Sing, Sing, Sing

My fondness for music goes back to my earliest days. I recall riding along in the car as a child, listening transfixed to Piano Man by Billy Joel. I also remember my father grading papers with the radio tuned to NPR, listening to classical music in all of its thunderous glory. I drank deeply of contemporary Christian music throughout high school. Steve Taylor, Phil Keaggy, Rich Mullins, as well as Amy Grant, Randy Stonehill, and Michael Card played the soundtrack of my life. Hip Hop and Country were two genres I could never embrace, even rappers and cowboys filtered through the Christian subculture which targeted sanitized versions of their music towards me and my friends.

I’m unsure when the change happened, sometime around my early twenties. I think one motivating force was a new movie. When Harry Met Sally was a tremendous film of course, but the music that gave the movie life introduced me to a whole new world that I have never successfully escaped. Big Band and swing music have been a part of my life ever since.

Glen Miller, Ella Fitzgerald, Harry Connick, Frank Sinatra, and Louis Armstrong have all made a substantial impression on me. The sheer joy and fun that these musicians are able to convey through their music has always downloaded directly into my soul. One of my absolute favorite songs is Sing, Sing, Sing. When done well, it is an instrumental performance that dares you to sit still while you experience it.

In this version by Benny Goodman’s band, watch the sheer exuberance of the drummer, the great Gene Krupa. Such music is, simply, inspired. I suspect that when we get to heaven, there will be as many songs performed from the Cotton Club as there are from the Baptist Hymnal.

Boundaries

For the last several weeks, we’ve been undertaking the laborious process of converting ancient VHS and miniDV tapes to DVDs. We’ve never done this before, so it’s been quite the challenge. The power supply on our ancient videocamera (purchased in 1995) no longer works, so I bought a replacement on Ebay for $15.00. A small price for videos, unseen for over a decade. So we’ve been enjoying a few hours each evening watching these videos and explaining to the kids who all the strangers in these videos are.

What does this have to do with Ministry Monday? One of the video tapes was an extended recording of Scooter’s second birthday. We had it at a local park in Waco and it was full of the normal chaos, screams and frivolity associated with such locations. One amusing side note to this party is that on two occasions, I forgot that the camera was on and the viewer gets vertigo from me carrying the camera at my side as I walked around the park. That’s the bad news. The good news is that the microphone was also on and so you could hear every conversation that I had with various family members.

But at the time, I was pastoring Lone Oak, and we invited several church members to the party. At one point in the party, you could hear me earnestly talking with this church member about some significant issue. I don’t recall exactly what it was regarding, but you can hear him expressing disagreement with the way I had handled something. Then you can hear me responding. It wasn’t so much an argument as it was a discussion over a difficult issue. Watching this video these eleven and a half years later, I am struck by one inescapable question:

WHY AM I DISCUSSING CHURCH ISSUES WITH A MEMBER AT MY OWN DAUGHTER’S SECOND BIRTHDAY PARTY?!?!?

(Sorry for all caps.) Looking at the tape through the lens of a decade’s experience, I am reminded of a desperate need for boundaries between pastor and church. If I could go back and have a conversation with Pastor Taran, I’d strongly suggest that he take a look at the boundaries he had set with his church. The line between church and family was too much a blur. I wish the younger Taran had said to the church what God said to the sea “This far you may come, but no further.” I don’t blame the man for the conversation, but I would like to wack my younger self across his forehead and say “What were you thinking?!”There is a lack of self awareness among many good meaning, Godly, well-spirited people in the church as to this issue of boundaries.

Pastors should set them early and often.

Ode to Bobby's Car

Digging around in the archives. Friday is for familys, except for today when its for friends.

One of my roommates from college (and frequent commentator here at Coffeespoons) is Bobby. In college, he drove around a 1982 Mustard Yellow Toyota Corolla that had seen better days. Held together by an unholy alliance of dirt and bondo, it consisted of dents, cracked windows, and chipped paint. (Completely unlike the one in the picture.)

One day (as I recall, Bobby will correct me otherwise) we went out from our apartment to discover that someone put a brand new dent in the vehicle. (Though frankly, in retropspect, I’m unsure that we could actually tell.) Anyway, at the time I wrote the following poem and read it to Bobby in a strongly exaggerated British accent. And for some reason, I saved it.

