be fine for others, but I want to be trusted by those who ask for my advice.  Because of the line of work I am in, others count on my opinion and advice.  I do not want that ruined by a misplaced, though true, story.
4. When in doubt, find a community to run your idea by first.  I have a wife who is understanding and is intelligent.  She also likes me, which helps when I tell her I want to put something on my blog.  She’s god at asking the right questions that help me not just know what to put up but how and why.  If you do not have a soundboard, then find one.  Or at least, write down your post and revisit a week later, before you post it.  This is just a good habit, anyway.
5. Be aware that the truth you find in your observations may not be what others saw.  It’s the old joke about the blind men and the elephant.  If you are writing about an event that took place, it’s not a bad idea to make sure you saw exactly what you saw.  Ask others that were a part of it for their own observations.  It makes a story round, and they can provide details you missed.
6. Don’t make yourself un-hirable.    I have no idea what the future holds for me and my family.  I do not want anything I’ve put up on my blog to put in jeopardy whatever God is leading us to next.  Neither should you.  A good reputation, to be trusted, is a desirable goal. I’ve heard better than silver and gold.  Weigh your words and see if what you read is how you want people to see you.

So, fellow bloggers, how close an eye are you keeping on your words?  What safeguards do you employ?  Can you ever be too honest and open?

Bio: Warwick Fuller is a blogger at www.warwickfuller.wordpress.com.  He names his pets after Anglican literary figures and wears bow ties. He is lead on his church’s Wednesday night Family Ministry, and is a USAR Chaplain.  He is married with three daughters and lives in Harrisburg, PA.  

Ray’s pastoral sensibilities and daily high-quality blog content make him one of my favorites. I’m so glad that he’s our guest contributor today. Ray has some wise words for us, so pay attention. (And BTW Ray, I only use 3 names as my pen name. There are at least two other Lisa DeLays out there, and I owe them the gift of not being associated with my shenanigans!)

Hey, friends, don’t miss other upcoming contributors in this Series. Get the feed burner  email delivery, or the RSS linkup.

The Christian Blogger’s Alchemy
-by Ray Hollenbach

About two years ago a well-known Christian contemporary singer came out as a lesbian. In a moment of what I mistook for inspiration, I wrote 700 words and hit the POST button on my blog. Overnight I received 20-times the page views I normally received. I woke up two days later with the blogger’s equivalent of hangover and the guilt from a one-night stand. My blog is supposed to be about spiritual formation: what did my opinions about someone else’s sexuality have to do with becoming a student of Jesus?

I had discovered Christian blogger’s alchemy: take a red-hot topic, add the name of a famous person (two famous people if you can), and add a sprinkle of holy Jesus words. Mix in Twitter and Facebook, then lean back and check Google Analytics hourly. It was a drunken, orgasmic blogger’s rush. What I didn’t know was that each page view clicked away a little bit of my soul. The new flood of traffic was the mess of pottage for which Esau sold his birthright.

It’s easy. In the past month you needed only write about Trayvon Martin, Mark Driscoll, Westboro Baptist Church, Obamacare in order to achieve mega-blogger status. Just check whatever is trending on Twitter or the Huffington Post, add a few borderline risqué words, a bit of righteous indignation, and heartfelt spirituality. “Heartfelt” is optional.

Lisa Colon Delay, the girl with three names, has given us a gift by starting this series, Spiritual Guidance for Bloggers. Sadly, Richard Foster and Dallas Willard were busy, so you’re stuck with me today. Here is my guidance:

It’s really about you: When we think we are discussing one topic, we are actually discussing another–ourselves. Blogging caters to the powerful urge for self disclosure. That’s why I throw away half of what I write. I’m too ugly, too mean-spirited for general consumption. I need to filter me. If I’m going to be honest, I should drive it home a little deeper: you need to filter you, too.

We would rather examine anyone else’s heart other than our own: Does it strike you odd that we can read one news item about a high-profile Christian celebrity and immediately have the ability to discern the intentions of their heart? This one is a bully, that one is a megalomaniac, and that other one must be called into account at all costs. I would give up my mighty blogging empire to read just one post where a blogger says, “Pastor Moneybags is a jerk, but why am I so upset about it?” Have you ever sent an email to the person you blogged about? How about sending a draft of your post to Pastor Moneybags and ask for his response? Would you be willing to wait for an answer? Deep down, we want others to understand our good intentions–why are we so quick to impugn the heart-intentions of others?

Criticism is easy, praise is hard: Let’s face it: there are plenty of easy targets out there. It says nothing about our marksmanship to shoot at something as big as barn ten feet in front of us. When we read “Love covers a multitude of sins,” have we ever applied Peter’s words to the other guy? Especially the church. Talk about an easy target. The church is filled with hypocrites and idiots. The church is enough to drive God himself crazy. Yet Jesus is passionately in love with the church. Why do we have grace for pagan terrorists and godless child molesters but cannot tolerate the fact that the church is filled with people just like us?

I could go on (I mean really, really go on), but here are a few mini-rants:

Page views don’t mean squat: At last count LMFAO’s Sexy and I Know It had 225 million page views.

The passage you should tape on your computer: Proverbs 10:19

Read Chapter Nine of C.S. Lewis’ Reflection on the Psalms: You can thank me later.

The Hollenbach Twitter commandment: RT others five times more than you promote your own blog.

Most Important: Read http://StudentsofJesus.com every day.

Bio:

Ray, a Chicagoan, writes about faith and culture. He currently lives in central Kentucky, which is filled with faith and culture. You can check out his work at studentsofjesus.com

click for photo attribution

Today’s post comes from Doug Jackson. Professor Jackson is a bona fide man of letters and a teacher of spiritual formation. He also blogs. He’s not the kind of expert that touts his CV. Rather, he’s a man acquainted with his humanity in a way the endears you to him right off, and a wisdom that can change you.

