Craig Morton 4/4/13 Craig Morton 4/4/13

On God's Side: What Religion Forgets and Politics Hasn't Learned About S...

"Getting to what is good and what works, and get beyond what is left and what is right."

Craig Morton 3/20/13 Craig Morton 3/20/13

Listening to an Ass

There are times when I just don't want to listen anymore. Some bozo is blathering on about some issue, some hot topic, some rumor, some half-digested gristle of a bone-headed idea. Not only that, but this individual is passionate about it. And there are few things as irritating as the passionate pontificating of an an annoying ass.

I decided to look up on Google the answer to the question, "how do you spell the sound a donkey makes?" I was surprised to find the wiki.answers.com had the answer in over 20 languages. I guess there are pronunciations in other languages that just don't transliterate well.

For the Danish, the donkey says, "aeslet skryder" which would actually be pretty amazing. Apparently though, to most languages donkey's say something like "hee-haw". The inverted sounds of Ukrainian and Turkish donkey's undoubtedly make for some lame arguments as Turkish donkeys bray "a-iii, a-iii" while the contrary Ukrainian donkeys counter with "ii-aa, ii-aa." However the Hindi donkeys may be my favorite with their unique "si-po, si-po" (see wiki.answers for more).

Perhaps the best way to listen to an ass, is to figure out where it is from. Maybe Ukrainian donkeys pronounce things differently because of their experiences. The Scandinavian donkeys with their complex sounds may be some evolutionary derivation from long dark winter nights and the desire to talk about something else other than the same old same old.

Even an Ass Needs to be Heard

Somewhere along the way, we have to realize the ass will keep braying loudly, just so it can be heard. Even an ass needs to have a voice. But even more, maybe the lone voice of the one ass is actually the one voice that is most needed.

Several years ago I learned a consulting technique from Pat Taylor Ellison of Church Innovations. We had a process of gathering stories from a local congregation or parish. It was a form of local ethnography. We listened to the storied responses to key questions from which the congregation wanted to gain insight. The questions were always framed with appreciative inquiry in mind, so the "answers" were actually responses to prompts asking for stories.

In democratic societies, we tend to to think that which ever story or opinion is provided most often must be the correct answer, the most insightful answer. We tend to conflate the prevailing narrative into being the correct, important, or key narrative. But what I learned from Pat and the process she taught was that the lone voice with a unique story was important as well, and could actually be the most important voice to listen to.

That Braying Ass

In the story of Balaam, a non-Israelite prophet, we learn that he rides upon an unnamed donkey. It is the donkey here that is the hero of the story. In The Message, the story is told from Numbers 22:21-33

Balaam got up in the morning, saddled his donkey, and went off with the noblemen from Moab. As he was going, though, God’s anger flared. The angel of God stood in the road to block his way. Balaam was riding his donkey, accompanied by his two servants. When the donkey saw the angel blocking the road and brandishing a sword, she veered off the road into the ditch. Balaam beat the donkey and got her back on the road.

But as they were going through a vineyard, with a fence on either side, the donkey again saw God’s angel blocking the way and veered into the fence, crushing Balaam’s foot against the fence. Balaam hit her again.

God’s angel blocked the way yet again—a very narrow passage this time; there was no getting through on the right or left. Seeing the angel, Balaam’s donkey sat down under him. Balaam lost his temper; he beat the donkey with his stick.

Then God gave speech to the donkey. She said to Balaam: “What have I ever done to you that you have beat me these three times?”

Balaam said, “Because you've been playing games with me! If I had a sword I would have killed you by now.”

The donkey said to Balaam, “Am I not your trusty donkey on whom you’ve ridden for years right up until now? Have I ever done anything like this to you before? Have I?”He said, “No.”

Then God helped Balaam see what was going on: He saw God’s angel blocking the way, brandishing a sword. Balaam fell to the ground, his face in the dirt.

God’s angel said to him: “Why have you beaten your poor donkey these three times? I have come here to block your way because you’re getting way ahead of yourself. The donkey saw me and turned away from me these three times. If she hadn’t, I would have killed you by this time, but not the donkey. I would have let her off.”

How do You Listen to an Ass?

1. Where's that sound coming from, part 1?

Most likely that braying sound is not coming from your ride, or from the sound of those with whom you travel through your days. More likely, it is from beside the path or at a distance. It might be coming from the places others don't usually visit, aside from the crowd, from the outlier. The outlier is one who is not reflected in the prevailing statistical averages. They are the anomaly, the odd ball. As a result, they are sometimes in social isolation. I'm reminded of a church marquee during a national election week. The message on the sign stated, "The majority is rarely correct." There are times that those who are not enmeshed with the staus quo actually see things with greater clarity. Who are those who are alone, isolated, odd-ball characters in your life? What are they saying? Might there be a kernel of wisdom worthy of of consideration from their unique perspective?

