Life as a canvas

I, like so many others, am one on a journey.  As a man who, at best, is in a state of constant spiritual curiosity, ever thirsty for knowledge and, at worst, indecisive and flippant, I am always on the look out for organizing principles.  However, as a poster child for the post-modern milieu, I have at times had an aversion to the codifying of faith and life into a non-integrated, linear set of theological propositions designed to classify my place in the big picture of Christian dogma.  Statements of faith, as needful and helpful as they are merely portray details of the tapestry; those main threads that bind the tapestry together and create a pattern. The beauty in the context of the body of Christ is that these statements, non-integrated though they may be, can provide the basic threads of the faith – the common threads – that unite all Christians.

Taken as a whole and seen from God’s perspective, this tapestry is a portrayal on fabric of one’s essential “picture” to the world.  Threads of differing colours and weights for different purposes are woven at ninety degree angles to one another, providing multiple cross-roads at each meeting place.  Lacking meaning by themselves and lacking the creator’s perspective, these threads can quickly lose hope, finding themselves at crossed purposes and conflictually related.  At micro level each thread travels a continuous forward road sometimes above its perpendicular counterparts perhaps with an accompanying sense of pride, accomplishment and clear vision.  At other times, life is submerged and “under the surface” as the creator allows other colours to predominate.

Life is a canvas.  Broad brush strokes upon newly prepared canvas provide the ethos and essential feel of the finished work.  The predetermined size of the work allows the canvas to be stretched and prepped for that which is to emerge.  Location, location, location – as in real estate, so in art, the placement of the canvas ensures adequate light pragmatically to the artist as well as proper light artistically for the ensuing endeavour.  The artist works quickly at first seeking to get on canvas the basic structure of the vision which prompted the painting in the first place.  As the vision unfolds, smaller, more painfully intricate strokes occur leaving vast portions of canvas untouched for long periods.  No brush stroke is less important than the other.  Each one a promise fulfilled toward the unfolding masterpiece.

Contemporary Christianity with its love for the corporate America constructs of vision statements, leadership gurus, definitions and strategies has sometimes fallen prey to “we are our vision statement” reductionism.  In other environments lacking the redemptive pressures of the gospel to the contrary, these become designs for “getting everyone on the same page” – a bottom line for the bottom line so to speak.  The unfortunate ramifications of a purely rationalist paradigm in such matters (clearly the love of post-Enlightenment humankind) is a lusting for unanimity rather than a move toward diversity in unity.  After all, homogeneity is easier to control and quantify.

With all of that as precursor I must say that writing a personal mission statement has been one of the most meaningful undertakings of my entire adult life.  Although not a complete picture of the tapestry unfolding, it has acted nonetheless as an important organizing principle for my life in general terms. It has also acted as a helpful guide in my own spiritual formulation.

I’ve often questioned whether spiritual formation can ever be “offered” as such, believing that it can only be “encountered.”  However, I am pleased by the resurrection of the terminology in post-modern thinking to describe this goal of the redeemed life.  It is a classical Christian perspective on one’s continual conversion, incarnationally, into the person of Jesus Christ.  Unfortunately, “discipleship”, has become its modernist, Descartian counterpart, by contrast more suggestive of a mental assent to universally agreed upon systems of thought and doctrine birthed in rationalism.  It, for me, has often been the clearing house for “believe this and all shall be well” data-driven Christianity.

God’s personhood and redemptive action (and by extension, my own) work both in and through the worshipping ecclesia. As God’s physical voice in the world, we are, clearly and hopefully, to state God’s loving intentions without the typical “mighty speak” rhetoric which can have the effect of bull’s eye Christianity loudly declaring who’s in and who’s out.   A progressive orthodoxy, diversity in unity, and holistic sensibilities are what encourage me. If that is what the church is about, count me in.

God with skin

Christianity is a lived reality, not just an idea.