Blogging as Spiritual Journal
Doug Jackson

“For I am the sort of man,” Augustine once declared, “who writes because he has made progress, and who makes progress – by writing.”

Christian bloggers should rework Jane Austen’s dictum, “Write what you know,” and state it as follows: Write until you know. If we understand blogging as a process of self-discovery and even of self-formation, we may tread this track with greater gratitude and greater care.

Gratitude and care: Keeping an internal diary has long been seen as a spiritual discipline, from Augustine’s Confessions to Wesley’s journals to Mother Teresa’s recently published papers. The Internet tweaks this ancient practice by offering the perilous privilege of publication.

I say privilege because blogging encourages journaling by offering the incitement of instant readership. Journaling has never been one of my own spiritual practices because I am too much of a writer (or perhaps too little of a Christian) to stand the sound of one keyboard clattering. Writers write to be read, and while perhaps saints do not, most writers are at best saints-in-process. Tradition tells us that Abba John the Dwarf, at Abba Pambo’s direction, watered a stick every day for three years until it burst forth in fruit. I, however, simply will not chase the dead stick of writing if there is not a carrot of being read dangling somewhere on the end of it. George Bernanos’ country priest begins his Diary with the promise that after twelve months he will use it for kindling; by the end of the first chapter he amends it to “I’ll stuff it all away in a drawer to re-read it later with a clear mind.”

So blogging offers an incredible privilege: Writers who in the very recent past would have no outlet for their work can now find instant publication – and instant motivation. Anne Lamott notes the value of this kind of work:

I just try to warn people who hope to get published that publication is not all it is cracked up to be. But writing is. Writing has so much to give, so much to teach, so many surprises. That thing you had to force yourself to do – the act of writing – turns out to be the best part. It’s like discovering that while you thought you needed the tea ceremony for the caffeine, what you really needed was the tea ceremony. The act of writing turns out to be its own reward.

But the privilege comes laced with peril: the deadly sin of wrath.

Blogs are self-edited and self-published. I can say whatever I want. Blogs are also released to cyber-space: I can’t unsay anything, even if I want to. This makes a blog a great place to get angry, but a poor place to repent. When I played football we often drilled using foam shields known as “air bags.” I noticed that guys who avoided physical contact at all costs suddenly went Jack Lambert on us during these sessions. We dubbed such selective warriors “Air Bag All Americans.” A blog can be a playground for Air Bag Martyrs who speak boldly from the behind the bunker of their firewalls.

But wrath is a deadly sin for a reason. Jesus equated insults with murder. People often ask me, “Does that mean calling someone a jerk is just as bad as killing him?” My standard reply is, “Not to him.”

Which is largely the point and takes us back to blogging as self-discovery: My anger may or may not harm my targets (with a readership like mine, probably not), but it tells me something about me. “The pleasure of anger,” explains C. S. Lewis, “the gnawing attraction which makes one return again and again to its theme — lies, I believe, in the fact that one feels entirely righteous oneself only when one is angry.

Then the other person is pure black, and you are pure white.” Ranting blogs probably reveal very little about my airbag victims, but they should tell me something about the state of my own soul.

And then there’s the temptation of attention: Wrath translates to readership because everyone loves the vicarious thrill of an Internet takedown. If we write to be read, we must take care lest we automatically write what people like to read. Donald Kaul once closed a review of Robert James Waller’s chick-lit romance “The Bridges of Madison County” by admitting, “I still don’t know what Waller has, but if I thought it was contagious, I’d kiss him.” If cyber-sneering and digital drive-by’s mean viral results, we’re too quick to kiss – well, whatever needs kissing.

Harry Farra’s “Little Monk” begins keeping a journal early in his vows, and later finds it to be “a valuable record of a soul tamed by God.” Toward the close of the book, he abandons the volume to the care of a young woman. She shares it with her wayward son who finds that it changes his heart. Perhaps that should be the goal of the believing blogger: the charism of being overheard. An old joke says, “Live in such a way that you would not be afraid to sell your parrot to the town gossip.” I would amend it to: Blog in such a way that you would not fear to have your words read by a seeking soul in danger, one whom you may never meet.

I write these words as one more unknown note in the mighty symphony (or cacophony) of the blogosphere. My URL does not appear on big-time blog rolls. No one has contacted me to offer a book deal. Christian universities do not invite me to speak. But I don’t think I need the caffeine of fame (though, quite honestly, I’ll take it if it comes); what I need is the liturgy of writing. And who knows – maybe that is what someone who reads my blog needs as well.•

•

After twenty-five years as a pastor, Doug Jackson finally made it to Tarshish as an assistant professor in the Logsdon Seminary program of the South Texas School of Christian Studies in Corpus Christi, where he teaches spiritual formation, pastoral ministry, and Greek. In addition to his teaching, Doug writes “Sermoneutics,” a weekly devotional and sermon-starter blog based on the Revised Common Lectionary: http://sermoneutics2.blogspot.com/.

I discovered Joy’s blog recently, and one thing that takes me aback just about every time I read her is a weighty honesty that packs a punch. Joy doesn’t do this with brutality, but with simple truth. The real picture of how she sees things at that moment. It is, if you permit me, true art.

Enjoy her fantastic and candid contribution to our series, and read her blog. You simply must.

Joy’s Bio:

I am a writer, thinker, asker of questions, mother, wife, and bereaved parent. My faith is very much still in process. I’ve blogged since 2005, writing on faith and doubt, family life with children with special needs, grief, and the depression that I only recognized a year after our oldest died at the age of 8. Views expressed are my own and do not reflect those of me yesterday or tomorrow. 