2. Where's that sound coming from, part 2?

As listening skills atrophy in our overly connected culture (see Together Alone, Sherry Turkle) our ability to "attend to" another person is correspondingly weakened. Attentional listening not only listens to denotative content (attentive listening, as it has been taught), but attends to the humanity of the person communicating. What is said from the history, perspective, the emotional center of the person is not always reflected in the words. Attentional listening forces the exercise of empathy and careful attention to the non-verbals, the context, and the timing. Where, then in the life of the person, is this sound emerging?

3. Learning the languages of asses (see above wiki reference)

Not everyone means the same thing when they use familiar words. I recall learning the difference between conversational questions, and rhetorical statements intended to hide criticism. Once I was asked if I thought my preaching was satisfactory. When I answered, I thought with humility, stating that I believed I knew the congregation, I believed I had studied the texts well, and that the applications and illustrations were helpful. I also stated that I wasn't used to preaching so infrequently and that I felt as if I was not in rhythm, was a little out of sorts. It was a couple years later that I was told that was an argumentative answer. That I had been criticized for not preaching well and I argued back. I was told I should have known that the question to me was not a question, but a statement; and, I should have been aware of the passive aggressive habit of the questioner and the culture.

Learn the language of the culture!

4. Some asses are quieter than other

Isaiah describes the quiet voice of the suffering servant (Isa 42), as one who "will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street". This simply make me wonder if there are important promptings we are just missing.

Listen closely. Maybe the next ass you hear might be braying in Danish, "aeslet skryder, aeslet skryder!"

Craig Morton 2/16/13 Craig Morton 2/16/13

Listening for Fuzzy Brown Squirels

Jesus may be the answer, but seriously, listen closely to the question.

A dear brother who passed away this past summer, Richard Regier told me the following story. Richard had a gift for not allowing shallow piety to stay around long. His piety was deep and a bit wry, and more than a little rough around the edges. When we would laugh about the church trying to give shallow but pious answers to difficult questions, we would call those "fuzzy brown squirrel" answers. Answers like, "we just need to pray more," "we just need to study the Bible more," or, "we just need to let them know Jesus is the answer." Now those aren't bad things, it's just that they don't often get to the real issues at hand. So here's a brief rendition of the story Richard told me....

The preacher asks all the kids to come forward during the service for the "children's sermon." He begins, "Good morning, kids. I'm going to describe something to you and I'm going to ask you what I'm describing." The children remain quiet, wanting to hear the details so they can get the answer right.

The preacher goes on to describe the mystery creature. "What is small and has little pointed ears? It also gathers food in the summer and fall and buries it around the yard. In the winter it goes to find its buried food to help it survive through the cold months. It has tiny black eyes, a fuzzy brown tail, and easily climbs trees. What is it?

As this point the children are quiet, and looking a bit uncomfortable. Then one child raises his hand and answers without conviction, and a confused look on his face, saying, "I know that the answer is Jesus, but it sounded like a fuzzy brown squirrel."

Had the conversation taken place anywhere else, I suppose the kids would have mentioned the squirrel first of all. But since the story takes place in a church, the range of correct answers is limited. In congregations, there seems to be sets of answers that are always "appropriate" regardless of the questions.

But the old answers don't work.

Six years ago, I was among a group of people working with church leaders. One of our group was Alan Roxburgh. Alan had just published the book, The Sky is Falling: Leaders Lost in Transition. In this book, Alan describes how Christian leaders were lost in contemporary culture for lack of clear maps, misunderstanding the different terrain of cultural connection, and the loss of a satisfactory and effective Christian-centered world.

This past week, Al posted on his blog, at The Missional Network, that the disconnect Christian leaders experienced six years ago appears to be alive and well. Al was working with a congregation and wrote about them,
"The people of this church are currently looking for another way of reaching the people around them. One idea was to place a box on the wall were people in the community could place their prayer requests so that the people of the church (most of whom drove in to the 150 year old church building) could pray for them. These and other ideas where shared. These are good people. They know the world has changed, that their church is not connected to the neighborhood and that the Spirit is calling them into the neighborhood. But their focus remains stuck in the narratives of how to help people and meet their needs. Such actions are not wrong. Indeed, this is a part of the calling of God’s people. That’s not the point! What I am observing is that these long established defaults are so deep and so powerful that good people in our churches simply don’t know what else to do."

from, Transformation and Church Systems

Shifting from Default

There are "long established defaults" that limit our thinking, and above all, our imagination. The limited imagination of the church is reflected in the little story about the fuzzy brown squirrel. How can congregations begin to hear differently so that the old defaults don't become first responses? Or, how do the default responses actually become the imaginative applications of being church?