“Ode to Bobby’s Car on the Occasion of a Recent Accident” September 1990

O’ the certain servitude which thou hast rendered unto your lord.

And how noble was thy form and such color as was pleasing to the eye.

But now…Hark! A nick hath marred they unblemished brow, and a flaw has disrupted pure utter perfection.

Oh the hooliganism!

Oh the waste of it all!

Ye gods, why sleepest thou when such abominations as these cover the earth?!

Kings: A Review

As we’ve discussed around here before, part of the biblical text that makes it most enduring is how it is reread and refashioned in different contexts. For millennia, culture has taken and retold these stories. Perhaps the most recent example of how Biblical stories are updated is found in the newest dramatic series on NBC, Kings.

Kings retells the story of the David narrative in the books of 1 and 2 Samuel. It is set in the nation of Gilboa, a modern nation replete with cell phones, modern aircraft, and skyscrapers. Gilboa is ruled by King Silas, a man who has been a successful soldier in the past, but now is trying to lead his nation toward a time of peace. But that is complicated by the nation of Gath. Gilboa has been locked in a bitter war with Gath for several years. Recently arriving in his court is a young soldier, David Shepherd, who has recently become a national hero.

David single handedly faced down an enemy supertank (the Goliath, natch) and rescued several soldiers. One of the soldier he rescued turned out to be the crowned prince of Gilboa, Silas’ eldest son Jack. In appreciation for his impressive service, Silas reassigns David to his court in the capital city of Shiloh. Once there, David meets such impressive people as Michelle (the alluring daughter of King Silas), the Rev. Samuals, and General Abner. (Corresponding to Saul’s daughter Michal, the prophet Samuel, and ummm General Abner). I’ve only seen the first episode so far, but it’s like catnip for a Old Testament geek like myself. The details are pretty impressive . For example, David refuses to wear the flak jacket before taking on the tank (It wasn’t a good fit) and when the Reverend Samuels tells Silas God has rejected him and chosen another, Silas grasps his shoulder (though he doesn’t actually tear it). Not everything works. God’s divine favor resting on Silas is depicted by several butterflys that land on his head. Strange. Also, Silas insinuates strongly that Jonathon is gay, which adds a distracting edge to his impending friendship with David.

But the strongest reason I look forward to this series (they’ve already completed around 13 episodes or so) is that it deals forcefully with the reality of God in the lives of people. I expected that the characters would mention God very obliquely, if at all. But the main characters of David, Silas, and Samuals each speak explicitly to the central role that God plays in each of their lives.

David and Saul are two of the most fascinating characters in the Old Testament. Few other people in the Bible were as capable of such incredible acts of butchery and destruction as these two. But one of them was hand-picked to be the first king of Israel, and the other was a man after God’s own heart. They are compelling figures in any age and time.

Each of the first two episodes are available online at NBC. Watch the rest of the season on (naturally) Sunday evenings.

A Contrast

"Let every student be plainly instructed, and earnestly pressed, to consider well that the maine end of his life and studies is to know God and Jesus Christ which is eternall life, Jn. 17:3 and therefore to lay Christ at the bottome, as the only foundation of all sound knowledge and Learning."


Mission statement of Harvard College, 1643

The Puritans, Perry Miller and Thomas Johnson, (New York: American Books, 1938) p. 702.



"In a contentious Feb. 26 deposition between Dr. Biederman, a Harvard professor, and lawyers for the states, he was asked what rank he held at Harvard.



“Full professor,” he answered.


“What’s after that?” asked a lawyer, Fletch Trammell.


“God,” Dr. Biederman responded.


“Did you say God?” Mr. Trammell asked.


“Yeah,” Dr. Biederman said."

New York Times, March 20, 2008.




Times change.

From the Archives

I came across some old poems and writings the other day. On Nostalgia Tuesdays , I'll post a few of the least embarrassing ones. (And yes, you'd be amazed at the poor quality of what I'm not posting!). As you'll be pleased to note, I've been remarkably pretentious for around three decades now.