Spiritual Authority and Blogging 

Faith bloggers are a funny bunch. They tend to approach their craft with all the collaborative spirit of the Lone Ranger, writing off alone into the sunset on their trusty steed Scripture. I say “they” as if I’ve never done this myself. That would be false. I’m just as guilty of doing this as the next person, and I have the archives to prove it. In fact, some days I would advise against writing a faith blog at all. (link to a post)

Blogging, particularly about faith, is chiaroscurist, contrasts of dark shadows against light. In the shadow, the writer spends hours with her keyboard, pounding out words until they sound right. It’s solitary, unseen, mysterious.

With the click of the “publish” button, light explodes onto those solitary words, illuminating all that private idea-wrangling for anyone to see.

I denied this public/private dynamic for years, arguing that my blog was like my living room, in which I could do what I liked. While that is somewhat true, it is also true that this living room has glass walls and sits in the town square.

This is part of what I love about writing a blog. It isn’t private. Knowing someone might read it keeps me writing. Writing for actual readers (unlike in a journal) has been essential to keep me practicing my craft.

Words demand respect. They have power to convey anything when handled aright, even error. I’ll never forget one of my college professors illustrating the power of words with a story of convincing someone that it was a different day of the week. Interacting with someone’s words has great potential to teach, inspire, inform, persuade, amuse, grieve, anger, motivate, and more.  If I love people as I love myself, I must consider the potential of my words to lead them in the wrong direction.

Now what? If words are so dangerous, should we just lay down our arms and wave the white flag? Maybe, but maybe not.

We need a way to determine if our words are doing harm or good. We need spiritual authority, a standard against which to measure our message and tone. And because it’s really difficult to read what we’ve really written (we tend to see what we’re trying to say, not what we actually said), we need other people to help us with this.

We are human and we will screw up. Often (or maybe that’s just me). We all need someone (or a few someones) who are willing to look at our words and our lives and call us out when we get distracted from our mission, start listening to our own hype, or try to take credit for what God has accomplished. This person knows our heart and our vision, and they will ask hard questions, work with us to express things clearly, and correct things when we’ve gotten something wrong.

My posts have fallen prey to a weak vision or poorly-considered concept, they’ve wandered down rabbit trails, and they’ve followed the lure of trendy topics and controversy’s ability to ratchet up page views. Some of these were harmless, but others caused confusion, hurt, concern, and questions about the status of various relationships with family, friends, and God. Some days I forget that God gave me a story and the words to tell it and that my blog is where I express my [messy and inconsistent and flawed] love for God and for you. Some days I decide that expressing myself and airing my grievances or opinions is more important than doing the hard work of resolving issues in person.

How do I know when I’ve screwed up on my blog? Sometimes I can tell from the comments. Most of the time, however, someone close to me calls me on it. They ask the hard questions about my motives and what’s really going on.

We each need people in our lives who know us well, who we will listen to, who can ask us those questions. They need to believe in us, and believe in our vision. My husband is one of these people for me. He and I believe that God gave me a story to tell and the words to tell it. My blog is, for now, where I strive to encourage others with that story. When I remember that, it keeps me from writing things that distract or detract. And when I forget, he’s there to say, “Hold up a minute. What do you mean by this? Because it sounds like this, and I know that isn’t what you mean.”

I’ll be honest. It has been difficult to hear those questions, and even more difficult to admit that I might need to do more editing or scrap a post altogether. But as much as I chafe at guidelines and accountability, I’ve learned that I need it in order to write (and serve) well.

The 2nd contributor in The Spiritual Guidance for Bloggers Series is author, blogger, and friend of rabbits, Ed Cyzewski.

I’ve enjoyed Ed’s blog and books for years. Simply put, Ed is consistently top notch, and I can’t say that of too many bloggers, even ones I enjoy. His current Women in Ministry Series is giving women who love the Lord a chance to tell their stories in an environment of love, encouragement, and support. Don’t miss it.

Today he shares, with personal candor and razor keenness, a theme that foils many Christian bloggers: polarizing narratives. 

If there was ever a cesspool of troubling ideas about Christianity, it had to be a series of radio shows on this Christian radio station in my home town. Not all of the shows were cesspools mind you—only certain shows.

The cesspools were the shows that revolved around creating an “us vs. them,” barbarians at the gate narrative for Christians and the surrounding culture. The enemies could be liberal politicians, liberal media, and even “liberal” Christians—all terms that were tossed about loosely for anyone who was “dangerous”—whatever that meant.

We live and breathe on narratives. The majority of our narratives revolve around some sort of conflict.

What I’ve found is that I haven’t necessarily abandoned the structure of that old conflict narrative I grew to reject. I still see myself in terms of how I oppose other perspectives when I blog. The difference now is that the barbarians at the gate are the ultra-conservative fundamentalists with oppressive practices and damaging theology.

I still think of myself as somehow preserving true Christianity or the truth—whatever that means. The trouble with this narrative is that once I set myself up as the defender of anything, I’m creating a disingenuous conversation—one that is especially toxic when I tap it out in a blog post.

I’ve run into this conflict dynamic in both directions when I debate people about women in ministry. For those who oppose women in ministry, they often frame the discussion where they’re preserving the truth of scripture. Therefore the entry point for the conversation is that I, as a supporter of women in ministry, am somehow attacking the Bible.

On the other hand, I believe that anyone who denies the full equality of women in the church is denying them their fundamental rights. I can quickly use this to frame my “opponents” as oppressors before the conversation even starts.

Either way, we can create an uneven playing field where neither side can see eye to eye because one side has set itself up on higher ground.

I don’t like confronting perspectives that oppose my own. Nothing has changed in that regard, even if I’ve swapped sides sometimes. Nevertheless, I still like to think of myself as the hero, the one who is standing up for truth.

The reality is that we’re all stumbling around, trying to sort out what we believe and what we should do each day. We’re all over the map, and perhaps some points on the map are closer to the ever elusive truth. However, the topography is quite level. We all go into this with the same limitations and bias.