1. Change the question

The church doesn't have to respond out of habit. Rather than asking how do we reach new people, perhaps the question how do we let new people reach us. What would it be like if we entered our neighborhoods and communities as aliens, seeking the hospitality of strangers?

2. Eavesdrop

It doesn't take long to realize we have sheltered lives once we spend some time in other places. We don't have to go far out of our way - to a hospital, a prison, a shorter-term mission, we can just hang out in the neighborhood. A few years ago I was a substitute teacher at our local high school. I heard sarcasm, swearing, laughter, anger, mostly in the form of stories. Stories about others, about the weekend experiences, and occasionally about the assigned homework. But in hearing stories, you hear the values, hopes, and expectations of others.

3. Learn a new language

I am still surprised when I meet grow up, mature people, who do not know what a "tweet" is, our how to "update their status". The landscape of social networking has altered the ways in which people relate. Certainly, there are drawbacks from the habitual dependence on smartphones to manage our relationships. But not engaging it it does not improve our connections either.

4. Tell some stories

There are lots of people who want to inform me. They want to define things. There are some things that are best described that way, but wikipedia might actually do a better job of explaining some things to me. There are lots of places to go for definitions, news, instructions and directions. But there is no other place to go to find what has shaped a person's values, what has touched them deeply, or how they became the people they have become other than to hear them out. In listening to the stories of others, offering our own stories as an interface, the two stories acknowledge the meeting and the creation of a new story, a shared story.

I Want a Fuzzy Brown Squirrel to be a Fuzzy Brown Squirrel

The only reason the story about the children with their piously correct answers is because default happens. It happens when churches try to do what others have done because it worked elsewhere. It happens when the same methods of searching out answers are used decade after decade. It happens when answers re-tread previously journeyed paths.

When Isaiah spoke for God, asking, "See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up. Do you not perceive it?" (Is 43:19). It is not God that is restrained into the default answers. If we keep discerning the same things over and again, it is we who need to change. God is already doing a new things, along with our communities, our neighborhoods, the larger world. Why would the church expect itself to be the only things static and unmoved?

Craig Morton 1/4/13 Craig Morton 1/4/13

Listening to Lifehouse

Working out at the gym, I usually scan Rhapsody for new songs that are good for working out. Sometimes I give up a strong cadence in the music for music that makes me think. Getting lost in thought sometimes is just as good as getting lost in the beat.

One song that caught my attention is by Lifehouse on their newest release, Almeria. The third cut on the album is Nobody Listen. Beginning with a variety of news reports in the background, just being noise, just being talking heads, sets the stage for one of the problems that bothered has me about the way our society ineffectively tries to talk. Over time, we become cynical, numb, and eventually disengaged from too many voices and not enough conversation, not enough thought.

So, take a listen and read along. I hope you like it.

Here's the link to Youtube video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlgCxOdS7Y4

Craig Morton 1/2/13 Craig Morton 1/2/13

Listening: Is there anything to hear?

I was inspired by the second presidential debate. I'm not really sure what the opposite of "inspire" is, but this debate did it to me. Regardless of which candidate I wanted to win the debate, and which candidate I wanted to win the election, I was flabbergasted by both of the candidates.

the "talking-but-not-listening" epidemic

As I considered my frustration, it kind of poured out. I felt like I had hit some kind of limit. That all the noise of debating and arguing; posing and positioning had finally crossed some threshold.

Where did we begin to go wrong as a society in communicating? Since most of our culture is informed by commercial interests in competition for viewers, delivery of information is less important than viewers, readers, or listeners. Was it the Springer Show? Was it the when Rush Limbaugh or Dr Laura went on the air? And more to the point, why did these manifestations of an "in your face" entertainment style actually gain ratings, receive sponsors, and build up market share.
Would it be a reach to be concerned that entertainers are simply giving us what we have asked for?

Over time, we have become a talking-at culture. Listening to the presidential debates and the discussions afterwards, there was little discussion about the source and origin of the positions taken by the candidates. As I listened to others at ball games, neighbors, and friends, I began to see how people were unable to discuss their personal interests and concerns about a wide range of subjects. When people opened up about their positions, they were more like pronouncements. Pronouncements about which there was no reasonable conversation.

Over the year, I want to look at communication, but especially listening. Along with listening, comes the need:

to create more effective ways of speaking
to create trusting relationships so people are willing to discuss their personal interests rather than positions
to understand what occurs in the brain when listening to fear inducing communication
to understand ways to speak in order to be more effective
to develop tests and tools to measure and assess different listening styles and skills
to develop better ways to listen for decision and discernment
to develop skills in listening to history, cultures, and experiences of others
to find processes that sharpen our listening and discernment for groups
to work at listening so as to begin to hear each other in peace
and to find confidence in faith that God, too, can be heard

Next week, I'll be thinking about the time it takes to create listening environments. Listening can be slow and needs time.