2-27-90
"It's nine o'clock on a Saturday,
The regular crowd shuffles in,,
'There's an old man sittin' next to me
Makin’ love to his tonic and gin"

I turned off Billy Joel in mid-verse as I pulled my truck into the school's back lot, and for a few minutes I just sat there in silence, examining the playground. Here I was, sitting in the back of Nell Burks Elementary school after "graduating" over ten years before. As I climbed out of the suburban, I noticed the bicycle tracks in the winter grass, and smiled faintly recalling how my own bike's tracks used to criss-cross the grass as well. In 1980 my family moved from McKinney, Texas to a different town so that my father could start his new job. This visit was my first time to return to the school-yard of my youth.

As I walked across the playground it became obvious that many things had changed. There was now a chain-linked fence that wound its way around the perimeter of the schoolyard. New equipment replaced the (OSHA mocking) aging jungle-gyms and slides that I remembered so fondly. Despite these changes, though, the playground still felt the same.

In the center of the area, I noticed a familiar spot of dark earth whose grasslessness attested to its popularity as the center of recreational activity during recess. Walking on, I kicked an empty crayon box forgotten and flattened by careless students. The box and I shared the lonely Saturday schoolyard of my youth and I lamented the passage of time and the ending of schooldays.

I went over to the slide that I had played upon as a youngster. It didn't look as tall, or as foreboding as I remembered. Looking quickly around and vereifying my solitude, I reached out for the two hand rails. Climbing the ladder, I noticed two worn spots on each step and tried to imagine the thousands of little feet that had scampered up in excited expectation of the trip down. As I reached the top, I could survey the entire schoolyard.

For a second. . .for a second, the yard was again filled with children and I could see the
playground monitor motioning for me to slide down, so that others could go.

Then I slid down, closing my eyes as the wind rushed around me, thrilling in the exhilaration of the moment until the short ride with the impact of my feet on the dirt at the bottom of the slide. At first I blinked in the brightness of sunlight. I sat still for a moment, savoring the thoughts of
another time and another place. A place too far away for me ever to return to.

As I got in the truck to leave, I thought of Heraclitus who said: “The same man cannot walk through the river twice, for the next time he does, both the man and the river will have changed."

Heraclitus was wrong. I turned on the tape recorder as I slowly drove out of the playground.

"He said 'Son can you play me a memory,
I'm not really sure how it goes,
But it’s sad and its sweet I knew it complete,
When I wore a younger man’s clothes.'"

Pieces of the Puzzle

I’m unsure of what metaphor to use for the Intentional Interim Minister’s job. In training I was told that our job was like a private investigator’s (except no crimes been committed). We would come in, ask a lot of questions, formulate a theory as to why certain events occurred and then execute a plan to solve the church’s problem. I’ve also conceived of the metaphor of CSI (except no one’s dead). What each metaphor shares is an attempt to recreate a series of events that brought the church to its present point. After this is achieved, the IIM will then help the church to deal with any lingering issues and then move on.

But each of these metaphors presents a problem: the focus is on the IIM and what he can figure out. With these metaphors, what is the role of the church in this situation? Is it to sit around and wait for the IIM to answer all of the questions? Clearly a fresher approach is needed.
I’ve been mulling over (and using with Pecan Grove) the metaphor of a puzzle. The current church is like a puzzle with various pieces scattered around. There are lots of pieces to this puzzle, and I don’t know what (or where) they all are. So I’m depending upon the members of the church to share them with me and then to help me put them together to form a coherent narrative about how the church has arrived where it is.

But this puzzle isn’t the kind you put together by yourself. It’s more like putting a puzzle together over a vacation with the rest of your family. The more eyes you have on the puzzle, the more likely you are to have a solution. And the faster it goes.

In order to help identify the pieces, I’m setting up a series of listening groups with different members of Pecan Grove. This last Sunday, I put out sign-up sheets for several periods of time that last about an hour each. I asked the church to sign up at one of the times on Sunday afternoon in groups of nine or ten. Two of the senior adult classes told me that it would be difficult for them to come back up on Sunday afternoon, and they asked if I could meet with their classes during the Sunday School hour. These groups will start meeting on this coming Sunday.

