happy haiku friday!

sitting in my cube

lead me to a sacred space

pay sprint bill at lunch

and now for something completely different...

i just agreed to interview john eldredge on october 12. in order to prepare for the interview, john requested that i climb mount washington, canoe the snake river and run five miles of the appalachian trail stark naked. by the end of this experience, i'm going to be so wild. i am MAN, hear me roar!

longing to be stoic, yet so damn emotive

i have no desire to be tossed this way and that by every wave of emotion. but, in all honesty, i usually am. while this realization is nothing new, it is usually something i am able to suppress. but not today.

earlier this week, the only other home church in our network decided to officially disband. our personal relationship with the remarkable families and individuals in this church will continue, but their church will cease to exist.

thus, the network formerly known as 'city on a hill' will cease to exist. sinners and saints is on its own and it feels like we're performing on a trapeze and preparing to fly without a net. henri, at this point i would love to say that i am fully trusting the catcher, but it is far more accurate to say that i am filled with fear.

i am afraid that i am unable to lead a home church, much less create a new network.

i feel like at some point i stopped walking with you and started to work for you. hence, i hardly have the character that befits an elder.

i realize that you can, but fail to believe that you will, transform the dying seed that was 'city on a hill' into an organism that is glossy with new life.

yet, with trembling hands i receive the new task you have set before me. fill me with your Spirit, so that i might participate in, and help guide, a community that is engaged in your mission. once again, i ask you to bring life out of death and to call something that is not as though it were. Lord, i really don't want to fuck this up. help me, help me, help me.

avoiding work, yet still pimpin' product

last week i had the opportunity to interview doug pagitt of solomon's porch. we had the opportunity to talk about his excellent reimagining spiritual formation and converse in the strangelanguage that is emergent speak. in the off chance that you would find the interview interesting, you can access it by clicking here. i will also be interviewing brian mclaren in late october. i'll post the interview when it's complete.

also, if you haven't already noticed, i really enjoy reflecting on the experience of the sinners and saints community. if you find those posts interesting, you should check out dr. james' post entitled 'finding a place for jim grace.' props to the doctor for providing an eyewitness account to the resurrection.

monday morning musing

i awoke this morning to evidence of a weekend well spent. the body of evidence included:

• 1 completed novel


• 2 torn ticket stubs for the door in the floor


• a half painted study


• a half primed bookcase


• 4 x-box controllers strewn across the living room floor


• 1 partially read, but wholly dismembered sunday edition of the globe


• 1 reconciled relationship


• 2 empty bottles of wine


• 2 empty boxes of prinzi's pizza


• 10 empty bottles of sam adams' octoberfest


• 5 empty bottles of harp


• 3 empty bottles of mike's hard limeade

as i spent the morning hours carefully cataloging, and then dispatching of , the evidence, i realized how each piece points to the presence of our community. due to this realization, the act of collection became not merely a task, but an embodied prayer of thanksgiving.

Remembering a Man Above Reproach

A reminder has been flying over my head for days as if to ensure that I wouldn't forget. On this day, in 1943, Preston A. Davis, my grandfather, flew his last mission over occupied France. Though his crew had completed more difficult assignments, including being a lead plane on the first Schweinfurt raid, a dead engine over Nantes, France led to their demise. My grandfather and three of his crewmates were captured on that very day and detained for the rest of the war. Three other crewmates were lucky enough to escape occupied France and make it back to Britain. And, tragically, three others were buried inside the burning B-17.

By his own admission, my grandfather was largely shaped by his wartime experiences. For it was his wartime experiences that made him aware of providence (only a minuscule number of airmen completed their tour of duty), tempered him with endurance and taught him that life itself (especially such luxuries as 45-minute showers!) is grace.

Preston A. Davis is not only my Pa-Pa, he is my mentor and my best friend. I thank God for him on this day.

happy haiku friday!

sitting in my cube

avoiding seminary

brushing and flossing

simkins' call, my response

if i keep my feet moving
  i'll never find a place to stand

i must submit to being planted
  and absorbing the nutrients of this land

but as soon as it's time to root
  i'm off and running with a start

for though He called me to be planted
  i'd rather serve my vagabond heart

my current coordinates

listening: iris dement's infamous angel. iris lays down tracks that are somehow overwhelmingly sentimental, yet still insightful. thank you, iris for providing more proof that you can take the boy out of oklahoma, but...

reading: john irving's a widow for one year. irving creates characters with such depth that you cannot help but be intrigued by their lives. his characters are both sinners and saints, capable of unmentionable sin as well as a willingness to forgive. i can only hope that i value the complexity of those in my community in the same way that he values the stories of his fictitious creations. i also relish the slight hint of buechner that i detect in his work.