The world continues to spin even though there are churches who won’t let women pray in the company of men and other churches led by strong, Spirit-filled female pastors. It’s hard to believe some days.

I can still have an equal marriage, even if there are some who believe women must take a subservient position with their husbands.

I can still learn from women, even if women are silenced in some churches.

I can even keep cute and cuddly house rabbits in my living room, even if some people raise them as livestock for dinner.

I wish I could take the high ground. I wish I could be 100% correct. I wish I could judge. I wish I could win. If only I could find that high ground, it would all be so easy. As I shift from one perspective to another, I’ve learned that no one really knows where that impregnable high ground is.

I’m trying to leave the conflict narrative behind. I don’t need more enemies. I need allies. That means I don’t try to convert those who disagree with me into allies. I just try to find allies.

If someone who disagrees with me wants to chat, then I’m all for it. However, I hope to leave behind the high ground days where I roved from one conversation to another as a warrior for truth who defended his supposed high ground no matter what the cost.

Thankfully, God has found the high ground, and he’s not letting me or you anywhere near it. We’re all just stuck on this unending plain together, and the sooner we leave each other be, without incessantly poking every person who disagrees with us, the better.

Ed Cyzewski is the author of Coffeehouse Theology: Reflecting on God in Everyday Life and Divided We Unite: Practical Christian Unity. He blogs at www.inamirrordimly.com. 

Please enjoy a guest post by Greg Richardson. Spiritual Direction has been utilized by Christians (and other seekers of truth and growth), for nearly 2,000 years. Before the age of psychoanalysis (which began as an atheist response to wellness) , people trusted spiritual directors for “soul care” (whole care of mind, body, spirit, emotions, etc).

Greg reveals why there is a renewed interest in this area, and how God, through his Holy Spirit, teaches us about the reality of God’s omni-benelovence and omni-presence, as we walk with him. A spiritual guide is very helpful on the journey.

Greg Richardson

From Greg:
Spiritual direction is the art of spiritual conversation and listening carried out in the context of a trusting relationship.

Spiritual direction follows a model drawn from biblical and other ancient practices. When Nicodemus comes to Jesus in John 3, for example, Jesus guides him by asking deep questions and listening to how he responds. It has a long history, including the early Desert Mothers and Fathers, roots in Celtic Christianity, and many other examples.

Interest in spiritual direction is now increasing, at a time when people thirst for spiritual depth and connection but grow disenchanted with traditional forms of organized religion. Silence and listening are rarer and rarer in our time. We long to know that someone is listening to us so we can hear ourselves.

A spiritual director is a faith companion who listens to your life stories with an ear for helping you discern the movement of the Holy Spirit in your life. God is the true guide and director, while your human spiritual director is like a coach or midwife, supporting you as you pay attention and respond to the inner voice of God. The director is primarily interested in your experience of God and how you can follow God’s call. That process is a spiritual journey into the truth about God, yourself, your relationships, your work, and the world.

The premise of spiritual direction is that God is present and active in your everyday life in a multitude of ways that we often do not notice. When you slow down, breathe, begin to reflect and take a long look at what is happening around you, you begin to become more aware of your experience of God’s loving presence. The better you know yourself, the more you know God; the more you know God, the more deeply you know yourself and your direction and purpose. Intimacy with God leads into transformation, healing, and action.

Spiritual direction takes many forms. I have met with people in churches, in coffee shops, and in homes. I go on walks with people, listen to them via email and telephone, and meet with people on Skype. I have met with people once at a retreat or a conference, intermittently at key points in their lives, or regularly each week or each month over a period of years. With some people I say very little; with others I do more prompting or suggesting.

People tell me many things. Some people confess things of which they have been ashamed for years. Some people get angry, some cry, some laugh. I listen, ask questions, and help them hear their own stories.

I am a spiritual director. I am trained, certified, and experienced, and a member of Spiritual Directors International. I spend time listening to people’s stories; we let go of the past and put concerns about the future out of our minds so we can spend time in the present.

Greg Richardson is a spiritual director, leadership coach, and consultant to nonprofit organizations in Pasadena, California. He is a recovering lawyer and professor, as well as a lay oblate connected to the New Camaldoli Benedictine Monastery & Hermitage in Big Sur, California. Greg’s website is StrategicMonk.com, you can reach him at StrategicMonk@gmail.com. Follow him on twitter, here: @StrategicMonk

Do you have questions for Greg? Please leave you questions or thoughts.

I’ve known Jon Acuff for few years now. We have had the same agent. And he even gave me an invitation to write on his blog. (Here’s the post). See, I was a fan of Stuff Christians Like long before Jon wrote his first book, called, well, not surprisingly: Stuff Christian Like. (Now, he has a HQ website for all things Acuff.) And I was reading his funnies, even long before he was selling ads to….what?! NBC… my goodness. And let’s not forget all those fox and CNN appearances. Before those. Oh! and even way back (sort of ) when he was using his …um…decoy name, or something, “Jon Christopher”… seemingly to throw weaker fans, or readers, off his scent (to no avail, of course!). Anyone remember that?

So, I can’t rival Jon’s awesomeness, or his blog of epic fame and legend. (Jon gets more comments to his blog post in two minutes than I get in visitors all week.) However, I enjoy the ironical, and so might you.

7 Reasons Why my Blog will make you cry LESS than Jon Acuff’s (humor) blog

1. Unlike Jon, I only rarely talk about orphans. Heck, for ages, “an orphan” was a thing that happens in typography, where a word unsuspecting word is just left by its lonesome at the end of a paragraph. Poor thing. Bad, graphic designer. Bad!

Right now, I’m tearing up just thinking about a person (specifically Jon) writing about orphans (the human kind). So, there you go. You need more proof, then click to read his orphan article here. Orphans break out the water works like nothing else can. The only thing worse for your tissue stockpile is an orphan with cancer. That cute bald head. The sweet bloated little belly. Horrible stuff. I’m changing the subject. ugh.