For each group, I’m going to ask two questions: First, on a scale of one to ten, with one being utterly demonic and ten being heaven-on-earth, how would you characterize the current state of Pecan Grove? Second, what do we need to do to move higher up the scale? Essentially, I see this as performing a SWOT analysis and getting the church members to participate in identifying what is working well, and what is not working well in the life of the church.

Review: Don't Let Me Go!

Don’t Let Me Go is a wonderful exploration of the relationship between David Pierce and his teenage daughter Chera. Somewhat on a whim, David and his daughter decided that they would climb Pike’s Peak, despite never having moved much beyond the comforts of the couch in their living room. After climbing the mountain (and experiencing numerous obstacles) they decide to continue undertaking several challenges that included running in marathons and culminating in an attempt to climb Mount Rainier. As they overcame these various physical obstacles, they grew even closer together. It made their last four years together before Chera went off to college deeper and more meaningful. The book ends in a poignant moment as Chera must face the last (and greatest) challenge with Dad as a spectator.

As Pierce shares the present day story of his daughter, he also narrates the past mountains he faced in his own childhood. He tells the story of a distant and alcoholic father and his own search for God throughout a difficult childhood. The contrast between his own upbringing and the way he raises his child is light years away.

This was a tough book for me to read. Squealer, at 13, is precisely the age that Chera was in the beginning of the book. Pierce models the kind of parent that I think most anyone would want to be. Certainly he presents himself in the best light possible (that never happens here at Coffeespoons;) but Pierce models the kind of involved, caring parent I aspire to be.

(Spoiler Alert)The book ends with Chera getting married (thus morphing the tale into, as Bowden would say, a “horror story”). David is made all too aware that the mantra he repeatedly told himself while he and Chera were on mountains (“Don’t let go!”) had to change, as the minister told him to place his daughter’s hand into the hand of her husband and then to “Let go!” Good grief! (End Alert)

Overall, this book expands beyond the story of one father and one daughter to include all fathers and daughters. This is the mark of an memorable piece of literature. You start off thinking about this character and their relationships and end up meditating upon your own. I recommend this work highly.

Squealer is 13 and goes off to college in four years. The clock is ticking…

(I have one extra copy. Whomever first tells me which Southern Baptist seminary I attended gets it.)

Spring Break

A week "off" filled with a list of honey-do's, leaves little time to blog. Today we spent painting the outside of the house, already looking forward to returning to work next week!

Nostalgia Animals

After taking Squealer to the doctor last week and forced to sit through an entire viewing of Milo and Otis in the waiting room, I was reminded of how many animal shows I watched as a kid. Here are the intorductions to the two I enjoyed the most.

Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom
(Note Marlin Perkins sniffing the wind like a prairie dog).




Daktari





It wasn't an animal show of course, but no one did animals better than Johnny

Crazy, Crazy 2

I mentioned last week that Ed Young performed an exceptional service for ministry types (or frankly, anyone who deals with people) by identifying characteristics of crazy, crazy people. Here are 8-13. You can tell crazy people because:



9. They dress in the full uniform of the team they cheer for. Shoulder pads, helmet, the whole nine yards.



10. They always talk about their dysfunction. They marinate in their difficult kids, their loveless marriage, their awful job situation.



11. They have crazy pets. "If your cat is jacked up, you are crazy."



12. They answer the phone ‘mmmmyellow?’



13. After you finish speaking, they are the first people who come up to you, but the last ones to speak. That way they get your undivided attention.





What would you add to the list?

The House of the Sick

Squealer has been sick throughout this week. Influenza A. “That’s the most contagious kind!” the doctor’s assistant informed us in a chirpy voice. He’s been home all week, feeling pretty beat down. When Scooter arrived home Tuesday, he was lying on the couch with his eyes closed, but not asleep. Just feeling awful. Scooter said “It really doesn’t feel the same around here without Squealer running around destroying everything.”

Indeed.

But she’s right of course, the house of the sick doesn’t feel right for the whole family. Whenever one of us goes down, things are out of sync until they revive. I would expect that to be true for the parents, but its interesting to see that its true for the kids as well. There is a certain stability, a routine we fall into. When the family is firing on only four, instead of five cylinders, it’s not the same.