Looking forward to hearing from you!

Craig Morton 11/25/12 Craig Morton 11/25/12

Staying Awake for the Mission

“If missional work doesn’t change us, it’s not missional work, because God’s mission is not about us. The fatigue we’re feeling in the church today is from serving ourselves. Folks that get on with the mission of God have found life. What evidence to God’s love do our congregations demonstrate?” Conrad Kanagy

Craig Morton 6/24/12 Craig Morton 6/24/12

Other Boats

As I prepared for this week's sermon, I was fortunate in that the lectionary brought me face to face with my old friend, Mark 4:35-41. I have dwelt in the passage for nearly 15 years. Each time it speaks to me of courage and confidence. As a message of hope to the suffering Christians of Rome, Mark's gospel doesn't pull punches. For instance, there's the ongoing acknowledgement of fear. The word for fear (afraid, frighten, etc) are slathered liberally through this gospel. In fact, the original ending, Mark 16:8 ends with fear. But in the face of this fear, here is Jesus, tired Jesus, asleep in the boat. Now that's confidence. Either confidence in the fact that Jesus said, "let's go over to the other side" therefore they were going to get there, or maybe Jesus had confidence in the navigation skills of his disciples. At any rate, the tired, kenotic Jesus is asleep.

https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ9bhw1nX-GMs6Zi3tRrfOgTYxBc1YluG_pfezvTZmLYADGkKPV

But Mark tells us, "there were other boats with him". All these boats, the disciples boat, caught in the storm, and these other swaying and sinking boats were in the same storm, too. But what was their experience? How did they understand the experience?

I remember as a kid, finding weathermen who complained about rain to be irritating. Now I realize they probably came from elsewhere, like Seattle, maybe. They had no awareness of Arizona desert weather. I realized that my experience of the rainy weather wasn't something to complain abut, regardless of what the self- centered weatherman said. Rain doesn't ruin plans. Maybe just human plans. However, I digress. My point is, this: same event, different understandings of the meaning.

So back to the boats in the storm.

What did the other boats experience? How did they understand what was happening? Were those travelers in the other boats thinking about the storm? It's likely they simply accepted it as a part of the reality of sailing on the Sea of Galilee.

I've never been to the Sea of Galilee. I must take the word of other more knowledgeable people regarding the changing and precarious actions of the lake. Like Menachem Lev, a spokesperson for the professional fisherman of Israel (The Times of Israel, "Israel Inside" section, 24/3/12), who said there was rise of "plankton and even salmon in the lake...the Sea of Galilee has a thousand faces and can hour to hour." I can imagine the crews in the other boats with Jesus figuring it is just another day on the lake. A storm popped up. Nothing new.

Eventually, all the boats came to shore. Some told the story this way:

"how was work today, honey?"

"oh, nothing new, storm kicked up on the lake, no big deal."

Others told a different story. The one that Mark passes along to us. About more than a simple squall roused up by the wind and sea. It was all the same event, but a different story.

Interesting are the ways in which different stories gain traction. How do we, traveling with Jesus, tell the stories of the events of our days? Often positive stories about the shared events of our shared lives are hard to find. Christians are in a fine place to tell the story of the events and the meanings of our shared lives - lives shared with those who do and those who don't sail with Jesus.

Earlier this week, Ed Stetzer blogged about the venomous preaching of certain people against GLBT people. While Stetzer himself likely holds to Southern Baptist doctrines regarding gender issues, he powerfully condemned the words and methods of these preachers in a blog post, "The Unfortunate Link Between Cultural Castigation and Pitiful Preaching," Stetzer wrote, "When you preach your anger and venom against someone else, you don't preach the Scriptures--you preach your opinions as the Scriptures."

This got me thinking, how many other misguided people are out there trying to tell the story of our shared lives to the folks in "other boats" so they know the meaning of these days? For instance, there's the Kansas preacher who interprets our shared experience of the pain and grief arising the the deaths of soldiers in Americas wars. These are not heroes, they are not victims. No, Fred Phelps sees them as being smitten by God in judgment against the USA and its tolerance of homosexuality, because "God hates gays" he wants us to know. But that's not all, there were some preachers explaining the reason God wreaked havoc on New Orleans with the hurricane Katrina. It was God's act of judgment against the subculture of the region. Out of curiosity, I searched for stories of God's judgment against Japan in the form of a tsunami. They are out there trying to weave God's judgment into their telling of the story.

Who knows? Maybe they are all on to something. But really, I don't think so. Not at all.

