Greyhound Jesus and Alabama Jimmy-Part 3 of 3

Greyhound Jesus and Alabama Jimmy

Lessons in Following the Holy Spirit’s Leading,

Faith-Based Hoping, and God’s Lavish Non-Economies of Scale

Part 3 – Some of the Lessons and Meanings in “Missional” …

Part 1 in this series was subtitled, Going with the Eyes of Jesus, and Part 2 was Seeing with the Eyes of Jesus. Part 3 brings together some of what learned as I went and I saw, sitting side-by-side with Greyhound Jesus from here to Texas and back.

I think I’ll take things in an unexpected order and start with … the middle of the subtitle – on hope. I don’t know that these are particularly spectacular insights, but I do know that taking time for reflection always adds qualitatively to our perception. And isn’t that what it’s about, really? Improving our perception of how God is at work so we have a broader interpretation of His providence and a deeper appreciation for His dealings? So, it is what it is, and here it is.

Longing and Fulfillment in Faith-Based Hoping

Hope deferred makes the heart sick,

But desire fulfilled is a tree of life.

(Proverbs 13:12, NASB)

In my college years, I switched from the King James Version to the New American Standard Bible, and the NASB translation of Proverbs 13:12 was a verse I memorized. Something about how this passage connects the concepts of hope and the tree of life just resonated in me.

I’ve long been drawn to the theme of hope. I’m not quite sure why. Perhaps it’s because I’ve sometimes had to endure various difficulties that last for decades – and without hope, I do not know how I could’ve survived. On my own, I’d end up a narcissist + nihilist … now, there’s a toxic combo!

Or maybe I’m drawn to hope because it is, in great part, a function of “sanctified imagination.” (As is prayer, and I pray. A lot. Because the inevitable if God does not somehow intervene would be unimaginable!) Imagination allows me to see through eyes of faith other possibilities beyond what is present. And that same imagination which helps me foresee other scenarios for the future also helps me help others discern their trajectory, based on who they are at a deeper level than might be apparent. (In the interest of disclosure, I must say that it doesn’t always work with myself as well as it does for others. But then, isn’t it so that most gifts we have don’t always work in the first person? Because we’re wired for relationship, we need others to declare what they see that we are blind to, whether the good or the bad.)

From my point of view, I went on the trip to Houston via Greyhound because I “hoped” to reconnect with a greater sense of humanity. I’d been so enmeshed in an exhausting routine for so long that I’d lost my ability to imagine anything other than more of the same. Although my imagination had lost its flexibility, it hadn’t totally lost all viability. At least I still desired to see things differently, and it was clear enough that I needed a significant break and a breakthrough to regain perspective. In this, I believe I longed for a good thing, and God fulfilled the longing and also brought fulfillment. It was that hope-translated-to-tree-of-life phenomenon!

Personally, I think how this happens is one of the mysteries of faith in following Jesus. When the Scriptures talk about God giving us the desires of our hearts, you have to wonder whether He means that in the sense of an object (i.e., He fulfills those desires that we develop in our heart) or a subject (i.e., He puts those desires into our heart). It makes sense to me that it’s both: He puts desires into our heart, and then delights to fulfill what desires He finds developed there. And thus He brings us into His story by implanting godly desires in us that bear fruit in His season – not ours.

So, however this desire to reconnect with humanity came about, it strikes me as I’m writing this that the only way to fulfill that reconnection was to individuals, not some faceless generic humans. It’s sort of the reverse of what the curmudgeon character Lucy from Peanuts says: “I love humanity, it’s people I can’t stand.” And so, I had a series of encounters with individuals, and the memory of this rather vivid reconnection with Jimmy has lasted for several years already.

And if God cares enough about an otherwise unseen guy who got stuck in Los Angeles to send a stranger from 400 miles away to special deliver something like $27 for a few meals, then He must really care about the smallest of details far more than we even know. And that also means that we really must all be worth a whole lot more to Him than we might imagine …

Provisions in God’s Lavish Non-Economies of Scale

… and yet in the world as it’s been, I’ve found it all too easy to become obsessed with efficiency (doing things right) and effectiveness (doing right things), as if all God cared about was the economical and maximum use of His resources more than about us as His reflections. Well, that’d work perfectly if the world were a machine and we were simply its managers and God were The Ultimate CEO.

But it isn’t and we aren’t and He isn’t.

Instead, God has made this world a place of providential paradox, with both simplicity and extravaganicity. These don’t have to compete, though they seem irreconcilable. We can keep them in a complementary tension which is meant to optimize our humanity – our value as those made in God’s image.

By the time everything ended, I probably spent just as much money on the Greyhound Bus trip as I would’ve on an airline. So, this experience wasn’t about economizing in God’s economy – it was about stewardship, discernment, and obedience. And given the labyrinthine twists and turns taken, it seems to me an incredibly extravagant way for God to say, “I love you” to Alabama Jimmy, by having me show up at the right place at the right time for 20-odd dollars … which, by extension, I assume must’ve been the right amount for whatever the Lord had in mind next for Jimmy and for me with what I had left.

Lessons in Following the Holy Spirit’s Leading

When I think back on the series of options I checked out on mode of transportation for the Houston trip, I see how the Spirit sometimes narrows down the options. It doesn’t mean I was being disobedient. Instead, think of this in terms of a storyline. Plane, train, car, and bus were more about God’s “MacGuffins” than my mistakes. (MacGuffins are items and issues in stories of mystery, action, and intrigue. They move the plot forward, and thus, move the character’s development forward.) I think the Spirit was ultimately most interested in my interacting with His leading and moving forward in ways where my trajectory could intersect with Alabama Jimmy’s at the precise point of need where I had been prepared both to perceive his need and willing to meet it.