thinking: about carving out time to finish irving's novel and the possibility that the cards peaked at the wrong time. also questioning why i've put off visiting the dentist for so long. i am a rabid anti-dentite, but i'm even more averse to root canals.

wondering: when krista is going to start a blog.

a confession, a commitment and an attempt to properly use the hyphen

first, a confession. as a teen i was a power tie sporting, state senate paging, card-carrying member of the young republicans. i was the youngest member of 'jed' wright's reelection team and considered myself an up and-and-comer in the dirty little business that is oklahoma politics. my extra-curricular activities in high school included protesting at abortion clinics, where i could barely conceal my contempt for and the violence i longed to inflict, upon those who held the other side of the line and trying to read newt gingrich's 'contract with america.' in 1994 i was a seventeen-year-old foot soldier in the republican revolution. i even had the rush limbaugh license plate frame to prove it.

then, in the spring of 1995 i enrolled in mrs. stitch's legendary writing and research class. stitch wasn't nearly as intimidating as advertised, but she did: relentlessly push me to develop my voice, heartlessly repossess my thesaurus (she didn't appreciate my discovery of 'ergo') and constantly harp about the length of my sentences. as we approached the conclusion of the semester she assigned the dreaded research project. she wanted us to develop a twelve to fifteen page thesis that showed original thought as well as a thorough grasp of mla style. since i was a battle hardened republican, still enamored with the capture of congress in 2004, and a lapsed but culturally committed christian, i chose to explore the virtues of the religious right. when i proposed my thesis to stitch at our teacher-student conference she fell somewhat short of rolling her eyes, but i could tell that she was less than enthused. she said that she hoped the research process 'left a mark on me.'

needless to say, it did. as i read the literature of the religious right and listened to the rhetoric of ralph reed, falwell and robertson, i found it hard to distinguish their approach from that of other special interest groups. i shared the religious right's position on many social issues such as abortion and the welfare system, but their tactics as well as their intent seemed to be somewhat less than christian. when i watched interviews and read articles with the leaders of this movement, i did not hear them speak words of love, but thought that i detected a lust for power. furthermore, as i began to consider their intent to reestablish judeo-christian morality through legislation, i began to question how their approach squared with the life and teachings of Jesus. as i thought about the latter, it seemed like they were either misinterpreting or ignoring Jesus' teaching about the Kingdom as well as, perhaps, expecting republican governance under the 'right' leaders to produce a form of salvation. needless to say, i was less than intrigued by what i found. quite quickly, my paper turned from a paean to the republican right into a critique that questioned their tactics and expressed deep suspicion of their intentions.

'why the long-winded story,' you ask. good question. this story illustrates how my political resolve has often been grounded on unsure convictions, if not mere opinion. once i took a good long look at the platform and personalities of the religious right, i questioned all of the slaving i had done on their behalf. the same thing happened later with the republican party as a whole.

now that i'm older, i don't find that i'm much wiser. i am still tempted to pick up the rhetoric of a party, in this case the democrats, and resolve myself to seek their ascension. in the midst of my current political fervor, i have also found myself as unable to sympathize with republicans as i once was with the pro-choice supporters who held the other side of the line. on more than one occasion, i have openly and, unfortunately, verbally questioned the intelligence of those who support the president. yesterday, i blatantly insulted a co-worker, fellow pastor and erstwhile bush supporter by considering him an illustration of p.t. barnum's dictum that 'one can never go broke underestimating the intelligence of the american public.'

i started with a confession and, in accordance with good ole' evangelical tradition, i am going to seal the deal with a commitment. i am committed to keeping my mouth shut regarding the particularities of american politics. i will not fail to speak out on behalf of my poorly-defined but deeply held values, but i will not engage in political partisanship of this blog. it is my prayer that i will also be able to set aside partisanship in my other interactions as well, but i am going to take things one step at a time. i intend to explore this commitment in greater detail at a later time. but for now, i need to get my ass back to work.

a post-confession comic

i found this comic in a books and culture issue a couple of months ago. it is used without permission.

coupland's confession

i've carried this confession around in my wallet for years. today, i really need to hear it. thought you might appreciate it as well.

"Now--here is my secret:

I tell it to you with the openness of heart that I doubt I shall ever achieve again, so I pray that you are in a quiet room as you hear these words. My secret is that I need God--that I am sick and can no longer make it alone. I need God to help me give, because I no longer seem to be capable of giving; to help me be kind, as I no longer seem capable of kindness; to help me love, as I seem beyond being able to love."