Again, thinking about the storm in Mark 4. That's what storms do on the Sea of Galilee. They show up, blow hard, then dissipate. No one stops to ask about God's judgment. That's just what storms do. Unattributed. Without explanation or comment. It's just that tough stuff happens. There is fear and suffering. There are hardships from war, weather, and human cruelty all the time. Some of these things are what we do to ourselves, some is what the constantly changing face of creation does to us. It's not lightning bolts from the sky sent to whack us. It's just life. Sometimes life is scary, sometimes it is violent, sometimes it hurts.

https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTFhuSHxm65mmngb2DnoeIPs9Mk-pcGLNVN-Z-X2A5dot63IRqeNg

The storm just comes from a storm. But the calm - the calm comes from Jesus. Jesus' grace calms the sea, and not just our boat, our disciples’ boat. Other boats were with them. They get the good stuff too. Some will tell stories of anger and judgment about where the storm came from. But who is going to tell the story about where the calm came from? How will they know, they who have shared the same experience, but missed the intimate details? Who will tell the others about God's pervasive, overpowering, indiscriminate grace?

Craig Morton 7/17/11 Craig Morton 7/17/11

Remembrance of Morning Rituals

For many years my "summer office" was filled with the relaxing sounds of water moving and trickling, the songs of an aviary's chorus of birds, gentle breezes carrying the fragrance of honeysuckle, roses, hints of herbs and fresh grass. All this enlivened by the alluring warmth of the morning sun. All this was at my disposal; not in some mountain get away, not a pilgrimage to secluded monastery, nor to a luxurious vacation get away.

Just my backyard.

For the past few weeks I have been coming to this place again. A small table, cheap white plastic chairs. A cup of coffee. At the back porch of my abnormally plain suburban home.

While I sit sipping coffee, I read through the Bible, write out some hopes and fears and "recreational theology", acknowledge that God is hearing everything as my prayer. God "hears" my choice of location, my posture, my awareness of what surrounds me, and my thoughts. God hears what I am doing, thinking, and seeing.

One of the thoughts that keeps coming back is one of remembrance and loss. Now I attend this little sacred getaway most mornings each week. It used to be nearly everyday. I used to enjoy this as my "summer office" for hours at a time, now for only minutes. My work office is elsewhere behind walls and a narrow window through which no fragrances nor breezes pass. So I grieve the loss of my summer office, remember the goodness of it and perform this daily ritual of prayer and hope.
Sent from my Blackberry, in other words, I'm out and about wandering in the wild world...

Craig Morton 7/14/11 Craig Morton 7/14/11

Quiet Thoughts While Things Blew Up

Last week, my wife and I walked through the neighborhood watching adults and children lighting sparklers, igniting fire-crackers, and watching fountains of fire and light on the Fourth of July. The adults were talking, the children were screaming delightfully, and we - my wife and I - were happy residents in a subdivision we call home.

We’ve lived here over 10 years. That’s longer than we’ve lived anywhere together. As we turned the corner, a neighbor, Chrissy, was sitting in a folding chair at the edge of her road. She could look up the street or down the street to see the fireworks. We spoke with her for awhile, then moved on. We found our son up the road and around the corner. He was with two of his friends. One of his friend’s dad, Tim, was there, too. We talked as littler kids watched the fire and light. Tim, has been a friend for as long as our sons have been friends. Tim and I have coached our sons together in baseball, our sons have played football together. For about six years, our families have seen each other almost weekly for 8-10 months out of the year. Some weeks, that more than we see anyone from our church, work, or even our own family.

Walking back home, we reflect, as we often have, that we are grateful for our neighbors, most of the time. Darrel and his wife, Tim and Lisa, Cindy and Nicki, Dennis and Dory, Ray and Rosemary. They’ve been there and they care. I don’t know their politics, I only know a little about their faith. But we’ve known their kids and grand-kids, and they’ve known our kids.

While others find abstract concepts like “liberty”, “freedom,” and “Independence” something to celebrate, I think I’m happy to celebrate the opportunity to live with my family and people like Tim, Chrissy, and the rest. And to call this mundane place home.

Craig Morton 7/4/11 Craig Morton 7/4/11

Value of Cages

A friend recently placed the following YouTube video on our ministry's Facebook page. As I have worked with congregations, they continue to get hung up on the concept of "missional church". Therefore I thought the following two minute video was pretty good at giving an overview.

Interesting to me was the response from an acquaintance who had been "evangelized" by some Christians thinking themselves "missional." Not all Christians are ready to be out of their cages, it seems. The key is to leave the churchiness behind and actually enter into the culture of others. Some seem to carry the church-centered agenda out into the public. The result is that "missional" approach doesn't look any different than old school forms of assertive recitations of "spiritual laws" and needing to get "saved".

The problem isn't in this two-minute video. It actually does a good job explaining the basic definition of missional as opposed to church-centered ministry. The major paradigmatic shift takes more than just a couple minutes to transfer into real practices.