2. Jon can make plenty of us cry, sometimes by just being a tad more serious, on Serious Wednesdays. That’s skill folks. I’ll never do that to you. It just not in me. (I mean I don’t haz the skillz) For future notice, I happen to be sillier on Wednesday than Jon is, thereby making my ability to incite tears pale by comparison. So, in case you’re keeping track, that would be proof # 2.

3. Jon writes touching things about his kids, that are profound and can make your eyes as moist and irritated as rubbing a hot chili pepper on your iris. Go ahead get a chili pepper and see for yourself.

4. Jon raises money for orphans. So, you know, it’s not talk. It’s action. And needless to say, it’s frickin’ orphans, dude. If that’s not so sweet to be tear jerking, than you must be the Tin Man–pre-Emerald City–my friend.

5. When Jon cries, we cry. More proof here. Don’t miss the comments section. About 400 people admit to crying. I’m not joking. It’s Unbelievable. See, I never cried in an airport except when I’ve been with a TSA worker. You just won’t find a story like that here.

6. Jon loves his wife, and it shows. Witness this. Honestly, where the heck are my tissues, the ones with aloe? (I don’t know if people even know if I’m married-which I am. There I said it. Gosh.)

7. Jon is generous. He’s always helping out struggling writers, ahem, and plenty of other people. Plenty. It’s almost too good to be true. (I have NEVER given huge bundles of hard cash at a bookstore, or iPads, or iPod shuffles, or really any Apple products at all. I’m so lame, but unfortunately not lame enough to stir your tears of pity.)

Have I made my case?

P.S.
If you are a blogger that offers fewer crying opportunities than Jon does, and you’d like some more blog traffic, share your blog link in the comments section, and we’ll stop by.

I invited Shane to post here, chiefly because I feel a kinship to Shane. The artist and the spiritual formation learner I am jives so nicely with Shane’s outlook, and what he does as his life’s work. Writers, artist, thinkers, creatives, musicians, and so forth bring vital perspective to Christian Spirituality, and walking with God. Shane tends to this group, which is not an easy task.

Shane Tucker

Who is SHANE TUCKER?
Shane lived in Ireland for eleven years with his wife, two daughters and son. Now, he serves as Creative Director for ‘Dreamers of the Day‘ [www.dreamtoday.org] – a network utilizing the arts, spiritual disciplines, evocative messengers, and symposiums to engage people in their journey with Christ. He is passionate about seeing people live into their purpose in life, and he finds applications for that as a ‘soul friend’ (spiritual director) via Soul Friend (www.ArtistSoulFriend.com). He can be reached via either website or at shane dot tucker at gmail dot com.

Please enjoy Shane’s post, and feel free to offer your insights, comments, or questions.

Aesthetic Spirituality
by Shane Tucker

“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”
-ThomasMerton

We have an innate quality to notice beauty at every turn. To know that something is ugly or unattractive we must, of course, know that true beauty exists . . and in some way, to have experienced it. We resonate most strongly with that which seems to offer wholeness or a sense of completeness to our lives. That resonance may also be experienced as a deep hunger. Seldom do we know ourselves well enough to be able to express those yearnings in a coherent fashion. Itʼs in those times we need a bridge – something enabling us to connect, to integrate disparate elements into a whole. . . into a sense of being whole.

Art – any method or medium of creativity – can often serve as this necessary bridge, this connection, between what we know and what we long or yearn to know. Art gives us the tools, the words, the motion to live into what we sense is already there, but as of yet remains unseen. In this sense, art itself is a means by which we find ourselves by moving beyond ourselves. Through art (the highest sort) we are transported into places and spaces where we can lose ourselves. Itʼs a gift to be fully present to, and fully absorbed into, a situation or individual where weʼve forgotten to be concerned with our own desires or even aware of our image before others. Iʼve had a few experiences like this directly and by extension.

One of those experiences occurred three summers ago while I was attending a festival of creativity in middle England. I sought out a band I wanted to become acquainted with and unexpectedly, during their set I was in continual awe. Through their skillful use of music and visual elements, I was caught up in the moment and I forgot myself. Classic. Iʼve had similar experiences standing on green, broad, bald hilltops around Ireland as I drank in the arresting landscape around me. Another example are Christmas mornings since my three children arrived on the scene. Experiencing the uninhibited enthusiasm and joy demonstrated by these little people as they open gifts and share their excitement with the family – these are moments of pure bliss.

In times such as these we are given the gift of losing ourselves . . more specifically, concern for ourselves. The end, however, is not the experience of forgetting oneself in beauty, wonder, and awe; or even that of knowing a deep resonance which affords us the equivalent of tonal tonic through lifeʼs journey. Itʼs knowing Him. I hear, see, touch, taste and feel the Creator in this God-saturated existence called life. Heʼs made Himself ever- present in the created order and ever-accessible. He has, in fact, painted Himself into the portrait, written Himself into the narrative and sung Himself into our lives – even into existence, in Jesus Christ. When we recognize His overtures of love, our moment is to respond whole-heartedly, in trust, recklessly abandoned. In His hands, we then become the artwork by which He invites others to lose and find themselves in Love.

“Those who want to save their lives will lose them. But those who lose their lives for me will find them.” – Jesus, Matthew 16:25

by Shane Tucker / Soul Friend (Spiritual Director) / www.ArtistSoulFriend.com

Thank you, Shane.

. . . when Moses was grown . . . he went out to his brethren and looked at their burdens —Exodus 2:11

Have you thought about discouragement in this way?

Your thoughts or comments are encouraged.

I just love this book!