And that brings in the idea of life as a storyline in a multi-level multi-user game plan based in infinite rather than finite game theory. Finite games are about competition, winners and losers, a beginning and an end. However, infinite games are about cooperation, and they have the overt purpose of keeping all players in an open-ended game for as long as possible. So, sometimes I’ve blogged about “divine dominoes,” where someone plays a domino or a role from the gifts or assets they have in order for someone else to be able to continue moving forward. I wish a lot more activity in the Church were based on infinite game theory, and that we’d help keep each other buoyed up and moving ahead with the Lord …

This is not to suggest that God is “playing games with us.” Rather, it’s like He’s inviting us into His storyline, which includes many other people, and He keeps growing us to where we can participate in ever more significant roles because we are becoming ever more who/what He designed us and gifted us to become. I think it’s ultimately about getting to know the Game Designer, but that won’t happen if we don’t let ourselves get into the game.

And so, if nothing else, I was able to explore God’s providence through this experience, and be witness to some odd and awesome surprises. They implanted questions that I’m not likely to find The Truth about, at least not fully, but I know I can discern truthful perspectives as I reflect on questions like ..

• Was I “meant” to be on that bus, just as Alabama Jimmy was dealing with having missed previous two buses to his connection point in Texas?
• Would God have provided someone else to show His care for Jimmy?
• Or, did he use me in that role because of the previous circumstances?
• Or, did He pre-guide the previous circumstances in order to use me in that role?
• What was Jimmy’s back story, and where is he now?
• How have I been “kept in the game” by the divine dominoes played by others on my behalf?

Speculation is not always as helpful as I’d like. But whatever the most accurate view theologically of these questions, the practical reality was that I was there, and Alabama Jimmy got the help he needed, and – I trust – God is still watching out for Alabama Jimmy because He loves him. Lavishly! And thankfully, I know at a deeper level that He has that same kind of seek-him-out-and-bless-them love for me, and you, and us – because there are no “thems” beyond God’s gaze.

 

Greyhound Jesus and Alabama Jimmy-Part 2 of 3

Greyhound Jesus and Alabama Jimmy

Lessons in Following the Holy Spirit’s Leading,

Faith-Based Hoping, and God’s Lavish Non-Economies of Scale

Part 2 – Seeing with the Eyes of Jesus …

And thus my Greyhound Jesus adventure began … and all kinds of interesting stuff happened at the major stations along the way: San Francisco, Los Angeles, and a few places in Arizona and Texas. (Greyhound Jesus and Alabama Jimmy, Part 1 – Going with the Eyes of Jesus …)

All kinds of people take the bus, not just those you might expect. And, in the course of things, I did meet many different kinds of people. But then, that was really the point of going with the eyes of Greyhound Jesus in the first place. Here are some snapshots of highlight meetings and events on the trip:

–> The older mother and adult son outbackers who’d been wiped out financially in Alaska and were on their way back south. Parts of their tale sounded very plausible, other parts sort of imaginative (and self-serving) interpretation.

–> The 20-something woman who asked for a dollar so she could get something from the vending machine, but asked with an attitude of entitlement. (I gave it to her anyway, because I’d arrived at the personal “policy” of keeping some change in my pocket and whenever anyone asks for cash, I give them whatever change I have and don’t feel shamed that I can’t give anything or don’t give more.)

–> The friendly post-punk couple with their post-apocalyptic clothing, which included for the guy a full-length duster coat with hand-crafted sections of tears mended with mail rings – something like you’d see in The Postman or Mad Max or Tank Girl. Some of the coolist and most down-to-earthest people I met on the entire trip, they kindly introduced me to the wonders of speculative fictionist/fantacist Neil Gaiman. They highly recommended Sandman, American Gods, and Neverwhere (which was turned into a must-see BBC miniseries), and I’ve since listened to the audiobook of Interworld, a multiverse story by Neil Gaiman and Michael Reaves.

–> The utterly erudite and comical street person – a guy who apparently kept body and soul together by trading talk on philosophy and intellectual jokes for some smokes or a bite of bread or cuppa coffee. Who would’ve expected that you could ponder postmodernity at the bus depot … dumbing-down Derrida, philoso-flaying Foucault, ha-ha-ing Heidigger? I found it ironic that someone who obviously wielded a weighty intellect apparently found his meaning in life by talking about those who philosophized about the meaninglessness of life. But then, I didn’t know his circumstances. Maybe that’s all he could find to do, and perhaps better to engage in something rather than nothing.

–> A 60-something woman was on her way to see her new grandchild and the bus was the only way she could get to some obscure place off the map with no nearby airports. So, even if you had the money to fly, it wouldn’t have helped. She and another woman picked up from the same small-town bus stop shared sack lunches with each other and with another woman who’d run out of snacks.

–> I didn’t realize that the Border Patrol would stop the bus in Texas and check everyone’s papers. As it turned out, on each leg of the journey, they took one person off the bus for deportation. On the way back, they happened to remove the quiet and seemingly gentle man who sat right next to me. This is an experience I haven’t yet processed to the depth that I should, but perhaps that will happen in providential timing as part of some other series on missional discovery events.

–> Also on the way home from Doxology, somewhere in the middle of Arizona the bus blew an engine. Several passengers stressed out and yelled at the driver – like it was his fault the engine blew? – and another freaked out so much that I feared he would assault the driver. A scary scene, and I recall praying … a lot! It took well over an hour before the company could send out a replacement bus. But when the bus driver actually asked those who had been antagonistic to help something constructive (e.g., put out warning cones and help transfer all luggage to a roadside lot), then they calmed down. Maybe because the situation was so out of their control, they needed something constructive to do that helped them regain some sense of control, or at least of purpose.

I guess I witnessed a whole range of human possibilities juxtaposed in terms of stories and emotions, strengths and weaknesses. I certainly saw a spectrum: people agitated to the point of violence and people calming one another, people demanding money from others and people sharing their food, people cutting in lines and people holding another’s place in line. That in itself was an educational refresher-course in Humanity 101!

But still, in retrospect, it seems the main purpose for the trip by bus was really all about “Alabama Jimmy,” a young man in his early 20s I met at the Greyhound depot in Los Angeles.