I’ve been reminded this week of one time when I was sick, around the age of five or six…exactly the age of Squealer right now. I had some severe illness that prevented me from holding down any liquid, and I remember being desperately thirsty. For some reason beyond my understanding, Mom and Dad wouldn’t give me any water. I couldn’t (or wouldn’t?) connect the dots between drinking liquid, and then ummm….undrinking it a few minutes later.

So I recall sneaking out of bed one night and beginning the process of crawling down the hall to the bathroom. I knew that a cup of cool, cool water awaited. But shortly before I reached the oasis, my father silently walked up behind me, scooped me up and carried me back to bed. He again patiently explained why I couldn’t have any water. I wonder how many of these evenings Squealer will remember. The way he's feeling, I hope not many.

Review: How to Argue Like Jesus

Sometimes I receive a book I request for a review and wonder “Why did I ever request this book?!” Such was my feeling when I opened the packaging for How to Argue Like Jesus by Joe Carter and John Coleman (Crossway, 2009). I expected another book that carefully explained how the views of Jesus happened to coincide with the views of the particular author and now the reader should spread these views a bluntly and confrontationally as possible.

Happily, I was very much surprised by this work. Carter and Coleman focus on the art of communication in this book. They spend the majority of the work, exploring the rhetoric of Jesus in the gospel accounts, and locating his rhetoric within the context of Aristotle’s analysis. For example, they discuss the concepts of pathos, ethos, and logos and cite several examples from Jesus’ teaching that reinforce these concepts. The authors also use Jesus’ discussions with opposing religious officials to highlight their usage of various rhetorical fallacies.

After their focus on Jesus’ logical argumentation, Carter and Coleman turn their attention from building the message to spreading the message and explore several contemporary examples of how churches follow the example of Jesus. Jesus engaged in discipleship, using his own material, and developing the first concept of cell groups. We should do the same. Following this section the authors include a couple of case studies of rhetorical analysis and a glossary of terms.

This is a helpful book, one that would be a nice addition for any preacher or teacher who devotes time to speaking in front of people. I recommend it. (But I would’ve changed the title. How to Communicate Like Jesus would’ve been a better one.).

Don't Do It!!

The Chronicle of Higher Education is the primary professional publication for higher education in the United states. Thomas Benton, one of its best writers, recently took up the question of how he advises his undergraduate students who are considering graduate school in the Liberal Arts.

The money paragraph:

“Nearly every humanities field was already desperately competitive, with hundreds of applications from qualified candidates for every tenure-track position. Now the situation is becoming even worse. For example, the American Historical Association's job listings are down 15 percent and the Modern Language's listings are down 21 percent, the steepest annual decline ever recorded. Apparently, many already-launched candidate searches are being called off; some responsible observers expect that hiring may be down 40 percent this year.

What is 40 percent worse than desperate?”


His advice to his students? “Just Don’t Go!”

Leningrad

I've been to St. Petersburg, Russia twice, once in college and once while in Seminary. In fact the first time I went (1991) it was Leningrad, the second time in 1994, the city had been renamed St. Petersburg. (I've mentioned my trip previously here). One of my most cherished possesions is the passport that I have stamped with the ominous CCCP of the Soviet Union (in red ink of course!).





Leningrad was the site of one of the most monstrous of battles during WWII. Nazi troops laid seige to Leningrad for close to 900 days before the seige was broken. I came across a series of pictures contrasting modern St. Petersburg with WWII Leningrad. Haunting.

Look here for more.

Crazy Crazy

A few weekends ago, I attended the C3 conference at Fellowship Church in Grapevine, Texas. Not having been previously exposed to Fellowship Church, or Ed Young I wasn’t sure what to expect. Our associate pastor asked me to go and I enjoyed it immensely. (Actually I enjoyed the preaching, the music wasn’t as enjoyable. But at least they didn’t paint anyone during the worship time).

One of the best sermons preached was by the aforementioned Ed Young. In his message, called “Crazy Pills” he distinguished between good crazy and crazy crazy. Good crazy he described as a focused passion on the positive things of faith. Tim Tebow and Jesus (natch) exemplify good crazy. But then he spent the rest of the sermon on crazy crazy people. By this he’s not talking about people who are clinically insane, or diagnosed with some particular disorder. Rather, those who can function just fine in society, but are in fact crazy crazy. He noted that there are a lot of crazy, crazy people out there and that most of them are attracted to churches.