Until then, some churches might work well as cages to keep some Christians inside and off the streets. Perhaps until the church figures out how to effectively interact with culture, some of those less ready to go out into the public might stay inside. Seriously, though, the shift from church-centered thinking to serious engagement with communities and cultures takes time, a willingness to experiment and fail, and an enduring desire keep learning.

Until then...it may be safer for some of us to remain indoors, behind our cages. And it might be safer for those we seek to welcome into the Kingdom of God.

Craig Morton 7/4/11 Craig Morton 7/4/11

Fram Wisdom

“You Can Pay Me Now, or You Can Pay Me Later”

There’s s a certain bit of irony: thinking intently about the importance of certain actions when you have no intention of actually doing them. Like watching a gourmet cooking show while eating fast food; watching the PX90 infomercial while in the midst of junk food splendor. There are always commercials we watch advertising certain important actions. Often we are about as likely to heed their call as we are to sprout wings.

Specifically? I’m thinking about weekend television I watched as a kid. I remember watching baseball, basketball, NFL, occasionally NHL, and “spanning the globe…the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat…Wide World of Sports.” On weekends, that’s when you would have the opportunity to get: a) lots of chores done; or b) watch a lot of sports. And for the most part choice a) and choice b) were mutually exclusive. Usually choice b) wins.

With marketing to men during sports programming, I remember the classic Fram oil filter commercials with the tag line, “you can pay me now or you can pay me later.” What struck me as odd or ironic was that there were these guys on the TV telling us to do some simple maintenance on our cars, but we were watching TV sports and we not likely to get up off the couch. Sure, we might have some fresh oil and some filters out in the garage, but that didn’t mean we’d do anything with it. At least not now.

We’d get around to it…eventually.

Fortunately, I had parents who got things done. I remember being raised with a sense of timely intervention. Little problems were dealt with so that they would not become bigger. Small disciplines were carried out daily in order to prevent a pile of work needing to be done later. I think I was raised with a Fram sensibility, i.e. “you can do a little now that is simple, or you can wait until later when it will become a hassle.” However, as I consider my screen door needing repaired, the long to-do list on my car, and the work on the lawn, I realize I have not fully incorporated the wisdom of Fram.

Getting Around to It

The Fram wisdom came to mind over the past couple weeks. I have worked with superintendents, bishops, conference ministers and presbyters. I have worked with congregations in transition, in conflict, and contemplating growth and mission. In most of these cases, I have had the privilege of helping them chart passages and identify hurdles along their way. Most of these churches were not in all out danger of collapse; they just needed some maintenance, attention to aspects of their life together that had gone unaddressed. However, with the experience of the Great Recession, most of the independent church consultants I know have not had a lot of work. Many of us have landed in other jobs. The reason has not been a lack of need, but a perceived lack of funds or lack crisis from our former clients. There are always opportunities to help congregations learn new things, engage in meaningful self-reflection, to prepare for difficulties, and create lead time for new opportunities.

One of the heart breaks I have witnessed both as a pastor, and simply as someone trying to see what’s going on, there is sometimes a sad recognition: when a problem is noticed, it may already be too late. Counselors and therapists know this. They often speak sadly of the couples ending in divorce whose relationships are beyond repair. “If only they had come in earlier.” There are the cardiac surgeons who would love to tell patients, eat right, exercise, get regular checkups. But by the time they come into a hospital with chest pains, it is too late and the bypass surgery is just around the corner. Most of the time, people know they are in jeopardy of destroying their health, their relationships, their businesses, but they feel hemmed in by limited budgets of time and money.

Over the past month, I have been contacted by former clients and been informed of congregations in crisis. Some have to do with conflict, many of the issues arise out of faulty discernment practices, there has been poor communication, and accountability has been skewed from sharing burdens to seeking blame. What a mess. While I never would want to tell them, “I told you so,” many have noticed that if they had worked on these problems earlier, this crisis would not exist now. Or, more realistically, if these problems were really inevitable, then at least one could have been more prepared for them.

Changing Filters

Changing filters is easier than changing an engine. Changing congregational practices and creating lead time is easier that changing entire boards, committees, clergy, and other leaders. Changing practices may be tedious, your knuckles might get scraped and your hands get dirty, so to speak. But the results are longer lasting. They are less prone to be quick fixes with a short shelf-life. They are less likely to be focused on problem-solving limited by a narrow, though painful, focus. Rather, simple practices, third-party consultations, learning new discernment practices are more fruitful when the engine is still working well. What kinds of investments are needed in your community to make the whole, “You can pay me now, or you can pay me later,” warning more meaningful?

Let’s get to work!

Craig Morton 4/30/11 Craig Morton 4/30/11

New Version on Psalm 137

From Al Roxburgh's book Missional Map Making, page 20.