It is also something shared. Faith is a communal notion. It was never intended that we be individual ivory towers of righteousness. Rather, we are made strong in community with others whose gifts and strengths augment our own; where our weaknesses are rendered small and insignificant in light of the strengths of those around us who also name the name of Christ. This is about that – the Body of Christ, or as Ronald Rolheiser says, “God with skin.”

At times, our bodies work well. At other times, not so well. For example, we may be on the mend from a broken leg but still suffer migraine headaches. Or perhaps we suffer from rheumatoid arthritis but our minds are keen and sharp, providing clarity and wisdom for others.

When two friends know each other intimately they share life and joy even when they hold to very different views on topics. A husband and wife will often finish each others’ sentences. They think as one. They act as one. They live as one. Two old lovers can sit silently in front of the fireplace, he with pipe and paper, she with pillow, knitting and the cat on their lap and say everything that needs to be said without speaking a word. They say everything without a sound. Their relationship has been forged in the crucible of life and experience and suffering and overcoming and failure and time. Its richness is seen in the ability to simply be in the presence of the other without pretense or embarrassment or expectation.

At certain periods in our relationships, be they childhood friendships, a husband or a wife, or spiritual kin in the family of Jesus, there will be times of celebrating newness. A child is born – we celebrate a new life. What kind of parent would we be if we never rejoiced in the little successes of our children? Two people who, unknowingly perhaps, sought for each other for many years finally meet, fall in love and are united in marriage – we joyfully celebrate their new union. What kind of spouse would we be if we never voiced our appreciation and love for the one who shares life with us? A close friend whose chronic disease is finally brought under some measure of control and we see them laugh for the first time in years – we celebrate new life. A young woman dogged by years of career failure finds her niche in a new job discovered “by accident” – we celebrate her newly resurrected self-awareness and pride of place. What kind of local church would we be if we never took time to champion the selfless efforts of our brothers and sisters?

What indeed.

In the name of the “God with skin”…

Hippolytus or Willow Creek?

It seems to me that, wherever one hears conversations about worship and music, three words rise to the top of the lexicon: contemporary, traditional, and blended.

“Blended”. Hmm, what a strange word! It sounds so…, well…, grey and porridgy to me; kind of like a colorless mush which leaves nobody happy, everyone confused, nobody satisfied, and everyone wanting more of what they call contemporary, traditional, or this or that, or…whatever.

“Contemporary”. Hmm, whose contemporary I wonder? How contemporary does it need to be to attain “contemporary” status? How long before that contemporary is traditional, neo-classical, neo-traditional, or God forbid, retro?  If I play a U2, Coldplay, or Metallica song on flute, cello, and harpsichord, is it still contemporary? Ask my 14 year old what he considers contemporary and you will receive a vastly different answer than if you ask even a classmate with whom he shares a lunch table!

“Traditional”. Hmm, what traditional I ask? Presbyterian traditional? Reformation traditional? Augustinian traditional? European-post-Enlightenment-Victorian-dead-white-guy traditional? Grandma traditional? What if I sing a brand new song in a old style? Is it contemporary or is it traditional? How about singing an old song in a new style? Is it traditional or is it contemporary? What do I call it when I sing the folk songs of Ireland, Scotland, Wales, or French Canada? What if I sing them with a Beatles style backbeat? Where does contemplative music fit in to the picture?

As you can plainly see, I struggle with the terms of the equation as much as the next person. As I continue to wrestle through these matters, I’ve come to believe, increasingly, that personal preferences, consumer mindset, the commodification of Christianity, our love in the West for arguments based on logic, and a certain sense of entitlement all play a significant role in how we think of worship these days. In the present milieu traditional often means “I know it. I’m comfortable with it. Don’t mess with it.”  Conversely, contemporary generally means “it’s hip, user-friendly and asks little of me.” It is culture-driven with the inevitable result of dumbing down the great universally stretching themes of the gospel.  Blended can sometimes mean that we struggle to pull both together into one stew often at the expense of authenticity or believability in either.