My bus from San Francisco got into Los Angeles barely a bit too late for me to catch an early departure headed for Texas. So I had to figure out how to be sure to get on the next one. I quickly got used to the routine: Find the right departure gate, get in line, talk with the people around you and get to know them, ask them to watch your stuff when you need to exit to get some food or for a trip to the rest room or just to walk and stretch your legs. At first I was surprised at how open and trusting most people were, but as time went on, it made more sense. This is one of those situations you can’t really deal with on your own. If you lose your place in line … well … it could be disastrous!

And as it turns out, that’s part of what happened with Jimmy. He’d missed the previous two buses and had been stuck in the LA Greyhound Terminal for at least 24 hours. The first time, he was something like Passenger #60 in line, and since the buses could only hold about 45 or 50 passengers, and since they didn’t pull up an additional bus just because there are more than 50 people waiting, he missed that one. Second time, he got out of line to get some food and then couldn’t get back into his original place, because he hadn’t connected with someone to act as a placeholder for him.

So here we were in the same cluster of people, about in the #15 to #20 range in line. First thing I remember is that he was trying to sleep on one of the nearby benches while the person in front of me saved his place. When he woke up and got back into line, I was eating a snack. The Voice of Politeness from Childhood inside my brain said, “Don’t eat in front of other people unless you share.” So I offered him a granola bar. He ate part and wrapped up the rest, and tucked it into his backpack. At the time, that struck me as a bit odd, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.

We got to chatting eventually, as most people in these lines did sooner or later. You’re often waiting for hours, with nowhere much to go and nothing much else to do, and it made time pass more pleasantly. And since everyone in a bus terminal is going from something to somewhere, those are potentially easy topics to pursue. I talked about my friends who were presenting the Doxology art exhibit in Houston, and Jimmy thought that all sounded cool.

Turns out he’d been to a wedding of his best friends and was on his way back to his grandmother’s place in Alabama. It sounded like she was getting up in years and that Jimmy was one of the few in her extended family who was acting as a regular visitor or even a caregiver. I could tell by his enthusiasm on that topic that he adored her, and it seemed she was perhaps the closest family he had and that his parents weren’t in the picture much.

At one point Jimmy asked me to watch his stuff and hold his place in line so he could take a break … threshold of trust established. It wasn’t that much longer and we all found ourselves on the Greyhound to Texas. Third times a charm, as they say, and boy, was Jimmy happy to be on that bus! We still had at least another 20 hours before we parted ways at a main hub in Texas. I’d go on to Houston and he’d head north to Alabama, with another full day of travel.

When there were stretch breaks, sometimes we’d chat a bit, sometimes not. A couple of other guys about Jimmy’s age boarded somewhere in Arizona, and he’d mostly be talking or sharing a cigarette with them. But sometime in that next day, I noticed that during meal breaks, Jimmy either didn’t leave the bus, or when he did, he didn’t get anything to eat. When he was on the bus, he spent a lot of time trying to sleep.

Something was off … definitely wrong.

The next 45-minute meal/stretch break was “breakfast” – at something like 3 o’clock in the morning. Jimmy milled around with his two buddies for a bit, and when they finished their cigarettes, the other guys went to get something at the truck stop. I knew what I was supposed to do. I went up to Jimmy and asked, “Hey, you doing okay? Looks like you haven’t been feeling well.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Not so great.”

Time to get direct. “Do you have any money for food?”

“No, I would’ve had enough but spent it when I got stuck at the depot in LA. Last thing I bought was dinner last night. And I’ve had the granola bars and other stuff you gave me, and some fruit someone else gave me.”

That meant he’d gone about 30 hours since his last meal, and he had probably another 30 hours at least before he’d arrive at his final Alabama destination.

I snagged my tattered thin black wallet – the one I’ve been using since at least the turn of the millennium – out of my pocket, and pulled out the small stack of folded bills in the middle. I turned the bills this way and that as I tried to figure out what was there under the faint fluorescent glow of lights in the foggy lot outside the truck stop.

“Here … take this. Get some food.” I handed it too him and looked him in the face. “We ‘bus tribe’ people gotta take care of each other.”

I gave him much of what was there. It wasn’t a lot, and it was an odd amount – something like $23, $26, or $27. As best I can recall, Jimmy showed a combination of relief and elation, with a dash of surprise. He was on the verge of tears: “Thanks, man …”

“You’re welcome.”

Just after he turned to head inside, his two friends were on their way back to the bus. They’d seen part of the exchange and I overheard one ask Jimmy, “Who’s that? What happened?”

“That’s the guy who’s helpin’ me out to get something to eat.”

“You know him?”

“Naww, just a guy I met at the LA depot.” Jimmy turned to go inside to shop.

Yeah, I mused, just someone whose been short on cash myself before. Walking in wide circles to keep some circulation going, I wouldn’t be surprised if I thought more about the “bus tribe” in Marin while I finished up whatever I was snacking on. I’d used Golden Gate Transit to get to my work for almost the entire time during those agonizing prior 13 months. And there are stories to tell from those experiences as well. Indeed, we bus tribe people do take care of each other, or need to learn how to.

But now, it was nearing the end of the stretch break. Jimmy finally emerged, carrying a bag. He came up to me. “I can’t believe you did that. I don’t think I know anybody in the world who would’ve done that for me. Thanks!”

I chuckled, “Oh, I bet you do – I’m sure other people would do that, too!”

Jimmy looked serious. “Well, if it wasn’t you, it’d have to be somebody just like you, man.” As we turned to get back on the bus, he made sure we made eye contact as he added, “God bless you!”

The two of us didn’t get a chance to talk much more. Somewhere deep in the heart of Texas, our bus routes diverged. About the time buses were due to pull out of that station, I had an overwhelming urge to run over to his bus to hand him a note with my address and ask him to write and let me know he made it to his grandmother’s place okay. But I didn’t. Instead, I prayed a lot for him the rest of the trip … and occasionally do, even to this day.