This presents a problem for ministers, because they often waste their time working with, praying with, advising people who will in fact never change. Better to focus on those who are open to personal and spiritual growth. To more closely define the craziness he spoke about, he identified several characteristics of crazy crazy people. I’ll post his list this week and next. When he shared the list I thought “Yep, I’ve worked with him before.”

People who are crazy:

1. They have crazy eyes.

2 They are always playing the God card – ‘God told me to do this’ or ‘God told me you should do this’

3. They are constant name droppers

4. They always find a way to ‘one-up’ you – If you went to Olive Garden for lunch today, they will say ’ ‘Well, I flew to Tuscany last week on my private jet and ate a feast in a vineyard going back several centuries.’

5. They will blow up your phone. They will text you and email you all day long!

6. They ask for your advice. You spend time and energy and prayer preparing to give them the proper advice. AND THEN THEY DON"T TAKE IT!!!!!

7. They talk endlessly about themselves. Their conversations are scattered with I, I, I, me, me, me, mine, mine, mine.

8. They don’t have a filter. They speak whatever they think (and are proud of it!).

More next week.

Fridays are for Family

The Sunday I went to Pecan Grove in view of a call, the church requested that I bring the family to meet them and to give us a lunch fellowship. After the morning service, the church hosted a reception for the family, but asked me to stay in the sanctuary and answer questions. The kids went on to eat lunch while Kadie stayed with me until the Q and A ended. They asked us a lot of questions.

By the time Kadie and I arrived in the Fellowship Hall, the Scooter, Skeeter, and Squealer and were finished eating. Squealer was completely wired, so I asked Skeeter to take him into another room so that we could finish our meal and fellowshipping with people. She took him into the toddler Sunday school room down the hall from the Fellowship area and left him there to play.

After several minutes, I completed my meal and went to the dessert table to get some pecan pie (natch!) when I saw movement coming down the hall. It was Squealer. He was heading back down from the kids' classroom, coming back into the Fellowship hall. But he was walking very strangely, quite gingerly, as though he were walking across Niagara Falls on a tightrope with his arms out from his side. He was also looking down at the ground the whole time, but I couldn’t see what he was looking at. So I stepped over to the side so I could see down the hall at what held his attention in such a powerful grip. I immediately set down my pie as my eyes went down to his feet and what he was wearing on them.

A pair of pumps.

Purple Pumps.

Plastic Purple Pumps.

Princess Purple Plastic Pumps.

Apparently, the toddler room contained several princess outfits and Squealer had helped himself to a pair of princess shoes.Perhaps he heard my gasp, or sensed my inspection, because he looked up and our eyes locked in place. We both froze, uncertain how to proceed. Then, a devilish grin crossed his lips.

And he began “running” for the Fellowship Hall.


I didn’t want to yell at him from across the room (attention was the last thing I wanted) so I tried to walk/run to the doorway before he reached it.

And I almost made it.


He beat me to the doorway by a half step and shot into the fellowship hall. All eyes in the room turned toward him (plastic pumps are LOUD on a tile floor) as he dashed/slid into the middle of the fellowship hall in front of God (presumably) and everyone. There was a half second of shock as every brain in the room slowly processed this unexpected sight. Then the entire room erupted in laughter. And Squealer loved every second of it. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Squealer ended up right next to an aged deacon who looked him carefully up and down. The deacon then slowly turned to me and said:"Brother Taran, I've just thought of a few more questions I need to ask you before we vote."

Blog Note

It was brought to my attention by a reader that the RSS feed was only showing partial postings, requiring each person to click directly on the site to read the whole thing. This news surprised me greatly.

Mostly because I was unaware I had any readers.

I think I've successfully reconfigured the thingamajig (not to get too technical) and correctly tuned the doohickey.

You should be able to read the entire post from your RSS reader. I mean, you'd hate to miss posts like this one.

Two Reviews

Thursdays are for Reviews

In a previous post, I mentioned the difficulty that readers face in filling in the gaps of biblical texts. One of the great benefits of gaps is that it leaves a narrative space for creative reflection on the rest of the text itself. The artist is invited to dialogue with the text by carefully reading and noting these narrative gaps.