~douglas coupland, life after god

a stupid story for a fall morning

although a rebel at heart, i rarely skipped classes. during my time at soybean bible college, i never cut christian character and leadership to visit wrigley and wouldn't forego a monday morning greek class to go snowboarding with 'the community.' at the time i considered such fidelity a mark of character. now that i am more aware of my tendency to elevate task over relationship and realize how closely my identity is tied to achievement, i consider it conclusive evidence of narcissism. nevertheless, on that day it was not difficult for kevin to persuade me to cut. after all, our purpose was not merely male bonding, but religious mission, for on that crisp october morning dogma was to be released on dvd.

on the way up to the overgrown suburb that is bloomington-normal, kevin remembered that the berean bookstore was having a liquidation sale. since they had recently converted all of their sample tracks into mp3 format they were selling their scratched up sample cds for bargain prices. so, we stopped by berean on the way to best buy, hoping to find a couple of decent jewel boxes among the christian contemporary music rough. unfortunately, by the time we arrived the hordes had already descended, leaving nary a geoff moore or shitty smalltown poets album to be found. so, almost as quickly as our quest was diverted, we continued.

we arrived at best buy around 9:45, eager to pay homage to kevin smith with yet another purchase. unfortunately, best buy didn't open until 10. so we stood outside the store, sharing second hand jokes about britney spears and listening to a yuppie lawyer in a pant suit bark on her cell phone. just as the time was beginning to drag a shriveled old woman, in a long green gingham jacket and a purple beret started to shuffle by. i stepped off the sidewalk so that she could proceed, but she surprised me by stopping to talk. after she greeted me in customary fashion and i returned the favor, she looked at me through pale blue eyes and said "i'm 88!" "that's great" i replied, while internally wondering what stage of dementia she had stumbled into. "do you ever watch the rose bowl," she queried. "of course," i replied, "my family watches it every year." "that's where i'm from," she said! "pasadena," i asked by way of clarification. "yes, pasadena. during the war years i was a rosie the riveter out there. at the height of the war, we completed 4 million rivets a day." "that's great," i replied and added that my grandmother was also a riveter at a consolidated plant during the war. when she heard me mention my grandmother, she smiled, and i wondered where this little conversation would take us next, though i never could have suspected the turn it was about to take. "yes!" she said. "it was in pasedena that i learned to rivet, and it was in pasedena that i learned to yodel." she then snapped her head back and sang "yodel-lay-he, yodel-lay-he, yodel-la-he-hoo!" needless to say, after this outburst, my jaw dropped and i tried to look at kevin, who was clearly ignoring me lest he explode. the yuppie clicked her cell phone shut and began a cynical, staccato clap. and as quickly as she burst into song, the old lady stopped. she smiled and said, "i'm off to pay my phone bill now" and shuffled off in the same manner that she had arrived.

minutes later, best buy opened and we made our way inside. the purpose of our trip was confounded when the clerk told us that dogma had been delayed and i was dismayed when my back up purchase, oops, i did it again was marked well above expectation. however, as i realized immediately, and still believe today, that was one skip that was well worth it.

here's to Jesus, here's to you!.



photo courtesy of...

we find the time to do the things we want to get done,
  i proclaimed so haughtily to her.
i mentioned keys, bills and excel,
  she responded without a word.

this morning, in the damp quiet of the seven o'clock hour,
  as i sat with the scriptures, being primed for prayer,
i was pierced by the sharp edge of my statement
  and confronted by my most practical err.

i find time for bills, sweating the circle, even playing a little bond,
  but often ignore the draw of this sacred hour
  when i call and am called upon.

learning about labor, day

this weekend my parents came out to visit. the stated purpose of their visit was to help us put the condo together. so, with the foresight of an interior decorator that seems to be hardwired into most women, kellie planned for my dad and i to build a bookshelf for the study. no problem, i thought. after all, during college 'building' a bookshelf consisted of resting 2 x 4 x 8's on a pair of cinder blocks and in post-college it consisted of purchasing a couple of sauder quality bookshelves from target and hastily putting them together. of course, nothing could have been further from her mind.

when she determined last tuesday that the measurements of the bookshelf would be 6 x 8, thus covering the north wall of my study, i began to get a little worried. it was going to be a bigger undertaking than i expected, i reasoned, but nothing we couldn't complete in a day or, possibly, two. when my father and i spent two and a half hours carefully selecting and purchasing $200 worth of wood on friday night, i knew i was in over my head. when my dad spoke of me using the circular saw, which i had last seen being utilized as a weapon in Commando and had never used myself, i began to sweat.