Sometimes, I still wonder if maybe Alabama Jimmy wonders if it was an angel who brought him cash from heaven.

As I write this, for the first time the thought struck me that perhaps it was Jimmy who was the angel … after all, angels are messengers from God, and his presence helped show me the world through the eyes of Jesus …

Concluded in Part 3 with Alabama Jimmy and some meanings of “missional.”

 

Greyhound Jesus and Alabama Jimmy-Part 1 of 3

Greyhound Jesus and Alabama Jimmy

Lessons in Following the Holy Spirit’s Leading,

Faith-Based Hoping, and God’s Lavish Non-Economies of Scale

Part 1 – Going with the Eyes of Jesus …

So, I decided to go stealth on the Greyhound to Houston, but to keep asking myself how Greyhound Jesus would view all that would happen, and how He would interpret what He experienced … (Doxology and Decompression)

Here I am, almost three years after a very important, life-shaping event. And I had no clue at the time of its significance. But, as Søren Kierkegaard said, “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.” And what I’ve been learning in retrospect to carry into my future is a timely lesson in the midst of recession: God’s economy is not necessarily about being efficient or effective. Often, it’s about being outrageous and lavish.

This is my story of experiencing Greyhound Jesus and an outrageously lavish gift God wanted to give a guy I came to call “Alabama Jimmy.” I could give you the “espresso version” of what happened in, oh, a paragraph or so, but I’ve decided to show how things unfolded. To me, that’s more intriguing, and it lets me “externalize” the details of learning to discern and follow the Spirit’s leading. Dealing with details is something I think has ongoing value as we consider our spiritual formation. Externalizing the process of being led and discerning that leading is also just not something I heard disciples share specifics of when I was a young Christian … wish I had, but as in so many other aspects of following Jesus, what I wasn’t able to find then, I’ve made a commitment to become for those I can influence. So here it is.

Giving an expanded account instead of an espresso one also parallels another facet of the lesson I learned about God’s economy and efficiency: God’s not in the rush-rush-rush that we are, and sometimes, the looooonger His set-up for a dramatic scene in human history, the more valuable the pay-off. Also, as others have said, “We see God’s work in the details.” So, what’s a story without the demonstrative details? And thus, I hope you don’t mind if I take it slow and amble along to the denouement …

Anyway, I told some of the background to this story in Doxology and Decompression – how I felt the need to reconnect with the broader community of humanity after 15 months of excruciatingly intense cloistering within two Christian communities: work and church. This trip wasn’t about my escaping the people in these situations, or about taking a vacation. No, it was about something else – seeing places differently, not going different places. And the Spirit transformed it into something far deeper than I intentionally planned.

What it became, I think Marcel Proust expressed best: “The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” Back then I didn’t have the words to put to this longing that drove me in an unexpected direction, but now I do: missional. I wanted to rediscover what it meant to really see my neighbors and perceive them with the perspective of Jesus. Actually, it turned out more of a first-time discovery than a rediscovery …

Do you remember from the Gospels when a legal expert asked Jesus about how to inherit eternal life, and He responded to the question with a question?

“What is written in the Law? … How do you read it?”

And the man answered, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind,” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.

“You have answered correctly” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:25-29, NIV)

Well, at that point in 2005, I’d have been more like the lawyer, the one asking that kind of question, than the subject in Christ’s gracious and yet provocative response – the Good Samaritan. Jesus shared the account of someone who helps a wounded stranger from an enemy tribe with a gift of time, assistance, expenditure, and follow-up care. The Good Samaritan reverses my self-centered question of “Who is my neighbor?” with this humility-seeking one: “Who am I a neighbor to?”

And the latter question is the one I finally arrived at, but it took a journey before I could get to The Journey. I knew I was supposed to do something unusual, but floundered around with options for a while until it became clear. First I investigated airfares. Whew! Money talks, and mine would say, “Good-bye” if I chose to fly! I could have gone that route, I had enough – barely – to pay for a flight. But that quiet voice of the Holy Spirit simply told my heart, “No.” I started checking out Amtrack, but remembered how difficult and noisy train travel always was for me. It made no sense to arrive drained by the train, so that was out.

I knew my housing would be covered once I got to Houston, so the only expenses were travel and food. But, being relatively short on cash, if flying was too expensive and training too noisy, I thought maybe car would be the way to go. I remember calling up my good friend Dave to see if he wanted to do “A Ridiculous Road Trip” – I remember using that exact term in my voicemail message – together from the Bay Area to Houston. If he’d drive, I’d pay for everything plus find places to stay along the way. We’d both been at the WabiSabi event in Austin a couple of years earlier, and he already knew a lot of the people involved on the Doxology team.

Even though Dave could’ve had the time free, he’s one who listens intently for the Spirit and follows even when it seems ridiculous. You can pretty much trust that a yes or no from Dave means he’s sought God for any directive in either direction. So … his “no” meant God had a “yes” to some other option, because I knew that I knew I should go to Doxology.

Maybe driving was the right thing, but not in a buddy road trip. I hadn’t owned a car for about five years – it was one of the few ways I could economize to survive on a part-time salary from a non-profit organization. So, I thought about renting a car and going by myself.

But that turned out to be out of the question, mainly because my license had just recently expired, and I hadn’t gotten it renewed yet. Oddly, it seemed like every time I got ready to go in and get it renewed, something came up to prevent me. Driving is not my favorite thing anyway, but I began wondering if I was sabotaging myself, or if this seeming impossibility of getting to the Department of Motor Vehicles was due to “spiritual warfare.” Multiple times I scheduled myself to go to the DMV and EVERY time I felt woozy from allergies, or suddenly felt excessively tired on the day I’d planned to go. Either way, I couldn’t even walk one mile to the bus stop to get myself over to the DMV. Weird!