When best-selling Blue Like Jazz (by Donald Miller) came out, lots of Christians ooed and awed about how insightful, witty, and clever Don was. I liked the book, a lot actually. But still, I couldn’t help feeling like hmm, how did this happen? Don has a knack for writing a funny memoir–and lucky for him, it was slightly before he could be reprimanded for making it sound–basically–like a blog. That’s all well and good, but, is it the funny we all crave? Not exactly. Is he super funny? Will his wit make you pee your pants?

Well, I conducted test after test, on a full bladder, and found that, no, a hefty chortle was pretty much the maximum laugh for my buck (about $13.) Don’t get me wrong, I think Don’s great. He’s great in a lumpy, comfortable, wingman with baggage kind of way. That’s fine. We all need our projects. One of mine is pitying him, and I also like to see what he’s up to next, because it’s usually interesting. I just like the guy.

But then here comes Jon Acuff. He’s a whole different species. If you compare Robin Williams to former supreme court judge, Sandra Day O’Connor, you’ll start to get an idea of what I mean about just how incomparably fun, whacky, and talented Jon is. Sandra, you’re fine, but don’t try too hard, ok? Don, pace yourself, you’ll be just fine.

So, I pre-oreder Jon’s “Stuff Christians Like” book (for under 8$) assuming it couldn’t meet up with all the hype. But it TOTALLY did! I won’t go into the testing process with too much detail, but I’ll just say, sometimes I read it while using the bathroom. (It’s a two birds with one stone kind of thing.)

My mascot/partner and I have developed a new ratings system for all epically wonderful things, and Jon’s book (which includes his blog from whence it came) is now quality-tested, and officially approved.

Jon Acuff's "Stuff Christians Like" earns 95% + approval rating!

What could get 100% Liger Approval you might be thinking? I don’t mind the question, actually.

Maybe the Bible? Or the Book of Common Prayer? No, apparently they wouldn’t. I don’t exactly know what Liger’s like. They are strange creatures with hopes, dreams, and moods I have no way of understanding.

It’s a rather vague system. However I can tell you Blue Like Jazz got 88.4 %, so that should tell you something.

Hope you get to read Jon’s book soon. Tell us what you think. That will be what it’s truly like… when the doves cry.

(If you didn’t read the book, that last part won’t be hysterical, and you’re probably going to feel left out. I’m – Sorry. Though I care about how you feel, I don’t make the rules about how you may or may not react emotionally to this sort of thing. Don Miller used to say, “Buying something makes you feel new.” Yes, he may have meant “new” in a false sense. But you’ll never know until you buy Jon’s book, now will you?)

Cheers!

;)

Sarah has a fresh new book out, and it’s great. Picking Dandelions: A Search for Eden Among Life’s Weeds.

Sarah's new book

I asked her to guest post here, and she also sent me a couple of books to give away! I’m going to be honest and tell you, I’m reading one of them, and I’ll give it away, when I’m ready. I really enjoy Sarah’s writing.

She is also the author of Dear Church: Letters From a Disillusioned Generation, a high school teacher, frequent speaker, wife to Mr. C, mom to Justus, the wonder baby, and keeper of a frenetic (aren’t they all) Jack Russell terrier, Wrigley. This is among many other accomplishments, but I only have so much space, and time, before you click away, with that short attention span of yours. Read here, to learn more, at her site.

If you would like to try for a copy of Picking Dandelions, here’s what to do.

1) Click the link to her website (above).

2) Learn 3 new things about Sarah.

3) Post them in the leave a comment section.

Rules/Tips: You can’t repeat anyone else’s item. (So, hurry, because the first people will get the good ones.) The person with the best eye for detail may be selected, but whimsy will give you bonus points. Go for it!

Sarah Cunningham

Guest Post from SARAH:

On Change

Dear readers of the lovely Lisa Colon Delay.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret.

Just because I wrote a book on change doesn’t mean I’m good at changing.

You might even say I’m bad at it.

Resistance to change is not necessarily a good quality when it comes to faith.

But sometimes I’m lazy.

Not changing just seems easier.

Its easier to view conversion as an event frozen in time, tucked away with Shrinky Dinks, glow worms, and other relics from the 1980s (or whatever decade you came to the faith).

Its more convenient to leave conversion there, during that one shining moment when we turned to God, than to continue to lug the light around where it might inadvertently illuminate things that still need changing.

This is what we tell ourselves anyways.

That its easier to let ourselves off the hook when our flaws rear their heads.

Its easier to protect our pride.

To keep being a little bit controlling.

To insist losing our temper is just the “way we are”.

Changing those sorts of things takes too much energy.

It costs too much.

Not changing is just cheaper.

Or is it?

It sorta depends on how you calculate the cost.

After all, our lack of change is probably costing someone.

Like the people who have to smack into the wall of our pride on a daily basis.

Like the family or friends or co-workers we manipulate.

Like the wounded left in the wake of our temper tantrums.

There is also, of course, the cost to ourselves.

The damage to the life God intended for us.

A life that is a little more scarred, a little more strained, a little more convoluted.

A cheapened version of the life-to-the-full Jesus said he came to bring.

So we sidestep the cost of personal reflection and hard work to confront our flaws.

But do all those times when we cheap-skate change end up being more expensive in the end?

What do you think? Can Christians afford the luxury of unchanged living?

Professor Doug Jackson

Today’s Featured Writer has something to say about the future of the church. But, he has an altogether different perspective, than our previous guest writer, John O’Keefe, and actually, most people. And this, in a nutshell, is Doug Jackson. But you could ever squeeze him into a nutshell, so never mind. He is a thoughtful and gifted thinker, a searching pilgrim, a devoted Christian, and a baking whiz. And, he’s topped with more than a modest dollop of wisecrackiness.

Please enjoy and interact with Doug’s contribution.