now that my body is beginning to recover, on wednesday of the following week, i realize that my anxiety was warranted. over a (count 'em) four day period, my father and i built one of the most sturdy, spacious and, dare i say, impressive bookshelves that i have ever seen. i learned how to use the circular saw, a mitre box and a tape measure. and i learned, yet again, that when you are working with a man as industrious as my father, hemorrhaging mucus, upcoming sermons (i preached on sunday as well. how's that for planning?) and labor day picnics are no reason to stop working. thus, this september sixth, instead dominating yet another game of whiffle ball, i truly learned about labor. thanks for the lesson dad. you'll always be my blue collar hero.

discretion suggests that i leave the following incidents untyped. but the delirium brought on by the sudafed/alka-seltzer/claritin cocktail i've been sipping since the sawdust started flying has impaired my judgement. thus, i will do what i rarely ever do on this blog, tell a family secret...

my dad is a very articulate, well-spoken man. however, he has a problem pronouncing two words, hawaii, which comes out ha-YY, and peanuts, which is pronounced as though the 't' is silent. my beloved wife stocks peanuts for me to snack on and i indulge in them regularly since they are a part of my low-sodium diet. over the weekend, i got my atkins-loving father to partake in my practice as well, which, due to his pronunciation problem, led to the following, horrifying, statements:

when dr. james walked into the study and asked my dad how things were going the response was unintelligible. dr. j. politely told my dad that he could not hear him and asked him to repeat. my father, responding to james in kind, said "i'm sorry, i just had some peanu(t)s in my mouth."

later on in the evening, when dad's exhaustion was effecting his grammar, he looked staight at me and asked "hey jeff, where is your peanu(t)s?"

needless to say, both dr. j and i about died.

by the way...mom, i'd appreciate it if you keep the last part of this post between us.

a word of encouragement for those returning to work

"one who is slack in his work is brother to one who destroys."
~Prov. 18:9

happy haiku friday!

grandparents dying

parents in a.a.r.p.

time to be a man

i realize that this isn't much of a haiku, but it clearly reflects my current state of mind.

overheard...

"we learn to praise God not by paying compliments, but by paying attention. watch how the trees exult when the wind is in them. mark the utter stillness of the great blue heron in the swamp. listen to the sound of rain. learn to say 'hallelujah' from the ones who say it right."

~Frederick Buechner in Beyond Words

some days are essays, others incomplete sentences

today is one of the latter. thus, instead of a complete unit of coherent thought, i am going to share a couple of fragmentary thoughts and reflections.

i don't know whether it's the 32 ounces of equal exchange coffee pulsing through my veins or the faint scent of innovation, but for some reason i am interested in my job once again. when our company was recently sold from one brother to another i thought that business would proceed as usual. as is often the case, my assumptions were far from correct. someone up top is shaking the tree and coconuts are falling all over the place. we are in the process of reconsidering how to do everything from site design to spam, er..., i mean newsletters in a more effective way. for so, for the first time in this department their seems to be room for innovation. consequently, for the first time in months i am not tempted to drool on my keyboard. good times...

for the moment, my homiletical paralysis has abated. over the past four months i have had the damnedest time developing sermons. early on, i considered my condition a result of my spiritual apathy and context of transition (i.e., married eight months ago, new homeowner, fairly new job, sex change (just kidding), etc.). however, i have realized that my condition has abated when i write first person narrative sermons. thus, in my current three sermon series on the prodigal son, my narrative sermon from the perspective of the elder brother went swimmingly, my deductive sermon on the prodigal absolutely sucked and my narrative sermon on the role/call to be the father is developing quite nicely. i don't want to discount the influence that the small, yet distinct spiritual renewal that is taking place in my life and community is having upon me, but i think that the primary cause of the paralysis is a stylistic shift that is taking place in my preaching. i'll probably discuss this in more detail at a later date.

i've realized, once again, that one of the great temptations of church leaders is to exert power over the lives of the members. i thought that by checking out of the institutional structure i would have lessened this temptation, but i couldn't have been more wrong. in relational ministry there are constant opportunities to guide people towards personal decisions or commitments that would apparently serve the best interests, or lessen a burden upon the church, but would not be the best choice for the individual. i must constantly recommit myself to searching out what is best for that person and for the community rather than what appears to work best with my vision for our community. i am rambling and probably making little sense...but there is a big issue buried in there.

shit. this post is less a record of fragmentary thoughts than it is a collection of uncompleted essays. nonetheless i am going to let it go.

blessings upon you and yours.