I recently received one artist’s attempts to creatively interact with biblical texts. After a recent review in which I noted the paucity of pink books on my bookshelf, Benjamin Potter graciously sent me two works which fill in some of the literary gaps in the infancy narratives of the gospel accounts of Matthew and Luke.

Something Special at Leonard’s Inn (Loom and Wheel Publishing, 1999) is the story of the birth of Jesus told through the eyes of the innkeeper in Bethlehem who let Joseph and Mary use a stable and the manger.

Just a Simple Carpenter: the Story of Joseph (Loom and Wheel Publishing, 2000) retells the same story from a different vantage point: the perspective of Joseph. In this work, Potter casts a wider net as he begins months before the birth of Christ and ends his story right after Mary and Joseph lose Jesus at the temple in Jerusalem.

I enjoyed each of these works a great deal and would recommend hem highly. I was reminded as I read them about the great challenge that we have as Christians to retell the Story to others and to ourselves. As we read the Christmas story year after year, it can become repetitive and comfortable. Potter resists the comfortable reading by engaging each text from the first person perspective. He fleshes out the characters of the inn-keeper and of Joseph with much care.

One consequence of Potter’s telling of these tales is that they are darker than the sunny Christmas story we set out on our lawns every December. As Potter rightly (writely?) notes, the splendor of the visit of the Magi is shortly followed by the (no doubt) desperate flight of the first family to Egypt before the murderous edict of King Herod.

And in Leonard, Potter reminds us that each of the peripheral characters in these narratives bring their attendant hurts and sorrows to these stories. The shepherds, the inn keepers, the wives, and the Magi were all genuine people with actual thoughts and feelings. Far from the two dimensional images we meet in Christmas pageants throughout December, they were real, actual people.

Each of these books remind us that the people surrounding Jesus shared sorrows and rages, pleasures and joys. Just like us.

Wednesdays are for Work (and Play)

Wednesdays will be Work or Play Day. I’ll attempt to find some bloggable material at the location where I spent the majority of my time, or from what I enjoy doing. Today, it’s all work.
A substantial reorganization was recently announced at our institution. It will involve the elimination of a few administrative positions and will rename several academic units across the campus. I don’t want to belabor the reader with the particular merits of the decision, but I do have a concern with how it was devised. The reorganization was developed by a small group of leadership and then announced to the larger campus in an email.

There are more similarities that you may think between communities of faith and academic institutions. One dysfunctional similarity is that a silo mentality can develop between leadership and the larger community. This mentality is especially strong in how leadership makes decisions and communicates ideas to the rest of the organization.

The situation plays out like this: out of a concern for negative feedback (or a feeling that feedback is unnecessary), leadership expedites the implementation process. When there is the predictable blowback after the decision is announced, leadership commends itself that it made the right decision and it was better to generate the feedback after the decision rather than before.

The primary problem with this thinking, is that it detaches the rest of the church or institution from the decision making process. Then when the organization depends upon the members of the congregation to carry it out, they often have nothing personally invested in the process and they don’t participate. By involving the congregation (or the rest of the organization) in the decision making-process, you get more buy in down the road.

Tuesdays are for Nostalgia

Somtimes looking back can be a good guide to the future. With the injunction of Ecclesiastes in mind, on Tuesdays I'll take a look back.

"The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is
done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun."
Ecclesiastes 1:9

One of the worst parts of parenting a thirteen year old is seeing the recycled teen culture that you thought you'd sucessfully escaped the first time around. This dawned on me again recently when Scooter showed me her new heartthrobs: the band called the Jonas Brothers. They are the most recent Disney singing group. Here's a fair representation of their work: Lovebug.







It bugged (sorry) me how familiar they were, but somehow I couldn't quite place them. Until finally it came to me. Yes, I distantly recall in the far recesses of my mind another long haired trio of brothers who took the teen demographic by storm. Regrettably, their video cannot be embedded (it has been disabled at their request, the punk kids). Perhaps they were embarassed by it.

As I told Scooter, enjoy the Jonas brothers, but don't blink or you'll miss them.