In the midst of this crazy world and wonder what has happened.
How do I talk to a kid with a ring in his nose?
Does the Old Rugged Cross mean anything to him?
He asks me to sing a song about "my Jesus."
From what I can tell he is from another planet, or am I the stranger here?
I think its time to sell the Wurlitzer.
So how do I tell Martians about Jesus,
when the only language I speak is 1955?
How do I write a headline for them
That doesn't screw up the Good News?
I king of wish it were they it was,
but it's not. So I need to figure out
how to sing the old lyrics
with a whole new tune.

What's missing is the hard to read, vengeful ending. How would you write the ending?
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Craig Morton 4/8/11 Craig Morton 4/8/11

Practicing Community?

If it were not for a dead muffler on an old truck, I probably would not be riding the bus. While I honestly value the opportunity to use public transit, isn't it for other folks, not me?

Maybe its an image problem. Impoverished commuters, cash strapped students, or people with more flexible schedules. You know, other people. I guess I am one of the other "other people."

What does it say about God's mission to ride a bus with strangers? What does it mean to have our present, our path, and our destinations shared? Not metaphorically, but actually. Regardless of faith or its lack, regardless of income or its lack, and without regard to some level of environmental idealism, we need reminders of our shared humanity.

Ride the bus, missionally.
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Craig Morton 9/20/10 Craig Morton 9/20/10

Shifting Identities

Years ago I learned about the phrase "going native.". Originally, it was used to describe the process by which Cold War spies shifted their allegiances from their country of origin to the country in which they were embedded.

It was the power of relationships that made the difference. The daily interactions with neighbors, community activities and whatever job was their "cover." As the daily interests and concerns became less exotic and more routine, normal became the present context. The former context of home and origins became almost mythic. Real and normal were the daily chores and joys. Over time, the present, the real, and the normal overwhelm us all, and we go native.

I have lived in Idaho a minority of my life. I have been a teacher in one capacity or another for a few years. Professionally, I feel less an ordained minister than I do a Professor of General Studies. I found this weekend, I described myself more as a professor than as a pastor. To a certain degree I find that role switch uncomfortable.

While I live and act in a particular context, I feel inclined to wonder about who I am. Am I going native, or, is my citizenship (Phil 3:20) elsewhere?

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Craig Morton 4/11/10 Craig Morton 4/11/10

Institution And a Movement

From David Bosch:
"We cannot have it both ways, then: purely and exclusively a religious movement, yet at the same time something that will survive the centuries and continue to exercise dynamic influence. Our main point of censure should therefore not be that the movement became an institution but that, when this happened, it also lost much of its verve. Its white-hot convictions, poured into the hearts of the first adherets, cooled down and became crystallized codes, solidified institutions, and petrified dogmas. The prophet became a priest of the establishment, charisma became office, and love became routine. The horizon was no longer the world but the boundaries of the local parish. The impetus missionary torrent of earlier years was tamed into a still-flowing rivulet and eventually into a stationary pond. It is this development that we have to deplore. Institution and movement may never be mutually exclusive categories; neither may church and mission".

From, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission, pg 53
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Craig Morton 4/11/10 Craig Morton 4/11/10

Institution And a Movement

From David Bosch:

"We cannot have it both ways, then: purely and exclusively a religious movement, yet at the same time something that will survive the centuries and continue to exercise dynamic influence. Our main point of censure should therefore not be that the movement became an institution but that, when this happened, it also lost much of its verve. Its white-hot convictions, poured into the hearts of the first adherets, cooled down and became crystallized codes, solidified institutions, and petrified dogmas. The prophet became a priest of the establishment, charisma became office, and love became routine. The horizon was no longer the world but the boundaries of the local parish. The impetus missionary torrent of earlier years was tamed into a still-flowing rivulet and eventually into a stationary pond. It is this development that we have to deplore. Institution and movement may never be mutually exclusive categories; neither may church and mission".

From, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission, pg 53

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Craig Morton 4/5/10 Craig Morton 4/5/10

Easter After

This morning I read the Bible. I read the Luke 24 passage about the downcast disciples walking out of the city to their home in Emmaus.

Maybe they were trying to wash their hands of the whole escapade and just go home. Maybe they wanted to find "normal" again. Leaving Jerusalem their first step towards that goal.

One of the hardest searches in life is seeking out "normal.". Each day can end with a sigh, thinking, "I made it through that!". It is as if each night brings a desire to flee from the craziness of "Jerusalem". But when each morning arrives, "with troubles enough of its own," I'm reminded that there is no "normal" to flee to.

In the story of the disciples walking to Emmaus, they change orientation. After hearing, and understanding, what this stranger has told them. Then upon seeing Jesus revealed from this stranger, the disciples head back toward that place from they had fled.

I know that the balanced life and non-challenging life, the normal life is always fleeing faster and further than I can reach. So, as I orient myself to the day and the week to come, I head back "Jerusalem", those crazy places in which we live and escape the "normal".