Mini-Bio: Doug Jackson

Director of Logsdon Programs, Instructor of Spiritual Formation at South Texas School of Christian Studies, in Corpus Christi, TX.

• D.Min. – Truett Seminary ( 2006)
• M.Div. – Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary (1985)
• B.A. – English Literature, Grand Canyon College (1982)

The Church with a Future

-Doug Jackson

John O’Keefe is a futurist.  I find that intimidating as heck.  Personally, I’m a traditionalist.  I can quantify the difference.  Tramping through the jungle, a futurist and a traditionalist happen on some tiger tracks.  “You track him,” suggests the traditionalist, “and find out where he’s going.  I’ll backtrack and find out where he’s been.”

There isn’t even a cool name for the preferred direction for my arrow of time.  “Futurist” conjures up images of, well, guys with shaven heads and soul patches.  “Traditoinalist” calls up images of guys with bald heads (which is SO not the same thing) and no soul at all.  This part I can at least work on.  I think from now on instead of “traditionalist,” I’ll call myself a “past-er.”

So what can a past-er say to the church’s future?  If there is, in the words of T. S. Eliot’s J. Alfred Prufrock, “time for a hundred visions and revisions” of the people of God in community, how much time do we have (and should we allow) for a rear-vision?  Not too much, I don’t guess.  Accordingly, I want to state a thesis and offer three theories.  My thesis is that, whatever the church OF the future looks like, the church WITH a future will be the one with a past.

To speak of the church OF the future is simply to make a chronological observation.  It means “the church that isn’t here yet.”  It doesn’t tell us much about what this church will do or how long it will last.  By the church WITH a future I mean the local community with staying power.  And this church, I believe, has a future precisely because it has a past.  Which leaves my three notions of what such a church looks like.

First, I believe that the church with a future cares less about the draft of its craft than the depth of its ocean.  In his eightieth sonnet, Shakespeare admits to his chick that other poets can praise her better.  So why should he keep scribbling?  Then the bard continues:

But since your worth, wide as the ocean is,

The humble as the proudest sail doth bear,

My saucy bark inferior far to his

On your broad main doth willfully appear.

Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat,

Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride.

In other words, what matters is that her merit can bear the burden of grand praises and meager ones. I come from a generation of ministers who learned that good meant big so bigger meant better.  I think the church with a future looks back on the mighty acts of God in history and realizes that the Queen Mary of the megachurch and the rowboat dinghy of the corner congregation all float on the vast sea of God’s greatness, and that plumbing this depth, not scaling our own impressive rigging, is what counts.

Second, I believe that the church with a future cares more about reading its story than writing its narrative.  “Narrative” seems to be a big word in church these days.  As far as I can tell, it has a lot to do with composing our own future in a compelling way that attaches single acts of worship or service to a greater purpose.  I’m all for that, but I think it is important to remember that, at best, we’re writing one chapter in a very long book whose plot is already clearly laid out.  This even works at the local church level.  Eugene Peterson warns us in The Contemplative Pastor that, “the cure of souls takes time to read the minutes of the previous meeting, a meeting more likely than not at which I was not present.”

We find those minutes recorded in church history and church hymnals, two documents which have fallen from favor in my own denomination, where we seem to believe that the church poll-vaulted from Pentecost over several regrettable centuries until she landed safely in our own generation.  That’s why we jettisoned a songbook that came to us polished by millennia of theological mulling on the part of the worldwide body of Christ and opted instead for toe-tappers and hand-clappers that can give us no idea of who we are.

I’m not knocking contemporary music, nor do I believe the Spirit quit inspiring songwriters somewhere around the time Fanny Crosby died.  But because more recent music has not had the advantage of the filtering years, I would like to apply C. S. Lewis’ dictum about books to the business of congregational singing:  “After (singing) a new (song), never allow yourself another new one till you have (sung) an old one in between.  If that is too much, you should at least (sing) one old one to every three new ones.”  (I should admit here that Lewis disliked ALL hymns because he thought the poetry was bad.  He’s probably right, but to me it seems that their theology is rather good.)

Finally, I believe that the church with a future cares more about present faithfulness than future viability.  Because the church of the future will be a mess.  Do what we will (and I hope we will), she will remain a morass of carnality and littleness and arguments over service times and carpet samples for the new fellowship hall.  And she will be the Body of Christ, the one institution Jesus ever promised to care about, and one which he said would sit on an unshakable foundation.

So the church with a future doesn’t spend too much time reading the chicken guts of the changing culture and dealing a Tarot deck of trends.  She doesn’t cross with sliver the grasping palms of earringed “consultants” ensconced in dark tents of occult insider info.

Lewis’ Screwtape rightly warns his protégé Wormwood that the proper focus of human endeavor is the junction of Right Now and Forever which leads us to ask what we need to do in the former in order to serve the latter.  But “the future is, of all things, the thing least like eternity.”

The beauty of futurists like John is that they won’t let us rest in Merlin’s tower forever gazing at some ecclesiastical zodiac; they keep demanding that we do something about this stuff.  They refuse to let us fall into Screwtape’s trap of forgetting that the future is not (Screwtape again) “a promised land which favoured heroes attain,” but rather “something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.”

In short, I should simply say that the Church is the church with a future.  For two thousand years we have hijacked her with our high-handedness, betrayed, bureaucratized, bushwhacked and bamboozled her, tarted her up, sold her out, locked her in and dragged her down.  We have made her impertinent, irrelevant, irreverent and irritating.  We have used her to camouflage our carnality and let the slimming stripes of the martyrs’ scars hide the midriff bulge of our overfed carnality.  “And for all this,” the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins reminds us (if I may take a large liberty), Christ’s church

What feedback do you have for Doug?