Please understand, I wasn’t in great shape healthwise just then. I’d been through a difficult period where I relocated myself and a suitcase of stuff a total of 36 times in 13 months because I hadn’t been able to locate a permanent place to live – and the longest I spent any one place was 5 months. Which means I shuffled stuff around 34 times in 8 months … once a week on average, going from this house-sitting job, to that short-term rental, then to someone’s home for a few days to a few weeks, and back and forth again.

So, I was utterly exhausted from “couch surfing”! All I had energy for was to work, go “home” (and hope I didn’t take the wrong local bus or exit at the wrong stop), rest as much as possible, and then repeat the cycle next day. I really hadn’t made any new friendships other than with additional people at work or church – and all just Christians. It was a relationally sheltered year as I traveled through this tunnel of weariness.

Anyway, I’m not sure I considered at the time the possibility that all this DMV diversion just might be the Spirit’s gracious (through frustrating!) leading to block me at every turn so as to narrow my options down to the very last one if I was to go on this trip at all: Greyhound.

As I got accustomed to the idea of taking the bus, it actually seemed like an intriguing and relatively relaxing trip – at least, potentially. I wouldn’t have to drive. I could slow down and have a completely different rhythm for 48 hours each way. It would be cheaper than airfare and quieter than going by train. Yes, this bus trip would give me an opportunity to unplug from that discomforting sense of “Christian island” isolation and to reconnect with the larger landscape of humanity.

Once I knew I was going, I began to pray that I would see people in a new light, with the eyes of Greyhound Jesus. This was important preparation, but I also wondered what this meant. Gradually it became clear that it was important for me to observe and listen, and only to say what was called for, if something was called for. I was going stealth. It was not about “evangelisten” where I was to initiate some generic gospel presentation and then ask who the person was I’d just hit with The Message. I guess if I were naming the approach now, it’d be “listenalmissional” – engage your ears before putting mouth in gear. (Shout-out and sidenote: My friend Bill  [Yo! Bill!] says I do “frosting” well – as in what Robert Frost did, creating words cuz it’s kind of fun and poetical.)

So, I got on the Greyhound, armed with the sense I should watch for providential perspective instead of catalyze the action. As I’m writing this now in 2008, I’m reminded of one of the first poems I ever wrote, over 25 years ago. It’s really sing-songy, but since it seems relevant to share it here, I’ll do it:

Up to the Balcony Many times my plans fall through And it is hard to look to You And recognize Your sovereignty, To see Your plan as best for me. But as I take a backward gaze, By what I see, I’m just amazed! Events and details fall in line As You show me Your plan divine. For all the whirling, churning thoughts Come together, as I am brought Up to the balcony where You share The Playwright’s vantagepoint from there. I quietly sit as You point out Just what the action and plot’s about. And how each actor plays a role That is important to Your goal. You give me wond’rous insights fresh As You reveal just how things mesh. I leave the balcony, strength renewed, And more appreciating You. So when my world seems caving in And I’m hung up – caught in sin, Remind me, Lord, to stop and pray And seek Your viewpoint for that day. Your perfect wisdom and advice Will help me become more like Christ. Infinite knowledge You will not give But from the balcony comes truth to live. © 1981 Brad Sargent

And thus my Greyhound Jesus adventure began … and all kinds of interesting stuff happened at the major stations along the way …

To be continued in Part 2.

 

Reflections on Doxology-Part 3 (2005)

More Learnings in the DoxComm

Those of us who get assessed as half-and-half introvert/extravert on Myers-Briggs have some things easier, some things harder. Or perhaps both, when it comes to processing events. We are wired in such ways that we absorb huge stores of observations, so our conclusions probably come out detailed. But then, it takes a lot longer, with some brain-strain thinkwork.

Which is all to say, here it is, a week after getting back from Doxology, and I’m still processing it. So, wanted to share a few more findings that have distilled their way from my brain down through my fingers.

First, though, a sort of disclaimer-description about why I’m sharing so much about this. I hope my friends don’t feel dissected by the laser-rays of what I’m about to say in my analyses and reflections. It was never my intent going into Doxology to create a case study. But the combination of such an extraordinary experience and the fact that I just “can’t not think about things” provided an opportunity to gain perspective on some things I’ve been wondering about -and searching for! – for many, many years.

Specifically, Doxology gave me a very positive situation to see an intercultural paradigm at work. And my gut tells me that intercultural approaches hold some of the strongest possibilities for catalyzing transformation in individuals and in societies. It seems to me that people in Doxology, as well as many “non-churched Christians” with a radical approach to following Jesus, and many others at the unfolding edges of Western societies, are all using aspects of an intercultural paradigm intuitively. I’ve been working for 10 years to live, study, and describe this paradigm, in part because I believe that having a clearly articulated theory helps practitioners move from intuitive to intentional, so they can have higher impact. (How many of you reading this who’ve had conversations with me have told me things like, “You just put words to what I felt but didn’t know what to call it.” When paradigm descriptions resonate with us, not only do they validate the fact that we are NOT crazy, but they often help us to see an even bigger picture of how God is at work in the world. And then, perhaps we can find intentional ways to amplify what we had already been doing intuitively. Having an articulated paradigm doesn’t have to kill the Spirit and spontaneity …) Okay, enough semi-apologies for what may come across as labeling, but I hope we who are practitioners will find it empowering.

Specific Gifts and General Service

In my last entry, I talked about having witnessed people using their spiritual gifts and special areas of knowledge, but also jumping right in to do whatever they could to serve, regardless. I’ve given some more thought to that, and had a great conversation with my friend Jason about it this afternoon. How many times have we heard about spiritual gifts, and also about the “one another” commands of the New Testament epistles? But how often do we hear about both of them together, and their relationships to leadership?

The way I see it, spiritual gifts are like a shot of espresso. They give a full-on dose of the essence of a specific way of serving and building up other people. The one-anothers are like a Cafe Americano. They represent that same amount of “service caffeine,” diffused into boiling water in a much larger container. So, what some people have as a thimble full of concentrated coffee, others have in diluted form.