Imagine if we were neither traditional nor contemporary? These are linear terms born of a pendulum mindset. What if, as the post-moderns like to say, we discover the future through the past?  Writer and preacher, Tom Long, refers to a methodology of convergence worship. That is, the creation of something entirely different utilizing the tools at our disposal. He suggests that most church-goers see worship life in one of two categories: The Hippolytus Factor (looking back; for us) or The Willow-Creek Factor (looking forward; for them).  How incomplete each of these are on their own should be self-evident.  Stoic, elitist, naval-gazing, versus white-bread-‘n-apple-pie-Ken-‘n-Barbie worship.  Both offer something while not being complete in and of themselves. The late Robert Webber, utilizing the language of ancient-future, suggests that we can best approach a blended-contemporary model as contextualized through ancient liturgical formats.

One of the reasons I understand worship in more liturgical these days is that it pre-dates our musical preferences by quite some time.  It also helps to remove us from the prevalent ideology that worship=music.  Moreover, in liturgy, whether our music be contemporary, traditional, or blended we become completely involved rather than sit and soak in the presence of incessant “talking heads”; pursuing an incarnational Christianity versus a merely presentational Christianity.

It is much easier to simply divide and conquer – split everyone up on the basis of consumer preferences so that one can say, “I go to the ‘retro-post-hippie-progressive-emo-goth-industrial-death-metal’ service for the 18.5-22.25 year olds”. For better or worse, Westminster Presbyterian Church whom I serve is seeking to bring everyone under the same roof, at the same time, to worship the same God, in the same hour, using all the best, most excellent, most diverse, and most life-changing elements we can find to deepen souls and build the kingdom of God.  Everyone sacrifices something to be together on a Sunday morning.  Albeit we live with a higher base line of discontent, we believe this to be a more accurate picture of God’s kingdom.

Essayist Annie Dillard likens worshipers to children.  She states, we are “children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning.”  Regardless what position we take on matters of worship, we need not be oblivious to the fact that “the One whose presence we so casually invoke summons the creation out of nothing, commands the moon and the stars to sing, shatters kingdoms and brings tyrants to their knees, shakes the foundations of the world, and causes the earth to melt at a single word.” She continues, saying “ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews.  For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense.”

When all is said and done, “we need to remind ourselves”, states Tom Long, “that even when Christian worship is at its best, it is…always the work of amateurs, people who do this for love, kids in the kitchen overcooking the prayers, half-baking the sermons, and crashing and stumbling through the responses on the way to an act of adoration.” These days, I’m much more interested in discussions which revolve around the philosophy of ministry and Trinitarian theology than about music preferences in a worship service; questions of ethos or style or appropriateness or whether something is glib or elitist. Let’s keep talking about the WHO and WHY than the WHAT and HOW.  Beloved, herein lies the rub; irrespective of where we are on any worship pendulum, we need to turn our eyes inward toward self-abasement and upward toward heaven’s unspeakably glorious but eternally forgiving God.

On the journey together, Rob

The art of words

Gerard Manley Hopkins. John Donne. Wm. Shakespeare. Christina Rosetti. Emily Dickinson. Paul Simon. Bono. Since I was a very young lad growing up in Calgary, Canada, I’ve had a love affair with language; specifically the art of words. Words spoken. Words written. Words read and re-read, like ingesting food for the eyes that gets digested in the heart. In the holistic sense of the term, words are sensual. They are meant for more than simply corralling ideas or channelling information. They can and should be beautiful for their own sake. Carefully chosen and meted out in gradual succession like adding the correct ingredients in proper order to the perfect meal, words are part of the whole and greater than the sum of their parts. They massage meaning into our spiritual skin, perking up our inner ears to hear what our unseen lover whispers in our unguarded moments.

The Christian life is more poetry than prose; more a wild garden than suburban lawn. To that end I share this brief poem:

am

Day kisses night

on its way to dawn,

soon to draw her droplets

of dew, the sap of hope lain low

on earth’s misty treasure.