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Craig Morton 3/1/10 Craig Morton 3/1/10

Life-Giving Fear

I recently read this fine piece from Barbara Brown Taylor. It is an excellent Lenten meditation.

by Barbara Brown Taylor

Barbara Brown Taylor teaches at Piedmont College in Demorest, Ga. This article appeared in the Christian Century, March 4, 1998, page 229; copyright by the Christian Century Foundation and used by permission. Current articles and subscription information can be found at www.christiancentury.org. This material was prepared for Religion Online by Ted & Winnie Brock.
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When I was a hospital chaplain, the calls I dreaded most did not come from the emergency room, the psychiatric ward or even the morgue. They came from the pediatric floor, where little babies lay in cribs with bandages covering half their heads and sweet-faced children pushed IV poles down the hall. One day I received a call to come sit with a mother while her five-year-old daughter was in surgery. Earlier in the week, the girl had been playing with a friend when her head began to hurt. By the time she found her mother, she could no longer see. At the hospital, a CAT scan confirmed that a large tumor was pressing on the girl's optic nerve, and she was scheduled for surgery as soon as possible.

On the day of the operation, I found her mother sitting under the fluorescent lights in the waiting room beside an ashtray full of cigarette butts. She smelled as if she had puffed every one of them, although she was not smoking when I got there. She was staring at a patch of carpet in front of her, with her eyebrows raised in that half-hypnotized look that warned me to move slowly. I sat down beside her. She came to, and after some small talk she told me just how awful it was. She even told me why it had happened.

"It's my punishment," she said, "for smoking these damned cigarettes. God couldn't get my attention any other way, so he made my baby sick." Then she started crying so hard that what she said next came out like a siren: "Now I'm supposed to stop, but I can't stop. I'm going to kill my own child!"

This was hard for me to hear. I decided to forego reflective listening and concentrate on remedial theology instead. "I don't believe in a God like that," I said. "The God I know wouldn't do something like that." The only problem with my response was that it messed with the mother's worldview at the very moment she needed it most. However miserable it made her, she preferred a punishing God to an absent or capricious one. I may have been able to reconcile a loving God with her daughter's brain tumor, but at the moment she could not: If there was something wrong with her daughter, then there had to be a reason. She was even willing to be the reason. At least that way she could get a grip on the catastrophe.

Even those of us who claim to know better react the same way. Calamity strikes and we wonder what we did wrong. We scrutinize our behavior, our relationships, our diets, our beliefs. We hunt for some cause to explain the effect in hopes that we can stop causing it. What this tells us is that we are less interested in truth than consequences. What we crave, above all, is control over the chaos of our lives.

Luke does not divulge the motive of those who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices. The implication is that those who died deserved what they got, or at least that is the question Jesus intuited. "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?"

It is a tempting equation that solves a lot of problems. (1) It answers the riddle of why bad things happen to good people: they don't. Bad things only happen to bad people. (2) It punishes sinners right out in the open as a warning to everyone. (3) It gives us a God who obeys the laws of physics. For every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction. Any questions?

It is a tempting equation, but Jesus won't go there. "No," he tells the crowd, "but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did." In the South, this is what we call giving with one hand and taking away with the other. No, Jesus says, there is no connection between the suffering and the sin. Whew. But unless you repent, you are going to lose some blood too. Oh.

There is no sense spending too much time trying to decipher this piece of the good news. As far as I can tell, it is meant not to aid reason but to disarm it. In an intervention aimed below his listeners' heads, Jesus touches the panic they have inside of them about all the awful things that are happening around them. They are terrified by those things -- for good reason. They have searched their hearts for any bait that might bring disaster sniffing their way. They have lain awake at night making lists of their mistakes.

While Jesus does not honor their illusion that they can protect themselves in this way, he does seem to honor the vulnerability that their fright has opened up in them. It is not a bad thing for them to feel the full fragility of their lives. It is not a bad thing for them to count their breaths in the dark -- not if it makes them turn toward the light.

It is that turning he wants for them, which is why he tweaks their fear. Don't worry about Pilate and all the other things that can come crashing down on your heads, he tells them. Terrible things happen, and you are not always to blame. But don't let that stop you from doing what you are doing. That torn place your fear has opened up inside of you is a holy place. Look around while you are there. Pay attention to what you feel. It may hurt you to stay there and it may hurt you to see, but it is not the kind of hurt that leads to death. It is the kind that leads to life.

Depending on what you want from God, this may not sound like good news. I doubt that it would have sounded like good news to the mother in the waiting room. But for those of us who have discovered that we cannot make life safe nor God tame, it is gospel enough. What we can do is turn our faces to the light. That way, whatever befalls us, we will fall the right way.

Sent from my Blackberry, in other words, I'm out and about wandering in the wild world...