In the Doxology community, I saw people using the diversity of their very potent gifts – an artistic eye, an ability to give clear and concise directions, an orientation to detail, time management, writing, mediawork, computer savvy, sewing, relating, manual dexterity tasks, cooking, childcare. (It didn’t matter whether the expert was a man or a woman, and often the person in the role would be counter to who would be considered appropriate for that role in traditional cultures.) I also saw people contributing whatever efforts they could, even if it was not a top-level gift. No one needed to remind anyone to park their egos at the door, because everyone was putting their all into the event.

Probably there is nothing particularly unusual in that. However, the new perspective I gained as I observed a trail of activities and interactions is this: Every Doxologist contributed leadership through his or her own gifts, and also willingly deferred to this or that other person who was generally acknowledged as having the espresso version of some other ability that was needed. It wasn’t anarchy – i.e., no leadership. It wasn’t even a so-called flat or horizontal leadership model, which contrasts with traditional approaches that use ladders or pyramids to represent hierarchical leadership. It was not just a bunch of nice people, all acting relatively politely because they held some stake in the outcome of the event. No, some other dynamic was afoot. But what?

Different Paradigm of Leading and Following

I think it’s best to call what I witnessed “flexible leadership/followship.” I think this kind of mutual-respect give-and-take community-building is done far more intuitively, and based on a huge amount of entrustment in people’s desire to connect and participate. People didn’t really even have to be TOLD who was good at what, because people SHOWED what they were good at. It was openly acknowledged, and accepted.

Yet, that didn’t prevent people from having the freedom to participate in co-creativity with “the experts.” It was a far more open forum than I expected. I can’t even number how many times I heard things like, “That’s a great idea! Let’s see how we can do something with that!” Or, when necessary, “You know, that’s a brilliant idea, but I don’t think we’ve got the time available for this one to do something with it.” (There will be more Doxologies, after all.)

As I think back over many kinds of communal experiences, I quickly see that the ones which generate immediate fond memories were all a sort of open system. They all exuded this same kind of atmosphere of entrustment.

You know, I just realized that I’ve used the terms trust and entrustment repeatedly in my reflections on Doxology, but haven’t really framed exactly how I mean them. So, here is a description of how I’m thinking about them: So often, we use financial metaphors to talk about our relationships. Investing in others. Expecting relational pay-offs. Account-ability. These words easily carry implications of me sharing the best of what I have with you, so that I can do something productive with the overflow of my assets. Meanwhile, entrustment is my relying on you to share your best, while I do the same, and perhaps in that connection we will also draw out from each other what has been underutilized in each of us. Quite a different set of implications! Entrustment returns the us into trUSt.

The Roles of Being Culturally Fluid

Now that I’m thinking about it, I wonder if this quite different lead-follow paradigm is just one dimension of something far bigger.

Could this widely apparent flexibility among the Doxology community members to free-flow between leading and following, between contributing directly and deferring without passivity, be linked with other forms of personal paradox or being relationally intercultural?

Methinks it is thusly so!

So, let me try to fill that out a bit.

Here are some key patterns I noticed in the Doxology core group and those drawn in from amongst our friends new and old who helped with or attended the premiere:

• Very comprehensive, holistic, and integrative. We are men and women of very broad interests and abilities: highly spiritual, creative in various ways, oriented to justice and advocacy, ecologically-minded. But these aren’t segments of life, they are interwoven. We use our creative gifts to promote justice. We see creativity and advocacy as expressions of spirituality. We mentor/nurture others, yet see children as able to teach us as well.
• Very “psychologically androgynous.” We presented all kinds of evidences of not fitting into the traditional cultural compartments of roles exclusively for men or for women. We bridge beyond the traditional stereotypes of masculine and feminine, drawing together the positive human qualities from each. For instance, we are men who tend to be in touch with our emotions, women who can analyze objectively, men who enjoy cooking and spending time with kids, women who start businesses and trouble-shoot management problems.

I’m not advocating psychological androgyny per se, but instead, a biblical integrity that gives us far more freedom to embrace and express the full range of God’s character qualities. In Scripture, God presents his character with a range of terms, images, and metaphors, some masculine and some feminine. If we are being transformed into the likeness of Jesus Christ, then we should not be bound by a truncated, non-Trinitarian list of men-must-act-like-this and women-must-act-like-that, as dictated by any culture – sacred or secular. We can/should integrate all those character qualities, because all of us are made in God’s image.

In fact, I think this sort of integrating of the broadest imageness of God in us is part of biblical mysticism. And, this integration process of taking as complementary of what culture says are conflicting or opposites, is one way that we become bicultural. And, when we examine the cultural backgrounds of the apostles, we see they are at least bicultural. (For instance, Paul was a Pharisaic Jew, raised in a gentile country, and also a Roman citizen. Barnabas was from a priestly tribe of Jews, raised in the non-Jewish culture of Cyprus.) Which leads to another learning from Doxology . . .

The Catalytic Community

I suspect that we usually think of apostles as being individuals: Paul, Barnabas, Peter. Maybe we relate with their activities in pairs or in small teams. But how often do we think about whether an entire community could be able to spark the creation of another new community?

Mark Fletcher is the vicar of Church on the Corner, a converted pub in London. He wrapped up the dialogue on the night of the premiere, stating that the Doxology exhibit was a gift to all, because it was attempting to let people experience Jesus directly instead of through the faulty grid of previous associations that we overlay onto Him from our interactions with church, ministry organizations, Christians, etc. Mark also challenged people to a higher level of responsibility, in not letting anyone take away the gift, or taint it by false associations. That kind of entrustment talk will, I believe, lead to relationships among people who take his exhortation seriously.