I’m thrilled to have John O’Keefe as our featured guest writer. John is at the tail end of finishing his dissertation, and is writing a book about vision for Christian ministry and leadership in this century. Some exciting times are just around the corner, and I do believe John has some valuable insights to share. Below is a brief bio, and then his post. It’s sure to whet your appetite for what’s to come. Feel free to ask him more about it, contribute your thoughts, and give John a shout out.

Bio:

John  is a doctoral candidate at George Fox Seminary, and has been called a “creative futurist ,” by people other than his mom. For 15 years has been an active voice in the emerging/evolving conversation regarding Christian Spirituality. As Senior Pastor and Church Planter with 15 years experience, he is leader, and a dynamic, honest, up front speaker and consultant. 

Besides being the founder of ginkworld, John has written for a number of other ezines: the Ooze , dtour , Next-Wave , and others. John has also written for homiletics and other publications. He likes to take pictures of himself driving, such as you see here.

John O'Keefe

The Conceptual Church: A Vision

-by John O’Keefe

When I was asked by Lisa to be a guest blogger, I was excited.  I was excited because in her request she told me I could share with you what was on my heart and for me, as of late, that has been the idea of leadership in the emerging church.   First, I want to say that I am beyond the term “emerging.”  Not because I see it as a “bad” word, but because I am beyond thinking in terms of “emerging” and think more in terms of being a conceptual church – let me explain.

When we think in terms of “emerging” I think in terms of “coming from.”  That is to say, a flower emerges from the plant.  While the flower “emerges” it is still very much the same as the plant it emerged from, with minor variations in color and size.  The flower will go to seed and produce a plant pretty much the same as the plant it comes from – the cycle continues; even though they emerge they carry the DNA to the next generations.  So I have found with the leadership concepts of the emerging church.  Those in leadership are products of what I call the “industrial church” (what many are still calling the modern church).  Because of this, many emerging churches are simply younger offspring of the industrial church model.  While the church may look different, at its core leadership there is very little difference.  So, what I am calling for is something very different, and something very right brained – something I am calling a “conceptual church” (a church for the 21^st Century).  For the conceptual church we need to develop a “conceptual leader” – a shift from the left brained industrial church to the right brained conceptual church.

I am in the process of writing a book for my doctoral dissertation based on that very reality.  The idea to reach out to a conceptual people we need to develop conceptual churches lead by conceptual leaders.  Right brain thinkers who are creative, empathic, dynamic, and understanding people who see the world with new eyes, and lead in new (yet very ancient) ways.  Without going too deep into the book (not willing to give away the surprise) I will share that one of the keys to understanding a conceptual leader is to see people as people – in the industrial church people are seen as resources and assets and are placed in the “expendable” category when it benefits the organization.  Yet, in a conceptual church people are seen as people and add to the diversity of the of a community of faith.

My prayer is that the book will be ready by the middle of 2010 – let me know what you think.

I’ve been enjoying Chad’s blog, and social media shout outs for a while now; so I was quite excited, when this busy guy agreed to guest post here. It’s a joy for me to share things with readers here, including people. 

Chad Estes

Chad is a legend. Even “Biblical Learning Blog” (at http://www.biblecollege.org)  included his blog, Captain’s Blog, in their list of Top 50 Ecumenical Blogs. So, it’s really an honor to have him here.

When I asked if he would be a guest blogger, Chad mentioned that wanted to share his heart, and I hope you soak in his contribution.

Leave your comments, afterwards, and show him what a polite readership I am fortunate enough to have by visiting his site, and to say “thank you.” 

Chad, Thank you!

I Want You to Want Me

-Chad Estes

        What we learned on the schoolyard playground seems to hold true in life. Those with the mad skills are the ones in demand. Those who can’t keep their eye on the ball, or catch an easy pop fly are picked to play right field and bat at the end of the order. This peer rejection is like the sting of a wasp, and unless you get off the field, you will probably get hurt by the same stinger, over and over again. 

    Adults play this same game. We want to team up with those people who benefit us, and help us win. We do this in business and in social circles. We even do this in church. Those on the outside of our margins–because of divorce, financial status, education levels, or addictive behavior issues, maynot be the first ones invited to our home fellowships. It isn’t their children that we invite to spend the night with our children. 

   But actually my thoughts about rejection aren’t about being picked last; it is the rejection that comes from being picked first. 

What? 

Yes, there is also a rejection issue with being picked first on a team because, more often than not, you are being picked for what you can do instead of who you are.  

     This is acceptable as long as you can keep up with the performance levels, but if your stats ever start to stumble, so will your value to the team. 

     It would be nice if this didn’t happen in Christian circles but unfortunately, it does.

Many churches and ministries recruit to a position based on a person’s perceived contribution value (Do they have good speaking skills? Can they lead a team? Do they agree with my direction? Will they serve this vision?) like it was written on stone tablets. But, when recruiting is all based on performance there will be a day when those skills will slip, or someone, even more qualified will come along. And when our positions are challenged, we may resort to some sort of spiritual steroids to help keep us on the field of play. The bad thing is these unnatural growth hormones actually stunt spiritual development It’s a cheap trick. 

       Today, I had a meeting where I was being recruited because of my ministry skills. But, as I drove home, I realized I was actually feeling the sting of rejection even though I’d been offered a position. The recruiter wasn’t really interested in me as much as she was interested in what I could do for her. She doesn’t really know me, nor does she know my heart. And unfortunately with her priorities all about her vision, she never will take the time to know what my heart is about. And so though it is a heady offer, it is a path that leads to performing, pretending, and pain. 

       My real value is my heart, not my skills. The skills are deteriorating with age. My heart is in the process of being renewed.

                  What I really want out of this life is to be picked by someone to be on their team, or be their friend not, because I’m a good player, or that I fit a niche, but simply because they want to be with me.

How about you?

• Which rejection hurts you more—the kind from not being included, or the kind from being selected for performance-based reasons?
   
• What do you suggest are ways to build relationships outside of these judgments and expectations?