Morning meets hollow,

Sullen, soaked in the sallow,

dimpled winter, Spring

taps impatiently her shoulder

cold, but waiting, back turned

to face of the new.

I sit

Sit with her in hard patience

Awaiting promise of ante-meridian

Resurrection.

Welcome.

Welcome to innerwoven, a place to discuss matters related to the Christian spiritual journey. Specifically, my interests lie in the many places of intersecting dialogue among worship, the arts, liturgy, and spiritual formation. As both a church music director (Yakima Covenant Church, Yakima, WA) and a graduate in spiritual formation and leadership (Spring Arbor University, MI) these are for me, increasingly, matters of genuine excitement. More selfishly, it is a place to share my circuitous journey of faith and the ways I’m seeing God in my world. In the world.

This is a safe place to be where all discussion is good discussion inasmuch as it strives unto mutual respect, love and understanding. Denominational baggage…please leave it at the door upon entering. But when you do, do so with my warm invitation to share this journey with me.

Pax Christi, Rob

A longing fulfilled

On August 28th, 2008, I began a journey 20 years in the making – I started my Master’s degree. What am I studying? I’m glad you asked. I am taking a Master of Arts in Spiritual Formation and Leadership. It is an online degree through Spring Arbor University in Michigan. Responses I’ve received have ranged from mild curiosity to deep fascination to turned up noses! So, why that and why now? Again, thanks for asking.

A favorite Rife family rock band, U2, wrote a chart topping song in the 80’s called, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”. Since Bono, their lead singer, was widely known to be a Christian, they received much bad press from the church for not speaking in more definitive terms about their experience of faith. However, it was something deeper that he was singing about. Like Bono of U2, ever since I can remember I’ve had a similar unfulfilled longing. You know that gnawing ache inside when you are standing in front of the refrigerator eyeing all the possible ways to deal with it? You can’t sit still. You’re bored but don’t know why. Nothing you do makes any difference. Augustine called it a restlessness. Ah, I knew you were going to ask that…yes, I do know and love Jesus Christ and his loving presence is everything to me. Then, why this “unfulfilled longing”? Let me briefly try to explain and in so doing describe why I’m studying this stuff.

I love the Church. But it makes me sad as well. I believe that we have abdicated our role as “God’s skin in the world” (see “The Holy Longing” by Ronald Rolheiser). Our mad dash toward relevance has squeezed out significance. Our insistence on just the right doctrine has left us with all the wrong lives. We’ve traded in righteousness for “rightness”. We have exchanged transformed lives for informed heads. Often, what passes for faith is a “notebook Christianity” where, with pen and paper, we learn God rather than love and live God. We study and memorize Scripture trying to control and tame God rather than being read by Scripture, thus being brought under its control. We have taken our risen, ever-living Savior and boiled him down to an idea or a worldview. We have a theology divorced from spirituality.

Says Dallas Willard, “we live from our heart.” Jonathan Edwards, the great 18th century Congregationalist pastor and theologian spoke much of “religious affections” which provide us with a “spring of action.” Willard calls the lack of real spiritual formation in the Western church “the Great Omission..  THAT is what I am studying.

I love Jesus Christ. I love the church. I love the rich and varied tapestry of Christian history and I love classic Christian spirituality. I have a longing to help all of us who are victimized by a materialistic, consumer society but who hunger after deeper realities to find wholeness and the re-integration of our fragmented lives. My own life mission is “to draw others to God through my life and work which strive to meaningfully communicate God’s beauty and truth.” Through worship, spiritual disciplines, liturgy and the arts my goal is to become the very Jesus we sing about and help others do the same.

Writer and theologian M. Robert Mulholland defines spiritual formation as “the process of being conformed to the image of Christ for the sake of others.. May God lead us to discover all the riches of Christ in order that we are conformed to God’s image for the sake of others. THAT is what I long for.