Also, I caught intriguing bits of drive-by conversations here and there throughout the days of preparation and the premiere. People were speculating about future communities being instigated by the presence of a Doxology art exhibit, and how the experience was far more than just the exhibit, and how amazing Rob was in gladly sharing ownership of the community with all. Doxology was and is a countercultural, peace-making community. It brought together men and women, adults and children, from multiple countries, different generations, and different cultural backgrounds. And we changed into something beyond a collection of individuals. As one person said at the opening-night dialogue, “Doxology is primarily about loving God and loving others. It’s a way to get into loving relationships.”

It seems to me that there are two main catalysts to change. First, being traumatized – I don’t want this experience, so I’ll do something to avoid or change it. Second, being touched – I do want this experience, so I’ll do something to retain or restart it. And I suspect Doxology as an embodiment of loving relationships can reproduce more easily and organically than I think more organizationally-oriented groups. Hope we’ll see that happen!

Would it make more sense to have communities try to reproduce communities, than by having one person or even a very small team try to do so? People working together as communities have more possibilities to touch people physically, emotionally, spiritually, etceterally in ways that spark a desire for more.

This idea of apostolic community is yet another possible reason why the holistic, integrative paradigms of Doxologists cannot easily be mimicked by people who are used to traditional paradigms. Even if they are sincere in their efforts, they just are not indigenous to these ways of thinking. Their encounters with people like us send them into culture shock! But, in the long run, hopefully Doxology sparks some constructive changes for them as individuals and for their communities of faith.

So . . . about time to conclude for the day. One last thought. When the Doxology exhibit goes to tour to other cities, I believe the tentative plan is for members of the Doxology community to go there in advance, help catalyze a new community there, and work with them to establish the local exhibit/community. And, given the quality of relationships begun during the Houston exhibit, I would not be at all surprised if some Houstonites participate in setting up the Austin Doxology, and Houstonites and Austinites help set up the Amsterdam Doxology, and etc. This sounds very much like the historical descriptions of tribal training of pastors and elders in the early Christian eras of Ireland, as presented in books like How the Irish Saved Civilization. Pick up a few people here, train them there and leave them to do the local work while you pick up a few new people from there to take with you to the next tribal area, and so on. Sustainable. Impactful. Intergenerational. Intercultural . . .

Originally posted October 20, 2005, on futuristguy’s Randomocities.

 

Reflections on Doxology-Part 2 (2005)

Doxology was a pretty profound experience, which could either mean I’m so overwhelmed that I have nothing to say, or that I have so much to say that it’ll take time. Guess which …

Opportunity for the Redemptive Opposite

Participating in Doxology was a renewing experience for me. In it, I saw where the Father arranged possibilities for a redemptive transformation of several particularly destructive situations that have occurred over the past 25 years. Where the former experiences inflicted toxicity, trauma, and the death of hope, Doxology infused cleansing, healing, and life.

I will not get too specific about the former situations, as it is important to leave those involved a way out – a way to go forward where guilt and shame can be dissolved in the face of repentance, if/when they come to their senses and realize the abusive impact they had on me and others. But I will give the following framework, because the delight I found in Doxology only makes sense in light of the degree of sadness which parallel but opposite situations inflicted before.

I have been in several multicultural ministries and churches that had every appearance of possibly shifting to an intercultural paradigm. That’s a key thing, as I happen to think becoming intercultural is actually what Christ intends for the Church to be and to do. To me, being intercultural means that people do more than just honor the cultural differences among a group’s members. That kind of multiculturalism is worthy, but ultimately it can prove passive. Instead, when a diverse group’s goal is to become intercultural, people actively seek to identify their own gaps of spiritual omissions and their own encrustments of antibiblical cultural syncretisms. (Actually, we are seldom able to see such things in our own lives on our own; they have to be identified for us, which means that if we truly want to grow into Christlikeness, we must actively allow others in to fill in our spiritual blind spots.) Interculturalism is not at all the same as “ecumenism.” The former is more organic, sustainable, and growing where typical ecumenicalism is far more organizational, static, and sinking. (And as both a post-liberal AND a post-conservative, all I can say about that is there is much more to the story of this critique to tell another time!)

Well, the people and possibilities that God brought together in these multicultural ministries and churches created a simply electrifying atmosphere! It was obvious to insiders and outsiders alike that the Holy Spirit was at work in unique ways to create a new wineskin to match the new wine. But then, something went wrong. In most cases, the leaders and/or pastors – who ultimately used a more traditional model of “leadership” – backed away from the required paradigm shift needed to forge an intercultural reality out of the diverse, multicultural group they worked with. I think they went into various degrees of culture shock, actually, and did not know how to handle the radical changes that had happened. Or perhaps, even more difficult, they did not know how or didn’t want to see what radical additional changes were needed in order to facilitate true integration into an intercultural group – where people’s distinctive gifts and cultural traits were viewed as positive, and people expected to learn from others and be challenged to move toward Christlikeness as individuals and toward “Kingdom Culture” as a group.

I have been wounded multiple times by seeing waves of different cultural groups depart these ministries and churches. In their wake, all that was left was pretty much an empty shell of what could have been possible. Did I claim too much ownership, and that’s why I got hurt? Or not enough ownership? Did I trust too much to the leaders/pastors in these situations, or perhaps not trust other people enough? How can any group of people get through that critical inertia barrier that otherwise prevents genuine intercultural integration from taking place?

Thankfuly, the Doxology team/community provided the exact opposite experience to those former problematic situations. With Doxology, a diverse, multicultural group stayed together during several excruciatingly intense days. Never before had all dozen of us been together. So, there was not a lot of relational history involved here. (In fact, I’d only spent three hours or so with Rob and Aimie in person seven months ago, meeting them with Dave Robinson at a coffeehouse in Sausalito!) Yet, members of the Doxology community continued to love each other in the midst of stamina-taxing work physically, short fuses emotionally, and spiritually stretching encounters with all kinds of people.

It may be hard to give freely of ourselves, but I suspect that it is even more rare to freely receive from others. Such is the brokenness of overreliance on self. I am still amazed that Rob transferred ownership of the Doxology experience to all of us as a community, even when this new community would not have existed without his artwork. The entrustment involved was phenomenal. I kept thinking things like, This is how it should be. This is the way Kingdom and church should function! After a series of disappointments over the years, how renewing it was to finally be in the midst of such a relationally successful venture!

It is a paradox, a mystery . . . and yet, this made Doxology one of those kinds of holistic healing experiences that I believe we all long for. I suspect we all desire to recast our past so that we can move on more fully and functionally into a positive future. But this “laying down of new tracks” over where old wounds were is not something we can demand of God, nor could we have foreseen His timing for it when it does happen. Such events are gifts of grace, made far more potent by a heart that perseveres and continues to reach out for God’s love and comfort in the midst of our emotional, spiritual, and physical pain.

It was a healing surprise sent from heaven, and I am glad that I followed the Holy Spirit’s leading to be sure I was in Houston for Doxology! It cost everything I had available at that moment, but it was worth it. (And I know I’m not the only one who used all their resources of whatever type for this community-forming event.)

Doxological Futures

And on that concept of God’s surprises, I found some intriguing quotes while reading on the Greyhound home. They come from Finite and Infinite Games: A Vision of Life as Play and Possibility, by James Carse. I think they capture well the joie de vivre that I (and I believe others) found in Doxology.

First Carse says that “there are at least two kinds of games. One could be called finite; the other infinite” (page 3). The dustjacket picks up from this quote and adds: “Finite games are the familiar contests of everyday life; they are played in order to be won, which is when they end. But infinite games are more mysterious. Their object is not winning, but ensuring the continuation of play. The rules may change, the boundaries may change, even the participants may change – as long as the game is never allowed to come to an end.”

Later on, Carse notes: “The finite play for life is serious; the infinite play of life is joyous. Infinite play resounds throughout with a kind of laughter. It is not a laughter at others who have come to an unexpected end, having thought they were going somewhere else. It is laughter with others with whom we have discovered that the end we thought we were coming to has unexpectedly opened. We laugh not at what has surprisingly come to be impossible for others, but over what has surprisingly come to be possible with others” (page 25). [Sidenote 2008: Here I am reminded of the scene from The Return of the King with Gandalf and Frodo laughing after the quest of the Ring has been completed, and Frodo finally awakes from his exhaustion. What better response than laughter to the surprise of being alive?]

I suspect that Doxology will spawn many other such communities, entrusting people to experience Jesus directly for themselves, encouraging them to connect with each other in a journey on the way of Jesus, and providing a framework of joy to celebrate the connectivity and activity of life together.

Learnings in the DoxComm

Bringing it all the way back to the redemptive perspective, this is amazingly theological stuff! For many years, I have pondered the depths of a paradoxical doctrine that I don’t know what to call except, “Agent of Damage, Parallel Agent of Healing.” It comes from the Bible books of Romans and 1 Corinthians, which talk about Jesus as the “second Adam” or the “last Adam.” And so, as by one man (literally, in the Greek, it refers to a male) Adam sin entered the world and death by sin, this Last Adam – Jesus Christ – cancelled out the penalty of sin by His sacrifice and so opened the way to an abundant life. (Romans 5:6-20. 1 Corinthians 15, especially verses 35-49.)

Even so, Doxology showed me the real possibilities for a trust-based, intercultural community that is far, far more than just a collection of individuals. Perhaps the wounds of the past have been flushed out and can heal, as the underlying muscles find their intended original strength!

But I gained other insights from Doxology. Here are the short versions of some key ones that I’m still processing.

• There is a difference between being genuinely paternal and being paternalistic. As the oldest male on the creative team, I couldn’t exactly escape the reality that I am in many ways a “father in the faith.” But that role is one of coming alongside others to share encouragement, advocating, perspective, and blessing. On the other hand, how often I’ve been in situations of being paternized, where someone older was trying to control or even hijack a ministry or event. I’ve always hated that when I experienced it; I hope I never do it – or at least that anyone who thinks I’m being paternalistic talks to me about it. I know I’m as susceptible as the next person to control issues . . .
• I witnessed people using their spiritual gifts and special areas of knowledge, but also jumping right in to do whatever they could to serve, regardless. Such humility is always a challenge, but also always an encouragement to see. If any one DoxComm member had not been present, or if any of the spontaneous volunteers had not shown up (thanks Cynthia, Eric, Erica, Jason, Karen, Nate, Sheila!), the exhibit could not have opened. And without Beth, Dawn, and Mark, there wouldn’t have been refreshments served. (And I’m sure to have missed some people, because I was running around so much I didn’t capture all that was happening.)
• Experiences in relationship with Jesus transcend all philosophical approaches. Jesus is available for everyone, but He goes beyond a mass Jesus that is mere populism. We are responsible for our interactions with Him, but this is more than libertarian individualism. We are transformed by His presence, but that’s more than just transactional analysis or personal recovery. Society and culture can be changed by Him through us, but this isn’t the same as classic liberalism or progressive politics. When we live out the presence of unconditional love, we  really can go beyond merely being nice, moral neighbors.
• Doxology was a success in the deepest sense. As a community we got through the tough stuff and still loved each other and were talking with each other afterwards. The same is pretty much true for all of us who lived in community in Austin from November 2003 through July 2004 – wonderful to see Erica, Jess, Lora, Stacy, TK, and favorite visitors Jenn and Debra. Wish Nathan and Amy could have made it, but sounds like their activities that weekend went well and were a joy for them. (P.S. it was also great to see the Chapmans, Millers, Rudds, Standerfers, Thames, Woods.)

Okay, so I’ve spent another 2-plus hours adding all this other detail and perspective on Doxology. Time for sleep, and I’ll transfer it to my blog tomorrow. And I will eventually get to the parts about “Greyhound Jesus.” That trip had many good experiences in it as well, but is taking longer because it actually was one of the more thought-provoking parts of the overall experience.

Originally posted October 14, 2005, on futuristguy’s Randomocities.